"Everything fit fine, Brooklyn." He told her, still frowning at the clothes. "Who were you talking to?"

"Papa?" She asked, stepping forward, reaching out for the clothes. "We can go get some new boots, nearby, I think. Then a new coat."

"Who was on the phone, Brooklyn?" He looked at her intense. "Who was that?"

"Fucking Idiot Asshole, Papa." She told him, attempting to take the clothes from him. He held them away from her. "Papa, don't play games."

"Where did you meet him?" He took a slow step away from her. She frowned. He looked a bit wild about the eyes.

Dammit.

"At the club, Papa." She took a deep breath. "He came in, one night. We... I thought we had hit it off, after that. I did try to not allow him near... but there was something... And like I said, I thought I could make him mine."

"Why did he sound like Steve Rogers, Brooklyn?" That wild look wasn't going away. Shit, this could go very bad, very quickly, if she wasn't careful. The threat that she had warned Wilson about, about how Papa might just take a whole lot offense to Rogers fucking his daughter floated up to the forefront of her mind. Papa had also made it very clear to her, this morning, that he wasn't comfortable with the idea of Rogers and her playing games in the bedroom. "Have you been conspiring with him, this whole time? Are you turning your back on me? Gonna hand me over?"

"Papa." She took a deep breath. "I would never betray you. Not like that."
"Was that Steve? My Steve?" He looked like he was going to lose his temper in a moment.

Brooklyn gave him a slow blink. Then she lied. "Papa, I can honestly say that the man on the phone, that I was just talking to, was not your Steve Rogers."

He just stared at her, as if he could see through her. Which he probably could. God knew, they had been together for years. He probably knew her better than she knew herself. After all, he had apparently known she had been triggering the Soldier, and had been handling him, when she had been trying to hide that from him for decades.

"C'mon, Papa, are you telling me you think that Steve Rogers, Captain America, the beacon of all that is moral and good, is gonna hang around in a Mafia owned strip club? Really?" She shook her head, stepping forward to take the clothes from him. He resisted for a moment, before allowing her to grab the clothes. "Your Steve, the good man, is gonna hit on a stripper? Really?"

"You are his type." He insisted. "Brunette, sassy, strong. You'd turn his head, in a heartbeat."

"Before or after I tried to put a knife in his throat?" She tossed her head. "I mean, really, Papa. Captain America? Do you really think I'd be able to put away all of what I had been taught, that easily? And take up with the enemy? The man who... the man who took away my empire?"

"You don't need an empire." He shook his head, looking around the shopping area. "We should move on. We've been standing here long enough. People are gonna notice."

"Who's fault is that?" She snapped, turning and leading him away from the dressing rooms. "Asking me if I was gonna turn you over to Steve Rogers. Honestly, Papa. It's like you don't even know me."

"Sometimes I wonder." He responded, following her, as she turned towards the area the signs indicated was the shoe department. "I know i taught you to hide who you were from people. I wonder how well I did it. If you are able to hide yourself from me."

"Look who's complaining about people hiding." She shot over her shoulder. "You are the grand champion of that, right now."

"I've explained- Look, Baby Girl, I know I'm hurting you with what I need to do but-"
She cut him off. "But you think it's okay to accuse me of conspiring with Rogers, to what... turn you in, so who ever can do whatever they wanted to you?" She stopped turning to face him, shifting the clothes in her arms so she could poke him in the chest. "It hurt me, every time they hurt you. Every time they did what they did to you. I hated hearing you scream. I despised having to clean you up, afterwards. Every time. And you think that I would be okay leaving you open to something like that, again? Even when I-" She stopped taking a deep breath. "Even when I did what I did, I did it so we could survive. That's what I told myself. That's what I held on to. I will never just blindly hand you over to someone I thought would use you against yourself, ever again. I will lie, cheat, steal, kill, blow up governments, if it meant that you never had to go through that again. That is my promise to you. They will have to go through me, to get to you, every time."

"But you shouldn't have to." He waved his hand between the two of their bodies. "At what point, are you going to allow me to make the choices I need to, to keep you and your sister safe? At what point, are you going to stop fighting me on it?"

"When I know for certain that you are making them logically, and not out of emotion or fear." She took the hand he was waving in her free one. "When I know, that your head is on so straight, the words no longer scare you. I'll let you make them, then. Until then, you have to trust me, and believe me when I say, I will never tell Steve Rogers where you are. If you ever tell me."

