Chapter Text
Sharon wasn't one to meddle in Avengers affairs.
Why?
It was because she knew they could handle themselves. The team, or the small army, stopped Thanos and brought half a billion people back into existence, and she was included in said people.
No, they didn't need her help at all.
So when Sam Wilson phoned and asked for assistance about an odd disturbance in Georgia, she knew it was something very ordinary and nothing to do with Avengers work. It was a problem, yes, but it was one that required her skill-set, not theirs.
Actually, Sharon was surprised she even answered the phone call at all, because talking to Sam and Bucky brought back painful memories of her time with Steve Rogers. The man who supposedly died in battle. A man she once admired and had a brief moment with. The man, who had in truth, gone back in time to be with her dead aunt.
At first, they attempted to hide it from her. It was only natural given all that happened and how incredibly awkward it would have been to meet an elderly Steve after he'd gone back and altered a timeline that forced Peggy down a different path in an alternate universe.
Sharon seethed when they told her. She remembered the time vividly. There was yelling and a shoe that narrowly missed Bucky Barnes' head when he suggested that Steve wanted to meet. Yes, it was a nice polished shoe too. One with a heel.
Perhaps in some other sick fantasy, she would have found the gesture to be romantic.
Sharon always knew Steve was the love of her aunt's life, but it was one thing to hear love stories about your first love and another to completely obliterate her family in an alternate reality. That, Sharon couldn't forgive.
So why did she pick up the phone?
Well, she didn't know. Maybe because after months had gone by, she was slowly recovering her life back. Suppose she was ready, what would that look like? How would she go about it?
Picking up Sam Wilson's phone call truly was the first step.
And it was also the reason why she hated them all the same, because when Sharon arrived at the rendezvous point in Georgia, she was met by a very unstable Scarlet Witch.
Sharon didn't know Wanda Maximoff well. Only that she held great power and practiced magic in ways Sharon never really understood. She was everything Sharon wasn't. And she was powerful. Sharon found that out first hand when she received a blast straight in the chest.
For a moment, she thought she was dead. There were spirals of red and her vision had gone white. The voices that whispered in her ear could very well have been Wanda, and she thought she saw glimpses of an old sitcom and Wanda's face smiling cheerfully before everything disintegrated and everything became dark.
The first thing Sharon noticed when she woke up was the blaring horn of cars and a splitting headache. She rubbed her temples and stretched her back. The light from the nearby lamp post was blinding, and it didn't help with the pounding in her head.
Frantically, Sharon felt around for her gun in her holster. She knew fully well it wouldn't slow down Wanda Maximoff one bit, but it could give Sam and Bucky the opportunity to perform a rescue operation. She doubted it, but she needed to take the chance.
She grunted, shielded her eyes from the light, and naturally pointed her gun ahead. There were shadows walking a few feet away, and Sharon shook herself until her vision cleared. She was standing in a dimly-lit, brick, alleyway, and the sky was dark.
Wanda was nowhere in sight. How long had she been out?
"Falcon, come in," she called through the comms unit. She tapped the earpiece. "Falcon, do you read me?" Sharon grimaced at the static. "Damn piece of shit."
She scratched the back of her head, frustrated. Leave it to the two people Steve left responsible to set things right after the Blip to thoroughly abandon her.
Damn Avengers.
They sure were good at saving the world, but they were terrible about keeping her in the loop. She blamed Steve again, because they learned it all from him she supposed--to leave her be, keep her safe, whatever that meant.
She made her way down the alleyway and noted the chatter from the crowd ahead. Her first step was to find her car. Hopefully, Wanda hadn't blasted it to oblivion before she took off. Sharon needed to get as far away from whatever magic was still lingering in the air. One thing she knew well was to stay clear of aliens, strange and powerful stones, and magic. It was all a part of surviving the Blip 101.
When she emerged and rounded the corner of the alleyway, her brows furrowed. It wasn't at the vintage car that drove past, but it was the fact that all the cars on the road were vintage.
She hated conventions.
