Notes: Bonjour, Hola, Buenos Dias, HELLO guys! I'm honestly so excited to be doing this and slightly nervous because wow, this is insane. Over the last few years, I've fallen in love with the Marvel universe and all the wonderful characters that come with it. 'Captain America' was the film that started it all for me, and Bucky Barnes quickly became my favourite character. This fic is something that I've been working on for a while and it's a little different from the norm, but I'm hoping that it might strike a chord with a few of you wonderful people. At the end of the day, we've all been brought together because of our mutual love for these characters, and I really hope that I can do them justice. So I hope you like what you read, and pleaseeee tell me what you think because I'm a total rookie at this and need all the guidance I can get :') All the love in the world to you,
Missy x
Edited Chapter
Chapter 1
There are a few types of loud noises. There's the sort of racket that's so blaringly obvious that it somehow blends into the background of a setting, and having lived in Washington DC for 7 months, Mia was used to that particular one. Then there's the sort of sound that catches you completely off-guard. You'll be enjoying a perfectly quiet Friday evening in front of the television, and all of a sudden, your cat'll decide that it's the perfect time to defile your apartment by knocking over a ceramic bowl from the countertop. Or, you'll be dusting your vanity table and accidentally knock over a bottle of perfume onto the glass surface, temporarily deafening all sets of ears surrounding it.
Then there's the type of loud noise Mia just heard; the sound of aged wood snapping beneath her ear as she lay in bed with her eyes glued to her phone. She realised all too late that this particular disturbance was in fact an occurrence that she had been praying would delay itself for at least another two paycheques; her bed frame had finally broken.
An impressive thirty minutes later, Mia was still standing in front of her bed, balancing a double choc chip cookie in one hand and an unhealthily overused plastic water bottle in the other, all while staring solemnly at the wrecked 13-year-old bed frame which lay waste in front of her.
I hope you're proud of yourself. No really, I'm sure that the 4 kilos worth of Ferrero Rochers you ate last week has nothing to do with your bed frame finally giving up on life. Well done, Mia.
When she finally realised that simply staring at the bed like a first-class idiot would do nothing to actually fix the problem, Mia flitted her eyes to the clock which lay next to the wreckage.
8:37 am; fan-fucking-tastic.
Only three weeks into her new job and Mia had already managed to be late to work four times; surely a personal best for the residents of Bethesda. Mentally berating herself for the lack of brain cells her body had designated to time management, Mia rushed into the spare room to turn on the iron, shoved her laptop into her bag and tossed her apartment keys into her pocket, lest she forget that they are a vital part in actually getting in to her apartment.
In the midst of ironing her work shirt, Mia's mind couldn't help but relax at the thought of not having to worry about setting aside an outfit to wear for her day at college. Being a transfer student from Australia, uniforms were something Mia understood, in fact, they had become a thing she valued. Having spent her entire schooling life in the same navy blue blouse and knee length plaid skirt, the concept of having to wear a different set of clothes every day, simply to go to an institute where people would criticise you regardless, was just outrageous.
Routine, consistency, normality; they were all words that sat well with Mia, and after the sort of life she'd had before Australia, well…frankly, she was harrowingly fearful of things reverting back to the chaos she had once been accustomed to.
With her shirt on and crisply ironed, Mia took one last look at herself in the full-length mirror before leaving the room. Black T-shirt with Vito's Coffeehouse's emblem christened on the left breast pocket, matched with some black fitted jeans tucked into a pair of her well-loved Chuck Taylors; she was ready to take on the day.
When she went to put a strand of long, black hair behind her ear, Mia fell still for a moment before noticing something she hadn't considered in a long, long time.
You look exactly like mama today, she thought to herself. Everyone had told her that she bore a striking resemblance to her father for as long as she could remember. But in that moment, with her whiskey eyes reflecting the morning sun as it poured into her room and her skin radiating that gorgeous Syrian tan she had grown to accept, Mia felt like she could almost see her mother looking back at her in the smudged glass. Almost.
It was official; the entire population of Washington D.C. was conspiring against Mia to ensure she arrived to work even later than she had anticipated by causing three separate accidents on the freeway. Trying to recall every sin she'd ever committed to understand just why this was happening to her, Mia set her forehead on the steering wheel of her '67 Camaro.
Her car, like many of the other things in her life, was a decision Mia had made on the whim of her ever-helpful impulse to live out Shia LaBeouf's life in Transformers. Now, while her car was the same model and did have two black stripes down its blue bonnet, she obviously didn't have the same well-fortuned fate that awaited Sam Witwicky when he bought his Camaro. In fact, considering that her car was about as reliable as a donkey pulling a fruit-cart in the middle of a blizzard, it turned out that Mia had wasted a good $9,000 in fulfilling her childhood dream when she could well have been driving a dependable and fuel-efficient Mazda.
Finally at work and officially 19 minutes late, Mia burst through the door and punched in her employee card at a blinding speed, before storing her bag and jacket away into her locker. In the midst of her haste, she managed to miss a short, plump Italian woman entering the room she had so gracefully barricaded into only moments earlier.
"You know, we hired you because you have a pretty name and a beautiful smile, Miriya. But darling, if you plan on sticking around, then it helps to be on time every once in a while."
Ah, Nora. Not only was she an absolute sweetheart, but she was the type of person who wouldn't scold you if you did something wrong, she'd just be disappointed. And in all honesty, disappointment was the worst way to repay Nora for all that she'd done.
"Nora, I know I said this the last two times but I am so, so, so sorry and I swear it won't happen again. I was just about to get up for work when my bed frame broke and I knew this day was coming but I delayed getting a new frame anyway and now there is a literal pile of wood in the middle of my room and I completely lost track of time—"
"Mia, Mia, darling take a breath. Always so talk-y." Nora's Sicilian accent was almost as warm as her brown eyes and her olive skin. She was the kind of woman that every girl wanted to have as a grandmother, the type to fuss over you and to make sure you were properly fed and looked after. To anyone from the outside world, Mia could have been Nora's granddaughter who worked at the family's successful restaurant in the middle of Anastasia Avenue. But to Mia, Nora was a woman she had known for 5 months prior to being offered a job at Vito's as a regular customer. She would come in for their state-famous Tiramisu every Friday after college and would waste away what seemed like hours talking to the elderly Italian woman and her husband, Piero.
