The power had been restored to the building by that same night, but it had been so late, the decision to stay the night had been made. Juliana had been tucked into bed, laying between them, while Brooklyn had kept her arms around her sister. He had slept with an arm over the both of them, keeping them as close as he could.

In the morning he had awoken alone, the sounds of Juliana's giggles coming to him. He had smiled, rolled over, and gotten up, yawning as he went into the sitting area attached to the small kitchen. Brooklyn had been cooking breakfast, drinking coffee while her sister chatted with JARVIS. The UI had been giving literal answers to fantastical questions the little girl was coming up with. As he walked in, pausing at the doorway, she had been in the process of asking questions about unicorns.

Brooklyn had sensed him first, that uncanny ability she had to just KNOW when he was in the room making him smile. She had turned, a spatula in one hand, giving him a soft smile, before returning to the frying pan. He came over, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, bared by her top, murmuring a good morning, before going to make his first cup of coffee of the day. He propped his hip against the counter, watching her as he sipped his coffee. She looked at him, giving him another smile. He leaned over, looking into the pan, seeing she was cooking toast with an egg in the hole.

"Eggs in basket." He grinned. "Did you do bacon, as well?"

"In the oven." She nodded, flipping the toast. "I woke up, and couldn't go back to sleep. Then this one," she jerked her head towards the little girl sipping orange juice, "woke up and had to go to the bathroom. Seeing as you were out like a light, snoring your head off, we decided to leave you to it, while we made breakfast."

He hummed, happy that she was at least seeming better. Yesterday, finding her on the bed crying with the letter from Bucky laying next to her, he had climbed behind her, pulling her into his arms, holding her. While he soothed her, he had felt utterly useless. He knew he shouldn't have left her to read the letter alone, but the need to prove to her that she could trust him to listen to her when she said she could handle things on her own had been stronger.

Once she had gotten herself under control, she had wiped at her face, almost angrily, before handing him the letter and excusing herself to the bathroom to freshen up.

The letter had been very unsettling. At first glance, it read like a caring letter from a father to his daughter. But then it descended into a madman's rantings, with parts that were almost obscene, considering the writer and the recipient. At points it read like a letter to a lover. At others it read like an accusation. But anyway you looked at it, it was clear that Bucky's mind was still shattered.

What was worse, was the reading of the letter had seemed to push Brooklyn back in her recovery. After they had returned to the apartment, she had gone on a cleaning spree, even pulling everything out of the cupboards to reorganize everything, while washing every shelf down with bleach water. Every thing she was able to, was washed. He had spent hours going up and down the stairs, attending to the washers and dryers. She had washed the windows, the baseboards, moved almost all the furniture to clean behind and under it, and rearranged the linen closet. She went through Juliana's clothing, finding out what the little girl had out grown, setting the too small clothes aside to be donated. Then she did the same to her own clothing, deciding what to keep and what to donate. He had been leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, keeping an ear out for Juliana while watching Brooklyn pull everything out of the drawers of the dresser.

"You wanna talk about it?" He finally asked her, after feeling like he had allowed her enough time to emote.

"Its as good a time as any to make more room for your clothes in the dresser. I can't keep expecting you to live out of a duffle bag." She responded, instead.

"I haven't minded." he told her. He hadn't. It wasn't the first time he had lived out of a pack. Besides, the benefits of living out of his bag here, outweighed the comforts of having the clothing space at the Tower.

"Still would be better for you, to have room. I'm also going to see about making more room in the closet, too." She kept pulling things out of the drawers. "Besides, do I really need all these clothes? It makes Kitty happy to buy them, but I've gotten by with a lot less."

He went over to the bed, moving a pile of clothing before sitting down. "Just because you have, doesn't mean that you need to. It's okay to own things."

"I know that." She didn't look at him, as she began to sort through a pile of shirts. "There are probably people out there who need this clothing more than I do."

He nodded, watching as she began to set aside more then she seemed to be keeping. "Is there any particular reason you feel like you need to give away most of your clothing?"

