Rogers grinned widely at her statement. "Any information is helpful." He looked around them and nodded his head. "There's a coffee shop a few blocks that way, we can sit and talk."
Brooklyn shook her head. "Nope. I was serious. I really do have to get home."

"What- "

Brooklyn cut him off. "And I'm not talking to you." She looked at Wilson. "I have your number. I will text you tomorrow, a time and place. Leave THAT" She pointed at Rogers. "At home. You or I don't talk."

"We can always take you in, see what charges the government would like to press against you." Rogers folded his arms across his chest, looking down at her.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't charges you were pressing against me, earlier, Rogers."

There was a beat of silence, before Wilson burst out laughing. Rogers stared at her, wide eyed. She felt the blush on her cheeks

She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. No, I do. I'm tired. And I want to go home. So, like I said. Wilson, I will text you tomorrow."

Brooklyn turned on her heel to walk away, only to be interrupted by Rogers. "Look, I may have questions as well. It would be better if I came along as well."
She heaved a sigh and turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips. "I said no. I think it's better if you and I," She waved one hand between them, "Did not have any more contact."

"that's not gonna work for me." He stepped closer. She knew what he was doing.

Narrowing her eyes, she stepped closer to him, and poked him in his chest. "And I am telling you, I don't care! It's not about what works for you, its about what works for me. And I say, Wilson, or no one."

He grabbed her arm. "I'm not going to let you- "He stopped, his eyes wide.

"Hey, okay, you two." Wilson tried to pull them apart. He stopped when her realized where Brooklyn's other hand was.

Tucked between Rodger's legs, with her knife in her hand.

She pulled it up tighter between his legs. "Don't ever touch me again, unless I allow it."

There was a challenge in his eyes, as his breathing deepened. "that's not what you said earlier tonight."

Brooklyn felt something, deep inside her, respond to his challenge. But instead of it telling her to fight, it was trying to tell her to surrender. She fought it off. She was her father's daughter, and no longer would she allow a man to have her surrender. "It was a onetime offer, Rogers. And you turned it down. Consider it expired."

Rogers was pulled away by Wilson, who looked at Brooklyn. "Give us a minute."
She sneered. "I'm counting."

They went a few feet away, where it looked like they were arguing in whispers. Rogers clearly didn't like what Wilson was saying. Hands on his hips, face pulled, and teeth bared, he listened to Wilson who was gesturing between the two of them and Brooklyn. Finally, he nodded, and stalked back to her.

"Tomorrow, you meet Sam." He inhaled and let the breath out on a growl. "Don't run."

"Or what?" She challenged.

Rogers clearly didn't like that. He leaned down, practically touching his nose to hers. "Or I will hunt you down."

Brooklyn wanted to push it. She really did. But she instead took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. Now, can I go?"

"Let us walk you home. Just to make sure you get there safe." Wilson suggested.

She laughed. "That will be a hard pass, Boys." She began walking backwards, keeping her eyes on Rogers. He definitely did not look happy. "Why would you ever think I would let you know where I live?"

He took a few steps towards her, still towering. "Tomorrow." He growled out.

Brooklyn nodded. "Tomorrow."

Turning on her heel, she ran, turning a corner as soon as she could, then turning again. She lost track of where she was for a moment, until she stopped, and ducked into an alley. Breathing hard, she listened, but heard nothing. Straightening, she shifted her messenger bag, and took stock of where she was. Pinpointing her location, she nodded and headed for home.

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

Brooklyn knocked on Marcus's door, rocking on her toes, texting Momo that she was home safe and sound.

On the rest of the way home, she had gone over everything that had happened during her interaction with Rogers and Wilson.

Rogers unnerved her. There was something he was projecting, that she was picking up. It was something she hadn't encountered before. And it settled in her bones and made her wary about having anything else to do with him. If she was perfectly honest, the urge she had felt earlier, to submit to him, scared her. She had spent too long, under the control of a man, to give it up willingly.

