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After taking an early lead, they're making good progress. Greaseball feels good; everything's working as it should. Dinah is reading her moves as well as she ever has, taking the corners with ease, and making light work of the uphills. There's no feeling like being in sync with a racing partner. Coming together to form a single entity, thinking and reacting as one. It's almost as close as two people can get.
Greaseball puts a hand on Dinah's briefly as they take a corner, giving it a quick squeeze, acknowledging how well the race is going.
They complete the first lap in first place, but Greaseball knows that upstart Electra isn't far behind. She's about to step it up a gear and really turn on the speed when pain erupts through her coupling joints, rippling up her sides and along her plating. She stumbles off the track, falling and only just managing to get her hands out in time to stop her face hitting the ground.
She scrabbles up onto her feet, furious and rubbing at the hot sting in her hips. She catches sight of Silver Bullet gliding past, leaving them in last place. She gets herself moving to make chase, glancing over her shoulder to adjust her position for coupling. "Dinah, come on, let's-"
She slides to a halt when she realises Dinah's not behind her.
In fact, Dinah's not on her feet yet.
Dinah's lying facedown on the track, her body twitching.
"Dinah?" The name falls from her lips in a whisper. She's frozen to the spot, waiting for some sign that Dinah's going to get up.
She's going to lift her head.
She'll roll her eyes and shake herself off.
She'll get to her feet.
They'll make up the time.
Any second now…
She still hasn't moved.
Greaseball moves instead, speeding back towards Dinah's prone form, waving her arms at the marshalls.
"Get a mechanic! Now!"
She skids to her knees beside Dinah, her nose wrinkling at the smell of burnt metal and singed hair.
"Dinah?" She reaches out, touching her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Dinah, c'mon."
There's no response. She wants to turn her over, but she knows better than to move someone after an injury; she doesn't want to make anything worse than it already is. She rips her own helmet off, throwing it to the side and lays herself down so that she's on her front. With shaking fingers she pushes a lock of hair away from Dinah's face.
Her eyes are closed.
She's very still, apart from the occasional involuntary twitch.
"Dinah, c'mon, wake up," Greaseball begs, fingers tracing Dinah's jaw. "You're scaring me. Open your eyes."
People arrive beside them, shouting instructions, dropping kit bags. Someone tries to pull on her shoulder but she shakes them off.
"Get off me," she growls, not taking her eyes off Dinah's unmoving form.
"Greaseball, honey, come on you've got to let them work." It's Momma tugging at her now, gentler than the previous person. "You've got to let them help her. You can't get in the way."
Greaseball looks up at the old steam engine, shaking her head. "I can't-" She chokes back a sob. "I can't leave her. What if she wakes up? She'll be scared and-"
"We're not going anywhere, we just need to let them help her," Momma reassures her, taking hold of her arm and pulling her up and away from Dinah.
The mechanics move in and immediately start to assess Dinah's condition. Momma leads her away a short distance, but stops close enough that Greaseball can see what's going on.
"Do we know what happened?" The lead mechanic is addressing Greaseball now.
"It- it was a shock." Greaseball's hand moves to her side, still stinging from where she had been coupled to Dinah. "It felt like an electrical fault. I think something hit us. Hit her." It dawns on her what must have happened as Momma comes to the same conclusion.
"Electra," Momma mutters.
Greaseball feels a surge of something hot in her chest, but it's quelled when the mechanics turn Dinah over so that she's lying on her back. There's smoke coming from her abdomen and the whole area is singed.
"Dinah." Greaseball automatically moves to go to her, but Momma holds her back.
"Let them do what they need to to get her stable, honey," Momma says, her grip on Greaseball's arms gentle but firm.
"She- she'd been complaining about a niggle in her belly," Greaseball says. "Faulty wiring, she thought it might be. C-could that be why she got so hurt?"
Electric shocks can sting, but usually the pain is fleeting. Greaseball had shaken this one off, but Dinah had taken it hard.
