The scent of impending death and urine clung to the air. Nurses and Aides bustled about, going from room to room. Despite the well kept appearance, the assisted living home was really just a mausoleum for the walking dead and dying. It was a place where the elderly were put, when their families either couldn't take care of them, or worse didn't care to even try. Thrown away, left to marinate in their own waste, before their weak hearts finally gave up.

As he had walked past the open doors, more than once he heard someone crying, or the beeping of machines trying to keep the inevitable away. Steve was uncomfortable, in the sense that he was well aware that if he had not gone into the ice, back in forty five, that he might have well been occupying one of those beds right now. Instead, Peggy Carter was.

Even now, leaning against the wall next to Peggy's room, waiting for the nurse to leave and allow him in, he wondered how long before he was a resident. And how long after that, before he drew his last breath. Who would visit him, he wondered? As it was now, he didn't have any family, his friend count was low; even those friends might not survive him. Was he destined to be alone when he finally left this world?

Brooklyn passed through is mind, for a moment, before he pushed her away. He didn't want to take her in with him, when he confronted Peggy. If he did, he knew he would be too emotional about the subject to keep his temper. The last thing he wanted to do was be banned from the place, if he went on a rage.

But she still remained, at the edges of his thoughts. If he was able to bring her back into his life, there was a chance for a future. A family. Children. A legacy.

The image of Brooklyn, round and glowing, pregnant with his child flashed, causing a yearning in him that was even more difficult to push away, but he did. That future was in jeopardy and he couldn't focus on it right now, not until he had his answers.

The nurse left, nodding at him politely as she removed her rubber gloves, squeaking down the hall in her hideous pink holed duck shoes. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, waiting for Peggy's soft call for him to enter.

She was sitting in one of the arm chairs, today, a plush blanket thrown over her lap. Her wrinkled face cracked into a wide grin, her eyes bright and clear as she greeted him, her voice tender and loving.

He automatically grinned back, taking the seat across from her, as she indicated.

"To what do I owe this surprise visit? I thought you were up in New York, working with Howard's son." She shifted the blanket with her thin liver spotted hands.

Steve decided to just dive into it. Peggy would see through him if he tried to dance around the issues. "I had some questions about some things that happened, in SHIELD, while you were the director."

"What things?" She cocked her head in question, her eyes going wary.

"Just some rumors we uncovered. About someone that used to be tied to SHEILD." He swallowed. "The White Queen."

Peggy looked away, towards the window, her jaw flexing. Finally she looked back at him, her eyes sad and ashamed. "I told you we mucked things up. It was a different time. Different enemies, then during the War. Every one of them hidden in the dark. We had to use every weapon at our disposal."

Steve felt his mouth go dry. "When did you first meet her?"

"Oh, not long after we brought Zola in. She was his niece, I think. Pretty little girl." She smiled softly. "I was always proud of how resilient she was."

"Did you know what he was doing to her?" Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, staring at her intently, looking for the lies. "Did you know he was experimenting on her?"

"Steve, it was a different time. Howard and Zola were working on the tesseract, and trying to recreate Erskine's formula. Zola assured us, that if she was successful, he would be able to recreate it completely." She shrugged. "We all agreed it was a small price to pay, for the safety of the world. Phillips was especially keen on it. He was the one who originally pushed for the tests."

"And you just went along with it. An innocent child?" He felt his stomach roiling. Oh, God. Brooklyn hadn't been lying to him. "You encouraged it?"

"You don't understand!" She snapped. "Our enemies were already ahead of us! They had already started to piece the formula together! Russia had already started human trials, as soon as the war ended. We needed to catch up, prepare ourselves! Zola promised us, that she was not in any pain!"

"Not in any... Peggy! I can tell you from personal experience, that it is extremely painful, going through the process. And a child..." He rubbed his face. "So how did you go from just allowing her to be tested on, to using her as your personal errand girl?"

Peggy heaved a sigh. "Zola claimed he never found out how she accepted the formula, as it was. And by that time, Howard had had enough. He said that the poor girl was going through hell, when he saw her. I kept telling him, it would be fine, she was surviving. Howard gave the ultimatum. Either we shut down the human trials, until he was able to isolate the formula better, or he would leave SHIELD. So we shut down the human trials. Zola sent her to a private school, one better suited for her needs. He also made sure she was being trained. When the Cold War started, we needed someone who would be able to do missions, and survive. I remembered how often you made it through situations that would have killed a normal soldier, so I asked Zola if she would be willing to join SHIELD."

"Except she didn't join SHIELD. She was a HYDRA asset." Steve stood up, turning to face the window, feeling like he was going to vomit. Planting his hands on the windowsill, he hung his head, eyes closed. "She was an unwilling HYDRA asset. And you used her like a weapon."

"It was a war, Steve." Peggy huffed. "I know this may seem difficult for you to understand, but it was a war like one that had never been fought before. We needed someone who could move in the shadows, where our enemies were. And she was very good at that."

"Is that how you justified it? Using a prisoner to do your dirty work?" He couldn't even look at Peggy. This was not the woman he had fallen in love with. He didn't know this woman, at all.

"Oh, stop being so damn dramatic." She scoffed. "At any point she could have walked away. In fact, she did, eventually. Finished a mission, and just disappeared into thin air. I always assumed she received some sort of wound or damage during that last mission, and went off somewhere to die. So I sank her files, and wrote her off as a loss. It was a real loss, too. She was amazing, in how well she preformed."

"She was a child!" he snapped, turning to face her. Her tone had finally gotten to him, as if Brooklyn was just a broken weapon she had to put aside because it had lost its use. "A child, and you abused her, and let that monster use her for your experiments! Did you even try to look for her, after? Hell, did you even try talking to her, during all that time of you sending her out on missions that might've killed her?"

"She didn't speak English, and my Russian was always rusty." she waved her hand. "But I got the message across well enough. Queen did her job, very satisfactory, if I recall."