She had an instinctive feeling that if she gave Rogers any control over her, he would not give it up without a fight. And he was definitely a fighter.

Marcus opened the door, yawning as he did so. Scratching his arm, he smiled sleepily. "Hey, Queenie. You're a bit later than I expected."

"Yeah, I'll explain in the morning." She shrugged. He looked like he was about to fall over, right where he was standing. Sharing her meeting with Wilson and Rogers could wait until they had both had some sleep. It could keep. "Is she ready to go home?"

Marcus jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "She's out like a light. I went over and grabbed her night gown and let her crash on the couch. You want to leave her, or do you want help moving her?"

Brooklyn thought for a bit. Letting her sister sleep on Marcus's couch wasn't the worst thing she could do. But the oddity of having Rogers and Wilson stalk her from work was enough to want to keep her sister at close quarters. "I'll grab her. Do you want to open my apartment door for us?"

Marcus nodded. "Yeah, lemme grab my keys."
He moved aside to let her in his apartment. Juliana was curled up on the couch, a throw covering her. Brooklyn smiled and picked her up, cradling her little body against her own.

"She give you any trouble?" Brooklyn whispered, as she went into the hall, waiting for Marcus to open the door.

"She dropped right off, after changing into her nightgown." He whispered back. "Mrs. De Luca said they were working on her Italian."

Smiling, Brooklyn entered her apartment, making her way to Juliana's room. "I honestly think Mrs. De Luca will not rest until she makes us both good Italian girls."

Marcus followed, watching as Brooklyn laid Juliana on her bed, pulling the blankets over her. "Just wait until she decides you need a good Italian husband."

"Not gonna happen. I can't risk bringing anyone into this mess, Marcus, you know that." She ran a hand over Juliana's hair. "It wouldn't be right to make someone live with how unpredictable our lives might become. The fact that we might have to disappear at a moment's notice. And it definitely wouldn't be fair to anyone, with the fact that if our father walked through that door, right now, I would drop everything to help him, or do what he asked."

Marcus shook his head. "The right man wouldn't care. He would be supportive of you, no matter what."

She closed Juliana's door, leaving it open a crack. Facing Marcus, she smiled wryly. "Find me that man, then. And I might consider it."

Marcus threw his hands in the air. Walking to the front door, he turned and pointed at her. "One day you will find him, Queenie. He's gonna fall in your lap, mark my words. He's going to fall in your lap, and you will change your mind about everything."

"Yeah, yeah. You still up for watching Juliana tomorrow while I go to the spa?" she took off her messenger bag, setting it on the couch, before going over to the door, ready to lock it behind him.

"Are you kidding? Merlot and I are ready. Merlot is planning their own little spa day, while you are gone. Manicures and pedicures, and hair treatments." He grinned. "Gonna give you back a princess."

"I look forward to it." She smiled. "Goodnight, Marcus. Thank you, again."
"good night, Queenie."

Shutting the door behind Marcus, making sure to lock it, she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Kicking off her shoes, Brooklyn raised her arms above her head and arched her back, feeling something pop. Nodding, she stripped herself of her hoodie, and threw it over the arm of the couch, picking up her messenger bag.

A quick trip to the kitchen, to set up the coffee pot for the next morning, since Juliana enjoyed starting it for Brooklyn. The little girl enjoyed watching the pot fill, and the sounds it made. She had said, it made her feel like she was helping take care of her older sister. Brooklyn smiled, as she ensured her little sister's morning joy.

Padding down the hall, she stopped in the bathroom.

She began to wash her face of the makeup.

Wilson was going to have a list of questions, personally given to him by Rogers. She didn't want to lie to them, as their goal of finding her father was also something she desired. But she didn't feel like it was also wise to give them the one hundred percent unfiltered truth.

How had they found her? She froze, wash cloth in hand. How had they had that picture? Was there a file that Marcus had missed, that day in DC?

