Juliana was dead to the world when Brooklyn carried her up the flights of stairs to their apartment.

Eighteen hours in a car could do that to a child, she supposed. Brooklyn had listened to the radio for a while, somewhere near the middle of the day, but when breaking news of Avenger activity in Korea had come on, she had taken a deep breath, and turned it off.

She didn't want to hear about it. Steve would tell her, when he came home.
They had left the Barton home maybe a couple of hours after Steve and his team had flown off. Despite Laura trying multiple times to try and convince Brooklyn to stay with her, Brooklyn felt it was better to return home. After everything that had happened, she needed the comfort of her own safe space to process things. Plus, she had been correct when she told Laura that Steve would come home first, before looking anywhere else for her, and she wanted to be there when he did.

The added bonus that it allowed to her to try and get Juliana back on her own schedule was also a deciding factor.

As she maneuvered the little girl out of her clothes, and into her night gown, before sliding her under the sheets and tucking her in, Brooklyn considered her own bed, before sighing. She turned on the night light, made sure her sister was truly out, and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. As much as she wanted to crawl into her own bed, she needed to unload the car. She needed to bring everything in, and put it away. If, for any reason, she got pulled over and her car searched, she would have a hard time explaining several of the weapons and gear, especially the ones which still held traces of her HYDRA past. With Steve being gone for god knows how long, it would not be so easy to call him up and ask him to come throw his weight around to keep her from being arrested.

Plus, he didn't need the distraction of her getting into trouble right now, not if she wanted him home in one piece and without a scratch.

God help anyone, or anything, that damaged him.

She stopped, holding the bags on her arms, taking a deep breath as the darkness nipped at her heels.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn't try to fight it

If he came home to her damaged beyond repair, or worse- didn't come home at all, she would burn the world in retaliation. She would lay siege to every country and every government that had ever turned their backs on him, and on what HYDRA had offered. She would soak in the blood of anyone who defied her. The metallic tang of blood would become her new perfume, soaking so far into her olfactory system that she would forget what anything but blood smelled like.

If Steve didn't come home, she would need it to keep from ripping her own heart out. The scent of blood would help chase away the phantom scent of him from her life, or she would reach into her own chest, rip out the offending organ that would insist on beating without him there to keep it warm, and crush the tissue and cartilage that kept her alive. She would offer it on the grave marker they would raise in honor of him, leaving it there, while she finally bled out.

She figured if she did it right, she would have about two minutes before her body suffocated from lack of blood and oxygen flow. That would be more than enough time to complete her last task.

Pops would make sure her body was properly disposed of. So, there was no worry on that front.

Maybe if she was dead, the darkness that remained of HYDRA would finally die out as well.

She took another deep breath, coming back to herself, pushing the darkness back in the box she had created for it, clearing her throat as she shut the tailgate of the Volvo, using the fob in her hand, before re-entering the apartment building. She took the stairs slowly, using each step to measure her breaths, until she was secure in the knowledge that, for another day at least, the darkness was quiet.

She dropped the bags inside the door, turning to go back down to collect the rest of the things.

As soon as it was done, and she locked the apartment door behind her, she stood for a moment, looking at the pile on the floor and, heaving a sigh, she began to put everything away.

Steve had never called her out on her need for organization. Perhaps he understood, after his time in the military about the idea of 'a place for everything, and everything in it's place'. Granted, her need for it came from her years in HYDRA, where the things you wanted to keep safe had to be put away that way. Books hidden between mattresses. Foodstuffs hidden in pillowcases. Toys hidden where they could be. Bricks loosened to hide things behind them.

Hell, one time Papa hid a knife in the toilet, as far down the u-bend as he could.

It never lasted of course, not once they started freezing her alongside her father. Waking up in a new place every time put a damper on their ability to keep permanent objects around.

But now, with her own home, her own place, she was able to keep what she wanted, and how she wanted it.

Finishing up by sliding her fighting gear under the bed, she sighed, rolling to her feet. The exhaustion she felt tugging at her was something she could ignore, if she wanted. But since everything was where it should be, including the money, fake IDs, and gun having been put back in the safe, she was willing to let it take her. A quick change out of her clothes, and into one of Steve's worn shirts from the laundry basket, found her sliding into sheets and blankets that smelled of her lover. She checked the alarm on her phone, making sure it was plugged in, before rolling over and wrapping her arms around his pillow, sighing as the scent was stronger there.