"I don't need to keep so many summer clothes, in the dead of winter. Not to mention, by the time summer rolls around again, we might not be here. Papa will come home, and we will move out. Somewhere in the country, maybe. Where it's quiet. Where we can put up a swing set or something for Juliana." She folded another shirt, setting it in what was apparently the give away pile. "It'll be easier to move if I don't have a shit ton of clothes to pack."

Steve sighed, rubbing his face. "Brooklyn, the letter..."
"I think I would like one of those houses you see in the magazines? With the wrap around porch, and the sun room. Some place where I can curl up and read, and just enjoy the sun." She ignored his foray into talking about Bucky's letter. "Maybe a rose garden. Papa always promised me a rose garden. Well, a garden in general. But he would eventually come back to roses. He said his mother liked the smell of them, in the summer."

"When the wild roses were blooming in the alley." He smiled, nodding. "I remember. Bucky and his sisters would pick them, almost daily to bring to her. She would put them in a water glass, and keep them on the table."

Brooklyn turned to look at him, almost as if she was appraising him. "He always said that the scent of roses, the big scent, as if they were in full bloom, reminded him of his mother." She went back to folding clothes. "At least until they wiped that memory from him. Then he didn't talk about his mother any more. But even then, he still liked the smell of roses. Soldier would sometimes pause. Just for a heartbeat, if we passed a rose garden in full bloom. No one ever noticed it. But I did."

He took a deep breath, before trying again. "Brooklyn, we need to talk about the letter."

"I would rather not." She paused in her folding. "I don't think anything will come of discussing it. You should contact Wilson, though. See if there is any information the two of you can get from it, to try to find him."

"The things he wrote about, Brooklyn. Didn't they bother you?" he wanted to know, if there was precedence for the way Bucky had written to her. If he had, at some point in their time, treated her more like a spouse or lover, than a daughter. He was well aware that nothing physical had happened between them. She had indeed been untouched sexually, when Steve had met her. But emotionally, that may not have been the case. He didn't bother responding to the bit about Sam, though. When Brooklyn had gone into the bathroom to freshen up from her crying jag at the Tower, after reading the letter himself, he had taken a picture and sent it to Sam, so the other man could read what Bucky had been writing to Brooklyn.

"My father is not well. He's suffering from... a lot. Least of all whatever damage was done to his memory by the years being held prisoner by HYDRA." She returned to her task, pulling more clothes out of another drawer. "I don't think he even knew what he was writing. That's the sad part. I don't think he meant..."
She paused, and he watched as she took a deep breath. "It's okay to feel-"

"I know!" Brooklyn turned to glare at him slightly. "I know it's okay to feel how ever I feel. I know that. I don't need people constantly telling me that. I just don't see how constantly going over and over the same shit in my head is going to help me. Or my father. I don't understand how its supposed to help me move past it all. All I want, is to push it into a box, and bury it as deep as I can. And for some damn reason, you and Wilson won't let me!"
She pushed herself up to her feet, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt down over her hands before she folded her arm. Taking another deep breath, she shook her head. "Will you go check to see if the laundry is ready? I would like to maybe get all of this done sometime today. And I would really like you to stop nattering at me, and help me."

Feeling a bit stung by her words, he nodded, rolling his jaw before standing up. "I can do that. I'll be right back. Jules is in her room playing."

"I don't need your help, taking care of my sister. I've been doing it since before you deigned to walk into my life, Rogers." She snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"I know. I was just telling you." He raised his hands, trying to keep the peace. Leaving the room, he sighed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. As he went to leave the apartment to go down to the laundry room, he grabbed his phone. Shutting the door behind himself, he took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, before pulling up Sam's number. Holding it to his ear as he jogged down the stairs, he waited while it rang. Sam was quick to answer.

"How's she doing?" Sam asked, in greeting.

"Snappy. Reactive." Steve sighed. "She's been cleaning the apartment, top to bottom, and is now sorting through her clothes to donate. I tried to bring up the letter a couple times, both times she tried to change the focus of the conversation. The third time I pressed she... she kinda just snapped. She cut me off when I tried what you told me, to keep reaffirming her emotions. Basically told me that she didn't understand why we wont let her just box everything up."

"Has she opened the presents he sent?" Sam sighed.

