"Eva?"
"Hey, Peggy," she smiled, bringing in a fresh bunch of flowers to replace the tired-looking ones in the vase next to her bed. There were more wires in the woman than last time, more tubes running in an out of her, and a glance at the clipboard on the wall told Eva she could no longer get out of bed.
"Did you cut those yourself?"
"I did indeed," she nodded. "How are you?"
"Marvellous," she murmured, and coughed. "How's your new job, darling?"
"My coworkers are a nightmare," she said with a grin, "which reminds me, I brought a friend to see you."
"Eva, you needn't - Steve!"
"Hey, Peg," the soldier smiled, crouching down at the side of her bed. "I missed you."
"But- but I thought you were dead," Peggy stammered, eyes welling over with tears.
"So did everyone," Steve said, struggling to smile. "You haven't changed a bit, you know that?"
"Oh, don't humour me. Steve, my love, I-"
"Hey." He kissed her forehead. "I know, sweetheart. I know. But I had to come back, didn't I? My best girl still owes me a dance."
A small sob wracked Peggy's frail body. "I can't," she whispered, "I can't dance, Steve. I can't even sit up."
Eva realized she was crying too, and retreated back out into the hallway where she pressed her hands against her mouth. Pull yourself together, Kresk. But it was awful, the whole damn thing, and there was nothing she could do to help, so she just stood there in the hallway and tried to muffle her stupid bloody sobs.
About half an hour later, when she was sat on the floor and picking absent-mindedly at the laces of her muddy boots, Steve came out and took the spot on the floor next to her.
"She's asleep," he said quietly. His eyes were red. "Thanks for coming with me."
"She's not gonna last much longer," Eva said, "is she?"
He shook his head. "She deserved better."
"So do most people." Eva laid a hand on his forearm in an attempt to comfort him. "I should go, my bike's kinda illegally parked outside."
"Only kind of?"
"Well, it's only half in a no-parking zone, so…" she tailed off, and Steve laughed quietly. "You're a biker too, right? I've seen your ride, it's nice. For a Harley."
He nodded. "I've crashed more than my fair share in the past. Literally in the past, since I've barely had a chance to go fast since the forties."
"We should have a drag race," Eva decided, "use the landing strip round the back of HQ, it barely gets any use 'cos of the way the quinjets land."
"It's not exactly responsible," Steve pointed out, to which Eva huffed.
"Come on, you're a rebel and you know it. Besides, it'll make great material for that documentary."
"I'm not sure if drag racing our gardener is how I wanna be portrayed to the general public," Steve replied.
She batted her eyelids at him. "Pretty please? It'll be a chance to get payback after when I thrashed you at pool."
"Well, when you put it like that," he said with a smile, "I'm out on ops tomorrow, but I'll be back by Sunday."
"Midday, then. Prepare to eat dirt, Rogers."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you, kid. I've got a lot more experience."
"Ah, you spent the vast majority of your life refrigerated. I ain't worried."
%
Sunday, 11:53am
To: Oh, Captain, My Captain
Where are u? Im waiting to beat ur pretty face into the dust x
"Right here, Kresk," a voice said behind her, and she turned to see Rogers walking up to the head of the strip from the direction of HQ, wearing a biker jacket and jeans. She hummed appreciatively. "Getting nervous?"
"You wish. No helmet?" she asked him, as he walked over to one of the two identical bikes that had been gifted to them for this purpose by courtesy of Stark Industries, along with the following message:
I'm not sure who I want to lose more –Tony
"I don't need one," he said, and Eva tutted.
"You're setting a bad example," she said, pointing to the camera crew behind her.
"Well, you'll have to make up for it." He walked over to his motorbike, where Sam was waiting, and whistled through his teeth. "'S a nice make."
"Harley?" Barton asked from the sidelines, and Eva gave him a disgusted look.
"Harley Davidsons are for old men trying to compensate for their… something," she told him, and Vision laughed. "I refuse to ride one."
"No need to censor yourself for the cameras."
"I was actually doing it for the grandpa," she replied with a grin, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at a frowning Captain.