"Could be," the lead mechanic says. "Exposed wiring with a shot of enough electricity could definitely cause something to blow."
Inhaling, Greaseball instinctively looks to Momma.
"She's breathing," Momma says, rubbing Greaseball's shoulder. "She's still here."
She's still here.
Greaseball doesn't know much about electrical damage, but she does know that it can cause long-lasting problems. Damaged circuits can mean a loss of sensation, or parts not working altogether. And it can cause problems with memory and other brain stuff. Greaseball knew an old coach when she was younger who would have a conversation, and then have the exact same one five minutes later. And it got worse over time. After a while, he just forgot how to speak. And eventually, how to live.
Other people have started to gather around them. The coaches, the freight trucks, the other engines. Greaseball ignores them. She knows if she turns and sees Electra, she'll do something stupid. And right now she can't look away from Dinah's limp body being loaded onto a trailer.
"We need to move her to the workshop," the head mechanic says, as the rest of the team continue to work on Dinah.
"I can take her," Greaseball says. "Hook the trailer up to me. I'm faster."
"We'll take her," the mechanic says, putting a hand on Greaseball's arm. "We can help her on the way. You can ride alongside if you like. Hold her hand."
Greaseball wants to argue. She could get Dinah to the workshop faster than anyone else. But she knows they're right.
"Well, get moving then," Greaseball says, rolling over to where they have Dinah laid out on the flatbed, hooked up to various diagnostic screens as the mechanics look at them and make notes on clipboards. There's a tube going into her arm, pumping some kind of fluid into her. Her face is chalk white. Her usual rosy cheeks and nose are gone. She looks-
Greaseball can't even think the word.
She ignores the continued worried chatter of the other coaches and takes Dinah's hand into her own as she hears the medical engine start up.
"Oi! You! Be gentle with her," Greaseball shouts. She doesn't want Dinah to be jostled.
"He does this every day. We'll take good care of her, champ," one of the mechanics says, and it makes Greaseball feel like throwing up.
She doesn't feel like a champion right now. She feels utterly useless.
She squeezes Dinah's hand, but there's no response and Greaseball's eyes sting with tears. Dinah's always trying to hold her hand and she so rarely lets her.
Right now, she'd give anything to feel Dinah's fingers tighten around her own.
The journey to the workshop is excruciatingly slow. Even when not racing, Greaseball would never move at this pace. She wants to scream at them to hurry up, but she knows that won't help the situation right now. Her frustration will have to wait. She'll punch a wall or something later.
Dinah still hasn't woken up. It's the stillness that's terrifying. Dinah is always on the move, always doing something. Even in sleep, she's always flopping over or kicking the covers off, or throwing her arms and legs on top of Greaseball. But since the twitching stopped, there's been nothing.
When they finally get to their destination, another mechanic comes over and has a hushed conversation with the team who had been at the track. Greaseball tries to listen, but can't make out the words. She sees the new one nod and then head in their direction. Momma has arrived as well, and is standing just behind Greaseball.
"We'll take it from here," the new mechanic says, patting Greaseball's shoulder. "She's in good hands."
"Is she gonna be okay?" Greaseball blurts out. She'd been scared to ask the whole way here. But now they're taking Dinah out of her sight, she needs to know.
"She's stable," the mechanic says, looking down at notes on a clipboard. "We have to go in and assess the damage. After that, we'll know more."
Momma puts her hands on Greaseball's shoulders. "Come on, kid, let them do what they need to."
Greaseball nods. She shrugs Momma off and moves closer to the trailer. Leaning down, she wipes some dirt from Dinah's forehead with her thumb. She presses a kiss to her cheek. She knows she should say something, but she can barely see for tears and her throat is clogged up. So she kisses her again, squeezing her hand one more time, and steps back.
