Brooklyn froze. "No."

"He promises he will be on his best behavior." Wilson smiled.

"No." She shook her head. "I don't think it's a good idea for the two of us to be in each other's company."

"Look, I respect that. I do, but other than you, he's the only person who knows Barnes. He just wants to go over some things..."

"And he can relay those things to you." She cocked an eyebrow. "This is a big city. I see no reason for the two of us to cross paths again."

Wilson sighed. "Can you at least explain your reasoning? Gimme something to work with."

She laughed. "You don't get it, do you? Even if I hadn't been raised to believe he was the enemy, that he stood against everything I was being raised to uphold, there is still the fact that he is very public. And I do not need public. I am trying to live as much as I can under the radar. I feel Rogers will make that impossible."

"But you are okay with me?" He looked at her skeptically.

Brooklyn shrugged. "You are far enough away from the issue, that you are objective. You aren't emotionally involved, are you?"

"Not really, no. I am because Steve is my friend." He held out a hand. "But you are right, I feel for Barnes, but I'm not really emotionally involved. Bringing him home, making sure he gets the help he needs, is the right thing to do."

She nodded. "And that is why you are an acceptable middleman. You are far enough away from the issue." Brooklyn checked her phone. She realistically could give him a bit more time, before she had to wrap this up, get home, check in with Juliana, and get ready for work.

"Do you have another date?" Wilson joked.

"Just checking my time. I do have a life outside of Rogers' obsession with Barnes." She smiled. "And I don't think I said anything about this being a date, Wilson."

"Well, meeting a beautiful woman, having coffee, talking about a Nazi-run terrorist group? Sounds like a date to me." He grinned widely.

"I may not be experienced in these things, but I'm pretty sure that sounds like a bad date." She teased. "Or maybe you just have really low expectations?"

"Nah." He laughed.

She grinned at him. He was very good a putting people at ease, she could tell. It would explain why he had settled in at the VA in DC. Rogers had lucked out, having Wilson in his corner. "I know you have more questions."

"I do. I have a lot more. The issue is that every answer you give me leaves me with at least five more questions. It might take more time, than either of us has right now." Wilson drained his coffee. "You said you have some of the files? On Barnes?"

"I have access to them, yes." Brooklyn tapped her finger on the table. "It would take me a day or two to get them, physically."

"And you are okay giving them to us?"

She tilted her head. "You aren't going to run off, post them on the internet, or give them to the government to use against him, are you?"

"Definitely not." He promised. "It will stay in house."

Brooklyn nodded. "Give me a few days. Anything else? Or am I allowed to go?"

"One more thing. You said your father was a part of HYDRA, why didn't he stop them from hurting you?" He leaned forward again, intense.

She blew out a lung full of air. "He tried. He really tried to protect me. But he was as much a prisoner, as I was. He couldn't do anything, in the end, to stop them." She closed her eyes tight, feeling the prickling of tears. "I don't blame him. I tried to help him, as much as I could, in the end."

"And yet he's not in the picture, as you said."

"No." She inhaled sharply. "It's better this way, I guess."

Wilson nodded. "So, now that I have your number, is it okay if I call in case, we need anything clearing up?"

"Clearing up, or another coffee date?" She teased, winking at him.

"And what if I said both?" he winked at her, before wincing. "Calm down, Steve. I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmm." She gave a half-smile. "Go ahead and text me, if you have any more questions. And I'll let you know when I get those files ready."

Brooklyn stood up and reached for her messenger bag. Digging in it, she pulled out the envelope of money, from last night. Placing it on the table, she slid it to Wilson. "Do me a favor? Give that to Rogers. I don't feel comfortable taking it from him."

Wilson raised his eyebrows and nodded. Picking the envelope up, he tilted his head. She waited, realizing that Rogers was making his own opinion known. "Yeah, he's not exactly happy."

"Doesn't matter. I am not his to take care of. I don't need his help. I've been doing perfectly fine, on my own for the past five months." She shouldered her bag. "Now, it's been fun, but I do have things I need to do. I will talk to you later, Wilson."

He stood and offered his hand. As she shook it, he smiled. "It's been a pleasure. Do you mind if I steal the pastries?"

"Knock yourself out."

