Steve was rotating the bottles of suppressors in his hand, watching the liquid inside rotate and catch the light as he tried to understand what Bruce was telling him.

Despite the time he had spent away from Brooklyn, his hormone levels weren't going down.

The bespectacled doctor was going on and on about causality and chemical reactions that Steve was barely able to understand, but the bottom line was clear. Without a vaccine, or something like that, Steve was always going to be affected by Brooklyn's pheromones.

In the time away from her, Bruce had run test after test on Steve's blood, as well as the sample of Brooklyn's that he still had. There were too much things alike, he kept explaining. And there was something he was missing. It felt like it was something so simple, that he was overlooking it.

All that Steve was hearing was that he was loosing Brooklyn over something that wasn't ever going to change. Something that, in reality, he didn't give a flying fuck over. Not when the major side effect of it was that Brooklyn was letting go of him.

His hand closed and tightened over the bottles, the glass creaking warningly. The pain in his chest was becoming a constant companion. Worse was the fact that he was terrified that it was never going to go away.

He missed her.

He missed her, so much.

When he woke up every morning, in his bed in the Tower, he would be reaching for her, across the sheets, his dreams filled with images of her. His ears were ringing, so similar to when he was too close to a blast, but it was her voice he was hearing.

He understood now, how Bucky had complained about his daughter haunting him. Bucky's daughter was haunting Steve now, as well. As surely as she was a ghost following him, he was being haunted by her.

And it wasn't even a haunting of the present sense. It was the haunting of the future Steve was so afraid that he was never going to have. The promises of what could be, as opposed to what was. The shimmering mirage of a man dying of thirst in the desert. It seemed like the closer he got to it, the further away it was.

If she would just come home, he might be able to fix this. He might be able to get them back on track.

If she came home, he would be able to sit her down, and lay it all out on the line. Explain that, despite what she had somehow thought up in her head, he had wanted her, needed her, loved her, long before her pheromones had started in on him. He loved his Babydoll, but goddammit, she could twist facts in her head to something that was so far off base, he had to give her credit for it.

Somehow, she had to have made up this fiction in her head, that the only reason he wanted to be near her, the only reason he had begun to sleep with her, was because of her pheromones. She was completely ignoring the time line, of course, but that was what she believed. And while he hated to disabuse her of anything she believed, because goddammit, he didn't want to be like anyone who had ever crushed her personal beliefs in the past, the truth was far simpler. He had seen a pretty girl. He had wanted to sleep with the pretty girl. Somewhere in between wanting to, and actually doing it, he had fallen in love with said pretty girl.

Everything else was immaterial. Everything else was simply a distraction from that.

He belonged to Brooklyn. She belonged to him. She was it for him. He was putting all his money on that horse in the race, and by god, he was going to see it to the finish line.

The minute details were just the things that needed to be worked out, as far as he was concerned. Where they were gonna live, once he put that ring on her finger. How many kids they were gonna raise, once she either worked out her issues, or worked with him to adopt. What she was gonna do with her life, once she got done with college. What they were gonna eat for dinner every Friday night. If they were gonna get their kids baptized. All of that was stuff that they had to work out, yes. But together. Together they would finalize the details.

But she had to come home, so he could pin her down, make sure she stayed in one spot long enough to confess what was in his heart and what was in his soul.

Not that he didn't have is own issues to worth through. God knew he did. The first one was his jealousy. He needed to work on that. He couldn't keep her locked away from every other swinging dick within a ten mile radius, no matter how tempting the idea was. It wasn't fair to her, nor was it really achievable, given how she moved in the world. Her being around other men was unavoidable, no matter how he looked at it.

First there was the Marino family which, with the exception of Kitty, was populated entirely by males. He couldn't exactly throw a tantrum and bar her from ever spending time with them, seeing as they had been the ones to keep her safe until he had found her. Not to mention they considered her a member of the family. His Babydoll needed a good family, which they were, for all their illegal activities. They honestly cared about her, which went a long way with Steve. And God knew, if he even hinted he might do that, both Brooklyn and the Marinos might break his knee caps.

Second was the men at Juliana's school. Her teacher was male. Mr. Blackwell was a good man. He honestly liked Juliana. And for the most part, Steve had never gotten any hint that the older man was infatuated or attracted to Brooklyn. Granted, with the exception of the first day of school, the parent/teacher meeting, and the few times they had been called in to deal with incidents at the school, the older man had not spent a whole lot of time with Brooklyn. Perhaps that was a good thing. Steve wasn't so sure how comfortable he would be with the idea of having Juliana in a school where one of the teachers was making moon eyes at his girlfriend.

Third, were the males at Brooklyn's college. It was as unavoidable there, as anywhere else. Steve had no doubt that there would be a huge outcry of some sort, if Captain America went down there and demanded that his girlfriend take classes that were utterly devoid of men. Not to mention, it would have the unpleasant side effect of exposing Brooklyn, and Juliana to media scrutiny. Or at least, that was what Maria Hill told him, when she had to squash the scandal rags from publishing photos of his little 'adventure' in front of the windows with Brooklyn, the night of the Gala.

He now had as many of the copies as Hill could get, on a USB in the drawer of his nightstand, in his room here. And more than a few videos. But that was for his own personal pleasure. No other reason. Although, he hadn't looked or watched any of them. He wanted Brooklyn to be there, with him, when he did.

No, the more he thought of it, or tried to plan ways around it, the cold hard truth was that unless he locked Brooklyn up in the Tower, here, and told no one he was keeping her as his own personal plaything, then she was always going to be around men, one way or another.

And despite his inexhaustible levels of energy, he would much rather apply them to things that were more... pleasant, then being jealous of every Tom, Dick, And Horny that came near her.

"Steve? Are you understanding what I'm saying?" Bruce cut into his thoughts, and he jerked his head around, frowning.

"Sorry, Bruce. What was that?" He asked, tired of sitting here and waiting for something that wasn't going to happen overnight.

"I said, I might have figured it out. Maybe." The doctor adjusted his glasses. "The suppressors don't counteract the serum, in either of you, but it does seem to work with it. Which is why it worked, I guess." He frowned, before pointing at Steve's clenched hand. "I wouldn't suggest breaking those. We don't' know how many she got, and hid away."

"More than enough to cause trouble, that's for sure." Steve sighed, relaxing his hand and setting the vials on the counter in front of him. "So what you are saying, is that without actually taking the suppressors themselves, there's no hope."

"No." Bruce shook his head. "I'm saying it'll take time. I mean, I have to synthesize a lot of things, to make this stuff work the way it was supposed to, without the actual side effects. And short of asking you to take it, to see how it really works, in real time, I'm grasping in the dark here. I can't even begin to imagine how HYDRA managed to make this stuff in the first place, given when she was first put on it. It might be easier to make a weakened version, that she can take, which will maybe shut down the pheromone production."

"No." Steve shook his head. "I don't want a single drop of this stuff in her veins. Ever again. Find something else, Bruce. Please?"

The doctor sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Steve, I want this to work, as much as you do."

Steve snorted. He doubted that, very much.

"I do." Bruce insisted. "I mean, you're happy, man. She's happy. You guys are great together. But my concern is, that it's artificial. That her pheromones are somehow... creating the limerance...."
"I wanted her, before her pheromones started producing again." Steve stated, as sure of that fact, as he was of his birth date. "I fell in love with her, long before that. It isn't fake. It never was." He stood up, folding his arms as he paced the laboratory that Bruce had set up the experiments in. "So, what do you know. Break it down, small terms, Bruce."

Sighing, the curly haired doctor shook his head. "I might be able to create something similar. Like I said, I may be able to synthesize something. But its gonna take time. A few months, at the earliest."

"I don't have that much time." Steve folded his arms, hiding his forming fists as the urge to grab Bruce by the front of his shirt and shake him grew. "She isn't going to wait that long for me. She's already halfway out the door. I can't risk any more time.If my hormone levels aren't going down, then the separation was for nothing. If you can't create something right away, then waiting longer isn't an option. Not with Brooklyn."