"A spy that didn't speak English." He felt like he had fallen down a rabbit hole, doing deeper and deeper into wonderland. Everything was topsy turvy, nothing made sense. "How the hell did you let that one slip past you?"

"Zola said it was because..." She looked away, her face scrunching up. "German, she spoke German. And Russian."

Steve stared at her. "You didn't even ask her, did you."

"It didn't matter, Steve!" She rolled her eyes. "She was just an asset."

"What about the Winter Soldier?" He had to know. He had to know how deep it went. If Peggy knew about Bucky as well....

She snorted. "I sent her after him, a few times, when I thought he would slip up. But she never caught him. Disappointing, all that training we were giving her, and she couldn't complete that mission."

He shook his head slowly. "Did you know who he was?"

"I didn't know he was Barnes, until after Howard..." She sighed. "Unfortunate. If I had access to Queen at the time, I would have sent her after him then, to bring him in, alive."

"She wouldnt have done it." He huffed a dry laugh. "Brooklyn never would have brought him in."

"Brooklyn?" Peggy's eyes gleamed with interest. "Is that what she called herself? I wonder why?"

He felt his lips curl, almost in disgust. Even now, Peggy was acting like Brooklyn was an asset, a thing to be used, a weapon to be pointed at her enemies. "Her father named her that."

"She didn't have a father." Peggy waved her hand. "Absurd."

"She did. She does. Bucky is her father." Steve leaned forward a bit, meeting Peggy's eyes. "Bucky, who was experimented on by Zola, had Brooklyn, who was also experimented on by Zola. Only hers was under your funding, your watch, and with your permission."

Peggy's eyes widened. "You know her. You've found her. It isn't just rumors you're here to confirm, its actual facts. Steve, you have to give her to what's left of SHIELD. They can use her to rebuild! With the new technology that they have access to, they can rebuild the programs, insure that the formula is used properly!"

"Like hell." He snarled. "I will never let her be subjected to that treatment, ever again. Even if it takes my last breath, I will protect her from that. SHEILD, or the army, or even God himself can fight me on this. Brooklyn will never go through anything like that again."

"She can't hide away from it, Steve! It's her destiny!" She struggled to push herself forward, the blanket falling off her lap. "She was always meant for the super soldier program! That's what Phillips and I wanted! To make sure there was a viable source of the formula! Just like you, it's locked in her DNA. Zola said that his one male test subject was not as reliable, in passing on the formula in his DNA. Queen was pure, she was a sure shot at it."

He turned his head in disgust. Everything Peggy was saying, everything she was telling him... Christ, Brooklyn had been telling the truth. He had called her a liar. He had called her insane. But she had been telling the truth, all along.

He had lost her, backing the wrong female.

Steve, in that moment, knew that his fight to get her back would be even more difficult.

"Why her, specifically. Why did you choose to use her, even after Zola died? There had to be better options." He asked, drained.

"Something you have never understood, Steve." She closed her eyes. "Men fight wars. Women end them. Because no one ever expects a woman to be the one to do what needs to be done."

She leaned down, hooking her blanket with a finger, bringing it back up to her lap, focusing on tucking it around her legs. Peggy paused, then looked up at him with a smile. "Oh! Steve, you decided to come visit! How nice! Tell me all about what you've been doing with Howard's son?"

Steve sighed, realizing Peggy's mind had slipped again. She would not be answering any more questions about Brooklyn, today. Maybe not ever again. But what she had answered, and said, was enough.

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

Sam stared at him, his eyes wide with shock. "Damn. Just, damn."

"Yeah." Steve took a deep drink of the beer in his hand. "Damn."

Drinking from his own beer, Sam shook his head. "Poor Queenie."

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

"What are you going to do now?" Sam asked, sitting back in his chair.

Steve pursed his lips in thought, as he looked around the kitchen. Sam had been kind enough to offer his spare bedroom while Steve was in town, stating that there was no reason for him to pay for a hotel room, with it also having the added bonus of them going over whatever leads Sam had been able to find in the search for Bucky. The search that might now include Brooklyn and Juliana. Steve was terrified that they had fled to their father's side. If that was the case, it might be easier, and conversely, harder to find them. Brooklyn would take extra care in hiding them, knowing now that Steve and Sam were looking for them. Depending on how comfortable she was, with her father, it might take months, if not years, for them to get a hit. By that time, if there was any warning, Steve knew that Brooklyn would ensure that her father and her disappeared.

But what was he going to do now, with the information that Peggy had given him?

If he knew where Brooklyn was, he would go to her, drop to his knees, and beg her forgiveness. Beg her to take him back, to let him in again, swearing on anything that she would accept to never doubt her again.

"Well, I still have to find her." He began, looking down at his beer bottle. "Then I can take it from there."

"Give her a bit more time, then she should be going home soon." Sam suggested.

"Home?" Steve asked, startled. "What do you mean, she should be going home soon?"

"She's doing something for Marino." Sam shrugged. "she said it might take a few weeks."

"You know how to get a hold of her?" Steve sat up straight, staring at Sam in wonder, and hope.

"No." Sam pointed his bottle at Steve. "I'm not giving you her number. When she wants to reach out to you, she will. Just give me a bit of time. She's still upset with you."

"Sam...." He stopped, considering how to put his feelings into words. "I miss her voice. I miss HER."

"Still doesn't excuse the fact that you called her a liar." Sam drained his beer, getting up to grab another from the fridge, offering Steve one as he was there. Putting it down in front of Steve, he sat back down and shook his head. "First rule of dealing with trauma, the person who is speaking is never lying. They may misunderstand a situation, but they are never lying. Believing the victim is the first rule."

"So I have been informed. Nat was very clear on that." Steve emptied the bottle in his hand, reaching for the new one. "As well as made her opinion on the fact that maybe I don't deserve Brooklyn."

