Tony was loath to put any label on what he and Sharon had. It was something unique, something pure and he wanted it to stay untouched, untainted.
They were best friends of sorts. Even with their age gap, Tony treated her as his equal, and she never hesitated to fill him into the parts of her life no one knew about. They had trust, and were devoted to each other in a way family friends rarely were. Separated by time, distance and their day jobs, their bond made all obstacles moot.
Tony was the first person Sharon came out to. Not even her dad, Hal, who treated her like his princess. When Sharon told Tony that she liked both girls and boys, Tony kissed her forehead and told her that he will always love her, no matter whom she chose to love.
Sharon was the only person who knew that Tony missed (and loved) Elena to this day, despite Sharon not remembering the woman anymore. She hated how sad Tony looked at times, how he spaced out between conversations, how he fiddled with a necklace no longer there. Sharon hardly remembered it, but there used to be a ring attached to a chain.
Tony and Sharon knew every inch of each other. Every thought, every fear, every person that they ever loved.
Except one. One that neither would talk about.
Tony never talked about him. He had been conflicted the whole Accords situation, and Siberia had been a breaking point. Talking, or even thinking about him had become a taboo.
Sharon had been hiding something (someone) too, ever since her undercover op in DC. That silence between them, the unspoken words built a chasm of distance that grew, until one day it all came crashing down.
Sharon had barged into Tony's hospital room, after everything had happened, after betrayal and blood and broken trust, her eyes red and hair a golden halo around her head, looking like an avenging angel, fierce and angry.
Rhodey was asleep on the hospital bed beside his.
With a gentle hand that contradicted her visible emotions, she pulled away the blanket covering his chest. Her other hand tightened into a fist, knuckles white and pale.
"Who did this?"
Tony had been more emotional than usual, the meds had been wearing off. He'd blame that for the moisture in his eyes.
He didn't tell her. He didn't need to.
Only one single thing on the whole planet could leave a scar like that. Only one object such a distinctive curve.
Tony knew all about it, had written equations on it, had worshipped it as a child.
She had held it in her own hands.
The shield.
Sharon had drawn the blanket back up and bent down to press a kiss to his forehead, like the ones he always gave to her. Freely. Lovingly. Her kisses were rare, and this press of lips was devastating in its melancholy.
It felt like grief.
It felt like goodbye.
"CIA has dropped me after the unauthorised stunt I pulled in Berlin. They're coming for me, so I'm leaving," said Sharon quietly, her back straight, and her eyes locked on his. Brown met brown. Tony saw hopelessness and felt it in himself too.
"So you're just gonna leave, run away?"
"If that's what's going to keep my family safe from my mistakes." Her eyes dropped his chest, and something dark passed across her face. It was gone just as quickly, replaced with a blank detachment. "Then yes, I will."
Tony had tried to keep her close. "I can help you, I got many safehouses and trusted contacts. Just say the word."
She shook her head. "No."
She dropped one last kiss on his cheek, then as if she couldn't help herself, pressed another on his other bruised cheek, then another on his temple. Tony's eyes drifted close, tears slipping down his face silently. She brushed them away with her thumb, sniffling.
"I'm so sorry, Tony."
She left.
Hal came a few days later, distraught, asking for her.
Tony finally burst into sobs.
Tony never saw her again. Not after the dusting. Not in those five years. Everytime he looked into his daughter's brown eyes, Tony was reminded of Sharon, of Peter. Of everyone he had lost.
Captain America broke the Avengers.
Steve broke Tony and Sharon.