Summary:
Steve's trying to make a new life from whatever remains in the future and he realizes that there's someone else in the tower who's trying to move on too.
Steve looked up at the sound of the service elevator. They'd only learnt about Holly's true identity just earlier that week, but he couldn't help but still be surprised that someone like Holly was their cleaning lady. He tried to imagine Peggy willingly, even happily, working as a cleaning lady and couldn't. Holly bustled into the room with her cleaning cart, chattering away at Jarvis about someone named Hermione.
"Hello Holly." Steve said.
"Steve!" She greeted. "You're not normally in here in the morning, don't you go on runs?"
"I got back early. I had...an idea I wanted to work on." In front of Steve was a drawing easel that he was attempting to fill with a painting. He'd always been interested in being an artist, it was his dream job as a kid. But...well things had gotten in the way of that. Now he had the time to work on his art but he found that things weren't coming together.
"It looks...colorful." She said walking over to look at the messy paints on the thick paper Tony had gotten him.
"It's rough." He defended. "I'll work out the kinks."
"Have you taken any classes?" She asked.
"No. There weren't things like that back in my time." Well there were just not for poor people. "I taught myself. I'm just out of practice."
He had been considering signing up for a class but hadn't gotten around to it. Missions as an Avenger kept him busy and beyond that wouldn't it be weird to have Captain America in an art class?
"I'm sure you'll get back into the swing of things." She said. "I assume things like that come back to you."
Steve was reminded that Holly probably never got the chance to doodle in class and find that she was good or bad at it. As a young girl she'd been bullied by her cousin and anything she enjoyed was destroyed and then her magically schooling had essentially been one life threatening adventure after another. It seemed deeply unfair.
"You ever do anything like this?" He asked.
"Mmm. No." Her voice was thoughtful. "Wasn't much of a doodler as a kid and the older I got the less time I had."
Just as Steve had suspected. Something squirmed in his stomach at the truth of it.
"Well..." Steve swallowed. "I was thinking, since I'm so out of practice that it might be nice to take a class or something."
"That sounds like a great idea, Steve." Holly gave him a smile before moving around to start cleaning the mostly clean apartment. He watched her for a moment before trying again. It was weird. He wasn't even trying to ask her on a date, and he was still way too nervous. He ignored the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Bucky telling him he'd never be good with a dame.
"Yeah, well...maybe, if you're not busy you could come with me?" Holly froze in the middle of putting the bag of trash from the beneath his kitchen sink into her large garbage can. She slowly stood up to look at him.
"You mean...to an art class?"
"As friends!"
"A friendly art class." She deadpanned causing Steve to frown at her.
"I just thought that you might have the time now to learn and that it might be easier with a friend. You don't have to make..."
"When is it?" She asked.
Right. Steve hadn't actually signed up for an art class yet. Maybe he'd hadn't thought this one all the way through. Before he could admit to his failing, Jarvis spoke.
"Mr. Rogers' class is held twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays from 7pm to 9pm." Jarvis said. "It's located at The Art Studio NY in the Upper West Side, if you'd like Miss I can sign you up."
"That's...sure. Could you let them know that I'll work out payment details tonight then?" She asked. "Because Jarvis I can easily pay for an art class or two."
"Of course, Miss." Jarvis said in a tone that heavily implied that she wouldn't be paying for a cent of that class. Holly pursed her lips.
"What class is this anyway?"
"It's titled 'No Fear Oil Painting'."
"Is oil painting scary?"
"It can be." Steve said. "Trust me, between the two of us I'm sure we can handle it."
She actually giggled at that and then told him that she was glad that she'd have a strong wall of muscle to protect her from the evils of oil painting. He rolled his eyes at her joke. Jarvis confirmed that she'd been added to the class roster and told her not to worry about bringing supplies as the class would provide what she needed.
"So, we can meet outside the art studio say at 6:45?"
"That sounds great." Steve said.
"Good." She paused awkwardly and Steve was once again reminded that Holly was probably even more unpracticed in this than he was. "Well...I'm going to get back to work. Thor's room always takes a bit of time."
"Right. See you tonight." Could he sound anymore stilted? She gave him one big, curt nod and went to the other side of the floor where Thor's mess began. Steve turned back to his painting. Eventually Holly went to a different floor and the awkwardness finally left. What had he been thinking? She'd never shown any interest in painting!
"Sir?" Jarvis said.