As Sharon made her way down the bustling street, her brows furrowed even more. The night air was brisk and cool, but people were dressed strangely. A woman walked by and gave her a nasty stare, and a man passed and tipped his odd-looking hat at her.
She frowned.
Normally, she would smile back. That was the type of person she was, but she was also tired, her back was sore, and her headache was getting worse, so she was in a frowning mood.
She slipped her phone out of her jacket and raised her eyebrows at another strange anomaly. The glowing, 'No Signal,' was staring at her point blank on the screen.
"Damn it," she cursed.
Wanda better not have fucked up her phone. Sharon wandered and dodged a couple coming down the sidewalk.
She kept her phone slightly above her head. "Come on, come on.."
"Are you alright, dear?"
Sharon tried to smile at the elderly woman she nearly knocked over. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."
The woman shook her head and gestured with her gloved hand. "Oh don't worry about me, dear. I'm more worried about you," she said, and Sharon pressed her lips together. "A young and pretty thing like you shouldn't be wandering around this area at night without an escort."
Sharon rubbed the side of her head. Her eyes fell to the woman's interesting hat choice. "I'm alright. I'm just a little lost," she said.
"Ah, you must have come from the parade," the woman pointed out. "I don't know what to believe about this hero bit either, but the majority of the streets were sectioned off to make way. I would stay clear off Madison."
Lips twisting side to side, Sharon started to feel uncomfortable under the woman's intense stare, but she nodded and hoped it was convincingly friendly.
"Ah, well. It's best I be off, dear. Make it home safely now."
Sharon heard the click-clack of her shoes and wished she had her coat to keep warm. It no longer mattered how old fashioned the elderly woman was. It was chilly, and she envied that coat. She blew a breath and shivered when another swift breeze came by.
Now that she thought about it, and she paused, her brows scrunched together, everyone seemed peculiar. Men were dressed in trenches and had those interesting hats, and women looked as if they had taken a page straight from her dead aunt's old fashion catalogs. Even the air smelled awful.
Sharon rubbed her nose and trudged on, brows furrowed again.
She peered at a few people from her periphera. The vintage cars that drove by caught her eye next, then the theatre with it's large captions when she turned at the next street, and then the gleaming lights of the Empire State. She stared at that for a while. Why were the lights not as bright as she remembered?
An interesting churning bubbled in her stomach.
People laughed ahead by the crosswalk...which had no indicators or safety measures that navigated traffic, she noted. Instead, a man stood clad in odd attire and with a cap, and he was waving his arms, a whistle firmly planted in between his lips.
Her chest thumped, and she parted her lips.
This was...
She narrowed her eyes. Her stomach was worse now.
Frantically, she approached a child selling the paper on the curb, and she tried not to stare at his odd hat too.
"You. Kid," she called out. "What year is it?"
The young boy gave her a strange look. "Would you care for the paper, Miss?"
Sharon tried to control the tone in her voice, because she was obviously panicking. "Just tell me what year it is." Her smile twitched.
The boy blinked. "Why, it's March 24th, 1944, Miss." He inched away. "Have you had a lot to drink?"
Sharon wandered around Manhattan for a couple of hours, dragging her feet and cursing Bucky and Sam. Damn them all to hell, because only fools would send someone without extraordinary abilities against the Scarlet Witch.
Now she was... stuck in the 40's with no cellphone, because hell, they hadn't existed, and a busted comms unit that wouldn't be invented until Stark Industries released the damned model seventy or so years into the future.
There was also the fact that she tried to get something to eat, only to have the diner kick her out for counterfeit cash. Apparently, the wrong man was on her bills.
Sharon's shoulders slumped.
In the blink of an eye she was thrown through time with a busted back, no form of communication with the two people she wanted to desperately strangle, and she was now hungry and homeless.
When the crowd dispersed, she sat, defeated, and exhausted on the curb. These were times she wished something far more malicious was in store. An ambush by an enemy attack would be nice. It would give her an opportunity to lay waste and take out some frustration.
But no. She wasn't that lucky.