The mechanics waste no time in whipping Dinah through some doors where Greaseball can't follow. She stands and watches until the doors stop swinging. Momma tugs on her arm, moving her along the corridor and pushing her down into a hard seat. Momma takes the one beside her and they sit in silence for a while. Greaseball uses the time to wipe the stupid tears that keep coming, and clear the blockage from her throat.
"She'll be okay. She's tough." Momma says, nudging Greaseball. "Tougher than you, maybe."
"She didn't look okay to me," Greaseball huffs, folding her arms.
"Listen, she's still here, kid," Momma says. "If…if she was-" Greaseball looks up sharply. "Well, it probably would have been instant, is what I'm saying."
On some level, Greaseball knows Momma's right. If Dinah's circuits had completely blown, then that would have been it. Lights out, literally. But that hadn't happened. She was still breathing, there was still life in her.
"I should've made her get that dodgy wiring looked at," Greaseball says, leaning her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her hands. "I knew we had this race coming up. I should have-"
"Coulda, woulda, shoulda," Momma says, patting Greaseball on the back. "Dinah's a big girl, she knows how to take care of herself. She's raced with worse. So you have you. You didn't know this was going to happen."
"Fucking Electra," Greaseball spits, sitting up. "You know I'm going to kill them, right?"
Momma gives her a stern look. "No. You're not. You're going to be far too busy looking after Dinah to care about vengeance."
"They hurt Dinah," Greaseball says, like that explains everything. "If it was an accident…if we'd crashed and got into a wreck-" She shudders at the thought of Dinah being hurt that way. "That's part of racing, I get that. But this-" She grinds her teeth together. "This was deliberate." Greaseball punches her own knee. "And what's worse is that they hurt her. She took the brunt of it. If they'd hit me, fine, but not her."
"Why would it be fine if they'd hit you?" Momma asks.
"Well, it wouldn't be fine," Greaseball admits. "I'd still kick their tinny arse for it. But Dinah…she's my girl and-"
"And do you think if they'd hit you instead, Dinah would be out rampaging around, looking to kill someo-" Momma stops, tilts her head. "Actually, maybe she would. That girl has it bad for you."
Greaseball smiles. "Yeah, she can get pretty steamed up over that kind of thing." She glances at Momma. "No offence."
"But she wouldn't do it, is the point," Momma says. "What would Dinah do if you were hurt?"
Sighing, Greaseball looks down at her hands. It's not even a theoretical question. It's happened dozens of times. She knows what Dinah would do. "She'd be there for me. She'd- she'd take care of me."
"Exactly," Momma says. "So just you put Electra out of your mind. The marshalls and Control are dealing with them for now, and I'll be seeing them when I leave here. You just focus on Dinah."
"I hate this," Greaseball growls. "I hate sitting here doing nothing when she's in there and I don't even know if she's awake or she's hurting or anything."
"I know you do," Momma drapes an arm around her shoulders. "I know. But she's where she needs to be for now. You'll be the first to see her, you mark my words."
Greaseball closes her eyes and tries to focus on getting to see Dinah's smiling face, full of life and love.
"Momma?"
"Hmmm?"
"What if-" She sucks in a breath. "What if she's not okay?"
Momma squeezes her shoulders tighter. "Then we'll be there for her. We'll take care of her."
Greaseball nods.
It's hours later when the doors finally open again. Momma had drifted off to sleep against Greaseball's shoulder, but Greaseball was too worried to even rest her eyes. The same mechanic from before emerges. Greaseball nudges Momma awake and gets to her feet, rolling towards the news, whatever it may be. As she draws closer, she can see the mechanic is smiling and she holds her breath.
"It's good news," the mechanic says.
Greaseball feels like she might throw up on the floor from sheer relief. Momma rolls up beside her, taking her hand.
"She's okay?" Momma asks, because it seems that Greaseball is beyond coherent speech.
"The circuit damage turned out to be very localised, and we were able to make an almost complete repair. We'll have to wait and do some more cognitive and motor tests in a few weeks, but I expect her to make a full recovery."