"Maybe..." Bruce took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry for how things have played out, really I am. She's a sweet kid. And she's doing good. Even I can see that. But... Steve have you even considered this might be for the best? That... maybe the two of you aren't exactly the.... healthiest options for each other?"

"We are the only options for each other." Steve shook his head, a little ticked off that Bruce would even suggest something otherwise. "We fit. Like... Like we didn't even know were missing each other. And the idea... I can't even process it. I'm hers. She's mine. Two sides of the same coin. And it just makes... perfect sense."

Bruce nodded, still looking ready to argue the point, before he heaved a heavy sigh. "Well, I better keep working on this then. Since you are bound and determined to not stay away from her."

"You said two weeks." Steve pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "And while it hasn't been that yet, not one thing has changed this entire time. My hormone levels haven't gone down. I still want her. I still love her. And as soon as I get her home, I'm gonna make sure she knows that. Everything else is immaterial."

The phone went off in his pocket, the alarm letting him know it was time to leave to go pick up Juliana.

"Sorry, Bruce. But you'll have to excuse me." He reached into his pocket, to turn off the alarm. "I have to head out."

Bruce nodded again. "I'll let you know if anything changes, Steve."

"Thank you." He turned, leaving the laboratory. It wasn't long after he stopped at his floor to pick up his jacket, wallet, and keys, before he was down in the parking area, climbing into an SUV with a child's seat firmly strapped into the back seat, and making his way out of the Tower's underground to head towards Carroll Gardens. Despite the extra time he had before Juliana was actually released from school, he was worried he might be late. Traffic this time of day was not kind.

The other downside of leaving this early was that he had time to think, and to worry.

Would today be the day when he arrived at the school to find that, somehow one way or another, Brooklyn had blocked him from being able to pick up Juliana? Had she somehow gotten Juliana out of the school when he wasn't looking, and they had disappeared? Was he going to be standing there, waiting for his little Sweetheart to come out, only to wait, and wait, and wait, before some kind soul took pity on him and told him that she was gone?

The first day after Brooklyn had told him she was leaving for Europe, he had a moment of sheer panic. Despite her saying otherwise, he had worried that she had taken Juliana with her. So, he had rushed to the school, only for Kitty, who had been waiting to pick up Juliana, to give him a raised eyebrow. He had flushed, slightly embarrassed to be caught, but he tried to play it off, suggesting that he could pick Juliana up from school. He could spend some time with her, he explained, before taking her out to Melba. It would make things easier on Kitty, he tried to rationalize.

The older woman hadn't called him out on anything, simply shrugged, and nodded. As such, that marked the first day of the weird schedule he was now keeping. Everyday, he rushed to the school, to pick up Juliana, spend a few hours with her, then drive out to Melba to leave her with the Marino's. Kitty would sometimes invite him to dinner, and sometimes he accepted. But most times, he just smiled, shook his head, and went back to the Tower. Once, only once, had he accepted her offer to come in, and broken down in the kitchen, sobbing about how scared he was of losing Brooklyn. The older woman had patted him on the shoulders and informed him that she didn't think that was possible.

He wished he had the strength to believe her.

He couldn't even bring himself to go back to the apartment over the Italian bakery.

It wasn't just that he felt like it would be a violation of Brooklyn's privacy, to enter the apartment when she was gone. But it also felt like he would do nothing but hurt himself. Too many happy memories were made there, and to be in that silent apartment, with no knowing if or when he would be able to return to that happy place... well, it hurt.

Instead, he pretended, usually late at night, that he was on call for a mission. That he needed to be able to snap to the ready with little notice. That they were simply spending this time apart because of the work he did with the Avengers.

It was easier than living in the reality that he might never get to hold Brooklyn while he slept, ever again.

He sighed, as he stopped at a red light, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

Well, there was also the distinct possibility that she might have already left him. The last phone call she had answered from him.... that hadn't been his best handling of the situation, really. He had heard her voice, and it all came crashing down on him. All the emotions. All the chances he had let slip past him with her, before. And he had found himself begging. Pleading. Trying to get all the words out, as fast as possible. Trying to make a coherent argument that she would listen to. Anything, to keep her on the line, long enough until he could pull himself together to be able to tell her how he felt.

On the phone, while she was in another country, on another continent was a shitty way to profess his love, but he had been trying to work up to it. He had been trying to express how he felt, how much she meant to him.

What was the foremost in his mind, was that she not take the chemical cocktail that would sever her physical reactions to him. He had already lived through it, when he knew there was an end in sight. And while the waiting had killed him, he had been willing to wait, because he knew...instinctively, he knew, just how good they would be together, when she was finally able to experience the same reactions he had for her. That there was even a possibility of going back to that, now that he had actually had the joy of having her in his life like that, was soul crushing. That she somehow thought that he would be satisfied having her in his life, just as a friend, when he knew that he was meant for her, was draining to the point that he felt like his knees would give out and he would drop, never to get up again.

Losing Brooklyn, even for six months, would be the death of him. He was sure of it. What was there to look forward to, if she were to cut him out of her life like that, in some misguided attempt to save him? All the plans he had been making... Out the fucking window, because she was determined to supposedly save him from himself.

As if he asked her to. As if he wanted her to.

The cold hard truth was facing him, that she may not be willing to claim him as hers, any more. That she didn't want to claim him as hers, any more. It was a concept that had his hands trembling slightly, and his mouth going dry, no matter how often he swallowed. The dryness was nothing compared to the desert he was facing, without her.

What's worse, was how dim the world was, right now.

Maybe it was the fact that it was January, but for some reason, all Steve could see was gray. Like the colors were leeching out of the world around him, bleeding into the drains like the polluted rainwater, choked full of oil and garbage. The world even tasted different.

A few days ago, hungry for something, anything that would help him hold on, he had made the chicken and dumplings Brooklyn had gotten so good at. He had followed the same recipe she did, finding the recipe online easily. He had followed the same steps he remembered watching her take. He bought the same ingredients that she did, when making the dish.

But the dish didn't taste the same.

There was an almost wrong flavor about it that had him pushing the bowl away after one bite.

Nat, who had come down to spend time with him, during his 'detoxing', had looked at him questioningly, before taking a bite herself, then frowned at him, asking him what was wrong. When he told her it didn't taste right, she looked at him like he was crazy, until realization flashed on her face, followed by sympathy.

It was easy to see, really, why the dish didn't taste the same. His Babydoll didn't make it for him. Childish, maybe. But true.

He pulled up at the school, winding the parking lot for a bit before finding a spot, climbing out of the vehicle just as the first kids were being signed out. He waited, a little impatiently he would admit, before he was able to get up to where he could sign Juliana out. The little girl was bouncing, her hair done up in curls with a bow keeping it out of her face, so adorable in her school uniform, while he checked in with her teacher.

"Ms. Bianchi is still not available?" Mr. Blackwell frowned, as he watched Steve sign the tablet he held.

"Just for a bit longer." Steve gave him a short smile. It didn't feel like a real one, and he was worried that the teacher noticed.

"Ah." The older man nodded, slowly. "Juliana was saying that she was sick?"

Steve paused, frowning now. "Sick?"

"Yes." Mr. Blackwell lowered his voice. "Similar to their father?"

"No." Steve was quick to say. "No, I don't.... she's not sick... She's just... she had to take a trip, and it's taking longer than she had planned."

"Ah." Mr. Blackwell said again. "Mrs. Marino was saying that Juliana would be going home soon. I know Juliana would be very happy for that to happen. She's been a little... sadder, than normal. Not the same happy girl I have come to expect in my class."

"Any issues with her behaviour?" Steve asked, concerned.

"Oh, no." The teacher was quick to assure him. "She's still getting her gold stars. I've just noticed... a little bit of sadness throughout the day. Usually during lunch time?"

"Brooklyn usually makes Juliana's lunch." Steve commented. "Mrs. Marino has been doing it, instead."

"Maybe that's it. Children this age can associate food with people, and comfort. While it's nice to know that the grandparents are taking care of her, sometimes its not the same as home food. You know how it is, a dish is never as good as your mother's."

