Story Title: Immigrant Song

Summary: Myka's life is turned upside down after a freak accident leaves her stranded and alone in an alternate universe with familiar looking strangers. Steve/Oc

Warnings: Rated T for language.

Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance/Humor

Disclaimer: Maybe if I wished really hard, I could own the Avengers, but as of now – I do not –sad face- so I'll just enjoy writing about them as much as possible.

Author's Note: Like so many before me, I have fallen hard for the Avengers. And after giving it much thought, I decided I wanted to give shot =) so I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to review. This story takes place before and during the avengers.

Songs used in this chapter are: With a Girl Like You by the Troggs and Wonderful! Wonderful by Johnny Mathis

Chapter one:

It's a Wonderful Life

"I want - to spend my life - with a girl like you ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba – and - do all the things – that you want me to ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba…"

Bobbing her head up and down, Myka smiled as she sang along. She tapped her fingers gently against the steering wheel in time with the beat of the music that played on her radio, filling her car. She loathed admitting it, but she loved this song, could possible never get tired of it – the upbeat rhythm, the lyrics. She'd be lying if she said she had never imaged this song playing in one of her romantic daydreams – her love interest professing his love John Cusack style, bomb-box and all.

She shook her head at the daydream, reaching over, but eyes never leaving the rainy, wet road, to turn up the volume. Yeah. She was a weird one.

"Till that time has come… that we might live as one – can I dance with you?"

"…Can I dance with you?" She sang a little bit louder, as though she were competing with the raging thunderstorm outside, but was drowned out by a loud – boom! – emanating from above, and, what felt like, all around. She jumped slightly, stiffening at the sound. A sharp eeep escaped her lips, the lyrics to With a Girl Like You quickly forgotten as she stared worriedly at the road ahead of her, the windscreen wipers doing its best to clear the raindrops from her view.

She shook her head again, pushing her dark locks behind her ear.

I hate thunderstorms, she thought, but reminded herself that braving this storm would be worth it. She was close to her parent's home now, and would soon be safe and sound… with a home cooked meal and cake! At least she hoped that they had saved her some cake. Vultures.

She was driving to her parent's home for her mother's forty-second birthday, and though she knew she should be in her tiny apartment, studying for her morning finals, she decided that being with her family, at least for a couple of hours, wouldn't hurt. Besides, her mother would kill her if she missed her birthday. And that scared her more than failing her finals.

When she finally reached her parents two-story house, which was under some reconstruction, being done by her carpenter step-father, as it was an old house, the rain had not let up, but she let out a sigh of relief at not being on the road anymore. She scanned the few cars on the street, pleased to see that none had parked in the driveway and wondered how she was going to get her mom's gift into the house without it getting ruined. She regretted not bringing her book bag, or a plastic bag for that matter, but she had not expected it to rain.

The storm seemed to come from nowhere.

Unable to think of a better idea, she quickly shrugged off her leather jacket and wrapped the photo album-looking book, making sure it was nice and secure. She had worked hard on this gift for months and she'd be damned if she'd let a little rain – another crack of thunder erupted, interrupting her inner rant and she shrieked a little, cursed under her breath at how much of a baby she was. She grabbed her purse, and stepped out of her car, running towards the front door, hugging her leather jacket against her chest, tightly.

She didn't bother knocking, knowing well that her mom never locked the door when there were a lot of people coming over.

"Hello, hello!" Myka called out as she stepped into the house, she was greeted by the sound of loud chatter, and soft music.

"Mikey's home! Mikey's home," a voice sang, and a small, curly haired child came into view, wearing a flowery pink dress, and white flats. She was smiling widely, racing towards her with her arms outstretched. "Mikey, Mikey!"

Myka rolled her eyes, but smiled back as she placed her mom's present down to pick up the four-year-old in her arms, giving her a tight squeeze. The little girl didn't seem to mind that she was wet. "Birdie, how many times do you I have to tell you – my name isn't Mikey," the little girl listened on, intently, hazel eyes wide. "My name is Myka. My-ka."

The little girl giggled, her tiny hands on the older girl's shoulders, pushing away as she shook her head. "My name not 'Birdie'".

The other girl titled her head to the side in mock confusion. "But isn't a Robin a type of bird?" The little girl hesitated, and shrugged her shoulders, nodding her head uncertainly. "Well then you're a bird," Myka said, tickling her cousin. Both girls giggled.

