She sipped her coffee, watching the people walk past the steamy window. Everyone had places to be, things to do, and she was just waiting. Waiting for something. Anything. Usually, that was what she was waiting for. She was especially good at waiting. A sniper had to be patient, her father had told her, when he had trained her. You might spend days in one spot, waiting for the perfect shot to line up. You had to endure rain, sun, cold, heat. Wind that tore at you. Ice that sliced through to your marrow. All for that one shot. And that meant waiting.

Sometimes, it felt like she had spent most of her life waiting. Waiting for her father to be returned to her. Waiting for a meal. Waiting for wounds to heal, bones to mend. Waiting for the moment when she would be allowed to go out of whatever facility they had been storing them in. Waiting for the moment when she was given an assignment.

Waiting for the moment when she could escape her captors and topple their regime.

And now, she was waiting for Sam Wilson.

Sighing, she took another sip of her coffee, before checking her phone. Sam was rarely late for their meetings. She could only assume that he had been held up by Steve. They had planned to meet up before Brooklyn and Wilson's meeting. The idea was that the boys were going to go over whatever leads that might have popped up over the week, in regards to finding her father. And it was quite possible that they might have gotten a little friendly, together.
It was good that Steve had friends, outside of the Avengers, in her opinion. Too many work friends meant that there was always conflict of interest. People often had the inability to separate work from personal. She had often saw it, while in the different facilities. Even during her time with SHIELD. That had been the worst. Too often, in the pursuit of mating, personal would drift into professional. It would usually end in there being some sort of conflict, and missions being compromised, due to people not being able to separate the two. Too many people had been killed because of being emotionally compromised. Hell, even she was occasionally emotionally compromised.

The conversation she had messed up, on Friday night was proof of that. She had upset Steve, and hurt him, because she had been too compromised by him, emotionally and physically, to actually pay attention to the words that had been coming out of her mouth. She had been trying, in a very mishandled sort of way, to convince him to be more than, in her opinion, he pretended he was. He could be so more. Too much more, if only he would allow himself to be the man that she believed he was, deep inside. God knows, the things she had seen her father do, before his programming was fully in place, had been amazing. And that had not been Erskine's original serum. Her father had been given one that Zola had been working on, trying to make the one Erskine had created. She was blessed enough to have been born with enough of it in her DNA, to have given her the jump start that was needed to accept the formula, when she was old enough.

Zola had once told her, when she was young, that while she was already dosed, due to the circumstances of her birth, she needed to be fully infused with it, to make sure that she was secure in her place in HYDRA. To make sure that she would be able to pass it on to her possible future children. He had told her, while she was being dosed, one time, that Grant had been the disappointment. He had shown no signs of having the serum encoded into his DNA. That he had rejected the dosing, post birth. Grant had been weak. But he had been smart. He soaked up information like a sponge, and had been able to learn battle plans as quickly as she had learned to read and remember things. Grant had been valuable, in that he would be able to plan the attacks, while she would have been able to survive the execution of them. He would have risen in the ranks of HYDRA, until he could have become one of it's leaders. She would have been the muscle.

She tightened her grip on the ceramic mug, frowning.

She had derailed those plans, when she had chosen to save her father, by sacrificing her twin. Zola had not been pleased, apparently. Because the guards had disobeyed orders. Zola had not wanted Grant and Brooklyn to ever interact, unless it was when they were ready to move forward with HYDRA's grand scheme. Not only had they disobeyed orders, but they had put her into a position that had set HYDRA back decades. By forcing her to choose between her father and her brother, they had made her lower the chances of them ever having the perfect pair, ever again. And god knows, they had tried, for decades after that, to replicate it. To have the brains, along side her brawn.

In the end, well, in the end... it hadn't really mattered. HYDRA was dead, and Steve was determined to see the rest of it buried.

Wilson slid into a seat across from her, sighing, while rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry I'm late."

"Steve keep you busy with tales of how he saved a million people in one day?" She smiled, joking.
"Something like that." Wilson nodded towards the counter. "I'm going to go order a drink. Then we can talk. That okay?"