"Pretty confident for a loser," Sam called back, who had been a supportive boyfriend and bet twenty bucks on Steve winning.
"Look," said Eva, pulling on her helmet, "big muscles and the Frisbee of Death are all very well and good when you got both feet on the ground, but here his weight's gonna be a serious disadvantage. Plus, I raced all the time back in Austin."
"Only kind of illegally?" Steve asked, and she stuck her tongue out at him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Romanoff, who was acting as referee, announced, "the race is about to begin, so could all spectators please vacate the strip."
"Good luck," Vision said, "and don't do anything stupid."
"Spoilsport." She hugged him quickly and he went and stood between Wanda and Hawkeye, Rhodes being stood down the other end with a laser pointer should they finish neck-and-neck. As a guard ran forward to hand Natasha a flag, Eva snapped down her helmet, swung a leg over the bike, kicked up its stand and switched on the ignition. Rogers was right, it was a good bike, and its motor sounded like the snarl of an animal beneath her legs. It was that feeling of riding a beast, of harnessing a thing that should have been uncontrollable, that had made her fall in love with racing bikes, since it appealed to the reckless side of her that had been less and less indulged recently. But now, her heart was thumping and she was ready to race a superhuman.
As the sun reached its peak, Romanoff assumed her position in the space between the bikes. "Alright, hotheads," she said with a wicked grin, "on your marks… get set… go!"
Her last word was swallowed by the roar of the twin engines as the two of them tore off down the mile-long strip, Steve just pulling ahead- Eva had never been good off the line. But Steve was used to WWII Harleys and Indians as well as more recent Ridley cycles which were all automatic, and Eva had learnt on a manual like the one she was riding, which meant that her better control over its engine combined with her lighter frame led to her catching up with him before they were a quarter of the way down.
A quick glance to the side and she saw Steve was glaring straight ahead with his jaw set; all his bravado earlier had been false, he was having to put all his effort into keeping level with her. She allowed herself a grin beneath her helmet and turned back to looking straight ahead, and slowly but surely her front wheel inched ahead of his.
"Eat dicks, America!" she yelled, her voice muted by the noise as she pulled ahead with her heart pounding in her chest so hard it shook her leathers. She was a good twenty feet in the lead now, the finish line was in sight and her ego overtook her as she reared up onto her back wheel, whooping with joy as she crossed it first. First! She beat Captain America, again! The trick was just to only challenge him at what he thought he was good at, and make sure it was an activity which wasn't benefitted by having shoulders the size of basketballs.
She brought the bike round in a few donuts, then pulled up alongside Steve, who was shaking his head as he killed his engine. "Hey, sexy."
"Good game, Kresk," he said with admirable valour, and held out a gloved hand. She went to shake it but pulled her hand back at the last minute, pressing her thumb to her nose and wiggling her fingers in the air. "Hilarious. Well, on the plus side at least Sam owes Vision twenty bucks now."
"You smell that?" Eva said delightedly, pulling off her helmet and ruffling her hair.
"Gas fumes?"
"Glory," she corrected him, "victory. Did V really bet on me?"
"Yep."
"Sweet."
"Dunno why you're so surprised," Steve grinned, "why wouldn't he?"
"Eh," she shrugged, "I'm not used to people believing in me, is all."
"Well that's upsetting," Steve said, and held out his hand. This time she actually took it, but instead of shaking he used it to pull her into a crushing, sweaty hug. "Congratulations on winning, Eva Kresk. Knew you could do it."
She looked up at him, eyes screwed up both against the sun and in suspicion. "Why did you agree to it, then?"
"Because you needed the morale boost," he said, letting her go. "You're damn good at a lot of things, kid. Don't forget that."
"Stop getting all philosophical on me, old man," she said as she blushed, and Steve laughed.
A/N this chapter is something I have been dying to write for ages. We've pretty much exhausted the pool of things Eva is good at now, though. Coffee, gardening, drinking, nihilist humour, pool, bikes. She's actually very bad at ukulele. Nobody mentions it, though. They're too kind.