Either because of his continued use of the pillow, or the sweat and oils from his skin, she didn't care. It was a comfort. A comfort she took as she slid into sleep.

A sleep so deep she missed the text that came through a few hours later.

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

"Going to Sokovia. Picked up a few new allies. Love you, Babydoll. Be home soon."

She snorted again, looking at the phone, before setting it on the counter, and turning to open he fridge, looking inside, not hungry but needing to eat.

Brooklyn picked up the container of potato salad that the grocer had delivered last week, before she had been told to run. Prying off the lid, she brought it up and took a sniff. It smelled okay.

Shrugging, she shut the fridge with her hip, she pulled a fork out of the drawer, before shuffling over to the kitchen table, where her laptop was set up. She took a bite of salad, doing her best to try to ignore the television that was playing in the background.

When she had dropped off Juliana at school, one of the parents had come up to her, and told her that everything would be fine.

Brooklyn had ignored it, nodding with a smile, before escorting Juliana to her classroom. As she had passed one of the open doors to another classroom, she had seen the news.

And felt her stomach drop.

Sokovia was flying. Literally flying in the fucking air. Rising higher and higher.

She had smiled at Juliana's teacher, barely remembering to say anything, other than to appreciate the fact that he was not playing the breaking news. He had reached out, put his hand on her shoulder, and patted it, informing her that he was going to be having usual classes today, seeing no reason to disturb his students with things that might not be understood.

Brooklyn had nodded again, knowing what he was saying without him saying it.

Mr. Blackwell knew that Steve was Captain America. And he knew how much Juliana loved Steve. If something went wrong, he would not force a little girl watch as that man was taken away from her.

Kissing her on the head, Brooklyn told her sister she loved her, before leaving and deciding it didn't matter, ran the way back to the apartment, up the stairs, and into the door, diving for the television.

She had stood there, for several minutes, not believing what she was seeing, before taking a deep breath, and gaining control of herself.

Nothing would help Steve by her pushing herself into a panic.

He was there. She was here.

She would be here, when he came home.

And she had to have faith that it would happen.

So, after taking that moment, she left the television on, and decided to check on her college website, to make sure the payment had gone through, and her classes were enrolled correctly. If she let that slip, and missed the chance to start Spring Quarter on time, Steve might be disappointed.

Turning her head, as she forked up another bite, she wondered who the new allies Steve had picked up were. One thing she knew, he hadn't sat down with them, and informed them of how it was their job to make sure he got out of the battle alive and unscathed. For some reason, she had a feeling he wouldn't do that because he wouldn't deem it 'proper'. Well, that was fine. When they all got back to New York, she would have to sit down with them herself, and explain her expectations from them.

Their lives for his. That was the exchange she expected, at the very least. And she would enforce it, anyway she had to.

She sat there, eating the potato salad, clicking through the pages of the student information page. She noted that the payment for the quarter had gone through. One of the professors for the introduction to English course she had signed up for had posted his book list for the class. She clicked on it, checking the prices, pausing with the fork halfway up to her mouth, a little in shock. Even at a community college, the book prices seemed... steep.

Steve wasn't going to be happy with that.

She sighed, setting the fork back into the plastic container, and setting the container on the table, before clicking on the book, being taken to the campus bookstore. She put it in her online shopping cart, shaking her head, as she moved to check the other classes, and finding the book lists for them also released. It was an easy thing to put them in her online shopping cart, before just hitting the 'pay now' function, being prompted to choose the method of payment. Luckily one of the options was the payment on file with the school Bursar. One less thing to worry about. She would be able to pick up the books from the campus bookstore in the next couple of days, and maybe get a jump on the classes, by going through the books early.

Just as she was about check the class information about needed materials, considering making a list, for the next time they went out as a family to one of the bigger stores in the area, she heard the news-person who had been talking about the event make a sound of shock and dismay.

Turning her head, she saw Sokovia... which had been flying... and was now falling...

She stood up fast, the chair she was sitting on falling to the floor with the force, as she launched herself at the couch, leaping over the back and stepping across the cushions and the coffee table, to drop in front of the TV, putting her hands on the screen.