"Maybe order a bunch of pastries, too?" She suggested. "I saw some apple turn overs. They looked good. Do you want some money to help pay?"
Wilson shook his head, grinning. "Nah. You paid last time. It's my turn."

She nodded, watching as he stood up, walking over to the counter. He began talking to the barista, flirting, really, if his body language and the way the girl blushed and leaned forward. He began pointing to things in the pastry case, and the pretty girl began loading up a tray. Soon, Wilson was walking back, the tray in hand, while the barista, smiling, was making his drink.

Setting the tray down in front of Brooklyn, he picked up a flaky treat, biting into his, grabbing a paper napkin with one hand. Chewing, he nodded, before setting it down on the napkin.

Brooklyn watched him, studying his body language, how he held himself. This was a man who, much like Steve, had spent a fair amount of time in the military. But unlike Steve, he had an open earthiness to him that she could appreciate. Steve still held himself with the poise and posture of a man used to giving and receiving orders. As if at any given moment, he had to be ready. Wilson, despite most likely having more years in the service than Steve, affected an easy posture. A man at ease with the world around him, and his place in it. There was an edge to Wilson, that Brooklyn could appreciate, but at the same time, there was more of a softness, an understanding, than most people would be able to read.
While Steve attempted to affect that ease, it was harder, she imagined, due to the constant self checking he had to do, to keep himself in control. Wilson had no reason to hide who and what he was.

"Definitely try the cheese danish." Wilson suggested, as she reached for one of the apple turn overs. "They are really good."

Brooklyn nodded, adding one of the danishes that Wilson had suggested. As she took a bite of the apple turnover, she appreciated the spices combined with sweetness, the sharp bite of the apple, wrapped in buttery, flaky, folded pastry.

"So, Steve was telling me that you were saying some interesting things, Friday." Wilson began, looking at her with kind eyes.

Sighing, Brooklyn picked up her coffee cup, leaning back in her chair. "Did he? He said that the conversation was over. That we weren't going to discuss it, anymore."

She was also under the impression that the time between Wilson and her was their time, that Steve had promised to not interfere. Which, considering who Steve was, she was not surprised, really, that he had brought up concerns with Wilson.

"Yeah." Wilson nodded, looking down at the danish on the napkin. "He mentioned that, too."

He leaned over, stretching his hand out, placing it on her wrist. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Brooklyn shook her head, but sighed. "No. But I guess I should. I mean... I wasn't trying... well, I was. But it all came out wrong."
"Okay." Wilson smiled. "Let's start there. What were you trying?"

"Do you ever get the feeling that Steve isn't who he should be? That he's holding back?" She asked, sipping her coffee, watching his face.

Wilson frowned slightly, thinking about it. Then shrugging, he offered, "There are times I think I see something that he is hiding. So, yeah, sometimes, I think, 'This guy could do more that he's letting on. If he wasn't very careful, he could tip over into a darkness people don't see.' But the fact that he doesn't, that he holds himself on that edge, makes me respect him, even more. Because it would be so easy for him to just give in. That he won't because he doesn't think its the right thing to do... that's a personal power most men can't ever strive for, let alone acknowledge."
Brooklyn nodded, frowning. "I asked him to let go, Friday. To... join me, in subjugating the world. Or at least to try. Because I sometimes feel like he shackles himself with those morals, when he doesn't have to. He didn't really handle it well. And then I offered to give him children if he agreed."
"Damn." Wilson sighed.

They paused their conversation, as the barista came over with Wilson's drink. He smiled up at the pretty girl. "Thank you, Abby. You have a wonderful day, even if you don't give me a call."

She blushed. "Enjoy your coffee."

He watched her walk away, an appreciative smile on his face, before turning his attention back to Brooklyn. "So. Let me get this straight. You think Steve is shackled, by his morals. So you invited him to help you take over the world... because it was a Friday night? Why?"

"Because he could be so much more, than a mere man. If he just reached out and grabbed it. If he just freed himself, from what society believes he is. What the world sees him as." She sipped her coffee. "I offered to elevate him from a Captain, to a King."

"And you would be his Queen?" Wilson cocked his head. "You know how that sounds, right?"
She sighed. But Wilson didn't let up.

