MCU (c) Marvel Studios

And your wildheart is broken but it won't stop there. Cause you will crash and burn Cause in the night I'm losing you...Will crash and burn! You crash and never learn! You crash and neverlearn! You crash and burn! Cause, you crash and burn. Don't break down,don't break it down, don't break down… — My Indigo

Vienna, Austria — one year earlier

When her husband vanished, Natasha didn't feel heartbroken. In the back of her mind, she always expected that he'll vanish, that he'd be taken one day to be killed or turned into a monster. So, she never felt heartbroken over it (it had helped that her marriage to Alexi had been arranged). She simply moved on and told herself that love was for fairytales and people not like her. Love was a weakness and caused more mission failures that not.

It crashed into her like a semi-truck — or one of Tony's blasters — and settled cold and heavy in her gut. Seeing Sharon Carter there in that room with Sam, talking to Steve, helping him… it should have been her, but the Accords prevented her from doing so. If anything felt like heartbreak, it was in that moment. She had left the building then, not wanting anyone — Steve — to see her in such a state. She made a made a beeline to the nearest liquor store and bought a bottle of vodka before going to her hotel room. She sat on the bed, the vodka on the table, and simply stared at it.

She had told Steve to call Sharon.

Sharon and Steve had a share connection in their bond to Peggy Carter.

Sharon was a good person, with a good past. She wasn't a monster.

Sharon was everything she was not. Everything Steve needed in a partner.

Night had settled, and she had chugged half the bottle of vodka. Though the serum they injected her with wasn't perfect like Steve's, her metabolism was still beyond that of a normal human. It took forever for her to get honestly drunk, not that she wanted to get drunk. She just wanted this pain to stop. The pain of losing a man that was never hers to lose. They weren't a couple, they were friends.

Then why do I feel like this? She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her mascara was running, her eyeliner smudged, her eyes looking like she got punched in the face, tear tracks down her cheeks. It was hard to breath, her throat tight with every swallow of vodka. With a scream she smashed the bottle, the rest of the booze splashing onto the floor with the shards. She stooped, picking up the largest one. She stared at it, before setting it in the sink and pulling off her shirt. "Bath tub," she whispered, but didn't move and poised the hunk of glass over her wrist.

The wild look on her face scared even her. She was always so calm, so collected, but she saw something of herself in Steve, and saw how he never lost hope that maybe… just maybe, after everything was done, when there was finally peace, he could have the life he wished he had. Her eyes caught the clover on her hip. The tender moment they shared at he drew it on her skin. She dropped the shard, screamed and punched the mirror. She grabbed the sink and heaved, spitting bile down the drain. "Damn you," she whispered, "damn you… damn you…"

Present day — Berlin, Germany

The alley was dark, dirty and a cat was prowling through the dumpster. Steve wrinkled his nose as he leaned against the brick wall. He remembered going to the lab with Peggy, pointing to all the alleys he got beat up in and feeling like a fool for showing her his failings. Lately though, he had been handing out the beatings in alleyways instead of the reverse. This time he was doing neither.

He heard the clip-clop of her shoes before he saw her. He couldn't help but smile, she resembled Peggy, had the same jaw structure. "Steve," Sharon said.

"Sharon."

"It's good to see you," she said as she hugged him. He accepted it, smelling her perfume. It almost smelled like Peggy's… almost. Something shifted in the dumpster, causing the cat rooting around in it to still before resuming its quest for food. "Never thought I'd see you again."

"Well you did," he said, straightening a little. He still remembered kissing her, it felt… different. She had said it was late. Peggy's kiss had been sweet and tender, it was a promise. Natasha's kiss had been wild and thrilling. His kiss with Sharon had been awkward. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was a disconnect and as he thought about it over the year since it happened, he came to the realization that he could never have the semblance of a normal life or a normal relationship. "Sharon, we need to talk."

"Steve, I—"

"No." Cars honked down the street, voices jeered and an airplane rumbled overhead. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Sharon asked, a smiling trying to come forth. He watched her studying her face. "Steve?"