"No." Steve paused at the door to the laundry, leaning against the wall outside of it. "I don't even know what she did with them. We came back to the apartment, and she went right to cleaning. If it's in the apartment, she's intent on making it sparkle and shine. And apparently I'm not helping her enough. I'm down by the laundry room, right now. I don't know how to help her, Sam. I feel like she's trying to pull away. I don't... I don't want her to decide that I'm not hers, anymore."

Sam was silent before Steve heard him sigh lightly. "Steve, man, you know that's not gonna happen. What Bucky wrote to her... a lot of that is pretty heavy stuff. I don't think he ever... she's never mentioned anything like him being inappropriate to her. Rumlow, yes. She was clear about that. But not her dad. It's just as simple as his head is still twisted. Maybe he's misplacing who she is in his life. PTSD can do funny things to thought processes. It also doesn't help that she's been feeling a bit resentful towards him since Christmas morning. Having him be all heavy on her like that... it's not gonna help her work through that."

"I just wish she would let me help her." Steve admitted, rubbing his face. "I just want to hold her, and let her break, so I can help put her back together."

"I know, man." Sam soothed. "I know you do. But she's gotta get there in her own time. She's still holding on, to so much. And I really think that she feels that if she lets herself fully break, there wont be anything left to put back together. A lot of POW's go through that. The idea that no one will ever understand what they have gone through. It's almost harder for her, because she wasn't a traditional prisoner. She was born into it, and there has been a huge adjustment, being on the outside. The fact that she is functioning at all is a goddamned miracle. She's made huge leaps and bounds. And she's got a lot further to go, before she's really gonna be on the road to being better. But you have to be prepared for the setbacks. Things like this, like getting the letters and the packages from her father, are gonna knock her back on her ass for a little bit. But if I know our Queenie, she's gonna bounce back fighting. If only because that's all she's ever known."

Steve had to chuckle at that. "She's a fighter, alright."

"Just be there for her. Support her. Hold her at night, but give her a bit of space if she pushes. Let her breathe. And let her open up to you, on her terms. Don't push." Sam advised. "I'll be up in a day or two, if the weather cooperates. She can go off on me. I'll handle that. You just be her boyfriend. Be the shoulder to lean on, that she needs you to be. Just be her support. Keep her going, that's your job. Nothing else, you got me, Cap? No heroics. Just... just be her man. Be the man that she decided she wanted to own."

"I thought you had been telling her that people couldn't own other people?" Steve grinned, a bit relieved to hear that Sam was coming up to help out.

"Well," Sam chuckled. "I may be changing my mind, when it comes to the two of you. I don't know how else to describe what the two of you have going on, other than ownership."

"Love." Steve clarified. "It's love."

Sam laughed. "I dare you to go upstairs, right now, and tell her that."

"Hell, no." Steve thumped the back of his head against the wall. "I don't want her to head for the hills. She's no where near ready for me to throw that at her. Until she admits how she feels, I'm going to keep my mouth shut. I can't run the risk of rushing her with that. It's too important, to rush."

"I didn't take you for being a coward, Steve." Amusement colored Sam's voice.

He laughed. "No... not a coward. I'm being calculating. I've lost one woman I loved because I dragged my feet, I refuse to lose another because I rushed. I didn't know how much I loved Peggy until the chance was gone. But with Brooklyn... I cant push her, or I will lose her. And that, that I wont survive. I barely held it together for ten days. I can't imagine holding it together for the rest of my life."
Sam was silent, before he breathed a deep breath. "You do realize that Brooklyn is going to have to deal with all of the things your old girlfriend did to her."

Steve groaned. "Let's borrow that trouble another day. For now, let's just get her back to the starting gate again, before she gives up the race." He turned his body so he could look in the window of the laundry room. The dryer was done. "I'll see you in a few days, Sam. I'll make sure the couch is ready for you."

"Only if the two of you promise to keep it down." Sam laughed. "I don't think I can handle another night of listening to the live porn that comes out of that room. How that little girl sleeps through it is a mystery to me."

"I'll get you some ear plugs." He promised. "And Juliana sleeps like a log. When that little girl is out, she's out. Unless she has a nightmare."

