February rained and froze into March, which started off just as cold. Brooklyn had decided she was done with winter in New York, altogether, when the sun began to return on a more regular basis. While it was nowhere near being warm enough for her to not bundle up in everything she could, even to go down to the bakery, the air was sending messages that spring wasn't far away. The trees along the streets and at the park were turning a strange color of brown, with a haze of green and yellow, if you looked just right.

Brooklyn had caught up with her schooling, now keeping in step with her fellow students. They were gearing up for the GED test, due in another couple weeks. She felt like she was going to pass with flying colors. She had taken to going over things from past lessons, making sure she understood the material. Steve had been more than happy to help her beef up her understanding, as well. Marcus had been happy to help as well, working with her when they weren't going over the weekly numbers from the various interests and businesses that she had control over.

For the most part, she had been able to remain hands off of everything. The crew Marcus and Mr. Marino had helped her put together were able to run pretty autonomously. Only a few issues had come up, that had called for her personal attention.

There had been a bit of a turf disagreement with some of the long standing rival factions, over her assumption of control of Brooklyn. It had been quickly settled with a rather polite exchange between her and the heads of those rival factions. Granted, her version of polite was not what Steve considered to be polite. Which he had made very clear, when she had explained it to him. Apparently, holding her sword to the throat of a man who had a good foot on her, while outweighing her by a hundred pounds, before kneeing him in the throat, and threatening to remove his family jewels did not constitute 'polite'.

Whatever, it got the job done.

Chad had mysteriously disappeared, a few days after the altercation in the hallway. And his buddy's gym, the one he kept pushing on Steve and other residents of Carroll Gardens, had burned down the same day. Sad really. She understood it was the buddy's only form of income. A body had been found in the ashes, but it had so far been unable to be identified. Between the fire, and some kind of mutilation, it had been difficult to establish any sort of defining feature.

As she understood it, the police were assuming it was the person who had set the fire, having gotten caught in the flames of their own destruction.

A single mother recently separated from her abusive husband, and her twelve year old son, now lived in the apartment under Brooklyn and Steve. Out of respect, Brooklyn had asked that the ceiling have extra sound proofing added. Since Chad's revelation that he had been able to hear everything that had been going on in the bedroom, Brooklyn felt it only right that the mother and son NOT be unwilling participants in Steve's best efforts to make her lose her voice.

For the most part, life in the apartment building had calmed down.

Steve had been true to his word, he wasn't pushing. He wasn't demanding. But he kept asking. In the morning, before he left to go to the Tower, he would kiss her gently, bring her left hand up to kiss the back of it, and whisper, "Marry me."

When he came home, he would smile, hold her tight, kiss her temple, and breathe, "Marry me?"

After sex, before he cuddled her close, stroking her as she recovered from her soul nearly shaking itself from her earthly bonds, he would exhale, "Marry me?"

He was giving her time to think. He wasn't pushing.

But he was definitely not above constantly reminding her what the question was.

For all his asking... she didn't feel pressured. At least not by him.

Kitty considered it a done thing, having informed Brooklyn that she had already talked to the priest of their church, reserving a day in the latter part of June, and was already in contact with a wedding planner. She had dresses lined up for Brooklyn to try on. Bakers ready for cake tasting. Caterers ready to discuss meal plans. Musicians and DJ's ready to meet to talk playlists. Florists getting orders of flowers ready, so that centerpieces and bouquets and boutonnieres could be made with quick notice.

Mr. Marino was already planning a dowry, old fashioned as it sounded. Brooklyn would not be married off without the proper price tallied. He had explained, patiently, that since Steve had done the proper thing, and come to him requesting permission to ask Brooklyn to marry him, as the man who had assumed the father role for her (since her father had yet again proven to be difficult to find), it was only right that he give Steve the proper respect in giving him a dowry. A bride-price.

Brooklyn had taken particular objection to the idea that she was being sold off like a goat, but Mr. Marino would not be moved on it.

Mrs. De Luca even acted like Steve was her fiance. She was more respectful of the man, treating him like a long lost son, every time she encountered him. She had brought over cakes and cookies, explaining that since Brooklyn's cooking skills were still lacking, it was up to her to make sure that Steve remained of a healthy weight.

The businesses in Carroll Gardens acted like they were already married, giving tribute or sending free things to Steve. He had gone to pick up the suit he had worn on Valentine's day, which he had dropped off, since it had been soaked through in sweat and secretions and semen, only to have the dry cleaner wave off his money, indicating it was nothing for the future intended of the Boss.

Even her men were showing deference to Steve. Too often, if they were out, and ran in to each other, they would bow their heads towards him, like she had seen men do to the wives of their bosses, averting their eyes. They would interact with him on a level of respect that threw both Brooklyn and Steve. If they had to call her away, in the middle of the night, they would always send their respectful apologies to 'her Mister', as they had taken to calling him.

Steve wasn't pressuring her. But everyone else around her seemed to be.

Only Wilson and Romanoff seemed to be in her corner, understanding her issues and listening to her try to work it out in her head.

Wilson had sat down with her, soon after Valentine's day, and when she admitted that she was torn, and why, he was kind as he smiled and told her it was okay. It was okay to be scared. It was okay to not know what to do. It was okay to be confused.

Marriage, according to Wilson, was a huge step in a relationship. It changed people, not matter what they might claim.

And it was okay to be scared of that possible change.

No one was gonna force her to marry Steve, he claimed. Not even Steve would do that. Steve just wanted her. In any capacity. Wilson explained that while Steve wanted her as his wife, wanted to start a family with her, wanted that whole white picket fence-dog in the yard-Sunday dinner life... he wouldn't force it on her. He would take her, how ever he could keep her. If Brooklyn turned him down, Steve would be okay with it. More than, really.