They had called her by the name she had introduced herself as, in the club. It could have been a game, but she sensed that if Rogers had known her actual name, he would have used that. He seemed like he was the type. Rogers also didn't seem to know that she was his childhood friend's daughter. That would have been leverage he could have used from the beginning, to make her help him.
So, what information they had on her, was minimal.

Then the goal of the meeting with Sam Wilson tomorrow would be to get what information they did have on her, and her father, while giving them enough information to help them find him, to bring him home.

Hanging the washcloth on the rack, she went into her bedroom, pulling out her night ware, and beginning to change.

Teasing Rogers in the club, even if she hadn't been aware, it was him at the time, had been a mistake. A bit of fun, which she now wished she hadn't. The way he had tried to physically intimidate her, and the way she had wanted to respond, was concerning. In all the stories she had heard about him, since leaving HYDRA (he had come from Brooklyn, and the borough was proud to claim him), not one of them indicated he was inclined to use his strength and size to overpower a woman. He didn't seem, in the stories and tales, to be the type to get off dominating a member of the opposite sex.

But there had been a point, somewhere in the middle of their argument, where her refusal to obey his wishes infuriated him. Almost like he felt she should have submitted to him, right away. As if it was his right for her to do so.
Was it sexual? He certainly had seemed interested in THAT, when he had her up against the wall. That had been fairly obvious. But then again, it wasn't the first time a man had been excited by a fight.

What had she been sensing from him, that made her want to respond? In all her years, with the exception of maybe one or two times, she had never felt the urge to respond to a man dominance. In fact, being under a man's thumb was purely the opposite of what she wanted. Too many years men had made the decisions for her life. And she wasn't inclined to let the good Captain have that power, if she could help it.

But something feminine in her purred at the idea.

Shoving that part of herself into a box, to ignore it further, she put her dirty clothes in the basket, and put her phone on the charger. Reaching into the messenger bag, she pulled out the banking bag, throwing it on the bed, before pulling out the key from the bedside table drawer.

Unlocking the banking bag, she pulled out the wadded bills, as well as the envelope from Wilson and Rogers. It was now a pandora's box. Setting it aside for a moment, she pulled out the safe from under the bed. Brooklyn sorted the cash and did a quick count. Two hundred and fifty, tonight. Not bad. Of course, a fair amount of that had come from the drunk table that had gotten grabby. She would hate to be them in the morning, if their significant others found out how they lost their cash.

Deciding to woman up, she opened the envelope. Inside was a fair amount of cash, as well as a business card. On the card was written, simply, 'thank you, for your attention,' signed by a simple 'SR'. A quick fan of the cash gave her an estimate of two hundred in twenties.

Holding the cash in her hand, she sat down on the bed, staring at it. The implications of the amount were concerning. Was he paying to keep her silent, or was he paying her for the attention she had given him, with the possibility of the desire for more? Maybe it was a pity tip. Some men, who came to the club for various reasons other then getting a thrill of watching partially naked women, tipped out of pity, or the false assumption that the women working had no other options.

One thing was for certain. She couldn't keep the money. It felt dirty. Like he was trying to make a statement that she didn't understand.

Stuffing the cash back in the envelope, she threw it in her messenger bag, intending on giving it to Wilson to return to Rogers, when she met him tomorrow. The rest of her tip money went into the safe, which was locked and stowed beneath the bed. The banking bag went into her messenger bag as well, to be returned to her locker.

Turning off the bedroom light, Brooklyn pulled back the blankets and sheets, and slipped into her bed. She heaved a heavy sigh, and rolled over, tucking the pillow under head, and closing her eyes.

Perhaps she was wrong about Rogers.

But maybe it was just better she kept him as far away from herself, and Juliana, as possible.

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

"He was my best friend. A real scrapper. Never backed down from a fight, even if he knew he couldn't win." Her Papa's voice was soft and soothing, his hand, the warm one, was running up and down her back. The blanket he had covered her with was rough, but it kept her warm, as did his body heat, with her seated on his lap. His back was against the concrete wall, eyes halfway closed. "They turned him down from serving in the army, so many times. Finally, they took him, and they made him big and strong, so he could fight all the bad guys."