"She's okay?" Greaseball says, a minute behind.
"She's okay," the mechanic confirms. "She'll be sore for a few days. An electrical shock like she took causes the muscles to seize and tense up, so she'll be achey. And around the area of the repair will be tender. But other than that, she's in top condition."
Greaseball turns away, covering her face. Hot tears spill down her cheeks, running between the spaces in her fingers. She can hear Momma and the mechanic still talking behind her, but she doesn't care.
Dinah's okay.
A hand on her shoulder makes her jump, and she rubs at her face, wiping her nose with her arm, and turns back around. Momma smiles.
"She's awake."
"She's awake!" Greaseball had somehow forgotten this would be a possibility.
"We've given her a sedative and painkillers to let her sleep off the worst of the muscle pain," says the mechanic. "So she might be a little spaced out and she won't be awake for long, but you can go in and see her."
"Go on, kid," Momma says, giving her a shove. "Go and give her a kiss from me.
There's a fluttering in Greaseball's engine like she can't remember feeling since her first date with Dinah. The nervous anticipation grows as she rolls down the corridor and into the room indicated by the mechanic. Opening the door, she's greeted by the most glorious sight. Dinah's propped up in bed, awake, and smiling. Her eyes widen when they land on Greaseball.
"Greasebaaaalllll! You're here!"
"I'm here," Greaseball says, moving closer to the bed, and taking hold of Dinah's hand, squeezing it. The squeeze is returned and Greaseball almost bursts into tears again. "Where else would I be?" She bends down and kisses Dinah's forehead, getting a pleased hum in response. She sits down in the chair by the bed. "How are you feeling?"
Dinah sighs dramatically. "They said I hurt myself," she confides. "But I think they made a mistake 'cause I feel great!" Dinah smiles at Greaseball, but it drops into a look of concern. "Have you been crying?"
"Uh-" Greaseball rubs at her cheeks with her free hand. "I-yeah, I was." It feels pretty liberating not to hide her feelings for once.
"Why?" Dinah asks, suddenly aghast. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
Greaseball shakes her head with a smile. Of course Dinah would be more concerned about her. "I'm not hurt. I was worried about you."
"About me?" Dinah frowns. "You were crying because you were worried about me?"
Biting back the urge to deny it, Greaseball nods. "Yeah. You got hurt. I was worried."
"Awwww, baby!" Dinah grins. "I'm okay. You don't need to cry!" Languid and uncoordinated from whatever substances are coursing through her circuits, Dinah pulls her hand free and throws out her arm, her hand clumsily landing on Greaseball's cheek, pawing at it. "You're sooooo pretty."
Greaseball laughs and strokes Dinah's hair away from her forehead. "And you're so high."
"Yeah," Dinah agrees with a nod. Her nose wrinkles. "But you'll still be pretty when I'm not."
Greaseball is surprised to feel tears prick at the backs of her eyes. Again. "Yeah, I will be."
Satisfied, Dinah hums, her hand sliding to the back of Greaseball's neck and down to rest over her shoulder. "I love you, you know?" Dinah says. She slaps her other hand onto her own chest. "I love you so much that sometimes I think my heart might explode from all the feelings in it."
Swallowing hard, Greaseball struggles to form words around that stupid thing that keeps lodging itself in her throat. "Dinah, I-"
"An' it's okay if you don't love me as much as I love you," Dinah continues, not having noticed Greaseball's attempt at a response. "Even if you love me just a li'l bit, that's still fine. That's more than fine. That's really good."
"Dinah," Greaseball interjects, her chest aching. "I love you, okay? Way more than a little bit."
A bright, if slightly lopsided, smile makes an appearance on Dinah's face. "You love me?"
"Of course I love you," Greaseball says. "How could you not-" Greaseball stops, presses her lips together. "I've told you before, haven't I?"
Dinah's smile fades. "Well, I tell you that I love you and if nobody's around you'll say 'me too, babe' or 'back at ya'." She points a finger at Greaseball and makes a 'pew' noise. "And sometimes you do the finger guns."