"That sounds like HYDRA, right there. You know better than everyone else. And so you are just going to make choices for them, because of that." He picked up his coffee, blowing gently on it, before taking a sip. "I thought you didn't believe in their rhetoric."

"I don't." She shook her head. "I stopped believing... you know when. But that doesn't mean that maybe, just maybe they may have been right in some regards. The men I saw running HYDRA? They have no right to the world. Because they were and are just as corrupt as the world they tried to change. You can't change it, if you are just as poisoned. But he's not poisoned. And I would like to think that I'm not, either. At the very least, we would even each other out."
"But it's still involving taking over the world." Wilson pointed his coffee cup at her. "That's the part I'm having a hard time getting over."

"It was a moment. When my brain was a little...squiffy. From everything we had been doing, before the conversation." She rubbed her face. "If I had been thinking straight, I most likely never would have even considered starting the conversation."

"But you've been thinking it. Am I right?" he tilted his head, watching her.

"Just because I have...moments, where I consider how much more he could become, if he only... just let go..." She groaned, "Does not mean I think about world domination, all the time."
"Okay, let's move on from that." Wilson suggested. "Why the offer for children? I thought you weren't looking to have children, for a while if ever."

"Spur of the moment. I thought... I thought it would help him choose to go with me." Brooklyn grimaced. "I didn't consider how much it would hurt him. How angry it would make him. It was... the wrong thing to do. Especially to Steve."

Wilson set down his coffee, picking up his danish. "You know why, right? Why that hurt him?"
"Because he wants a family." Brooklyn stated the obvious. "And in offering it to him, like that, with those conditions... it would make him compromise who he is, for what he wants. And that was not fair, or right, to do to him."

"alright. See, that's good." Wilson nodded. "See, you know what you did wrong. But do you still see it as wrong?"

"Of course." She snorted. "I don't have any desire to hurt Steve. I want the exact opposite. It worries me, that I may never want to have children, when he wants them so much. I see how he is with Juliana. And I know he would be a wonderful father. My worry is that it won't be with my children."

"And that's a worry you need to have, a while from now. No one is asking you, or telling you, to make that choice, right now. That's why you decided to have the IUD put in, wasn't it?" Wilson held out a hand, palm down, towards her. "I mean, I thought that was why you wanted to do that. So that you would have time, to get yourself together, before you made a life changing decision like that."

Brooklyn agreed. "That's right."

"Have you expressed your concerns with Steve? Let him know that's how you feel?"
"I try not to think about it." She admitted. "I treat it like a lot of my issues, and I just... ignore it."

Wilson picked up another pastry. "Not the healthiest of habits. We've discussed that."

"I know." She reached for the apple turn over, finishing it. "I've been trying to work on it. But... it's hard. I don't want to seem weak to him. Or to anyone. The last thing I need is the Russians getting wind that the way to make me stop hitting them, is to bring up my worries and issues. Plus, I don't like talking when I'm beating the fuck outta people."

Nodding, Wilson took a bite of one of the turnovers he had picked up. With his mouth full, he asked, "Do you think he will think less of you, because you have fears?"

She smiled at him. He was funny, in his own way. Much like Steve never would have talked with his mouth full, Wilson didn't see a problem with it. He was just being Wilson. "No. But it's a weakness. And weakness needs to be drained, like an infection. Weakness is a poison, that has invaded the world. And I cannot be weak."

"HYDRA." Wilson pointed the pastry at her. "That's HYDRA talking, right there. Steve would never think that you were weak, because you are afraid. Do you think he's weak, when he expresses fear?"

She considered the question. Did she think Steve was weak, when he explained his fears, on Monday? When ever he told her he was worried, did she find it as a flaw, in an otherwise perfect man?

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "No. I don't."

"Then why do you think it makes you weak?" He bit into the turnover.