Because he loved her.

He wanted the rest of it, because... that's what people did. People who were in love got married. They settled down. They set up a house somewhere. They had a family. Because that was what people in love did.

But that didn't mean that she had to accept Steve's proposal of marriage.

Wilson had made that very, very clear.

She didn't have to marry Steve, if she didn't want to.

The problem was... she sort of did.

She sort of wanted to tie him to her, in every way possible. She wanted to own him. She wanted to have some way to prove that ownership. She wanted to have him in her life, until she drew her last breath.

More and more, she was wanting to live that life that Steve often described. Marriage, children, a home of their own. A quiet life, where no one could hurt or judge them. The fact that she was even contemplating children was enough for her to pause.

When she had brought that up to Wilson, he had sat back, blinking. The mention of her maybe considering the possibility of one day thinking about having children with Steve, had rendered him mute for a bit, as she watched him sit while his brain ticked over. It was a real admission, on her part. To even admit to considering anything of the sort, when she had made it clear, almost from the start of her relationship with Steve that she would never feel comfortable with the idea of pregnancy.

But there were still other things that held her back from out right accepting his proposal.

First and foremost... she was well aware of what her father would think, if he came back and found her inexplicably tied to Steve Rogers. Papa had made it very clear, in that hotel room in Poland, that Steve was not what he would consider a fitting mate for his beloved Baby Girl. It wasn't Steve's morals, or character that Papa objected to, those were more than acceptable. It was Steve's tastes in the bedroom, the way he engaged women, that Papa objected to. It had been shame, and fear, that had stilled her tongue from admitting to her father that she had never minded how Steve and her...engaged... in the bedroom. If anything, she loved it. But between her father's distrust of his former friend's intentions when it came for searching for him, and her own shame and fear of disappointing her father, she had not told him about her relationship with Steve.

Second was her own fear. She had told Wilson that she loved Steve, and she couldn't imagine that ever changing for her. But... nothing said that it couldn't change for him. She had seen it, growing up, between some of the guards, agents, nurses, doctors. Falling in and out of love, so easily. Heard how a wife and family could become a millstone around a man's neck, dragging him down, turning affection into hatred. How could she stand it, if one day those brilliant blue eyes turned to her, with disgust, hatred, or worse, indifference in them?

It would be pinning every hope, every dream, every chance at happiness on one person, one place, one act. She had learned, since gaining her freedom, to put her trust in people. To believe that they would do nothing to harm her. That for the most part, people wanted to help other people. As much as she loved Steve, and knew he loved her, the final step of full trust was a hard one to take. Giving him the final keys to her kingdom, so to speak, so that there was nothing holding him back from burning it to the ground if he ever decided it was not for him.

She was certain that there was no other man on this planet that she would ever choose over Steve, that could make her fall out of love with him, that could make her want to give him up. He was hers. She had chosen him.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't change his mind. Couldn't change his heart. That maybe, some day, he would find a woman who was less complicated, less demanding, less insane.

The third thing holding her back, was fear of another kind.

Fear of losing Steve, of seeing it on the news, as Captain America fell in battle.

It was this fear, above all other things, that held her back from wrapping her arms around him, and saying yes. Fear that she would take her first steps in life as his wife, only to watch in high definition color, live, as she became a widow. Watch as the reason her heart had defrosted died. The fear that she would have to learn to sleep alone again, not because of her own actions, but because of something she couldn't protect him from.

Because as much as Steve claimed he wanted the quiet life, the dream life people talked about, he would never settle down. He would never stop fighting. If the stories her Papa had told her, before they were taken from his memory and his lips, were true, Steve had come into this world fighting, and fighting would be the only way he would be taken out of it. Steve Rogers would never be content, unless he was throwing himself into the nearest fight. Either because it was the right thing to do, or because it was the necessary thing to do.

If she agreed to marry Steve, she would have to acknowledge, going in, that she and whatever family they might one day have, would always come second to the battle. To him picking up the shield and wading in, because that was who he was. It wasn't the serum that made him that way. He had been born and bred like that.

And one day, it would lead to his death.

Steve was burning so bright, even after nearly seventy years on ice, that one day he would go up in flames.

If she married him, she would watch it happen, and be left with empty arms, a cold heart, and a bleak future. And she wasn't sure if she would be able to live through that. To be Captain America's Widow.

The odds of him surviving to see the birth of his first child, at the rate he was willing to go, were slim. The odds of him living long enough to get to a point where he would have to retire naturally, were even slimmer.

And Brooklyn was tried of making bets with her life. Not enough of them had paid out.

Wilson seemed to understand this, and accept it.

Nat, on the other hand...

For all her being so down to earth, a lesson learned by many child assassins who manage to make it to adulthood, Natasha was apparently also a bit of a romantic at heart.

She had also apparently been there when Steve had chosen the stones for the ring that currently sat on Brooklyn's finger. She had seen the care he had taken, to make sure that the colors were right. She had heard how he had described her to the jeweller. She had witnessed the hope that Steve had, while ordering the completion of the ring, not even giving a fig about the cost.

Nat had been the one to ask Steve what he would do if Brooklyn ended up refusing to marry him. She had borne witness to how he had insisted that even if he did not end up with the promise of a wife after everything was said and done, he would still have her. He would still have Brooklyn. Asking was merely... trying to make things legal and formal.