Sam rocked his head, before smirking. "Man, the last thing I knew about the two of you, she was still trying to keep you at arm's length. How the hell did you go from that, to spending the nights with her, then to her pulling a gun on you? I mean, I know you work fast, but that is light speed."

Steve sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't want her to pull away. She gave me an opening, and I took it. I figured, the faster I got under her defenses, the harder it would be for her to push me out. Of course, I didn't expect her to pull a gun on me. And then to disappear. It just happened too fast, that's all. There wasn't enough time to make sure the foundations were strong."

"The foundations were shit." Sam snorted. "You took advantage. And the worst part is you know you did. You cant expect a healthy relationship to begin on an emotional breakdown."

"It wasn't a breakdown, for me. She was letting me in, letting me see the real her. Not the asset, not the dancer, not the daughter, not the sister. I saw the real Brooklyn. The smart, sassy, sweet, Brooklyn. The one that somehow survived all the shit she went through." Steve took a drink. "I saw someone I could build a life with."

"Bullshit."

Steve blinked at Sam in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

"All of that, what you just said, that's bullshit." Sam sat forward, piercing Steve with his gaze. "You didn't see any of that. You saw an easy chance. You told her you wouldn't push her, and yet you did. You told her you would believe her, and you called her a liar. Even now, all you are thinking about, is you. You are sitting here, trying to justify why she should take you back. But you aren't considering the fact that she still has a lot of road to go. A lot of shit to dig through. Yeah, she was letting you in, letting you close, but you don't get to sit there and say the foundations were there. They may have been for you, but they weren't for her. Otherwise she would have just smacked the shit out of you, as opposed to firing a gun at your head."

Steve stared at Sam who took a drink of his beer before continuing.

"It didn't even cross your mind, how easy it was going, did it? It's because you weren't putting in the work. You weren't helping her, you were just distracting her. She wasn't actually dealing with the issues. They were still there. She wasn't facing what she had done, what had been done to her. Do you know, in the time since she kicked your sorry ass out, she's been talking to me. And one thing I have noticed, when ever I bring up her past- She never says a single bad word about Zola. Not one. This is the man who tortured her father, during the war. After, he put that arm on him, helped wipe his memories, made her father hurt her. He did unspeakable things to her, and yet, she won't say one damn bad word about him. Granted it's only been a little over a week, since she started letting me talk to her about it. But like I said, I bring him up, and she makes excuses for him." Sam tapped the table top. "Why do you think that is?"

"Because she was brainwashed." Steve offered, drinking his beer, trying to wet his dry mouth.

"No. Because she saw him as a sort of father figure, my guess. Abuse victims often make apologies for their abusers. As if by doing so, they can take some control over what happened to them. Either through guilt or shame. In Brooklyn's case, I want to go with shame. She was with that man for so long, and even when he got sick, she could have over powered him, gotten out. But she didn't."

"She called him a maniac, then said that at least he was honest about it." Steve mused, thinking.

"Making excuses for her abuser." Sam tapped the table again. "There's more there. But like I said, it's been a little over a week since she's been talking to me."

"There had to be another reason why she didn't ever fight back, especially when she got older." Steve pondered.

"Yeah, that's been bugging me. I mean, we know they were controlling Barnes, using the mental shit and all, and probably by using Queenie against him as well. But why didn't she try to get out? Besides the obvious. She said she stopped believing in their rhetoric a long time ago, but when?" Sam drank from his beer, then set it down. "I think that something happened. Something that made her think that fighting back was more than just a dangerous thing to do."

Steve considered this. Human conditioning was an odd thing. Depending on the person, it took in ways that were difficult to describe, and worse difficult to break. Brooklyn was still feeling some of that conditioning, from her years in HYDRA. Marino's revelation that the White Queen was never far from the surface, as well as she still feeling like she was on a mission, gave a bit of insight into that. Fighting back against captors was a fickle thing. He had seen first hand how a small amount of guards could be used to control a larger population of prisoners. The HYDRA bases usually used POW's to function, which was one of the reasons he had gone so hard on them, when the Commandos and he took them down. And again, when he helped liberate the concentration camps.

He wished he had taken the time to ask the question, why? Why didn't they fight back? They had the numbers.

But the answer was written in history.

They did fight back. There were pockets of resistance, in every camp and ghetto. They used their knowledge of their own people to help. He had heard of more than one uprising within the camps, both POW and concentration. It had to be done in secret, of course. One thing he had read since returning was that a big fear was the people who would turn on you for preferable treatment. At worse, there were people within your group who would be helping your captors.

Brooklyn, who's only real constant contact was her father, would have been leery of trusting anyone else. And even her father was used against her.

In the end, when she realized she had the outside support, with them taking down the Helicarriers, she had fought back, even if it was from inside and with a man she had barely met, could barely trust at the time.

He wondered if it had just been a waiting game, for the most part. She had been waiting for the moment when everything aligned up right so that there would have been minimal damage to her tiny family.

"The perfect storm." He murmured, looking down at the table, not really focusing on it.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"She was waiting for the perfect storm. When the conditions would be right for her to get everyone she cared about out, without risking any of them." Steve nodded. "On top of the fact that she didn't know anything outside HYDRA. She would have been jumping into the dark, not knowing where the landing was. Marcus being well connected on the outside was probably the deciding factor. I cant see her trying to get them all out, without knowing that she was going to have a way to keep them all safe."

"Yeah, today, in this modern age." Sam tilted his head to the side. "But forty years ago? When the tech to track someone wasn't there? She could have gotten her father out, and it would have taken them decades to catch up to them. As long as they kept that arm of his hidden."

"Depending on where they were at the time. And which sibling she had, you have to take that into account." Steve nodded.

"How many did she have? I thought it was just Juliana." Sam leaned back, frowning.

