Frost In Fire | S.Rogers

✪ CHAPTER FOUR ✪

"Shuttin' off the hate, gettin' closure,
This will be the dust when I'm older."
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Chapter 4: Needed Closure.
Brooklyn sat next to her Father in the old, shadowed room of the care home they had ended up in.

The colours that surrounded them were mostly nude, peaches and soft browns with the occasional faded green curtains with pink and red roses at the bigger windows. The room was not big, barely big enough for the single bed, a couple of visitor chairs, and a bedside trolley, a ceramic tea set with thin, pale blue flowers painted across them.

The dainty teacup she had been holding in her hand was cold, and so was the warm milk she had been offered that sloshed slightly about the edges with every shift of her legs as she crossed her ankles over, extending and retracting them whenever she remembered, a soft clinking cleaving the comfortable silence whenever it touched the saucer she was holding awkwardly underneath it. 

Brooklyn was trained in many fields and had a reasonable knowledge of many topics, but it seemed to her that tea etiquettes had been left out thoughtlessly during her education, something she would remedy during her next break.

"You should be proud of yourself, Peggy."

Since they had arrived, Steve's voice had been soft and slow, and his eyes had shined as he walked into the room, to see the old, resting woman who lay in the bed, a heavy quilt thrown over her lap.

Brooklyn had followed in a few seconds after, not wanting to intrude on this initial meeting, only sitting next to Steve when he had beckoned her over, to meet the woman who had clasped one of his hands between hers.

It had taken more courage than she had to tell Steve where Peggy was, and her...condition.

Despite Brooklyn's reservations about going into the room with Steve, not wanting to interrupt the one moment of the life she knew he yearned for, as soon as the woman had taken one look at Brooklyn, the wrinkles around her eyes had deepened with joy, and she had leaned forwards, reaching for her. Brooklyn's smile had been kind and genuine, and she had let Peggy stroke over her hand, her joy only growing when Brooklyn had introduced herself with her middle name.

Steve was now looking over at the two monochromatic photos, both in silver metal frames streaked with darker, unpolished areas, studying the family photo of a two smiling parents and a small, beaming dark haired girl that was in the larger frame, and the smaller frame with the Mother, and the slightly younger, Daughter.

Peggy glanced over to the photos Steve had been looking at fondly, her grey, white streaked hair shuffling against the crisp pillow sheets, still in the large curls she had styled her hair in from the old videos and pictures she was in. Brooklyn watched silently, not wanting to  interrupt the closure she was hoping her Father was getting.

"Mm. I have lived a life," She looked over at Steve with a saddened expression, the smile she had on her face before no longer present, her British accent deeper than the videos Brooklyn had watched of her, "My only regret is that you didn't get to live yours."

Steve didn't answer, dipping his gaze downwards to the edge of her bed. His expression was troubled, and Brooklyn tilted her head, leaning forward to try and catch his eye.

"What is it?" Peggy asked, sounding slightly amused. Steve's eyes still roamed the bed, not looking up. It was a moment before he spoke again, his voice rough and low.

"For as long as I can remember, I just wanted to do what was right." He looked up, meeting Peggy's understanding eyes, "I guess I'm not quite sure what that is anymore. And I thought I could throw myself back in and follow orders...serve." He shook his head once, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "It's just...not the same."