By the time Sophia Madison had reached the age of twenty she had only been in love, real love, exactly two times.
The first one had been with a Japanese national, who was three years her senior. She had met him when she was sixteen years old and had just started college. At this time she had also gotten herself an internship in Stark Enterprise under Howard Stark himself, that she had taken to calling him Boss. Her relationship with the Japanese national had ended two years later when he got violent with her, for not agreeing to return to Japan with him; so she could give up her career; and be a proper, submissive Japanese-style wife. She wound up with a busted lip and black eye in the fight that had ensued, which than resulted in her spending most of her time hiding away in the vastness of Stark Enterprise and later the SSR head quarters.
She had used her work and the ongoing war as an excuse to hide from him and the gifts he sent to apologize that continued to get more expensive, accompanied with letters and poems, as much as she possibly could. There were numerous times she would consider taking him back. At least until Peggy Carter would point out just how bad of an idea that would be, not only due to the increasing issues between Japan and America; but also because a silver tongue in no way made up for a violent fist. But then Pearl Harbor happened, so Sophia no longer needed to worry about possibly running into him and finally giving in to getting back together with him.
At least she didn't have to worry about it for a few years.
The second time she fell in love was through her work with the SSR and Steve Rogers, who had inadvertently introduced her to Jim Morita, an Asian-American soldier from Fresno, California.
The day she first saw Jim, Steve had just brought the POWs back from the Hydra internment camp where he presented them to Colonial Phillips, and her with a tank to take apart. The gift left her feeling and acting very much like a kid on Christmas, she adored taking things apart, as she scaled the massive piece of weaponry and caught sight of the controls. She had nearly started jumping up and down on the piece of machine in excitement at her newest toy as she started to chatter excitedly when he had caught her eye before a medic walked between them and her boss had reminded her of the rest of the things they were going to have to take apart. For awhile all thoughts of the Nisei solider vanished from her head.
Jim Morita had been full of hate ever since he and his family were shipped off to one of the Japanese internment camps. He had gotten into fights in the internment camps, scuffles over things that he and his family needed to survive the hell on earth they were all forced to live in. He hated the men who kept him in there and that his service and desire to do what was right -to fight for America- was less important, because he had Japanese blood flowing through his veins.
He had joined the army for two reasons and that was simply too fight and prove that he was an American not Japanese. Despite the fights he got into in the internment camps, with the guards and with his fellow prisoners, despite the hate and rage he kept inside; he could never bring himself to hate America. Though he's ashamed to admit that he had tried but he could never do it. His country had problems and he disliked his so-called fair share of things, even the people at times, but he could never hate it. Even when times were at their worst and his family and friends were humiliated and degraded beyond belief, he could still not hate the country he had been born in. And maybe, just maybe, if he got into enough fights then maybe the hate would die with their enemies. Because, even with all the hate in his body he could never hate America, his country no matter how often he disliked it and the people at times.
By now the hatred had worn off, working in the HYDRA POW camp insured that he had no energy to hate anyone but HYDRA, and all he felt was disappointment. Disappointment in himself for hating so much and that he allowed it to nearly swallow him whole. But mostly disappointment at the fact that his country blamed him just because of what country his parents came over from. The lingering resentment and the mistrust of the other soldiers made his life in the Hydra POW camp hell. However, eventually even that faded and the desire to survive overrode the mistrust and resentment with most of them; but for many it still lingered and everyday showed.
The resentment was why he was as surprised as he was when he saw Sophia for the first time the day he made it back to base camp and felt the white hot, searing heat that shot through him, with more accuracy than anything HYRDRA could shoot him with. It was a feeling he thought he had lost while waltzing through hell with the devil himself; but its reassurance reminded him that he was male, very much human, and very much alive.
It was the red hair, a fairly rare color, that caught his attention the first time he landed eyes on her after being saved and brought back to base by Captain Steve Rogers. She was thrilled to learn that the tank they brought back with them was an early birthday present for her to do with as she pleased.
Sophia would see him again when she got dragged by Peggy to the bar, after she had been dragged to some other party, where Steve's specially picked soldiers had all gathered to discuss his proposal of being a special unit, the Howling Commandos. The older woman had somehow talked Sophia into a midnight blue cocktail dress, while she herself wore one of scarlet. Sophia felt even more gangly than before next to Peggy who had curves that couldn't be hidden, while she herself felt like an adolescent child playing dress up in her mother's dress.
The moment Peggy had left to find Steve, she climbed onto a bar stool and removed her shoes, preferring the work boots of her lab to the heels. Somehow the removal of the shoes had signaled something, since in very little time she found herself with a drunken soldier on each side offering to buy her a drink. Her sigh of annoyance was hidden below the offers to buy her a drink as she uncrossed her legs, fixing her skirt so that it hung more modestly around her legs. She cursed Peggy for dragging her to the bar in the dress and herself for allowing it, she'd have been less noticeable and more comfortable if she were wearing her coveralls with the top tied around her waist, accompanied by one of her sleeveless shirts.