"Natasha, she… told me to call you. I did, and I've enjoyed the time we've had together. But… after what happened last year, what I did, what Tony—"

"None of that matters, Steve," Sharon said, holding his hands. "I still have some strings I can pull, left over from Aunt Peggy, favors that need to be owed—"

"That's the thing Sharon," he said. The cat meowed, scrambling out of the dumpster and running off. He looked around, catching a glimpse of glowing eyes and looking back at Sharon. "You aren't your aunt." He smoothed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. "And… I'm trying to hold onto something that I lost. I'm replacing Peggy with you, because you two are so similar both in appearance and personality that I thought… maybe… maybe I can still hold onto something I lost." He licked his lips. "I love her, Sharon. I'm afraid to lose her."

"She's dead Steve. Been dead for a year." Sharon pulled her hands free, cupping his face. "You can't hold onto a dead dream. You should move on, need to in fact."

"I know," he whispered. It was so difficult though. He still remembered Peggy as a young woman, with warm red lips and lush brown hair. It was difficult to reconcile his memories of Peggy with the old woman that had died a year ago. He understood the logic, that Peggy had lived her life, moved on, grown old; his heart on the other hand refused to believe any of it. "I don't want you to be… I don't want you to be a consolation prize. I can't love you the way you want or deserve. I'm not sure if I even did love you." He glanced up at the sky, watching a plane fly overhead, the red and green lights flashing on its underbelly. "I'm sorry."

"I see," she whispered, pulling her hands away. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Have you been feeling this since she died or before she died?"

He tucked his hands beneath his armpits. "When I came out of the ice, I thought I lost everyone. Then I found Peggy, but in a way… I already lost her. It's been since we met, in a subtle way." He looked at his feet. He never broke up with a girl before. He never thought he would have to, who would want a ninety-five-pound asthmatic as a boyfriend anyway? "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she said, a cold look in her eyes. She looked about her, a bit unsure on what to do. "Well, I guess this is goodbye. Whatever happens from here on out, know that I did care about you."

"I cared about too," he said. She gave him a brittle smile, it didn't reach her eyes. She thrust her hand out and he took it, shaking it.

"Good luck Captain Rogers," she said, militaristically professional. He squeezed her hand once more.

"Agent Carter," he said, letting go of her hand and watching her leave, heading into the bright lights of Berlin. He swallowed and backed up into the shadows, wishing he could get drunk. He pulled his compass out, brushing his thumb over Peggy's picture. "Where do I go from here, Peggy?"

Natasha sipped her drink, watching the dancers from their reflections on the bottles. She didn't even glance at her new companion. She crunched some ice between her teeth. "Whisky on the rocks," Sharon said. The barkeep nodded and gave her the drink. She watched as Sharon took a long swallow, the amber liquid sliding down her pale swan-throat. The blonde noticed her.

"Like the hair," she said, giving her a cattish smile. Natasha returned the expression and gave a little shrug.

"Thanks," she said and took a sip. "Rough night?"

"So, you're the one then," Sharon said. "He didn't have to say it. I saw it in his eyes." She took another pull, finishing the drink. "Barkeep," she said, waving her glass. This drink she nursed. "Gave me a sob story about how he's still pining for my dead aunt."

"I take it he told you."

"Damn right," she said, sipping her drink. "He was awkward about it, almost as if he didn't want to hurt my feelings but knowing he had to and unsure how to put it gently."

"That's him," Natasha agreed. "Always thinking about other people. It's something that I hate and admire about him."

"But why you," Sharon said, "that's what I'm still wondering. Why you. A spy that betrayed her country, that has worn one too many false faces to even remember who she truly is. Somehow you captured the attention of a man like him. So how the hell did you do it?"

She tossed back the rest of her drink. One of the memories she had of her childhood before the Red Room was her father telling her that when the Russians defeated the Nazis, Moscow ran out of vodka, the people had drunk the city dry. She crunched the ice, savoring the sudden shock of cold. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Carter." She looked at Sharon. "He said he wanted me to be his friend. So that's what I've been. His friend. Someone he can trust to watch his back, regardless of the situation and their past."

Sharon stared at her, a bitter laugh escaping her throat and leaned in close. "You're a monster, Romanoff," she hissed, bitter disappointment in her eyes. "A blood drenched monster. And no matter how many innocents you save, how many villains you bring in, you will always be a monster."