"Uh huh. That's why she's convinced the two of you are always fighting over fuzzy socks." Sam snorted. "I'll see you in a few days."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Steve heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his face again, before slipping the phone in his pocket, and opening the door to the laundry room. It would all be okay.

It had to be.

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

Steve unlocked the door to the apartment, juggling the shopping bags, making sure nothing fell. They had been out of milk for a few days, but Brooklyn had been reluctant to leave the apartment since they had come back from the Tower. Besides cleaning the apartment top to bottom, while also sorting through everything she and her sister owned, she had also been a shut in. He had suggested they take advantage of the break from both of them having school to go look at the New Years decorations, but Brooklyn had simply looked at him blankly, and returned to cleaning out the fridge.

In an effort to get some fresh air, and a chance to vocalize his own frustrations, he had offered to go to the store, to replace the old food she was throwing out, and replace any of the already depleted items. She had nodded, bit her lip, and written out a shopping list. Handing it to him, she had asked if he wanted her to give him money, which he quickly shot down. He had leaned over for a kiss, only to be presented with her cheek, which was extremely worrying. She never avoided kissing him. She had enjoyed it, almost since the first time he had done so.

But that had been how things had been since she had read the letter. Their touching had all but become non-existent. She had pulled away, at least physically. They still slept in the same bed, she still welcomed his arms around her, buy beyond that, it was like she had lost interest. And Steve was starting to feel gutted. Not because she had not given or taken sexual advances, but because the one avenue where he knew he had her, where he knew he could make her respond to him, was currently blocked. He was worried that without being able to physically connect with her, the emotional connection might break.

He knew she was in her head. He knew she was going round and round, the words of the letter must be bouncing around in there. He knew this. He did.

But at the same time, for the first time that he could ever remember, he wished Bucky would leave them alone. That his friend would remain silent until they brought him home. If this was how she reacted to this letter, it was no wonder she had been so emotional when she had gotten the package back in August. And he hadn't even been around for her reading the letter with that one. If this was how she was going to react, every time her father reached out to her, he didn't want Bucky to do it, anymore. She became more like the HYDRA agent she and everyone else warned him about, and less like his Babydoll. It was almost like she had shut herself down, emotionally.

He was glad that Sam was going to be there soon. Maybe if she was able to work it out, with someone she trusted to listen to her and not judge her (since apparently that was not him anymore), maybe they would get back to where they had been, and maybe get to where they needed to be.

He was pleasantly surprised to hear Sam's laughter accompanied by Brooklyn's soft chuckles as he opened the door. Grinning at his friend, relief flooding him, he went to put the groceries in the kitchen.

"Hey, Sam." He called, as he walked into the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. "You are early."

"I caught an earlier train." Sam informed him, holding up his coffee cup in greeting. "I was just telling Brooklyn here about Christmas in Louisiana."

"Ah." He responded, not really knowing what to say to that. He began to pull things out of the bags, intent on putting them away.

"I'll put the groceries away." Brooklyn told him. "Why don't you and Sam go down to the bakery, and see if Carmine has any of that cake that Sam likes."

"He's out, right now. But he'll have one ready by three." Steve told her, continuing to put the groceries away. "I already stopped in, on my way up."

"I'll still put the groceries away." She stood up, coming over to try to take things out of his hands.

"Brooklyn, I can do it. You can keep talking with Sam." He gently tugged his hands, intent on continuing his task.

"I said, I will put them away. You don't know how I want them." She ground out through a gritted smile.

"Babydoll, I can figure it out. I'm a reasonably telegenic man." Steve turned to open the cupboards.

"Get the fuck out of my kitchen, Rogers." She ordered, her voice low and threatening. "Now. Out. Go entertain your little friend. I've got too much to do to play house right now."

Stung, he looked at her. She wasn't meeting his eyes, which made panic start to rear it's ugly head. "He's here to talk to you, too, you know."

"I don't know what about." She snorted, trying to wedge herself between him and the counter, pushing against him. "He's your friend. Go play heroes or something. Just leave me to my cleaning."

"You have cleaned this apartment practically until its sparkling." He pointed out, reaching over her head to put the box of crackers away. "I think you can take a break, have a cup of coffee, and talk with Sam."