After being thrown into a new environment from the comfort she'd loved in Australia, Mia had found somewhat of a sanctuary in the home-grown coffeehouse and eventually asked if they had any job openings that she could apply for. Being that they were a popular business in the area, Piero wasn't about to decline the offer for extra help and decided to delegate all tasks which required 0.9% of skill to Mia, such as taking orders, warming up bread rolls and clearing tables. Now having spent three weeks behind the counter and growing fairly used to the roles she was responsible for, Mia knew she just had to make more of an effort to get to work on time. She couldn't take advantage of Nora and Piero's kind nature any more than she already had.
"I know you're not angry, but sometimes I wish you'd just…I don't know…swear at me in Italian or throw a bread roll at me. Just something so that at least you weren't letting the disappointment build up inside of you."
Nora's lips turned downwards in an uncharacteristic frown. "Ay Mia, you young kids are all the same. First, you hammer your brains with all these fancy degrees and useless studies, and then, you come here to work hard for money so you can pay for that same education. Mio caro, what is the point of being a beautiful young woman in this country if you don't even have enough time to have dinner with a nice boy, eh? The things I want for Adela and Luca, I want for you as well Mia. Why can't you see that?"
"Ugh, Nora, please not that conversation again. If a boy who has half the mental capacity of an apricot shows up at my doorstep one of these days, I'll take him to have the best damn dinner of his life and you'll be the first to know about it, I promise."
Animatedly waving her hands near her head and mumbling something about 'strange Australians' and 'old with 20 cats' in Italian, Nora left Mia standing in the locker room with her apron in one hand and her phone in the other.
9:28 am. Waitressing time.
After an expectedly hectic midday shift at Vito's, Mia bid goodbye to Nora and her granddaughter Adela – or Ella, as everyone called her – and ventured off to one place that she knew she was going to have trouble enjoying; Georgetown University.
Having transferred from Australia to complete her final year of psychology in the States, Mia was initially determined that she'd ace her subjects throughout both semesters by keeping her focus wholly on studies and nothing else. However, the problem with Mia was that her mind had inadvertently convinced her that there was, in fact, no better time to catch up on 11 different series that she had neglected watching in Australia due to a lack of Netflix.
You are one clever cookie, Miriya.
And so, with the unfortunate realisation that she had once again failed to do her weekly readings and questions, Mia walked into her Trauma 104 class without her usual relaxed persona, as the gripping fear that Professor Walker would call her out on her negligence in front the entire class grew greater and greater.
As she sat down in her usual spot towards the back of the class, she looked around in hopes of finding her partner in crime lurking about somewhere. After unsuccessfully spotting her friend among all the faces, Mia whipped out her phone and proceeded to write out her customary heart-warming message to said deserter.
Mia: Mel, I swear to God if you don't show up to class, I'LL EGG YOUR ENTIRE HOUSE BEFORE TOMORROW'S SUNRISE. Don't doubt me.
Upon waiting for a reply to her rather articulate threat, Mia unzipped her laptop from its case and tried to skim through the notes on the day's lesson.
"Trauma…experienced by a range of people…particularly soldiers and war combatants…survivors of war…", read the text.
Mia stopped her haphazard reading before she could go any further after she noticed the picture attached beneath the article. Breath hitched and eyes slightly shiny, she tried to tear her vision away from the photo she beheld, but she knew full well that she'd do no such thing.
A picture of a bloodied man holding a girl who couldn't have been older than 10 in his arms was what had Mia entranced. She lowered her eyes to the caption beneath it which read, "Syrian man holding his injured daughter after bomb dropped in Aleppo". Quickly wiping at her eyes to avoid any unwanted questions from the busy bodies that surrounded her, Mia shut her laptop harder than she needed to and willed her memories to stay in the part of her mind she rarely unlocked. Today was not the day she needed to relive them. Just, not today.
Thankfully, her phone's ring distracted her from her own thoughts, and the message from her best friend was enough to lift her mood.
Mel: Relax loser, I'll be 15 minutes late, had to pick up some spare parts at the mechanics. Save me a spot and DON'T YOU DARE start clapping when I walk into class again. I will genuinely assassinate you.
Now laughing to herself like an A-grade sociopath, Mia knew exactly what she had to do to bring about the level of embarrassment that only a best friend could induce upon a person.
Mia: Why don't you want me to clap? Last time you came in late and I clapped, Richie was the first to laugh and join in. He couldn't take his eyes off of you and I bet he'd do it againnnnnnnn hehehehhehehe.
Mel: I will kill you. There's no two ways about it. Your soul will return to Heaven.
Mia: MAYBE I should save a seat for you next to where he's sitting, OH MY GOD I'm doing that now okay BYE MELLLLLLL!
Mel: MIA DON'T!
Mel: MIA ANSWER THE PHONE
Mel: MIA!
Mel: I hate you.
After a class filled with embarrassing late-entrances and semi-deadly glares from Mel, Mia headed off with her friend towards their parked cars. It was nearing sunset, and DC never disappointed in showcasing her magnificence at dusk. The sky bled with shades of pink and orange to contrast the bright blue that'd accompanied the clouds only hours earlier. The two girls walked in a comfortable silence to the carpark and were about to make dinner plans when Mia's phone started ringing from her bag. Figuring it was either her aunt or her brother, she took her time in answering the call and didn't register the fact that it was coming from her workplace until she heard a frantic Ella on the other side of the line.
"Mia! Mia please—Mia please get back to the store, nonna's had a heart attack—I don't know what she was doing but we heard a crash in the storage closet and she was on the floor—But can you please come back, me and nonno are going with her in the ambulance—Just please, Mia we—"
"Ella, Ella, calm down. I'll be there in 15 minutes, just lock up and I'll use my keys to get in. Call me when you get there." Mia hung up the phone before Ella could spend any more time talking to her when she should've been on her way to the hospital.
"Mel, I'm so sorry, but I have to go back to Vito's. Nora's had an accident. I'll catch up with you tomorrow, yeah?"
"Don't worry about it, but is anyone else gonna be at the store? I can come with you if you want."
"Well, Ella and Piero are going to the hospital, and I doubt that Tracey's gonna be working tonight. But it's okay, I'll be fine. They close in a few hours and it should be pretty quiet on a Monday night."
"Alright, but…just be safe, Mia."
