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The final strains of music filtered through the room. For a moment they held onto each other, lingering over could-haves. Steve pulled back far enough to tip Peggy’s chin up. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she was smiling.
“I’m sorry it took so long for that dance,” Steve said, knuckling a tear from her cheek.
Peggy laughed, a short, watery bark. She lifted one hand to wipe under her eyes with the tips of her fingers, then gave a great ugly sniff and stepped back. “I’m not sure I have any toes left after that ordeal.”
Steve grinned at her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I never claimed it would be a good dance.”
“It is good to see you, Steven.” Peggy leaned against the back of the couch, still a little white faced from his surprise visit.
Now that the initial joy from their reunion had faded, the air felt suddenly stiff with awkwardness. Steve sank back on his heels, eyes traveling around the room, taking in her life in piecemeal. A hardback book sitting open on her coffee table. A briefcase cracked open next to an incredibly tacky brown vinyl couch. Pictures of Peggy, arms wrapped around her family, decades of a life Steve had no place in.
“Steve,” Peggy said, tone all business again. “Tell me why you’re here.”
Steve’s lips pursed into a smile, but it was a small, tight thing. Twisted by years of anger and grief. Vengeful. “I need all the information you have on Arnim Zola.”
Peggy’s eyes didn’t leave his, but they winced slightly at the corners, fine lines creasing her skin. “Steve—”
“Bucky’s alive,” Steve interrupted, voice firm. “And he needs me now more than ever.”