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

She was on the subway, headed back to Brooklyn when the hair on her neck raised. Typing away on her phone, checking the news, she felt a shiver of awareness run down her back. She raised her head and gave a quick look around. No one seemed to be paying particular attention to her, but the car was packed. Lowering her head, she tried not to inhale the scent of the burly drunk standing in front of her seat, leering down at her.

She adjusted the bag on her lap, making sure to keep her hand on it.

Brooklyn considered texting Momo but rationalized her feeling. It was most likely because she was a single woman on the subway. It could have been a subconscious reaction to the appraising gaze of someone who was more than likely a predator. She almost wished the predator would try something with her. Better her than some innocent who had no idea how to protect herself. She could almost feel the bones of the scum breaking under her hands, the screams for mercy, the scent of fear.

Shaking her head, she looked back at her phone, keeping partial attention to what was going on around her. She didn't like violence. It wasn't something she sought out. But if someone were to decide to lay hands on her... she would do what she had to, to make them understand what a mistake that was.

The voice over the speaker announced the stop for Carroll Gardens, and she stood up, using the messenger bag between her and the drunk to make space, which he was inclined to not give her. Turning, making her way to the sliding doors, she felt a hand press on her backside. Reaching behind her, quickly, she grasped the hand and twisted, hearing the hiss of pain, and the muttered 'Bitch!' which accompanied it. As soon as the doors slid open, she was out of the subway car, and on the platform, readjusting her messenger bag. Brooklyn slipped through the crowds, towards the stairs when the feeling hit her again. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, and she wanted to turn on her heel, to scan the people around her.

She ignored the urge, and went up the stairs, avoiding touching anyone, if she could. Hitting street level, she walked at a fast pace to the first street crossing, and turned the corner, pressing herself against the building, edging her head around the corner. Scanning the people coming up out of the subway, she tried to discern who was setting off her internal alarms. She disliked the feeling that she was being hunted. Sliding back behind the corner, she shook her head at herself.

It was most likely some dick who wanted to take advantage of women.

She decided to continue on her way home, besides, she was back in Carroll Gardens. This was Mr. Marino's territory, and she knew she would be able to walk freely here.

It wasn't long before she was back on her street, the familiar stalls greeting her as she passed. When she reached the bakery, she paused, digging out her keys. Brooklyn's hand was closing around her keys when the feeling hit again. Inhaling, she pretended to keep digging through her bag.

She couldn't lead whoever it was setting off her alarms, to Juliana.

Dropping the keys, she pulled out her wallet and entered the bakery. Tommaso, the bakery owner's son, working there during the summer, called out a greeting in Italian. She responded and went up to the counter. Pretending to look at the offerings behind the glass case, she asked for his father. Carmine came out of the back, covered in flour. When he saw her, he immediately asked about Juliana.

"Come sta quella tua bella ragazza?" He smiled. How is that beautiful girl of yours?

Brooklyn smiled back. "Bene. Le sono piaciuti i muffin stamattina. Dovremo tornare per di più." Fine. She enjoyed the muffins this morning. We will have to come back for more.

Carmine gestured to the glass case. "Qualcosa di dolce per tentare entrambi, per uno spuntino?" Something sweet to tempt the both of you, for a snack?

She pointed at a cake in the case. "La piccola torta alla crema, per favore. e, se non ti dispiace, posso sgattaiolare fuori dalla tua porta sul retro?" The small cream cake, please. and, if you wouldn't mind, may i slip out your back door?

Frowning, he snapped his fingers at his son, pointing at the case, before waving Brooklyn over to the register. "Sei nei guai? Devo chiamare Marino?" Are you in trouble? Do I need to call Marino?

She shook her head, pulling out double the amount the cake cost. "È solo una sensazione che ho. Preferirei essere al sicuro, piuttosto che dispiaciuto. capisci?" It's just a feeling I have. I would rather be safe, than sorry. You do understand?

Carmine took the cake and handed it to Brooklyn. He waved off the money. "Si, si. Capisco. Tommaso, mostrale la porta sul retro. Torni a casa sano e salvo, sì? E niente soldi! Il sorriso di quella bambina è un pagamento sufficiente." Yes, yes. I understand. Tommaso, show her the back door. You get home safe, yes? And no money! That little girl's smile is payment enough.