Flashing back to the chicken and dumplings, and the image of Brooklyn smiling at him over her shoulder while she stirred the meal, Steve nodded. "I know how that is."

"Well, at least she's getting consistency with you picking her up, every day." Mr. Blackwell checked the pad in his hands, before nodding. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes." Steve turned to Juliana, holding out his hand. The little girl was quick to grab onto it, so tightly that Steve noted the white knuckle in her fingers. "You will. Shall we go, Sweetheart?"

"Yup!" She chirped, beaming up at him. "Bye, Mr. Blackwell!"

"Goodbye, Juliana! Have fun!" The teacher smiled and waved as they walked away.

Steve got them a little bit away from the teacher and the milling crowd of parents and students, before bending down and scooping Juliana up, holding her tight to his side, as he strode towards the parked vehicle.

"Have a good day at school, Sweetheart?" He asked gently, as he side stepped a mother fussing over a child's torn coat.

"Uh huh." She answered, looping her arms around his neck. "What're we gonna do today?"
"I thought we might go back to that indoor playground, again." He suggested, stopping at the SUV, pulling the keys out of his pocket to hit the fob, unlocking the doors, then reaching for the back door to open it. "That sound like fun?"

"Yeah." She nodded, while waiting for Steve to help her into her car seat. He gently maneuvered her into the vehicle, setting her into the waiting seat, before helping her take off her backpack, setting it down on the floor by her seat. She helped him pull the strap across her chest, assuring him it felt fine as he leaned over to latch it in place. "I have papers."

"Papers for what, Jules?" He asked, testing the latch to make sure it was secure.

"Permission papers. I get to go to a place with music." She frowned, tugging on his shirt. "Steve, it's good."

He had a moment where her words and tone hit in him the chest. She sounded so much like her older sister for that brief moment. "Yeah, sorry. Just need to make sure my girl is safe, that's all."

"I am!" She giggled. "I'm with you, silly!"

"Oh, so now I'm silly?" He teased, leaning over before leaving the car to press a kiss to her cheek. "I see how it is."

She was still giggling when he shut the door of the vehicle. Steve went around to the driver's side, sliding his large frame into the SUV, before buckling himself in and sliding the key into the ignition. "Here we go."

When trying to find something, anything, to do with Juliana, to extend the amount of time he got to have with her before taking her to Kitty and Marino, he had stumbled across the idea of 'indoor playgrounds'. A genius concept, in his mind. Basically you paid a fee, and your child was allowed to run around in various themed rooms. Each one was designed for interactive play, with other children as well as by themselves. Some of the ones he had looked at allowed parents to participate while others preferred that parents stay on the sidelines. Or even outside the building.

Not comfortable with the idea of not being there in the building with Juliana, let alone on the sidelines, he had settled on one in Brooklyn, which seemed to have good reviews on the internet, which was also not that too bad, budget wise. For a smallish fee, Juliana had access to the playground built inside the building for about two hours. There was even a cafe that sold drinks and small items of snacks, where parents could congregate if they were not interested in supervising their own children, leaving that to the people on staff. Steve preferred to keep a close eye on Juliana.

Her social skills had grown massively since starting school, but there were still times when she didn't quite adhere to the social norms that were apparently needed in group settings. He liked to be nearby in case he needed to step in to keep something from becoming a small misunderstanding, into a massive meltdown. Both from Juliana and the other children. But for the most part, she was quick to follow the other children in their play, before either striking out on her own, or attempting to take a lead. He was insanely proud of her for that.

He listened with half an ear, as Juliana began to go on one of her long winded explanation of every minute of her school day, while he let himself plan the conversation that apparently needed to happen. Juliana somehow got it into her head that her sister was sick, like their father. Maybe that was what she believed was the reason for Brooklyn's absence from her life right now. Steve could, on some level, understand the little girl's thinking. Bucky had been 'sick', and had left his daughters. Brooklyn had left, even if it had been with the intention of it only being briefly, and it was quite possible in Juliana's mind, that by leaving, that indicated that her sister was 'sick' as well.

He drove them to the indoor playground, easily finding a spot to park, despite the time of day. Perhaps the day of the week was the culprit, but Steve wasn't going to complain. He helped Juliana out of her seat, doing a quick search through her backpack, giving a sigh of relief when he found out that Kitty had sent 'play clothes' with Juliana to school. After the first few trips, with Juliana being taken back to Malba with a dirty uniform, the older woman had pinched his ear while giving him a stern lecture about making sure that Juliana was put into more fitting clothes, if he intended to take her out to play.

Holding the clothes in one hand, and Juliana's hand in the other, he walked slow enough that the little girl wasn't jogging to keep up. They entered the building, pausing at the available restrooms for her to change, before paying at the desk, getting the button timer that let them know how long they had. And then it was off to the races. Juliana went a little crazy, letting off all the excess energy she had built up from sitting in class. And he was more than happy to follow behind, helping her with a steadying hand when she went to climb something that was a little bit too high for her, by herself. He ignored the admiring and sometimes lustful gazes of some of the women in the area. More than once, one would come up and compliment him on his dedication as a father. And more than one of those women hinted that they would be happy to help him, if he wanted another child.

He would admit, that if the offer had come around before August, he might have jumped on it. But seeing as how the only woman he wanted carrying his children was in another country, and possibly getting ready to shut him out of her life and bed, he wasn't exactly excited to be propositioned. He sent them on their way with a short smile, and some explanation about how he was happily taken, but thank you.

By the time on the button went off with a flashing light, the little girl was pleasantly worn out. He elected to stop at the little cafe, ordering snacks and drinks to share, before herding her over to one of the more secluded tables in the room. She was sitting, munching on a cheese sandwich, while he drank his coffee, when he broached the subject.

"Jules?" He asked, setting down the coffee cup. "You wanna tell me why you told Mr. Blackwell that Brooklyn was sick?"

"Because she was." Juliana shrugged, looking down at the crust of her sandwich, playing with the crumbs. "She was sick like how she was, when we first stayed with Nonno and Nonna. She stayed in bed, crying. And Nonna had to make her eat, again. She didn't want to play. She didn't want to do anything. Then she went away. Like Papa did. Nonna said that Lyn was sick in her heart."

Heartsick? Steve frowned, the painful throb in his chest spiking. "But you know she wasn't sick, like your father, right?"

Juliana shrugged again, shaking her head. "They both got sick. And they both went away."

"Yeah." He sighed. "But she wasn't... she's coming back. She told us that, remember?"

"Lyn kept saying Papa was gonna come back. But he didn't." Juliana was picking apart the crust of the sandwich. "Maybe that's what she's doing now."

"She isn't gonna leave you behind, Sweetheart." Steve reached out, placing his hand gently on her hands, stopping her fidgeting. "She loves you, so much. You are why she kept going, after your Papa left. You know that, right?"

"Maybe she doesn't want me, any more." Juliana whispered, looking up at him with wet eyes. "Maybe she doesn't want us any more. Maybe we aren't gonna be a home to her any more."

"Oh, Sweetheart." He felt his heart crack for the little girl. "I know one thing. Okay? I know, that your sister isn't going to not want you. No matter what. She would move mountains, to be with you. Nonna told you she was helping girls go home, right?"

"Yeah. She had to get on plane and fly to another place, to take girls who were lost home." Juliana nodded. "But maybe she forgot to come home?"

"She didn't forget." Steve rubbed her hands. "I talked to her on the phone yesterday, after I took you back to Nonna's house. She said she was going to be coming home, real soon. And she told me she couldn't wait to see you again." Small lies, he felt, that were important if they settled Juliana's mind about her sister's absence.

"Are we all gonna go home? You, too?" Juliana flipped her hands, wrapping her fingers around his. He marveled, yet again, how small she was. Both hands barely covered two of his fingers. How the hell had someone like Bucky managed to have such delicate daughters? Jesus, Brooklyn barely reached to the top of his shoulders, and Juliana was barely almost to his hip!

"Yeah, we are all gonna go home. You, me, and Brooklyn." He said firmly, believing it with every fibre of his being. "Back to the apartment."