"Yes Jarvis?"
"Thank you for inviting her, even if you didn't actually have a class in mind. I know that Miss will enjoy finding new hobbies to indulge in."
"You think?"
"I do."
"Thank goodness. It just slipped out because I was thinking about how she'd never even doodled before and..."
"You did the right thing sir. Just make sure not to embarrass yourself tonight."
Right. Steve nodded to himself. He could be cool. Probably. This wasn't a date and he didn't want it to be, but still...what were the protocols for something like this? Because he wanted Holly to enjoy making art. He wanted her to find joy and passion in things that had nothing to do with war and fighting and heroics. It's what she deserved after everything. So, what did Steve need to do to make that happen?
On the outside Steve spent his morning trying to paint, on the inside he was strategizing. There had to be a way to make tonight perfect for Holly. All of the planning made him think of Bucky. There had been a handful of times in their teen years that Steve had been well enough and they'd had the time and resources to do something fun. Bucky had always been obsessed with making sure that Steve had the best time possible.
And now here Steve was doing the same. It made him feel very warm. When lunch came around Steve went up to find Clint making a large vat of pasta for everyone, it was his day to make lunch according to the schedule Jarvis had set up. Holly was taking lunch with her normal coworkers. She'd told them that she considered the other workers her friends and that she liked spending time with them, they saw her as normal, she liked being normal. Steve couldn't blame her, even if he did wish she'd eat lunch with them more often.
"Hey Cap." Clint said. "Me and Tony were thinking about having a movie night tonight."
"I can't." Steve said, for the first time. "I've got plans."
"Plans?" Clint asked. "Where? You going to the home again?"
It had been one of the saddest things that he'd learnt about this present time, that Peggy was still alive, but her mind was sick. Sometimes he'd visit her, not as often as was probably proper, but it hurt sometimes. When Steve visited Peggy, he usually wasn't in the mood for anything for the rest of the day. Steve shook his head with a small smile.
"No, actually I'm going out tonight. I signed up for a painting class." Steve said sitting down at the kitchen bar.
"Painting class?" Clint asked. "Really? You?"
"What? I can do art." Steve defended. "I used to do it all the time before I got frozen, I'm trying to get back into the habit."
"Right." Steve rolled his eyes at the teasing. Soon the other Avengers started to filter into the room, drawn by the promise of warm food. Clint, when properly motivated, could make two meals; frozen pizzas and chicken alfredo. Both meals were perfectly fine.
"Hey Capsicle." Tony said, walking into the room in an oil stained nearly thread bare band t-shirt "What's this I hear about an art class?"
"Jarvis tell you?"
"Sure did. He also mentioned you invited Holly to go?" Every Avenger stopped their individual conversations at her name, and all turned to look at Steve.
"Yeah. So?" He might have looked a little too defiant because Tony took that as an opportunity.
"Isn't she a little too young for you Cap? I don't want to accuse you of cradle robbing but..."
"It isn't like that." Steve said sternly. "I invited her as a friend and even if I hadn't, I wouldn't be cradle robbing! We're the same age."
"Steve. You're like 90 something years old." Clint said.
"I got frozen when I was 27." Steve said looking down at his hands. "And it's not like I aged any in the artic."
"I think if Steve is interested in courting Holly then they would be well matched they are both honorable leaders who won wars in defense of their people!" Thor said clapping Steve on the back.
"I'm not courting her!" Steve said. "She's a great dame don't get me wrong but..."
Thor was starting to look very offended that Steve was trying to make Holly his girl. Steve rushed to explain.
"I'm still...Peggy was real important to me and I'm not ready to go looking for anyone else yet. And even if I was, I don't think it'd be fair to try and date someone who's just like Peggy." Because there was a very startling resemblance between Peggy and Holly, both powerful British women who didn't take disrespect from anyone. After that first revealing conversation after they'd learnt just who their cleaning lady was, Steve had spent a lot of time doing mental comparisons between the two.
Thor thankfully accepted that explanation as did most of the others. Tony and Clint were another matter. Before they could start teasing again Bruce broke in.
"So why did you invite her then?"
"She's never done it before. I thought it might be fun if she had a friend to go and learn something new that didn't have anything to do with heroic stuff." Steve shrugged. "It just seemed like a nice idea."
There was a moment of silence as Clint finished up the pasta and moved to get the plates from the cabinet.