Her heart pounding, her head silent, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, she watched the entirety of the city start to fall from the sky.

"No." she whispered. "Steve... no no no no no..... don't do this to me, Steve... don't... please... no...."

He had to have gotten off, before it started to fall. He had to. He wouldn't be so fucking stupid as to stay...

She sucked in a breath, realizing that yes, he was that fucking stupid. If there was even one innocent person left on that flying rock... he would sacrifice himself to make sure they were safe. And she hadn't seen anything about getting the people off...

How could they have? There were what... six...maybe eight of them? And God knew where Fury was, if had even had a fucking plan to begin with...

And she had turned it down. She had refused to go with Fury, or Steve...

Now she was paying for it, watching as the man she loved died, live, in color, on television, half a world away.

"Fucking hell...." She slapped the television. "Steve... don't you fucking do this to me... don't you fucking... no, don't. I swear to God, Steve... if you do this to me, I will never forgive you!"

He wouldn't do this to her. Not when he was so eager to have a life with her. He wouldn't throw his away, not like he had... Like he had done, before... Goddammit, he had a track record of doing this sort of thing... why was she surprised?

"You promised me." She whispered, as the city fell, faster and faster. "You promised me, Steve... you don't break your promises..."

Oh, God... if this was... No, she refused to believe it.

"You got off of that rock, didn't you, Steve." She nodded, slapping the television again. "You wouldn't do that to me. To Juliana... You... you got off of it, before this happened. Because... because you love me, and you wouldn't break my heart... not after everything..."

She stopped, freezing, watching as the rock began to gain speed in it's decent, and had to gulp in deep breaths, even as she wanted to have even that stop, afraid that if she moved, if she blinked, if she swallowed, if she spoke, the moment would be lost, and she would not see Steve and his team leave the place.

Instead, with a bright flash, the rock broke apart, like a crumbling cookie, before it scattered.

She felt the rawness of her throat, as a tortured scream left her, her hands forming fists as they came down on the screen, over and over, as she saw the last hope of Steve coming back to her evaporate like the rock had done.

The screen cracked, the picture pixelating for a moment, before going black and silent, and she raged again, hitting it over and over, until she reached up, grabbing the top of it, pulling it and throwing it aside, the crash and cracking a background sound, as she dropped to her knees, bringing her fists up to her face, pressing them to her wet eyes.

She felt like she had been pushed underwater.

There was no air.

There was no ground beneath her.

She was floating, and not in a good way.

Dark, brackish, stagnant, polluted....

Every breath of air felt like Chlorine gas.

Ever gasp felt like she was sucking in poison.

Her heart, which had felt so light days, weeks, months ago, buoyed by the love she had given to Steve, now was as heavy as a anvil, wrapped around her ankles and dragging her down.

It wasn't possible.

He was a man, but he was the only man who would have ever been able to survive that.

But the disintegration of the rock gave her the lie to that statement.

She had run out of time.

Time.

Jesus. She always thought she had enough. She had lived her life, most of it anyway, sleeping. She had figured she had more than enough time to figure things out with Steve. For all that he pushed, and didn't push, she figured she had time to give him an answer.

An answer to a question that apparently ninety nine percent of the women of the world would have given him within five seconds of the question. But no, she had to be difficult. She had to be the one percent that wasn't sure the answer was one she wanted to give.

Why had she been so afraid? Why hadn't she grabbed onto the opportunity with both hands, and held on as tight as possible?

Maybe if she had, he would have died knowing that she had loved him enough to push aside her own fears. That she had worshiped him enough to give him the life he had wanted. To give him the completion of every dream he needed, to feel like his life's work was rewarded. That for all that she claimed that for him, and him alone, she would bend and break to suit him, she had actually done it.

Eventually she would have come around to his way of thinking, in regards to children, wouldn't she?

But it didn't matter now.

Too late.

She was too late, to give him the answer that had been hidden in her heart, deep, deep, deep, where no light could have touched it, until he dragged it out of her.

She wanted to marry him. She wanted to belong to him, as much as he belonged to her. She wanted to build the life he told her about, the life that Papa had raised her on, the life she read about in books, saw in the movies, heard people talk about.