"good." Juliana nodded, with apparent approval. "I like spending time with Nonna and Nonno, but I wanna go home. They don't let me hit the button on the coffee in the morning. Nonno says its because the coffee machine is 'fucking expensive'."

"Juliana Therese Barnes!" Shocked, he lowered his voice sternly. "I don't ever want to hear that kind of language from you, ever again, young lady. That is an adult word. A very bad adult word."

She blinked at him, surprised. "But you and Lyn say it all the time!"

"Yes, and we are adults." He reiterated. "And someday, when you are an adult, maybe I'll let you say it. But until then, I don't ever want to hear that word come out of your mouth, you got me?"

"But-" She tried, but he cut her off.

"I asked you, if you got me?" He kept his gaze on her, trying not to be so stern that she burst into tears, but stern enough that she understood he meant business.

Sighing, she nodded.

"Words, Sweetheart." He pressed.

"Yes, Steve." She nodded again. "I got you."

"Good girl." He took a deep breath. "Are you done eating, or do you want to finish your sandwich?"

He rubbed his face as she went back to finishing her sandwich. God, he couldn't wait to see the look of vindication on Brooklyn's face, when he told her she had been right, all along about the swearing. For months, she had been working on hers, trying to clean up her own foul mouth, but he would be the first to admit that he maybe could have been working on curbing his own language a bit more. And look what happened. Juliana had picked up on it, just like Brooklyn had predicted.

Well, at least it hadn't happened in class. That was something small to be thankful for.

Even as he felt the smirk on his face, he felt the pain in his chest again. Brooklyn had to come home, for him to enjoy her frustration at him. For all his assurances to Juliana that they would all go home, they would be a family again, the nagging fear wouldn't leave him alone. There was still a lot of ground to cover, before that happened. Too much was still uncertain. There was still a real possibility that everything he told Juliana, to reassure the little girl, was never going to happen.

On the drive back to Malba, they hit traffic. Steve sighed as he watched the line of cars in front of them move slowly. In the backseat, Juliana giggled.

"Steve!" She laughed, "Put on my music!"

"Jules...." He groaned, regretting letting her know he had made her a playlist on his phone. "Really?"

"I wanna listen to the pony songs!" She grinned at him in the rear view mirror, all but begging. "Please?"

She looked so sweet, he sighed, as he picked up his phone from the holder on the dash. "Alright, alright. Just for a little bit, okay?"

"Okay!" She chirped, grinning at him some more.

He pulled up the music player on his phone, finding and starting the play list of songs from the animated pony show Juliana watched. The peppy poppy songs started through the speakers, and even though the sound at this level was a bit much, Juliana began to sing along, turning her head to watch the world outside her window.

He rubbed his forehead, but was happy she was content.

He just hoped he wasn't caught humming one of the overly happy tunes while around Stark.

Kitty met them at the door, after they arrived at the Marino's house. Juliana stopped at the step of the house, frowning, before heaving a too heavy sigh for someone so small, then went inside, taking her shoes off at the door, before dragging her backpack behind her.

"Dinner is in about thirty minutes, Honey." Kitty told her, before turning to face Steve, folding her arms up in her cardigan across her chest. "Are you staying tonight, Steven?"

He gave her a smile, but shook his head. "Not tonight. I have a lot of stuff to go through, before we head off in a few days. I've been a bit neglectful, this week."

"With everything going on, I'm not surprised." Kitty gave him a sympathetic look. "Do you want me to send some food over? It wouldn't be an issue, I'm sure."

"No." He bent down, giving the older woman a hug. "I'll pick something up on my way back to the Tower. I'll be fine."

"Okay." Kitty conceded, wrapping her arms around him to return the hug. "We'll see you tomorrow?"

"As long as nothing comes up." He assured her, stepping back. "Jules, I gotta go back to work."

"Do you have to?" She asked, a bit of a whine in her voice. "Why can't you stay here?"

He crouched down, making sure he was face to face with her. "I gotta keep the world safe, Sweetheart. So that I know that you are safe."

"But you are working all the time, now." She griped, frowning. "You didn't work this much when we were home."

"I know." He nodded, reaching out and brushing some hair out of her face. "And when we are back home, I'll make sure I'm home for dinner, every night that I can."
"Breakfast, too." She ordered, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his neck. "And after school."

"Of course." He wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight. "You just try to stop me. Be good for Nonna, okay?"

"Steve!" She suddenly gasped, and he pulled back to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "We forgot the permission papers!"

"Good catch, Sweetheart. Why don't you get them out, so I can sign them." He let go of her so she could scramble to her backpack, and he stood up. It didn't take the girl long to find the papers, rushing back to him. He took a moment after she handed them to him, looking them over. Standard permission papers, similar to those when she had been signed up to go to the museum. But this time for a performance at one of the nearby theaters. Music appreciation, it was called. He shrugged, and asked Kitty for a pen to sign.

Kitty brought him one, and he used the tiny table in the foyer to sign his name, handing the papers back to Juliana.

"There," he reached out, rubbing the top of her head. "Make sure to put them somewhere safe to return to Mr. Blackwell tomorrow, okay?"

"We'll make sure its done, Steven." Kitty smiled, reaching out and touching his arm. "Take care of yourself, okay? We need you back in one piece."

He gave her one of his patented 'I'm Captain America and I'm always all right' smiles. "No problem, Kitty. See you tomorrow."

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

Steve stormed down the gangway of the Quinjet, in a general mood of just... he was just in a bad mood. The mission had been, for all intents and purposes, a bust. There had been no activity, and there had not been a for a while, apparently. Simply an empty shell of a facility. But, despite all that, they had spent hours going over every inch of it, trying to find anything of value, information-wise.

Even that proved to be a bust.

What had been thought to be one of the scientific research facilities, and a possible staging area for Strucker, which might help lead them to Loki's sceptre, had turned out to be some sort of transport depot. They hadn't wanted to assume anything, when they first got there, seeing as how HYDRA was tricky sometimes in how they hid themselves. The abandoned bank in DC being a prime example of this. But despite all the scans and attempts to prove other wise, the buildings and outcropping huts were what they appeared to be. Oh, there were vehicles and repair shops, but it was nothing more than what it seemed.

So, Steve had to give up picking up Juliana from school, just to climb through scrap metal and invoice slips.

There was some minimal hope that the invoice slips might help them pin down a better general area for Strucker, and Stark seemed happy with some of the scraps they had found, but in the end, Steve was left with a feeling of being useless. That combined with the lack of sleep he had had the night before they flew out, as well as the fact that he had not gotten to spend his scheduled time with Juliana, put Steve in a rather bad mood, the minute they reached Stateside.

The lack of sleep the night before was something he would go through again, though, considering he felt like just maybe, he had made some headway into convincing Brooklyn to come home to talk to him. He had answered her call, his heart in her throat, and the words coming out before he could even really grasp what he was saying, but for the most part, he managed to keep his head on, and present what he thought to be a logical argument for them to be together.

It was the argument he should have been giving from the start, he realized, when her voice softened and she seemed to be actually listening to him.

Yes, there were still things that the two of them needed to work on. Yes, they weren't still settled, as far as their relationship went. Yes, the hope that Bruce would be able to find some way to make sure that both of them knew they weren't being manipulated. But for the most part, he had laid it out on the line, and told it to her straight.

He didn't care.

He didn't care if people around them thought she was manipulating him with her pheromones. He didn't care if he was being manipulated. He just wanted her back, back in New York and back in his arms.

He was hers.

That was the only real thing he could focus on. He was hers. He belonged to her. And yes, he would be maybe, possibly, occasionally, be willing to admit that her pheromones were playing a part in his desire for her to own him.

He hadn't dismissed her concerns about the pheromones affecting, so much as downplayed them a bit. Yes, Bruce and others might be concerned he wasn't firing on all cylinders, based on the outside interference, but the reality was, as he saw it, before all of that happened, he had wanted her. He had seen no reason to not pursue her, the minute the way was made clear. Even knowing she was Bucky's daughter had not stopped him. And yes, he would admit it might have been just a little bit on the predatory side, to move in the way he had, knowing that she didn't have any experience and was coming out of years of HYDRA control, but the simple fact was that he hadn't wanted to wait to see if anyone else would step in, in the meantime.

