The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 69

She hummed as she worked, snipping his hair shorter. Not so short that, as it grew out, it would be obvious, but short enough it would be easier for him to take care of as he went back to his wandering. He sat, back straight against the chair, his hands folded in his lap, turning his head as she directed. As soon as they had both gotten their emotions under control, the room service she had ordered had arrived. She had set about making sure that her father was well fed, if only for the brief time he was willing to stay with her. He kept pushing food at her, telling her that she was too skinny, and to make him feel better, she had eaten what he put in front of her, but for the most part, he had eaten everything she had ordered.

She imagined it was the first time in a long time, that he had been fed well enough that his body felt satisfied. That worried her. That her father was having a difficult time. Before she let him leave her, again, she was going to make sure he was as outfitted as she could make him, with such little notice.

"I'll send out for some shampoo, and soap. Maybe a shaving kit." She paused, running her hands through his hair, making sure it at least looked straight. "At least then, you might be able to take better care of yourself."

"Don't worry about it." Her father replied, leaning back into her touch. "I'll make do."

Brooklyn shook her head, tightening her fingers in his hair for a moment, before letting go. "Let me help you, while I can. Please, Papa."

He sighed, but gave a short nod. "Okay. Fine. I'll let you help."

"I'll also give you some money. Euros. It will help keep you afloat, if you use them wisely." She combed through his hair again, snipping a lock that seemed a little too long, satisfied when it blended in with the rest of the hair she was working on. "Maybe you can even set up a base camp."

"I don't know if that's wise." He replied, reaching back to capture her wrist, stopping her hand. Turning his head to look at her over his shoulder, he frowned. "If I set up a base camp, it'll be easier for anyone who's looking for me to find me."

"You can't move around, all the time, Papa." She jiggled her hand, trying to shake him lose gently. "You need to rest."

"Not while I even suspect that they're looking for me, for us. I have to keep them away from you." He insisted, his eyes bright and almost feverish. It was... mania. He was almost insane with it, she realized.

"Papa, who's looking for us?" She asked, softly. "HYDRA is gone. Who could possibly want to find us?"

"Rogers." He stared at her, intently. "I remember... I remember some things... he was my friend. I remember that. I used to tell you stories about him, right? When you were younger. Stories about our adventures growing up, in Brooklyn."
"Before the war." she confirmed, her heart beating a little harder. "What do you remember about him?"

"He was a skinny punk, always getting into fights." He let go of her, turning his head back around. "I had to pull his bacon out of the fire more times than I can count. I used to slip money in his pocket when he wasn't looking, because he never could hold a job for too long, on account of how sick he got all the time. But he was my best friend."

"Was he a good man?" She prompted, setting down the scissors. His hair was as good as she was able to make it. It would take a year or so, before it would be back near his shoulders again. At least. She hoped it wouldn't take that long for him to get around to coming home. "Did you trust him?"

"With my life. He was the best man I ever knew." He shook his head. "But I'm not the man I was back then, am I?"

"If he's as good a man as you claim, then he won't care." She stroked his head, before sinking her fingers in his hair, rubbing his scalp. He hummed as she massaged him. "He's probably looking for you, to help you."