Jim had stopped singing the moment they entered the room, his eyes sliding past the taller woman and landing on the Stark employee behind her. The blue dress she was wearing fit her small frame like a glove, enhancing her dark blue eyes and fiery red hair. She looked nervous and uncomfortable, but then again, the older woman definitely filled out her red dress in a more feminine fashion than her younger companion did.
But the red head had enough feminine curves to be noticed and appreciated.
Jim, for his part, appreciated them greatly.
Once the older female Agent had gone off on her own, he'd learn later her name was Peggy Carter, who probably in search of Rogers. The younger one made her way to the bar with an attitude of someone who knew where she was going and that she really, really didn't want to be held up. She perched on the stool, crossing her legs. Jim found himself captivated by them, having caught the slight glimpse of lace at the top of the stockings she wore as she shifted her legs to remove her shoes. He watched on as two other soldiers joined her and started to hit on her.
He was more than a little pleased when he saw that she was rather unhappy with the drunken attention.
"Go away," she said flatly while trying to order a whiskey.
"Let me order you a drink."
"I can order my own drink just fine, thanks."
"Come on Doll don't be like that. Where's your patriotic duty? Why not give us a little song and dance. I've got some moves I'm sure you'll like."
"I'm not a chorus girl and I doubt I'll like whatever moves you think you've got. Now, for the last time, please just go away and dance with yourself."
It wouldn't be the first time that Sophia would wonder why soldiers and men in general have a hard time accepting rejection, or even realizing they're being rejected, for that matter. The drunker they were the harder it seemed to be for them to accept the fact that a woman was not into them. She froze from her thoughts when one of them placed a hand on her knee and moved it up her thigh nearly toughing skin instead of stocking. She reacted quickly, not even thinking as she grabbed his hand in a wrist lock while pinching down on some nerves between his thumb and forefinger, causing him to collapse to his knees in pain. The other guy she swatted with her clutch at an angle that'll cause pain without any damage. She picked up the glass of the guy who had grabbed her thigh so she could take a swig of the drink, only to nearly choke when the first taste of it slipped past her tongue and down her throat.
"God, this is terrible," she coughed, as she spat the rest of it back into the glass and dumped it on his head. "You have the WORST taste in whiskey."
She placed the glass back on the table, as she slipped from the bar stool with the intent to find Peggy. Sophia wanted to leave, but she can't leave unless Peggy was in the car with her, since said woman was the one to sign it out and she didn't want to walk back to the barracks in the heels or her bare feet.
"Peggy, are we done here or what?" she asked while heading towards the brunette's head of hair, who was undoubtedly flirting with Captain Steve "America" Rogers.
She slipped past a standing Asian soldier, probably one of the Nisei, one of the men that Steve had rescued and handpicked for his special team. Before she can reach Peggy though, she found herself slammed into a wall before being forced to stare into the face of an angry male. It was one of the guys she humiliated, the one she caused to collapse to his knees in pain.
Sophia trembled at the look in his eyes, flashes of her ex's rage flickering through her mind and drying out her throat, that he was drunk and angry with a battered ego made him all the more dangerous than he would be if he were an untrained man. But he was a soldier, and she had no doubt that even with the training she got from her uncle's roommate, he could do damage to her if he wished. She couldn't move because he certainly knew how to pin someone against a solid surface to render them helpless. As quickly as it happened, however, it was over when the man was thrown away from her and across the bar.
"Soph, you okay?"
"Yeah," she answered, shakily. "I'm fine."
Just like the good big brother he turned himself into being towards her, Steve was there. Along with him was the rest of the so-called, "top notch crew" he was putting together and that she had yet to meet. She met his worried eyes and nodded in reassurance, more to herself then to him, before she offered him a weak smile as she allowed Peggy to lead her outside while the older woman snagged her discarded shoes from the French Howling Commando on their way out.
Steve and Agent Carter were talking, with Bucky trying to flirt his way into the woman's attention. Sophia was heading towards them, wanting to leave but this didn't register. Nothing outside of them really registered in his brain. That was when he saw it. Sophia, the one he had pulled under his wing and dubbed his little sister even before he became a Super Solider, was pinned against the wall by Hodges. Steve, Bucky and Agent Carter were already moving towards them, he noted that Jim and the other Howling Commandos were also making their way over there.
He got there a split second before Jim and threw Hodges off of Sophia. The red head was obviously shaken, he could see it in the slight tremble of her hands, in the way she appeared paler than normal, making her freckles stand out even more. However, she was brave, despite the encounter. It was sure to go on Hodges file, if for no other reason than because she was connected to Howard Stark. He observed Agent Carter lead her out, before he and the rest of the top notch crew he had pulled together slowly resumed what they were doing: drinking so that they could hopefully get drunk enough to forget about the hell they found themselves in.