Hey, folks! This is my first MCU fanfiction. I've liked Sharon Carter since The Winter Soldier, and well, it seemed reasonable to write a story about her – and Steve, eventually, of course – after the events in Civil War because there was no closure. We don't know what happened to her after that, so this fic is basically about this. Of course, it's also a Captain America story, and it may turn into an Avengers story later on.

Who knows? :D

Disclaimer: The content of this story is not my propriety. Everything belongs to fabulous Marvel Studios and Disney.

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Chapter One

Sharon knew she was screwed.

It started with a brief chill down her spine as she worked through the food she had bought at the 24-hour market down the street. Just a feeling of wrongness, a certainty that something was definitely not right. Shaking it off as paranoia, she continued to do her chores.

A week had passed since her meeting with Steve Rogers and his team. I can't believe I've been on the run for a week, she thought. Sharon never thought she'd reach the point where running away from the CIA – or any intelligence agency, for that matter – would be necessary. Sure, when S.H.I.E.L.D fell, she was aware that maybe she would have to fight her way through Hydra to be free from all that corruption, and it's not like she didn't know what it felt like to pretend being someone else. But still. The danger was real, this time.

When she put the food away and started dinner, though, she felt it again. Recording her aunt's words from one of their last conversations – when Peggy's words had already started to sound like a goodbye – she decided checking things out wouldn't hurt. "Always trust your gut", the words came back to her. "No rational advice from any agency will be more important than that, in this line of duty." So, Sharon got her gun, her gadgets, and approached the window of her living room.

Renting a cheap, run-down apartment for herself in the middle of Asheville, North Carolina, which was crowded with tourists that did the same thing hadn't been difficult at all. Working in the too-small living room while keeping herself away from the windows? That'd been difficult. Now, though, she could probably run back and forth in the entire place blindfolded and not touch a thing. Peeling back her curtains carefully, she assessed the flow of people outside. It was barely 6pm but she expected a decent amount of people strolling through her charming street. She was surprised to see it empty.

Sharon would've slapped herself if she could. Sloppy, she thought, not checking the street every hour. It was too late, now, though. Working for the CIA as a field agent for months had taught her many things – mainly, their procedure to invade and extract. Considering the whereabouts were already empty of civilians, she could only guess her own neighbors had been CIA agents for some time now – they would have taken the time to rent the entire building to capture her, if they thought she had information on Captain America.

There was only one option for her: hope they had underestimated her abilities and try to fight her way out of this. Sharon chose to go on the offensive, since they could easily overpower her if they managed to corner her somewhere in the apartment – and that really wasn't a hard thing to achieve. Positioning herself beside the closed door of the kitchen, so they would have to walk past her to get out of the hallway, she crouched down and waited.

And waited.

Fifteen minutes passed before she heard the soft sound of footsteps. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and took a deep breath.

She heard a loud bang, and watched as her door was torn clear from its hinges.

She didn't wait for them to react.

Counting five soldiers, she swept the first one off his feet and, still on the ground, punched the second one on the knee so hard she heard it crunch. The soldier fell, screaming, and she knocked both of them out with an elbow on the face before placing herself behind their bodies to use them as a shield. She felt the bullets hit their bulletproof vests, glad they hadn't hit her anywhere. Even though she was wearing one as well, taking a bullet still hurt like a bitch.

Two down, three to go, she thought. Sharon dropped the fallen agent and spun on her heels as she was standing up, bringing up her right leg with full force as to land a kick on the third soldier's face. Her aim was true, and he was down in seconds. Before he hit the ground she had her gun out. The bullet hit the fourth soldier's hand, and a wild shot went out – fortunately, nowhere near Sharon or the other agents. A quick punch to the face took care of him, and then there was only Sharon standing in her doorstep, panting, looking at the fifth soldier.

She was taken back by the slender form of the agent, which resembled a woman her size. Her doubts were confirmed when the soldier – she – took her helmet out and threw it away. Red hair, black eyes, strong chin, and a look that could kill from miles. Her beauty came from the way she held herself ready for battle, and the gleam in her eye as she assessed Sharon, who had singlehandedly defeated 4 trained C.I.A agents in less than a minute.

"You are a lot tougher than you look, Agent Carter" – she said.

Sharon got a strand of hair out of her face. "Let's see if the same applies to you, shall we?" She said.

As soon as they started to fight, Sharon decided it definitely applied to her. The woman's fighting style was a mix of agile strikes, brute force and intricate footwork, which made it almost impossible for Sharon to go on the offensive, as she would have liked. Their dance was too fast for the civil eye to follow, and it consisted of Sharon dodging as many punches and kicks as she could while maintaining a decent defensive position. She felt like she was on a hand-to-hand combat against Black Widow, a situation best left to the imagination, considering it would take seconds for Natasha to kick her ass.

It won't take much longer than that for this woman to kick my ass, Sharon thought. Already, she started to feel out of breath. Her movements were getting slower and more punches were getting through her defense. Sharon tried to summon up her training back at S.H.I.E.L.D, something that helped her focus when she was losing a fight. Her endless practice sessions with her friends and combat teachers, the feel of freedom as she somersaulted through the air. This helped her, somehow. It made her analyze the fight better.

Sharon noticed the woman, whoever she was, had a weak left hook. To balance that, she immediately followed it with a right uppercut, drawing the attention of her opponent to her latter swing, rather than the first one. That gave Sharon a one-second window to make her move, as the agent tried to grab Sharon and take the fight to the ground. Sharon sidestepped and waited for her left hook. When she did it, Sharon blocked both the left hook and the right uppercut, following it up with a straight punch and a right hook. The swings hit the agent with such brutality that she was forced to back away from the fight.

Finally, Sharon saw an opportunity to win. Using a move from C.I.A's 2-month-training for agents with advanced knowledge in the field, she braced a foot on her windowsill and jumped high enough to aim an overhand right on the woman's face. As she staggered back from the shock of impact, Sharon made a sharp turn and swept her right off her feet, bringing her fist down as soon as she hit the ground. The redhead was out cold.

Painting, Sharon leaned on the closest thing she could find – the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes for brief moments before focusing on the next plan of action. Now that she'd been discovered and nearly brought in, it would be necessary to either seek outside help or go even deeper in disguise. The first option sounded easier than the second, considering the agency would be on high alert now that they knew of her whereabouts. It would, however, put innocent people at risk, a consequence that wasn't worth the risk.

Ironically, she didn't need to make that choice. Before she could get the few things she brought along with her and get the hell out of her apartment, Sharon heard two distinct sounds: her living room window shattering, and her gasp of pain as she felt a brief tingling in the back of her neck. Confused, she reached back and found a dart near her nape. Her vision blurred, and her coherent thoughts seemed to escape her altogether.

As the drugs settled into her system and made her lose consciousness, Sharon remembered that this was a standard SHIELD and CIA protocol, in case the field agents didn't succeed in bringing the suspect in peacefully. Strangely, though, she couldn't recall what SHIELD's logo was. The only shield she could remember as darkness overtook her was a blue and red one, with the United States flag.