He made a sound of indecision. "I don't know, Brooklyn. Steve... if he finds you, he's good. He has ways of convincing people to follow him, to help him. I mean, he's really good. Or he was..."
"You told me, he was the best man you ever knew." she squeezed his hand. "I can't imagine that has changed. But if he finds me, I promise, I won't let him use me to find you."

He returned the squeeze, seeming to relax, finally. Then he tensed up. "What was going on, between you and the Fucking Idiot Asshole?"

"Papa...." She groaned, letting go of his hand, turning to continue on their way to the shoe department. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He followed her. "What happened?"

"Goddammit, Papa." She sighed. Stopping she turned to face him. "I made a fool of myself with him, alright? I... I fell in love with him. I shouldn't have. But I did. I'm sorry."

He tightened his jaw. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head. "Not like that. I just.. between the pheromones, and the realization that I'm not good enough for him, I have had to step back. Put space between us."

"But he doesn't want space." His eyes brightened with realization. "He still wants you around."

"More than he should, really." She nodded. Turning again, she reached behind her, holding out her hand. "C'mon, Papa. We are wasting time."

He put his hand in hers, allowing her to lead him. "What does he do, this Fucking Idiot Asshole?"

"Security." She fell back on the half truth she had been using when explaining Steve's work to people on the outside of their little world. "Private security. It was the easiest job he could find, after SHIELD fell."

"And he was with SHIELD, and not.." He let the sentence trail off, and she picked up what he wasn't saying.

"No. He was SHIELD." She turned her head, grinning at him over her shoulder. "He's a good man, really. Better than I deserve."
"You deserve the best." He insisted. "How far... how involved... Did you... I mean..."

She found the shoe department, letting go of his hand as she entered the displays. "Papa, are you asking me if he and I had... relations?"

"I just wanna know if I need to go back to New York and snap his neck." He shrugged, pausing at a display of running shoes. "I mean, you fell in love with him, and such. I guess I wanna know how foolish you really were?"

"That is the pot calling the kettle black, Papa." she accused, narrowing her eyes at him. "How many women did you mess with, before the war? And during?"
He pointed a finger at her, sternly. "None of them were my daughter. I have every right to be concerned how a man acts around my child."

"You make it sound creepy, when you say it like that." She complained. "You forget, I'm older than I look. Maybe it was the other way around, you ever consider that? Maybe I was the aggressor."

"I doubt it." He sniffed, clearly dismissing the idea. "I raised you to be a good girl. And good girls don't do that."

"Good girls also don't kill people. But I did that, too." She picked up a pair of boots that looked like they might last a while, despite being abused. "So, I don't hold much stock in good girls."

"You never wanted to do that stuff." He shook his head, coming over closer. He took the clothes from her, setting them down on a nearby chair. Resting his hand on her shoulder, he gave her a gentle squeeze. "I never wanted you to do that stuff. That's what makes you a good girl."

"It's immaterial." She shrugged, looking down at the boots in her hand. "I still did it. I will have to answer for it, someday. What size shoe do you wear?"

"Don't dodge the question." He ordered, taking the boots from her, setting them back down. "We need to discuss this. How far did you go?"

"Seriously?" She stared at him, a little bit shocked. "You want to hear about my sex life? Really, Papa?"

He looked uncomfortable, but nodded shortly. "I want you to feel comfortable talking about things like that with me. I don't remember... I can't recall if I ever... I mean, surely we discussed things, when you were growing up?"

Brooklyn gave a short laugh. "Papa, the extent of the education you gave me, was telling me that good girls didn't run around bare assed, and that we waited until marriage. That men shouldn't touch a girl, unless they respected them. And that you were a hypocrite, in that regard. Zola had more of an impact on my sexual education. I mean, I had my menstruation for the first time when I was twelve, and you lost your goddamned mind. You barely looked at me the entire time, while telling me that I had to make sure to not let boys mess with me, now."

"I was never comfortable with that sort of thing." He admitted, shrugging. "It took me by surprise. I tried my best, really I did, Brooklyn."

"I know, but to ask about my sex life, now?" She raised an eyebrow. "How about this? He was so concerned that he was going to hurt me, that he spent the better part of a month on foreplay. And after, I really enjoyed falling asleep in his arms."