Steve's logical arguments for them to get married were sound, according to Nat. As it stood now, Brooklyn would be barred from seeing Steve, if he were to be seriously injured. If he were unable to make decisions himself, regarding his own medical health, she would not be allowed any input. If something were to happen, and Brooklyn and Juliana were found out, Steve might not be able to convince the rest of the team to help her, simply based on 'she sucks my cock on a regular basis, and I kinda love her'. If Brooklyn was Steve's wife, she would be afforded every protection the Avengers, and quite possibly the country itself, could possibly provide.

The other legal ramifications of being married also stood as logical. Right now, if she were arrested, and charged with anything to do with the mafia, Steve could be compelled, forced, made to testify against her, seeing as he had been there almost from the beginning of her becoming fully involved. Any conversation they might have had, regarding her involvement, including information on the deaths or disappearances, were free game for the authorities and prosecution. Brooklyn could very well end up spending a fair amount of her life in jail, just because she had shared her life with him. And since they effectively lived together, anyone with half a brain would rightly assume she had either not hidden her activities from him, or that she actively shared them with him.

Brooklyn herself wasn't sure how this worked. It made no sense that anything she and Steve talked about, in regards to her activities with the mafia, would in fact, be off limits, the moment he put a ring on her finger.

Which was why she was currently parked outside a nondescript law office in Hell's Kitchen.

She rotated the ring on her finger, looking up at the building, while trying to get up the courage to go in. Going in meant she was giving more credence to Steve's legal argument than she should be.

It also didn't help that Steve was gone, again. Off in some part of the world, searching for Loki's Sceptre. The Avengers had started to focus more on Baron Wolfgang Von Strucker, hoping to smoke him out into revealing himself. Some of the information they had gathered on other missions had started to help them narrow down possible targets into the single digits.

Brooklyn had resisted the urge of gaining more information, herself. Mainly because she didn't care. If Strucker lived or died, or tried to take over the world, she didn't care. She was done, as much as she could be, with as much of her HYDRA past as possible. Holding on to it was detrimental to her mental health, according to Wilson. It was bad enough she had a form of PTSD that was... interesting to deal with. Also according to Wilson.

The only interest she had in the Avengers finding Strucker, and possibly the sceptre, was in the possibility that Steve might slow down, if only for a while. That he might only be needed, in cases of extreme world danger.

That he might remain hers, for a while longer.

Reaching up, she flipped down the visor, opening the mirror to check her appearance, then shut it. She looked... proper? Not formal, but not a bum off the street. She had dropped off Juliana at school, and driven here. So she still had her PTA mom facade on. Perhaps that would be helpful. Maybe these lawyers would be more willing to talk to her, even if she payed, seeing as all she was really asking for was a bit of legal advice, if she looked as non threatening and as normal as possible.

People usually trusted other people, when they adhered to the prescribed societal norms. Even Steve admitted it.

Brooklyn would also be the first to admit that when Steve wasn't around, she felt like the world was dragging her down. Juliana apparently felt it too, the way she had dragged her feet getting ready for school today. The little girl had acted like she was still half asleep, even as she entered the class room, yawning the entire time. Brooklyn knew it had nothing to do with actual sleep, seeing as how the little girl had gone down to bed, and stayed down, the entire night. Combined with how their household reacted to Steve's absences, Brooklyn was also willing to guess her sister was about to go through another growth spurt. Or her inherited abilities from their father were about to start kicking in. Brooklyn tried to remember if she reacted the same, when it happened to her, but her memory was a little hazy through the memories of pain and blood and fear. All they could do, Steve kept reminding her, was be there for Juliana when it happened. Be prepared to help her control herself, if her body became alien to her.

Taking a deep breath, then slowly letting it out, she reached for the handle on the door, opening the car, and sliding out. She looked around, automatically, making sure she wasn't drawing any undue attention, then reaching into the car for her messenger bag, looping it over her neck and shoulder, before shutting the door and hitting the fob in her hand to lock it.

She reached up with one hand, pulling the hood of her jacket up against the light rain that was falling. March may be teasing spring, but winter was still trying to hold on.

Brooklyn had to appreciate the irony of winter still keep a hold of her life, right now.

She nodded at the man who was leaving the building, speeding up her step when he held the door for her, slipping into the building, checking the building directory and heading for the stairs. She supposed she could take the elevator, but she wasn't so far gone and sloppy as to allow herself to be captured in a metal box with strangers. There was no scenario that worked out well in her favor if she had to defend herself. Stairs gave her room to move as much as she needed to, if something happened.

She reached the floor she needed, opening the door, letting it shut behind her as she readjusted the strap of her messenger bag so it didn't dig into her neck, causing Steve's collar to press into her skin uncomfortably. Brooklyn watched the doors as she passed them, coming to the one she needed, taking a deep breath and raising her hand to knock on the door next to the glass panel.

After the first knock, she heard a polite, "Come in!"

She entered the offices, pausing when she saw a youngish thin blonde woman fussing with a printer. She turned to smile at Brooklyn.

"Do you have an appointment? I don't think I missed anything, but with those two, you never know." She approached Brooklyn. "I'm Karen. I work for Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock."

"Brooklyn Bianchi." she took the proffered hand. "I was hoping to get some legal advice. I can pay for their time."

"Let me see if the boys are available." Karen smiled again. "Do you have a preference?"

"No." Brooklyn shook her head. "I've never actually done this, so I don't know what to expect."

"They're harmless." Karen shrugged. "I'll be right back. Have a seat."

Brooklyn sat herself in one of the mismatched chairs, sighing softly, as she began to play with the ring on her finger. She was well aware it was a new fidget. Wilson had mentioned it. Nat had watched her do it, while tilting her head in assessment. Kitty thought it was cute. And Steve... Steve would watch her do it, and smile, usually before kissing her sweetly.