She pressed her knees close to her chest. Perhaps if she prayed hard enough, a miracle would happen and she would wake up to find that it all be a strange nightmare. She would grumble, get up, have her morning coffee, watch more news on the Blip, curse the awful statue the people built to commemorate Captain America, then go about her day.
She blew a breath, and her eyes were just about to slip shut when a shrill scream made her jerk.
Sharon's head snapped up, and a delicate but dangerous grin appeared on her lips. She mumbled a quick thank you to the skies for the opportunity to kick some ass. This was exactly what she needed.
When she approached the deadly scene, she nearly rolled her eyes. Some scumbag decided to pounce on some poor woman's purse. Really?
With one flying kick, the man was thrown back, and Sharon picked up the discarded handbag and handed it to the obvious damsel in distress. She frowned when the response she received was a lengthy gasp before the woman fainted and tumbled over.
She rubbed her temples was ready to spout a snide, "You're welcome," when a pair of arms trapped her from behind.
She growled, a low rumble that had her chest vibrating, and was prepared to throw him off when a whining sound pierced the air.
She stilled, and she vaguely caught the scream from the man behind her when she was knocked over.
Sharon groaned, cursing at his weight, and she tried to wriggle free from underneath the unconscious body. This was the second time she'd fallen flat on her back. It was not a good day.
She scrunched her face and wriggled again, managing to roll away. Her legs were a little shaky. She could feel it in her knees, and there was an unpleasant churning in her stomach.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?"
She rubbed her back. If there was one thing she didn't need right now, it was saving. She whipped around, ready to spout curses and profanities, but she froze.
Because the person hunched over with a hand outstretched to help her up was Captain America.
If Sharon were some other woman, she probably would have fainted just like the damsel she so-called rescued. Except she wasn't like any other woman, but she did gawk. The twisting in her abdomen was back. In fact, she thought she was going to be very sick.
Suddenly, the thought of vomiting all over Steve Rogers was becoming less like a bad idea and more and more amusing.
Yes, it was him.
He had that stupid get-up that she grew to hate bitterly, those intense blue eyes, and the silly smile that she guessed, was meant to be comforting.
"Let me help you up," he said. "It's alright. You're safe now."
It was Steve alright. With the smooth, I'm-here-for-you tone in his voice that she remembered from seeing him last in Germany. It was before he disappeared with his team, before she felt abandoned. It was in that tone, that, 'Thank you, Sharon,' tone.
Damn him.
She swatted his hand away and grumbled, pulling herself to her own feet. He gave her an odd stare. "Don't need your help," she grumbled.
He looked confused, but he nodded, and gave her another smile. "I'm glad you're safe."
Sharon glared at the way his chest puffed out.
He blinked.
Then there were sounds of footsteps, and a man was running towards them. "Captain," he called. "Everything alright?"
Sharon paled, and she definitely vomited this time, and all over Captain America's leg too, right before she did the most damsel in distress thing imaginable. She collapsed.
"What the hell happened?"
"No idea, Buck."
What a peculiar woman.
If Steve hadn't been raised properly, he would have left her in the nearest hospital like Bucky suggested. It was all in good fun though. His friend was full of terrible jokes today, and his vomit stained pants wasn't helping.
Despite that though, Steve felt awful for what happened. He was still getting accustomed to flinging his shield, and when he heard screaming, he came rushing in from the parade.
This wasn't how he envisioned the revised tour. He only agreed because Bucky convinced him it would be a good opportunity to visit Brooklyn while on this break.
The tour was to showcase heroism at a time of depression. It was for the people to celebrate a hero. If Steve wasn't so certain that Bucky needed this time away, he wouldn't have agreed to it. He was needed in out in the field, and a parade was not what he had in mind.
Their forming of the Howling Commandos was new and fresh, and there was so much work to be done. Not to mention hiding his identity in New York so that they could go about undisturbed was difficult enough as is.
The parade hadn't been his idea, but they were assured there would be one other public appearance. That was two in total, and they would be left to enjoy their break with little disturbance. Who took breaks during a war?
It was good to be back though, and Steve had to admit that he was equally excited about being home, because the streets were so familiar. It filled him with a strange nostalgia. He was barely a year into service, but that part of him... It all seemed so long ago.