"Four. Juliana is just the last one." Steve sighed. "The other three were... well I don't know what happened to them. She just indicated they were no longer alive."

"Could they have been using the siblings? To help control her? I mean, she's made no mention that they used the same mental controls on her, that they did on her father."

"It's possible." Steve rubbed his face.

The doorbell rang, and Sam stood up. "That'd be the the pizza. I say we table this discussion, until after we eat. There should be a game on. We can eat in the living room."
He got up, walking to the door, Steve following him.

"Why do you even have a table, if all you do is eat in the living room?" Steve questioned.

"Because my mama raised me right." Sam responded. "That, and the fact that women love it when you serve them a home cooked meal on an actual table. It shows them that I am domesticated, and that drives them wild."

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

They ended up watching a baseball game between the Dodgers and the Mets in LA. Steve was still bitter about the Dodgers moving from Brooklyn to LA. But he would be damned if he supported the Yankees. The Mets were a possibility, being out of Queens, but the old rivalry he grew up with kept him firmly in the anti-Yankees camp. It was the principle of the thing.

It was a good game, with the Mets beating the Dodgers by seven, which made Steve consider that supporting the Mets had merit. They had eaten almost all of the three pizzas, Sam shaking his head with a laugh when Steve inhaled more than his share. Steve had just chuckled back, mentioning the high metabolism.

It was later that night, while lying on the bed in Sam's spare bedroom, that Steve finally had a real chance to go through all of the information he had been given that day.

Peggy's justification of her actions regarding Brooklyn was disturbing, reiterating the fact that she was no longer the woman he had fallen in love with back during the war. Even trying to throw General Phillips under the bus, as to the reason they had even allowed Zola to preform human experiments, in the search to unlock the Super Soldier formula was not the Peggy he had known. This almost fanatical woman, who still believed that using Brooklyn was justified in the search to protect the world. That no one, not even when Peggy had thought she was bringing Brooklyn into SHIELD, had asked the younger woman what she wanted, was disturbing. That they had ignored whatever Zola had been doing, to a child... An innocent child...

He had been a fully grown man, albeit one who was massively physically inferior, when he had been asked to take the serum. It had been his choice. Erskine had pointed out the factors, the conditions that he had, not only his health, but his good nature and strong morals were some of the reasons that he had been chosen. But he was pretty sure that if he had refused, he would not have been forced to go through with it.

Bucky and Brooklyn had been violated. First through Bucky being 'bred' to create a second generation soldier, and then through all the tests and experiments that had been subjected to him, while also being mentally manipulated into committing acts of violence. Brooklyn, born with the serum already encoded in her DNA, had been used as a soldier, while also being a viable source for the possibility of resurrecting the formula that now ran through Steve's veins.

Based on that alone, Brooklyn had every reason to hate Steve. The promise that she could be used to recreate another version of him should have been enough for her to despise him.

Peggy, claiming that recreating the formula was Brooklyn's destiny... to hear her fanatic response, the claim that Brooklyn was an asset, and the use of the word pure...

Pure, he had heard the Nazi's use that word, as a justification for the extermination of the Jewish population, as well as those born with defects or undesirable conditions, not to mention the slew of other 'undesirables'. To equate that ideology to Brooklyn, to Bucky, to him...

He rubbed at his chest, heaving a heavy sigh.

When did Peggy cross over? When did she make the jump from seeing the horrors, to allowing similar ones to be perpetrated under her own roof?

Was it a gradual slide, or did she just jump and never look back, trying to justify it by saying it was for the greater good? The idea that using people as weapons, without a concern for their own feelings in the matter...

He thought about how Phillips was going to send him to the military base, alamagordo, in hopes that the scientists would be able to unlock his DNA enough to build the formula, and how if it hadn't been for Senator Brandt, he might have spent the war, and long after, being a scientific specimen. He couldn't imagine spending his days and nights locked up, away from everything and everyone he cared about, while he was poked and prodded, and had his blood and other fluids collected. How invasive would those scientists have been? Would they have cut him open? Reached into him, to pull out bits and pieces of him, to see how much information the could get?

But that was what was done to Brooklyn and Bucky.

The horrors that she must have seen... What had been done to her....

Sam's words, calling all his actions since he had met Brooklyn into question, calling out his selfishness... That was a hard pill to swallow. He didn't see it as such, but there was a ribbon of truth in what Sam was saying. He had taken advantage of her emotional state. He had used it to his advantage to get under her defenses. He was ashamed to admit that he knew what he was doing, while he was doing it.

Because he knew, that if he hadn't pushed her, she would still be holding him at arm's length. She would still be shutting the door in his face at the end of the night. He couldn't go back, to before he knew what it was to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to hear her soft breath in his ear as she slept. He didn't want to.

But he also had to acknowledge that he couldn't go as fast as he wanted. He was five steps ahead of where she was. Or rather, where she had been.

She hadn't run, not really. She was doing something for Marino, which the idea of made Steve snarl. The older man had, Steve thought, made it plain that he wasn't going to use Brooklyn for her abilities. Whatever she was doing for him... If Steve found out she had been used, once again to kill.... If that had come to pass, Steve would make it his new personal mission to burn the Marino family, and everything around them to the ground. The thought he had had a while ago, about burning the world to the ground for Brooklyn might just come to fruition, if Marino had abused his position as Brooklyn's protector. He would kneel at her feet with a box of matches in one hand, and a jerrycan in the other, letting her make the choice. And afterwards, he would stay by her, while she ruled over a world of ashes, like the queen she had been titled. If that was what it took to make her happy.

If that is what it took to stay by her side.

Sam was right though. The foundations for a relationship that Steve thought were there, were shit. She had been shaky from the start, and nothing he had done, not really, had been enough to solidify his place in her life. Things would be different, next time. He would let her do all the leading. Wait, until she opened her heart to him, to move in. He could offer as much comfort as she needed, but he had to remember that just because she sought physical affection in the form of hugs or even kisses, did not mean that she was fully committed to him, yet.