"You know Steve." Natasha said. "I think that might be a good idea."
"Thanks."
"I meant for all of us. Not going to that art class but to...invite Holly to try things with us. Things she hasn't gotten to do before. Tony, you're going to be bringing her into the lab to work on science stuff. Maybe you and Bruce could introduce her to some other hobbies at the same time."
Both scientists looked immediately thoughtful before Tony snapped his fingers.
"I'm going to show her my cars, maybe we could take a few out for a spin!"
"I guess we could do some meditation together?" Bruce guessed. "I also have that microbiology conference coming up, it might be a bit too technical but it's always interesting to listen to the talks anyway. I could invite her to that too."
Microbiology conferences sounded about as far from magical wars as they could get. Steve told Bruce so which made the man shake his head and tell Steve that things could get pretty brutal in the Oral Presentations.
"Perhaps." Thor said. "Holly might enjoy learning more things about Asgard? I could invite her to learn a few of our games. I've also been trying to learn more about human culture, we could go exploring together! That would be wonderful!"
"It might also be good if you had a chaperone." Tony told Thor with a slight grimace. "After the Ice Cream Stand incident you really should not be left alone in the city."
Thor had tried to pay for ice cream using Asgardian coinage, which hadn't gone over well and had almost resulted in a call to the police. At least it would have if Tony hadn't gotten wind of it and flown down there before it got too out of hand. Thor had explained later why he'd been so confused, apparently on every other realm Asgardian money was freely accepted and seen as legal tender. Midgard was the odd one out.
Still that hadn't been any reason to scare an Ice Cream Man half to death.
"What about you two?" Thor asked. "What will you invite Holly to do?"
Natasha tilted her head a little in thought and then spoke in a tone that sounded very dangerous to his ears.
"I think Holly needs to learn a few tricks of the trade."
Steve decided that he did not need or want to know what that meant. It was clearly not something for male ears. All of the men in the room had a similar conclusion on their faces. Clint bravely broke the silence.
"Obviously she and I are going to play video games. Now come on, eat up, pastas getting cold."
Everyone scrambled to get their fill of the food and soon they were scattered around the room each with a full plate. The conversation continued on, turning over different ways they could invite Holly into their lives. She deserved to play video games and paint and any other sort of nonsense she wanted to do. The security video Jarvis had shown them, where Holly revealed that her leader had raised her to die, that she'd never really had the time or been allowed to dream of her own future. It had shaken them. Holly didn't know who she was and well...maybe she could be an artist.
Steve spent his afternoon training and trying to perfect his plan. By the time the evening rolled around he was pretty confident that the evening was going to go very well. He'd made sure to wear clothing that was not too noticeable so that they wouldn't get mobbed by anyone. He had the directions to the studio, and he knew how to get there without being lost. He had 36 and a half different conversation starters for Holly that didn't have anything at all to do with fighting, war, or destiny.
So, Steve put on a leather jacket and left the tower. It took a while but he got to the steps of the Brooklyn Studio at 6:43 pm. He waited awkwardly for a few minutes and wondered if Holly was having trouble getting there. She had said she wasn't as familiar with New York as she would like to be. Before he could begin to get too frightened that Holly had gotten lost or decided not to come, he saw her walking down the street.
She was out of her ugly pink work uniform, which was an improvement Steve decided since no one, not even Natasha could make that smock look good. Instead she was wearing jeans that were probably one or two sizes too large and a hand knit sweater with the letter H in the center. Her hair was free from the customary bun he always saw it in and for the first time Steve realized how much hair she had.
It looked like a lion's mane that went down to her waist. Curly, wild, and thick, it framed her face and shoulders in darkness making her pale skin look nearly silver. Steve thought about what he knew she could do and wondered if her untamable hair was the only part of her that possibly revealed how dangerous she actually was. Like a cat's bushed up tail the only warning of claws coming your way.
"Steve." She said. "I'm not too late, am I? The cab dropped me off a bit farther away than I expected."
"You're fine." He said.
"Great! I have...an offer if you'd like before we go in."
"An offer?"
"If you don't want to be bothered for being Captain America I could put a light spell on you that would keep people from recognizing you." She said with a lowered voice, her eyes tracking the nearby crowd of people.
"You can do that?"
"How do you think I do my grocery shopping without being bothered by anyone?"
"Does it feel weird?"
"It tingles a little for a few seconds right after I cast it."