One thing he was sure about, and what still disturbed him, was that the nightly violence and crime rate hadn't changed.
When the screaming started, Steve bolted and aimed directly for the assailant holding the poor woman from behind in a headlock. Unfortunately, he added just a bit more fling to his throw, and the impact knocked both the man and the woman clean off the ground.
He didn't blame her for vomiting all over him. Poor thing must have been scared to death.
Bringing her to the hospital crossed his mind, but when Bucky noticed her holster and the odd gun choice, they decided against it.
It was definitely not his idea to bring her to his room though.
"You think she's a spy?" Bucky asked him.
Steve's lips twisted.
It was strange for a woman to be carrying a gun. Outside the army, it was peculiar and uncommon. Nevermind her interesting choice in attire, her gun alone was nothing he'd seen before.
Steve peered down, his brows furrowing. "I don't know. Perhaps? Women don't carry weapons."
Bucky observed the gun. "Strange. I've never seen this model before. It's light," he said. "Pat her down and check her pockets." At Steve's obvious discomfort, he rolled his eyes. "She could be an assassin, and you're worried about taking off her coat?"
Steve scoffed and shot him a stern look. "Fine."
"What do you need to worry about? At least she's cute," Bucky said, and he shut one eye and pointed the gun at the wall. "Great aim."
"That's what you observed? Really?" Steve fought to roll his eyes and tugged gently at her jacket.
"What? You think Peggy won't approve?"
Steve gave him another firm look and proceeded with trying to disrobe her jacket. If his reflexes weren't heightened, he was sure he would have been flung on his back, because the odd woman maneuvered herself so quickly and attempted to hit him.
Bucky was there instantly. "Calm down. We're not trying to hurt you," he said.
The woman's eyes were wild and her head was darting in all directions. First, she eyed him, then Bucky, then him again, then the closed door.
"Where am I?" she seethed. "Where did you take me?"
Bucky approached and straightened his jacket. "I'm Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th, and this is.." He paused. "This is Private Steve Rogers under my charge." He ignored Steve's glare. "You were rescued by Captain America and brought here after we noticed your firearms."
Steve felt her grip on his forearm loosen, and he took a few steps back to give her space. He dressed himself in civilian clothing after she emptied her stomach on his suit. It was a good call. He was less intimidating this way, and judging by the shock on her face, it was probably a good thing. She was so shaken.
"I had the gun for protection," she said slowly. Her eyes dropped to her hands.
"Protection from who?" he asked, and he and Bucky exchanged looks.
The woman shook her head and rubbed her temples. "No one you know," she grumbled. "God, I have a headache. Did...did you hit me?" She narrowed her eyes at him.
He certainly did, but since he was in his uniform, she couldn't possibly know...
Steve stumbled over his words. Luckily, Bucky was there to help. "A minor casualty. I assure you. The Captain sends his apologies," he said.
She raised her brows at them, and Steve tried to give her an apologetic smile. She narrowed her eyes at him again.
He blinked.
"Right.. the Captain," she drawled with a roll of her eyes.
"You mind telling us your name?" Bucky asked, and he took a step closer to her.
After a moment of blank staring she said, "It's Kate."
"Kate who?" Bucky questioned.
"Kate...It's None Of Your Business."
Steve's eyebrows shot up.
Bucky scoffed. "Is that a way to talk to a Sergeant?"
She had that expressionless look on her face again. "Look, you're the ones who hit me while I was trying to save that God awful woman with the horrid shrieking. Now you kidnap me for questioning?" She let out an very un-feminine groan. "I am having a shitty day." She stretched her back and winced.
Steve's ears turned pink at her curses, and Bucky looked equally perplexed.
"Women don't go around saving other women," Bucky pointed out.
Kate rolled her eyes. "Well, the women you know are idiots." She stood and held out her hand. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be taking my gun now so I can be on my way." She gave them an unconvincing smile.
"I don't think so," Bucky said firmly. "You're in violation of carrying a weapon."
Steve cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Says who?" she grumbled.