The normal life.

A life filled with love, with laughter. A life filled with fighting, and arguments. A life filled with accomplishments and failure. A life shared between them. A life together.

A life.

A life.

A life no more.

Screaming again, she folded in over herself, pressing her forehead to the wooden floor, grinding it down, scraping her skin along the smooth surface, wanting to shatter the wood and drive the splinters into her head.

Maybe she could help her body along, make it do what it should, now that Steve was...

She couldn't even think the word, let alone believe it.

But it had happened. Her worst fear realized.

For decades which went by in blinks of her eyes, her biggest fear had been losing her father. By her own hand, by his own hand, by HYDRA, by accident or tragedy, she had feared the loss of her father. She had survived that, though, when he had walked away from her in DC. She had survived it again, when he separated them in Poland.

Her fears had evolved, since then, with her relationship with Steve. She had accepted, she had thought, that he would always be in danger when he went out with the Avengers. She had grown to know that it was a necessary evil. That he needed the adventure, the fight, to keep his own spirit alive.

Falling to her side, curling up, pulling her knees to her chest, she sobbed.

That evil... that need for his adventures and fights... it had taken him from her.

How was she still breathing?
How was her heart still beating?
Why wasn't she dead? Struck down the moment he ceased to be?

Why weren't the cells that composed her body melting away until she puddled into the floor?
And how long before the ice took her again? Before she felt the cold invade her lungs, and the crystals forming in her blood?

Wave after wave of grief crashed over her, pushing her down, each time she felt like she might break the surface.

Underwater. She was underwater.

And as if from underwater, every sound seemed... off. Warbled, distressed, far away.

She could have sworn she heard her phone going off, more than once. But it wasn't possible... and even if it was, she didn't care.

The one person whose voice she needed to hear was never going to be heard again.

Silenced.

Bringing her wrist up to her mouth, she dug her teeth into her skin, grinding them down until blood filled her mouth, hot and coppery.

Never would she hear that stupid huffing laugh of his.

Never would she hear him tell her he loved her, in the tone that seemed designed only for her.

Never would she hear him call her by her nickname.

....never would she hear him take those vows that he held so much stock in, in front of a priest and in front of a God that had surely proven that He had abandoned her, years ago.

For no God, no loving, tender, fatherly God, would have done this to her, not after everything else she had gone through in her life.

But maybe this was her punishment for her sins?

Maybe this was her atonement for what she had done?
She had taken the loves of so many other people, in her time as a HYDRA asset, that perhaps her punishment was to know love, really know and feel it, and to then have it taken away from her. That now she was going to have to live out her remaining years, surviving on the scraps of the table she once held banquet at. She would live her life pressed against the glass, watching others gorge themselves on what she had once had access to, so freely.

As blood continued to fill her mouth, spilling from her lips to dribble across her skin, and to drip to the floor, she considered how she didn't even feel the pain.

If she did, it was a drop in the ocean of pain that was buffeting her already.

Banging came through the water, dull and resounding, echoing in her head as hollow as if in a cavern. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

He was gone.

The darkness began to rattle in it's box, the locks and latches she shut it tight with creaking as they began to give way.

There was no more light to help her keep it at bay.

Why should she, anyway? What did this world deserve, but for her to unleash the madness embedded in her? Why shouldn't she let it all go, let it consume her? Let it finish the twisting of her soul until she was as shredded and as torn as the flags that weren't taken down during a windstorm?
Why was she still keeping it locked away?

Why?

Wouldn't it be better, if this world learned of her grief and wrath? Learned what happened when a Queen was denied her lover?

How long would it take, honestly? All she had to do was reveal herself... and those still loyal would flock to her feet. She had the bearings now, the beginnings of a Kingdom. It wouldn't take long, if she applied herself to it, to take over the rest of the Marino holdings. Junior was unmarried. She shuddered at the thought of anyone else touching her, but if she played the part well enough, she could bring him to his knees, work in the shadows to remove Mr. Marino, move Junior up, until she could push him off a ledge. Assume the position of power, and rule New York in the place between shadow and light. From there her fingers would crawl across the country, until it was firmly brought under her control.