She honestly didn't know what she was doing here. If the lawyers agreed to talk to her, they might answer her questions. They were going to want information, most likely. So they could give her the right information she needed. But what she was going to do with that information was what was up in the air. Say that Steve was correct, and marrying him provided him with the protection from giving any information against her, was that really enough of a reason to marry him? If Steve was also correct about the medical thing, was that going to be enough to sway her? Nat had confirmed the protection from the team, if she married Steve. Wilson all but told her, married or not, Steve was still going full steam ahead on the search for her father.

What other benefit, other than the fact that she wanted nothing more than to have full ownership over him, was there to marrying him.

Steve, by his own account, confirmed that if she said no, nothing between them would change. He would still come home every night, as much as he was able to. He would still help her raise Juliana. He would still love her, still want her. He would still want the family he envisioned with her.

Marriage was a formality she didn't see the need for, really.

Karen came back, holding a coffee cup. "They have some time, if you want to follow me?"

Nodding, Brooklyn stood, following the blonde. "How long have you worked for them?"

"Well, I.. they helped me. I was framed for a murder. I was their first case." Karen smiled at the memory. "To pay them back, I kinda came to work for them. And really, they needed me. They can be a bunch of absolute messes, sometimes."

"I'm beginning to think that describes the male of the species, as a whole." Brooklyn mused, smiling herself. "They are either too dumb to know it, or too confident with it to change."

"Or worse, both." Karen laughed, leading Brooklyn to a small room. There was a table in the middle, with chairs surrounding it.

A round faced man, smiling kindly was standing at the end of the table, his hand outstretched. A dark haired man was sitting at the table, a soft, strange smile at the corner of his lips, his eyes covered by red sunglasses.

"Miss Bianchi?" The round faced man asked, taking a step forward, as she took his hand. "Foggy Nelson. Karen said you were asking for legal advice?"

She looked over her shoulder, to see Karen leaving the room, before she returned her attention to Mr. Nelson. "Yes."

"And that you were willing to pay." He grinned wider.

Brooklyn retrieved her hand from his, and reached for her messenger bag. Opening the flap she reached in and pulled out a bundle of money, setting it on the table. "Two thousand enough to by an hour of your time?"

Mr. Nelson looked at his partner. "Cash, Matt."

The dark haired man nodded.

"That'll be fine, Miss Bianchi." Mr. Nelson turned back to her. "Would you like to have a seat? Can we get you a cup of coffee?"

"No, thank you for offering." Brooklyn took the offered seat, lifting her messenger bag to her lap, folding her hands over it. "I appreciate you taking time out of your day to talk with me."

"Perhaps you can tell us why you need advice?" The dark haired man, Mr. Murdock, asked, raising his head.

"Do I have that... attorney privilege, thing? Where you can't tell anyone what I'm telling you?" She asked, blinking slowly. "Do I have that lawyer client thing? Since I paid?"

"Yes." Mr. Murdock answered.

"No." Mr. nelson corrected. "We haven't taken the money yet."

"Foggy." Mr. Murdock said. "We are her new attorneys. We took the money."

Mr. Nelson blinked at his partner. "Since when do you care about the money?"

Mr. Murdock shrugged, that small strange smile on his face. "She just needs advice, Foggy. We can give her that. Please, go ahead, Miss Bianchi."

"My boyfriend asked me to marry him, and one of the reasons he gave me involved the legal system." She began, twisting the ring again.

"If your boyfriend is trying to blackmail you-" Mr. Nelson began.

"No." She cut him off shaking her head, before frowning. "That might not have been the best way to begin. I used to be a dancer at a club, owned by Mr. Marino."

Mr. Murdock shifted. "Italian mob boss."

"Yes." Brooklyn nodded. "But my... job title changed, at the end of August. I have... skills, from my childhood, that were of use to my employer. It helped that they had taken me in, when I came to New York, with my sister. They treated us like family. So when a situation arose... I offered to be of help."

"Look, we don't want to get involved with the mob." Mr. Nelson was looking at the money sadly. "As much as we appreciate your predicament-"

"Mr. Nelson, that's not why I'm here." She sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead. "My boyfriend used the argument that if we married he would not be able to be used against me, if the authorities decided to look into my associations and my business. I was wondering if that was true, if he was protected by marriage as much as he claims I would be."

"How long has be been aware of your activities, Miss Bianchi?" Mr. Murdock asked, his head barely moving, and it clicked with Brooklyn.

"You are blind, Mr. Murdock." She stated. But there was something else, something that was making her want to pay attention to him, keep him in her line of sight.

"Yes, Miss Bianchi." He bent his head slightly. "Does that matter?"

"No." She smiled. "I just noticed it. I'm getting sloppy. I should have noticed the moment I met you."

He nodded once. "I see. Again, can I ask how long has he known?"

"Since I came back from a trip in August." She answered. "He... He wasn't exactly pleased with it. There were rules, put in place."

"Rules to protect you, or him?" Mr. Nelson asked, frowning.

"Me, I think." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm just really asking for advice."

" And maybe a prenup drawn up." Mr. Murdock smiled.

"A prenup." Brooklyn blinked, put a little of step. "Why would....Oh." A prenup, to protect her assets in case of a divorce. Or Steve's. That would make sense. But she honestly did believe... even if he fell out of love with her, Steve would never condone a divorce. Once he married, it would be death till they parted. Steve would never.... so, yeah, in practice a prenup would be needed. But she didn't ever think it would be used. "I don't think...."

"A prenup would be a good idea, Miss Bianchi." Mr. Murdock pressed. "I'm sure my associate and I would be more than willing to draw one up for you. Granted, your possible fiancé would, of course, have to come in and sign it."