Greaseball cringes. Yeah, that sounds bad. Especially because it's true. She closes her eyes, head bowed. Dinah's hand moves to her neck, scratching gently beneath her hair.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Dinah whispers.
"It's not," Greaseball spits, lifting her head and taking Dinah's hand in her own, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, leaving her lips resting against them. "Dinah, it's really not okay that you're not sure I love you. We live together, for Starlight's sake! We- I-" She shakes her head. "I'm not good at saying stuff like that. I've never had anybody to say it to before. Or anybody who said it to me. So when you came along, with your big smile, and your hand-holding and your 'I love yous' I…I've never really known what to do with it."
"I know. I know that," Dinah says, squeezing Greaseball's hand. "And tha's okay."
"Stop saying it's okay!" Greaseball only just manages to stop herself from yelling. "It's not okay, Dinah. You're so lovely. You deserve someone who can say nice things to you and who'll hold your hand."
"I don't deserve someone like that," Dinah argues, her brow creasing up in confusion. "Wait, I mean, I don't want someone like that. Nope, still wrong." She frowns deeper and sighs. "I don't want someone who isn't you."
"Dinah," Greaseball murmurs, pressing Dinah's hand to her cheek. "You've got me. And I love you. And I'm gonna tell you that all the time."
Dinah laughs, but it twists into a yawn. She shakes her head. "You don'hafta do that."
"I'm gonna tell you every single day," Greaseball insists. "You can't stop me."
Dinah considers this, lips pursed, her thumb stroking just under Greaseball's eye. "Hmmm. Tha's a lot to start off with. Maybe once a week?"
Greaseball laughs, and it releases something that was wound tight inside of her. For the first time since she saw Dinah sprawled across that damn track, it feels like everything might be okay.
"Once a week, then," she agrees.
Dinah smiles. Her blinks are growing longer. "I'm prob'ly going to forget all this. You know that, right?"
"I know, babe," Greaseball tells her. "But I won't. I'll remind you."
"'Kay. Promise?"
"I promise."
"'Kay." Dinah sighs and her eyes drift closed. She cracks one of them open. "How about you tell me again just now? For practice?"
Greaseball grins and leans over to kiss Dinah's cheek. "I love you, Dinah."
Dinah hums in contentment, eyes closed, blindly patting at Greaseball's face. "Yeah, s'nice to hear."
Her hand falls away as sleep finally takes her. Greaseball watches her sleep for a few minutes, reassured by the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the colour in her cheeks. She kisses the hand she's holding and places it on the bed before getting up and rolling to the door. She pauses as she opens it, looks back and makes sure Dinah is definitely asleep and won't miss her. Satisfied she can leave for a few minutes to update Momma, she hurries along the corridor.
It's busier than when she left. Dinah's coach friends have arrived, and Rusty is rolling back and forth. They all stop talking and look at her as she approaches. Momma stands up and raises her eyebrows.
"Well?"
Greaseball nods. "She's okay. She's asleep."
A cacophony of relief fills the quiet corridor until Tassita shushes them all, reminding them that there are sleeping patients around.
"She's really okay?" Belle asks, rolling up to Greaseball. "No lasting damage?"
"They don't think so," Greaseball says. She feels her lips quirk into a smile. "She was pretty out of it from the painkillers, so it's kinda hard to tell, but she's definitely still Dinah."
"Can we see her?" Rusty pipes up.
Greaseball flinches at the question. She hadn't expected them to want to see her, for some reason, though that now seems stupid. A fierce protectiveness rises up in her. Dinah's had enough to cope with for one day, she doesn't need to have to be answering stupid questions and putting on a brave face for a roomful of people. Thankfully, before she can insult anyone with her response, Momma intervenes.