"But he..." Papa swallowed, still looking uncomfortable. "He made sure you enjoyed it, right?"

"Thoroughly." She gave him a small smile. "He always made sure I was happy, with everything we did."

"Good." He looked away, still radiating that he was not okay with this conversation. "That's good. I mean.. I'm happy... I'm not happy about... yeah, it's good."

"Papa, you do know where babies come from, right?" She teased, slightly enjoying having her father a little off kilter.

"I know where babies come from, Brooklyn." He snapped, his eyes narrowing at her. "I was there, you know. When you and your siblings where..."

"Made?" She grinned, stepping closer to him. "Conceived? Ordered from the stork?"

"You aren't funny." He pointed at her face. "Not funny at all. I don't know where this sense of humor came from, but I don't like it."

"Huh." She blinked. "Kitty keeps telling her sons, 'I hope all of your children turn out like you, so you know how I felt'. I guess it's true."

"Explain, please." He folded his arms, looking down his nose at her.

"I'm just like you, Papa." She turned to go back to the boots, picking them up. "Just... prettier."

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

Hours later, after she had taken a shower, she was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, while Papa brushed her hair, humming to himself. She had taken her phone with her, into the bathroom, just in case her father had decided to get snoopy, and find out if she had been lying to him about calling Rogers. After shopping, they had gone out to lunch at the chocolate factory, and her sweet tooth had been thoroughly satisfied. She had told Rogers that European chocolate was superior to American, and her trip to Poland solidified that opinion.

While at the chocolate factory cafe, she had pulled out her phone, showing Papa the videos and pictures she had taken of Juliana over the past eight months. There had been happiness, but also sadness in his face as he watched the video of her school concert, at Christmas. The short videos of her at Christmas and her birthday at the Marino's also made him that combination of happy and sad. She had to be a bit vigilant, though, to make sure none of the videos or pictures with Rogers were shown. That would be a huge mistake, after spending most of their shopping trip reiterating that she didn't know Steve Rogers, nor that she was in contact with him.

He wasn't planning on staying much longer. He had told her that even with her having sent a message to Marcus, asking him to intercept the footage of them at the department store, there was too much of a chance that Rogers and whoever he was working with finding them. The last thing he wanted, he told her, was for Steve Rogers to discover her. Not because he was worried that Rogers would do anything to harm her, but that he would start to watch her, out of some sense of responsibility to his former friend. If that happened, if he ever sent for her, ready for them to be a family, or because he needed her help, it would be nearly impossible to shake off the other super soldier. Rogers, he explained, had always been a stubborn jerk, and he couldn't imagine that had changed too much in the years that they had last seen each other.

There was also the fact that Papa insisted that Brooklyn was 'his type'.

But before she sent him off, even reluctantly, she had made sure he was a little bit more equipped than the last time. She had bought him new clothes, a new coat, a new hooded sweatshirt, gloves, a hat, underwear and socks, boots, even a new set of warm clothes he could sleep in, if he got to a place where he felt comfortable. They had also managed to find a decently rated sleeping bag. Toiletries, self care items, and a few small camping items to help him if he really was roughing it, rounded out the purchases. The amount spent didn't matter to her. She simply saw it as her taking care of her father, but he had a look of shame on his face with every purchase.

Even her paying for lunch had caused a small issue. He had argued that he had a bit of money, and he felt he should be the one paying for the meal. She had insisted, though, pointing out that what he had should be saved for himself, while she was able to take care of him now, for the time he had afforded her. After they had settled that, and she paid, they had returned to the hotel, where she encouraged him to take another shower, if only to make sure he was comfortable for the night.

He had agreed, and she had used the time while he was busy to stuff as much of the free cash she had on hand in one of the pockets of the backpack he had, hoping he wouldn't find it, until well after he had left her. She had a feeling it would cause a fight if he found it before then. He was going to be stubborn about it. Simply letting her pay for everything that he actually needed had been an argument, she couldn't imagine he would be pleased with her sending him off with several thousand euros. He would surmise, correctly that it was charity. But not the kind he was thinking. She was of the school of thought that it was her, making sure that her father who was still working through things in his head and might not be able to hold a steady job, what with him constantly moving and all, might need a little money to keep himself afloat.

But before he went, while she still had him where he couldn't easily avoid her, she had to ask him a question. One that had been haunting her most of her life, and one that had come back with a vengeance since Thanksgiving.