Brooklyn picked up her coffee, and took a sip. "Because if you are weak, it can be used against you. They always did. Find a weakness, and use it until it was driven out of you. I used to be afraid of being alone. When I was younger. They took my father away, for about three or four months. I had no contact with anyone, other than Zola. They fed me through a slot in a the door. I wasn't given anything to stimulate me. They didn't talk to me, touch me, interact with me. I was left alone. After a while, I grew to accept it. Being alone isn't the worst thing in the world. So my fear left me. I conquered my weakness. And when I proved that, I was rewarded. They returned me to my father's care. I was allowed to interact with the guards again. I was allowed to train again."

Wilson nodded, chewing. "Okay. I want you to think about weakness, this week. If you don't mind. I want you to consider three things, that you think are a weakness in you. Alright?"
She nodded, putting the coffee down. "Okay."

"Anything else happen, this week?" Wilson put down the turnover, bushing his hands, before picking up his coffee and taking a drink.

"I gave Steve my virginity." She watched him closely.

And he didn't disappoint. He choked. Coughing, he reached for a napkin, pressing it to his mouth, eyes watering. When he finally got control of his breathing, he cleared his throat, wiping his eyes.

"Okay." he coughed again, then shook his head. "Okay. So that was unexpected. How did it go?"

Brooklyn smirked at him. "If you don't understand how sex works, Wilson, at your age... I mean, really? Maybe I should give that barista a warning."

"Look," he pointed at her, wiping his eyes again. "you don't get to drop something like that in my lap, and expect me to not ask questions. Were you... I don't know... satisfied, with the results?"

"The results being...?" She bit her lip, looking at him as questioningly as she could, given how much she wanted to burst out laughing at how uncomfortable he was coming across.

"Did you..." He looked around, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Did he make you... you know?"

"Did I cum?" She grinned. "Of course. Steve has made it a policy to never leave me without my having orgasmed, at least once. Usually as often as he can."
"Don't need to know that about Steve." he muttered, leaning back, grabbing his coffee. "I really don't. But okay. I'm glad. Can we move on?"

"Is this line of discussion uncomfortable for you, Wilson?" Brooklyn couldn't help smiling. "I thought you wanted to be supportive of every milestone in my life."

"I do." He nodded, then rubbed the back of his head. "It's just... it's gonna be kinda hard, looking for your Pops, maybe finding him, and then maybe having to inform him about how his best friend is now... sleeping with his little girl."

"Steve has been sleeping with me for over a month, now." She cocked her head at him. "But, since you seem to be... uneasy with this, I'll move on. I met Natasha, this week, as well. And I asked her to go shopping with Kitty and I on Monday."

"See, that's good!" Wilson enthused. "I assume you guys did friendly girl talk, not... how to kill a guy with a bag of marshmallows talk?"

"Marshmallows were not mentioned." She blinked. "She suggested that maybe I could go to school."
"School?" Wilson's eyebrows furrowed. "What brought that on?"

"I was explaining how Steve didn't want me to go back to work at the club. She suggested that maybe going to college, getting a degree might keep me occupied." She shrugged. "I suggested it to Steve as well. Because I told him, after he pissed me off, that I was getting bored, just sitting around. I need to keep busy. And there is only so many times I can clean the apartment, top to bottom, before it becomes and issue."
"alright. That's a good thing."

"Of course, this was after I told him how much it pissed me off when he acted like I didn't' have two brain cells in my head to rub together." She finished her coffee, setting the cup aside. "All because we went shopping at Saks and not at Macy's."

"I don't understand." Wilson chuckled. "Can you expand on that?"

"He called me, asking if he could get me to go with him for lunch, which was a cute idea. But then he found out we were at Saks, and it became a thing. Because Macy's is cheaper. But I figured, if I spent a bit more on the boots and coat, that maybe I would get more than one winter out of them. He sort of let that go, and then made some comment about how he hoped I was getting good boots. So I mouthed off, and hung up on him. I did call him back later in the day, and the first thing out of his mouth was an apology. So I went off on him. And then I explained that I wanted to either go back to work, or something. I mentioned school. He kind of explained some of his feelings, about why he does and says some of the things he does. And while I don't completely agree with them, I let it go. Then I gave him a gift, of sorts. You know he's been going nuts over my safe?"
Wilson nodded, sipping his coffee. "He says you have too much in it. It's making him paranoid."