The need to keep her by his side had taken over every other objection he and others could think of.

Even her own concerns about him maybe needing someone less needy, less convoluted, less messy, had been a valid one. But so where his counter arguments. No one else he was gonna find was going to be as good a fit for him. She understood him, not Captain America, but Steve Rogers. She wasn't blinded by the shield. She would actually prefer it, he knew, if he wasn't Captain America. She would have rather preferred to have the kid from Brooklyn who didn't know when or how to quit.

It was that same kid that didn't know when or how to quit that was making sure she came home.

Everything that he had been trying to get out, in the past, finally came out right. He was able to actually put into words his need for her. In an actual coherent speech, one worthy of the title he carried. It was always a bit annoying, he had found, that when he was getting the troops geared up for battle, when he needed to inspire men to follow him, he was able to give the speeches that made that happen. But when it came to that tiny slip of a woman, the one that held his heart in her normally perfectly manicured hands, nails at the ready to tear it to shreds, his words failed him. Almost every time.

But now, despite the lack of sleep and the late hour, he had been able to express what he needed to.

And in the end, she had seemed to agree. She had given him a timetable for her return. And he could even respect her need to get her head on. For all that she had been given time herself, the reality was that as she was escorting those trafficked girls home, it was a distinct possibility that she really didn't have time to actually sit down and think, to consider all her options.

He had agreed to the extra time she had begged for, because what else was he supposed to do? He supposed he could have had JARVIS trace her call, down to the inch, while also putting a trace on her. He would have known where she was, every second of those borrowed days. But he held himself back. He needed to show her that the obsession, while still growing strong on his end, was not in control of him. But he had still left her with the promise that he would do what he needed to, to bring her back to him. What that would entail, he wasn't sure. But he was ready to find out, if she tried to disappear on him.

After the phone call, he had reflected on a few things. The first was that despite what he had felt before all of this went down, she wasn't still secure in their relationship. The best way he figured he could prove that he was in this, all the way, until neither one of them breathed any more, was to propose. He had always known, once he married, he was never going to be with another woman, ever again. He would commit himself to one, and do everything he could for the rest of his life to ensure she was aware how pleased he was that she had been willing to take him on. Brooklyn was that woman. When he thought of his future, he couldn't imagine ever having another woman by his side. At this point, he knew it was a permanent state. It was going to be Brooklyn, or no one else.

He didn't have a ring yet, the jeweller he was working with still sending over designs for him to go over. None of them felt right. Some were too big. Other's too small. Some had too many gems on the ring. Other's didn't have enough. Not a single one of them felt right for her small hand. His goal was simple. Once that ring was on her finger, he never wanted her to find a reason to take it off. Ever.

The second thing that he had to think about was the suppressors. That she still held on to the idea that she could, or should take them, was something that he needed to shut down. The best course of action, he figured, once they got their relationship settled, was to find out if she had any more vials hidden away, and where. Then go and remove them. If he gave them to Bruce to work on, or simply destroyed them himself was up in the air. His Babydoll was prone to over thinking, and acting without thinking, at the same time. If she got spooked again, he was worried she would immediately jump back on those suppressants so fast, he wouldn't know what hit him. The best strategy would be to make sure that was not an avenue she would be able to go down, even if he hated the idea of being so heavy handed with her.

The third was, and he would admit that this was a rather big point, that he apparently needed to spend more time making sure she didn't get any more radically wrong ideas. As soon as she came home, he was going to tell her that he was deeply in love with her. That he couldn't really breathe right, when she wasn't his. That the sound of her voice calmed his nerves. That her touch settled his body in a way that none of the drugs he had been injected with, when he was sick, all those years ago, were never able to do.

What they had was more than some animal mating instinct. It was the soul sharing love that poets and writers and composers of ages past had only attempted to put down on paper. What they had struggled all their lives to describe. What they had went beyond obsession. It went beyond time itself, even.

The closest he could use to describe what he felt for her was from the bible, and even that didn't feel adequate enough. Song of Songs was the only book that came close to what he was feeling, the words similar to how he wanted to profess his love to Brooklyn. It felt like one of the loves that would change the world. It had, at least a little. His world. The moment he had laid eyes on her, even if it had been in that club that reeked of too much perfume, too much alcohol, too much sweat, the sounds of the crowd and music almost an ice pick to his head, he had felt his world stop, then start again. He hadn't recognized it. He had never felt like that before.

So, now, as he went into the locker room, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower, and plan how he was going to attack the problem with Brooklyn, he was a little irritated to find Hill waiting for him outside the door, before he could even go in.

"Steve." She frowned, holding her tablet to her chest. "There was a delivery for you, while you were gone. It was cash on delivery, so I went ahead and paid for it. The boxes are waiting for you in your quarters."
"Delivery?" He frowned, reaching up to start taking his battle top off. "From who?"

"It was from Ms. Bianchi." She kept her eyes on his face.

Steve froze, his curiosity spiked. "Huh."

Maybe she had sent something from Europe? It was possible. But considering how she was still waffling on their relationship, it seemed unlikely. "I'll take care of it, after I take a shower. Thank you, Maria."

"Yeah." She nodded. Looking down at her tablet, she shook her head. "I'm sorry that the mission was a no starter."

"It happens." He shrugged, pulling off the top, looking over his shoulder at the door to the locker room. "Do you mind if we catch up in a bit? I just really want to get this gear off and take a shower."

"Sure." She turned to leave, calling over her shoulder. "I'll leave the paperwork on your desk."

"Thank you." He grunted, going into the locker, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck starting to lift. Why the hell had Brooklyn sent him a delivery. How had she? She was still not due back until tomorrow. He made quick work of the removal of his suit, before jumping in the communal shower, not wanting to waste time, since he was already there. Dressing, he shook the water from his hair before getting into the elevator, asking JARVIS for his floor.

The boxes were stacked in the kitchen area, right off the opening of his quarters. Going over, he frowned. The boxes looked old, previously used. Like they had been pulled out of the garbage. Duct tape held them together, the courier's tag holding the addresses on the top, covered in ripped plastic. The only information was that they were COD, and that they were to be delivered to the Tower. But other than her last name being visible, there was no indication of what was in them, or why they were sent. Reaching over to the knife block, he pulled out a steak knife, ripping into the tape holding the box closed. He opened the box, and the knife dropped from his hand.

Brooklyn's clean, earthy scent hit in him the face, stronger than any blast from Stark's repulsors. A quick sorting through the top layer of items revealed his clothing from the closet and the drawers in the apartment. A shoe box filled with the items from the nightstand, was sitting on top of the pile.

"What the fuck?" he hissed, narrowing his eyes as he tore into the second box. His shaving kit and personal items from the bathroom lay on top of his coats and sweatshirts and shoes from the living room. He didn't have to open the boxes piled next to the larger ones. Now that he knew these were boxes filled with his things from the apartment, he knew that those were the boxes he filed away the SHIELD and HYDRA files he was sorting through, usually while sitting at the kitchen table while his girls did their homework.
"What the fuck is she playing at?" He snarled, backing away from the boxes like they carried a live and rabid animal. "What the fuck, Brooklyn?"

He went for his phone, which was laying on the kitchen counter, his hands shaking as he pulled up her number, and hit it, waiting for the ringing to go to the voice mail. Instead she answered.

"Rogers." Her voice was short, clipped, almost emotionless.

"What the fuck, Brooklyn!" he hissed, feeling the rattling of the darkness deep inside him. He pushed it down. That would not help him right now. If anything it would make his handling of this worse. "Why the hell did you send my shit to the Tower?"

But the phone call went downhill from there. She apparently still wasn't in sync with him. She thought that she was doing him a fucking favor! Sending his things, in some misguided attempt to 'make things easier' on him!

The rest of the call was just a cluster fuck. Finding out that not only was she back in New York, but had been since that morning, and she was at the club, with the intention of putting herself on stage, along with the fact that she was taunting him (TAUNTING HIM!!!) with the fact that she might go give perfect fucking male strangers lap dances in private, chipped away at his control of the darkness inside him.

