A/N: I am so sorry for such a late update and will try my hardest to have the next chapter up by this next weekend. Thank you minx, Cotton Blossom Diva, nightmarehunter676, and angpao for leaving reviews. I really appreciate it! Nightmarehunter676, I definitely agree that older Howard is a jerk compared to the younger version. Cotton Blossom Diva, all those questions will be answered as the story goes on! I'm really happy you enjoyed the story so far. It's so hard to choose between Captain and the Sergeant, but I guess we'll see how things go when the story progresses. Whether she's friends or romantically involved things will get crazy when she and Tony find out what really happened to their parents, so that will be fun. I've been thinking about another story in the works with another minority OC (truth be told, all my OCs in my stories are minorities loll) but I'll let you know when that happens!
I hope you all enjoy the chapter!
REVISED 11.25.2017
"Wow, this is some fantastic steak. Slightly more on the well done side, but you know? I'm not exactly keen on getting sick," Semira muttered, remembering the lack of sanitation in this era. Knife and fork in hand, the young woman cut the last bit of the large sirloin that covered the plate just moments earlier, and placed it in her mouth.
She continued to chew on the piece of meat, thoughts racing in her mind, when she looked up to see Steve Rogers staring at her. The intensity of his stare was enough to revert her gaze back to the portion of food on her lap, biting back a groan all the same. She couldn't exactly detect what was going on in that head of his during her brief look, but it was getting on her last nerves.
The others, her father included, left the tent to God knows where, most likely to deliberate on what they should do with her, leaving the Captain to babysit her for the time being. Fortunately for her, the grouch of a colonel decided to stick to his word about her meal and drink, not failing to order the Captain to make sure she didn't leave the tent before heading out through the thick fabric flaps.
Now it was just the two of them, plus his unconscious friend on the other side of her.
Making sure to chew and swallow, Semira gave the man a small smile.
"Do you want some?" she asked, causing his eyes to widen slightly when she acknowledged him. She had been talking to him, or more likely herself since he had yet to respond to her, ever since the A-team left. Embarrassment was an emotion that hardly ever struck the young woman but the fact that Captain America was ignoring her was something else entirely. "It tastes pretty good."
She slowly shifted the tray closer to him as if he were a wild animal she was trying to feed, only for him to shake his head vigorously and chuckle rather nervously.
"That's quite alright, ma'am," he said, blue eyes shifting to the man on the cot. Semira stared at him, mind shuffling through reasons as to why he would be behaving in such an odd manner around her when it suddenly hit her.
She was in the forties and that meant racism was rampant in this era. Not a new issue to her since even back in her time it was still prevalent, but at least then there was some progress. Here, the problem hadn't even been remotely tackled like it would be in several decades.
Putting another neatly cut piece of steak in her mouth, she looked back up at the man to find him staring once again. This time around she didn't hesitate to stare right back at him, silently chewing on the piece of steak. That was how she ended up in a brief staring match with Captain America, the golden boy of the United States of America.
Too bad it didn't last more than five seconds.
"Um, ma'am, is every –"
"Is it cause I'm black?" she asked, interrupting him. She knew it was rude, especially when he continued to address her as ma'am, but she couldn't help herself. Tony practically engrained an unapologetic attitude within her when it came matters like this or almost anything in general. She had a feeling the Captain was nothing but a gentleman toward anyone no matter their background, remembering when he stood up for her to the old grouch of a colonel, but she needed assurance.
And with the confused look on the good old Cap's face, Semira didn't hesitate to elaborate further.
"Negro, colored. I don't know exactly what the hell I'd be described as in this era."
She saw the features of his face harden by the time she finished her brief explanation, shaking his head in retaliation.
"I don't view you any less than myself, ma'am," he said adamantly, laying his hand atop her shoulder. "And if eating some of your food will assure you then I'll do it, but I thought it would be better for you to finish your meal."
The corners of Semira's lips stretched upward into a small smile while she glancing down at the large hand on her sore shoulder. Semira had met many people so far in her twenty-four years of life and had never come across a stranger that was so genuine as the man before her. Not many young men in any day or age would have expressed such honesty so openly and vehemently.
No wonder her father bothered Tony so much about how great Steve Rogers was. From what she could make of the Captain so far, the man was practically perfect.
"You don't have to touch me to prove you're not racist," she told him, a playful tone woven in her words. Though she wasn't sure if Steve knew she was joking, pink hinting at his cheeks.
"I – I didn't mean – I am so sorry, ma'am, I – "
"I'm just teasing you," she said, interrupting the flustered man's apology. "Call me Semira, Captain."
The smile on her face grew as she glanced at him, tilting her head as she considered the man's strange behavior from moments ago to now. The oddities were all so painstakingly obvious. His silence when she was talking to him, the way he constantly stared, his face flushed just by something she said, and the incessant stammering.