"He doesn't know I'm here." Brooklyn bit her lip. "I don't think he would be upset with me, for coming. But... I don't want to... well, drag him into all of this... if I don't have to. My ignorance is mine."

"Miss Bianchi... if I may be bold?" Mr. Murdock turned his head towards her, giving the impression he was looking at her. "Your future Fiance might have other thoughts. Spousal immunity only covers so much. As of now, anything he witnessed or heard, is fodder for the DA. Anything that happens once you marry, is privileged, even after a divorce. Now, an argument can be made for the time he started formally living with you, arguing that there would be no way for him to avoid knowing anything. But you mentioned rules?

"I wasn't allowed to kill anyone. I had to come home, no matter what I had to do to make that happen. And I had to leave as much of it as possible up to the authorities." She sighed. "The problem with the last one, is that there never seemed to be... I couldn't make the contacts, to leave it to them."

"Was that the only rule you broke?" Mr. Murdock asked, shifting. Something was still off about him... nothing overt. Nothing that was setting her back up... but just.. something she couldn't put her finger on.

"No." she admitted. "A few months back.. I was helping free some girls, from the Russians... One of the girls had been...She was dead. I lost my temper. I left a mess. My boyfriend was... he understood, based on my past, why I did what I did. But It caused bigger issues for me later."

Mr. Nelson made a sound in his throat, a cross between a choke and a gasp, and ended up coughing. She watched as he cleared his throat several times, his face a little on the pale side. She blinked, before looking at Mr. Murdock, who remained almost smiling.

"Was that too much information?" She asked, a tad worried she might have given too much away.

"No." Mr. Murdock assured, still smiling. "Any information helps us to make sure we have our bases covered, in the event we have to defend you."

"Mr. Nelson?" She turned to look at him. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat again, nodding. "Yeah. Just... a mess? As in.. dead?"

She sighed. "Yes. Dead. It caused issues."

"And your boyfriend, he is aware of all of this? What you did?" Mr. Nelson frowned, turning to reach for a bottle of water from the pack on the floor, opening it up, and taking a deep drink, clearing his throat after he lowered the bottle.

Brooklyn sighed. "Yes. He was aware of all of it. He originally thought he could protect me, I think, because of... well his job. He's connected...in a way. But... than... Mr. Marino recognized me, formally, as his adopted daughter. I was.. elevated, within the organization. And now... My boyfriend is concerned that no matter how far I stay away from things, I'll become a target for the authorities, themselves."

"And you want to know if marrying him will give him the protection from being forced to testify against you." Mr. Murdock concluded. "I think I've explained that."
"It's not just that. Steve, my boyfriend, he says that if something happens to either of us, marriage will allow the other to make medical decisions for the one incapacitated. And if something were to happen to me, he would be able to gain custody of my sister. That the both of us would be protected, better, if I were to marry him." She shifted, and noticed that Mr. Murdock seemed to track her movements.

"New York law usually observes the rights of the spouse, when it comes to medical decisions." Mr. Nelson allowed. "Being the assumption that spouses have the best interests at heart, when it comes to such things. As well as the assumption that spouses have already discussed matters like that, before hand."

Brooklyn thought about the conversation Steve and her had about what to do with her body, if she ever died. The promise she had extracted from him, in regards to it's immediate disposal, to keep interested parties from harvesting anything biological from it. That she didn't want to become the new catalyst for another generation of Super Soldiers, even if she was dead.

"I can understand that." She agreed, softly. "Those are not pleasant conversations to have with someone you love."
"But necessary." Mr Nelson butt in. "I mean, you guys should have a plan, in case something happens to you. You said you have a sister?"

"Yes." Brooklyn swallowed. "She's five. My father is currently unable to care for her, but we have hope he will be able to rejoin her life, before too long."

"And if you marry, and something happens to you, you are hoping to be able to leave custody to your husband?" Mr. Murdock asked, cocking his head.

Her heart beat a little louder, at the thought of Steve as hers. Swallowing again, and taking a deep breath to control the reaction, she nodded. Then blinked, realizing her misstep. "Yes, sorry."

"We can draw those papers up, as well." He paused. "If you want us to, Miss Bianchi."

"I guess I will have to keep you guys on retainer, is that it?" She smiled, a little amused. "No pressure, right?"

"Well, we here at Nelson and Murdock like to make sure our clients are always satisfied with our services." He smiled, a little more... male.

Huh. Shit.

"Do you mind opening the window, a smidgen? I just think a little fresh air might be a good idea." She suggested, blushing. Fucking pheromones. Apparently Mr. Murdock was a little more susceptible that his partner. She would have thought that she had more time, before they would effect someone.

"Sorry." Mr. Murdock responded. "Window's don't open."

"Matt." Mr. Nelson frowned. "They open just fine."

"It's still winter." Mr. Murdock countered. "And it's raining."

"A drizzle." Brooklyn shot back. "Nothing to be worried about."

"It's pouring now, Miss Bianchi." Mr Murdock turned his face to hers. "I'm sure you understand."

She narrowed her eyes a moment. "Strangely, Mr. Murdock, I feel a little warm. The open window would be a great help. It might be that time of the month for me."

Lies. She still wasn't menstruating. Steve had mentioned he had noticed she hadn't. Doctor Gibson was running tests, but the prevailing theory from both Doctors, Gibson and Banner, was that with her body currently still learning how to produce hormones in the right doses, as well as her still fluctuating weight, she might be a bit from having 'the female troubles' as Steve had put it while discussing it with Banner. For the most part, Brooklyn didn't care. From what she understood, it wasn't pleasant for the woman having them. And most women didn't engage in sexual relations, for various reasons.

She didn't see a need to stop having fun, for any reason. The longer she went without having a menstruation cycle, the better, as far as she was concerned.