Bucky cleared his throat, and Steve resisted the urge to clamp his hand over his eyes.
"Says the Captain," Bucky said with a firm nod.
Steve hoped they couldn't hear his sharp inhale. Trust Bucky to throw his alter ego under the bus. His lips twisted into a frown, but he nodded at Kate to reaffirm his friend's statement.
She scoffed again and placed her hands on her hips. "Is that right?" she said, and she turned to look at him. "So where is he?" Steve blinked, and she narrowed her eyes. "Tell your dumb ass Captain to come here himself and explain why being in possession of a weapon in a corrupted city is against the law."
Steve licked his lips anxiously. "He's not here right now," he managed.
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"That's right, and you'll stay here until we know exactly what happened," Bucky ordered with a nod of his head.
"Am I under arrest, Sergeant?"
Steve didn't miss the sarcasm in her tone, and he frowned. Bucky wasn't deterred though. In fact, he looked mighty amused..There was a familiar tug at the end of his lips that Steve recognized. He wanted to shut his eyes. This woman was his friend's type. She was tall, slender, had great complexion--No, he would not be surprised if mild flirting started soon.
He snuck a look at Kate.
Something told him though, that she was not the type of woman that Bucky could easily impress. Steve hid a sigh. Now that he thought about it, she looked so unimpressed, he was certain she badly wanted to hit them both in the face.
He eyed her shaking fists out of caution.
"No, you're not under arrest," Bucky said. "Look, we might have started off on the wrong foot. We're only trying to help you, Kate." Bucky took a step closer to her and flashed a trademark grin that Steve recognized all too well.
Here it was.
Steve did roll his eyes now, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to watch the silent exchange. He really didn't think Bucky was going to land this one.
Kate rubbed her temples again. "You're saying I need to stay here until Captain What's-His-Face shows up?"
Steve's mouth hung open. What was this woman's problem?
"It's Captain America," he corrected.
"Right. Sure."
He glared. This was different for him. He never openly glared at women, not even at Peggy when she was being difficult, which was usually about ninety-five percent of the time. Kate, however, was being plain rude. Rude and very ungrateful.
"You can stay here for the night," Bucky offered, and Steve frowned again. "We'll be in the room next door." He attempted to pat her leg, and she glowered.
Steve eyed Bucky and gave him a hard stare. Hopefully, his friend would catch on and they could retire for the night to discuss the strange woman's situation.
They needed more information if they--
"Got any food?"
He and Bucky both turned and raised their eyebrows.
It was peculiar spending time with a woman as bizarre as Kate. After much eye exchange, he and Bucky brought her to a local diner. He supposed she was humoring them, despite claiming she could, what did she call it?--Eat an elephant? It was an exaggeration, he was certain, and that she would end with an order of a smoothie like most women did.
When they sat though, Kate didn't spare a glance at the menu. She waved the waitress over and asked for two cheeseburgers. There was an excited glint in her eye until she asked for... What did she call it? Cheese fries? The waitress was equally confused, and then Kate's mood soured she asked for regular fries with a side of melted cheese.
He watched the lines crease between her eyebrows back and forth.
This was...too much dairy for Steve's liking, but Bucky commented that it looked appetizing and stole a fry from the plate.
Kate narrowed her eyes, a move he should have expected. She did not seem to be the type of woman to share.
He cocked his head to the side and continued to observe her.
She was definitely a woman, though Steve had his doubts. She didn't act like one, but the soft features, and slightly flushed cheeks were... No, she was definitely a woman, but she was an incredibly strange one.
He eyed her again, glancing up from his plate every few seconds.
The way she ate added to his curiosity. She was practically barbaric, wolfing down the burger like she hadn't eaten in days. He watched the bits of ketchup trail down her finger and fought the urge to cringe. She didn't use napkins, nor did she bother with wiping her mouth.
That wasn't the worst part of it. The chewing was just as terrible. She chewed while she spoke, and if that wasn't enough, she called for the waitress again and attempted to order a beer. The waitress, an elderly woman, was mortified.
He tilted his head again.
She only looked like a woman, but he could see Bucky's attraction.