"Papa?" She asked, as he gathered her hair, running the brush through it.

"Yeah, Baby Girl?" He asked softly, his voice content. He had always liked combing her hair out. It soothed him.

"Who was my mother?" She took a deep breath. "I know she didn't die during birth, like... well, like I had been lead to believe. She was still alive, when we ran, in sixty three."

He stopped, his hand tightening on her hair for a moment, before he let it go, the soft fair falling down around her shoulders. "How did you find that out?"
"My files. I was born of Subject A and Subject B. I know you were subject A. My mother was Subject B. Who was she?" She turned slightly, so she could look at him. "Please, Papa? I want to know."

He sighed, leaning back, looking down at the brush, playing with the strands of hair caught in the bristles. "You have to understand, when you first asked about your mother... you were young. Too young, I think, to understand the complexities of things. And you never asked again, after the first time you were... frozen." He wrapped a stand of hair around his finger, tightening it and loosening it, and she watched as the tip of his finger went white and then dark, as he added and released the tension. "I really met her, before I fell off the train. She was a secretary for the SSR. Directly under Phillips. That's how HYDRA knew what was going on in the SSR. It wasn't until Steve and the rest of us started going dark, doing the shock and awe attacks on the different factories, that we were able to get a head of HYDRA. She was put in place to spy. To inform on the SSR. She was the one that had told them that they had managed to make the serum. That they had intended to test it, and make an army of super soldiers."
"Okay." She swallowed hard. Papa had lied to her, when she was younger. She understood that. God knew, she had been lying to him most of her life. She had even been lying to Juliana for the most of the time that they had been out of HYDRA. There were some things a child was not ready to hear. "But who was she?"

"Private Lorraine McCall." He shook his head, his face twisting up. "Her next mission, once Steve managed to free me and the others in Italy, was to seduce and kill him. But she was interrupted. But not before she kissed him."

Brooklyn felt sick to her stomach. "She kissed him?"

Her mother had been sent to seduce Rogers. Her mother had kissed Steve Rogers. The same lips that had spent the better part of the past six weeks glued as often as possible to her skin, had been pressed to her mothers lips.

"Yeah, but Peggy interrupted them. And since Steve was chasing after Peggy, it was a bit awkward." He grinned, before sighing. "After the war, she returned to the HYDRA fold, to see what she could do to help. Zola asked her if she would be willing to...well, to give birth. And she agreed."
"Why the lie?" She asked, pushing the hurt and disgust aside. She would unpack all of that bullshit, later, when she was alone. "Why tell me she died?"

"Because." he met her eyes, intently. "They split the two of you up. You and Grant. They gave you to me, and they gave Grant to.. to your mother. She was tasked with raising him to be a believer, since everything else they did to him failed."

"And I was supposed to keep you compliant." She nodded, biting her lip. "because I was the girl."

"Because you were the one who was most like me. Grant was blonde, remember?" Papa reached out, tugging on one of her locks of hair. "You were mine. Always mine. I never regretted that. I never could. I regret that I couldn't do anything to save Grant, the way I was able to save you. Or at least, parts of you."

"Was any of it real?" She frowned. "Was any of the good things I remember, real?"

"I was real. I still am." He looked a little disgruntled. "I tried my best, Brooklyn. I tried, with what I was able to do, considering where we were. I tried to raise you as well as I could."

"No." She shook her head. "I remember playing with Grant in the nursery. I remember us being close. But after a while... it was only you. What I'm trying to figure out, is how much what I thought was good, was a lie."

Papa reached out, stroking her hair. "I think, at the beginning, at least, Grant did care about you. I mean, I was called on, a few times, to help train him. And he would ask about you, at first. But as you both grew older... I think the belief was all he had, in the end. The fact that one day he would help rule the world. That he would help bring the most powerful countries and people to their knees. He became that fanatic that HYDRA loved to cultivate. The best part being, they grew him from within." He paused, twisting a lock around his finger, letting the strands fall from his grasp as he loosened his finger. "You... I tried to show you what the world was really like, with the books I was able to sneak in to you. I tried to instill that sense of good, that I had believed in, with the stories about Steve. I tried to show you how to love, by my actions towards you. I tried so hard to protect you, as much as I could. For a while, I was worried I had failed. You seemed so eager to go along with the programs. Even when they tested on you, and cut into you, you seemed happy to help them. But after what happened with Grant..." He looked away.