"Well hey there, Frodo," her older cousin, Miguel greeted her as he walked into the foyer, wearing that stupid grin on his face that showed he was quite pleased with himself. It was identical to the goofy grin the small girl in her arms, who was currently trying to braid her wet hair, wore when she did something bad. "Good to see you out of the Shire."

Myka rolled her eyes at the nickname, and fought the urge to tell her older cousin to shove it. She was used to him making fun of her height. She was, after all, the shortest 'adult' (and she used the term adult loosely) from her mother's side of the family, who she was closer to, as her father was an only child and didn't have much family, but she was tired of reminding him that Hobbits were a lot shorter than five-foot-two, and she was perfectly fine with her height, thank you very much. But the two bickered like siblings, being only two years apart in age, and having grown up together. Miguel could never turn down a chance to poke fun at her, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it annoyed her to be called 'Frodo'.

"Right back at you, Sasquatch," she shot back, making fun of his six-foot-four frame. He really was a giant, she noted. Though he was no Hulk, he was pretty muscular, and did make her look like a hobbit in comparison.

She didn't miss the way his jaw clenched in annoyance - Mission accomplished – but he chuckled, shaking his head. "We were worried you wouldn't make it because of the storm," he told her, gesturing to the window.

She shrugged like it was no big deal. "Psh. Like I'd let a little rain keep me away." Even though I'm ridiculously terrified of storms, she thought but didn't say out loud. Miguel raised an eyebrow, already knowing she was afraid, but didn't say anything in front of Robin. In her eyes Myka was fearless, and not wanting the little girl to know that, she pushed most of her fears to the back of her mind, at least while she was around. "Where's the birthday girl?"

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, "in the living room with James and everyone. You might want to dry off first – you're all wet –" Myka resisted the urge to make a 'that's what she said' joke, again, for Robin's sake – "aaand now you are too," he said, shaking his head as he took the little girl out of her arms. "Let go get you cleaned up!"

Before he walked away, Myka called out, "Hey, please tell me there's still cake!"

"No worries, Myk. I made sure we waited for you."

"Yes!"

She grabbed her mom's present and began to walk up the stairs when she heard Robin exclaim, "No daddy, her name not Mike. Her name My-ka!" This made her laugh a little, hearing the younger girl, who, no matter how many times she was told, could never really get her name right, correcting her father.

Myka quickly made her way to her old bedroom, wanting to join her family as soon as possible. Upon opening the door, she smiled at the familiarity of it. The room had been hers up until a year ago when she was finally able to afford a tiny one bedroom apartment in the city. She was pleasantly surprised to find that her mother and James hadn't moved anything, not even her posters.

She peeled off her wet clothes, dried herself off with a towel and put on a black buttoned up, long sleeve shirt with blue jeans. She silently thanked herself for being smart enough to leave some clothes behind when she moved, and decided to go barefoot at the last second, excuse being that she didn't have any dry shoes. Once she tied her hair in a donut bun, she headed downstairs to join the party with the present in her arms.

She greeted everyone along the way, surprised that so many people had come over on a Thursday evening, and smiled politely as she made her way to her mom, who was standing by the fireplace with her stepfather, James.

"Hey guys," she greeted her parents, making herself known.

Her mother turned. ""¡Por fin!, I was so worried about you!" She exclaimed in her heavy accent as she pulled Myka into a hug.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, pulling away. "Happy birthday, mama. This is for you," she handed the leather jacket to the older woman, who eyed it in confusion. Myka turned her attention to her Stepfather.

After her biological father died when she was only seven-years-old, Myka swore she would never love another man as much as she loved him, would never be as close to anyone as she had been with him, but that promise began to disintegrate when her mother started dating James when she was twelve-years-old. Though she had initially disliked the man for wanting to take her dad's place, he won her affection after many months of trying when he took her out for ice cream and had a long talk with her.

"I know that I could never take your daddy's place," he had told her. "I wouldn't even know how, because I know that I could never fill his shoes, but I love your mom very much. And I hope that, someday, you can make a place for me like I have for you."

She was still hurting over her dad's death, but having James in her life, though at the time she would never admit it, made it easier to deal with. She knew she was being selfish.

Her mother and James were married the following year. And though, he told her, just because they were married, she didn't have to call him dad if it made her uncomfortable. She did so that father's day after her mother miscarried.