"Do it." She nodded and quickly waved her hand over him whispering words in a language that might have been Latin but could have also been Greek. Sure, enough there was a slight tingling on his skin but it faded quickly.
"There. I should warn you, the spell is light, if you go around talking about being an Avenger, people will figure it out."
"Right." Steve said grinning. "Got it, let's go in and find our seats."
The woman at the front desk took their names and gave them directions to the correct studio room all while eyeing Steve's pecs. She didn't even glance at Holly for more than half a moment which Steve thought was rather rude. Holly tried to work out her payment, but the woman just told her it had been taken care of. He followed behind Holly as she walked towards the studio, but not before giving the woman a stern look, she didn't seem to notice or care about.
The studio was filled with ten easels and paint sets, as well as a larger one at the front for the instructor. The chairs were set in a half circle all facing towards both the instructor's easel but also a small table that had a bunch of colorful wooden blocks. More than half of the seats were already filled, luckily there were two right next to each other that were free on the left side of the room.
"Those look good to you Steve?" She asked. "Yeah, let's get them before they get taken up."
There was a wide array of people in the class, a young kid with their middle aged mother, an elderly couple who looked like they might actually be Steve's chronological age, and a few college aged students. Holly and Steve were the only adults there that weren't retirement age or there for their children. Which was fine. The instructor looked to be about their age so it wasn't like they weren't welcome.
The instructor started the class before Steve could pull out any of his conversation starters, telling them all to pay attention and follow along with her. Today they were starting with a simple still life to work on color theory and shading. Steve followed along easily while Holly listened to the lecture with furrowed brows. He caught her mouthing the words 'color theory' with bewilderment more than once.
She quickly explained how to mix and use the paints, warning them that a little went a long way. The paints and oils filled the room with odd smells that would have likely irritated his sensitive senses if it weren't for the fans running in the room. The colored blocks they were supposed to be painting were bright orange and blue, an interesting mix that really forced Steve to consider how best to shade and color.
Holly meanwhile seemed more focused on getting a cube like shape, the frustration on her face growing with each stroke of her brush. Steve tried to offer advice but that only made her face look more sour as she tried to do as he said and it didn't work. Eventually the instructor stopped lecturing and told them to do their best, that she'd walk around and check on them periodically.
"So, what the hell is color theory?" She asked him as she placed another blob of orange onto her canvas. Steve did his best to explain and it looked like she got it for the most part, even if she still didn't seem to be interested, or able, in applying any of it onto her own work. In fact, the thing she seemed most adept was getting the paint on her hands, wrists, cheeks, and hair.
"Do you have a favorite artist?" He asked her.
"No? I don't really know of any. There was the bloke who was commissioned to do some portraits of famous war heroes that I met once. He wanted to do mine and he did an alright job, I looked nice, even if he made me look far too delicate."
"Delicate?" Steve asked. "Your wrists are as thin as sticks."
She gave him a look that was accompanied by a harsh dab of her brush into her palette. She carefully enunciated her new explanation.
"He was doing the portraits for all of the main leaders of the rebellion. For the men he painted them with these bold poses and colors, wand drawn or perhaps with a battle in the background." She explained. "For me though? I was painted in a dress I only wore once, sitting serenely in a chair with my hair styled and my skin scar free, aside from the forehead one. I looked very polished and..."
"Feminine?" He guessed and then wondered if he shouldn't have guessed at all.
"There's nothing wrong with being feminine but that should be something I choose to be, you know?"
"When I got out of the ice you would not believe the whiplash I got going to the Smithsonian the first time." He told her. "I was suddenly this man's man you know? The pinnacle of patriotism and macho-ness."
"And here you are, painting with oils." He snorted and delicately placed a light smudge of orange onto his canvas.
"All I'm saying is that I think people will always have these ideas and expectations about what a hero should be." Steve said. "It doesn't matter to them who we actually are as long as they can make us seem the right way."
"I know what you mean. I cannot count the number or articles complaining that I don't wear dresses, as if fighting terrorists in a dress is practical."
"Natasha manages."
"She's clearly something otherworldly, and that's coming from a witch." Steve giggled and made another stroke, this time with a slightly red orange color.
"Do you know how many conservative politicians keep using my name as a crutch to keep their popularity?" Steve asked. "As if I support any of their policies."
"You should tell them." She suggested. "That's what I do."
"Tell them what?"