Brooklyn smiled, and shoved the money in the tip jar, slipping around the counter, and following Tommaso through the kitchen, to the back door. Just as she went through it, into the alley, she heard the front door open, the bell above the door tinkling merrily. Holding the cake by the strings around the box, she jogged down to the door of their apartments, hauling her keys out of her bag, switching them for her wallet, shuffling the keys through her fingers, until the one that opened the door was ready.

Shoving it in the lock, she twisted it, and shoved the door open, closing it quickly behind her. Realizing she was still exposed by the glass set in the door, she sprinted up the stairs as fast as she could, taking the steps in multiples, until she reached the third-floor landing, skidding on the tile, as she ran for her apartment door. Jamming the keys in the lock, she threw open the door, all but throwing her body into the apartment, slamming the door behind herself, and turning the lock.

Backing away from the door, she sucked in air, her body shivering. Brooklyn turned and went to the window, that overlooked the street, cursing the windows that didn't open more than a few inches. She couldn't see down, and the view she did have of the street didn't help.

What was it that had set her off?

Putting the cake on the counter, and pulling off her bag, she sat on the stool, putting her face in her hands. The heightened feeling... was almost like the feeling of being hunted. But, instead of it actually feeling like something dangerous, it felt... it did feel predatory. But not like how she was used to being watched while in HYDRA.

Suddenly she closed her eyes and threw back her head, groaning in frustration. "Goddammit, Rogers!"

It was the only explanation. That man was bound and determined to get his way, in this, at least. He must have moved close to the coffee shop, when he realized she was about to leave, or when Wilson had taken the earpiece out.

To be fair, she understood that. If Papa had taken his earpiece out or had been unresponsive, she would have done the same thing. But did he have to try to follow her home? Well, yes. The answer to that question was yes. He had no real reason to trust her, to believe she was telling the truth, or that she wasn't a threat. She understood that, as well.

But at the same time, how damn rude!

She stood up, and set her hands on her hips, curling her lips. Well, apparently Rogers wasn't going to let this one go. she didn't feel comfortable with the idea of him being around. But realistically, if Steve Rogers was going to push, she really didn't have any recourse to stop him. She could protest all she wanted, but if he was going to be stubborn and push her boundaries, then he was going to. So, the best idea would be to let him think he was winning while moving the goals. The ultimate goal was to get him to leave her alone, so she could focus on taking care of Juliana. But the new goal was to make sure he remained ignorant of Juliana, and both hers and Brooklyn's true connection to Papa.

The best way to manage this, she thought, was to work with him, to a point, then make sure he understood there was a line he wasn't allowed to cross. Maybe once he got the files they had managed to download, before they were released, he would be distracted enough to leave her alone.

Oh, what she wouldn't give for a global threat big enough for the Avengers to be called out!

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

She was serving the table of rowdy college boys, who were celebrating the last few weeks of Summer Vacation when she felt the awareness (as she had decided to call it) run over her. Thankfully she wasn't dressed in anything too revealing, today. Tight white button-down shirt, opened to just above her navel, paired with a pair of tight purple lace boy shorts, pulled over a pair of close fishnet stockings. Unfortunately, she also had a matching bra on, that put her chest on display, and pushed the button-down shirt open. If she wasn't too careful, the entire thing would pull to the side, exposing her bra. It was alluring enough that patrons were tipping well, without making her feel like she was completely naked.

Walking back to the bar, she dropped off the empty beer glasses and handed Alex her tips. Taking a deep breath, she turned and scanned her section, looking for Rogers.

She spotted him at table four, again. Baseball cap on his head. That must be his go-to disguise, she figured. Brooklyn was VERY tempted to send another server over if only to thwart him, but she reminded herself that she was a highly trained HYDRA asset, who had managed to survive all her existence through several regimes, and more than her fair share of gunfights. She could handle one super-soldier who was having a serious time understanding her boundaries.

But, unlike last night, when he had taken her by surprise, this time she was aware and knew that she had the advantage of the battlefield. This was her turf; this was her home ground. He was the interloper, and by God, she was going to take advantage of it.