"I don't want to talk to Wilson. Get the hell out of my kitchen, and leave me alone." She slapped at his arms. "You are about as useful as a bag of bent dicks. I can't reach that, there. Give it to me, so I can put things away, properly. "

"Hey!" He put his hands on her shoulders, backing her out of the kitchen gently. "Stop it. It's okay. I got this. Go talk-"
She began slapping at him, but not hitting. She really wasn't putting any strength into her hits. "Don't tell me what to do, Rogers! I don't need you to hold my hand, every minute of every goddamn day! And no, you don't have this. You would fuck up a wet dream!"

"Alright, that's enough of that." He nodded finally at the end of his patience, bending down and lifting her over her shoulder, ignoring her wiggling and hitting. Placing an arm firmly over her thighs, keeping her held tight, he turned to face Sam. "If you will give us a moment, I think we need to have a talk."

Sam was frowning at them. "Go easy, Steve." He warned.

"I'll go as easy as she makes it." Steve responded, firmly.

"Put me down, Rogers. Right now! Or I swear to God I will butt fuck you with a pineapple!" She cried, slamming her fists down on his shoulder.

He brought the flat of his palm down on her backside. "Watch your mouth. God, you get foul mouthed when you are riled. Where's Juliana?"

"Merlot came over and asked if they could do a girl's day, since I was busy." She replied. "And I will say what ever the fuck I want!"

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. Leaving Sam in the living room, he walked down the hall, and into the bedroom. Tossing her off his shoulder and onto the bed, he shut the door and turned to face her, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"You wanna tell me what's with the damn attitude lately, Babydoll?" He asked taking a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. "I've been trying to be patient, but you are starting to get on my last nerve."

"If you don't like it, you are free to leave." She informed him, sitting up on her arms. "I don't need you. I don't need anyone. God knows, I've been doing just fine on my own, before you decided to grace my life with your presence."

He pushed back the hurt, telling himself she was lashing out. She was just reacting, badly. "I know you did. I know. But I'm here now. Remember? It's you and me."

Brooklyn scoffed. "Yeah, until you get tired of playing house with your best friend's baby girl. How's that gonna work, Rogers? Huh? You honestly think good ole Bucky is just gonna grin, slap you on the shoulder, and say 'yeah, pal! Go ahead, keep plowing my daughter's pussy! Let me know when you get bored, so I can marry her off real quick! Until then, just go ahead, make yourself at home!'?"

"ENOUGH!" he snapped, stepping forward, grabbing the back of her head by her hair. "I've been patient, long enough. I am done with your attitude. It's done, you hear me."
"You do not get to tell me what to do. You can stick your orders and blow it out your barrel." She snapped back, tugging her head, trying to knock him loose.

He held her firm. "No, Babydoll. That's where you are wrong. You don't get to tell me you own me, that I belong to you, and then decide that you have just had enough. It doesn't work like that. You are mine, just as much as I am yours. Remember? I'm not walking out that door, unless I take you with me. Got it? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving. Even if your father walked in that door, right now, and came at me, I would not leave you. It's you and me, got it?"

She was glaring up at him. He waited, but she refused to budge.

He felt his lips pulling away from his teeth. He had been telling the truth. He had tried being nice, being patient for her to snap out of it, to come back to him. And now, now he was done. He was done waiting.

"I asked if you got it." He snarled. "Do you understand?"

"Go fuck a telephone pole, Rogers." She snarled back.

Nodding, he wrapped his free hand around her waist, lifting her up higher on the bed, following with his body, pressing her down onto the mattress. Letting go of her waist, bracing his weight with his elbow, he cuffed her neck with his hand, barely putting any pressure on her. "Listen to me. I've been patient. I've been waiting for you to snap out of this. I have. But I'm done waiting. You are going to smile, and play nice with Sam, and let him help you, or so help me god, I will paddle that ass until you cant sit down. If you want to act like a brat, I will treat you like one. Got me?"

They stared at each other. He realized that neither one was going to back down.

She took a deep breath, before she tightened her jaw and narrowed her eyes. "I am going to crawl up your asshole and butt fuck your soul, Rogers, if you lay a goddamned fucking finger on me."