"Well anytime anyone in the magical government invokes my name to try and gain political influence I show up and argue every point I disagree with them in a public place." She said. "That way everyone knows how sexist or racist they're being. You could do that too, just have Jarvis record your thoughts and put them online for people to see."
Now there was a thought. Steve didn't like that people were using his name and legacy to further things he had no part in or agreement with. It wouldn't be difficult to do his research, come up with his own opinions.
"I'll think about it." Steve decided.
"What a golden boy." She teased.
"I am not a golden boy."
"Sure..." Steve frowned and began to defend his reputation.
They spent the next while sharing stories of when they'd bucked authority or gotten into a fight with an opponent much larger just because it was the right thing. They had a lot in common and most of the stories shared resulted in laughter on both sides. Holly's painting looked less and less like the colorful blocks as time went on and more and more like brown blobs as she over mixed her paints.
Steve noticed her right hand started to shake within the first 25 minutes.
"Your hands."
"Ah. Yeah an old injury. Usually it's not a problem but delicate work can make it flare up. I got it right as the war was starting up."
At 15. Steve reminded himself not to grip the plastic paint brush too hard.
"Maybe painting wasn't..."
"No. No it's good Steve. I can work through this, with a few weeks of consistent work the pain will recede. My magic will only know to repair the damaged nerves in my hand if I attempt to use them and I've never used my hands like this."
"What happened if you don't mind me asking?" The moment the question left his mouth Steve cursed himself. He was supposed to leave the war out of it! Holly didn't notice. Instead she looked around before carefully rubbing at the shaking hand and whispering a few words he couldn't catch. She removed her left hand to reveal a scar on the back of her hand. The words written out in raised red lines.
I must not tell lies.
"I was fifteen." She said softly. "And I was very, very angry with the world."
It felt like the room got quieter as she spoke, the noises from the fans and the other students falling away. The instructor walked past them without even noticing they were there. It was just Steve, two canvasses and Holly. She told him about facing injustice after injustice as a fifteen year old girl. The world spiraling out of her control with visions that felt like nightmares, a leader who wouldn't look her in the eye, a teacher who refused to teach her how to defend herself, and a government trying to burn her at the stake.
Steve tried not to say anything, he just painted and occasionally made noises when it looked like she was getting too deep into her own head.
"Umbridge had this quill, a device I know now is illegal but back then I had no clue. All I did know was that whatever you wrote with the quill was cut into the hand you wrote it with." She said. "For months I went to unfair detentions where Umbridge tried to silence me but I refused."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Steve demanded.
"Would you have?"
That brought him up short. Steve tried to think about himself and what he did when he personally faced injustice. He always fought, did whatever he could to win, but telling others? That never crossed his mind. It was why Bucky had to stick so close to him, because if Bucky wasn't there Steve had a habit of going it alone.
"That's what I thought." She said.
"So, your hand is hurt forever?"
"There was some damage." She said. "Most of it was healed over the years by different healers I've been too, but they can't heal everything. This is just something I have to work through, the pain will pass. I promise, Steve."
"It shouldn't have happened to you."
"It's not a big deal Steve, I was..."
"A kid." Steve emphasized. "And even if you were 100 years old it still shouldn't have happened."
"Do you really think so?" She asked, her voice light and her green eyes focused strongly on the brown blobs she'd made.
"Of course! That was wrong, it should never...no one should be forced to self mutilate because they're trying to warn people. How could you even ask...?"
"There's a belief in most circles in the magical world, part of the reason I don't really talk about this much, that it needed to happen."
"What?"
"All of it." She said waving her paint brush in an all encompassing motion. "My abusive relatives, the blood quill, the mental attacks, the loss, the pain. Every single of it needed to happen and that I should be grateful that it did happen that way."
"Why?" Steve could find no other words, none.
"It's not that they don't think it was regrettable." She defended. "Or that the people who hurt me were right, but..."
"But what?"
"I saved the world because of it." She said. "All people are a product of their experiences in life and if I hadn't experienced just what I did then I wouldn't have saved the world. The prophecy that was given months before my birth was...most people think that I needed to go through everything I did so that the prophecy would be fulfilled"
"That's bullshit!" Steve shouted, his paint brush snapping in two in his hands. Holly jumped and stared at him, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. "That's the most bullshit thing I've ever heard! They only think that because it means that they don't have to feel bad!"
"I..."