That was Mel; a year younger than Mia but the perpetual big sister in their relationship. Mia had come to the States without knowing a single person, and had quite frankly disregarded the idea that she would grow close to many people during her stay. But halfway into her second week at Georgetown, her ever-trusty Camaro broke down in the college parking lot, and needless to say, Mia was completely lost as to what to do in a situation like that.
Thankfully for her, the Angels must've been forwarding her prayers to the Big Guy that day because she ran into Mel; 6'0 tall, dark brown hair and baby brown eyes with a cheeky grin permanently glued to her face. She was a 3rd year paramedic student and quite the handy mechanic thanks to a childhood spent mostly at her dad's repair shop. After she helped Mia get back on the road again, it was only a matter of time before the pair found themselves to be inseparable. And, as for Mia? Well, Mel was the closest thing to a sister she'd ever had.
Mia smiled softly before giving letting a small grin curl on her lips. "Always am, Mel."
Having quickly parked the car in her usual space behind the restaurant, Mia grabbed her keys and unlocked the front doors so she could once again allow customers to get their fix of Italian delicacies. The shop itself was of a humble size, but it boasted all the features one would hope to find at any Sicilian outlet. The entrance to the coffeehouse was lined with rich green vines that laced their way across the brick wall, serving as a backdrop for the sign which read 'Vito's Coffeehouse' in cursive. There were several wooden tables set outside to match the theme, all with vibrant red tablecloths and bright lanterns atop them that gave one the illusion of walking cobble-stoned streets in the Amalfi Coast. The imported Italian parasols had quaint fairy lights that hung off their edges and outdoor heaters which helped shield customers from the February chill.
As Mia straightened out all the chairs and collected leftover dishes from tables, she glanced at the grandfather clock situated near the counter. 6:32 pm. Still another 3 and a half hours before she could close up shop, but she knew that being there was her own little way of having Nora's back when she needed it. Mia began washing the dishes and suddenly became lost in thought as to the day's happenings, so much so that she didn't notice that someone had entered the store until the door bell shook with the opening of one flap.
Splashing herself with dirty dish water, Mia hurriedly tried to clean off the soap before addressing the customer. "Ugh, shit—Won't be a minute!"
"It's okay, take your time," came the reply from a deep voice just beyond the counter.
She could only see the outline of a fairly tall man from her vantage point at the kitchen basin, but she finally cleaned up enough to head out to the counter without repelling any potential customers with her highly attractive dishwashing scrubs.
"Sorry about that, what can I get–"
Mia knew she should've finished the sentence like a competent human being. She also knew that there was no reason to freak out and that she should behave like the mature, well-rounded 22-year-old that she was. However, it took a whole 10 seconds of awkward staring for Mia to realise that she wouldn't do any of those things; in fact, she knew from the moment she recognised him that she was about to spray projectile verbal vomit towards the person who had been America's national symbol for almost a century.
"I—You're Capt—I…"
Breathe.
"What are you?" She shook her head, "No, not what are you, I mean, why are you here?—Wow, you're really here, okay…How are you?"
You fucking imbecile.
Before Mia could further disgrace her family and friends by showcasing her eloquent English, the blonde haired and blue eyed specimen which stood in front of her nonchalantly waved his hand as though he'd induced this sort of reaction 3,000 times before, chuckling up at her from under the brim of his hat.
"I'm doin' good, thanks. And yourself?"
Oh sweet baby Jesus, I'm talking to Captain freaking America. Keep it cool, rookie.
Having resisted the urge to promptly fling herself off of the George Washington Bridge, Mia managed to string together a sentence before an awkward silence ensued.
"I'm fine, thanks. I'm sorry for, uh, freaking out. I've had the strangest day and I just…well, I wasn't expecting to meet Captain America working the night shift, so…"
Smiling softly, Captain Rogers looked down and seemed hardly surprised as he replied, "Yeah, well, you can't keep me away from Vito's Tiramisu for too long. I was expecting Nora or Piero, are they out back?"
Suddenly pulled from her reverie, Mia's face fell as she was reminded of her boss' current condition. "No, uh, actually Nora had a heart attack. I'm not even too sure what happened, but I got a call from Ella saying they found her on the floor out back. That's why I'm working tonight."
The reaction on Captain Rogers' face was immediate, as his eyebrows drew together in confusion and his mouth hung slightly open in shock. "God, where'd they take her?"
"Well, I'm guessing MedStar because it's just off of Irving, but I can't be too sure 'til I get a call from Ella."
Cue painfully long silence.
"But, I gotta be honest, Nora's one of the toughest women around. If the Angel of Death even tried to get close to her, she'd probably bat it away with her rolling pin and tell it to stop wasting her time 'cause she had customers to feed." Mia's features upturned at the thought of that, and she even got a chuckle out of the Captain at her description of her little Italian employer.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been coming here for a few months now and those two are a big part of the reason why I keep comin' back. And, y'know, the food is pretty good incentive too," he said with a small grin.
She couldn't believe it. Here she was, working a shift she wasn't supposed to be working, in a country thousands of miles from home, sharing a laugh with a man who technically should've been about 6 feet under for the past 70 odd years. Go figure.
The sound of the wind slamming the door flap shut reminded Mia that she was, in fact, supposed to be serving her customer, as opposed to pondering the mysteries of his existence. She'd have plenty of time to do that when she got home.
"Oh God, you've been waiting to order. Okay, uh, what can I get for you, Captain?"
He waved a hand. "Please, call me Steve. And I'll grab what's left of the Tiramisu tray with a few bags of the bread sticks."
Looking over at the bread basket to check their current supplies, Mia asked, "Is 3 bags okay?"
"Yeah, that's perfect."
Mia flitted about the counter, getting the Tiramisu into a take-away box and lightly powdering the breadsticks before she rolled them into the brown paper wrapping. Figuring that she might as well take advantage of the fact that this was probably the last time she would be speaking to a living relic, Mia turned to Steve as she was absent-mindedly packing the breadsticks.
"So, Steve, would you mind if I asked you something? I know it might be a bit hard hitting for a Monday night, and feel free to completely ignore the question, but I've sorta always wanted to know."
Steve shook his head with a warm smile and replied, "Not at all. Although, it might be a bit more comforting if I knew the name of the person about to interrogate me."
Mia laughed softly. "Ah, well, that sounds like a fair trade. It's Miriya, but everyone calls me Mia because Americans will find a way to butcher any name that has more than 2 syllables."
It quickly dawned upon Mia that she was in fact speaking to the King of all Americans if there ever was one, and she had just singlehandedly managed to insult every person within a 2000 mile radius.