"After Grant, I no longer believed." She admitted. "It was after that I started to question them, and what was happening to us."
"You still seemed content to stay put." He shook his head. "And then what they put inside me started to really take hold."

"They figured out how to break you." She reached out, putting her hand on his metal one, stroking the joints and junctures. "I had always believed that losing Grant was the reason you finally broke. That my killing your only son... that I helped break you."

He turned the metal hand over, watching as she touched it. "It wasn't that. I think... I think everything caught up to me. As well as realizing that they were never going to let you age naturally. They were going to keep you frozen as young as possible, so they could use you as long as possible. No matter what I did, they had you in their web. I think the despair of that finally allowed them to break me. But it was never you, or anything you did. I just wasn't strong enough."

"You were strong enough to raise me. You were strong enough to survive, until I could help." She caught the edge of her nail on one of the joints that helped form the crease in the middle of the palm. "Even through all of that, they still didn't beat you. Not really. They may have pushed you down, but you still rose up, when it mattered the most."

Papa slowly closed his hand over hers. "Your mother believed in HYDRA's mission. She believed that you were meant for more than just the work of an assassin. She never thought you should live your life in the shadows, like I did. I remember... once... when she came to see us, she told me, that it was fitting that you were titled a queen. Because only a Queen would rule a world as wonderful and free as the one HYDRA would give you."

"What did she look like?" Brooklyn whispered, watching the metal move. So many people were afraid of this hand. But to her, who had been hurt by it, so many times, it was a memory of comfort and care. It wasn't Papa's dominant hand, but Soldier would often reach out to her with it. Pain, as well as protection came from that hand. And it was one of her earliest memories of her father. And of him.

"She was blonde. Blue eyes." he reached out with his warm hand, touching his index finger to the corner of her cheek. "She had a dimple, right there. And she would have this little smirk, when things were going her way, it almost made her look like a fox. A crafty, blonde fox. She was taller than you. To be honest, I don't know why you are as small as you are. She would tilt her head, and almost look at you from the corner of her eye, as she passed you in a hall, that made you feel like she knew all the things that were going through your head." he shook his head. "I swear, there were times when I thought she was a witch, the way she just seemed to know what you were thinking."
"I have her cheeks." She bit her lip. "I remember you telling me that."

"And as you've grown up, I've noticed more. Her cheeks, her chin, her nose. I'm so worried, now, by how little of me I see in your face." He smiled sadly, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of a finger.

"I have your smile, and your mannerisms." She asserted. "I know that."

"Yeah." He frowned. "Where did you hear that?"

Shit. She had to be more careful. Rogers had told her that.

"I don't remember." She shrugged. "But it's true. Mainly because Juliana has them, too. Sometimes she smiles, and it's your smile, I see."

He grinned at that. "See? I'm still in my girls."

"Always, Papa." She assured. "I try to help Juliana remember, as much as she can about you. I want her to know you, as well as I do. So when you come home, she's ready to be your daughter. I want you to know that."

"I know you are, Baby Girl." he cupped her cheek, stroking her skin with his thumb. "I knew you would make sure she wouldn't forget me. You are so smart. Smart, like your mother."

"Smart like you." She shook her head. "I don't remember her. I don't know her. I'm your daughter. She had Grant. She didn't... I was better off with you."

"Sometimes I wonder." he sighed. "Sometimes, I wonder if maybe you would have been better off with your mother. Yes, you would have been raised to be a believer, but... it couldn't have been easy, being with me. Especially when I started falling apart."

"I would have been dead, by now. Or pregnant by some HYDRA goon. That's what they wanted me for. They wanted me to keep the bloodline going. To produce the future leaders of HYDRA. The only thing that held them back was that they didn't have the right man for the job." She closed her eyes tight. "Being your partner, being the person who was able to handle you, that saved me from that, I think. I wasn't so disposable as to be used as a brood mare for HYDRA. Not even Pierce was aiming that high. I was worth more to them, then just my uterus. Because I was yours. Because I was... because I was your handler. It's sick. It's wrong. But it saved us, in the end."
"I know." He kept stroking her cheek. "I know that it did. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No." She bit her lip. "I know. You have every reason to resent me. And I was so worried that the reason you left us behind, the reason you left me, after all our promises to the contrary, was because you had decided that I wasn't worth keeping around, if I was so willing to sell you out like that, to save our skins."