Turning to Alex, she ordered the same beer she had been serving Rogers and Wilson last night, asking it to be taken out of her tips. When it was set on the bar in front of her, she didn't even bother putting it on the tray. She turned around and saw he had moved so that he could watch her. Brooklyn let a confident smirk curve her painted lips and picked up the beer bottle. Sauntering over his direction, she lifted the bottle and took a deep pull off it. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be drinking while on the clock, but she was willing to flaunt the rules if only to one-up Rogers. Walking by his table, she placed the beer down in front of him, without making a sound, or attempting to engage him, then walked away. The customers at table ten looked like they were ready for some more drinks.

She flirted with table ten for a bit, making sure they were having a good time, declining when one of them mentioned they would love to get a lap dance from her, suggesting another girl instead, and when they were enthusiastic about it, waved her over. She collected empty glasses, and confirmed another round, rubbing one of the sober drivers on the shoulder, as she left.

Rogers had put out the empty bottle, with a twenty under it.

She snagged the bottle with two fingers as she breezed past, ignoring the money, and him.

Brooklyn placed her table's drink order, and another one for Rogers, loading the drinks on her tray, again holding Rogers' beer in one hand. Depositing it in front of him, she gave in to an alien impulse and added an extra sway to her walk as she went to deliver the drinks to table ten. As she was distributing the drinks, she glanced up into one of the mirrors hung on the wall and caught Rogers watching her. Smirking, she deliberately bent over more than really needed to deposit a drink on the far side of the table, letting the back of her shirt rise up. He looked away.

The dance she had begun continued for the rest of her shift, and when she went by his table the last time, picking up the empty bottle, she finally picked up the cash he had been laying down.

As she was closing out, checking her order sheets, and picking up her tip box, she glanced over her shoulder at the table he had been squatting in for the past few hours, only to see he had left.

Maybe he had finally gotten the hint?

Brooklyn knew she wasn't going to be that lucky. So, it came as no surprise to her, when she left the club, he stepped out of the shadows, next to her. She ignored him, for the time being, adjusting her messenger bag, and checking to make sure her banking bag was firmly on the bottom of it, while her wallet was in easy reach. She adjusted the hood of her zippered sweatshirt and checked to make sure her keys were in her pocket, while her personal defense cat was in the other.

They walked side by side for two blocks before he cleared his throat. Before he could get a word out, however, she already was speaking.

"What part of I wanted you to stay on your side of the city, was not clear enough for you? I thought all the history books claimed you had a fairly high IQ. Do I need to use pictures to explain?"

"Pretty dame walking home, late at night, through the Bronx? Figured you wouldn't mind an escort, for your safety." He had his hands shoved in his pants pockets; his baseball cap pulled low.

Brooklyn stopped in her tracks. "Dame? I've been called a lot of different things, over the years, but I'm not sure I've ever been called 'dame'." She thought about it a moment before waving her hand in the air. "Besides the point. What made you think I needed an escort for safety."

He sighed. "Sam might have mentioned that I came on a bit too strong, last night."

"Just last night? What do you call screaming in poor Wilson's ear while he was at the coffee shop? A gentle reminder?" She folded her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow.

Rogers heaved a sigh, and took off his baseball cap, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'll admit. I was more than a little bit overbearing."

"And when you followed me to the bakery after I left the coffee shop? What would you call that? Cause I would call that you breaking our deal, and as such any promise I made Wilson became null and void." She poked him in the chest. "I don't want you to know where I live. I don't come knocking on the door of the Avenger's tower asking if you can come out and play, do I?"

"I'm sorry!" He blurted. "I figured if I tried to follow you, I might have a bit more confidence in what you were telling Sam!"

"Yes, because following a highly trained HYDRA asset to an unknown location, when said asset has already proven to swing a weapon at someone's face when they grab her unannounced and has an unhealthy amount of paranoia regarding her freedom, has ALWAYS worked out!" She pushed his chest, absolutely stunned by his stupidity, not to mention his nerve. "How are you still alive? I mean, how did you even survive the war, to begin with, before your plane crash?"

"Bucky." He smirked as if that was the answer to everything. "And it sounded like he helped you out, more than a few times as well."

Brooklyn started walking again. Rogers let her get a few meters away, before jogging to catch up. "By the way, nice trick with the bakery."

"Thank you."

"How'd you get the owner to help you?" He shoved his hands back in his pockets.

"Carmine likes me. I buy from him enough." She shrugged. "He makes good muffins."
"I'll have to try them." He looked down at her.