You're a champion, Mia.
"No, wait that's no offense to Americ—What I mean is that it's an unusual—That sounded so wrong, I swear I didn't—"
"Hey, hey, relax." He let out a laugh. "It's fine. And, believe it or not, I kinda feel the same way." Steve's upturned smile managed to make her feel a little less inclined to drive a poison-tipped spear through her abdomen to avoid the situation.
Only a little.
"But I am detecting an accent, and I'm pretty sure it's not British, so…what is it?" he asked curiously. "South African?"
"Oh no, not South African, but I see why you'd think that. It's Australian, actually." A look of realisation graced Steve's features. "If you're gonna try and attempt a 'g'day mate', then please just know that no man has ever succeeded in doing so with even a half-convincing Australian accent, so you've got a tough job ahead of you."
She heard a real laugh from the Captain for the first time that night, followed by, "Well, I think I haven't heard it nearly enough to be attempting it so, maybe some other time." The rustling of paper bags was the only sound that filled the air for a few moments before Steve piped up, "But what was it that you wanted to ask?"
"Oh, right! Yeah, well…okay." Deep breath. "Y'know, I've seen videos of you back when you served with the Howling Commandoes. I know you were in the middle of a war and times were tough, but somehow, folks back then always seemed so…happy. I guess…I guess I just wondered if this life—this new world is something you've grown to love just the same."
The look on Steve's face wasn't one that Mia had been expecting. She'd known upon asking the question that he might look wistful or maybe even nostalgic, but she was hit with something very different;
Pure, untainted regret.
With downcast eyes, Steve tried to start the sentence a few times before falling silent, and Mia was about to apologise profusely for bringing up such a topic when all the poor guy wanted was to grab his Italian desserts and leave.
Just as she opened her mouth, so did he, replying in a tone just above a whisper, "It's not so much the place, y'know. It's…There's just so much you leave behind. It took me a while but I've gotten used to the technology and people's ways of life now. But I guess there's just something different about being surrounded by people you grew up with". His gaze reverted back to Mia as he spoke through a smile etched with melancholy. "It's just not the same."
Knowing too well of the pain that came with yearning one's company and failing to find it, Mia felt as though the answer she received should have been expected, but upon hearing it, the magnitude of his situation really hit home. Here was a man out of time, forced to call this foreign land "home", with all the troubles that came with today's times and none of the support he had from his old life, his real life. It was hardly an easy feat.
"That, uh…Yeah, that makes a lot of sense." Now finding the string of her apron to be more worthy of her direct gaze than the Captain, Mia stayed quiet for a few moments before hoping to bring back the air of comfort they'd had before her mind willed her mouth to speak.
"And I'm insanely sorry for depressing the daylights out of you, it was seriously the wrong time to ask." She cracked a smile, "But you can rejoice, because here's your Tiramisu and breadsticks all ready to go, and I packed some extra cream in there for y'all." Mia handed over the brown paper bag to the Captain and was about to wish him a goodnight before he interjected.
"Nah, it's not a problem. But, uh, Mia? I think you might be forgetting something?"
Did you forget to pack the napkins again? C'mon Mia, that's the second time today.
"Oh God, I forgot the napkins, dang it! Just gimme a second, I'll go grab some."
Before Mia could start tearing about the kitchen in search for them, Steve quietly took out his wallet from his back pocket, reminding Mia that it is a sacred, ancient transaction to exchange food for money, and that she should probably adhere to the laws of said tradition.
"Ah, right. I was just…waiting to see if you'd…remember to pay?" Smooth, Mia. "Okay, I feel like my attention span is deteriorating by the hour, so I'm gonna blame it on that. But all that aside, that comes to a grand total of $33.70, Captain Rogers."
Fishing out a $50 note, Steve handed it over to the storekeeper who had shown many signs of the onset of dementia (or just plain stupidity), and Mia couldn't help but laugh when she looked upon the bill.
"I'll be honest, Steve. I really would've thought they'd put your face on one of these babies by now. I mean, don't get me wrong, Ulysses was a good lookin' fella, but I'm sure at least 80% of the nation's population would much rather see 'Captain Steve Rogers: The Symbol of America' plastered on their $50 bill."
"I think I already see my face in some pretty strange places as it is, I don't know how I'd feel about seeing it stamped on a bank note." He smiled, "Better to save that for dead presidents and old buildings, I guess."
Mia handed the change and the receipt back to Steve, before she added, "Wow, this has been unreal. Honestly, I have a feeling this is what an out-of-body experience feels like. But it really was a treat meeting you, Cap."
Steve snickered softly and waved off Mia's clear awe at the situation. "The pleasure's mine, and I might see you around here some time. Oh, and would ya' tell Nora that I stopped by and that she better be back on her feet by the next time I'm 'round to see her."
How could Nora not have told me that Steve-freaking-Rogers was a regular at the store. This is why people have trust issues, honestly.
"Oh, I'll make sure of it. Have a good night, Steve."
"Good night, Mia."
With that, Mia found herself waving off a national treasure at the mid-way point of her unexpected shift. Feeling strangely exhausted after her chance encounter with the Captain, Mia made the mistake of fantasising about going to sleep the second she step foot into her bedroom for the remainder of her shift. It was only then that she was reminded of the catastrophic state she had left her room in after her goddamn bed broke, which promptly lead her to belting out a string of cusses that came a little too naturally to Australian folk.
"And then he got this look on his face that made me want to pour hot coffee on myself for asking such a stupid question. Honestly, it wouldn't have killed me to have just kept my mouth shut or to ask him about…I don't know…rising interest rates or something," said Mia as she looked around for the other black sock that always managed to run away from its soul-pair.
"If you talked to Captain America about rising interest rates, I would've personally gathered every last one of my Irish cousins and pelted your house with potatoes. How dare you even suggest that?"
"To be honest Mel, I think I'd be more scared of the cousins on your Turkish side. Irishmen are just too cute, they've got that whole accent and red hair goin' on. Lord have mercy."
After 10 minutes of wreaking havoc in her apartment, Mia finally found the M.I.A. sock and quickly slipped it on before Mel hesitantly changed the topic into one Mia hoped she could've avoided.
"So, have you given any more thought to going to that workshop with the guy coming in from the V.A.? I know militant trauma isn't the area you're interested in, but I bet he could give you some good advice about how to go about your program. He's probably got a lot of experience, y'know."
