She was sitting on the cot, wrapped in the blanket she shared with her Papa. It wasn't the cold that made her shiver, it was the fact that that man, that monster, who looked like her Papa, wasn't her Papa. He was scary. He tried to hurt her. When she had called out to him, he looked at her like he didn't know her.

Her jaw throbbed where he had hit her with the back of his metal hand. Papa tried to avoid touching her, at all, with the metal hand. The monster had used it, deliberately.

Zola had looked pleased, when the monster had stalked towards her, when ordered. He had ordered her brought into that room, the one with all the equipment that she was supposed to be learning how to use, dragged from the cell she shared with Papa. The guards had dragged her by the arm, through the halls, laughing and poking at her, the entire time.

The concrete had been cold and sharp beneath her hands and knees, when they had thrown her into the room. She had looked up, blowing her hair out of her face, to see Papa standing off to the side, near Zola. But the look on his face... it wasn't Papa.

The door to the cell swung open, and the monster was escorted in by the guards. He was thrown to the ground, barely catching himself before he hit the floor. Slamming behind the laughing guards, the door echoed through their cell.

She pulled herself in tighter, her legs tight against her chest, the blanket covering all of her, except her eyes. If she made herself as small as possible, maybe the monster wouldn't know she was there? If he didn't notice her, maybe he wouldn't hurt her again?

He raised his head, pulling himself to his knees, looking around the cell. She froze, holding her breath, when his gaze settled on the cot.

"Baby Girl?" He called, his voice rougher and lower than normal. How did the monster know to call her that? That's what Papa called her.

"Hey?" He started crawling towards the cot, his gaze on hers. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She wanted to scream at him. Instead, she began to shift, to the far edge of the cot. If she could put it between them... maybe she could get away? But where could she hide from him, in the cell?

Surely Zola had not left them together, for the monster to kill her. She was important, the doctor had told her more than once. If she was important, then they wouldn't let the monster kill her, would they? Maybe it was her fault that the monster had come, that Papa had gone away. If that was true, maybe it was the reason they had left the monster in the cell with her. Maybe it was punishment, for not making sure that Papa did what he was supposed to. They wouldn't need her anymore if Papa didn't do what he was supposed to.

She felt the edge of the cot with her foot, slowly using it to pull herself further away from the monster. As soon as she felt the edge of the cot on her knee, she began to lower her leg, still watching the monster.

"Baby Girl, what are you doing?" The monster crawled closer, and she finally got both feet on the floor, the cot between them. "Hey, it's okay."

The monster sounded like Papa, he was using the words Papa used. But it wasn't Papa. Papa didn't hurt her. She didn't know how, but the monster was trying to act like Papa now.

He reached out, not with the metal hand, and tried to touch the blanket, but she shrieked and ran, trying to get as much distance between them as she could, knowing it was impossible; there simply wasn't enough room int the cell to get away.

"Brooklyn! Stop! You'll hurt yourself!" The monster cried, standing up and reaching for her.

She got tangled in the blanket that she had wrapped around herself, slamming into the ground, feeling something in her shoulder crack when it hit the concrete.

She curled up on the ground, crying, hearing the monster get closer, pulling the blanket around her, hoping that she could somehow disappear. Maybe he would make it quick? Maybe if it was quick it wouldn't hurt.

He dropped to his knees beside her, reaching out and pulling her over, onto her back.

She kicked out with her feet, striking him on the thigh, using the leverage to scoot away, trying to roll over onto her knees, to get away. He grabbed her ankle, and she screamed at him, kicking over and over, until he pinned her down, using the blanket to keep her limbs contained.

"Brooklyn... Baby Girl.. What's the matter with you?" He scooped her up, holding her to his chest, as she began to strike at him with the arm that wasn't hurting. "Stop it! What the hell are you doing?"
She kept wiggling, pushing, hitting, anything to get away. "No! No! NO!"

He held her tight, until she wasn't able to move. "Why do you keep trying to hurt Papa?"

"NOT PAPA!!" She screamed. "You aren't! You're the monster! Not my Papa!"

The blanket fell from her face, and she saw the monster, who was wearing Papa's face, look down at her in shock and horror.

"What happened to your face?" He leaned closer. "Baby Girl, what happened?"

She screamed again at him. "NO! NOT PAPA!!"

"BROOKLYN!" He shouted. "I am your Papa!"

"NO YOU ARENT!" She tried to slap at his face. "LIAR!"

"Oh, god." He whispered. There was something in his face with the horror, that she couldn't identify.

He grabbed her hand, and held her tight, beginning to rock back and forth. "Baby Girl, it is me, I am Papa. I'm so sorry. I am so so sorry. I didn't know... I swear, I would never... I don't ever want to hurt you, Baby Girl. I promise. Oh, god, please, forgive me. Forgive Papa."

She went still. "But you did. The monster did."

"I am the monster, Baby Girl." He was starting to cry. "They make me be the monster, in my head."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"I know, I know, Baby Girl." He picked up her hand. Pressing it to his forehead, he tried to make it clear to her. "In here. The monster is in here. And they make him come out, and do things. Things I don't want to do." He pushed her hand into his shirt, over where his heart was, the center of his chest. "But in here? In here I am always Papa. They cant take Papa out of there. Ever."

She burst into tears, burying her face against her Papa. "I'm sorry!"

"No, no, Brooklyn. You have nothing to be sorry about, do you understand me?" He held her close, stroking the back of her head, as she kept her hand on his chest, feeling his heart. "You just always remember, okay? You remember that Papa is always there, even when they make the monster come out. If you remember that, then maybe you can push the monster away, and make Papa free. No matter what they do to us, in there? In here we are always free."

The first thing she saw, when she opened her eyes, was her messenger bag, still sitting on the dresser where she had left it the night before. It taunted her, with it's contents. Brooklyn rolled over, pulling the pillow down to her chest. She was alone in the bed, the blankets tangled.

She could hear the TV in the living room, playing some kids show that Juliana had no doubt chosen. The smell of coffee was strong enough she could smell it from the bedroom, along with the smell of bacon. Rogers was apparently cooking breakfast, again. She hadn't yet told him that breakfast was usually a simple affair. Mostly because her cooking skills were very limited, but also due to the convenience that was afforded for it being just her and Juliana in the mornings.

