A/n 1: In this story (and, indeed, likely in any further stories I might publish for this fandom), I am going with the idea that Steve is a practicing Jew. He is not perfect at it, but does his best. He learned to read Hebrew at his local synagogue (I had to learn a little bit for my coming-of-age ceremony in my congregation, and I feel like being able to read at least well enough to get by would have been important to Steve). That ability was increased with the serum. Now, Steve can fluently read and speak modern Hebrew and fluently read Biblical Hebrew. However, he has kept this to himself, and mainly uses it during his devotions and studies.
A/n 2: There is Hebrew in this fic. It is transliterated into English letters to make it easier to read/ignore. I provide English translations in italics, but Steve is not saying them, only the Hebrew.
A/n 3: The prayer Steve is saying at the beginning of the story is the Mourner's Kaddish. In my congregation, this prayer is said communally each Sabbath. Those who are remembering the death of a loved one stand and recite the main portions with one of our Elders, while the rest of the congregation provides support for them. I have always found comfort in that method, and so decided Steve's congregation did the same. There is no "right" way to pray this prayer (that I am aware of), and do not mean for this story to insinuate that this is the only way to recite this prayer.
Towards the end (the Hebrew is in BOLD with translations still in italics), Steve switches to Psalms 88. I skipped around quite a bit, to find the verses that *really* applied to Steve. However, the entire chapter is absolutely heart-wrenching and I recommend reading it.
A/n 4: I am quite new to the Marvel fandom, and so I know I will make mistakes when it comes to plot lines here and there. I try to do as much research as I can in and around RL and college. However, this is fanfiction, and I'm having fun. Constructive criticism is appreciated, especially if it helps me fix said plot line mistakes. However, flames will be used to roast the marshmallows and hot dogs my Plot Bunnies enjoy sometimes. :D
A/n 5: I think that's everything (I hope!). :/ If you have any questions/concerns, drop me a note and I will do my best to clear things up.
A MASSIVE THANK YOU, to Tori of Lorien for her help with this story. If it hadn't been for her, this story either would have sat neglected for far too long or would not have been written in the first place. You are the best, my friend!
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Though, Tori and I are contemplating staging a mission to kidnap most of the characters so they can receive love and affection for once.
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"Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei."
The words filled the almost empty room. A lone man sat in one of the unused rooms of the Avenger Tower. His hands were clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. The lights in the room were off, but the lights of New York twinkled in through the window. They cast a mix of shadows and glow along the wall at his side, catching the highlights in his blond hair and dancing in the depths of his blue eyes. The man hated it.
"May His Great Name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed."
There should have been a chorus of voices filling the space at the end of the sentence, voices to fill the gaps when his own voice broke. He should have been surrounded by people ready and willing to help him through this time. People who carried the same grief, the same crushing ache, that someone so dear was gone. People who had known and loved the lost man as much as he did.
"V'yam'likh mal'khutei b'chayeikhon uv'yomeikhon uv'chayei d'khol beit yis'ra'eil ba'agala uviz'man kariv."
"May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days, and in the lifetimes of the entire family of Israel, swiftly and soon."
He didn't have to think about the words, they flowed too easily from his lips. He wanted to cry, desperately needed the release the tears would offer. But his eyes were dry.
He had lost too many people during his life – even before the War. But during it, it seemed he had said the prayer every night. Used it to ground himself in the here-and-then instead of the list of names belonging to the men he had failed.
"Y'hei sh'mei raba m'varakh l'alam ul'al'mei al'maya."
"May His Great Name be blessed forever and ever."
It had been hard to then. His faith and trust was lost a bit more with each life lost, as the horrors he fought against seemed to grow bigger, the powers that backed them stronger. It was still hard to think about praising and blessing the One who had taken so much from him.
He knew he was bordering on blasphemy. But he could not understand why everyone he loved was dead, and he still alive. He did not understand why he had not died when he drove the plane into the ice. He could not understand his purpose in this world.
He had gone through this same thing when his mother had died. Had felt the same bone-deep ache he was experiencing now. But then, he had had Bucky to draw him out – to pull him back from the abyss he had been staring into.
"Yit'barakh v'yish'tabach v'yit'pa'ar v'yit'romam v'yit'nasei v'yit'hadar v'yit'aleh v'yit'halal sh'mei d'kud'sha B'rikh hu."
"Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, might, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One. Blessed is He."
Now, though, there was no one. Just him. And he didn't know if he could do it. Sure, he put on an act for the country, held it together for the team. He had to. He was Captain America, leader of the Avengers. He could not break. Yet, as each day passed, a new piece inside of him – deep inside, where no one could see – did.
"Adonai, Elohay, y'shooatee. Yom tza'ak'tee va'lay'la neg'decha. Tavo l'fanecha t'feelatee hatay az'n'cha l'reenatee."
"O Lord God of my salvation, what time I cry in the night before you. Let my prayer come before you, incline Your ear unto my cry."
He didn't realize he had switched prayers until a few words in. The words of the Psalm were fitting. He couldn't remember why he had memorized it or even when. He was glad he had though.
"Cap?"
"Shatanee b'vor tach'teeyot, b'machashakeem beem'tzolot. Alay samcha chamatecha v'chol-meesh'barecha eeneeta. Selah. Heer'chak'ta m'yooda'eye meemenee shatanee toy ay'vot lamo kaloo v'lo aytzay."
"Thou hast laid me in the nethermost pit, in dark places, in the deeps. Your wrath lies hard on me, and all Your waves You press down. Selah You have put my acquaintance far from me; You have made me an abomination unto them; I am shut up, and I cannot come forth."
Tears finally came, and he slipped from the chair onto his knees. "K'rateecha Adonai b'chol-yom. Sheevach'tee aylecha chapa."
"I have called upon You, O Lord, every day. I have spread forth my hands unto You."
"Steve?"
"Hay'soopar bakever chas'decha emoonatcha baavadon?"
"Shall Thy mercy be declared in the grave? Or Thy faithfulness in destruction?"
His soul cried out for an answer. If peace and mercy could only be found in death, why had it been kept from him? What had he done to deserve to be cut off like this? What sin was he still atoning for which required his continued existence, this continuous struggle and fight against the evils of the world.
"Lamah azovata otee?"
"Why have You left me?"