"Of all the things... really, that's what's making him paranoid? Not the men on the streets he's convinced that are going to make me run away with them? Not the fact that he's constantly worried I'm going to get tired of him? The money... Alright." She rubbed her face. "Anyway, I told him if he could figure out how to get it in a bank, where I still had full access, I would empty out the safe. I figure, its a win-win. My money is safe, he's happy, and I have more room for more money."

"Yeah, I'm not sure that's why he wants the money out of the apartment." Wilson laughed. "Man, you are going to keep him on his toes, one way or another, aren't you?"

She picked up one of the danishes. "Life is boring without a little excitement, here and there."

Laughing, Wilson drained his coffee cup. "You want some more?" He indicated her empty cup. "Mocha, right?"

"If you are offering." She smiled, pushing the cup towards him. "Go flirt with the barista some more."

"I'm going to get her number. Just you watch." He stood up, both mugs in his hand. "I'm feeling lucky, today."

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

Wilson did not, in fact, get the barista's number.

He was bemoaning this fact, while they were heading to Brooklyn's apartment. He blamed her, he said. Because if the barista had not seen him sitting with her for so long, she might not have gotten the idea that they were together. The fact that Brooklyn was slipped a piece of paper with a name and number was something that she kept to herself. She didn't' want to bruise the man's ego more than it already was.

They were in his rental car, stopped at a red light, when her phone went off with the notice of an incoming message. She sighed, digging her phone out of her messenger bag, giving Wilson and apologetic smile, before she felt herself go still, taking a deep breath.

The message was not from Steve, letting her know that he had successfully picked up Juliana from school again, like she had thought. But an unknown number. It had simply an address and a time. But she knew what it was. There was another shipment tonight.

"You okay, Queenie?" Wilson asked, glancing at her, as the light turned green.

"Yeah." She nodded, putting the phone away. "I just have to go out, tonight. You boys think you can keep the apartment from burning down, and get my sister into bed without trouble tonight?"

Wilson nodded, pursing his lips slightly, before rocking his head. "How's that been working out for you?"
"It's been going okay." She looked out the passenger window. "We saved a shipment of twenty three women last time."

"You're doing good things, there." He commented. "Helping to save those women."

She nodded. "It's going to have to come to a head, sooner or later. Either the Russians retaliate, or there will have to be talks."
"Which are you hoping for?" He asked, slowing down as a taxi darted in front of them. "C'mon, man! Use a turn signal!"

Brooklyn sighed. "Talks are the smart thing. If they are willing to talk, it might mean no bloodshed."

"What happens if it becomes a war?" He honked at the taxi, which didn't' want to stay in the lane, but seemed to be trying to straddle two.

She shrugged. "I don't know. According to my rules, I'm not allowed to kill anyone. So, I don't know how helpful I would be in that situation."

"God, I hate the traffic in New York." He grumbled, shifting in his seat. "So, if it goes to war, you're out?"

"Maybe." She sighed. "Then again, I am really good at subterfuge and shock and awe attacks. I can always use my talents to get information out of people. Or, I can just be ready to defend who I need to."
"You know," Wilson began, then cleared his throat. "You know, I've noticed something. You say you want a normal life, but you also like doing what you are doing for the Marinos. You say you want to go to school, but here you are, planning on how you can be useful in the case of a mob war. Have you ever considered that maybe, you are lying to yourself?"
"All the time." She answered. "I wonder about it, about if I really want the mask I wear everyday to be the real one, or if I just miss the power of being who I was raised to be."

He nodded. "At least that's an honest opinion. Have you figured out how to break that to Steve, if you don't want to keep wearing the mask?"

"It won't matter. He is mine. I won't let him go." She shifted the messenger bag on her lap.

Wilson was silent for a moment, then asked, very gently, "You know you can't own people, right? It's kinda a law."
"He is mine. He has agreed to it. Just like I have agreed to be his." Brooklyn cocked her head. "I will not let him go. Not now that I have given myself to him. Not now that I have taken him. This is the commitment I have made to him, and the one he has made to me."

"That's a pretty big commitment, considering you guys have only known each other what, two or three months?" Wilson commented.