Although, Rogers was starting to become a fixture, more and more. This was the second time she had allowed him to stay over, both times he had gotten up before her. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. Realistically, it made sense. Rogers was a morning person, like Juliana. Brooklyn, usually due to her late hours getting in from work, wanted to sleep in. It was nice, to have that luxury, with Rogers around. But she was wondering what it would feel like to wake up with him in the bed.

Sitting up, she rubbed her face, before letting her hand drop. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them, her gaze going to the messenger bag again. Brooklyn was torn, really torn by the contents.

"Hey." Rogers was leaning against the door jam to the bedroom, holding a coffee cup. "How you doing?"

She sighed. "I slept well."

He came over and sat on the bed, reaching out to hook her head with his hand. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to hers, before sitting back and handing her the cup. "Good morning?"

Brooklyn sipped the coffee. "It could be."

"I just finished making breakfast. Juliana is already tucking in. You want to come join us?" He stood up, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I've set some aside for you and its still warm."

Brooklyn nodded. Then she looked at him, really looked at him. His blue eyes were trusting, his face warm, the smile welcoming. She had felt so safe, in his arms last night. That he let her touch him, bare chested, last night, meant the world to her. The feel of his chest moving with his breaths, his strong resilient breaths. The pounding of his heart against her hand, the heat of him. Oh, god, he was so warm. She honestly was starting to believe that if she was ever captured again, and they tried to put her back in the cryo, if he simply wrapped her in his arms, they wouldn't succeed.

"Brooklyn?" he asked, pausing by the door. "Are you okay?"

She blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'll be out in a moment."

Rogers nodded, and left her alone.

Brooklyn returned her attention to the messenger bag. Sighing, she climbed off the bed,she set the coffee mug on the dresser, and picked up the messenger bag, putting it on the bed. Flipping the top open, she looked at the nondescript brown paper wrapped parcel.

Mr. Marino had received it at one of his offices, he had told her, when he had asked her to follow him into his home office, last night. It was addressed to him, but under it was co-addressed to Brooklyn. It had taken him a moment, he admitted, when he first saw the package. It wasn't until the return information, which stated that it had been sent from someplace in Europe, also clicked with him. Simply, "Barnes". That was when Mr. Marino realized the package was for her, sent by her father.

Almost six months, with no contact. Six months.

She was terrified about what was in that package. It could be many things. But she couldn't be sure, until she opened it.

Reaching into the messenger bag, she pulled the package out, running her fingers over the words written on the brown paper. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father's hand writing. Years, if she actually had to think about it. Pushing the messenger bag off the bed, ignoring the sound it made as it hit the floor, she sat down on the bed, holding the package in her lap.

She turned the package over in her hands, feeling the weight of it. It wasn't a heavy package, by any means. So, it was probably not anything dangerous.

Brooklyn knew she was procrastinating. She wanted to know what was in the package. But at the same time, she wanted to keep the mystery of it. If she opened it, she would know, and the anticipation of the communication from her father would be gone. But if she didn't open it, than the possibilities of what it contained, would always remain.

As she ran her hands over the package, her thumb caught the folded edge where the packing tape had failed, and pulled at the paper. She could hear the strain of the tape, as it gave away, leaving the fold loose. The decision made, she picked at the other side, until it matched, then she slowly unwrapped the brown paper from the package.

She let the paper fall to the floor, and looked at the brown box that was revealed. The tape holding the flaps closed gave away easily under her nails. Taking one last, deep breath, she opened the flaps and looked inside.

A small bear, brown and white in color with a bright pink ribbon, badly tied around it's neck. A small box, again with a badly tied ribbon, this one in blue, nestled near it. Two envelopes, one that looked like it would hold a card, the other a letter. Picking the bear out of the box, she fingered the bow, before noticing a small tag hanging from the ribbon. In her father's graceful handwriting, it simply said, 'Juliana'. Raising her eyebrows, she set the bear on the bed next to her, and reached for the box. On the corner of the top, was her name, also hand written.

Papa had sent gifts.

She sniffed, as her eyesight began to waver. Tears were forming. An aching in her chest made her feel like someone was squeezing her heart and lungs. She clapped a hand over her mouth, to contain the sob that was trying to break free. Pressing the small box to her chest, she closed her eyes and bent over the larger box. As she sniffed hard, trying to clear her nose, she caught a familiar scent, that sent the back of her throat scratchy with the need to cry.

Dropping the small box into the larger one, she blindly reached for the small bear, bringing it to her face, pressing it against her. Inhaling deep, she whined as she caught the scent on it.

It smelt of Papa.

His scent was on everything in the package. He had handled everything, and left his scent on all of it. It was a scent she would have identified blind, in the dark. She could have caught it in a busy street, and known it was him. It was the only scent from her childhood, from her teenaged years, her entire adulthood, that had ever brought her comfort. The warmth of him, the scent of him. That had been the touchstone for her sanity, all these years.

And she didn't even realize how much she had missed it, until this moment. With this small bear, pressed against her face, so she could inhale as much of her father's scent as she could.

Brooklyn pulled the bear away, sniffing again, not even trying to fight the tears. Brushing the plush fur of the small stuffed animal, she let a small sob leave her, before gently putting it back in the package. Part of her wanted to wrap everything up, preserve the scent, the trace of her father it had afforded her. Keep it for those days when she felt like everything was shaking apart in her hands, when she didn't know how she was going to keep everything together. To be a reminder, that her Papa had faith in her, and that faith was what was going to keep her going.

She heard a noise in the hall, a foot on the ground, and wiped at her mouth, trying to get her breathing back under control.

"Brooklyn?" Rogers entered the bedroom. "What's going on?"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and shook her head. "I'm okay. I'll be out in a moment."

"You are crying." He sat down on the bed. "You are clearly not okay."

She watched as he bent down and picked up the brown paper, that had wrapped the package. Sniffing again, she simply offered, "I was going to tell you."

Rogers turned the paper over, looking at the writing, before turning to stare at her. "How did...?"

"Marcus." She whispered. "He gave him the address, in case he ever needed to get in contact with us."

"You knew?" She flinched at the accusation in his voice. "Then why did he set up the web page?"

"In case he lost the address." Brooklyn reached in to the package and stroked the bear's fur. "Marcus wanted to make sure he could find us. If we ever left New York."

"Marino gave the package to you, last night, before we left." He turned the paper over in his hands. "That's why you were..." He paused, and swallowed. "Why didn't you want to open it, last night?"