Taking the phone away from her ear for a moment to compose her thoughts, Mia stared absently at the ground for what seemed like forever.
It's been 12 years, Mia. They're not all the same.
It took Mel half-screaming her name from the other side of the phone for Mia to bring it back to her ear.
"It's…It's not that I don't want to. You know that better than anyone. I just…" she cleared her throat. "I look at one soldier and, somehow…to me, they're all the same. I know they shouldn't be, but…I can't control how I feel when I'm around them."
The reluctance in Mel's voice had dissipated as she spoke her next words. "Mia, but you can. These people aren't Syrian Armed Forces and this isn't Aleppo. You've been fighting with this for more than a decade, love. Now, I don't expect you to be all chummy with 'em, but please Mia, believe me when I say that most of them mean well."
Tears threatened to escape Mia's eyes, forcing her to shut them even tighter, as if she could somehow will them away. But there was no stopping the inevitable. Sitting on the edge of her still-broken bed and now tasting salt on her tongue, Mia licked her lips before replying in a whisper, "I see them, Mel. I look at a soldier's uniform, any soldier's, and all I see are my parents' faces. Every damn time." Exhaling a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Mia continued, "I wanna let go of that, I do—I just wouldn't know where to start."
"Start here. Start by doing this. Go to the workshop and learn how to help people that have been in warzones just the same as you. It might've been different countries and different circumstances, but the horrors they've seen…I'm willing to bet they're not so different from yours."
I really, really hate it when she makes sense. "Have I ever told you that I really, really hate it when you make sense?"
The responding laugh she heard from Mel reset the tone of the conversation almost instantly. Feeling a little lighter, Mia put the phone back into the nook of her neck and shoulder before getting up to grab her gym bag from the spare room. Re-checking that she packed her sparring tape and cotton ankle brace, Mia wrangled her hip-length hair into a high pony atop her head before grabbing the keys off the counter and shutting off the lights.
"Oh! By the way, did you hear anything else about Nora? Is she gonna be okay?"
Feeling quite terrible that she'd excitedly called to tell Mel about her meeting with Captain America and not informed her of her boss' health, Mia quickly reassured her as she made her way to the elevator. "Oh God, yeah. I got a call from Ella around 11 last night. She said the doctors were releasing her today and that she should take it easy for a few weeks. But aside from that, they said not to worry because it was only a mild heart attack."
Mel exhaled loudly before saying, "Thank the Lord, 'cause I tell ya' what, no woman that gives away as much free food to me as she does deserves hardship like that."
"Yeah, well, you're not wrong there. Alright hun, I'm heading to the dojo now, but I'll message you after I'm done, yeah?"
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead. And don't let that Freddie guy get all handsie on you again. If he tries anything, just go Black Widow on his ass," she said seriously.
Mia laughed and shook her head. "Will do, ma'am. Alright, I'll talk to you soon, hun."
"Later, Alfiyan."
"Now don't hold back on me, kid. This is the last set, you ready?"
"Uus, sensai."
"Good girl. Alright, I want a double tap from the left, a clean elbow to the chin and I want you to finish with a solid kao loy (flying knee) to the solar plexus. You've got one try, Mia. I want it perfect."
"Uus, sensai."
If there was one place where Mia felt most calm, it was in the chaos of a kickboxing gym. Since she was 4, martial arts had engrained itself into her spirit and made up for most of the courage that Mia had today. While it took her a few years to adjust to her life in Australia with her aunt and uncle, martial arts remained the one comfort Mia indulged in amidst the unknowns she faced.
And so, here she was, her face red and her hair swept back as she was about to attempt the final combination for the day. Tightening her hand wrapping and looking at her sensai for one final confirmation, Mia centred her thoughts before setting her sights on the target. Her sparring partner, Jordie, re-tightened his head-gear in preparation for the blows he was about to absorb, and with a slight nod of the head, Mia pounced.
Adjusting her feet to accommodate the orthodox stance she was accustomed to fighting with, Mia brought her hands up and timed her breathing according to the attacks.
Breathe, one. Mia struck a double tap to his cheekbone.
Breathe, one, two. Redistributing her weight to rely mostly on her leading foot, Mia brought her right elbow above her ear and clocked down cleanly on the base of his chin-guard.
Breathe, one, two, three. To finish the combination, Mia placed pressure on him to retreat by taking two steps forward and bracing her right knee for impact, before launching her back foot upwards, propelling her strike his solar plexus. As Jordie stumbled back a few steps, Mia's bare feet remained firm on the mats in fighting stance, awaiting to be dismissed by her sensai.
Feather soft footsteps approached Mia as her breathing calmed, and she was finally met with the sight of a smiling sensai Eddie. "Someone etch this date in stone because it might be the first time Mia didn't forget to readjust her weight after elbowing Jordie in the chin," exclaimed Eddie to no one in particular as he stood in front of his student.
Now bouncing giddily on the balls of her feet, Mia looked up and remarked, "Well, as enjoyable as it is to disappoint your sensai on a weekly basis, it kinda gets boring after a little while." She looked to her fallen sparring partner. "You hurt there, Jord?"
The 6'2, 220 pounds worth of Premium African American Beef known as Jordan Coster was just about one of the kindest people Mia had ever known. He'd been training at Sal's gym for 6 years and was well on his way to becoming one of the best Muay Thai kickboxers in the country.
"Nah, girl. Your kangaroo-ridin', koala-huggin' ass can't get the best of me. I just wanted to boost your self confidence, that's all," said Jordie with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. "I'm a gentleman like that."
Mia laughed and was about to reply when she felt her phone buzz in her hand. "Oh, man. It's my brother, I gotta take this. But I'll catch ya' next Tuesday though!"
"Sounds good. Take care of yourself now, you hear?"
Laughing inwardly at how people kept telling her that, she replied with, "Always do, Jord."
Grabbing her bag and all but running out of the gym towards her car, Mia clicked the 'Answer' button on her phone quicker than ever.
"Welcome to Domino's Pizza, what would you like today?" said Mia with the same stupid smile on her face that she always got when she answered a call like that.
"God, Mia you always say that and you always make me regret calling before I've even had a conversation with you," said a tired sounding voice from the other end.
"C'mon Zeyn, stop being a little girl. What time is it over there? And why do you sound like you haven't slept since the turn of the century?"