How could she explain it, with words? The need for Steve, the obsession she felt for him, which he had admitted to feeling as well, was nothing like she had ever experienced. The fact that just by being in his presence, just being near him, calmed her. It made the storm that raged in her head and in her soul calm. Just having him in her life made her feel as if the rest of it didn't matter. That despite the feeling of disloyalty to her father, if she just had Steve, she didn't need anything or anyone else. She was willing to put up with his over handedness, his demanding attitude, his domination, all of the annoying morals and rules he lived by, if only it meant that he remained hers. Because along with all of it, came the kindness, the gentleness, the feeling of security when he was around. The fact that he cared enough to make sure that she and her sister were well cared for, that she didn't dive into the darkness that constantly chased her at night, was more than enough reason to put up with him. The feeling of need to submit to him, the one she had felt from the first time he touched her in that alley, had never left. But it had evolved. Alongside it was now the need to make him submit in return. Just the touch of his hand was enough to make her knees feel the need to buckle. That she was willing to even bend her self to his will, even if it was in bed, was enough for her to be certain that the commitment she made to him was enough.

It had to be enough.

"He is mine." She simply said in response. "And I am his."

Wilson turned down the street of her apartment. "And he's okay with this?"

"More than, if how he repeats it himself is any indication." Brooklyn prepared her messenger bag, ready to leave the car as soon as Wilson parked. This was the part of their talks that she didn't care for. The last bit, when it felt like everything over the past week had been gone over, suggestions made, future issues highlighted. But this last bit, where it felt like, despite having opened her mind and trauma to him, that they were left to making small talk, well it was almost unbearable. "Steve has had no complaints."

"I can't imagine he would. Beautiful and talented woman claims he belongs to her, and basically falls into his lap? Every man should be so lucky. You have a friend?" He grinned at her, navigating the car into a parking spot. "Maybe one who is a little less... violent? I mean, the type that doesn't threaten to break off your foot into your own ass."
"You aren't ever going to let that go, are you?" She questioned, grinning, as she unhooked her seat belt. "I would like to point out that I had just gotten grabbed by someone I thought maybe took my flirting the wrong way? I was a little uptight? If anything, my threats to do bodily harm to you were your fault."

"Oh, my fault." Wilson turned off the car, unhooking his own seat belt. "I see. It's always my fault."

"You talk shit, you get hit." She snarked, reaching over to punch him gently in the shoulder. "Life lesson learned."

"Yeah, I don't want to take life lessons from you, no offense." he held up a hand. "I feel like they would include things like 'what to do if the person tied to a chair in front of you doesn't want to give up the information you are seeking.' and things like that."
Brooklyn shrugged. "Simple, start with the fingers. It's amazing how quickly a lot of people will start talking once you break a few fingers. Usually it's by the second or third one that they start running their mouth."

"I don't need to know this!" He complained, opening his car door. "This is what I am talking about."

Laughing, Brooklyn climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind her, waiting politely on the sidewalk while Wilson got out his overnight bag. They had discussed him taking the couch tonight, rather then pay for a hotel, or staying in the Tower by himself, as Steve was not inclined to be there, unless he had to be these days. "Did you know, that depending on where you start the drain point, it can take hours for the body to be drained of blood? And that even then, a human will retain consciousness through most of it?"

"See, its stuff like this that I'm not sure I'm meant to know." He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, before locking the door. "On a side note, did you guys get any of that lemon cake from the bakery? Or should I stop in and get some."

"We got you some, Wilson. You don't have to worry about it." She led him to the front door. This wasn't the first time Wilson had visited them, here. The last visit was right after she had agreed to talk to him about things. He had come over, sat down with her, while Steve took Juliana to the grocery store, to hash out how it was going to work out. The week up in New York, the next in DC seemed a compromise that worked for the both of them, for now. They had agreed to reevaluate as things changed. When he had come up, they had gotten some of the lemon cake from Carmine's, and Wilson had fallen in love.

"Steve said he was going to be making stew tonight." She unlocked the door, standing aside to let him go in first. "He hoped that was going to be okay. Did he mention it?"
"Yeah." Wilson waited for her to start up the stairs, before joining her. "He did. I told him it was cool."