"It was Juliana's day." She shrugged. "I knew I wouldn't handle opening it. That... and I was worried how you were going to handle it."

"How were you worried?" He reached out and took her hand in his.

"I haven't opened the letters yet." She tried to explain. "For all I know, he has instructions for me. To go to him. And that would mean leaving here."

Rogers gripped her hand, a little tighter. "You would have told me, right?"

She didn't look at him, didn't respond. She couldn't. The truth was, no, she would not have told Rogers. She would have packed up Juliana and left, without telling anyone.

"Brooklyn? You would have told me? Or let me come with you?" He was breathing heavier, she could hear it. But she refused to lie to him, not about this.

He all but threw her hand down as he stood up, planting his hands on his hips. He looked down, blowing air, before his face screwed up in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Brooklyn!"

"I..." She licked her lips with a tongue suddenly gone dry. "I would not. Have told you, that is. Or let you come with me."

He nodded. "You know I would have followed, or found you."

Brooklyn stroked the bear fur again, cocking her head to the side, considering this. She suddenly found his statement funny. "You would have tried. And you would have failed."

"I would have succeeded." He declared. "Because this?" He gestured between the two of them, "Is more then enough of a reason for me to not let you disappear."

"This?" She questioned, setting the package aside, and standing up. "What is this, exactly, Rogers? Because from where I'm standing? It raises a lot of questions."

He was towering over her, she knew he couldn't help it, the dumb oaf was just built taller than her. Rogers lowered his head, to meet her eyes. "This is me playing for keeps, Brooklyn. This is me, investing my time and energy in a woman that I want to see things through with. I haven't felt this way since Peggy."

"Peggy?" She questioned, thrown off course. "Who the hell is Peggy?"

"Peggy Carter." he looked embarrassed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he explained, "I was kinda courting her, before I went into the ice, back in Forty-Five."

Shocked, Brooklyn took a step back. "Peggy Carter, as in SHIELD founding member Peggy Carter? Peggy Carter as in Director of SHIELD Peggy Carter?"

"Yeah." He was blushing, but nodded his head. "That's her."

Feeling her jaw drop open, she stared at him, incredulously. He didn't know. He honestly didn't know anything. "You are in..what? Love, with her?"

Rogers sighed, but nodded. "I thought I was, yes."

Horrified laughter bubbled out of her chest. She didn't even try to stop it. "Oh, my god. THAT was your war time sweetheart?"

Rogers took a step back, looking at her, as she laughed. "I fail to see the humor."

"OH this isn't funny, at all, Rogers." She spat, letting the disgust fill her. "That woman..." She took a deep breath, took a moment to gather her thoughts. "That woman... If I could have put a bullet in her, I would have. Years ago."

Rogers was angry at that statement. His face flushed, and he began to snarl. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Where do you think all the money came from? Huh? For Zola to do all his tests on me, on my father, on my siblings?! He was gifted the facilities he needed, to keep us! By SHIELD! BY HER!" She screamed.

"Lyn?" Juliana's voice, soft and scared came from the door way.

"Jules, go to Mrs. De Luca's, and stay there until I come for you." Brooklyn ordered, not taking her eyes of Rogers.

"Wha..?" The little girl started, but Brooklyn cut her off.

"Now, Jules."

The little girl ran away, and she heard the door to the apartment open, then close.

"I don't know what lies you think you are trying to tell me, but Peggy would never have let-" Rogers began, through clenched teeth.

"More than once, when I was a child, I ran into her while Zola was escorting me through the SHIELD headquarters. She patted me on the head, and called me a 'darling girl'. Once, when I was bleeding from some experiment Zola had done, she handed me a sweet from her pocket, and told me that what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger." Brooklyn snarled. "Zola was a madman, but at least he was honest about it. That woman? She was a monster."

Rogers backed away as if she had punched him, but stepped back as he apparently regrouped himself. "You're insane. There is no way Peggy would have let Zola do...what he did to you, on SHIELD property."

Brooklyn snapped. She felt it. The tug, the pull, the snap. Diving past him, she wrenched open her sock drawer and pulled out the handgun she kept there. Pointing it at Rogers, she snarled, "Do not call me insane. Peggy Carter was as close to the devil as I will ever experience in my life. The day she dies is the day that I know there is a heaven, because my prayers will finally be answered, that she is finally getting the punishment she deserves for what she did to my father and I."

"Bucky?" He raised his hands, backing away, keeping his eyes on her firearm. "What did she do to Bucky?"

"Why don't you go ask your precious innocent Peggy Carter." She suggested, herding him out of her bedroom. "And don't ever call me insane!"

He was backing up down the hall. She could tell he was planning on something, trying to take the gun away from her, so she backed up a half a step, bracing for his first move. Rogers read her correctly, and backed up further. "Brooklyn, listen, I don't know what lies Zola told you, but I can promise you, Peggy had nothing to do with what happened to your family."

She bitterly chuckled. "Your promises are starting to fail you, Captain." She gestured with the firearm, a quick jerk, never letting her eyes leave his face. "Out of my apartment."

She saw fear, finally, in him. "Brooklyn... Don't!"

"Get out of my apartment, Rogers!" She ordered. When he didn't move, she took the safety off the gun. "Get the hell out of my apartment!"
He grabbed the light jacket he had tossed over the back of the couch. "Babydoll, please... don't do this."

"Get out of my apartment, get out of my building, get out of my borough, and get the hell out of my life!" She screamed. "I don't have time to waste with a man who would rather kiss Peggy Carter's ass, then see the facts in front of him!"

"Goddamn it, Brooklyn!" he snapped, still backing up. "Think about what you are doing!"

"I am thinking. I am thinking about my safety. About my family's safety." She shifted her weight, bracing. "I'm counting to three, and one of two things are going to happen. Either you leave this apartment building of your own free will, or you will leave it on a stretcher."
Rogers opened the apartment door, backing into the hallway. "Brooklyn, you aren't going to shoot me."

He wasn't sure of it. She could hear it in his voice. "One."

Backing down the hallway, he kept his eyes on her. "Brooklyn, please, don't do this. Don't, please."

He had reached the top of the stairs. She clenched her jaw. "Two."

Rogers had to check his footing as he began to back down the stairs. "I don't want to lose you."