Once that had been achieved, she could move on to the next, then the next, then the next... like a row of dominoes, like a house of stacked cards, they would all fall, and be gathered up and picked over like jewels in her crown.

It would be so easy.

She would gain enough power and influence, that her Papa would be able to return to his country of birth. He would be able to be helped by the best medical minds in the world, until he was returned to himself. She would make sure of it.

The banging continued, before it ended, suddenly.

"Queenie!" Marcus' voice was distant, even as he dropped to his knees beside her. "She's not... I don't know what to d-"

She blinked, looking at Marcus, wondering why his hair wasn't moving in the water. It was slicked and styled, but not waving like it should be, as deep as they were.

"Okay. I'll try." Marcus leaned over, reaching for her, and she watched his hand still confused by why it looked dry. "Queenie, I need you to sit up. I need you to take the phone."

"He's gone." she told him, not caring. "He's gone."

"No." Marcus set something aside, reaching with both hands, hauling her up. She didn't help, much. She was limp. She felt like her bones were finally crumbling away. "Sit up, Queenie. You need to hear me."

"It doesn't matter." She explained. "He's gone. What am I holding back for? Why shouldn't I burn the world to the ground?"
"Stop it." Marcus reached out, slapping her face.

She snarled, the automatic response in her making her launch herself at him. "I'll rip your head off... how dare you... I am your Queen!"
"The phone, Queenie!" He told her, trying to keep her hands from landing on him. "Pick up the damn phone!"

She broke his hold on her left hand, latching it around his neck, squeezing. "He's gone. Nothing is holding me back anymore. This world will burn. It will burn.... and I will rule the ashes..."
"Steve isn't dead!" He gasped, his voice raspy around her grip, his face turning an interesting shade of red. Almost the same color as his hair. "He's on the phone!"
"Liar!" She leaned closer to him. "I watched him die. He's gone... and nothing matters anymore."

She would make the world beg for mercy. She would make them feel her pain. She would soak the world in agony, just to make them all feel a measure of the ripping sensation that was now flowing through her.

Maybe then she could make her heart stop beating.

"BROOKLYN!" He struggled. "Just pick up the phone!"
His hand waved towards the coffee table, indicating his phone, which was sitting on the edge.

"Please!" Marcus begged, his face starting to change color again, his eyes starting to roll back in his head.

She snorted, letting up on his throat.

"Why should I listen to anything anyone has to say?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. "Nothing matters, now."
He gulped in air, as she gave him just enough space to do so. "I swear, he's on the phone. If you still don't believe me, you can kill me. I promise!"

She pressed down, just enough to hear him gag, before letting up again. "It doesn't matter. He's dead. He's.. he broke his promise to me. So, your life will be forfeit... if you think I will believe this lie..."
She leaned over, grabbing the phone with her right hand, keeping her left on his neck, balancing her weight on him. Bringing the phone up to her ear, she snapped, "Make your lie believable, or he dies."

"Babydoll..." Steve's voice was tried, but relieved. At least it sounded like Steve... who knew how they made that possible. "Don't hurt Marcus, Babydoll."

She sniffed, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder, bringing up her right hand to press against her eyes. "He is gone. I watched it. How the hell did you pull this off?"
"I made you a promise, remember? Home in one piece? Me and the suit. Because you want to burn it, in the grill pit at the Marino's. Despite it being fire resistant." Steve's voice held a touch of humor, as well as urgency. "This is me, Babydoll. I promise you. I got off, before it fell. Well, it started falling. Then I got off."
"No." She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. "Not possible."
"Fury pulled out a helicarrier from storage. He managed to get there in time. We got the people off before Ultron flipped the switch, and sent it down. I promise, Babydoll. I'm coming home."

"It's not fucking possible!" She screamed. "I saw it! I saw it fall! I saw it fall apart! There is no way-"

"Brooklyn, I promise you. I survived, Babydoll. I'm coming home. I promised you!" Steve-Not-Steve insisted. "I'm coming home... and I'm getting an answer from you, remember? You told me you would give me an answer."