"I think we'll leave Dinah in Greaseball's hands for tonight. It's been a big day and she needs her rest." Momma puts a hand on Greaseball's shoulder and squeezes. "We'll come by in the morning with a change of clothes and see how she is then. Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah, yeah of course," Greaseball nods, relieved. "Thanks Momma."
That seems to satisfy the crowd and they start making preparations to leave. Greaseball clears her throat. "I uh- I have to get back to her now," Greaseball says, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. "I don't want to leave her alone too long."
Pearl makes an unnecessary 'awwww' noise, but Greaseball can't even be bothered to glare at her.
"Take good care of her," Tassita says. "And give her our love."
"You know I will," Greaseball tells him.
Belle's responding 'hmmmph' is more than a little sceptical, but Greaseball barely registers it. She gives the group a final wave and heads back to where she'd come from, keen to be back with Dinah.
Entering the room, her engine immediately calms at the sight of Dinah still sleeping peacefully. She takes her seat beside the bed once more, lays her head down on the bed next to Dinah's.
And finally, she closes her eyes.
Slowly, she becomes aware of something touching her. There's a repetitive scratching just above her ear. It's pretty soothing. It feels like what Dinah does when they're lying on the couch together in the evening watching TV.
Dinah.
She sits up, blinking against the harsh lighting in the unfamiliar room. Her vision soon clears and lands on Dinah, looking at her with such unadulterated affection it almost hurts to return the gaze.
Dinah smiles. "Morning sleepyhead," she says, sounding more like herself than she had the last time she was awake.
"Mmmmph." Greaseball coughs to clear her throat. "You're awake," she croaks, sliding her hand into Dinah's and squeezing. She doesn't miss the way Dinah's smile brightens at the gesture. "Should've woken me."
"You looked peaceful," Dinah says, her smile turning impish. "And cute."
"M'not cute," Greaseball grumbles, but she pushes up and brushes a kiss across Dinah's lips, not lingering long enough for her to return it. "How are you feeling?"
Dinah shifts a little on the bed, and whimpers, her face crumpling in pain. "Sore."
Greaseball nods. "Yeah, they said that you'd feel it today. Electricity makes all your muscles contract and seize up. It's like you did an extreme workout, babe." She runs a finger over Dinah's bicep. "You might end up with bigger muscles than me!"
Dinah laughs, then groans, clutching at her abdomen. "Oh! Ow. Don't make me laugh. Hurts."
Greaseball stands up, at a loss for what to do to make things better. "I- I'll go and get a mechanic to-"
"No," Dinah says, through clenched teeth. She touches Greaseball's arm, panting through the pain. "Help me move onto my side so I can see you better."
"I don't know if that's-" But Dinah's already pushing herself up on her elbow, so Greaseball tries to help as best she can, easing Dinah over so she's lying on her side. She adjusts the pillow so Dinah's neck isn't at a weird angle, and sits down again. Dinah's eyes are clenched shut and she's breathing heavily. Greaseball strokes her hair away from her sweaty forehead. "Please let me get someone. They can give you more stuff for the pain."
"I just-" Dinah swallows, opens her eyes. She reaches for Greaseball's hand and holds it against her chest, sighing as the worst of the pain passes. "I just want to be with you for a little while. Just the two of us."
Greaseball's frown softens. "Babe," she murmurs. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. But I don't want you to be in pain."
"You were there," Dinah says. "When the accident happened." Greaseball clenches her teeth at the word 'accident', but doesn't interject. "I remember hearing your voice. It felt like my insides were screaming. But I remember your voice."
"I was there," Greaseball confirms. She looks down at their joined hands, rubbing her thumb over Dinah's knuckles. "I- I didn't want you to be alone. I didn't want you to wake up and be scared."
Dinah smiles, love and gratitude swirling together in her eyes. "I was terrified. I couldn't move. But when I heard your voice, I knew it would all be okay."
"Well that's more than I knew," Greaseball admits. "It was-" She swallows, flashing back to that awful sight. "It was horrible. Seeing you like that, it-" She blows out a breath.