"Did he win then, Papa?" She asked, reaching up, her fingers brushing his stubbly jaw.

"He did, Baby Girl. He won all the fights then. But he still remained that kid from Brooklyn that I grew up with." He nuzzled the top of her head, leaving a soft kiss.

"I'm Brooklyn!" she smiled.

"Yeah, you are. My Brooklyn. My Baby Girl."

She smiled and opened her eyes, looking at Juliana, who was brushing her fingers over Brooklyn's cheeks. She smoothed a thumb over the little girl's eyebrow. "What's up, Little One?"

"You're smiling." Her little sister's face had a small frown. "Why?"

Brooklyn inhaled. "I was dreaming of when I was your age, and Papa was telling me stories."

"Good stories?"

"Oh, the best." She pulled her sister into her chest and hugged her. "You have a fun time last night?"

Juliana nodded. "Me and Mrs. De Luca watched Doctor Who. And we ate cake!"

"Cake, huh?" Brooklyn didn't know what Doctor Who was. "Was it good cake?"

"Uh huh! Chocolate with sprinkles!" Her sister sat up. "Time to wake up?"

"If I must." She yawned. "Did you start the coffee?"

"Yup!" Juliana climbed off the bed. "Sesame Street! Breakfast!"

"Aren't you quite demanding, first thing in the morning." Brooklyn sat up and moved the blankets off her legs. "I'll be there in a moment."

She made a quick stop in the bathroom, before going into the kitchen, smiling as she watched her sister engaged with the puppet show. She poured a cup of coffee, and opened the fridge, pulling out the creamer. Adding it to her coffee, she looked over at Juliana.

The stories. Before her father had been broken down, and reprogrammed into Zola's idea of the perfect soldier, he had told her stories about what he did remember. He had told her stories about Rogers. About the small guy from their home neighborhood, who was always getting in over his head, but also had a heart of gold. The Rogers she had met last night, didn't really resemble that man she had been told about as a child.

"Juliana, do you want waffles, or a muffin and fruit?" She asked absently, sipping her coffee.

"Muffin!" Juliana sang, turning briefly to look at Brooklyn. "Muffin! Muffin!"

"I got it! Muffin! Yes." Brooklyn laughed. "Give me a moment."

She began to prepare her sister's breakfast, peeling an orange and breaking it apart.

She would give the money to Wilson, when she met with him today, she decided. And she would send her thanks, but also press how she felt that the tip was wholly unnecessary. She would also use that time with Wilson to try to figure out what they knew about her father.

Placing the plate of food on the counter, she called out, "Breakfast!" to her sister, while leaning against the counter to eat her own muffin. Brooklyn really needed to learn how to cook. She couldn't raise Juliana completely on premade food, and the kindness of the neighbors. At least at the school she was guaranteed a hot meal, every day. But Brooklyn would still feel more comfortable knowing how to feed her sister properly.

Juliana made quick work of the food on the plate, holding it out to her sister when she was done, still chewing an orange slice, her cheeks puffed out.

Tapping her fingers on the counter, Brooklyn looked at her, with one eyebrow raised. "Finish what's in your mouth, before you claim you are done."

Juliana chewed faster, finally swallowing her mouthful. "Done."

Sighing, she took the plate from her. "I don't have the energy today."

Juliana shrugged and raced off to continue to watch her show. Brooklyn watched her, finishing off her cup of coffee before making another. "Jules, I need to go talk to Marcus. You'll be okay for a moment, right? I'll be just across the hall."
"Yup!" The little girl barely looked at her. "I good."

Brooklyn nodded, and taking her cup with her, she went out the door to knock on Marcus's door. She waited, sipping her coffee, until the door opened, Merlot glaring at her.

"It's eight am, gurl. This better be important."