Her birthfather would always be daddy. James would always be dad.

"Glad you made it safely. Your mom almost had me go out looking for you," he chuckled, pulling her into a bear hug, his massive frame engulfing her. He kissed her cheek, his full beard scratching her face, and went to ruffle her hair like he usually did, but stopped when she gave him a look that clearly stated he shouldn't. She gave a loud sigh of relief when he didn't. He looked down at her feet when he let go of her completely. "Going natural tonight, are we, little hippy? All you're missing is the crown of flowers."

She considered this, "That actually sounds cute. Don't give me any idea."

"You could have put on some slippers," her mother interjected. "Or you could have borrowed mine."

The younger girl glanced down at her bare feet then her mother's, "Mom, we wear different sizes. Besides no one's going to care."

Her mother rolled her eyes, in the same manner as Myka, and the younger girl grinned. Her mom shook her head, and turned her attention to her guests. "Now that my baby is home –" (Mom, seriously?") "- We can finally eat!"

"Little baby," Myka heard her cousin tease as he walked passed her, Robin clinging to his neck.

"You're so lucky," she threatened him, motioning to the little girl.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Come on everyone," James said, ushering everyone into the dinning room. "Marie," he called out to Miguel's mother, "Help me in the kitchen?"

Once everyone had cleared the living room, her mother began to make her way to the dinning room, but Myka reached out to stop her. "Wait, mom. You didn't open your gift," she said, motioning to the present that laid on the fireplace mantel. She grabbed it, and handed it to her mother, who, again, eyed it curiously. "Open it." She did so. "It's a scrapbook," she elaborated, watching her mother flip through it, feeling just a little bit self-conscious.

She felt bad that she couldn't afford to buy her mother something extravagant, working at her school's library did not pay a lot, but when she noticed her mom's eyes becoming watery, she knew she'd gotten her the right gift.

The scrapbook was filled with pictures, old movie tickets, poems the younger girl had written, dedicated to her mother, drawings and a few other things that meant a lot to both women.

When her mother finally reached the last page, Myka watched as she raised a hand to her mouth, covering her smile. The heading on the page was titled: 'Mi Familia' in their native language. Underneath the cursive writing were three of her favorite pictures.

One was an old picture, edges slightly creased. In it was a young looking man, in his early twenties, bent forward slightly. Behind him, head poking out from behind his shoulder was a six-year-old Myka. Her arms were wrapped around her daddy's neck, smiling wide enough to show off her missing front teeth. Her mother stood beside them, her arm slung over the little girl, smiling beautifully.

The second picture held a seventeen-year-old Myka, sitting in between her stepfather, whom she was leaning against as she laughed, eyes squinted, and her mother, who was looking at them with an amused smile on her face.

The last picture was the most recent of Myka and her mother. They were both wearing hats they had bough that day. Myka had her hands gripping the edges of her boulder hat as if it were being blown away, while her mother rocked a black floppy sun hat.

Her mother continued to smile as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and she closed the scrapbook, holding it close to her chest. "Me encanta. Gracias, amor," she said, pulling Myka into a hug.

"You're very welcome," the younger girl whispered, returning the hug, her own eyes watering a little. She thought back to all the hard times she'd gone through with her mother, ups and downs like any other daughter and mother. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too. Now," her mother said, letting her go, but not entirely. "I have something for you," she said in a slight whisper, and walked to the other side of the room, opening a drawer and coming back with a small box. "I've been wanting to give this to you for a while now, but could not find a good time," she said handing it to her.

"Aren't you the one who's suppose to be getting gifts?" Myka asked, jokingly, opening the box. Inside was a silver necklace – a dream catcher, about the size of a quarter, with a lone feather dangling from it. "It's beautiful."

"It's yours. Your daddy bought it for you when you were little, but because you were always… losing things, I decided to keep it for you," she carefully took the necklace out of the box, and slipped the long silver chain around her neck. "After he died, I couldn't bear to look at anything that reminded me of him… so I hid it away, and forgot about it, but I found it recently and knew you should have it. He would want you to have it."

"Thank you," Myka said, fiddling with it. It was from her dad. She smiled. "I love it."

Her mother returned her smile, and placed an arm over the shorter girl's shoulder, "Come. Let's go join everyone," she said, leading her into the dinning room with everyone.

"Finally," Miguel called out, patting a chair beside him. "I saved you a seat."