"First off, NO. You are gonna stay out of Brooklyn. That's my area now. I'll stay out of Manhattan, and you stay out of Brooklyn. So, you are never going to ty Carmine's muffins. Consider those my muffins now." She pointed at him. "Second, take off that damn hat. I can't see your face, and I don't trust someone whose face I can't see."

Rogers obeyed the order about the hat, taking it off, and stuffing it in his back pocket, but he argued about the first order. "I'm from Brooklyn. It's gonna be hard to keep me out. I've been looking for a place there. Thought it would be nice to return to the old neighborhoods."

"Yeah, well, try." She rolled her head towards him. "I'm giving up the chance to see a Broadway play. And Central Park. And most of the better museums. And shopping on Fifth Avenue. So, excuse me if I think you giving up the chance to move back to your childhood home isn't too much to ask of you."

"You can't expect me to just give up an entire Borough. Let alone the one I was born and raised in." He shook his head. "It's not gonna work, doll."

"First dame, now doll? Really?" She was slightly irritated by this. Pet names indicated a closeness that they did not share.

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know your real name. because I really doubt, regardless of what was written on the back of that picture of you and Bucky, that your real name is 'Queenie'."

"But Queenie is what you will call me because that is the only thing that will come out of your mouth, that I will answer to." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Do I ever get to learn your real name?" Rogers hinted.

"Nope." She shut him down. "Just like how you don't get to know where I live."

"Okay. I'll table that discussion for now. So, instead, why don't you tell me how you ended up working in a strip club belonging to the head of the Italian mafia?" he pursed his lips.

Brooklyn laughed lightly. "The person I left HYDRA with, had connections with Mr. Marino. Mr. Marino took pity on me and helped me get on my feet. He offered me a job. It's a good paying one."

"But you take your clothes off for strangers." He protested.

"Yes, but at the end of the night, when I go home unless it's by natural causes, all my patrons are alive. That's a big plus in my book." She shrugged. "And there are rules. Look, but don't touch."

"But last night, you said – "

"I was trying to wind you up. As I said, I could tell you were uncomfortable there. So, I took it a tad too far. That, as far as I am aware, is not a crime." She smiled. "But then again, you weren't complaining too hard, yourself."

Rogers flushed. "Did you and bucky...?"

"Did we what?"

"Touch." he looked away, his jaw flexing.

She blinked. Then realized what he was asking. "Oh, God, no. Never, we never did anything like that. We weren't like that."

"Okay." He nodded, grimacing. "Good."

Brooklyn stopped short. "Does that mean you would not have had your friend find a measure of happiness, even if it while he was in HYDRA?"

Rogers held out a hand. "How can it be happiness, if he was a prisoner?"

"I was happy with him. He made me happy." She looked at the ground. "I guess it's hard to explain. He was my only source of comfort, for so long."

He sighed and nodded. "I get it. The two of you were going through some things that I can't even begin to imagine. So, you both took comfort in each other."

"Exactly. Besides, they had women they would offer him for that." She picked up her pace a bit, realizing she had to get home, sooner rather than later. She also had to shake Rogers.

"What?" He put his hand on her arm, stopping her. "They offered him women?"

She nodded. "When he did an exceptional job at his mission, they would sometimes reward him with female companionship."

Rogers stared at her, his face disturbed. "Why?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Most likely the same reason they sent you on the USO tour with forty women of childbearing age. It is easier to breed one male to multiple females, than one female to multiple males. You have a better probability of an offspring."

"How did you know about that? Not the USO tours, but that I was encouraged to..." He faltered, his words trailing off.

"Breed?" She asked, then frowned. "It was something that I often heard in comparison when they brought a woman to him."

And it had. Zola often cited it as a reason for her father being brought a woman. They were often HYDRA-connected women, who knew what they were up for. And, as she herself could hold as an example, the efforts often bore fruit. In fact, the efforts had been productive five times, that she was aware of. When the failures of the serum piled up, Zola would fall back on the old-fashioned way of extending the Winter Soldier program. What they could not recreate using science, they would be using nature. She remembered, being eight or nine when one of the events happened. She had been removed from his cell, and as she had been escorted down the hall to a new cell, she had passed the woman.