Mr. Murdock looked like he wanted to continue to argue, but Mr. Nelson went over to the window, opening it a crack.

"Thank you, Mr. Nelson." Brooklyn smiled at the man. The cool air was helpful. "Any how. Yes. So, is your advice then to marry, to protect Steve?"

Mr. Murdock stood up, slowly walking towards Brooklyn, his hand brushing the tabletop. "If you want. If you feel he is pushing you towards something you don't want... Well, there are ways to avoid that, as well."

"I just want to be happy." She admitted, softly. She watched his hand, as it slid along the table. There was something familiar in his fingers. Not that she would ever think she had met the man. But something... in the way they were. It looked like he had had more than his fair share of broken fingers... His hand had a few bones that looked like they had been broken too. His wrist... there was an oddity in the formation of the bones that peeked out beneath his shirt cuff, that looked like they might have been out of place... "Do you do much fighting, Mr. Murdock?"

He paused, and cocked his head to the side. "I occasionally hit the bags at the gym."

"Hmm." she pursed her lips.

"Matt likes to keep himself in shape for court." Mr. Nelson joked, clearing his throat. "He doesn't get out much, otherwise."

"Pity." She followed the line of his arm up to his shoulder. Dislocated, at least once, most likely several times. Small scars, healed well, but still there, on his face. In fact, there was a shadow of a healing bruise one his jaw near his ear. "Sometimes a good fight is all a man needs. Keeps the blood going, you know."

Mr. Murdock continued on his path towards her, stopping near her shoulder, and.. was he trying to loom over her? Really? Jesus fucking Christ...

"We will be more than willing to be of any legal service you require, Miss Bianchi." He told her. "In any matter you face, we will be more than willing to represent your best interests. You have my promise."

She slowly blinked. Than nodded. "I usually don't hold with lip service and promises, Mr. Murdock. But, if the firm of Nelson and Murdock are willing to work with me, than I will accept." She kept her voice light, non threatening. "That would please me."

He seemed to go rigid for a moment, when she spoke, then nodded. Swallowing, and taking a deep breath, he grinned. "We'll draw up the agreement. We will need your personal information, of course. For billing purposes."

Brooklyn turned to smile at Mr. Nelson. "Of course. I understand."

"Yeah. Great. Matt? Wanna help me, buddy?" Mr. Nelson jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I don't know if I have the right contracts."

"I'm sure you can handle it on your own, Foggy." Mr. Murdock turned to face his partner. "I'll keep our new client entertained, while you get it all squared away."

"Matt, I really think you should come help me." Mr. Nelson began slowly moving towards the door to the meeting room. "I just really think it's a good idea."

"Foggy." Mr. Murdock spoke, almost indulgently. "Go draw up the contracts. You've got it."

Mr. Nelson heaved a sigh, shaking his head as he left the room.

Brooklyn whipped her head towards Mr. Murdock. "You... yeah. There's more to you than just a lawyer, isn't there?"

"Brooklyn...do you mind if I call you Brooklyn? I'm a simple lawyer." He smiled, showing the edges of his teeth. "Just like you are a simple... what would you call it? Vigilante?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, standing up, fidgeting with her ring. "I call it doing the right thing. Doing the thing that no one else seemed to feel the need to do. Those girls were going to be forgotten, as soon as they were sold."

She walked over to the window, hoping the fresh air would dilute her pheromones.

"It was admirable." He nodded, tracking her with his head. "I just don't think a lot of people would go out and do that."

"Maybe." She allowed, folding her arms. "But it needed to be done. And I could, so I did."

"I can respect that." he turned, letting his fingers of his other hand trace the table top, as he walked closer. "Like I said, admirable."

She began to hum softly, trying to resist the urge to fidget. With her ring, with her hands, resisting the urge to bring her knuckles up to her jaw to pop them.

He paused, frowning softly. "Are you religious?"

"What?" She blinked. "Not hardly. Why?"

"The tune you are humming." he gestured towards her. "Saint Patrick's Breastplate."

"I'm sorry?" She felt confused at the abrupt turn the conversation had taken.

"It's a prayer. Written by Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. The one famous for driving all the snakes out of Ireland." He cocked his head. "Where did you hear it, if you aren't religious?"

"...it's..." she took a deep breath. "A memory, from my childhood. I didn't know what it was...just something about binding myself."

"'I bind unto myself today, the strong name of the trinity. The invocation of the same, the three in one and the one in three.'" He took another step closer. "It's a prayer for protection."

She felt her self gasp in a breath of air, before slowly letting it out. "A prayer for protection."

It made sense. Something from his childhood, that he had somehow held onto. An Irish prayer for protection. For all that they had gone through, her father had still been reaching out to the God that had abandoned them. Asking a Saint for protection. Even when the words had been lost to him, he had remembered the tune, and he had taught it to her, even if he hadn't known it.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she nodded, even if Mr. Murdock couldn't see it. "Thank you for that, Mr. Murdock."
"Matt." He smiled. "I think you can call me Matt. After all, you sort of confessed to murder."

"I never said I killed anyone. Explicitly. I simply indicated he was dead." She cocked her head to the side. "It won't work, Matt."

"What?" Now it seemed his turn to be surprised.

"I love my boyfriend." She shook her head. "Even if I don't marry him... It won't be because I don't love him. Part of my issue lies in... well, the God of my father. I don't believe. My boyfriend... he does. In his own way. It's not so easy for him to go to Church, to partake in the worship, the way I think he wants to. But... I feel like I would be a liar, from the get go, if I stood in a Church and pledged myself to him in front of a God I don't believe in. Or at least one I think turned his back on me before I ever drew breath."