Steve gave her a short nod. "Alright. So, we are going to do this your way."

Letting go of her hair and her neck, he leveraged himself up, and flipped her over, so she was on her front, beneath him. Tugging her back, until she was on her hands and knees, he reached out and grabbed her hair again. Steve raised himself until he was comfortable beside her, before beginning to tug her leggings and underwear down over her hips. She wiggled, as if trying to get away, when he brought the flat of his palm down over one of her partially exposed buttocks.

Brooklyn froze, trying to turn her head towards him. He allowed it, and she stared at him in shock. He finished pulling down her bottoms when she was staring at him. "What the fu-"

Before the curse word left her mouth, he had already caught the curve of her other cheek with his hand, the slight sting in his palm sending a bit of soothing feelings through him. "I want you to watch that damn mouth of yours. I'm sick and tired of your lip. I've let it go for too long, lately."

She went to pull away, but he held her firm.

"No." He brought his hand down again. "You stay there, until you get it through your head. I'm not going anywhere. I don't know what I have to do, what I have to say, until you believe me. I'm not going to run. There is nothing- NOTHING- out there for me, without you. If you ever fucking suggest that I just leave... No, Babydoll. That's not happening."

He brought down his hand, several times, until he realized he was the one holding up her head. Letting go, he watched as she dropped her head and upper body to the bed, no longer fighting him. In fact, he noticed the shaking of her shoulders, and when pausing, heard her soft crying.

Rubbing her heated backside, he bent over her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he began to soothe her. In the midst of her soft sobs, he heard words slipping out.

"Why....Why...." She sobbed into the bedding.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up into his arms, pressing her against his body. "Oh, Babydoll..."

"Why did he find it so easy...?" She sobbed, reaching up to clutch at his shirt. "He tells me he loves me... and yet he leaves me... And he keeps telling me to be strong... but I'm not Steve.... I'm not strong, not enough to do what he wants me to do.... And no matter what you say, you are gonna be just like him. You are gonna leave, too. Because there is something wrong with me. There has to be."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Babydoll." He cupped the back of her head, pressing his lips to her head. "I'm not going to lie and say that you aren't a little broken. But it's nothing we can't fix. And you have been strong. You have been so fucking strong."

She pulled at his shirt tighter. "I'm not strong enough. Otherwise I would have been strong enough to hold onto him. Or to fight him, when he tried to leave."

Steve sighed, closing his eyes tight. For the second time today, he cursed Bucky and his actions. "Brooklyn, you listen to me, very carefully. You have been just as strong as you have needed to be. He was going to leave, either because he thought it would be easier to protect you, or because he thought you would be better off without him. Either way, this is not on you. It's on him. I've had you in my life for months, he had years. That he was willing to tear you up, to set you free... I can't imagine how he was able to. I can barely spend a few days away from you."

"That's cause you are an idiot. Clearly." She sniffed, turning her head into his chest. "I just... I can't do it anymore. I can't be that, anymore."

"Then don't." He decided, kissing her head. "The next time he sends something, I'll deal with it, if you want me to. That way... that way we don't have to go through this again. I can't handle it, Babydoll. I can't handle not knowing what's going on with you. I can't handle it, when you try to shut me out."

"I was trying to make you leave." She breathed, softly. "I kept thinking... he's gonna do it, eventually. They always do. No one ever just stays... It was better if I just... got it over with. Before you got hurt by me, or... I don't know..."

"Or what?" He pressed, his heart aching at her words. "What are you worried is gonna happen to me? Huh? Not to be mean, Babydoll, but I've survived worse than you."

She snorted, shaking her head against his chest. "I wasn't worried about you. I'm worried about me. I don't think I'll survive if you leave. If something happens to you. I'll... I'll just be done... I might as well find what is left of HYDRA and turn myself back in. There would be no more point in fighting it, anymore. That's what something happening to you... will do to me... And I don't understand why..."

Warmth flooded him. She was in love with him. She had to be... or at least, she was almost there. Just a little longer, he figured, before she realized what it was, and admitted it to him. He could wait, until then. It wouldn't be too long, now.