When she smiled at them in the sarcastic way she did, her dimples came out. It was almost charming if it wasn't accompanied by a passive-aggressive comment. She had some freckles on her nose too, and he found that it oddly suited her. Her eyes were large and round. Steve gathered that she was young. Most likely in her late twenties, it was hard to tell, but she was old enough that it was also bizarre she didn't have a husband.
She was an attractive woman. She wasn't the most poised, but she was attractive nonetheless.
A little crazy too. He added that last bit in.
"Do you think I could take some to-go?" she asked.
When they settled back at the motel, Kate assured them she would stay and not dart off. She seemed genuine enough to keep her word, and he and Bucky retired to the other room.
"I don't know why you didn't give her your bed," Steve mumbled. He patted and fluffed his pillow sat on the carpet. "And why am I the one sleeping on the floor?"
Bucky shrugged. "I didn't realize she was cute. It was too dark out earlier," he said. "And you're sleeping on the floor because you're enhanced, and I need my beauty rest."
Steve sighed. That wasn't very convincing. "Sure," he muttered, and he paused. "Do you believe her story about her rescuing that woman?"
Bucky flopped down on the bed. "She puts on a brave face, but I think she's scared. That's why she had the gun."
Steve pressed his back on the uncomfortable floor and brought his arm on the back of his head. He stared at the ceiling light. "You don't think she's a little peculiar?"
Bucky thought for a moment. "Maybe. Pretty though. Did you see those dimples?"
Steve shook his head, and he huffed a light laugh. "She's your type for sure."
His friend yawned. "Not yours?"
"She's too...odd."
Bucky smirked. "The odd ones are the ones you don't forget."
Sharon waited until the sounds of light snoring echoed and vibrated against the walls. She had been laying in bed staring at the stained, popcorn ceiling for a little over an hour. For a while she thought of nothing, allowing her mind relax. It was something she never did, because she didn't believe it would be of any help.
She wasn't wrong. It didn't help.
Nothing would help.
She was...stuck in some time conundrum with no idea on how to get home. Her thoughts raced until she caught her breathing escalating in rapid gasps.
The minute she decided to help Steve Rogers in Germany, she knew she was done for.
Her life was ruined. She disappeared from her loved ones, went on the run, lost her job, was hunted like some animal...There were times where Sharon honestly couldn't remember why she sacrificed it all to assist a man she barely knew.
Oh, right, because her aunt said he was a good man.
And he probably was.
Steve Rogers was everything they said he would be. He was brave, courageous, kind, forgiving, and everything that was meant to be good wrapped in a neat package.
This was her own fault. The stories and the heroism made her curious. Maybe too curious.
It didn't help that he was easy on the eyes too. That's what bothered her more, because deep down a part of her nagged that his heroism and his values weren’t the reason she assisted him. They were part of it, yes, but...
She also liked him.
She had a crush.
It was a miniscule and fleeting and a passing thing, and she blamed it on the gentle smiles he gave her when they shared a hall, and how he thought of everyone else but himself.
Sharon wasn't going to deny that every woman's fantasy was to bring an ideal man to take home. Steve even had a fanclub of women who wished for it on a daily basis. Was he that type or man? Probably. But Sharon was a professional, so she stuck with light flirting. It was fun to tease him. He was incredibly shy.
So despite the feelings she had, she was perfectly prepared to push it away. She was doing quite well with it too until he had to go around and kiss her.
At the time, she saw something in his eyes, something intense. She still remembered it to this day. For a long time, Sharon wondered if the connection they shared was because of her blood relation to her aunt. Was that drew him in? Was he trying to find similarities between them that led to this kiss?
Sharon was no stranger to men.
She had a few past relationships that didn't end well. The nature of her job played a key role in that, but she knew when a man was interested in a woman. She knew what that looked like and what to watch out for, and Steve Rogers definitely looked interested.
He even looked interested when they shared a hallway in D.C. He was usually a bumbling mess and her flirting didn't help. For a time, distracting herself with meaningless flirtation seemed to work. He would blush when she smiled, and he always looked to want to say something that he couldn't get out. That behaviour followed him when they met again in London.