As soon as she hung up on him, after telling him to go find another Babydoll, he almost broke his phone, he was gripping it so hard. Taking a deep breath, set the phone down, before grabbing his jacket off the back of the stool, throwing it on, then shoving his phone and car keys into the pocket. Grabbing both boxes by the flaps, he dragged them behind himself, as he left his quarters, and entering the elevator. The entire trip down to the garage, he was clenching his jaw, trying to calm himself.

The darkness was getting closer.

He stalked out of the elevator, dragging the boxes behind him, stopping at the back of the SUV. After unlocking the vehicle, he loaded up the boxes, before slamming the tailgate down. Within a minute, he was in the vehicle, buckled in, and backing out of the parking spot.

The drive to the club was a blur. He was sure at one point he ran a red light, someone in another car honking at him, and he vaguely recalled throwing his hand out of the open window, extending his middle finger in response.

He slammed the SUV to a stop in front of the club, putting it in park and turning it off without thinking, slamming the door shut when he got out. Momo was standing at the door, alarm on the man's face.

"Out of my way, Momo." He snarled, every inch of his body starting to feel like it was vibrating.

"Captain, she told me..." The bouncer began raising his hands as if to calm Steve.

"I don't give a fuck right now, what she may or may not have told you." He informed the man, hotly. "Get the fuck out of my fucking way. Right the fuck now."

Momo, trying to be brave, which Steve would give him credit for, tried again. "Captain, if you go in there right now, and get involved, Queenie isn't gonna be happy."

"I don't give a fuck." He snarled, his voice almost hurting his throat with how deep it was going. "She never should have come back here. You never should have asked. That's my woman, in there, where god knows who could touch her. See her. You want to get in the middle of this? I'll break your fucking face. So. Again. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way."

The bouncer flinched, going white in the face, but was quick to get out of his way. As he passed him, Momo called out, "Be careful, Cap!"

"She's the one who's pushed it to this." He grunted, as he entered the club. The heavy driving bass of the song playing was pounding at him, and under all the scents of the room, he smelt her. The scent of her, all over. The back of his throat was tingling like crazy. It had been too long since he had been near her, he knew. Too fucking long.

The darkness and the flashing lights were disorienting for a moment, so it took him a heartbeat to realize that what he was seeing was not his twisted imagination, but reality.

Brooklyn was dancing.

He had known she was good. There was no way she was able to make the money she had socked away in that safe, in the months she had been working here, if she wasn't. Granted, she would be the first to admit that her youthful looks played a part. And right now? She looked like some schoolboy's or some rich old pervert's naughty dream come to life. Her shirt was gone, where he didn't know, but her breasts were at least still covered, even if the black lace bra was still skimpy enough he thought he caught a flash of her nipples. He noticed when the language of her body changed slightly. She knew he was there.

Not that it mattered to the hyped up crowd that separated them. He could taste their hunger on the air. Feel it beating against him like fists to the beat of the music. Wolves circled her, desperate to nip at her flesh. As innocent as she looked, he could easily imagine how they would mistake her for being the sacrificial lamb to their lust, instead of the Queen who would bring them all to their knees if given half the chance.

Going over to the side of the stage, he watched her as she attempted to see. He knew she was, by the way her eyes were darting around, trying to peer through the lights into the darkness beyond. Placing his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, trying to push the darkness down. Push it away. Ignore it.

And then, when she flipped on the pole, reaching for her skirt, he knew he had had enough.

He was done.
The leap onto the stage was like taking a step up a flight of stairs, for all the effort it took him.

She stopped, holding herself on the pole with her thighs, shock on her face, before her eyes narrowed at him.
"Get the fuck down, Babydoll." He snarled, feeling the anger pulsing in his veins. "We're going home."

She narrowed her eyes even more, and he noted how her fist tightened on her skirt, the snaps starting to strain. Then she opened her mouth.

"Go fuck yourself, Rogers! I'm not going anywhere with you!" She snapped.

The darkness roared through him.

Wrong answer, Babydoll.

Not saying another word, he turned and took the few steps needed to reach the back of the stage, gripping and ripping down the heavy velvet curtain, the rings at the top popping open as he did. Going back over to her, he noted she had shifted her body on the pole, so that she could watch him, shock starting to war with the anger on her face. He slipped slightly on the money on the stage, but managed to keep moving, as he gripped one of her arms, before yanking her off the pole. Before she could move, he wrapped her in the curtain, then bent so he could lift her onto his shoulder.

"Put me down!" She screamed. The music cut off, and as he jumped from the stage, ignoring her wiggling against him, he noted that some of the patrons had pulled out their phones. "Goddammit, you fucking Normandy Storming Neanderthal! Put me the fuck down!"

He brought his hand down on her ass, the velvet cushioning the blow, no matter how much force he had put behind it. "Shut your damn mouth! We're going home!"

"I'm not going anywhere with you! Fucking Idiot Asshole!" She intensified her wiggling, and he made sure to keep the arm wrapped around her thighs as tight as he could. "I should have cut your balls off the night we met!"

"I am so sick and goddamn tired of your fucking threats, Brooklyn!" He snapped, suddenly done with her mouth. "I swear to god, when we get home, I'm blistering your ass so red, you wont be able to sit for a week!"

"Always with the fucking violence!" She cried, anger in her voice. "Always have to be the big man, huh, Rogers? Did you treat your precious Peggy Carter like this?"

He stormed to the door of the club. He could see the phones following them as he passed the full tables. He knew he should be worried about that, but for the life of him, right then he didn't care a wit.

"I never had to take her to task." He answered, his voice still hurting from the depth of it. "Because unlike some women in my life, she never felt the need to push me to the fucking point of insanity!"

"Not like it would be that long of a trip!" She scoffed. "Fucking backwards barbarian!"

His eyes narrowed at Momo, who was still by the door. Let the man try to challenge him. He would break every fucking bone in the man's body, if he tried. Luckily, either the look on his face or the way he was holding his body told the man to get the hell out of his way. Momo opened the door for him, backing away as he came close.

"I'll.... I'll send her things..." Momo flinched when Steve snapped his eyes on him. "Have a good...."

"Seriously, Momo?" Brooklyn screeched. "You are just going to stand there while he fucking shoplifts me? Really? You aren't even going to try to call Mr. Marino?"

"No." Momo backed further away as Steve hauled Brooklyn out of the club like a old rug, tossed over his shoulder. "I'm not gonna get involved."

"Coward!" She cried, as Steve went over to the SUV, opening the passenger door. He put her down on her feet gently, before picking her up, somewhere around her waist, to put her into the vehicle. As soon as she felt herself in the seat, she began to try to wiggle out of the curtain still wrapped tight around her. Working quickly, he grabbed the seat belt, while pushing her firmly against the back of the seat, snapping the latch together, before tightening the seat belt around her. Satisfied she was as bound as he could make her, he reached down and made sure the the velvet around her legs was tight enough that she wouldn't be able to get her legs free.

It wouldn't do to have her be able to kick the SUV to pieces while he was driving.

"Let me go, Rogers!" She snarled, still trying to wiggle herself out of the fabric. "I swear on your mother's grave, I'm going to skin you alive!"

"Leave my mother out of this." He warned, narrowing his eyes at her again. "She was a fucking saint."

He bent his head, quickly pressing a kiss to her lips, before pulling away before she bit him and shutting the door.

As he climbed into the driver's seat, jamming the keys into the ignition as he did so, he noted that she was still wiggling. Given what he knew about her strength, he knew he didn't have a whole lot of time to play around, before she managed to get free. With time of the essence, he turned on the vehicle, and headed for the apartment, pressing down on the gas to go faster.

"You cock sucking dick snot ass wipe!" She grunted, as she tried to get her arms free. "Fucking brain dead, order following, sycophant!"