She would have never guessed Captain America to be so…. awkward.
It was actually endearing with his bright blue eyes wide and the blush that crept along his face.
"You can call me Steve," he said, voice low as he made eye contact with her once again. The relief on his face was evident, no matter the pink hue that spread across his skin.
First name basis with Captain America. Who would've thought?
"Okay, Steve. Do you mind telling me where we are and what day it is?"
That was a question she wanted answered since she landed in Schmidt's lab. From the moment she stepped foot in this decade, she had been knocked unconscious with no clue of the date and how long she's been held captive.
"It's November fourth and we're in Italy, ma'am – Semira," he replied, making sure to correct his mistake.
"Year?"
The look he sent her made her think twice in asking that question, noticing the slight suspicion in his eyes. There was no doubt that the Captain had his doubts about her, but she was sure that he wouldn't be able to guess where exactly she came from. Time travel wasn't exactly deemed possible.
Until now.
"Nineteen forty-three," he said slowly.
She knew she was in the forties, but she still had to keep her composure. The finality in his tone that made her twitch slightly. There was no doubt about it now, but it was still so odd to hear it out-loud with those numbers spoken so surely. It made her want to crawl under the terrifyingly itchy sheet and wake up from this nightmare. To wake up in her penthouse, call her brother, who would be healthy and dandy, and laugh it off.
But that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Not when she had no clue how to get back to the present day. There was no time machine built that brought her here. Actually, she had no idea what exactly brought her to 1943 now that she thought about it.
Her mind automatically replayed the scene in her head before she found herself in the lab full of Nazis. Remembering how quickly her legs quickly carried her towards her Audi inside the dim private parking garage, phone pressed to her ear while calling Rhodey. She remembered how much Germany and Tony were on her mind when she suddenly felt herself falling as if a hole suddenly opened beneath her. Though her memory failed her past the sensation of falling where she opened her eyes in what seemed like seconds later, to find herself in the forties.
The only people who might have a clue as to how she came here was Schmidt. He and his men were there when she initially came to this time. They must have seen what brought her to this decade.
"Ma – Semira?"
She jumped slightly at her name, nearly forgetting Steve was sitting beside her. Her gaze focused back on the man to find his concern filled eyes, but she didn't miss the curiosity mingled in them. The young woman raised her eyebrows expectantly for his question, noticing his eyes were focused on the side of her face.
"You were bleeding on your right temple just hours ago. The cut was deep when Bucky accidently fell on you, and now it's completely healed," he said quietly. Semira felt her jaw drop slightly, while she unconsciously touched her head. The small ridges of dried blood were hardened to the touch, but she couldn't feel torn flesh, proving the man's words right. Her mind flitted back to the last memories she had when she was awake and the pain that shook her entire body.
She didn't know whether to be more shocked at what the man was insinuating or the fact that the handsome dark haired man's name sounded so ridiculous.
"That's physically impossible. I would know. When I broke my arm it took about the same time as it would for any one else," she said, remembering the time she fell as a kid during her gymnastics days. It was a half lie. The clean fracture had healed weeks before it should have, something that she never cared to investigate. Thankfully Tony was only astonished, curious at first but concluded that as a child who was growing, it wasn't surprising how fast she could heal.
But that didn't explain how a deep cut healed in the span of hours, not even a scab in sight.
"Schmidt said that you are a god among men," he mentioned, his voice barely above a whisper. "I – Why woul – Do you know what he meant?"
Now that won the jaw dropping contest as she stared at the dirty blond. How couldn't she, when he blatantly said that the Red Skull called her a god. Her mind reeling at the thought, Semira shook her head, knowing exactly what she needed. Before the super soldier could say anymore, she raised her hand to stop him from talking any further.
"Now would be a great time to crack this open," she said, setting her tray to the small foldable table and reaching for the bottle of vodka. The pungent odor of alcohol reached her nose as she twisted the cap open, tilting the contents of the bottle into her mouth. The smooth liquid moving down her throat was one of familiar comfort to her, the burning sensation occurring with every gulp she took. It wasn't something she would typically do unless she were having a rough day or really trying to start the party, but desperate times called for desperate measures. This was most definitely a desperate time.
She was stuck in 1943 with nothing more than her cell phone, which was currently in the position of the younger version of her father, who was in his twenties and had no idea how they were related. Johann Schmidt had drugged her and she managed to escape, only for her to be knocked out by some stranger named Bucky. And here was Captain America telling her that a deep wound of hers was healed in an incredibly short time span, and that a Nazi called her a god among men.