"A relationship with God can be complicated." he grinned, almost self deprecatingly. "I can testify to that."

"But you believe?" She asked, giving up on trying to keep herself from fidgeting. Papa would have her ass, as bad as she'd gotten about it, lately. She went back to playing with the ring on her finger. "You believe in God?"

"I believe in forgiveness. In redemption. In the divine punishment." He slowly edged closer. "I believe that even in our darkest hour, He hears our prayers. And sometimes He even answers them."

She hummed noncommittally. "Perhaps."

He was nearly right beside her, and she heaved a sigh.

"I think you should know-" She began, ready to finally push him down. It couldn't be allowed, him all but stalking her. He wasn't being disgusting about it. Or even disrespectful. But it was clear he was... interested. But before she could, the door to the room opened, and Mr. Nelson returned with a file in his hand.

"Got them." He held the file up, before slapping it down on the table. "Shall we get started?"

He didn't say anything about the lack of space between her and Mr. Murdock, for which Brooklyn was grateful. Awkward was not something she wanted to deal with, today.

She returned to her original seat, as Mr. Nelson began going over the contract with her, pointing out clauses and such, breaking it down to simple terms for her to understand. She filled in the personal information he requested, noting how Mr. Murdock's head twitched when she gave up her address and phone number. He had taken a seat closer to her, leaning on the table, with an arm laying on it. He wasn't pressuring, or pushing. Just... slightly invading her space.

It went quickly. Apparently it was a standard contract between client and lawyer. Soon, she was signing her name on the spaces indicated, and handing the papers back over to Mr. Nelson.

He went over them, making sure everything was correct, before tapping them on the table to even them out, and sliding them into the folder. "We'll get a copy of this to you, before you leave. But, congratulations on hiring the firm of Nelson and Murdock for your legal needs."

He offered her his hand, and she took it, letting him pump the shake one time, before withdrawing her touch. Mr. Murdock cleared his throat, offering her his hand as well, and despite her misgivings, she took it.

His hand was calloused, too much for a paper pushing lawyer. She could feel the old breaks in his hand and fingers under his skin.

He was not what he said he was. She was sure of it.

He gave her hand a soft squeeze, before letting her pull her hand away.

"Okay. So, if you give Matt and me some time, or at least a little heads up, if you decide to accept the proposal, we can get a prenup drawn up. Simple one, in the case of a divorce, everything you own now will return to you in full, he has no claim on anything, maybe even an alimony payment. Standard things." Mr. Nelson tapped the folder on the table. "But we have given you the best advice we can, in regards to the legal protection offered by marriage. It's still up to you, though."

"Even if you don't want to marry him." Mr. Murdock smiled, resting his hand back on the table. "Perhaps we can take you out to dinner, to celebrate? It's not every day we sign a client who wants to keep us on retainer."

"Matt, I'm sure Miss Bianchi has other plans tonight." Mr. Nelson frowned.

"I do. I would like to be home, in case Steve gets done with his business early, and makes it home tonight." She smiled, grateful for Mr. Nelson for giving her an out.

"You never said what your boyfriend does." Mr. Murdock frowned. "We are your lawyers. It might be... pertinent, to the advice we might give you in the future."

She nodded. "Do I still have client privilege?"

"As of a few minutes ago, we became your legal team." Mr. Murdock tilted his head. "You can basically tell us anything."

"Steve Rogers is my boyfriend." She took a breath. "I guess you can say I'm Captain America's girl."

Both lawyers sat silently. Mr. Nelson's jaw was slowly dropping, until his mouth was hanging open, with his eyes going wide. Mr. Murdock had a blank face, but his hand slowly closed into a fist.

Mr. Nelson seemed to recover first, snapping his mouth shut, and clearing his throat, blinking hard. "I'm sorry. But... do you have any proof?"

"Uh." She blinked. How was she supposed... Ah. Yeah, that. "Something, yeah."

She reached up, tugging on the collar of her shirt, pulling it down, exposing the collar Steve had put on her, reaching in to flip out the pendant. "I also have texts... a voice mail? We don't... we are trying to keep things quiet. If you can understand?"

Mr. Nelson looked hard at the pendant. "It's a jewelled replica of his shield, Matt. Not cheap, either."

Mr. Murdock seemed to let out a slow breath. "I see. Well, not really, but yes. So, you are the good Captain's girl. How does that work?"
"Amazingly smooth." She blinked. "He is willing to make it work. I want it to. So, we make it work."

"Odder couples have come about." Mr. Nelson stood up. "Let me go get these copied, for you. I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Mr. Nelson." She bent her head once, watching him leave.

"The mafia princess and Captain America." Mr. Murdock joked dryly. "Odd couple, indeed."

"Queen." She absently corrected. She was thinking about how she had admitted she was Captain America's. She hadn't hesitated. She hadn't had to think about it. It had just come out, so easily. She hadn't rejected the idea. When had that started? When had Steve's title stopped mattering? In fact, despite mattering at all, it had felt... right... "I'm a Queen."
"There was chatter... a few months back..." Mr. Murdock sat up straighter, slowly. "Of someone known as Queenie... who was going after the Russians... That was you."

She blinked at him, before narrowing her eyes. "You seem to have you finger on the pulse of the underground, if you heard any chatter about that."

He rocked his head. "You hear things, here and there."
"Yes." She took a deep breath. "You do. Sometimes, it's better to ignore those things. For everyone's sake."

He grinned, a half grin of personal amusement. "I'm not good at ignoring things. Besides the Devil is in the details."

"Yes." She agreed. "It is."

"So, Captain America asked you to marry him." He mused, pursing his lips slightly as if tasting a lemon.