Zola had taken the opportunity to run tests on her, and she had been bold enough at that age to still ask questions. The Swiss scientist had adjusted his glasses, smiling, when he had answered her query in regard to her father's visitor. Explaining that the same thing had happened with her mother and that one day, she too would be given visitors. Looking her in the eye, he had extolled the future use of her body to bring in the newest generation of super soldiers.

It was the first time she had heard the plan, but over the years, it had not been the last.

"That information wasn't made public, as far as I was aware." Rogers' voice brought her back to the present. "And there was nothing in the files released that indicated that Bucky had kids."

"Well, there wouldn't be, would there? The children, if there were any, would have been under whatever project name they were intended for." She inhaled and looked around. She had maybe another five blocks before she had to get away from Rogers if she wanted to keep him from following her all the way home. The window was closing. "All the information, regarding parentage and such, would be listed in the program's file."

He tried to stop her, again, and she shrugged him off, getting irritated. "Look, I understand you have a whole lot, that you want to know, in regard to Barnes. And I would love to keep talking to you all night if it meant you were going to leave me alone in the end. But right now, I'm tired. I want to go home and go to sleep. And honestly, this is delving into a lot of stuff that I don't like remembering, okay?"

Rogers persisted, and huffing, she stopped walking. "How many?" he asked, starting to bare his teeth. "How many children did he have? How many children do I have to look for?"

Brooklyn shook her head. "Don't."

"No, tell me." He turned her, his hand on her upper arm. "How many children do you know about?"

She tried to pull away. "It doesn't matter."

Rogers's eyebrows furrowed, and his lips curled up. Pushing against the arm he held, he moved her backward. She thought about resisting but knew he was intent. "How can you tell me it doesn't matter?! Those children need help! God knows, after what HYDRA probably did to them, they need help!"

Brooklyn felt a wall against her back. What was with him and pushing her into walls? "They are fine!" She spat at him, feeling a flare of anger and frustration. What the hell had made her open up her mouth about her father's women? The conversation had been going so well, she had forgotten for the moment who he was and what he really wanted from her, and fool she was, she had given it to him.

"You can't be sure of that!" he towered over her, breathing coming fast. He braced one hand on the wall, just above her head, effectively caging her. "If Bucky's kids are in danger, I need to protect them!"

She brought up her free hand and placed it on his chest, not yet pushing, but ready to make space. "I do know! I know his children are safe!"

Rogers blinked, then narrowed his eyes, slowly leaning forward into her. Using his height and weight to try and dominate her. She felt the awareness run through her. "You know where his children are. That's why you don't want me to follow you home. You have them."

"It is my mission to protect Barnes' children!" she hissed. "And I will protect them, even from you."

"Who gave you this mission? HYDRA? Are you supposed to keep them safe, until someone comes and gets them? Then you hand them over to save your own skin?" He shook her, sharply. "If you think, for one second I will allow you to do that to Bucky's kids – "

Finally angry, she used the hand on his chest to push at him, jostling him from his position. "Don't you dare! HE gave me the mission! He told me to protect his children! And I will do it with my last breath!"

They stood there, breathing harsh, eyes locked, challenging each other. Neither one was willing to back down. Not even the sound of a car slowing down and stopping broke them. There it was again, that feeling of awareness that she was getting from Rogers every time, it seemed, that they were within a five-foot radius of each other.

"Queenie?" Momo's voice cut in.

She blinked slowly and turned her head to look out from under Rogers' arm. "Momo?"

"Marcus called the club. You are over twenty minutes later than you said you would be. He was concerned someone might have accosted you on your way home." Momo said conversationally while reaching into the back of his jacket. "I came to find you and give you a ride home." He pulled out his gun and flicked off the safety. "Sir, I am going to ask you, politely to remove your hands from the young lady, and back away."

"Its okay, Momo. Captain Rogers and I were simply having a difference of opinion." She moved her arm, and Rogers, narrowing his eyes further, released her. He kept his eyes locked on her as Brooklyn slipped out from under the arm caging her and went over to Momo's side. Placing a hand on the one holding the gun, she shook her head. "No need to send him back to the Avengers damaged."

Momo jerked his head towards the car. But he put his gun away. Straightening his jacket, he looked at Rogers. "I see. Well, if that's all?"

Rogers took a deep breath. "For now." He nodded politely at Brooklyn, seemingly having gathered himself. "Queenie."