Brooklyn held her head high. "Too late. Three."

She deliberately aimed off, having no real intention of killing him. The bullet passed his head, and lodged into the wall behind him. He still flinched, almost losing his footing, as he tried to duck. He slid down the stairs on his hands and knees, coming to rest on the landing. Looking up at her, his eyes filled with remorse, fear, and something she couldn't identify, he pleaded, "Brooklyn, no! Please!"

"The next one, Rogers? The next one wont miss." She aimed for the solid mass of his body. "And at this range? You wont survive. Get the hell out, now."

She didn't check to see if he followed her orders. She turned on her heel, and went back to her apartment, slamming the door behind her. As soon as she took her first real breath, since finding out Rogers was in love with PEGGY FUCKING CARTER, she started to shake. She made it no more then three steps, before falling to her knees. She covered her mouth with one hand, looking down at the gun in the other.

What had she just done? She had pulled a gun on Steve Rogers, fired a shot at him. She had threatened him.

Oh, God. She had just threatened Captain America.

Any moment, the Avengers could be on her doorstep, to haul her off somewhere.

She was going to lose Juliana.

Brooklyn stood up, looking down at the gun again. Disgusted at herself, she threw the gun away, hearing it slide along the floor as it landed.

Measuring her breaths, she took calm steps back to her bedroom. Grabbing her phone off the bedside table, she unlocked it, running down the numbers, until she reached the one she needed. Hitting the green button, she waited as it rang.

As soon as it was answered, she started talking. "I need someone to pick me and Juliana up. I don't want to discuss it. I cant stay here."

She ended the call without anything further, dropping the phone on the bed, before pulling clothes out of the dresser. She quickly changed, then going to the closet, and pulling out the suitcase, already packed, that was in there. She pushed it into the hall, before going to Juliana's room, and pulling out the packed suitcase from her closet. Making sure it was next to the other one, Brooklyn began making a quick run through of her bedroom, picking up small items she had scattered, stuffing them into her messenger bag. The last item in her bedroom she took was the brown package, sent from her father. She tucked it under her arm, slung the messenger bag over her shoulder, and picked up the suitcases. She ignored the TV, still turned on and showing happy cartoon characters. She ignored the kitchen, still a mess from Rogers making breakfast. She ignored her shoes, lined up on the floor along the wall. She ignored her keys, still hanging on the hook.

Brooklyn walked out of the apartment, stopping to make her apologies to Mrs. De Luca about the noise, and telling Juliana to follow her.

The Italian widow saw the suitcases, and asked where she was going.

"A small vacation, before school starts, Mrs. De Luca." Brooklyn informed her.

Juliana grabbed her small suitcase, silent, her eyes big with such worry on such a small face, as she followed her sister down the stairs to the door of the building.

Barefoot, the two females stepped out of the building, and towards the large black SUV with tinted windows. Brooklyn helped Juliana into the backseat, making sure she was strapped in, as the driver loaded up their suitcases into the back.

She went around the back of the vehicle, opening the back driver's side door, pausing when the hair on the back of her neck rose. Looking around, she saw Rogers, standing on the sidewalk, across the street.

His face was devastated, head shaking slowly, as he met her eyes.

Brooklyn raised her head, almost trying to look down on him, before she climbed into the SUV, and shut the door, blocking him from her vision.

The driver got into the vehicle, started the car, and pulled away.

Brooklyn laid on the bed, Juliana snuggled up against her, looking out the window with the skyline of Manhattan lit up against the night sky. Ironically, the Avengers tower was the brightest, right in her sights.

The hotel she was currently in, plush and dripping in class, was the perfect hideaway. No one would think to look for two HYDRA fugitives in an eight hundred dollar a night suite, right off fifth avenue. The traffic on the street was so far below, that no sound could be heard.

Content that Juliana was out for the night, she sat up, swinging her bare legs over the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes on the Tower. Standing up, her feet sinking into the plush carpet, she walked to the window. Cocking her head, she considered for a moment, before turning, and picking up her phone.

There had been constant messages from Rogers, almost from the moment he had watched her climb into the SUV, and drive away. The calls had come as well.

Sometimes she had watched the call, sometimes she hit decline right away.

She turned away from the window, making sure Juliana was tucked in securely, before leaving the bedroom, going into the living room area of the suite. The windows were bigger in here, the view better. Well, better if you discounted the Avengers Tower.

Brooklyn was starting to dislike irony.

As if he had a sixth sense regarding her, her phone lit up with another call from Rogers.

She sighed, and finally hit the green button on the screen.

Before it was even fully to her ear, she could hear him.

"Brooklyn? Please, don't hang up." Rogers was almost panting. "Please, just... just talk to me?"

She took a seat on one of the couches, facing the windows, staring at the Tower.

"Look, I know... I know I handled this morning badly. I do, Brooklyn. This one is on me. Please, can you just talk to me?" His voice was dropping, going rough.

She let her gaze run over the Tower, trying to find his floor. Would Stark have given him a floor close to the top, or would he have put Rogers closer to the bottom, close to the business floors.

"Can you meet me? Even if it's on the corner of some street, just meet me? Let me apologize?" She could hear some sort of emotion in his voice. She couldn't place it.

"Just... let me hear your voice? Please, Babydoll? Anything, just let me hear you?"

The residential floors would have some type of privacy tinting. Knowing Stark, it would also work with his smart system. All the fancy do-dads that would make a techy like Stark happy to be in his little ivory tower.

"At least let me know you are safe? That Juliana is safe?" He paused, then groaned. "I don't mean that I think you would let anything happen to her. I know better. But, I'm worried."

Brooklyn wondered how Stark kept the wind sheer, caused by the Tower's height, from affecting the patio access at the top. It would be difficult, she imagined, to protect the use of the patio, even on semi sunny days. Windy days must make it impossible to use.

"I'm worried, Brooklyn. I'm so worried, that I've lost you. I was so happy, this morning. Waking up next to you? Its one of the greatest feelings, in my life. To know that you had trusted me, last night, to ask me to let you touch me, like that. I felt so honored. And I don't want to lose that. I don't want to contemplate... the idea, that I've lost that."

She wondered what hardware she would need, if she was ordered to take out a resident of the Tower. High powered scope, for sure. Definitely a high quality military grade sniper rifle. Something to be able to see through the windows. Hollow point bullets, designed for armor piercing. A good vantage point. Ghillie suit, to blend in with the vantage point, if it was on top of a building. Patience, and a shit ton of luck, she figured.