Natasha set her glass down and looked at the bitter heartbroken woman. She knew she cared about Steve, they both did, but Sharon had hoped to be something more. Natasha empathized with her, she had been in Sharon's shoes a year ago. The woman she was before Steve would have sneered and taunted Sharon, mock her pain and flaunt her triumph. "But I'm his monster," she said, lifting her chin. She paid for both of their drinks and left, leaving Sharon to her whiskey and tears.

She found Steve sitting near one of the bell towers of the Berlin Cathedral, the green of the cooper roof muted in the darkness. "Nice view," she said, sitting next to him. "Saw that you let her down."

"You know I had to," he grumbled. "I felt bad." He snapped the compass close and slipped it into his utility belt.

She patted his knee. "She did too. Tried to goad me into something." She watched the fountain below. The tourists were gone and the shadows thick, so nobody will notice them. "I didn't let her."

"I don't know what I'm going to do now. Running and hiding… I always stood my ground and fought. Once you start running you can't stop."

"You don't have a choice, Steve. We're criminals," she said. "Besides, running isn't so bad. It's what I did after I fled the KGB. I ran, was an independent assassin until Clint was sent to kill him."

"I just feel… like…" he stopped. "I just want to do the right thing and now I'm not sure what the ring thing is."

She remained silent, watching the blinking lights of an airplane go by. She couldn't see the stars here. She could see the stars from her window in the Red Room. The stars reminded her of something they tried to make her forget. She put her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. She found cities so beautiful at night. "We have to trust our hearts to know what the right thing is," she said, shifting a little and putting her hand on his chest. The steady lub-dub of his heart beneath her palm made her smile; gave her confidence and hope that she didn't normally have. "That's all any of us can do, and that's all any of us should do. If others can't see that then… the fault lies with them, not us."

He pressed his forehead against hers, and she gave a little smile. "I'll need help. I can't do this alone, Natasha. Sam, Wanda… they mean well, I know but they… they are not you."

"I know," she said, cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. "I'll be right here, right by your side. For better or for worst, through sickness and in health, in richness and in poor" — she smiled — "until death do us part."

He chuckled, bowing his head, shaking it. "Nat." He looked at her and she saw a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. "Do you realize where we are and what you just said?"

"Yes," she said, "to both. I'm serious Steve. When I left New York again, I had no intention of going back alone." She held face in her hands, losing herself in his eyes. They reminded her of the sky over the ocean, vast and timeless with an aching sadness juxtapose with the soaring rapture of true freedom. "I'm home." She felt his hand go to her hip as she leaned in, but she froze inches from his lips. Their lips barely touched; she angled her head up and pressed a kiss to his forehead as he pulled her into a hug. She cradled his head against her shoulder, smoothing his hair.

So… I posted my opinion on tumblr (I really should stop doing that) about my feelings of Sharon and Steve's kiss in Civil War.

It felt forced and weird.

It lacked on screen development or subtle hints that Steve had a thing with Sharon (like how he kept Peggy's picture in his compass)

I'm personally disturbed by their relationship as Sharon is Peggy's grandniece. Even before I ever got into the fandom, it bothered me. It may be less squicky in the comics but in the films, it bothers me.

Well of course the Sharon/Steve fans all attack me saying I'm completely missing everything and that the directors cut out their romance in favor for important things. Excuses my ass. They could have had Steve (or any one else) mention her, a token of some sort as I said above, ect. (I can go on about how it just was so wrong)

So, me being me, I wrote this as a way to explain why Sharon isn't in Infinity War. Basically Steve had a thing with her, broke it off because he's going to go rogue now and he doesn't want Sharon to get hurt because he's a Good Man ™. Sharon tries to blame Natasha, and Natasha reaffirms her commitment to Steve.

Now, I don't hate Sharon (even though I want to punch her in the face, but that's sixteen-year-old me talking because Sharon looks like those pretty popular bitches from my high school that I hated). If she was better developed instead of shoehorned in as "Captain America's love interest", I would be happy. But that's all she is. She's the Love Interest ™.

Natasha was never that. Natasha has her own story, which I feel parallels Steve's. They may never end up a couple, but I like their relationship tons better because it's pure and powerful and intimate. There is a deep primal connection between them. Steve doesn't reduce Natasha to Love Interest ™ and Natasha doesn't reduce Steve to Love Interest ™.

Well, that's my two cents.

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Nemo et Nihil