"I just need to talk to Marcus for a bit." Brooklyn sipped her coffee.

"Bitch, if you better have more, or I am going to stab you with my knock off Jimmy Choo." Merlot crossed his arms, his acrylic nails gripping his silk robe.

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Almost a full pot in my apartment. Knock yourself out."

Merlot and Brooklyn switched positions. Smiling at the man, she went deeper into the apartment, heading for the bedroom. Marcus was passed out on the bed, his head half under a pillow. Brooklyn stood there for a moment, before reaching over and picking up the water bottle on the bedside table. After opening it, she smiled, and dumped the contents on Marcus.

He jerked away, startled. "What the hell!?" Marcus looked at Brooklyn in confusion. "What the hell was that, Queenie?"

"They wouldn't be able to find us, you said. The only way to trace us would be to the club, you said. Nothing to worry about, you said." She crossed one arm over her chest. "Somehow they had a picture of me. So, when they came into the club last night, after you left, they knew I knew something. And I'm willing to guess the only reason they came to the club was because the webpage was removed. They must have thought we had found my father."

He stared at her, mouth hanging open. "What?"

"Wilson, and Rogers. At the club, last night." She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sheer dumb luck had them sitting at one of my tables."
"Did you have Momo kick them out? Ballsy of them to decide to come at you, while in the club." He rubbed his face.

"They didn't decide to try to ask their questions until AFTER I left the club, on my way home."

"What the fuck?" He shook his head. "Why didn't you say anything when you picked up Juliana?"

"I was still running it all over in my head. And we were both too tired to make sane decisions." She shrugged. "Thought it could wait till morning."

"What did you tell them?"
"They didn't really know who I was. They just had a picture of my father and I together. So, they made the correct assumption that we knew each other. I wasn't going to expand their knowledge into my personal information. But Rogers was pretty determined to get answers out of me. It was only because I told them I would meet with Wilson later today, to talk, that they backed off. Or rather, Rogers backed off." She looked down at her coffee cup. "there's something about Rogers. I can't put my finger on it. I don't think I want to be around him again."

"Well, the fact that he's literally a walking billboard for American military culture probably doesn't help." Marcus stood up and stretched. "I mean, think about it, you were raised by HYDRA, which was Roger's number one enemy back in the forties. I can't imagine that they were telling you good things about him. Is it true he's s handsome as a Greek god?"

"I don't know. I mean, he has very pleasing features." She took a sip of her coffee. "How does one gage if someone is handsome?"

Marcus stared at her, then squinted. "People's attractiveness doesn't register to you?"

She shrugged. "It hasn't mattered, before."

"You can't tell if captain America is handsome. Queenie, that's almost bordering on a crime against humanity." He sat down next to her. "How do you gage who you want to sleep with?"

"I don't. I haven't. It wasn't allowed. I mean, Rumlow made it clear he wanted to, and was really pushy about it." Brooklyn finished off her coffee. "But it wouldn't have been allowed."
"How was it not allowed?"

"My ability to provide the next generation of Winter Soldiers was paramount. There could be no risk of that gene being corrupted by inferior DNA." She recited, having heard it many times since she was a child. "In my womb lies the hope of HYDRA, and therefore it is not my place to decide who is allowed to impregnate it."

"Okay, that is bullshit." He stood up and reached out a hand to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he stared into her eyes. "I want you to listen to me. You have every right to decide who is allowed to have access to your body, and who is not. If you want to sleep with every person between here and the Jersey state line, go for it. If you decide to remain chaste until the second coming of Christ, then that is your choice. The point being it is YOUR choice. Not HYDRA's."

Brooklyn frowned. "That is body autonomy."

"Yes. Your body, your choice."

She nodded slowly. It would take some time, to work that idea into her head, she knew. Marcus might be right. But it went against everything she had learned. Maybe she would ask Mrs. De Luca, and if the widow agreed, then there was truth to it.

"Just tell me one thing." Marcus gave her a small shake."

"What?"