"Listen to me. Look at me, and listen to me." He ordered, his voice going firm. Like the obedient child she had always been, when it came to him, she opened her eyes, meeting his intense stare. "I want you to hear what I am telling you, right now. Understand? I didn't leave, because of that. I would never have left you, if I didn't feel it was the best choice for our family. I left, because I needed to keep you and your sister safe. I have to make sure that no one finds the two of you. I would die, to keep the two of you safe. It is my responsibility as your father to make sure that the two of you have a good life, free of all the horror we once shared. I need you to stop blaming yourself for everything that happened to me. It's not on you. You were a child. You were my child, and I failed you. Me. Your Papa. I failed. So I need you to remember, that nothing that happened to me, or to you, or to any of your siblings, was your fault. I need you to stop blaming yourself for things that were way beyond your control, both as a child, and as a prisoner of HYDRA."

She pulled away, long enough to crawl up into his lap, wrapping her arm around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, before sliding one hand down to press the palm of her hand against his chest, feeling for and finding his heartbeat. "The same needs to be true for you, too. You need to remember that there was so much beyond your control, Papa. If I was a prisoner, than so were you. You told me they were HYDRA's sins, not ours. Then we both need to work on believing that. It's the only way we are going to be able to live with ourselves, now."

Her father wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, almost too tight. She ignored the discomfort, content to allow her father to soothe himself. His grip loosened, and he began to stroke his hand along her back, humming.

"Papa? What is that song? You've always hummed it. I just... I want to know what it is." She whispered, hesitant to break the silence, to distract him.

"I don't remember. Something about 'binding myself today', or something like that." He sighed. "I just remember the tune, I think."

"From your childhood?" She dug her nails into his chest, slightly. His heartbeat was steady, so he wasn't stressed by her questions. She was enjoying feeling his chest rise and fall against her. It was strange, that she was supposed to be raised to be so strong, a woman who would bring men to their knees in an effort to follow her lead. A future world leader. But when it came to the woman herself, she found that the men in her life were her comfort. Papa, who had always been her rock, her comfort. Rogers, who she had learned to accept that comfort from. Well, not learned so much as had shoved onto her. He had been pushy, right from the beginning. In the end, though, she had begun to crave it as much as she had always craved the comfort from her father.

"I think so." He bent his head, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I think it might be, seeing as it's been something that never left. I just wish I could remember the whole thing."

"I'll figure it out, Papa. I promise." She snuggled in closer to her father, letting his familiar scent and warmth fill her. "I'll figure it out, before you come home."

"Just as long as you don't meet me there, singing it." He chuckled. "There's a lot of things you can do, but carry a tune is not one of them, Baby Girl."

"Meanie." she grumbled, letting her body relax. It was a universal truth she held, that, for the most part, Papa would never do anything to willingly hurt her. There were times when he was forced, or compelled to, yes. But if he had his way, if he was free to choose, he would never do anything to hurt her if he could help it. Even when she was a child, he had been hesitant to hold her with his metal arm and hand, mostly out of fear for how much pressure he would exert. He had to learn, along with her, how much was too much. Until then, he worried over every little bruise and mark he had left. Now, in both of their advanced years, she was confident that, physically at least, he wouldn't hurt her. "It's not my fault I'm not musically inclined."

"That's okay." He assured her, still chuckling. "You have other talents you can fall back on, if your debut on Broadway fails."

"Papa..." She groaned, shaking her head against him. "Be realistic."

"I am." He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "You can be a writer. Tell all the stories about our lives. Publish them under fiction, though. Cause no one would believe it."

"I'm going to school." She told him, softly. "Or I will be. I'm getting ready to take a test, to prove I know what I need to, if I had gone to normal school. If everything goes well, I'll start college in the Spring."

"What school?" He asked, rubbing her back.

"Brooklyn College." She tangled the fingers on the back of his neck into his hair.

He full on laughed. "Well, damn. There's a twist for you. Why did you choose that one?"

"It's a community college." She explained. "As long as I am able to pay, they don't look too hard at my qualifications. Plus, it's close to my apartment. And they have flexible schedules, so I can go to classes around Juliana's schedule."

"Smart." he leaned back, looking down at her. "See, there's the proof. I raise smart girls. You are going to college, and Juliana is in a private school. Before you know it, you'll be taking the world by storm."