She sucked in a breath. "Not. Fucking. Possible."
"Goddammit, Brooklyn! I met you while you were working at a club! I tried to follow you home, several times! You threatened to castrate me, if I pushed you, the first night!" He snapped. "I took you and your sister to the park with Sam Wilson! The first time you responded to my kiss, like a woman does to a man, was outside a Denny's in Pennsylvania! I had you against the wall, and you responded. I brought you back to the Tower, and I made you cum. The next morning, you pinched my ear and called me 'Star Spangled Cannon fodder'. Since then, I have been yours. I have belonged to you. Now, I'm begging you, believe me. I survived. I'm coming home. I love you."

She let go of Marcus' neck, bringing her left hand up to curl around her collar. She grabbed the phone with her right hand, her eyesight wavering. "Steve?"
"There we go, Babydoll. There we go. There's my good girl." He breathed, relieved. "Hey, honey. Miss me?"

"Fucking idiot!" She cried, slamming her eyes shut. "I thought you... I though... I saw... oh, God..."
"Nah." He chuckled. "I couldn't do that to you. I made a promise. I don't like breaking promises. Especially to you. I love you. I'm coming home, Babydoll."

Brooklyn fell back on her hips, near tears. "I fucking swear to god, Rogers... when you get back here, I am beating the ever loving shit out of you for scaring me like this!"

"I've already had the ever loving shit beat out of me, Babydoll. I just spent hours fighting robots. Robots, Brooklyn! When was the last time you fought robots?" Steve's voice fell to a tired tone. "All I want, is a shower, and to wrap my arms around you. Can I do that?"

"No." She snapped. "No, no you don't. Not that. You come home? I'm beating some fucking sense into you! You should have gotten off, as soon as the fucking thing started to fly! What the hell is wrong with you! What happened to running, if you needed to?"
"I couldn't leave the people there, unprotected!" he defended. He actually was trying to defend his actions! The fucking....

"I don't give a fuck!" she shot back. "They would have been dead the moment that rock started to fall! Better all of them, than you! Do you hear me? I don't give a fuck about the rest of the world, as long as you are safe! Get your fucking ass home, Rogers! I'm not doing this over the phone!"

"Yes, Ma'am." He chuckled, before sighing. "Gimme a few hours. We are inbound right now. But I couldn't just come home. I had to make sure you knew I was coming home. That I was safe."
"A couple hours?" She confirmed. "Two, or three? Four? Or am I gonna be twiddling my thumbs after midnight, still waiting for you?"

"A few, like three? Maybe four." He sighed again. "I'll be home before you know it, Babydoll. Promise."
"Fuck that. I'm setting a timer." She rolled to her feet. "If you aren't home in four hours, no more, I'm going to.... I'll.... I don't know what I'll do! But you won't like it!"

Steve sounded so tired. "Brooklyn, I love you, but can we please, please, with all the goodness of the world on top, dispense with the threats? I'm gonna be home soon. And then we are going to take a few weeks off. If they call me in, I'm going to hang up the phone."
Brooklyn snorted. "Yeah. Right. Sure. And pigs fly to the moon and back."

"I'm done." He repeated. "For a while, at least. There's some changes coming our way. Changes that are gonna affect how we are gonna be, from here on out. I'll explain, when I get home, okay? I borrowed this phone, Babydoll. I'm gonna need to give it back. I'll be home, real soon, Brooklyn. Okay? I love you."
"I fucking love you." she squeezed her eyes shut. "Haul ass, Rogers. Get home. That's an order."
"Yes, Ma'am." He chuckled. "Hauling ass, Brooklyn."

He hung up, and she dropped the phone, pressing the heels of both hands into her eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. While a moment ago, she felt like she was drowning, now she felt like the oxygen was too thin, making her feel lightheaded.

Marcus coughed, and she lowered her hands, blinking at him.

"Oh, God." She whispered, leaning forward to help the redhead sit up. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, sitting, looking at her. "No... I... no, it's okay."

"It's not." she shook her head, losing the fight against the tears. "It's not, Marcus. You have only ever tried to help me. And I... I'm so sorry."

"I knew you were..." Marcus took a deep breath, swallowing. "I just never really saw it, that's all."

"I've been doing better." She offered, softly, while sniffing and wiping at her face. "Steve says it's a work in progress. That I'm gonna get there, one day."

"You will." Marcus nodded, reaching up to rub his throat. "Just... might take longer than you thought."

"I hurt you." She shook her head, rubbing harder at her face. "I... I could have..."