He was going to have to read between the lines, learn the language that was Brooklyn Barnes. Years spent hiding her real thoughts and emotions would work against him, but he was confident, giving his learning curve, that he would be a quick study. He had been too hasty, before, assuming that if he got her settled down with him, that the learning would come after. Instead, he would have to learn beforehand, or else she would slip through his fingers again. This time, perhaps, for good.

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

He sat on the bed, tying his running shoes, Sam leaning against the door jam, watching him.

"You sure you don't want to come for a run?" He asked, standing up.

"Nah, man." Sam shook his head. There was a tightness around his eyes. Sam had sounded stressed during the phone call, and that stress had carried over into his now fully waking hour. "It's too early for me."

Steve nodded. They had been woken up by Sam getting a phone call an hour before, and deciding that trying to go back to sleep was too much of a hassle, Steve had decided to go running, beating both the crowds and the heat. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, turning the night sky gray.

"Besides, no matter how hard I try, I wont be able to keep up with your ass." Sam snarked.

Huffing out a laugh, Steve rubbed the back of his head and made his way to the front door.

"I'll leave the door unlocked. And I'll have coffee ready when you get back." Sam jerked his head towards the kitchen.

"Look at you, all domesticated." Steve joked, opening the door. "Will you meet me at the door with my slippers next?"

"Only if I'm gonna beat you over the head with them." Sam pointed out the door. "Get to running, Rogers."

"Yes, sir!" Steve saluted, shutting the door behind him. He jogged down the front sidewalk of Sam's house, breathing in the cool air of the morning. There was a fresh breeze of the Potomac. As he crossed the street, he automatically checked for traffic, noting that there was a SUV that was parked not far from Sam's house, on the street, that had not been there the night before. No one was visable in the vehicle, so he assumed it was one of Sam's neighbors.

He picked up speed as he began to run, enjoying letting his full speed and strength show. IT had been a while since he had had a good run. In New York, even if he tried to go early enough, there was always someone on the paths. But here, in DC, people tended to not go out on runs until the sun was really coming up. He began to just run, no real path in mind, just trying to avoid people and traffic.

The running helped him push everything out of his head, just leaving the sound of his breathing, the slap of his feet on the ground, and the awareness he was using to avoid cars and fellow joggers as they began to appear.

He had been out running an hour, he would estimate, building up a decent sweat, when he felt his shoe come loose and go flying off his foot. Stopping, he stared at the shoe in confusion, before limping over to pick it up, trying to avoid picking up sharp rocks in his sock. Lifitng the shoe up, he stared in incredulatioin, as he realized the laces on his shoe had snapped, loosening the shoe enough that the force of his pace had made it fly off.

Putting it back on, he turned and began taking a slower jogging pace back to Sam's house.

Sam was going to get a kick out of this, Steve figured.

The sun was just really starting to climb the into the sky when he returned to Sam's house. The black SUV was still parked on the street, and Steve wondered for a bit about it. It was a nicer car than any other in the middle class neighborhood, but it was dusty. Deciding to be a nosey nelly, Steve approached it, looking in through the tinted windows, pausing when he saw the stain on the front seat.

Was that blood?

His hackles rising, he went around the front of the vehicle, trying to see anything else, and came to a full stop when he saw the license plate.

New York.

What the hell?

He put his hand on the hood of the car, cringing at the dirt that covered it. It wasn't hot, but it wasn't cool either. As if the car had been off for some time, but had been running for a while before that.

Steve decided to go back to the house, and call someone, he didn't know who, to report the SUV. As he opened the door, he was met with some... interesting sounds.

"I'm really going to have to get in there. It's going to be painful." Sam was saying, his voice soothing.

There was a female moan, followed by a breathy, "Dammit, Wilson, don't worry about how bad it is, just get in there."

"I'm just saying, I might have to open it up. There isn't a lot of room for me to work with. I cant move."

A sharp feminine squeal, "Oh, my God, Wilson! I thought you said you had done this before!"

"It's been a while, and you aren't exactly helping. Stop moving, and let me do all the work!" Sam grunted. "And stop leaking all over my table, dammit. My mama bought me that."

"Maybe if you went quicker, this wouldnt be so difficult. Stop stalling Wilson, and get to work!" The feminine voice ordered.

But he knew that female voice. It was a voice he had been craving to hear for over a week now.

Brooklyn whined, and Sam sighed. "Look, this would go a lot easier if you stopped wiggling all over the place."

"I suggested we do this in the bedroom, but no, you wanted to do it in the kitchen."

Sam scoffed. "I don't want to have to change the sheets."
What the fuck? Steve thought, What the fuck was going on? He creep-ed around towards the kitchen.

"OW ow ow ow ow! Are you shoving your whole fist in there?"

"Please, its barely in. I thought you big bad assassins weren't bothered by pain." Sam grunted.

"Hurry the fuck up, Wilson! I want to be out of here before Rogers comes back. Stop pussyfooting around and do what I came here for."

Steve burst around the edge of the wall, jealousy rising in him. His vision was bluring at the edges, and he felt his breathing escalate. He was pissed, jealous, furious, and ready to beat the hell out of someone.

What came into his view didn't help.

Brooklyn was laying face down on the table, topless, her face turned away from him, Sam bent over her. One of his hands was pressing down on her shoulder, and Steve couldn't see the other one.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" He boomed, his hands going into fists.

Sam jerked around, causing Brooklyn to cry out. She turned her head around, and glared at Steve.

"Goddammit, Wilson! That fucking hurt! Are you trying to damage me more?" She snarled.

Sam raised his hands, in defense, and that was when Steve noticed the blood. It was covering both of Sam's gloved hands, one of which was holding a long pair of tweezers.