"That's how it feels, to me, too." He admitted, breathing a bit easier, the pressure around his heart easing up. "I can't imagine a world where you aren't breathing. If something happened to you, if you gave in, if you gave up... I don't know how I would be able to keep moving forward. I might as well just crawl back into the ice, and go back to sleep. Maybe if I did that, my dreams would be filled with you, and I could maybe convince myself I'm still happy."

"The world needs you, though." She pulled away from him, slightly. Well, as much as he was willing to let her, anyway. She reached up to cup his jaw with both hands. "Even if I'm not here, the world will still need Steve Rogers. That's just how it is."

"I'm not the Steve Rogers they need, without Brooklyn Barnes." He told her, lowering his head until he pressed his forehead against hers. "That's where I am, now. I can't do what the world wants me to do, without you waiting at home for me. Everything you feel? I feel it, too. Even imagining a world without you..." He trailed off, feeling his throat go thick. Swallowing hard against the feeling, he pressed forward. "I need you to keep fighting. I need you to not give in. Because I need you. Just you. Okay? Please?"

She remained silent, but her eyes were staring into his, and he tried to show her everything he was feeling. Letting her see the love he was feeling, since he knew she wasn't ready to hear the words from him. She finally took a long deep breath.

"I'll try." She promised, before brushing her fingers under one of his eyes. "It's getting harder, I think. But I'll try."

"I need you to do more than try. I need you to make sure you don't." He closed his eyes, before clearing his throat. Reopening his eyes, he gave her a stern look. "But for right now, I need you to go back out into that living room, and apologize to Sam. He wants nothing more than to help you. And you just told him he wasn't needed. And we both know that's not true. He came up here, this close after Christmas, to help you work through all those feeling that get too big inside you. So, I need you to be my good Babydoll, clean yourself up, and go tell Sam you think you guys should go get a cup of coffee. And then you can sit, and tell him all about the feelings that you are still sorting through. And when you get back, I'll get dinner started, and we can all sit down and have a nice meal. Sound like a plan?"

Brooklyn took another deep breath, wiping at her face, before sniffing. Nodding her head, she swallowed.

He grinned, bending his head down to press a long soft kiss to her lips. "There's my girl."

Steve helped her off the bed, assisting her as she pulled up her leggings. Standing up himself, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "You'll see, Babydoll. It'll get easier, one day. But for right now, we just have to get through the rough patches, together."

She snorted, pushing at him slightly. "You are such an idiot, Steve."

"Yup." he let a huge smile out. "But I'm your idiot. Although, I do have to ask one thing."

Wiping at her face again, she tilted her head back to look at him questioningly. "What's that?"
"Will you please stop threatening to put stuff in my ass? I keep telling you, I'm not interested in that sort of thing." He cocked his head to the side, feeling like he should be pleading. "And really? A pineapple?"

She snorted at him, leaving the bedroom to go into the bathroom to wash up. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head, and went into the living room, where Sam had taken a seat on the couch.

"Hey, Sam, I'm sorry about that." He apologized, offering up a half smile. "She's a bit more even keeled, now."

"How often do you do that?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Do what?" Steve frowned as well, a little taken aback by his friend's seriousness.

"Spank her, as...I don't know.... what ever that was." Sam stood up, folding his arms, a frown still on his normally friendly face.

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his head again. "She.... occasionally. Usually just to bring her attention back around. She gets so caught up in her head, sometimes. A few swats usually takes her out of it."

Sam looked down at the floor, before nodding his head. "And it never occurred to you, that someone who must have had physical abuse as a punishment, where she was living her entire life, might take being spanked the wrong way? You aren't worried she's going to associate you, with those people?"

"No!" Steve shook his head, frowning even more. "She knows I'm not. More than once she's told me she likes it. So, no, I'm not worried about that."