"Brooklyn, please. Just say something, anything to me. Let me know that you are hearing me? Please?" Rogers breathed.

She took a deep breath. "I told you, once, that you would be dangerous to me. I should have taken my own warning to heart."

Rogers exhaled though the phone. "No, Brooklyn. No. I promise you-"

"No more promises, Rogers. You're credit is shot with me." She wasn't emotional. She felt very very calm. Like if she blinked, the whole world would turn off. Like one of Jules's cartoon shows, when you hit the remote.

"Please, don't do this." She wondered if that was him begging. "I don't... please, don't shut me out."

"I learned early, never trust people who are too nice. They always show their true colors in the end." Brooklyn got up, and walked to the window. She pressed her hand against the glass, bringing it down, until the 'A' of the Avenger's Tower was hidden. "This... this thing, is done. Don't bother me, ever again. We have nothing. We are nothing. I should have known better, from the minute you first took my hand, this wasn't going to end well."

"Brooklyn, plea-"

She hung up. Letting the hand holding the phone drop, she let the phone slip through her fingers. Turning from the window, she walked back into the bedroom, pulling the window curtains, blocking out the view of the Tower. Brooklyn crawled into bed, next to her sister, resting her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes.

Emptying her head, pushing out all the noise, she let sleep come to her.

Brooklyn was sitting on the couch, legs pulled under her, drinking coffee and watching Juliana eat breakfast off a coffee table, when the door beeped a warning someone was coming in. She sat up,alert, as the Marinos entered. Kitty had a bunch of shopping bags hanging from her arms, while Mr. Marino had a deep, disapproving frown on his face.

"Nonno!" Juliana shouted, jumping up and running towards the older woman. "You came to visit us! We are having a vacation! Did you know?"

"I did, my darling." Kitty cooed, bending down. "Do you want to go into the bedroom with me, and go through these bags? I brought you and Brooklyn some things, but I want to make sure they are going to fit, before I leave them."

"Yes!" Juliana jumped up and down, "I wanna see what you brought!"

The little girl led Kitty to the bedroom, who turned, giving both Mr. Marino and Brooklyn a look before she shut the door.

Brooklyn sighed, and put the coffee cup down. "I'm sorry."

Mr. Marino came to take a seat on the couch, next to her, leaning back and crossing his legs. Stretching an arm along the back of the couch, he shrugged at her. "And what do you have to be sorry for?"

"Did Henry tell you why I called?" She asked, picking at her nails.

"He said you called, told him you couldn't stay there, and to have someone pick you up. He didn't say why, though." Mr. Marino waved the hand on the couch. "Based on what's been going on, I feel safe in assuming, though, that Captain Rogers had something to do with it."

"Yes, and no." She admitted. "I was opening the package, the one you gave me, when he came in. I was already... I guess I would call it emotionally compromised. And he mentioned someone from my past... his past... Our past.. And I reacted, badly. I pulled a gun on him. And I took a shot at him."
"But he's still alive?" Mr. Marino asked, most likely to confirm. "He's not dead in a ditch somewhere, is he?"

She shook her head. "Didn't even scratch him." then she gave him a look of disbelief. "You don't think my aim is that bad, do you?"

He laughed. "No, no. I know your aim is spot on. Anyway, continue, please."

"After he left, I called Henry, grabbed Juliana, and Henry brought us here." She finished. She looked at Mr. Marino, waiting for him to lash out at her, something.

He instead heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, this is a fine mess, I'm not going to lie. Why did you feel you had to call Henry, though?"

"I pulled a gun, and fired at an Avenger, let alone at Captain America?" She spoke slowly. "I'm pretty sure that is considered a treasonous crime."

"It's not good. But considering you are in a relationship with him, I'm pretty sure the Avengers are going to chalk it up to a lovers squabble." He shook his head.

"I'm not in a relationship with him." She denied.

Mr. Marino cocked his head. "And yet, at my house you were pretty snuggeley with him. Kissing and hand holding. That's relationship things."

"And I'm pretty sure pointing a gun in his face, as well as telling him last night that we were done, is the end of relationship things." Brooklyn pointed out. "I know I'm new at these things, but I'm pretty sure that is how those things go."

Marino laughed. "If you knew how often Kitty pulled a gun on me, and told me we were done, over the years? I'm pretty sure you would second guess that statement. She tried to shoot me, when she found out she was pregnant, the first time. As often as she threatened me, when she was in labor, I'm surprised she hasn't gone through with it."

Brooklyn shook her head. "But you two love each other. Rogers and I... We aren't like that."

"All I'm saying, it's not like it's something you can't come back from." He leaned forward, "If Rogers is half the man I think he is, then he's not going to bat an eye at you pulling a gun on him, occasionally. It's what you do, after you pull the gun, that he might take issue with."

Rubbing her face, she shook her head again. "I told him not to bother me, ever again. I told him we were done."

Mr. Marino kept chuckling. "You are a woman. It is your prerogative to change your mind." He leaned over and patted her hand. "You'll see. Men say that they want a woman who is sweet and submissive. But in reality, they want one who will stand up to them, put them in their place. A fighter. And you, my dear, are a fighter, born and bred."

She flipped her hand over in his, gripping his, giving him a small smile. "You are too good to us."
He rocked his head on his shoulders. "Ah... what can I say? You are my girls. And my girls can always come to me, when they have issues."

"I also have another one." She sighed. "I don't want to work in the club, for a while."
"Then take the time off." He waved his hand. "I'll make sure no one gives you issues."

"No, I don't think you understand." Brooklyn shifted, so she was facing him on the couch. "I know, that the Russian mob has been giving you problems. I can take care of them."

Mr. Marino frowned. "What are you saying, Queenie?"

Brooklyn swallowed, and took a deep breath. "I have a certain skill set, one I was trained into, for most of my life. I am good. Really good. And I know that protecting the Family, means that my family is protected. I am willing to... use my skills, to ensure the safety of your interests."

Mr. Marino, still frowning, began rubbing his bottom lip with his finger. "That's a big favor, that I would be asking of you."

"Consider it payback, for everything your family has done for mine, and continues to do." Brooklyn offered.

"And what would you do with Juliana, while you are doing this favor?"