The liquid contents were more than halfway gone by the time she pulled her lips away from the mouth of the bottle, instead staring forward as she sat up further on her cot. Her mind racing with multiple theories in her head as to how this all happened, slightly blurring into a collective memory courtesy of the alcohol's side effects. How she truly ended up here. Was it due to Schmidt or herself? The man himself was surprised she was in the lab and then proceeded to drug her. Then there was the healing. She doubted that Steve was lying about that, remembering what happened with Bucky, and if she truly could heal so quickly, then….
She didn't know.
There was absolutely nothing that she could even deduce from that. Not a damn –
'Months ago, my men have unearthed a most spectacular discovery in the desert regions in Northern Africa. You are of African descent, no?'
Johann Schmidt's voice reverberated in her head. He had said that to her before drugging her, the eagerness in his eyes were clear. Why would he bring that up and then tell Steve that she was a god?
"Semira?"
The concern was evident in Steve's voice, pulling her from within her mind and back to the real world. Blinking several times, Semira turned her head to the Captain only to find her head lolling to the side. She didn't know how long she was thinking but it must have been long enough for the effects of the alcohol to finally catch up with her.
Maybe drinking that much was a slight mistake since she was on to something at the moment, but she didn't mind. She had time to think about this tomorrow and she needed this feeling of freedom, or else a more neurotic behavior would take control. And that was never fun for her or other parties involved.
"I'm fine. Just processing this…stuff," she said, tapping finger to her temple.
Yes, processing that a Nazi practically referred to her as a god was not something she ever expected in her lifetime. But there was something off about the whole ordeal. If he thought that about her, then his ideologies didn't align with Hitler. He believed in something else entirely. Something that was almost unbelievable.
She needed to talk to Johann Schmidt.
It sounded crazy but that's what she needed to do. The man knew something and she needed answers. His knowledge could be the key to getting back to her time, to her brother and her life. But for now she was at the mercy of the United States Army.
"How did you learn English?"
Brown eyes locked onto blue at the abrupt question, before blinking several times. It took several seconds for her to understand what he was saying thanks to the strong vodka, but she guessed several seconds too late. Steve's face was turning an alarming shade of red, his face flushed from embarrassment.
"Ma – Semira, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just they're saying – well, you said you were from Egypt and I know English isn't the main language for natives," he said, finishing rather lamely. Semira missed the near slip of the tongue from Steve, though that could be because of the heat filling her body because of the vodka. It didn't take another second for her to rip off the itchy sheet from her body, revealing her athletic leggings and tennis shoes.
She was tired of sitting down for so long, a sore sensation rippling through her body the moment she woke. She didn't know when the last time she didn't use her legs for this long while conscious.
"Stop apologizing, it's really annoying. And if you really want to know, I was adopted as a baby and my parents spoke English. So it's pretty much the only language I know," she said, shifting her body where her legs now dangled from the side of the cot before pushing off to plant her feet on the floor.
Huge mistake.
Her legs collapsed beneath her, body lurching forward and straight to the floor. Only she didn't hit the floor but a wall of muscle, or more the wall of muscle caught her. She felt the large hands steady her body before lifting her up, her world swaying side to side as her butt was planted on the cot once again.
"Thanks," she breathed out, looking up to see the Captain's face inches from her own. Ignoring the close proximity, Semira couldn't help the smile on her face as she looked at the man. "You'd think I'd be able to walk after carrying a full grown man on my back."
"Am I interrupting?"
Her head turned as much as possibly to see the once unconscious dark haired man staring in their direction, an eyebrow raised and the upward tilt of the corner of his lip indicated the sly smirk on his face.
"Not at all. Steve's pretty shy, so I doubt we'd get further than a peck, if I don't fall asleep first," she remarked offhandedly. Though she doubted her closely strung words were lost on Bucky with the wide range of emotions expressed on dark haired man's face. The perplexed expression appeared first, mouth agape as he looked from her to Steve, only to start laughing in the next second.
Semira winked at the man before turning to face the Captain, his blue eyes wide. Scarlett tinged the super soldier's cheeks and she could practically feel the heat radiating the man as he blushed deeply.
"It's just a joke," she said, patting his chest muscular reassuringly. She made to smile up at the man when her eyes suddenly landed on the bright blue glow emitting from his pant pocket.
A familiar sensation swept over her body, small hairs standing on end. Steve and his friend flew from her mind as the pull towards the light was nearly irresistible.
She made to move his hands from her side when she suddenly heard a faint whisper.
She would have passed it off as a drunken stupor. If only she was still intoxicated, but it felt as if all the alcohol from her body quickly metabolized leaving her as sober as the two men in the tent. And she was downright positive she heard a voice.
Semira didn't have to wait long to hear it again. The whisper was so quiet she could hardly make it out at first, but it was unmistakable.
Awaken.