Sam didn't look convinced. "You threw her over your shoulder like a barbarian, took her into the bedroom, spanked her, and she's okay with that?"
Steve gave a heavy sigh, trying to figure out a way to explain it to the other man. "Look, Sam.... She knows.... I've explained to her that I have needs-"
"Oh, so it's about what you need, not her?" Sam cut him off, holding up a hand. "Do you not understand how wrong that is? I mean, I know you are from a different time, where the way women were treated was vastly different, but this... Steve, you have to know this isn't okay."
"I am okay with it, Wilson." Brooklyn called from the opening of the hallway, where she was putting her hair up into a ponytail. "Steve needs to control as much as he can around him. Otherwise he feels like he's going to fall apart. I let him, because I would rather not deal with him going crazy. This household only has enough room for one crazy super soldier, and sorry, but I claim that spot."

Sam shook his head. "Queenie, I'm just not sure you understand what he's doing."

"I do." She nodded, putting her hands on her hips. "At any time, after he put his hands on me, I could have made him stop. I chose to let him do what he needed, to help me get the emotional release I needed. I've been... I've been blocked up, I guess you could say. He gave me the physical, to help me get the emotional, if that makes sense."

Sighing, before giving a groan, Sam looked at her. "Y'all are into some freaky shit, that's all I've got to say. I'm also going to point out that I am not sure this is the healthiest way to deal with your problems, for either one of you."

Brooklyn came over to Steve. While he yearned to pull her in, to hold her close, he knew he had to let her make the first move. Sam needed to see that she was okay with what they did. They needed, unfortunately, to prove to the other man that what they did worked.

Reaching up, she cupped Steve's jaw, pulling his head down, until she could raise up enough to press her lips to his. He sighed into the kiss, happy to have her making the first overtures, for the first time in days. Placing his hands on her hips gently, he pulled her in, content to feel her against him. As she pulled away, he followed, only to have her place a few fingers on his lips, stopping him.

Holding her eyes, he grinned, kissing her fingers, as she smiled. "Well, Wilson, I think it's very safe to assume that nothing the two of us do is healthy. Why should our relationship be any different?"

Hours later, after he had gone to retrieve Juliana from Merlot, the little girl now sporting curls in her hair and new paint on her fingers and toes, Brooklyn and Sam returned.

Brooklyn's eyes were red from crying again, and Sam looked exhausted, but there was a smile on the man's face as he shut the door behind them. Steve, who had been in the kitchen preparing a chicken for dinner, paused, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. Brooklyn came over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest. Setting aside the towel, he wrapped his arms around her, bending his head until he could place his lips in her hair.

"Hey, Babydoll." He whispered, closing his eyes as he inhaled, finally feeling like he could actually relax for the first time in days.

"I'm sorry." She whispered back. "It's not your fault, when I fall apart. It's not your fault when I try to lash out. I need to learn to not take it out on you."

"Hey, hey." He soothed, rubbing her back. "I know that. I know, okay. And while I don't like it when you shut down on me, I understand. Okay? I've been there. But you need to tell me, that's all. If you can tell me, we can work it out, better then me being forced to give you a few swats."

"I don't mind that part." She admitted, sighing. "I like that part. I don't like the fact that I make you feel like you are... whatever it is I make you feel."

"Oh, Babydoll." He grinned. "That's okay too. I want the good and the bad. All of you. Okay?"

She nodded, sighing again, giving him a hard squeeze, before starting to pull away. "What's for dinner?"

Steve grinned, pressing a kiss to her head before she fully retreated. "Rosemary chicken stuffed with onions and carrots. Sounds good?"

"Sounds good." She confirmed. "Sam and I picked up the lemon cream cake from Carmine."

"well, at least Sam will be happy. I'm also gonna do up some rice." he told her as she let go of him. "Jules wants to show you her new nail polish."

Juliana, who was playing with play-doh at the kitchen table (after Steve had put down some of the plastic wrap to protect the table itself), had been watching the exchange carefully. She was now smiling and waving at Sam, who came over to put the cake on the counter. Sam went over to sit next to Juliana and the little girl began to show him what she was making.

Brooklyn leaned up to press a small kiss to the underside of his chin, before going over to join Sam and Juliana. Steve watched the three of them for a moment before going back to the chicken.

It was going to be okay.

He was sure of it.

A/N: So! Sunday post accomplished! I love it when I can do what I plan. Let's see if i can get another chapter out before my next day off. Wouldn't that be nice? As always, vote and comment!