He bit his tongue, the copper taste of blood enough to help him focus. He wanted nothing more than to pull over, rip that fabric off of her, and remind her just how much she belonged to him. Maybe if he fucked it out of her, she would calm down enough that she would listen to him. But he knew, oh yes he knew, if he even gave her the opportunity right now, she would scratch out his eyes, while ripping out his throat with her teeth.

So, the apartment it was. Maybe there he could keep her corralled long enough to get through that thick head of hers.

The question was, was he gonna have to paddle her first, to calm her down enough to listen to him?

His hands itched.

It was a tantalizing, tempting thought. Bending her over the back of the couch, in that skirt that barely covered anything, making the flesh of her ass jiggle until it was as red as her cheeks were. Watching the fight leave her, as she relaxed and submitted to him. Maybe then, she would listen as he confessed his love.

He managed to get find a spot in front of the bakery before she managed to get free, but he knew it was close. She had managed to get the fabric down around her shoulders, and was gasping as she tried harder, the closer they got to the apartment. Putting the vehicle in park, he turned, frowning at her.

"That isn't going to help you, Brooklyn." He told her, still furious.

"How fuck brain damaged, do you have to be, Rogers!" She snapped. "You fucking kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapping means I took you from a place you were safe, to take you to a place where you were not. I removed you from a dangerous situation, and brought you home." He shook his head. "I fail to see how that's a problem."

"You fail-" She blinked at him, like he was insane. "You took me from my place of employment!"

"I brought you home, so we can fix our goddamned relationship!" He shouted. "I am sick and fucking tired of having to chase you, all over this goddamned fucking city, just to get you to fucking talk to me! It wasn't even that long ago we talked about getting our own place together! How the fuck has this fucking changed, huh? You know what? No. I'm not doing this in the car."

The hinges on the door protested as he shoved his shoulder against it while opening. He might have been a little to hard on it. But he stalked around the front of the SUV, the heat rising up in him making him feel like he was steaming in the night air. By the time he got to the passenger seat, Brooklyn had resumed her struggles to get out of the velvet that he had wrapped her up in. She was just about to get her elbow out when he opened the door. Quickly, he leaned in and unbuckled her, before grabbing the velvet and hauling it back up to her neck, tucking it in tightly. It wouldn't do for her to get herself free before he had her caged in the apartment.

That was the issue with being with an untamed woman, he reflected as he ignored her insults and threats, bending down to place her on his shoulder again. If you wanted to have a serious talk with them, when they were clearly trying to do everything in their power to rile you up, you had to keep them in an area they couldn't quickly escape from. While he had no doubt that if Brooklyn wanted to, she could break out a window and escape into the city streets, he had a feeling the idea of destroying her own home, simply to avoid talking to him was a bit on the extreme side, even for her.

He managed to get her through the bottom door, and up the stairs with little trouble. Oh, she wiggled, she cursed him out, she made threats of bodily harm to him. But for the most part, she was a peach.

It wasn't until he got her inside the apartment, stumbling over a pair of boots by the door, that he had his first moment of trepidation. His anger hadn't cooled. Oh, no, he was still raging. But he felt he was intelligent enough to know that the moment he released her from the curtain, he was basically letting go of a tiger from a cage. The question was, was she going to play with him first, or just go right for his jugular? The other question in his head was how far was he going to let her go, before he physically pinned her down?

There wasn't really a chance to plan out a strategy, he realized. He hadn't given much thought beyond getting her back to the apartment, getting her away from the men who were paying to look at her. His only instinct had been driven by the anger and jealousy that was driving him.

How dare she use the job he felt was beneath her to prod him! How dare she decide, out of pocket, that they were done! Hadn't he told her, time and time again, that no matter what happened, she was it for him? Hadn't he made it clear to her that anything the world and life threw at them, they made the choices together?

He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She hadn't been schooled on relationships, growing up. She didn't know the complexities of how to keep a relationship going, even when things started to fall apart. Hell, to be fair, neither did he. But one thing he was certain of, was that no matter what happened, if you were a dedicated couple, you didn't just shrug your shoulders, say 'oh well', and fucking send your lovers things back to their place of employment. By fucking delivery!

This was the place he felt the most home at. This was the place where he wanted to be, every goddamned second of every goddamned day! This was the place that he yearned for the moment he walked out the door! The comfort of a family, the joy of helping to raise a little girl, the absolute depravity that happened behind closed doors! This was as much his home now, as any place he had ever lived since his mother had passed away!

They had been together long enough that she should be goddamned aware of all of that by now.

And if she wasn't, then by the time he was done with her, she would be.

He figured the best course of action would be to just let her do what she needed to, block her if he needed to, but basically just wait for her to wear herself out, and to calm down, so he could confess his love. Maybe in the course of dealing with her anger, his own would dampen. The darkness was still there, hungry to bring her to her knees, to make her look up at him with submission. To make her understand that nothing on this earth, and nothing in heaven or hell, was ever going to separate them. He would fight God himself, or even any other god, to keep her by his side.

With that in mind, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and tugged the velvet curtain away from her.

Instantly he was holding her off as she started attacking him. She was quick, he would give her that. Her training was evident. She knew his weaknesses, but he quickly spotted her's too.

She had a tendency to overreach, when it came to her left side, leaving it open.

Annoyed that it had never been corrected, when she had been going out and fighting all of those fucking Russian mobsters, he made a mental note to bring it up and possibly work on it with her, before he took advantage of it. Dodging a swing aimed for his head, he ducked under her arm, before grabbing it, and holding it up. She used the momentum to swing her body around, impressing him with a move that had the heel of her shoe digging itself into his side. He managed to capture the other arm as well, holding them out as extended as he could. The position they were in, with her back arched against the angles that he held her arms at, and how she had tilted her hips back to dig the heel of her shoe into his side, made for a moment of provocative thought, on his part at least. It might be a position they could revisit in the future, once she calmed down and fucking listened to what he had to tell her.

He had already started readjusting how they would make the position work, in his head, his body reacting as it was constructed to do, when she noticed.

Jerking her head to glare at him over her shoulder, she frowned. "Are you getting a fucking erection, right now, Rogers? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?"

He grinned at her, feeling a little crazy. The darkness was nipping at his heels, driving him. That was the only explanation, as he bent his head down, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder.

She tensed against him, tugging slightly at her arms, trying to free herself, and he bit harder, trying to get her to stay still, to stay put. Instead, she shifted, her heel digging into his side a little harder, almost as a warning.

Unfortunately, it had the added effect of pressing her barely covered ass against his growing problem.

He groaned into her skin, feeling his anger start to shift into something else. He had the urge to let go of her arms, wrap one of his hands across her chest, while using the other one to pull back on her bent leg. He figured, if she leaned forward a little bit, and he bent his legs, with just a bit of adjustment of their clothing, he could be inside her within a minute. With the goal in mind, he loosened his grip on her, ready to put plan into action.

He found himself flying and landing on the floor before he could blink. She was on him with the next blink, her knee pressing on his throat.

"Seriously? This is what passes for a defender of the fucking world? It's a wonder we're not already speaking Asgardian or some shit like that, by now. Fucking useless, Rogers." She sneered, as she pressed her weight down a little more, causing him to choke. "Shit, they should have sent me out after you, as soon as you woke up. I would have you flayed open like a fish in less then five minutes, the way you handle things."

"Before or after I was inside you, Babydoll?" He asked, choking slightly. His hands came up to her hips, and he wondered how easily it would be to lift her up, bring her down on his hips, and work the stubborn out of her. "Because I think that you might have been a sure shot for that. HYDRA would have lost you a long time ago, if you had been sent after me. I never would have let you go. That's for fucking sure. Just like now."

"It's not up to you." She snarled. "And I would have ripped your head off and spit down the hole, before I would have let you touch me."

"I doubt that, Brooklyn." He grinned up at her. "Yeah, you would have fought me. But I would have had you under me in so short a time, your head would spin."
"Bullshit." She pressed down harder, and he felt his throat crush for a moment, before she let up. "Now, I suggest that you get your ass up, off my floor, and get the fuck out of my apartment."