"Because my little sister decided to move to a city where the time zone is 14 hours behind and I can't speak to her unless its 2 am over here. Seriously, just come back so I can get some decent sleep again, zalami."
Mia smiled a little at her brother's suffering before adding, "Y'know, America could use some Muay Thai gyms as well. There's nothing stoppin' you from coming here, bud." Suddenly recalling the reason for her recent elation, Mia semi-shouted, "BUT FORGET ALL OF THAT, I have to tell you something!"
Sighing at his sister's criminal levels of excitement when it was literally 2 in the morning where he lived, Zeyn braced himself for the barrage of words he was about to be pelted with. "What is it, M?"
"I met Captain America! Zeyn, I swear I almost died and it was so strange because it happened so fast, well, not really because we talked for like 5 minutes, but he's even taller than he looks on TV and he asked abou—"
"You WHAT?"
Letting out a laugh as she opened her car door, Mia knew that her brother's reaction would far supersede her own. Zeyn was the sort of guy who had zero shame in expressing his appreciation for beauty, both female and especially male. He'd always been the sort of big brother who made sure Mia never resented the fact that she didn't have a sister too much. In between teaching her to play most sports and how to make a shank using a toothbrush and a blunt nail, Zeyn made sure to ask her about her crushes and whether the kids at school were giving her a rough time. Even after 12 years of living without parents, Zeyn tried to make sure their presence was never missed too much.
"You're telling me that you met Captain America and you waited 24 hours to tell me about it? Have you no shame?"
Mia giggled at the sense of betrayal evident in her brother's voice. "I know, I'm sorry. But it was honestly so fun and it was even better because it was the last thing I ever expected to happen. I didn't even know he lived in DC! I always figured he lived at the Avengers Tower."
"Mia, can you please stop worrying about the guy's real estate history and tell me what he said?! Where did you even meet him?"
Sucking in a deep breath before she launched into a recap of the story, Mia drove back to her apartment while falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation she always had with her brother. It made her feel so happy and so terribly lonely all at once, but if she just closed her eyes and only pay mind to their voices, she could almost pretend that he was right there with her.
Almost.
It turns out that it takes a lot more than your run-of-the-mill heart attack to keep Nora Vitale from providing sustenance to the hungry population of DC. Nevertheless, Mia found herself taking on 4 more shifts throughout the week to lessen Nora's workload before she tired herself into another coronary episode. Completely disregarding the doctor's orders to rest for two weeks, Nora showed up at the restaurant only 3 days after her attack, and something told Mia that she would've come earlier had a family member not held her in a metaphorical chokehold to keep her away.
It was an exceptionally quiet Friday afternoon at Vito's, and after all the dishes had been washed and the tables had been wiped, Mia found herself eyeing the Tiramisu that the First Avenger had come in for only a week earlier. She looked at the thick layers of cream and the chocolate bark mixed with cocoa powder that blanketed the top layer. Just have one slice, you've had a long week. But she really needed to shed the weight she'd gained during this year's hibernation.
But it's just one piece. Besides, it's not like anyone's gonna be looking under your shirt anytime in the near future. Live your life, Mia.
With the bittersweet reminder that she was indeed single and had no sexy-time to be restraining herself for, Mia didn't need any more persuasion to get out a plate and prepare her body for the spiritual experience she was about to partake in. Just as she went to cut a slice from the tray, she heard her boss call from the storage room, "Miriya, Miriya! Your phone is ringing, Miriya!"
"Coming, coming, coming Nora," she said before she looked at the cake in question and whispered, "I'll come back for you, baby." Running to the back of the café, Mia was surprised to see the caller ID as Arya, a friend of hers from uni.
"Hello?"
"Mia! Where are you? The workshop's gonna start in 10 minutes and the guy that's running it's already started setting up. You didn't forget, did you?"
Shit, shit, shit. "No, of course I didn't forget". I'd totally forgotten. "I was just…getting some papers that I left at work yesterday". I was making sweet, sensual eye-love to an Italian dessert. "I'll be there in 15 minutes!" You disrupted a holy ritual, how can I ever trust you after this?
Forsaking the cake for now, Mia rushed into where Nora was folding the linen napkins before catching her breath and asking, "Uh, Nora? I know it's completely last minute and that Luca won't be in for another hour, but I have a workshop to go to that I totally forgot about and it's actually really important. So, do you think it'd be okay if I got off a little early today?"
"Sì, Sì, of course darling. Don't just stand there and look at me like a fool, quick, quick, go!" said Nora with the classic Italian wave of her hands. Smiling and all but sprinting out of the room, Mia yelled out a loud 'thank you' before grabbing her bag from her locker and heading to her car.
About 20 minutes of DC's traffic later, Mia finally entered the east carpark of her uni, only to find it completely full and without a single empty space in sight. Why don't any of you heathens use public transport? Decidedly more annoyed than she was before, Mia was forced to park the car behind W Block, near the obscure and slightly Texas Chainsaw-looking gardener's shack. Not having much time to spend crying over her parking dilemma, Mia slung her leather one-strapped bag over her shoulder, locked her car and ran towards L Block.
As soon as she opened the door to the building, Mia made her way towards the Interactive Rooms that were built for the purpose of workshops like these. Upon finding L107, she took a deep breath and willed herself to not cower in shame at the fact that she was 20 minutes late to a seminar that she hadn't really wanted to be involved with in the first place. Lightly knocking before opening the door, Mia was met with about 20 heads turning her way, including the one which belonged to the guy running the damn thing.
Well done, Mia.
"Come on in, Miss. I'm afraid to tell you that you just missed out on all the choc-frosted donuts I bought in for y'all, but you'll have to blame your peers for that. It was a sort of an 'every man for himself" situation, y'know?" joked the man standing in front of the lectern at the very front of the class. He wore the sort of smile that made you wanna divulge all your family's secrets to him, and for some reason, Mia's comfort levels increased almost instantly after seeing him.
"No, that's fine. I, uh… I actually deserve to go donut-less for being so late. Sorry about that."
Waving his hand dismissively, the man said, "Nah, don't sweat it. Take a seat, we just started. I'm Sam Wilson, by the way," said the man as he redirected his attention to the remainder of the class.
Spotting Arya waving to her from the middle row, Mia made her way over and sat down. Arya's widened blue eyes gave away just how excited she was about the whole situation, and after impatiently waiting for Mia to get settled, she quickly leaned closer and whispered, "Mia, he's so cute, I'm not sure whether to ask him out for drinks or have a seizure."