"Those people created a world where Voldemort could flourish, where little shits like Umbridge could torture children and get away with it. They're the ones who let that happen to you, but they don't want to admit it's their fault! So, they blame a prophecy and...and fate! It's bullshit!"
Holly was looking at him like she'd never seen him before. Steve realized abruptly that he'd stood up and was shouting, he looked around but no one had seemed to notice his outburst.
"Privacy ward." She said, the words escaping from her still shocked mouth. "I thought we...might not want any eavesdroppers." "That's...that's good." Steve said sitting down. He looked awkwardly at his blue and orange painting, to his broken brush, and then back at Holly. She was still sitting there looking like she'd had a bunch of bricks dropped on her head. Steve took in a deep breath. "I'm just saying, that...what happened to you probably wasn't any part of that prophecy. Did it say you had to suffer? That you had to live with a family that didn't love you? Did it say you had to be attacked by the people who should have helped you?"
"No. No it didn't."
"Then it has jack shit to do with that." Steve nodded firmly. "And you shouldn't be grateful that you suffered and that your hand hurts sometimes and all of it just because of dumb shit idiots who want to pass the buck say you should."
"But...but would I have really been able to save the world if I hadn't..."
"Of course!" Steve said with all the confidence of a man who knew very little about the circumstances and didn't care. "You can lift Thor's hammer and you can clean after the Avengers, I don't see why a dame like you couldn't manage anything she put her mind too. Besides, people don't have to suffer just to want to do good."
"Right." She said. "You're right."
Steve got a strange feeling that Holly rarely, if ever said that and meant it. She shook herself a little and then looked back at him.
"What about you? Anything you'd like to share with the class?"
"I don't know..."
"Oh come on Steve, it's clear you dragged me out here to paint so we could talk about our feelings."
"That was not my intention, I just wanted to..." He glanced over and saw that she was grinning at him, teasing him. Steve rolled his eyes and nudged her lightly with his shoulder. They went back to painting, this time with the privacy ward down so that the instructor could compliment Steve and wince at Holly's 'creation'.
The joke was on him because by the end of the two hour session he'd told her about Peggy and her Alzheimer's. The fact that Steve cherished Peggy as the final connection to his past and feared moving on from her. That it didn't feel right. She was still his girl, at least it still felt like that. Holly pointed out that Peggy had lived an entire life already, she was a different person than the one Steve had fallen for, 70 years would do that to a person.
But that still didn't change the fact that he loved her. Holly got a thoughtful look on her face and then gave his arm a pat with her paint covered hand.
"I'm sure it'll get better."
Steve nodded, well used to empty platitudes. The class finished up by being instructed on where to put their canvases to dry until the next class. Holly grimaced as she placed her work next to everyone else's but did it anyway.
"I suppose there's something to say for only being able to go up from here." She said. "Next Wednesday I'm going to do much better."
"You're going to come again?"
"Are you kidding me?" She asked. "These stupid paints have issued a challenge and I've never been one to back down. I will conquer color theory and shading, even if I have to die. Because in death I will be triumphant."
Steve rolled his eyes at her drama and told her to have fun with that. They left the studio together talking about their plans for the rest of the weekend and the predicted weather. Steve was just about to offer to walk her home, or get her a cab when she offered to teleport him back to the tower. Right, magic.
"I'm fine, Holly. I'll see you Monday."
"Monday." She agreed. "Thanks for this Steve, this was really fun."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, I did too. We'll do it next Wednesday?"
"Next Wednesday." She promised. "I'll see you Monday okay? Try not to let Thor make too many messes."
"No promises." She laughed, looked around and then gave him a wink. Then she was turning on her heel and disappearing with a small crack. Steve went home with a smile on his face, when he got back to the tower he told everyone who had waited up that it had gone perfectly.
Two days later he got a phone call from Peggy's nursing home letting him know that Peggy was asking for him. Her doctor sounded amazed, just the day before Peggy had made a miraculous turn around, her mind seemingly fixing itself over night. She had near perfect recall for everything, including the memories of her time after the disease had taken root.
"I don't know how to explain it Captain Rogers, it's like magic!"
"Tell her I'll be right down okay? Wouldn't do to keep a lady like that waiting."
"I'll let her know." He said brightly. "See you soon!"
Steve hung up the phone and looked at it with for a moment. He remembered Holly promising him that things would get better, that she was sure of it. Steve huffed a disbelieving laugh.
"What a dame."