Biting her lip, she glanced over her shoulder, at the closed bedroom door. "I would ask that you and Kitty take her, until I'm done. If I'm correct, it wont take more then a week, maybe two." She rocked her head. "Maybe three, if it is bigger than my projections, based on my information."

"I'll consider it." Mr. Marino raised his hand, cutting her off when she went to protest. "I will consider it. Let me talk to some of my people, and see how feasible it is. I don't necessarily like the idea of using you like that."

"You aren't using me, if I offer." She pointed out.

He shook his head. "I said I will consider it. The conversation is done, for now." He shifted, switching his crossed legs. "Now, on another note, Kitty is taking you to the doctor today. Juliana and I are going to go to the museum."

"I don't want to go to the doctor." Brooklyn frowned.

"You want me to consider your offer? You go to the doctor with Kitty. You go, and you let them do what tests they need to, to make sure that you are safe, and healthy." He grabbed her hand, squeezing it.

She sighed. "Fine."

"Good." He stood up, adjusting his shirt. "Now, lets get those two out of there, or we will never get this show on the road."

***************************************************************

Brooklyn sat in the comfy chair, in the doctor's waiting room. She was cracking her knuckles against her jaw, trying to keep her breathing measured. Kitty was sitting next to her, flipping through a magazine.

"So, do you want to tell me what happened, yesterday?" Kitty asked nonchalantly.

Sighing, she shifted in her chair. "I ended things with Rogers. At gun point."

Kitty paused, as if taking that in, before continuing to flip through the magazine. "Well, that's not the first time a woman has done that."
"He just... he kept telling me, to let him in, to tell him things, that he could handle it. And the first time I do, he jumps to the defense of the person I was telling him things about." Brooklyn dropped her hand to her lap. "I guess, I felt that if he wasn't going to believe me about that, then why bother? He wouldn't believe me about anything else I was going to have to tell him."

"Mrs. Marino? Ms. Bianchi? We are ready to take you back, now." A nurse, dressed in cartoon character scrubs, opened the door to the waiting room. "If you would like to follow me?"

Brooklyn and Kitty gathered their things, and followed the nurse through the door, down a hall, and to a room.

"Dr. Gibson will be with you, soon. Please change into the gown on the table?" The nurse nodded, as she shut the door.

Blowing the air out of her lungs, Brooklyn picked up the gown. It was better then the ones she used to wear, in HYDRA, so there was that going for it. She quickly undressed, leaving her underwear on, and pulled on the gown. It crossed in the front, tying on the sides, and after Kitty finished folding her clothes neatly, she lent a hand tying the gown.

"Up on the table." Kitty pointed, taking a seat in the chair. "Back to our discussion. I thought you liked him."

"I did. I do. But I don't think I can let him close, anymore." Brooklyn lifted herself onto the examination table, swinging her legs, picking at her nails. "His girlfriend from the war, Peggy Carter, was someone who knew what Zola was doing, when I was younger. He refused to believe it. Then he called me insane."

"He called you insane?" Kitty's eyebrows raised. "Well, damn."

"To be fair, i think that is what made me grab the gun." Brooklyn shrugged. "But he kept defending her. Telling me I must have misunderstood something Zola told me, or something. That Peggy never would have had let something like that happen. That I was feeding him lies."

"Well, damn." Kitty sat back. "I read him all wrong."

"I kicked him out." Brooklyn looked around the room. It bared no resemblance to the medical facilities she had previous experience with. "Called Henry, had him come pick us up. I saw Rogers across the street. The look on his face..."

Kitty waited.

"It was like... I had... he looked... almost like he was watching something hurt him." Brooklyn shook her head. "He started calling and messaging me almost immediately."

"That's why you gave your phone to Francis?" Kitty shifted in the chair. "He said something about taking care of it."
Brooklyn nodded. "He's getting me a new phone number, I think."

Kitty nodded as well. "That's one way to keep him away. If that is what you are concerned about."

"Kitty, I-" Brooklyn paused, then considered her words carefully. "I like him, I am attracted to him. But I don't know if I can ever trust him. Not when he couldn't trust me to tell him the truth."

"Men are stupid, Brooklyn." Kitty explained. "It doesn't help, probably, that you were telling him horrible things about a woman he had feelings for. That doesn't excuse him not believing you. But it might help you understand his actions."

"Last night, he was so emotional. He kept asking me to talk to him, to meet him, to let him apologize. He said he didn't want to lose me. That he didn't even want to think about it." Brooklyn began cracking her knuckles against her jaw. "I think he's actually hurting, Kitty."

"How does that make you feel?"

Brooklyn considered the question. "I don't like it. I don't want him to hurt. But I also don't want him to hurt me, anymore. Because it did, Kitty. It hurt me, when he didn't believe me."

There was a short knock at the door, before it opened. A dark haired man, of middling age, entered. Wearing a white coat, and a buttoned down shirt of lilac, with no tie, he had a friendly demeanor. "Hello! I'm Doctor Gibson. And you are Brooklyn Bianchi?" He held out his hand to Brooklyn, and she looked at it, before slowly taking it. "I understand you are here, for a variety of reasons?"

"Hello, Dr. Gibson." Kitty stood up, coming over to stand by Brooklyn.

"Mrs. Marino!" He smiled at Kitty. "I'm glad to see you are doing well."

"I'm doing very well. Did you get a chance to look over the medical files we sent over, when we made the appointment?" Kitty placed a hand on Brooklyn's forearm.

"I did. I went over them, very carefully." Doctor Gibson took a seat on the little stool, and opened his computer. "Okay, Brooklyn, first things first. I want you to know, that I am your doctor. Your private doctor. Everything you tell me, everything we do, everything we learn about you, is private. I have worked for the Marino's for a few years now, so I know how this works. All your lab work will be submitted under another name, and if we take any bodily fluid, as soon as the labs are completed, they are personally destroyed by me or my staff."

Kitty patted Brooklyn's arm. "I told you I would choose you a doctor."

Doctor Gibson nodded. "I understand that we are going to discuss some difficult subjects, regarding your past medical history. And I want you to know, that if it gets to be too much, you let me know, and we can move on, but I do need to know, so I can help you better."

"I understand." Brooklyn nodded, cracking her knuckles against her jaw.