Marcus nodded again. "Yeah. There was a moment there...But you stopped, in time. You took the call."
Brooklyn snorted. "Yeah."
"He called. Several times, over the past few hours." Marcus cleared his throat. "You didn't answer."
"Hours?" She turned her head, looking at the window, gauging the time that had passed. "How long since it fell?"
"About four hours." Marcus stood up. "It took him about an hour to find a phone. He called you, initially. When he couldn't get a hold of you, he called the school. Talked directly with Juliana's teacher, letting him know he was okay. Steve was concerned that Juliana had seen the news. Mr. Blackwell apparently wasn't watching the whole thing. Then he tried you again, several times. He was worried. That you had... and you had."
"So he called you." Brooklyn rolled to her feet, turning to look around her, rubbing her sore wrist. Blood was still on the back of her tongue. "And you came to get me."

"Yeah." Marcus, folding his arms, looked around the apartment, before pointing at the ruined television. "I'll have one of the boys pick you up a new one."

"It's fine." she shook her head, looking at the broken flat screen. "It's not important. Four hours?"
Marcus bent, picking up his phone. "Four hours, Queenie."

"Shit." She turned, looking at the clock over the stove. "Juliana."
"Steve had the teacher call Kitty." Marcus assured. "He figured you weren't going to be... in a good place, to go pick up your sister."

"Shit." guilt filled her. "I left her alone. I left her... Goddammit. Im useless."
"No." Marcus stepped forward, pausing for a moment, before he put his hand on her shoulder. "You got knocked down, that's all. You thought the man you loved had died. It's normal. You just... focus on you and on him, right now. Juliana is covered. As far as I know, she's thinking she gets to go spend a night or two with her Nonna."

"I don't..." She brought her hands up, rubbing at her face, harder this time. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say to him. He keeps thinking I'm so strong... but... I'm not...Not really. God, just thinking I had lost him, and I shattered, Marcus."

"That's love." He rocked his head. "You aren't the first person who went a little crazy because of it."

He patted her on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"I'm gonna go back to my place. Give me a holler if you need anything." He told her, as he walked through the door, before pausing. "You're okay, Queenie. He's okay. Just... just breathe, for right now. And figure out what you're gonna tell him when he gets home. Besides beating him over the head for scaring the shit out of you."
"I swear, he needs serious percussive recalibration." She snarked, folding her arms.

"Just don't do it so hard his brain pops out. I'm not sure Doctor Gibson is a neurosurgeon." Marcus gave her a nod, before leaving, shutting the door behind himself.

Brooklyn took part of his advice. She began to do her breathing exercises. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Start to plan.

Steve would want a shower, and a meal, when he got home.

Fighting, especially for a super soldier, was very draining on the body. Food was in order. If, as he had claimed, he had been fighting robots for hours, as well as the mental and emotional stress of what he had just gone through, he was going to need food. Lots of food.

So, shower, food...

And apparently, her.

He would be the returning hero. The warrior who had survived.

Based on his previous behavior, in the past, after other missions he had completed with the Avengers... he was going to want to fuck.

Hard.
Honestly, considering what she had just gone through, in her head and in her heart, she was going to want it, as well. Anything to make the connection, that he was here in front of her, and alive.

She went to rub her stinging wrist, only for the pain to flare, and she looked down at it. Shock filled her, when she noticed just how much she had damaged herself. The skin was torn, sullenly weeping blood still, the clear imprints of her teeth visible.

So, that had to be dealt with, first and foremost. Steve wouldn't be pleased if he went through all of that, and came home to find she was the damaged one.

A soft knock on the door made her go over to it, opening it slowly.

Marcus stood there, holding up a first aid kit.

"Want me to bandage that wrist for you?" He asked, looking sheepish. "I figured you wouldn't want Steve to freak out, when he first comes home."
"You still handling me, Marcus?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, pushing past her to come into the apartment. "Yeah. I don't mind. What are friends for?"

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

She was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest with her phone in her hand, and staring at the place the television used to be. After Marcus had bandaged up her wrist, he helped her clean up the mess left by the broken flat screen, before pressing a kiss to her cheek, and leaving.