All said and done though, it was just a kiss. A goodbye one. But the woman in Sharon always wondered. There were plenty of what ifs. Could it have led to something more? There was just something so good about Steve Rogers that she wanted to bask in, wanted to bask in that goodness and be good herself.
Perhaps it was in the raw look in his eyes that promised she wouldn't end up broken, or a silent understanding that what they could have would be great.
Except he hadn't made her a promise. He kissed her and left, and she never saw him again.
Until today.
Sharon buried her face in her hands.
Out of all the places, out all the people and the different alternate universes she could end up in, it had to be one with him in it.
She considered the coincidence in all this. She thought there was no chance in hell she'd be able to see him again, because in truth, she did want to see him. She wanted the opportunity to ask, 'Why?' Why did he leave to go back to a woman he knew was happily married?
Sharon wasn't a fool. She knew Steve deserved a happy ending. He deserved it all, but she also loved her family. Whether it was in another reality or timeline, or whatever they called it, she loved them.
When she woke earlier that evening and found him looming over her, she wanted to give it to him straight. Yell, maybe cry, and then hit him even though she knew it wouldn't do much.
But this man wasn't her Steve.
He had never been hers to begin with, but.. This Steve was bright and full of hope. It was more than the usual if that was even possible, but there was an innocence about him that she couldn't explain. She saw it in his eyes--the naivety.
He was just starting out. It made sense. There had been a parade, he had that awful suit on, his aim was terrible.. Captain America was new, and that meant Steve Rogers had not been so hardened by the cruel fates of life.
Sharon groaned to herself.
Just her luck. She guessed it didn't matter how he was or how he acted, she was never seeing that version of Steve again. Hell, she probably would never see anyone she knew again, but it didn't mean she couldn't try.
Wanda's magic was unstable. Perhaps if she could find the way back to that alley, she could find a way. A clue or..or..something that could get her back to her own timeline.
First things first. She needed to get away from the two men next door.
What Sharon couldn't place was the odd timing of their appearance. The USO Tour was definitely over. She knew that part at least since her Aunt Peggy spoke about him so often. It was even in the exhibits, so it was strange that a few things weren't adding up.
For one, it didn't make sense for him to be hiding his identity, playing the part of a Private, or being back in New York at all during this period. Perhaps she was getting her history mixed up. Her head was still throbbing after all.
Softly, Sharon patted through the hardwood and tip-toed out the door.
Bucky confiscated her gun, and she almost rolled her eyes at how young and happy he looked. He was definitely different from the man she came to know, the Winter Soldier. It was a good thing. It meant he had no idea that the lipstick she kept in her holster was not in fact a lipstick. At least it was something she could use to defend herself in the interim.
She barely into her first few steps outside the rustic motel when a figure came from above and landed a foot away. She jumped, surprised, but was alert and ready.
She reached into her holster for the small tube and froze.
Damn it.
She groaned.
Steve had appeared dressed as Captain America.
She looked to the sky, biting back a string of curses. "What the hell are you doing here?" she grumbled.
His eyes narrowed. "I believe Sergeant Barnes advised you to stay in your room. Is there a reason you're defying those orders?"
Sharon frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "I do whatever I want."
"And where are you going to so late at night?" he asked.
She almost scoffed at how his voice was sounded slightly larger than she knew it was.
"Out for a walk." She pursed her lips.
"At one in the morning?" he deadpanned.
She nodded and gave him a forced smile. "Don't you have some damsel to save?"
"Funny," he said dryly. "I thought that's what I did tonight." He crossed his arms over his chest.
Sharon hummed. She never thought she'd find him this irritating. He was always so patient and understanding. Steve let her talk in whichever way she wanted and flirt whenever she liked. His usual response to her quirks was normally a sheepish smile and a light laugh.
But this one was...annoying.
Taking a deep breath, she decided on a different approach. She needed to go about this another way if she wanted him off her back.
Sharon flashed him one her brightest smiles, the ones she knew when her dimples came out and her Steve would blush and start rambling on sort-of-smile.