Kitty took her hand, and held it, keeping her from cracking her knuckles. "And you know about the other condition?"
"Yes." Doctor Gibson nodded. "If we do any medical procedures, I will discuss each step, before hand, in detail, so you know what we are doing."

Blowing out the air from her lungs, Brooklyn nodded. "Okay."

Doctor Gibson clapped his hands together. "Alright, shall we begin?"

Over the next hour, the doctor asked her questions, regarding her time in HYDRA, if she could explain any of the medical procedures that had been done to her, as well as her sexual history (none). He was very polite about his questions, always telling her he knew this was difficult for her to talk about. When he finally rolled away from the computer, he looked at her with an apologetic look.

"At this point, I am going to have to start the physical examination, Brooklyn. I will start with taking the easy stuff, like your heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen, temperature, weight, and height. From there we have to begin the invasive part. Blood samples, and the like. After that, we will take a short break, and move on to the internal exam." He stood up, taking the stethoscope from around his neck. "Are you okay, with me touching you now?"
She nodded, and he began.

He tried to go slowly, informing her of everything he was doing, before he did it. Kitty held her hand, through most of it, and when he finished the non-invasive part of the exam, he stood back and nodded.

"Well, you are a little underweight for your height. I'd like to see that change, but for the most part, you are as healthy as one can expect for a woman in her early twenties, which is what your body indicates. Reality, you are beyond healthy for a woman in her late sixties." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "I'm going to ask the nurse to bring in the things to take your blood, and then we will take a break, before we start the internal part of the exam. Is that alright?"

Brooklyn nodded. "That's fine."

Dr. Gibson opened the door, and talked to someone outside of it, accepting what was handed to him. He spread the equipment out on the counter, and showed it to her. It consisted of the tourniquet, the sealed alcohol pads, the needle in the collection holder, the collection tubes for the blood, and a few pieces of gauze. He changed his gloves, and picked up the tourniquet, asking her for her arm, explaining what he was doing, as he wrapped the rubber ribbon around her arm, above the crook of her elbow, before palpitating the area around her inner elbow.

He explained he was waiting for the pressure to make one of her veins pop, or present enough for him to find it, and when he did, he ripped open an alcohol swab, rubbing the area he was going to insert the needle into.

She watched him, as he picked up the needle, and he warned her when he was going to insert the needle into her arm. The sting was annoying, but not painful, and it was interesting to watch her blood flow into the collection tubes. He took three samples, he explained, so they could run a battery of tests, one of which was a hormone level test. Dr. Gibson explained to her, that if she was really coming off of a hormone suppressant, then knowing her hormone levels now, might help her later.

He pulled the needle out of her arm, and held the gauze to the collection site, asking her to hold it, while he grabbed a piece of tape to hold the gauze for her.

"Okay, I'm going to take these to the lab, and get them started, so that maybe we can get your results before you leave." He sat down on the stool, and clasped his hands. "I know you said you weren't engaging in sexual activity, right now. But have you had anytime to think about birth control? I don't want to push, because of your history, but I would be remiss if I didn't bring it up, while you are here for your internal. Because of your...genetic anomaly, I would not suggest something like oral contraceptives. I would even question the efficacy of things like the Ring. Implants, are a possibility, but I would actually recommend an IUD, or internal uterine device. It goes into your uterus, and it can be effective for over five years, depending on how your body reacts. It is also easy to remove, and there has been great success in post IUD pregnancy, if that is something you want, later down the road." he leaned back. "The only reason I bring this up, is I know some of your issues, in regards to the internal exam. I would not normally suggest combining the exam with the implantation of the IUD, but for the sake of making things easier on you... well, to put it indelicately, as long as I'm up there, it would be killing two birds with one stone."

Brooklyn looked at Kitty, who nodded. "It's up to you, Brooklyn. But it might be a good idea. Just in case."

Facing the doctor, Brooklyn nodded. "I'll do the IUD. If you wouldn't mind, Doctor."

He shook his head. "Nope. I'll go get things ready. I'll give you some time to ready yourself." He stood up and left, shutting the door behind himself.

"Brooklyn, you need to take off your underwear." Kitty informed her, softly.

She nodded, and slid off the exam table. Reaching under her gown, she hooked her underwear with her fingers, and pulled them down her legs, balling them up in her fist. Kitty reached out for them, and she flinched.

"It's okay. We are women." Kitty took the underwear from her, and tucked them into her clothes. "I wont leave you, okay? I'll stay with you, through out the whole exam."

"Thank you, Kitty." Brooklyn whispered.

"Oh, no." She waved her hand. "Like I've been telling you, you are family. And this is what family does. Now, tell me. Would you take him back?"

Brooklyn blinked, confused for a moment. Then, it dawned on her what Kitty was talking about. "How can I? And isn't it the other way around? Since I'm the one who ended things? Wouldn't he have to take me back?"

"From the way he was looking at you, during Juliana's birthday party? I doubt it would take much for him to take you back. The man looked besotted." Kitty giggled. "The question is, would you ask him to?"

"I don't know. Again, he didn't believe me. And if he didn't believe me about that, when I tell him other things, how will I know he's going to believe me about them? I was working, really hard, to let him in, to trust him. To believe his words." Brooklyn looked down at her hands, concentrating on keeping them steady. "If I cant trust him, how can I trust myself around him?"

Kitty nodded, humming in agreement. "You know, when I was young, my father wasn't a good man. He wasn't like your Papa, who loved you and tried to protect you. He hurt me, and my sisters. And I tried to tell my mother, I really did. But she never believed me. Other people, who I tried to tell, didn't believe me. So I learned to hide it, to pretend it didn't happen. It festered, deep inside of me. I felt broken, because not only had these things happened to me, no one believed me, or heard me. So I ran away, and ended up in Vegas. I was a good dancer, and I quickly got a job at one of the Casinos, on the strip. Two shows a night, six days a week. I was good. Really good. It wasn't long before I was in the front line. I even was an understudy for the headliner, and was the main role, more than once. That was how I met Francis. And we fell in love. But I still felt broken. I thought, even if I told him, he wasn't going to believe me, and worse, leave me, because I was so broken. So, I didn't tell him. We got married, he moved me out here, and I tried to make my marriage work. Then I got pregnant. I was a mess. I was terrified, that Francis would turn out like my father, and if I had a little girl, he would hurt her, like my father had hurt me. It kept me up at night. I made myself sick. I almost lost the baby, because of the stress I was putting on myself. Finally, Francis sat me down, and begged me to tell him what was wrong. And when I did, he believed me. He held me, and cried for me." Kitty wiped at her face, sniffing. "Two days later, he left for a few days, and then I got a call from someone from my hometown. My father had been found in his car, with a bullet to the back of his head, and his cock cut off. And I know that my husband did that, for me. So that I could bury my demons, along with my monster."

