JULY 19, 2015: "I can't do this."
I can't do this.

It's something she has repeated over and over all day. I can't do this. She knows it's the fear talking. She knows it's the fact that somehow, every fear she has is blown up to proportions much larger than her. But she can't fight it. She's not strong like she used to be. She's not able to fight off things, she can't control it, there is nothing here to physically fight. She used to be a fighter. She knows this. She used to be a commander, a director that people respected. Somewhere, that respect went out the window - starting with the realization that her two cousins (or rather, Lisandra's two cousins) didn't think she was worth listening to, and it spiraled down from there.

I can't do this.

It's also the fear of what is growing inside her. That each time she wakes up, it's a month later and she still can't be in the fight. She's being overly protected. She's being hovered around. She is carrying a child, and she should be more careful. She is a vessel. She is nothing more. She is nothing. She no longer exists. Everything she was, is now gone. She's not Lisandra Bergmen. She's not Maria Hill. She is a vessel for something that is now more important than her, more important than she will ever be, and she has disappeared completely. She is not anything. She is no one.

I can't do this.

It's the fear of being insignificant, of being lost. Of not making a difference anymore. Of not being important. She tells herself that she knows she isn't wanted around, despite what people say. That they would do better off than her. They'd follow Fury instead of her. They'd follow Coulson instead of her. Some don't even view her as the true Director of SHIELD, so why is she bothering? She has the means to disappear. Maybe she should.

I can't do this.

She doesn't tell anyone where she is going, she just gets in the car and drives. It's the only place she can go that will make her feel like she's doing something right. She can disappear, she can hide away, she can be alone with her own fear and her insecurities, which she knows is exactly what whomever or whatever is doing this wants. But she gives in anyway. Because she's weak. She is insignificant. She is a vessel. She is nothing.

I can't do this.

She doesn't leave a note when she leaves, but she has a feeling he'd find her anyway if he wanted to look hard enough. He has more to worry about. He needs to focus on the greater good, because people respect him. He's not insignificant. He's not disrespected. He's looked up to. He's admired. He is a leader. He's maybe the better Director of SHIELD that she is. Or was. Maybe, she thinks, she should step down.

Her flying car lands on the Helicarrier, and she heads inside and immediately turns on the cloaking, and turns off any possible tracking of where she is. She sets it on auto pilot, and it takes off, bringing her to the sky where she is away from everyone, and everything. She can be out of the way here, she can let people forget about her, as they are meant to, because the fear is speaking to her now, it is taking her over. It's eating her up from the inside out. It is destroying her, and she can feel it. Her heart is practically bursting through her chest it's beating so fast. She can't breathe as well as she wants to. It owns her. She doesn't own it.

She feels and fears that everything she is scared of is right. That she really is insignificant. That she really is disrespected. That she really is nothing but a vessel. That she is nothing. That nothing she says is respected. That she is not strong. And, that she really can't do this.

She knows the true answer, deep down.

That's what scares her most of all.