"Thank you for saving me, Captain," she started. "I couldn't have done it without you." She edged closer to him and placed a hand on his forearm.
His eyes widened.
No, they weren't so different after all.
There was a brief flush on his face. She could tell even through the mask he wore, and he opened his mouth several times to speak. Sharon grinned to herself.
She dropped her hand and inched away, scrunching her nose and keeping her lips curved up. "Thanks for taking care of me, but I should get going."
She gave him another smile and shyly waved her hand. She turned to walk away, satisfied.
"Wait."
She wanted to groan.
"Kate, is that right?" He paddled over to walk alongside her. "Let me ensure you arrive to wherever you need to safely."
Sharon's smile cracked. The docile attitude was certainly working on him much better, but if he didn't leave her alone soon, she couldn't promise that she could hold in the bubbling anger in her chest.
"You don't need to do that. I'm sure there are other more important things worth your time," she said.
He shook his head. "This is just as important." He sounded so unsure of himself. "I'm supposed to be a beacon of good for the people. It's the least I can do."
Sharon sighed, and her eyes fell to her feet as she walked. The sincere tone in his voice was genuine it, and it was hard to stay angry when looked like a gentle cat.
Technically, this one hadn't ruined her life...yet.
"I think you're doing just fine," she told him.
His brows furrowed. She saw the folds of his cowl that confirmed that.
"Yeah? It's not so easy to decide what's good for people at times," he said.
She shrugged. "Well you can't do that. No one should be advising what's good and what isn't for anyone. It's something people need to decide for themselves."
"So how would people know what's good or bad if you can't show them the way?" He sounded curious.
Her lips twisted together. "Well, the minute someone gets to decide what's good for you is really the time you should wonder why. No one gets to decide that but you."
"And the people who do bad? Torture others, start wars?"
Sharon breathed a sigh. "Like I said, people make their own decisions. You can't force someone to do good just because that's your version of good. You can only hope to guide them and see where that takes them. It's called free will."
She couldn't believe she needed to tell him this. Her Steve already knew this well. He turned over the whole world to fight the Accords.
"You're strange."
Sharon hiked up an eyebrow. He had that intense glow in his eyes again. Like the one she was accustomed to where he saw right through her, and again with the damned, 'Thank you, Sharon,' look.
She shivered and quickened her pace. "I'm fine though, really."
"I'll be honest," he said, and his much taller legs kept up with her easily. He lowered his head a little. "I'm following you." He sighed. "You're suspicious. It's only right that we investigate."
Well, if he was being honest..
"Look, I grew up knowing how to shoot guns. I've been doing it my whole life. Some lady screamed, I ran to help, and then you knocked me down. That's it."
"That's it," he repeated. "You go around saving people often?"
Sharon's lips thinned, but she didn't miss the obvious challenge in his tone. "You could say that," she said honestly. "Got to do what I can."
"With no resources or back up?"
She eyed the way he was staring at her. Her toes curled. His questions were making her feel uncomfortable, if not annoyed.
She blew a sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."
It was the truth. She was on the run for two years after he disappeared and until she got dusted to oblivion. So, yes, she had plenty of time trying to do what was right with no help and resources.
He gave a short, "Hn," and continued walking alongside her.
Sharon could tell he was anxious with her response, and she bit back a groan. This was probably the most awkward, most awful thing that happened to her.
It was funny that way though, because if she asked him for help, she had no doubt that he would help her. That was the kind of man Steve was, no matter how uncertain he seemed at the moment. How would that fare off though?
She didn't know anything about time travel, the quantum realm, or how Wanda's magic worked. What she did know was that in a year or so from now he'd be frozen in ice for the next seventy years.
A sinking feeling washed over her then. She hated him, but the thought of being alone in this era while he slept his years away made her want to vomit again. She blamed it on Wanda's spell. It was making her quite dizzy.
"Are you alright?"
She barely heard the worry in his voice, because now she was seeing him with two heads. The lightpost was also burning bright, and she faintly heard him calling her that fake name she gave before she was engulfed in a swirl of darkness.