Looking back at the seizure-inducer in question, Mia giggled softly at her friend's antics before replying in a hushed tone, "Honey, he deals with trauma, not CPR. You're gonna have to come up with a better way to seduce him."
The two girls shared a laugh before properly settling into the seminar. And surprisingly, it wasn't long before Mia couldn't remember why she had been so hesitant to come to the workshop in the first place. That was, until Sam actually started speaking about their chosen topic.
"Now, I know that some of y'all are here because this workshop will get you extra credit, and that's alright. Believe me when I say that I did some crazy stuff for a few extra marks back in college." That got him a few laughs before the class quietened down again.
"But regardless of the reason you chose to come here today, I want you all to leave with one thing. By the end of the session, I'll have shown you some different cases, some stories that'll make you re-evaluate a lot of what you thought was going on in the world. You might hear a few of them and think, 'Wow, there is absolutely no way that this guy can come back from the place his mind is at right now'. You might be convinced that some of these soldiers can never conform back into society again, that there's no hope. But if there's one thing I hope you keep with you from what you hear today, it's that no one is too far gone to benefit from your help." His eyes shone earnestly as he said, "No one is beyond saving."
If there was one thing Mia wasn't expecting, it was that she'd thoroughly enjoy the workshop she'd been dreading for so long. Sam had turned out to be everything she'd hoped for but never gotten in a workshop mentor. He was interactive and patient, and devilishly funny which made for a much lighter environment than she'd imagined.
It turned out that Sam was ex-military himself, and true to his word, he shared some bone-chilling stories about soldiers and medics who'd come home from tours, but had somehow left their peace in the warzone. And as hard as she tried, there were times during the slideshow that Mia felt stiflingly overwhelmed upon seeing photos of dozens of army tanks and armed militia.
They're not them. This isn't Aleppo. This isn't home; those words churned in her mind as she willed herself to breathe a little easier. Sam went on to talk about army doctors who had been assigned to village medical centres and town hospitals to treat locals with standard medicine that hadn't yet been made available to them.
"And when they come back home and see resources and supplies being taken for granted and being wasted…it crushes them. The trauma isn't just the result of seeing death on a battlefield. It's from seeing life in a country so foreign from what you've known, and seeing people just like you and I suffering at the hands of those in power. Coming back, adjusting to a life after living through that…'traumatic' doesn't even cut it."
After the class had wrapped up and it was nearing 7:00, most of the students filtered out of the room as quickly as they could to grab some much needed food after a 4 hour session. Waving goodbye to Arya, Mia felt the inexplicable need to wait back and ask some of the questions she'd been itching to know the answers to for a long time. With so many of her own endeavours awaiting her in the future, she couldn't think of a more perfect opportunity to seek some guidance.
"Uh, Sam?"
Sam looked up from his laptop bag after disconnecting it from the projector. "Well if it isn't Ms. Donut-less. How'd you like the workshop? Didn't make you regret spending your Friday stuck in a room for 4 hours, did I?"
Laughing softly at the ease with which he spoke, Mia shook her head and slung her flannie over a shoulder before replying, "Nah, I would've wasted it eating ice cream and watching Full House the entire day anyways."
"Girl, you make it sound like that's a bad thing. Ain't nobody gonna say no to a little bit of John Stamos in their life." Mia raised a brow and quirked her lips, to which Sam quickly reaffirmed, "Hey look, I'm straight, but I'm not blind. He's got a little somethin' somethin'."
Laughing immediately at how much that sounded like something her brother would say, Mia almost didn't realise that Sam was fully packed and ready to leave, and that it was her who was keeping him from doing so.
"By the way, I didn't catch your name."
"Miriya, but everyone calls me Mia."
"Miriya. Hmm, that's nice. Is that Arabic?"
"Yeah, yeah it is."
Looking down once and composing her question in her mind, Mia asked, "Sam, I just…I was just wondering if you could give me a few tips on starting a program similar to the one you have at the V.A., but for refugees. Y'see, I've had this idea for a while and I have it all worked out with regards to the content and governmental guidelines and all, but…I just need a bit of guidance with the actual…helping part of it."
Sam considered her words for a moment before looking at Mia and asking something she hadn't expected in the least.
"Was it Syria?"
Snapping her head up at the question, Mia needed no further clarification. "Yeah."
"How old were you?" he asked, leaning back on a table and clearly in no rush to leave.
Taking in a breath in preparation of what she knew was about to come, Mia steadied her voice before she spoke. "I was 8 when it started, my brother was 13. We lived just outside of Aleppo." She swallowed. "At the beginning, S.A.F. soldiers would just roll by in army trucks…I guess to make their presence known. We got used to seeing them and it was about a year before anything actually happened. But when the bombings started…well, they never really stopped."
Sam was gentle but determined in a skilled way that Mia figured only came with practice when he asked his next question. "Did you lose someone?"
And there it was. Slowly nodding her head and wishing her eyes would stop shining, Mia answered, "My parents. My uncle had moved to Australia a few years before and after things started getting real bad, we knew we couldn't stay much longer. So, he applied as a sponsor to have us brought back to Sydney with him. All the paperwork was done and we were…so excited."
Breathe.
"It was supposed to be safe. We were sleeping in the old City Hall when two soldiers found us. They saw our packed bags and started yelling at my dad, paranoid that he was fighting for the resistance. He…he tried to tell them that we meant no harm." She wet her lips. "They shot him 4 times before my mum stepped in front of the bullets." With an errant tear streaming slowly down her face, Mia continued, "They would've killed us too, but some of the other kids there came out running towards us." She smiled sadly and guessed, "They probably thought we'd be a waste of bullets."
Sam laid a supporting hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry."
She shook her head immediately. "Please, don't be. It's honestly why I don't like talking about it much. I was one of the lucky ones, y'know." She shrugged softly, "We got out of there at an age where we couldn't understand consequences. But, some of the people that are fleeing from there right now…they're gonna spend their entire life reliving that war. And…I just wanna help them through that."
Sam smiled what Mia felt was his trademark smile and said, "Well, if that's something that's gonna make you happy, then you've come to the right place, girl."
After exchanging details and getting advised by Sam for another 20 minutes, Mia said her goodbyes and left the building feeling a lot lighter. Sam told her about the practical side of conducting trauma programs and specific measures that needed to be taken. He also told her to contact him after she graduated in a few months to help out with recruitment and offices, which she was unnaturally giddy about. It had all seemed so unattainable a couple of hours ago, but after talking through it with someone who'd been doing it for so long, Mia felt as though something really, really special might come out of this.