"Is it true he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of?"
Brooklyn burst into laughter. "I wasn't paying attention to his ass; I was trying to kick it!"

Marcus let go of her and covered his face with his hands. "I finally know someone who has touched Captain America, and she doesn't care what his ass looked like."

"Again, I am not sure what you are using to compare his features to."

"You know your father?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Brooklyn nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.

"Take your father, clean him up a bit, maybe take his hair down a bit, dress him up in Armani. THAT is a man who could have any partner he wanted, on their knees begging for his attention. Now, with that in mind, how does his old war buddy compare?"

She considered the question. Rogers was tall, blonde, with pleasing symmetrical features. His body was strong. "I guess you would say, that yes, Rogers was handsome."

Marcus raised his fists to the sky. "FINALLY! Now, how did you feel, when you were around him?"

"I felt..." Brooklyn pressed a finger to her mouth, trying to put it into words. "I felt...like I should submit to him. Like there was a ball of something, that wanted him to...something. I don't know."

"I'm going to ask a personal question. And I feel like it needs to be asked." He took a deep breath, looking uncomfortable. "Have you ever.... touched yourself?

Brooklyn frowned. "I don't understand the question."

"What I mean is, have you ever touched yourself.... sexually?"

She shook her head. "No. I saw no need."

"But at the club, you act... like you do. Like you know what to do with your body, and how to approach someone you want to... interact with."

"it's a part, like when I was sent out to do a mission. I would gage how best to get what I wanted from someone, and act accordingly." She frowned. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"So, it's all an act. You have never masturbated, or had an orgasm, or, I don't know, felt tingly between your legs?" Marcus frowned.

"I am pretty sure I have felt sexual attraction, before. But I never let it get the better of me. As far as I have seen, sexual attraction to someone can lead to issues. I saw it all the time in HYDRA between agents. Why would I risk opening myself up to another person, in the event that they might use it against me to control me?" She shrugged. "And I never felt the need to touch myself."

Marcus rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Well, maybe you should try and see what happens?"

Brooklyn just stared at him. Then taking a deep breath, she waved a hand. "I'll deal with that later. I just need something form you, when drop off Juliana."
"Oh, good, yes, uncomfortable discussion over." Marcus nodded, grinning. "What do you need?"

"I need Sam Wilsons number, so I can tell him where to meet me."

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

Brooklyn squirmed in her seat from discomfort, checking the time on her phone. Wilson had a few more minutes before the time she had told him. As for the discomfort, that was due of the waxing she had just endured. Working in the club, wearing the outfits she did, called for hair removal of an extreme nature. Eyebrows, armpits, legs, and between her legs. The pain during wasn't so bad, nothing worse than she had endured before, but the aftermath, once the nerves recovered, was unpleasant.

At least her toes and hands looked good. Even she could appreciate a good manicure. There was an elegance, she thought to having her nails all the same length and color. She eschewed the long claws so many of her fellow club workers sported, instead going for a more manageable length. This visit to the salon had left her with uniform French tips, which she was currently lightly tapping against the bowl sized coffee cup in her hands.

On the plate in the middle of the table were several baked items, from the bakery case, a mixed assortment, as she was unsure which would spark Sam Wilson's interest.

She had ended up deciding on a coffee shop near the Avenger's tower. It felt like an olive branch, making it easier for Wilson to get to her with amount of time she had given notice. It also was fair enough away from Carroll Gardens, that she felt there was no worry for an accidental discovery of Juliana. The prices, on the other hand, were atrocious. What was it with Manhattan? That was something she was having a hard time understanding.

Watching the people go by, outside the window from the table she was sitting in, she did have to admire some of the outfits that the women wore. And she did have to admit the amount of rebuilding from the Chitauri attack a few years back was to be commended. One thing was for certain, New Yorkers knew how to get back up after getting knocked down.

She suppressed a small shiver. As much as she hated to admit it, she was rather happy that she and her father had still been in cryo when the attack had happened. She did not think that she would have enjoyed being sent out to help fight aliens. That would be a big no thank you, in her book.