"He loves me." She exhaled. "He wants to marry me. I don't... I love him, so much. I'm willing to... well, even consider marriage."

"You are right." He nodded. "There are things that you will not be able to do, for him, or with him, if you don't marry him. The medical issues aside. Marriage is an umbrella that... well, it covers a lot of sins."

"Are sins something you concern yourself with a lot, Matt?" she asked softly.

"More than I should, I sometimes think." That smile was back, the one that seemed to indicate he found something funny.

"I have a friend. She has a saying. 'Don't borrow tomorrows problems. Enjoy today's rewards.' I've taken it to mean, simply, let tomorrow take care of tomorrow. don't miss out on what's happening today." She cocked her head. "Live life to the fullest, because tomorrow is gonna come to you, no matter what you do."

"Sounds like you should take your own advice." He raised his eyebrows. "Or are you saying that you are putting off giving him an answer for any other reason, but because you are scared of tomorrow?"

"Oh, there's more involved." She shrugged, than felt foolish when she remembered he wouldn't be able to see the movement. "There's... I guess you would call it history. Between him and my past. Sometimes... well, I guess I worry I'm not going to be the right girl for him. Even after everything else we've been through."

She rested her left hand on the table, looking at the ring. "But he loves me. And I love him. He is mine, and I am his. It begins and ends with each other. If that makes sense."

Mr. Murdock reached out slowly, putting his hand on hers, his fingers finding the engagement ring. "Maybe that's all you need? Although, I warn you. That sounds strangely like faith."

"Maybe." She turned her head, looking out the door, seeing Mr. Nelson returning. She gently pulled her hand out from under his. "Maybe it is."

Mr. Nelson returned, holding a manila envelope in his hand, thick with the copy of the papers she had signed. "Here you go, Miss Bianchi."

He set it down gently in front of her.

"I guess..." he looked a little lost. "I don't... I mean.."

"If I agree, I will contact your firm. So you can start work on the prenup Mr. Murdock has been so convincing of." She reached for the envelope, standing up. "If that is all you gentlemen need from me, and I need from you, I guess we are done for the day?"

"Yes." Mr Murdock smiled, an honest smile. "We are, for now."

"Thank you for your time, gentlemen." She slipped the envelope into her messenger bag, hearing the buzzing of her phone. Frowning, she reached for it, her frown deepening even more, as she saw that Juliana's school was calling her. She hit the button, sending it to voice mail, intending on calling the school back as soon as she was out of this office. "If you will excuse me, I need to go."

"Actually, if you don't mind?" Mr. Nelson asked, making her pause. "I just... I have one question...?"

"Go ahead." She waited.

"Is... I mean.. how..." he cleared his throat. "What's he like at home?"

"Ah." Brooklyn shook her head. "He's a man, like any other. He leaves the toilet seat up, too often for comfort sometimes. He leaves his dirty socks on the floor. He scratches, and farts, and burps, just like any other man. But, he's my man. So..." She shrugged.

He looked a little crestfallen. And she felt bad.

"He's a good man." She tapped her chest. "Here. And that's what really counts. Good day, gentlemen."

She left, shifting the messenger bag to a more comfortable position, waving a goodbye to Karen as she passed her, bringing her phone up and hitting the number to return the call to Juliana's school.

She held the phone to her ear, as she started going down the stairs at the end of the hall, waiting while it rang.

"Hello, St. Francis Academy." The chipper voice answered. "How may I direct your call?"

Brooklyn frowned. "This is Brooklyn Bianchi? My sister is a student there? Someone was trying to call me?"

"Oh! Yes!" The voice became urgent. "Someone has been trying to get a hold of you, and Mr. Rogers. I'll transfer you over to the nurse's office!"

"Nurse's office...?" Brooklyn asked, as the line beeped, than beeped again, before it was picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello?" the harried voice asked. "Who is this?"

"Brooklyn Bianchi, my sister is Juliana Bianchi?" Brooklyn paused on the stairs. "Why was the nurse trying to get a hold of me?"

"You sister threw up in class." The voice took on a calmer tone. "She also has a fever. She says she doesn't feel good, and looking at her, I believe her."

"What?" Brooklyn didn't understand. "I don't.. What?"

"She's sick." The nurse explained. "I'm not a doctor, but the symptoms indicate the flu. It's been going around, lately. You need to come and get her, as soon as possible."

Brooklyn stood there, feeling like the world was starting to shake all around her. "Sick? But she..." She snapped her mouth shut. "I'm on my way. Right now."

"I'll have her ready." The nurse promised. "See you, in a bit."
Brooklyn hung up, staring at the fading screen of her phone, biting her lip. Panic filled her. Without thinking she pulled up her contacts, hitting the number as soon as she saw it. Raising the phone to her ear, she began running down the stairs. It rang once, twice, three times, before the voice mail picked up. Listening to the message, she tried to take comfort in the voice, before the beep indicated she leave a message.
"Steve, I know you are busy, I know it. I'm sorry. But call me, as soon as you get this. Please." She took a deep breath. "Juliana is sick. I don't know what to do. I'm scared."

She burst into the lobby, ending the call and shoving the phone into her messenger bag, running across the tile, and out of the door. Not paying attention, she darted to her car, pulling out her keys with shaky hands. Unlocking it, she jumped in, jamming the keys into the ignition, throwing it into drive as soon as it was on, and driving out into traffic, ignoring the honks that greeted her.

She didn't care. She had to get to Juliana.

She wasn't going to lose another sibling.

She wouldn't fail her father like that.

A/N: I know, i know, i'm tweaking timelines a bit. I'm sorry! Brooklyn needed to talk to a lawyer! and yeah, i'm sorry about a whole lot of things! Vote and comment!