Brooklyn had jumped into action, not knowing how much time she was actually going to have. Steve had said three to four hours, but he might be earlier. She had grabbed the phone, inhaling slowly to calm herself when she saw how many missed calls there were, as well as a few frantic texts. Not all were from the unknown number he had called from. Some were from Kitty. A few from Pops. Even a couple from Wilson.

Apparently when Steve couldn't get a hold of her, he had rattled the phone tree, calling in all reinforcements.

He had been that desperate to make sure she knew he was alive and well.

She held that knowledge to her chest, to keep her poor beating heart warm, while she waited for him.

The first thing she had done after Marcus had left the second time after wrapping up her wrist, had been to go into the bathroom, and wash her face of the dried blood while making sure to keep the bandage on her wrist dry.

The second thing had been to go into the kitchen and check the food available.

Because of everything that had gone on in the past few days, she hadn't gone to the store, or ordered any grocery deliveries. There was enough, sure, to make a quick meal. One she was fairly confident that wouldn't be burnt, and possibly quite delicious. But not a mass quantity.

Which was what Steve was going to need. He was going to need lots of food, with as much calories and fats and carbs and all of the stuff that the world had been telling everyone to avoid, as soon as he walked in that door. So, Brooklyn had gone about ordering food. Pizza, Chinese, burgers and fries, pastas, barbecue, meats, breads, veggies, fruits.... as much as she could think of. She had pulled out the menus they used fairly regularly to order, going down and picking out the things he liked, the things he had ordered in the past, and things he had mentioned he might want to try. Yes, she knew a lot of it might be cold, or at least cooling, by the time he got home, but at least she would be able to offer him enough to sate his appetite. For the past hour, it had been a steady stream of deliveries. So much so, that the fridge was full, the top of the stove was covered, and the stacks of take out boxes had begun to cover rest of the counters as well.

As much as the clutter made her fingers itch to organize and clean, she resisted. She forced herself to sit on the couch, and focus on her breathing, on waiting for the time to pass, and for Steve to come home to her.

Like he promised.

Like he had promised her, he was coming home.

And like she promised him, she had to have an answer for the question he had asked her in February. When he had asked her to marry him.

It was still a difficult thing to go over in her mind, really. Meeting Laura had helped, a little. But what was really making the possible answer stick in her head, and burn her tongue with the need to say it, was the near loss of Steve.

She could have lost him. She thought she had.

Her head jerked up, as the lock turned, and the door opened.

Steve walked in, and she looked at him, taking him in.

He was battered. He was bruising. He looked exhausted.

He was dressed in that stupid fucking suit, still.

But he looked glorious.

And alive.

Rolling over, she crawled across the couch to kneel on the arm of the couch, letting her phone fall somewhere in the cushions, losing control of her breathing.

He looked at her, and grinned. "Hey, Babydoll. Miss me?"

Moving close enough to touch her, he reached out and brushed her cheek. She turned into it, inhaling deeply, before rearing back and connecting her knuckles with his cheek. His head jerked to the side, a sound between a grunt and surprise left him. He raised his hand, touching where she had struck him, his eyes going wide as he looked at her.

"Damn, Babydoll..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Fucking idiot!" She pushed at his chest. "Fucking idiot!"

"I know." He nodded, pursing his lips, not avoiding her hits. "But I had to come back for my answer, Babydoll. I love you."
"Yes." She said, the world bursting from her, unable to keep it back anymore. "Steve, yes."
Steve stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her, seeming to relax, his body losing tension.
"Steve, I'm saying yes." She told him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest, ignoring the star and the fabric and the dirt and everything, except the feel of his breathing and heartbeat. "I'm saying yes."

He froze, before pulling away from her, his eyes confused for a moment, before they widened, and filled with happiness. "Yes?"
"Yes." She nodded, reaching up to cup his dirty jaw. "Yes."
"Say the words, Brooklyn." His voice was shaking, as he ordered her. "Tell me the exact words, so I know we are on the same page here."
Taking a deep breath, inhaling the scent of blood, battle, rock, oil, metal and.... Steve. Pure Steve. "Steve Rogers, I will be your wife... yes."

a/N: So, she did it! Yay, Brooklyn! Working on the next chapter, as i post this! So, Question of the day! Favorite Insult in this story? Vote and comment!