"Can you get up here for a cuddle?" Dinah asks, patting the space on the bed. "I think we both need one."
"I'll hurt you," Greaseball says, drawing back, but Dinah keeps hold of her hand. "I don't want to-"
"You won't, I promise," Dinah implores, doing that face where she makes her eyes all big and sad.
"That's not fair, using those eyes on me," Greaseball says, but she's already climbing onto the bed, carefully easing herself down beside Dinah. Dinah shifts closer, pressing her face into Greaseball's neck. She sighs.
"You stink."
Greaseball laughs. She turns her head to try and sniff herself. Diesel and sweat. "I'm not surprised. Want me to move?"
"No. Stay." Dinah buries her face deeper, folding herself into Greaseball's embrace until she finds her usual nook. "You smell like home."
For a moment, Greaseball can't respond, her throat is too thick. She presses her lips together and tightens her arms around Dinah, lifting a hand to rest against the back of her head. She closes her eyes.
"There's um- there's something that I- that I need to say to you." Greaseball begins. Dinah lifts her head, wincing, but nods for Greaseball to continue. She takes a deep breath. "I said this to you last night, but you were pretty out of it, so I think I need to repeat it." Greaseball swallows. "I love you, Dinah."
Dinah's eyebrows shoot up, eyes filling with tears and lower lip starting to tremble. "Awww, sweetheart, I love you too."
"I know you do," Greaseball says. "But, last night you said you weren't sure how I felt about you. And I want to fix that and make sure you know that I love you. And that I'm sorry I ever made you doubt it. I'm just- I'm not good with that stuff, but I should have been better."
"Greaseball," Dinah says, shaking her head. "I must have been off my face last night. I don't need you to be anybody other than you. That's who I fell in love with."
"I want to be better, though. And I will be. I'm gonna work at it, so hard!"
Dinah laughs, but it's cut off by a sob. She covers her mouth, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm crying."
"It's okay," Greaseball says, pulling her close again so that her face is pressed against her shoulder. She lets Dinah cry, ashamed that just saying those three little words has caused this reaction. "And I'm gonna be better at other stuff," she says, her voice rough. "I'm gonna hold your hand. And I'm not gonna flirt with anyone else. And I'm-"
Dinah pushes herself up and puts a finger over Greaseball's lips, stopping her speaking. She leans down and replaces her finger with her own lips, dropping a soft kiss there. "Sweetheart, I appreciate this new emotional literacy, I really do, and we will definitely talk about it more when I get home, but it's been a scary time for you and I don't want you feeling like you need to make all these promises to make me happy just because I got a little banged up."
"That's not the reason," Greaseball protests. Off Dinah's sceptical expression, she relents. "Okay, maybe it's part of the reason. But seeing you hurt-" Greaseball closes her eyes. "Thinking you might not-"
A gentle hand cups her cheek and she opens her eyes to find Dinah looking down at her like she's the most precious thing in the world. "I'm here," Dinah says. "And you're here. And that's all that matters right now."
"There's nowhere else I'd wanna be, babe," Greaseball says, then reconsiders. "Well, no, I'd rather be at home, in our bed, and for you not to be injured."
Dinah lifts an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
"Not like that!" Greaseball protests, rolling her eyes. "Look, I'm trying to be romantic or whatever."
Dinah laughs and settles back on top of Greaseball, wiggling back into her favourite position. "And I enjoy you trying to be romantic or whatever," Dinah tells her, smiling against her neck.
"Well, you better get used to it," Greaseball says. "I'm gonna be the best damn girlfriend you've ever had."
"You already are," Dinah says, squeezing her midsection. "My champion."
For a moment, Greaseball's mind flits to the race and how the events of yesterday's heat will affect the championship. And she finds that she doesn't care. Yesterday, all that mattered was winning, being the best, being the fastest.
Right now, Dinah is warm and safe and happy in her arms.
Greaseball realises that she's already won.