Mia was so caught up in recalling the last few hours that she forgot to be upset about the fact that her car was parked amongst the garbage bins and lawn mowers behind W Block. It was only after she reached the dimly lit stairs near her car that Mia realised just how shifty the place was.
This place seemed a whole lot less horror-movieish when it was 3 pm.
Taking out the keys to her car and keeping the Kiridashi Neck Knife that her sensai gifted her at a handy distance, Mia started walking towards the car. Caught up in surveying her surroundings, Mia was about 20 metres away when she did a double take.
…Did my car just shake?
Blinking a few times to clear her vision, the second time she saw it wobble was unmistakable, and it took her all of 2 seconds to realise: there's someone in my car.
Instincts taking over, Mia slipped the knife into her hand and slowly walked towards the bins to get a better gauge of the situation. As she peered over the trash for a closer look, the poor lighting only allowed her to see the silhouette of a man with long hair hunched over in the driver's seat. Squinting her eyes, Mia tried to decipher exactly what he was doing until she heard the sad spark of her Camaro's engine; he was trying to hotwire it.
Wanting to laugh at how desperate this guy must have been to steal a car that barely worked when the keys were in the ignition, Mia figured that he wouldn't get much luck with what he was trying to do, and she wasn't wrong. Almost on cue, the driver's door was opened harshly by the figure and Mia did a triple-take. She would've blamed her poor vision on all the weed she'd been smoking but the inconvenient truth was that she'd never gotten high a day in her life.
…Well, fuck.
The man emerged from the car and into the faint light of the lamppost. Being that she was still a few metres away, Mia could only make out a few details about him. He was clad in black from top to bottom, donning black cargo pants with what seemed like a leather straightjacket that had been ripped of its sleeves. His shoes made a heavy thud as he walked from the side of the car towards the boot, and just when Mia decided that she'd wait for as long as she had to for him to leave, an unwelcome feline visitor made its presence known.
As the stray cat jumped from the outdoor windowsill of a classroom onto the garbage bin Mia was hiding behind, it managed to knock over the aluminium rubbish lid that sat idly on top of it.
What the hell is a cat doing on campus, anyway?
Ridding that thought as the magnitude of the situation quickly dawned on Mia, she was faced with a sight more menacing than any she'd seen before.
The curtain of dark hair that she'd caught a glimpse of before had managed to hide the mask that covered the bottom half of the thief's face. It was only after he turned to face Mia's direction that she saw the man's face under slightly harsher lighting. Frozen in her place, Mia debated whether to scream or run or play dead. Either way, it seemed that the man would make her decision for her.
He began, somewhat calmly, striding towards her with his hands free of any weapons, but something gave Mia the idea that he wouldn't exactly need them. In a last ditch attempt at self preservation, Mia tightened her grip on her blade and reasoned, "Listen man, that's my car but you can take it. I don't want any trouble. Here, I'll give you the keys."
When Mia's pleading fell on deaf ears, she tried to retreat by taking a few steps backwards, only to be met by a brick wall and the glaring light of a lamppost that was situated directly above her head. The man continued his languid pace as he approached her, and it was only when he got within a few steps that she noticed an unnatural gleam being reflected from his left arm.
"Holy fu—Look mister, I won't tell anyone about you or your…limbs—Just take the car and—"
Mia's words were cut short as a single hand was raised and clasped around her throat, thankfully from the right arm. Now pushed up against the brick wall, Mia tried grabbing at his wrist with the hand that wasn't holding the knife. Failing miserably before she'd even tried for long, Mia tried centering her breathing and reminded herself that this was exactly the type of situation she'd been training for her whole life. Dropping her hand and briefly closing her eyes, Mia allowed her muscle memory to dictate the situation as it had practised a thousand times before.
Using her left leg to propel herself forward, Mia promptly stepped up and kneed him in the stomach before swiping his hand away from her neck. Caught rather off-guard by her reaction, the man stumbled back briefly and had just centred his footing when he was met with an elbow to the temple.
Now unquestionably more pissed off than he was before, he curled his left hand into a fist and launched it towards Mia, which she escaped by that much. The man's fist had landed into the brick wall which actually made a few pieces of rubble crumble down onto the floor, and Mia took the opportunity to buckle him at the back of his right knee, slightly misbalancing him for only a moment.
With her knife at the ready in her right hand and the adrenaline reverberating through her body so loudly that Texas could've heard it, Mia awaited his next move. As he turned to face her, he glanced down at the knife with his face completely unreadable and still covered by the mask.
The man slid his hand into a pocket that sat on his mid-thigh and slipped out a blade that Mia recognised to be the Soviet NR-40.
He's totally doing a 'mine is bigger than yours' thing right now, isn't he?
Mia launched herself at the man with as much force as she could conjure and brought her Kiridashi to his ribs in an attempt to slash him. However, he didn't seem too keen on prolonging the ordeal any more than he already had. He promptly side-stepped her attack and sliced his own knife at the inside of her upper arm, causing Mia to wince in pain and momentarily lose her focus; that was all he needed.
Taking advantage of her current state, the man landed an uppercut to her abdomen before knocking her down with a hook to the jaw. Undecided as to whether or not he should finish the job, the man stood over her as she kept the knife resolutely in hand and stared up at him, something akin to fire in her eyes.
Feeling comforted by the fact that she'd been in moments of near-death a few times before, Mia took it for what it was and decided that she refused to die without at least getting the last word in.
"If you're gonna kill me, then can you at least do it with the metal arm? Y'know, it'll probably make for a better story to tell when I get to Heaven," said Mia as she wiped some blood from her lip.
The man knelt down before Mia and ran his critical eyes over her.
Height: 5'9.
Weight: 135 lbs.
Age: 20-25.
Level of Threat: Moderate.
Terminate: Negative.
As Mia awaited the blow that would surely end her life, she thought back to her family and hoped beyond hope that she would picture them through to her final moment. Closing her eyes and welcoming the pain, Mia barely registered that her assailant spoke before he threw a punch with his right hand to her temple that left her unconscious.
"небо не ждут".
Heaven does not await.
Mia caro – My dear
Uus, sensai – Yes, teacher
Zalami – Dude
Ahsant – Well done