"What the hell are you doing to her!? Why the fuck is she bleeding!?" Steve rushed to the table, reaching out to push the stray hairs out of Brooklyn's sweaty face. "What the absolute fuck is going on!?"

"Language, Rogers." Brooklyn groaned.

"Fuck my language." He responded. "Will someone please tell me what the fuck the two of you are doing?"
"Wilson is trying to get the bullet out of me." Brooklyn responded, pushing up on her elbows to glare at Steve. "Was kind of hoping to get this done before you got back from your run."

"Bullet?" He felt like he had stepped into the middle of a play he didn't know the lines for. "What bullet?"

"The bullet that is in my fucking side, Rogers." She eyed Sam. "Get back to work, Wilson. I would prefer to not heal with a bullet still in me."

Steve took in her appearance as Sam turned back to try and get the bullet out of her. She was covered with dirt, he noticed. Her hair, which had been pulled back into a braid, was falling down, small twigs and leaves caught in the thick tresess. There were small scratches on her cheek bones, and what looked like a bruise forming towards her temple. Deeper bruises were forming on her limbs, and along her back, which was completely exposed.
All in all, she looked like she had been through a fight.

"How the hell did you get shot?" He asked, trying to calm down.

"Well, usually when someone gets shot, it means someone pointed a gun at them and pulled the- MOTHER FUCKING DICK SNOT HELLFIRE, WILSON! It's my body, not a fucking pot roast!" She snarled, as Sam dug into the bleeding wound on her side. "Christ on a cracker jack."

"You know,I've noticed that the angrier you get, the more creative you get with your curses." Sam muttered, focusing on twisting the tweezers into the open wound, searching for the bullet.

Steve rolled his eyes, and made a disgusted sound. Walking over to the sink, he quickly washed his hands, coming back over to grab a pair of gloves from the box on the table. Snapping them on, he shouldered Sam out of the way, and took the tweezers from him.

"Excuse me, what the hell?" Sam asked, as he glared at Steve.

"We used to patch each other up, during the war. Sometimes we were miles from a med tent. Everyone learned how to pop out a bullet, and sew it up." He nodded towards the gauze and tape on the table, next to the glass pie pan full of what he was going to assume was rubbing alcohol, if the bottle next to it was an indication. "might want to prep the bandage and the needle. I'm going to go quick here."

"I asked Wilson to remove the bullet, not you, Rogers." Brooklyn grunted, starting to push up off the table. "Just plug the hole. I'll get to New York and have the doctor look at it."

Steve pushed his hand down her back, between her shoulders, pinning her down on the table. "Shut up. This will go a lot quicker if you just lay there, like a good girl, and let me work."

Brooklyn snarled, "Oh, I am going to beat your ass, Rogers, when this is done."

"At least you'll be talking to me, which is more than you have been doing for almost two weeks." He spread open the wound with one hand, while pressing down. "Sam, do you have anything to flush this with? Its a mess."

Sam, who was watching them, reached over for the rubbing alcohol. "This work?"

Nodding, Steve took the bottle, using his teeth to open the flip cap, before squirting it into the wound. Brooklyn hissed as the alcohol hit her raw flesh. "Sorry, Babydoll." Steve apologized, putting the bottle down. "Going in."

With the mess slightly cleared up, he could see better, and with a few probes of the tweezers, found the bullet. "You gonna tell me why someone shot you?" He asked, as he worked to grab the bullet.

"Because he was a fucking idiot. A fucking idiot im going to put in the ground, after i show him some of my neater tricks with a pair of pliers." She groaned, as Steve began to work the bullet out.

"Fucking idiot or not, he shot you in the back. Cowards do that. Or did you let someone get the better of you?" He taunted.

"Steve..." Sam warned, eyeing him.

"I was trying to stop a shipment of guns, from being sold by the Russians!" She cried as he pulled the bullet free. She slumped against the table, panting, as he put the tweezers and the bullet into the pie pan. Grabbing the needle from shocked Sam, he quickly stitched the wound closed. Making sure the area was clean with a piece of gauze and rubbing alcohol, he taped on the bandage Sam had fashioned.

Stepping back, pulling off the gloves, he raised an eyebrow. "Guns, huh?"

"Yeah, guns." She started to get up, and Steve, realizing she was topless, and thus would expose herself, was quick to push her back down. "What the fuck, Rogers?"

"Where's you shirt?" He asked.

"Uh, it was covered in blood and dirt and shit, so we cut it off." She snapped, looking at Sam. "I think he threw it away, right Wilson?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam responded, meeting Steve's eyes. Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that, at all.

"Why don't you go get her a replacement, Sam." Steve suggested, "I'll keep Brooklyn company while you do."

Sam looked between the two of them, crossing his arms. "Why don't we both go?"

"Oh, for god's sake!" Brooklyn muttered. "It's fine, Wilson. I'll kick his ass if he tries anything."

Sam looked at Steve again, raising an eyebrow. "I don't want to have to hide any bodies when I come back."

Steve nodded, stepping back with his hands raised. "I'm not going to start anything."

Brooklyn snorted, clearly disagreeing with him.

Nodding, Sam turned. "I'll be right back."

As soon as he was out of the room, Brooklyn stood up, crossing her arms across her chest, and turning to face Steve. As much as he wanted to look down, to look at her, he kept his eyes on her face, which was flushed underneath all the dirt.

"What the shit, Rogers?" She snapped.

"You cut me out. You shut me down. You ended us. But you didn't ask if I agreed." He began, only to have her step in.

"Yeah, and do you remember why?" She snarled.

"I was wrong." He blurted out. "I never should have doubted you. Ever. I don't want this, us, to end. I don't want to have a day where I wake up, and I know that I'm not in your life. You have been the best thing that happened to me, since I woke up from the ice. You and Juliana. That little girl means so much to me. And I cannot, will not have her thinking that I don't love her."

"I don't know what the hell you are thinking. I really don't." Brooklyn shook her head.