Throat clearing to the side of her made her snap her attention to the dark-skinned man, standing beside her table, drawing her out of her head.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." He smiled, openly.

"I didn't know what to order you, drink wise." She nodded towards the barista. "I can wait."

Wilson gave a short nod and went off to order his drink. Brooklyn sipped from her cup, returning her gaze to the life passing outside the window. He was back, in short order, a simple cup of coffee in his hand.

"So." He started, then paused. "Yeah."

She eyed him. He wasn't exceptionally nervous. There was a calmness he seemed to wear like a comfortable coat. He had come alone, as she had asked. But she still had to wonder....

"Where is Rogers?"

Wilson sighed. "He's a few blocks away, listening in."

Rocking her head on her neck, she pursed her lips. For all intents and purposes, they had followed the letter of her request. And she understood the caution. For all they knew she was an active HYDRA agent. This could have been an elaborate setup to take out Rogers and his friends.

"I'll allow it." She stated, taking another sip from her coffee. "Please feel free to help yourself to the baked goods. I wasn't sure what you would like, so I got an assortment."

Wilson picked out a baked item, and placed it on a napkin, in front of himself. Sipping his coffee, he looked at her.
She waited.

He cleared his throat. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Brooklyn closed her eyes and sipped at her coffee.

Finally, he heaved a sigh. "I don't know how to start this."

Smiling softly, she decided to help him. "You were the one who wanted to ask me questions. I suggest you start." Knowing that Rogers was listening in prodded her to add, "I do have more important things to do today."

"Okay, I have one, one that's mine, not his." He leaned forward. "Why New York?"
"I have a friend, who has family here. They offered their help in getting me on my feet, after I left DC." She looked at him over the edge of her cup. "Plus, there was a personal reason for it. My family originally hailed from here."

Wilson bobbed his head. "You in touch with any of that family?"

"No. My father is, unfortunately not in the picture right now."

"I see." He tilted his head, as if listening to something. Which he was. No doubt Rogers was having a tantrum that they were currently making small talk. "How did you end up with HYDRA?"

"You could say it was the family business. My father was apart of it, before me. I was raised in it." She let the memories blind her. "But in the end, I knew what they were."

"When did you meet Barnes?"

"When I was four." She smiled. "He was very good to me. Better then I had any right for him to be."

Brooklyn put her coffee down. "I want you to understand, and I want Rogers to understand. Barnes' safety is very important to me. I don't want anything else to happen to him. But I do understand where his head is. He feels he is a danger to those he cares about, until he gets himself back in order. His memories are all jumbled. He isn't sure what is real, or what was something that HYDRA did to him. Perhaps it would be better to let him come around at his own pace."

"I don't know if Steve can let that happen." Wilson took a sip of his coffee. "You said you were four. When did you start working alongside him?"

"First mission was when I was sixteen. After that, I was almost exclusively sent out with him. He trained me, after a fashion. One could almost say I was his asset." Brooklyn realized she was toeing the lines of truth, as opposed to the half-truths, or twisted words she had intended. "But like I said, he was good to me."

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" More coffee. "I mean, a good idea of where to look? We had a hit, but when we got it, it was weeks old. He was spotted in DC the day after everything went down."

She blinked. They had been looking for her father, almost as soon as the destruction of HYDRA. "If I had to hazard a guess, I would say someplace where people aren't too plentiful. His mind isn't going to let him trust too many, if any, people right now. He's also going to need a place where they aren't going to ask too many questions. But at the same time, where there isn't a whole lot of trouble."

Wilson grimaced. "That's what we've been thinking."

Picking up her cup, she held his gaze. "I have a few questions for you, if you would be so kind?"

"Go ahead." He took a bite of his pastry.

"How'd you know to follow me last night?"