Brooklyn shivered at the promise he had in his voice. He wasn't done with her yet. Rogers had a new bone to gnaw at. And like a fool, she had thrown it at him. She nodded back. "Captain Rogers. Get home safe."

Momo escorted Brooklyn to the car, closing the door behind her after she slipped into the backseat. Turning to Rogers, he paused, then nodded. "Thank you for your service, Captain."
He got in the car, and pulled away from the curb, leaving Brooklyn to watch Rogers through the window, as he put his hands on his hips, head down.

She wasn't sure who won that round, but she knew it wasn't the final one.

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

Brooklyn stepped out of the shower, the next morning, humming to herself. Wrapped in a towel, left the bathroom, popping her head around the corner of the hall, looking at Juliana, who was seated on the floor in front of the television, watching her puppet show. "Hey, Jules? How'd you feel about going and getting your school supplies and uniform today?"
her sister cheered and jumped up, running towards her. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Laughing Brooklyn patted Juliana on the head. "Let me get dressed, and then you can. Then we will go do some shopping."

Juliana started happily hopping towards her bedroom, Brooklyn following behind.

As she pulled out some clothes, she thought about how Momo had driven her home last night. Other than asking if she was really okay, and if she wanted him to send some of his boys after the Captain, he had left the whole situation alone. He had simply reminded her, that she was connected to a powerful man, who would do what he needed to protect her if she asked.

Brooklyn had declined. Rogers was, essentially, harmless to her. Other than the heightened awareness he made her feel, he was of no danger to her. Eventually, he would get what information he needed out of her, and then he would leave her alone. And if he was truly that sure he could bring Papa home, and help make him better, then maybe she should stop fighting him.

She was rather proud, after thinking about it, how despite her utter cock-up about letting Rogers know her father had children, that she had not let slip that she was one of those children. Of course, the downside was that Rogers figured out that the reason she refused to disclose her location to him was that she was protecting his best friend's children.

She wondered how child-friendly Rogers actually was. Not the sanitized family-friendly version that was bandied about in the media. If he was truly interested in children or competent in dealing with them, or if his interest in her father's children was due to them being Papa's.

Pulling on shorts over her panties, and a simple tank top over her bra, she slipped on a thin, almost see-through button-down, before kneeling and pulling out her small money box from under the bed. She was uncertain how much school supplies, as well as uniforms, cost, so she counted out several hundred dollars. Flicking through what was left in the box, she was pleased with the nest egg she was building. Marcus had set aside a fair amount of money, stolen from HYDRA, for her and Juliana, but they both agreed that it was a good idea to leave that money alone for a while. At least until they were certain they would not need it to start over again. The nest egg was simply there in case she needed to go to the ground at a moment's notice, without Marcus knowing.

Folding the money into her short's pocket, she went to Juliana's room to help the eager four-year-old dress.

After placing the money in her wallet and checking to make sure she had everything she needed to shop, as well as spend most of the day out of the apartment, she locked the door behind them. Holding her sister's hand, they skipped down the stairs, singing a silly song from the puppet show, about rainbows. Juliana leaped out the door of their building, before spinning and laughing at her older sister's slower pace.

"Hurry, Lyn!" She raised her hands above her head, spinning in the sun of the day. "Go shopping!"

Brooklyn laughed freely, stepping out the door, and reaching down to tickle Juliana. "Yup, we are going shopping!"

The little girl wrapped her arms around Brooklyn's neck, letting her carry her weight for a moment before standing up. "Yup, school shopping!"

A deep throat cleared to her left, and the awareness shot through Brooklyn. She straightened and spun to face the sound, holding her sister's hand, ready to protect her.

"You know, these really are great muffins." Steve Rogers, Captain America, the man who apparently kept crossing all the lines she drew in the sand, leaned against the 'no parking anytime' sign at the opening of the alley, wearing his stupid baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses. In his hand was one of the excellent muffins from Carmine's bakery. He gave her a wide, satisfied smile. "Found you, Queenie."

Suddenly the smile fell from his face. His mouth dropped open, and he reached up to pull the sunglasses from his face. Taking a step forward, he glanced between Juliana and Brooklyn several times. Locking his eyes on Brooklyn's, he breathed out, "Oh my god."

She clutched Juliana's hand in hers. He had figured it out. Rogers now knew who she was. "Well, shit."