She nodded, jogging up the stairs, keys in hand, as she picked out the apartment door key. As soon as they made it to the door, she was already jamming the key in the lock, opening the door and leading the way into the warm apartment.

Brooklyn inhaled the scent of beef and onion, smiling as she spotted Steve and Juliana sitting at the table. He was going through papers, again, always on the search for what she didn't know, while her sister was working on her homework. Kicking off her shoes, toeing them in place along the wall, she hung up her keys on the hook, before lifting the messenger bag over her neck. Setting it on the ground, she walked over to bend down and press a kiss to her sister's head. "Have a good day, Little One?"

"Uh huh! I got two gold stars today!" Her sister beamed up at her. "And one of the moms of the kids in another class was making laughing sounds at Steve when he came to pick me up."

Brooklyn looked at Steve, eyebrow raised. He was frowning at Juliana. "Oh, really. And did he make the same sounds back?"

"No." Juliana shook her head. "He had that smile that he puts on when he is trying to be really nice to people he doesn't like. The one he gives Ms. Crocker."

"Ah." Brooklyn smiled at her. "Yeah, I know that smile. Did you protect him from the woman?"
"I did!" The little girl nodded. "I wrapped my arms around his leg, and asked him if he knew what time you were going to be home. Because I knew how much he liked giving you kisses when you do."

Wilson was chuckling behind her.

"At which point the mother got a very sour look on her face, and left us alone, isn't that right, Sweetheart?" Steve added, standing up. "But she was right about one thing. I do enjoy giving you kisses when you come home."

He came around the table, reaching out to pull her into his arms, sighing as she went into his embrace. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against hers, softly. Then, resting his forehead on hers, he asked gently, "Everything go okay, today?"

"Mhm." She nodded. "I need to go take a shower. And then we have to talk, before dinner."

He pulled back, frowning slightly. "Something happen?"

"I got a message." She left it at that, knowing he was aware of what it meant.

Steve sighed. Then he nodded. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom." She agreed. "I'll meet you there, after I get out of the shower."

"Okay, Babydoll." He pulled away, smoothing her hair out of her face. "It's a date."

She walked to the bedroom, to grab some stuff before getting into the shower, while Steve went to greet Sam, with Juliana chiming in. Deciding on putting on comfortable clothes, most likely due to the stormy weather that was rolling in, again, she grabbed some warm leggings, a tank top, and an oversized sweater. She would put on socks after she had dried a bit more, the feeling of wet socks not high on her list of things she wanted to endure anymore.

Thirty minutes later, she walked out of the bathroom, hearing Steve, Wilson, and Juliana laughing in the living room. Wilson was apparently telling Juliana a tall tale, about a man with a blue ox, swearing up and down that it was true. Juliana kept telling him he was fibbing. And apparently Steve was denying any knowledge, whatsoever.

Brooklyn smiled, rubbing her hair with a towel, soaking up as much of the moisture as possible, going into the bedroom. Taking a seat on the bed, she sighed, waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. She was so damn tired of waiting. Throwing the towel on the floor, she dug her hands into her hair, feeling the noise rising again.

"Hey, Babydoll." Steve's voice was soft and warm, as he came into the bedroom, coming forward to kneel on the ground in front of her. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her in to allow her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Breathe through it. Just breathe through it." He pulled one of her hands down to rest on the center of his chest. "Feel it? It's right there. Just feel it, Babydoll."

She sniffed, nodding. "I feel it."

"Was it a bad day, today?" He asked gently.

"No. Not really." She shook her head. "Just...it seems like... like I don't know."

Why was it so hard to get the words out? Why couldn't she tell him?

"You don't have to, not right now. It's okay." He pulled back, making sure to meet her eyes. "You can take all the time you need."

"Is it too much? Do you feel like I need you, too much?" She asked.

He frowned, before lightly chuckling. "How can you need me too much, Babydoll?"

"That you belong to me, means that I need you. And I'm worried... I'm afraid, that it might be too much for you." She whispered.

"Never." he shook his head. "You can never need me too much. I fact, I would be happiest if you needed me even more."