Brooklyn held Kitty's hand tight. "I doubt Rogers is going to go that far."

"No, but what I am trying to say, is that sometimes we get so used to people not hearing us, that the idea that someone does, and that someone cares is so strange to us. Women, throughout history, have gotten so used to not being heard, when something happens to us, that we have, as a gender, learned to suffer in silence. Your abuse may not be what is considered traditional abuse, as in sexual or physical. But it was abuse. And you do deserve someone who hears you. Rogers heard you, and on some level, he had to believe you. His reaction was wrong. Very wrong. He had no right to try to tell you that you were wrong. But I do think, because he cares about you, that he believes you. Just keep telling him."
"I don't know if I can." Brooklyn admitted.

"Then find someone who will. Someone you know will believe you." Kitty said firmly. "Someone who you can trust enough, to trust yourself around."

Doctor Gibson knocked on the door, and Kitty looked at her for permission before informing the doctor her could come in.

He came in, pulling a metal tray with instruments laid out on it. As before, with the blood draw, he showed her everything, and explained what they were for. He even showed her the sealed package the IUD was in, letting her hold it. It seemed such a tiny thing, to control something so big.

"Okay, Brooklyn, we are going to start with the breast check. I am going to ask you to lay back, and i will palpitate your breasts, to check for lumps. I don't expect to find anything, due again, to your genetic anomaly, but on the off chance, I would be remiss to not do it. Is that okay?"
Brooklyn swallowed, and nodded, laying back on the exam table.

"I'll be right here, Brooklyn." Kitty assured, taking her hand. "I wont go anywhere."

Doctor Gibson came up, on the other side of the table, and opened the top of her gown, exposing her to the slightly cool air of the room. He moved one arm, and began the exam.

Brooklyn kept her eyes on the ceiling, focusing on the patterns. She pushed the feel of the his hands on her, telling herself he was only doing his job as a doctor. It didn't hurt. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se. It was just... it didn't feel right.

He moved quickly, keeping his voice soothing, and it was over quickly.

"Okay, Brooklyn. I need you to move down, and put your feet in the stirrups." He moved to the foot of the table, and moved the metal legs out for her to put her feet into.

Brooklyn froze. "I don't..."

"Brooklyn, it's okay. I'm right here." Kitty soothed. "He's not going to hurt you. He just wants to make sure you are healthy, remember?"

She took a deep breath and shifted down. As she put one foot into one of the metal stirrups, she had a flash of memory.

Zola.

The guard's smirk, his hungry look.

The feeling of shame as her privates were exposed.

"I can't..." She whispered. "I can't..."

"You are almost there, Brooklyn." Doctor Gibson soothed. "You can do this."

She lifted her other leg, and shakily, put it in the last stirrup.

"There you go." Kitty held her hand. "You are so brave!"

"Okay, I need you to move down further, until you feel like you are about to fall off, Brooklyn. There is a handle on the side, which you can grab, to help if you need it." Dr. Gibson scooted closer between her legs on his stool. "I'm also going to spread your legs further. It might be uncomfortable, but I'm going to try to go as fast as I can, alright?"

She nodded, reaching for the handle with her free hand. Grabbing it, she used it to move her body down, as Dr. Gibson cranked the metal legs apart, causing an ache at her hips as her legs swung apart further. She could feel cool air on her genitals. She shivered, and made a sound in the back of her throat.

"You are doing good, Brooklyn." Dr. Gibson praised.

Kitty stroked her head, and brought her hand up to her lips, kissing it. "You are okay, Brooklyn. I'm right here with you."

She turned her head, and met Kitty's eyes. The older woman had a small reassuring smile on her face.

The doctor was telling her what he was doing, as he proceeded with the pelvic exam.

At one point, he put his fingers in her, he explained, while pressing on her stomach, to see what position her uterus was in. It didn't hurt, it just was uncomfortable.

She closed her eyes, when he began to tell her he was preparing the speculum.

When he inserted it into her, she whined in her throat, and decided to just let his words wash over her. At this point, she didn't care. She just wanted this to be over and done with.

Kitty kept stroking her head, whispering words of encouragement and praise. Brooklyn kept her hand wrapped around the handle on the exam table, clutching it for stability, to ground herself. She felt a pinch, deep inside, and she could hear the disgusting words of the guard, from long long ago.

She sniffed, feeling tears escape her, as a deeper, sharper pain, like a long hard cramp hit her. She let a small cry escape. Kitty was kissing her forehead, still whispering words of comfort.

Suddenly, she was empty, and her legs were being pushed closer together. She opened her eyes, and Kitty was grinning at her.

"All done!" Dr. Gibson announced, sliding away from the table, pulling off his gloves. "You might experience some discomfort, from the insertion of the IUD, but other then that, you should have no real side effects. Do you want to wait for your test results, or do you want us to call you?"
Kitty looked at her. "Brooklyn?"

"I want to go." She whispered, sniffing. She pulled her legs from the stirrups, and rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up. "I just want to go."

"Okay, we can go." Kitty assured, turning to face the doctor, not letting Brooklyn's hand go. "Just call me, when you get the results."

"I will do so, Mrs. Marino." Dr. Gibson stood up and began gathering his things. "For what it's worth, Brooklyn? You were very brave, today. You should be proud of yourself."

"Thank you." She whispered in response.

Kitty helped her dress, after he left. They walked out of the doctor's office, and to the parking garage. Brooklyn climbed into the passenger seat, wincing as her body cramped again. Buckling herself in, she leaned her head against the seat, and burst into tears.

Kitty didn't say anything, just took her hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb.

When Brooklyn got herself under control, and was wiping the tears away, sniffling to clear her breathing, Kitty looked at her.

"Do you know what we need?" She asked.

Shaking her head, Brooklyn asked, "What?"

"We need greasy food, and ice cream." Kitty started the car. "What do you say?"

Giving a watery laugh, Brooklyn nodded. "Yeah. I say, let's do it."