She slowly lifted herself off of him, and he felt his fingers drag along the short skirt she had was wearing. Her chest had shifted in the bra she had on, either by the curtain that he had transported her in, or in the efforts of the little skirmish they had just had. But as she gained her feet, she backed slowly away from him, breathing heavily.

Her scent was stronger, now. He felt himself sucking in deeper breaths, himself, trying to capture as much of it as possible. "No."

"You don't get to say no. Get the fuck up off my floor, and get the fuck out." She shook her head, taking another step back, as he sat up.

"Not until you understand a few things, Babydoll." He slowly climbed to her feet, watching for her to go at him again. She was sneaky. She was fast. And she played dirty. He would watch that. He could even respect that. But there was no way he was letting her get the drop on him. Not when there was too much on the line to let her get the upper hand. "You and me? We have a lot to hash out."

"We have nothing to hash out." She snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "And could you get that thing under control?"

He followed where she was jerking her chin. He raised an eyebrow at the front of his pants. "I'm sorry that you feel I should apologize for something that has a tendency to happen around you. All the time."

"You could at least not wave it around like it's a fucking flag pole that you want to plant in the ground." She snarled.

"I'm not waving it around." He shrugged, feeling his lips curl. "It's put away. Besides, there's only one place I want to plant it."

"Not happening, Rogers." She shook her head, backing away another step. "Not ever. Not again."

"Oh, Babydoll." He crooned, feeling the challenge she was giving him. "Don't' say things you don't mean. It's hurtful."

"I'll show you hurtful when I break it off at the base and shove it so far up your ass that when you ejaculate it comes out your nose!"

He felt the palms of his hands start to itch. The urge to grab her and bend her over the back of the couch, to paddle that pert ass of hers red was strong, but he pushed it down. There would be more than enough time for that later.

"I've told you already, I'm getting pretty sick of your threats, Babydoll." He warned her, narrowing her eyes. "Don't keep pushing me."

"I'm fucking pushing you out the goddamned door!" She snapped, leaning forward, twitching slightly.

If he read her right, she was about to have another go at him. And while it was tempting, considering her skirt was barely hanging on, and her bra was shifting too much, if they had another tussle, she was going to end up all but naked. And if that happened, he was going to be derailed from his goal.

"Before you start to come at me, trying to knock me down, why don't you go put on something that will allow you to do that, without putting your pussy on display?" He suggested, taking a deep breath, enjoying the tingle at the back of his throat. "Unless you want to fuck it out? I mean, I'm not opposed to the idea. It might calm you down."

She made a sound similar to a muted shriek, while stomping her feet. "Goddammit, Rogers! Fucking Idiot Asshole!"
"Clothes, Babydoll." He waved a hand at her, telling her to go to the bedroom. "Get that done, and we can talk all about this."

She sneered at him, as she turned and stomped down the hallway. She slammed the bedroom door behind her.

"And don't think you aren't gonna get a spanking, for the way you've been playing this whole thing!" He called out, loudly, while allowing himself a small smile.

As soon as he was alone, he took a deep breath, and began to work on pushing the dark down. Push it away. Cool the rage. Tame the urge that was driving him to pin her down, paddle her ass, and then work her idiocy out of her head in a more... pleasurable method. Once she was a puddle of pleasure from the orgasms he would work out of her, sweaty and compliant to him, it would be so much easier to bring her to heel.

He didn't want to break her. Not completely. He enjoyed the fire and fight in her. The fact that she gave as good as she got. The fact that Brooklyn would wasn't afraid to put him in his place, for the most part, when he stepped out of line. Or the fact that she was very fond of telling him what she thought of his mental capacity.

But, he mused, as he turned to start pacing, while that would be a very fun way to bring this to a close, he was savvy enough to know that anything said post-orgasm was immediately suspect. Even Brooklyn would find it hard to believe a man who had just poured his soul into hers, as he poured open his heart as well.

That was fine, he nodded to himself. They would talk it out. Maybe have another little fight. And when he had her worn out, and focused on him, he would tell her.

He paused at the counter, bracing his hands on it, as he closed his eyes. But if he was going to finish this, in a way that made it impossible for her to ever try to walk away from him again, if he was going to ensure their future, if he was going to make sure she knew that he was so deeply in love with her that there was never going to be another woman who would ever have his attention like her, he was going to have to calm himself, first

Sucking a few deep breaths, pushing the dark down, tamping it down, holding it back, he pulled all his internal strength together. He had to remain firm. He had to remain calm. He couldn't allow her to goad him again, like she had about her working at the club. If he lost his shit again, he would be sloppy. Sloppy would not convince her he was being real. It would not allow her to put her full and complete trust in what he was saying.

Feeling himself relax (granted, being surrounded by her scent again helped, and goddamn it, he was never going to ever complain about that tingle in his throat again), he opened his eyes and took a deep breath, looking down at the counter as he lowered his head.

His breath left him in a whoosh.

Two empty syringes were on the counter.

The caps were still on them, but they were empty, a small amount of cloudy liquid in each of them.

His brain stuttered to a stop, before he felt everything drain out of him, as if someone had pulled a plug somewhere. Deflated, he sagged against the counter. There was only one reason for syringes to be on the counter of a woman born with the healing abilities of a super soldier. One reason, why Brooklyn Barnes would have used syringes on her counter.

She had taken the suppressants.

He had lost her.

It was over. Done. Nothing he was going to say or do, was ever going to bring them back to where they were, before this. Yes, it wasn't permanent. Six months wasn't the end of time.

But it was long enough for him to know that he would be dead in his soul. He could maybe convince her to let him stay near her. Let him remain in her life, if only for Juliana. He would maybe allowed to be near enough her that he could lie to himself and say that he was seeing more.

Six months.

Six months without tasting her, or holding her, or loving her, or waking up with her in his arms.

If he had thought the past two weeks were torture, he couldn't imagine the reality of what six months was going to feel like.

Why? Why had she done it? He had begged her, pleaded with her, to not do this. To not cut him out. To not shut that natural part of herself away. Had she been so desperate to protect him and every other y chromosome bearing mother fucker in the world from herself, that she had made a drastic choice to chemically castrate herself?

With those empty syringes, he also knew his luck had run out.

He had been considering himself lucky that he had found her, when he did. That he could ease her into the idea of them, before the reality of them came true. He had been lucky, in finding her at all, really. His luck had served the purpose of allowing him the ability to try to seduce her body, so that he could seduce her heart. He had been so close, he was sure she was in love with him. She had to have been. Otherwise, the knowledge of the pheromones would not have hit her so hard.
She had argued, more than once since their separation began, that her pheromones were somehow taking away his consent, taking away his freedom. All of that, coming from a woman who had once stared at him, and declared him as her property.

But without the ability to seduce her body, whatever tenuous grasp he hand managed to get on her heart was gone. Nothing had been cemented. Nothing had been concrete.

His luck was gone, and so was his future. He had lost her, as surely as he had lost those seventy years in the ice. His only hope was to be right there, when they began to wear off again. And hope that Bruce managed to somehow fix everything, since now he had more time to work with the suppressants.

She came back into the living room, having put on a zippered hoodie that fell to her thighs. She still had those damned shoes on, and he was pretty sure she hadn't actually put any other clothing on. He was certain, given the amount of time she had spent in the bedroom, that besides taking down her hair and putting it in a low ponytail while putting on the hoodie, she had found and smuggled a weapon out of the room.

But he didn't care.

She stopped a little way into the living room, planting her feet, and putting her hands on her hips. "You need to leave."

Sorrow filled him. Grief for everything he had lost, and everything he would never have began to pull him under. Under the darkness was an abyss, and he was starting to sink into it.

Staggering over to him, he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around her waist and press his face into her stomach. He inhaled as deeply as he could, feeling the tingle at the back of his throat, and mourning its incoming loss. How long did he have? How long before that tingle disappeared? How long did he have, before she shut down on him, completely?

Again, he was reminded of how shitty his timing was. It was over. He had lost. But the words still needed to come out of him.

"I love you." He pressed his face harder into her stomach. "I love you, Brooklyn Marie Barnes."

A/N: *takes a deep breath* How are we doing? Comment and vote!