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling the comfort it gave her, the noises in her head going silent. "Do you need me, like that?"
"More and more, every day. With every breath, I need you." He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "So, like I said, you can never need me too much. Because I am pretty sure I need you just as much, if not more. You make sense of all the madness in my life. I didn't even know it, until I met you. All of the insanity? You and Juliana are this little island of calm and sanity I need, to do what I do. You are the bright light in the world of darkness that I am pushing back. I am so blessed, to have found you in this world. That I even did, is a fucking miracle, to me."

"Language," She breathed, his words making her eyes go wide. How did he believe that about her? "How? I'm insane. My world... it's not legal. It's dark, and it's dirty, and I'm pretty sure not one of the people I work with pay taxes."

"Because despite all of that? You still are taking joy in the little things. Like that crystal dog. You saw it, and it made you happy. So you bought it, and now It's sitting on the window sill in the kitchen. Just ready to catch the light and sparkle." He kept his lips pressed to her temple. "And when you do things like that? When you see the world for the first time, I see it for the first time. I'm able to recapture all of that innocence I somehow lost along the way, just by watching you experience it for the first time. That's how. And that's why. You say you need me too much? Babydoll, I can't breathe sometimes, for how much I need you."

She decided to believe him. "Don't stop needing me. Don't ever stop needing me. Please."
"Never." He breathed. "I will never stop needing you."

They stayed like that, for several heartbeats, multiple mixed breaths. Then he broached the subject that she had retreated the bedroom for. "You got a message?"

"Yeah." She exhaled. "I have to leave after dinner."

He nodded. "I've got the bases covered."

"Okay." Brooklyn lent back from him. "Dinner?"

"Stew." He kissed her, then rocked back onto his feet, reaching out to pull her up. "And Juliana picked out rolls, from Carmine, on our way home from school."

"Oh, I'm sure she was happy about that." Brooklyn smiled. "Did Carmine also try to con you into buying the cookies, again?"

"Nope!" He smiled, so proud of himself. "I stood firm. I looked him right in the eye, and I said, Carmine, I'll take half a dozen."

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

She climbed out of the back of the taxi, two blocks from the meeting point. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked the rest of the way quickly, keeping her head down. When she got to the point, she looked at the door, frowning, before pushing at it. It didn't give.

"What the fuck?" She whispered.

"You Queenie?" A rough voice, heavily New Yorker, spoke behind her.

Turning, she looked at the car, which was quietly idling, the passenger window rolled down, a man of middling age leaning out.

"Yeah." She responded.

"Get in." He ordered, leaning back into the car.

"Who sent you?" She asked, not moving.

"Get in the fucking car. The Boss want's to speak to you." He didn't roll up the window.

Brooklyn stuck her hand in her jacket pocket, feeling the handle of the collapsible baton. She could pop it out, crack the window, and pull him out, demanding answers. He didn't look like any of Mr. Marino's men, that she had ever met. And none of his men ever called him The Boss. It was always Mr. Marino. Or Mr. M.

Taking a deep breath, letting go of the baton, and wrapping her fingers around the panic button. Steve had been enthusiastic when she had suggested she start carrying the panic button, when she left for her escapades. He had been thrilled with the idea that if something happened, she would be able to call for help. He had even assured her that it would be just him, coming. And only to extract her. Emergencies only.

Reaching for the handle of the car door, she paused, then opened it. She slid into the car, looking at the people in the front.

The passenger looked back at her, as if assessing her. "You don't look like much."

"Appearances can be deceiving." She raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

"Huh." He snorted. "Fucking mouthy bitch."

"Yup."

"Shut the fuck up, Dino." The driver ordered. "She's been taking out Russians faster than you can demolish a large Pizza from Tino's."

Brooklyn bit her lip.

"The Boss sent us." the driver told her.

"So you said. I don't understand, though. Mr. Marino usually wants me to meet him in public places." She sat back.

"We didn't say Marino. We said The Boss." The driver met her eyes in the rear view mirror. "Marino's boss."

A/N: I hope everyone is safe. My heart goes out to those affected by the tornadoes. Please, be safe right now. Vote, comment, keep your head up!