"I'm thinking that I failed you. I kept asking you to be truthful with me. To tell me the bad things, because I believed I could handle it. And when you finally do, I betrayed you." He wanted so desperately to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms. The fact that they were once again breathing the same air was awesome to him. "I should have stood there, listened. I never should have called you a liar."

"And insane." Brooklyn grimaced.

"Or insane. I never should have let those words pass my lips." He nodded.

Brooklyn scoffed, turning her head. "I don't know what you expect, Rogers. You and me? It meant nothing."

He wouldnt let her lie like that. Not to him, and definitely not to herself. "Brooklyn, look me in the eyes and tell me that. Tell me that the night you asked me to let you touch me meant nothing. Tell me that all those kisses meant nothing. Tell me that the night you dropped your bags, and threw yourself into my arms meant nothing. Tell me that. Look me in the eyes, and tell me that. And maybe I will try to believe you. Maybe I can consider letting you go without a fight."

She kept her eyes off his face, but closed them, taking deep breaths. He could see her schooling her face, and his heart began to crack. She was going to do it. She was going to look him in the face, and deny them any sort of reconciliation. Even if she lied, in this moment, she was going to do it.

As she turned her face back to his, and her eyes began to open, he refused to accept it.

Reaching out, grasping her head, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

She gasped, and he invaded her mouth with his tongue, pushing against hers, tilting her head to make the access easier. He felt her hands grasp at his arms, her body stiff.

Then, like the ice that had once melted around him, she gave way. She softened, leaned into the kiss, and began to run her tongue along his. One of her hands reached up to cup the back of his head, while the other went around his neck. He ran his hands down her neck, cupping one along the curve of it, while the other began to stroke down her bare back, using it to pull her against him. She was pressed against his chest, and he could feel her hard nipples against him. A soft sound left her, as she pressed herself closer, lifting up to meet his advances.

Stroking her waist, he reached to the other side, hoping to grasp her hip, to bring her up, lift her, when his fingers brushed the gauze covering her wound. She cried out into his mouth, and began to push him away. He let her put breathing room between them, but didn't let her escape.

"Rogers..." She breathed, then steadied her voice. "What the fuck?"

"i wasn't going to let you lie, Babydoll." He responded, keeping his voice easy. "Because this does mean something. It means so much. Too much. Too much to let you break us apart."

He could still feel her nipples against him, and kept his eyes on her face. He refused to look down, refused to do so until she had offered that to him, gave him permission. Steve pressed his lips to her temple, and closed his eyes, inhaling her scent.

The soft palate at the back of his throat tingled, and he furrowed his brow, confused.

"Did you change your perfume?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. Plus I'm not wearing any. I was beating up Russian mob people, not on my way to a dance."

A clearing throat took his attention away from the new phenomenon. Sam was standing there, a shirt in his hand, looking uncomfortable.

"This is better then fighting, I guess. But here." He tossed the shirt at them, Steve catching it. "Thought this might make it easier on all of us, if Queenie is covered."

Brooklyn took the shirt, draping it over her front as she stepped away from Steve, who frowned.

He went over to stand by Sam, turning his back to give Brooklyn privacy, making Sam turn as well, when his friend was slow to do so on his own. He heard Brooklyn's amused snort.

"You keep acting like I don't show off my body on a regular basis to perfect strangers, Rogers."

"And I told you, the first time I see you naked, I want it to be just the two of us." He quipped back, smirking.

"Where do I fall in this equation?" Sam asked.

Steve side-eyed him. "Off a bridge, if you aren't careful."

Sam raised his hands in surrender. "Read you loud and clear, Captain."

"As lovely as it has always been with you boys, I need to go. Wilson, thanks for patching me up." Brooklyn shuffled around behind them, and Steve turned to stop her.

"Wait." He held out a hand. "Just... wait. We still need to talk."

She shook her head slowly. "Nope. I think we are good. This is going to be just fine. I have things I have to do, people to kill, kneecaps to break. Oh, and groceries. I think I need to pick up groceries. I'm pretty sure we are out of milk."

"Wait!" he ordered. When she froze, looking at him, he sighed. "Sorry. But the guns? The Russians? Can you please explain?"

She sighed as well, and shook her head. "It's not Avengers business. It's Marino family business."

"Please, Brooklyn. You got shot."

Brooklyn made a frustrated sound. "Fine! The Russians are importing weapons through a private port in Virginia, then they move them up to Jersey, where they split them up and sell them off. They then use the money, we suspect, for things like drug and human trafficing. Stop one, you put a dent in the other. Plus, it also helps curb the Russians from moving into Costa Nostra territory. But the really bad part about it, is that the Russians had agreed, after the whole aliens attacking New York thing, to avoid arms deals. So, they went back on their word. And we are just... making them honest again."

"How'd you end up getting shot?" Sam asked, folding his arms.

"I was supposed to take out some new bloods, to get them wet. I was just to distract the majority of the guards, and I was doing pretty damn well, thank you very much, when a motherfucking new blood took a potshot at me, and got lucky. He got me right where my body armor straps cross. One shot in a million, and he wasn't even trying. He took a few more body shots, but they hit the armor. Then the motherfucker walked away." She rolled her eyes, clearly angry. "Didn't even check the kill with a head shot. Fucking amateur."

Steve wasn't sure how he felt about her reaction. What exactly was she angry about? "I don't suppose you know why he tried to kill you?"

Brooklyn heaved a heavy sigh and pulled a chair out from the table, sitting down. Steve considered this a small win. She was staying put, at least for the moment. "He mentioned Diamonde, and some bullshit threats she claimed I made against her. As if I would give her to the Russians. Although, now it's starting to sound like a viable option. I just told her to keep her damn mouth shut about my father and my sister. I didn't think that was too much to ask. But apparently, her dumb ass has decided to start a war with me."