Myka rolled her eyes, but went to sit beside him. She spent the rest of her night bickering with her older cousin, taking pictures with everyone, explaining to her family why she suddenly decided that she wanted to be a teacher after two years of majoring in psychology, and telling stories to Robin about princesses who kicked major butt. Towards the end of the night, they finally cut the cake. And after devouring the first piece of chocolate cake, she went to get another one, but stopped when her mother commented on how she hadn't wanted to mention it before but she was gaining weight, which her aunt Maria seemed to agree with.

Feeling self-conscious, she touched her belly and frowned. She knew she was slightly over-weight, but she didn't need anyone pointing that out. She let her mother take the cake from her hands, shoulders slumped in disappointment, but then another piece of cake appeared in front of her.

"You look beautiful," her stepfather said, handing her the piece of cake as he kissed her temple. "Don't tell mom."

Myka giggled. "You're the best."

It was nearing ten-o'clock when Myka decided it was time to head home, hoping to get few hours of studying done before bed.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Her stepfather asked, looking out the window. The rain had not stopped, if anything it seemed to have gotten worse. "Or I could drive you."

"No, that's okay." She put on her leather jacket, "And I would but I left all my books at home and I really need to study," she told him. "I'll be okay."

He nodded, but didn't seem, at all, happy with the idea of her driving in the storm.

"Call when you get home," her mother made her promise, giving her a hug and a kiss goodbye. "And thank you for the gift. I love you."

She smiled, "I love you too, both of you. I'll call as soon as I get in – promise." She looked towards the living room, spying Miguel on the couch with a sleeping Robin. "Bye, Sasquatch. We're still on for dinner Saturday, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Frodo," he replied, adjusting the little girl. "I'll tell her you said bye."

She bid everyone else goodbye with a wave, and rushed out of the house to her car, the strong wind nearly blowing her away, which startled her. It didn't take long before she was finally on the road, and wasn't surprised that they were empty. No one would be crazy enough to be out in this weather, save for her. It was creepy and totally quiet, well, aside from the heavy raindrops, howling wind and thunder.

She reached over to turn the radio on, changing stations until she finally found a song she liked. She was in luck – it was just starting.

"Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea," Myka sang along. "And we breathe in the cool salty air… You turn to me with a kiss in your eyes, and my heart – shit!

Myka shrieked as a bolt of lightening struck a tree just a head of her, hitting it in just the right spot, causing it to fall over and block the road in front of her. Panicking and unable to stop in time, she turned the wheel sharply, causing the car to spin uncontrollably on the wet pavement. Her heart flew to her throat, cutting off her scream and ability to breathe. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears, and all she could think of was her mom.

After what felt like an eternity, her car stopped spinning and Myka lurched forward, seatbelt digging into her chest. The grip she held on her steering wheel did not loosen for some time, knuckles going pale and her poor heart was beating so fast she was sure it would burst out of her numb body.

"…There you are, darling, only you and I …"

She glanced down at the radio, the music somewhat pulling her out of her shocked state. She tried to calm her shaking body, but was unable to.

Relax. It's okay. You're alive.

Unable to get her breathing under control, Myka opened her car door and stepped out into the rain, hoping it would help. She looked around, her car's high beams lighting the dark rode in the direction she'd just come from. She turned to look at the tree that had fallen in the direction she needed to go. Rubbing her hands over her face, she decided it would probably be best to go back to her parent's home, but wouldn't tell them what happened, at least, not yet.

"…And we're lost in a world of our own…"

Another crack of thunder sounded, causing her to scream and reach for the driver's side door, but before she could get into the car she felt the worse, most agonizing pain in her life, more painful than any tattoo she'd ever received. More painful than any injury she'd ever endured in her life. The sharp, burning sensation hit the back of her spine, tossing her a few feet away from the car as the heat spread through her entire body, and she vaguely wondered if she'd been struck by lightening. It had. And then her sight went white; a bright light enveloped her as her eyes closed shut.

When the light finally faded, Myka was gone.

Her car was still on - windscreen wipers still clearing raindrops, driver's side door wide open with the high beams still illuminating the darkness. Her car's radio was still playing…

"… It's wonderful, wonderful… oh, so wonderful my love."

But Myka was gone.

Translation:

¡Por fin! – At last!

Me encanta. Gracias, amor. – I love it. Thank you, love.

Mi Familia - My family

Please review! =)