"I haven't done it yet, Papa." She admonished. "I still have to take the test, to prove that I learned what I needed to."

"When is the test?" He asked, still looking down at her, worry in his face. "Are you going to miss it, staying here with me?"

"No." she shook her head. "I made arrangements with one of my classmates to take notes for me. I'll catch up quickly, once I'm back. The test is in March. I have lots of time to learn what I need to, to pass the test."

"I just want you to do good in your life, you know? I want you to have all the opportunities you never did, when you were younger." He was still worried. "I don't want you to look back in a few years, and be like, 'damn, I should have done this, or that.'"

"Papa, don't worry. It'll be fine. And I'm trying very hard to take advantage of my freedom." She smiled, reaching up to stroke his prickly chin, before putting the hand back on his chest. "I promise, I am not trying to let any opportunity pass me by."

"I don't want you to hold back, even though I'm not there. I want you to do what makes you happy, even if it's without me." He reached out to brush her hair out of her face. "I mean it, Brooklyn. If you find someone who makes you so happy you are able to put your past behind you, I want you to live your life with them. If they want to get married, if they ask you to marry them, to share your life with them, do it. Don't hold back, just because I'm not there to see it. I would rather miss out on all of that, of seeing you in your dress, of walking you down the aisle, of giving you away, if it means you are living a happy life. That's all I've ever wanted for you. A happy life."

"It wouldn't be the same, without you." She shook her head. "Besides, doesn't that seem a little hypocritical of me? Getting married? When everything about me is a lie?"

"I told you once, there was going to be some boy who was going to steal you away from me." He reminded her. "And I do believe that there might be someone out there, who won't care that you lied to them a little in the beginning, because they will love you enough despite that. Or, there might be someone who you will be able to put all of your trust in, and you won't have to lie. You just have to find them. I need you to find them. Because I need you to be happy. I need my beautiful daughter, to be happy."

She sighed, resting her head back on his shoulder. "I don't think I will ever really be happy until you come home, Papa. Until I know you are as healthy as you can be."

"Don't pin your happiness on my recovery." Papa's voice was stern. "I won't stand for that. You need to make yourself happy, for yourself. Because you deserve to be happy. You deserve to have someone love you as much, if not more, than I have loved you. I will always be your Papa. No matter what you do, no matter where you go. No matter who you are with, I will always be your Papa. But lovers... a husband, that is something that is for you and you alone. A family of your own, even if its one you build, rather than one you birth, is just as strong as the one you are born into. Do you understand?"

"Papa..." She closed her eyes. "I'm terrified, of what would happen to me, if I really let go of you."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "I am, too. But I am also terrified of what is going to happen to you, if you keep holding on. I don't want you to... I don't want you to end up alone, because you kept looking for me. I need you to be your own person, without always waiting for me. I need you to be the strong woman that I raised. I need you to be the Queen that I know you can be. You have so much love in you to give, if you just stopped being so terrified of yourself. It's not a bad thing, to love another person. I mean, you did, didn't you? You said you had feelings for the Fucking Idiot Asshole, right? Well, what's holding you back from being with him?"

"My pheromones." She whispered. "I want it to be real, not something I've stolen."
"If he loves you, really loves you, he won't give a rat's ass about your pheromones. He'll see whats under all of that, and love you for you. I bet, all those phone calls and messages he's been sending you, are about coming back to New York, and rebuilding your relationship, right?" He placed a knuckle under her chin, lifting her head, making her open his eyes, to meet his. "Am I right, Brooklyn?"

"Yeah." She frowned. "But I don't know-"

"No, you don't know. You'll never know, unless you just go for it. I didn't raise a coward. I didn't raise a scardy cat." He shook his head. "I know it can be scary, letting people in. God knows, I am not exactly the best example of healthy relationships. But you can't live your life, because of my mistakes. You cant live your life in fear. You have done too much of that, already. When you get back to New York, if you really want this guy, then you reach out to him, and you sit down, and talk it out. See if there was more, than just the chemical reaction. See if it was, in fact, an emotion that is something that can be built on. Can you do that for your old Papa? Can you try to be happy?"

She bit her lip, but kept her eyes on his. The same blue as her own. "I can try, Papa."

"Promise me." He ordered.

"I promise."

A/N: A bit more Bucky and Brooklyn for those who wanted it. Plus a few more secrets shared. Vote and comment!