"is there anyway this can be dealt with, without starting a war?" Steve asked, pulling out a chair across from her, sitting down.

"Oh, so we are just going to ignore the blood and medical supplies on the table? Good to know." Sam began picking up items off the table.

Brooklyn flushed, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry Wilson, let me help."

She made to get up, but Sam waved his hand at her. "Nah. You've been bleeding. You get to sit. He, on the other hand," He pointed at Steve. "Is perfectly capable of getting his ass up and helping."

Steve laughed, nodding his head, and stood up. Reaching out, he began collecting things off the table, going into the attached kitchen to throw things away.

"Maybe you can make our girl, here, something to eat." Sam suggested, as he opened the cupboard under the sink to pull out cleaning supplies. "When was the last time you ate, Queenie?"

She scrunched up her face in thought. "Yesterday morning? I grabbed something on the go, I know that."

Steve made a disapproving sound, without thinking about it, opening the fridge, pulling out last night's pizza. "That's not healthy."

"Healthy is subjective, when you can go weeks without any food, and still kill five men." She cocked her head. "Although, the sleep deprivation is the worst."

He paused, letting her words sink in. "How often did that happen?"

"The food thing? Oh, it was a period during the eighties. The was a period when things were strained for HYDRA, financially, I think, and we were on bare rations. Papa tried to give me his meals, when he could. But I never liked that. It didn't make sense for both of us to go on limited rations." She shrugged. "It was harder when I had a sibling to care for. The siblings were usually the first ones to be cut back, when it came to meals and rations."

Sam met Steve's eyes, and Steve knew what was coming. He put a plate of pizza in to the microwave, heating it up, and let Sam do his work.

"You mention them, but never what happened to them. Do you mind if I ask, what happened to the other siblings, Queenie?" Sam was being calm, as he began to scrub the blood off his table.

Brooklyn was watching him, and shook her head. "I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, but I think it would help us understand, a bit better, about some of your reactions, regarding Juliana, if you shared it with us." Sam continued to clean, not being invasive, but persuasive.

Steve pulled the pizza out of microwave, realizing what Sam was doing. He was easing Brooklyn into talking about the past, by equating it with the present, so the focus wasn't on the past, but actually on how it related to her actions right now. Steve set the pizza down in front of Brooklyn and went back into the kitchen, washing his hands, trying not to crowd her.

"I don't want any of the things that happened to the others, to happen to Juliana. It's my job to make sure of that." She poked at the pizza. "What is this?"

"Pizza." Sam pointed at it. "The place around here does a good slice."
"This is pizza?" Brooklyn sat back. "This doesn't look like the pizza I get, at home."

Steve started laughing. "Brooklyn, I've been having this argument with him for a while now. He doesn't understand New York pizza."

"Why is there so much crust?" She picked up a slice. "There is so much bread!"

"Look, both of you." Sam stated sternly. "Just because you have decided to be pizza snobs, does not mean that it's bad pizza. I didn't see you complaining last night, Steve, when you ate almost two whole pizzas."

He shrugged. "Food is food. Doesn't mean that I don't have preferences."

Sam rolled his eyes at him. Then steering the conversation back to the original discussion. "What don't you want to happen to Juliana?"

Brooklyn sighed, taking a bite. Chewing, she nodded. "It's not bad."

"Queenie." Sam pushed, gently. His voice was soft, accepting. "How can we help you keep Juliana safe, if we don't know what we are keeping her safe from?"

She put the pizza down, looking at him, while she pursed her lips and rested her chin on her hand. Heaving a heavy sigh, she met Sam's eyes. "You have to understand. Most of them... they didn't... come out right. They didn't have the formula encoded into their DNA, like I did. They were.... I guess you would want to use the word weak."

"They were weak." Sam nodded. "But what happened to them?"

"Asset Three was killed during training. An accident, really. She was... seven? I think. It's really hard to tell, unless we ourselves were told. It was hand to hand training, and she took a hit to the temple. She dropped. Just... dropped. By the time I got to her, she was already gone." Brooklyn pushed her plate away. "Papa had named her Rebecca."

"After his sister." Steve murmured. He folded his arms, trying to stem the urge to reach out and hold Brooklyn. Her eyes had that blank stare of someone who was looking inward.

Brooklyn nodded. "Yes. But she didn't have the formula. It didn't come out right. But they decided to train her anyway. I think the plan was to offer her up, or use her somehow. It was all a bit of a blur. She was one of the ones who was only with us for a little bit. Asset four was natural causes. Well, as natural as infection caused by surgical wounds that weren't looked after properly. He didn't get a name. He was dead before they woke us up. I don't think Papa was even aware of him."

She fell silent, reaching out to pick the toppings off the pizza. She didn't look like she was inclined to continue.

"What about Asset Two, Queenie?" Sam reached out, placing a hand gently on her arm. "Can you tell us about them?"

She shook his arm off her hand, standing up, walking into the kitchen, looking out the window above the sink. "I don't want to talk about Asset Two."

"What happened to Asset Two, Queenie?" Sam watched her, Steve noticed, with a sympathetic intensity. "We need to know, so we can help Juliana."

"I don't like to talk about Asset Two." She repeated. "I don't like to remember what happened."

"Did Asset Two have a name, Queenie?" Sam looked over at Steve, shaking his head slightly. Steve realized he had started to take a few steps towards Brooklyn.

She lowered her head, before turning to look at Sam. "Grant. He was Grant. He was my twin."

Sam smiled. "Grant. That's a nice name. Can you tell me what happened to Grant?"

Brooklyn's eyes sharpened, and Steve took a deep breath.

"I killed him."

A/N: HI! I don't usually do this, because I feel like Author's notes break into the story. But I do need feedback. What are you liking, what are you not liking? Is there something that needs to be clarified, or something that seems to be like its being used too much?

How am I doing?

Anything, do not be afraid to let me know!

Thanks!