He sighed. "A friend called in a few favors, to get a hard copy of Barnes' file. There were a few pictures in it. The one Steve showed you last night, it was in there. On the back, it said 'Winter Soldier and White Queen'. So, when we went to the club last night, to give it a look around, and you come up, looking just like your photo, and introduce yourself as 'Queenie', it ticked a few too many boxes to be a coincidence."

"And you came to the club... Why?" She narrowed her eyes. "Hoping to get handsy with a few girls?"

He started laughing. "Oh, man, no. Steve...he doesn't do that. I've been trying to get him back on the horse, with the help of another friend, but, no... he... no."

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay."

"Nah, we were keeping an eye on the webpage, the one I sent the email to. When it disappeared, we got a little suspicious. So, we decided to go on down, and see if we could find anything out. And who walks up to our table? White Queen."

"Stupid dumb luck, then." She frowned. "Months of freedom ruined because of that stupid web page."

"Sorry." He smiled sadly.

"Anything else you want to know?"

Wilson looked at her, and then, grimacing again, tilted his head. "Shut up for a damn minute, Steve." He muttered, before sighing, and taking something out of his ear. Placing it on the table, she realized it was an earpiece.

"Rogers being mouthy?" She joked.

"A bit." He folded his arms on the table, leaning forward on them. "I feel like I need to ask a question, because it seems like all we've come at you with has been about Barnes."

"Go ahead." She kept her face blank.

"What did they do to you?"

She inhaled. Then exhaled slowly. "I was told, from an early age, that I was the future of HYDRA. And I believed it. I believed in what I thought I was going to do. It was enough to endure the pain, the broken bones, the training... all of it seemed worth it, because I believed. It wasn't until I realized... the lies, they had been feeding me... that I... well, I no longer believed. Because if what they had told me was true... they didn't act like it."

"How old were you? When you no longer believed?" His voice was comforting.

"Sixteen. My first mission. Well, the aftermath of my first mission." She turned to face the window. She remembered. "He tried to run. He grabbed me, and he tried to run. He didn't want me to be their weapon. He hoped to get me free. To get us free." Brooklyn looked at Wilson. "It didn't last long. They caught us after a few days. Plus, we didn't get very far. And they punished him... and they punished me... so bad, for running. And all I could think, was if we were supposed to be so important to their greater goal, why would they hurt us that way?"

Brooklyn blinked and tilted her head. "It was after that, that I realized they were never going to let us go, willingly."

Wilson leaned back in his chair. "We looked, last night after meeting you, for your files amongst all those that had been released, after DC. Couldn't find anything."

She nodded. "We grabbed them. We tried to grab Barnes' too. But there was not enough time, after the decryption and before the dump."

"Smart. So, you planned to run, then?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing. When we realized what HYDRA was doing, with Project Insight, we tried to interfere from the inside. But we were too slow. So, in the end, we decided to take the opportunity to run, as soon as Barnes returned."

"Wait." He held up a hand. "You waited for Barnes?"

She nodded.

"Why? Why not just run." He looked around the coffee shop. "You raised the risk of getting caught, by waiting."
Brooklyn cupped the coffee in her hands, feeling the tepid temperature. "Because he never would have left me behind. And I promised to never leave him behind. I made him promise to come back to me. To always return to me, no matter how he did it."

"You really care about him." Wilson nodded.

"I love him." She smiled sadly. "I would do anything to make him safe. And I was not going to leave him, while I ran like a coward. And he did come back."

"But he didn't run with you." Wilson pointed out.

"No, he felt it was safer, for all involved, if we separated. So, he sent me off, and I was brought here. And now I'm just trying to keep my head down and survive." She pointed at the earpiece. "Better put that in, before Rogers has a stroke, and drops dead. As amusing as that might be."

Chuckling, Wilson nodded, picking up the hardware, and putting it back in his ear. He instantly winced, before rolling his eyes. "Yeah, Steve, I got it."
She smiled, finishing her coffee. "Yeah, Steve, he has it."

Wilson sighed. "He wants to come talk to you."