Chapter Three:
Whenever Captain America had a lot of thing on his mind, he either went for a run, worked out in the gym, or drew.
Today, Steve picked up his sketchpad and pencil and sat down at his desk.
Steve could not get his mind off of the woman in Sam's fifth grade class photo. He had wanted to believe that Sam was imagining things when he said that the girl he met was his teacher. Steve figured that it was just a coincidence that she looked the same as "Ms. Stacey Rogers." After all, like Sam said, his teacher should have been in her forties by now. Steve had heard about people meeting their doppelgangers. He had seen and read articles about them on the Internet during the times he would try to keep up with the 21st century's events.
Steve should have known better.
He had once been an asthmatic, "little guy" who got into fights in alleyways but after joining the army, he was transformed into a super soldier with the aid of a German scientist. He had fought in the war and had accidentally placed himself into suspended animation for over seventy years after defeating a man who had "left humanity" behind. He flew in a hovercraft and fought aliens. He had a team that consisted of a man in a metal suit, two S.H.I.E.L.D agents, a god, and a man who could transform into a green monster.
When he thought things could not get any stranger, his best friend (who he had watched fall to his death back in the forties) walked into his life and tried to kill him. They were back on good terms now, but that doesn't change the fact that it was getting harder for Steve to doubt the impossible after all the things that had happened in his life.
It should not have been hard for Steve to believe that Sam's teacher did not age a day over twenty years.
It should not be hard to believe that Sam's teacher could be Ginny Abbott, Steve and Bucky's childhood friend.
But it was.
Steve had not realized how tightly he was gripping his pencil until it snapped into two. He looked down at his sketchpad and brushed away the wooden splinters. On the paper was a sketch of Ginny. The Ginny he remembered. He had drawn her in a position he had often seen her in – tucked in bed and gazing out her window.
"She didn't leave her room much, did she?" Bucky asked over Steve's shoulder.
"No, but she wanted to." Steve sighed, turning to look at the soldier. He had gotten used to Bucky walking noiselessly around the apartment. After the first couple of days living together, Steve no longer jumped when Bucky snuck up on him.
"Do you think Sam really saw her, Buck?"
Bucky did not answer.
"Buchanan!"
Ginny jumped in surprise and nearly spilled the tray of water she was carrying onto the customers she was serving. Her eyes widened with panic and she quickly placed the glasses onto the table before apologizing to the family. Nothing had spilled but her reaction had startled them.
After she was sure that the family did not need anything from her, Ginny tucked the tray under her arm and briskly walked towards the person who called her.
It was her boss, Rylan Wilmer.
Mr. Wilmer, as Ginny was instructed to call him, did not look like an intimidating man with his slender build and neatly styled hair. In fact, Ginny thought that if she had seen him outside the restaurant, she would have guessed that he was fresh out of college and was off to take on the world. His appearance gave off that kind of vibe.
But Mr. Wilmer was much older than Ginny assumed. He did not disclose his age but, according to Ginny's co-workers, he has been working for the restaurant for more than a decade. He knew the layout like the back of his hands and would immediately notice if a chair was out of place upon opening. Mr. Wilmer knew the recipe for every dish on the menu and would fire the chef on the spot if the food were not up to his standards. Mr. Wilmer was not afraid of losing employees.
Ginny was afraid of Mr. Wilmer. Like most people, Mr. Wilmer towered over Ginny's short frame and the smile he had plastered on his face was starting to look cynical rather than welcoming. He did not need to do much for Ginny to feel inferior to him.
When Ginny was near, Mr. Wilmer gestured for her to follow him to the back of the kitchen. The blonde timidly walked behind him, careful to avoid waiters and waitresses dashing to deliver orders.
"What did I say about bringing your problems to work, Ms. Buchanan?" Mr. Wilmer asked, his smile gone.
"Sir?"
"I only ask three things from my waiters and waitresses, Ms. Buchanan, can you name what they are?"
Ginny felt like a child with how Mr. Wilmer was talking to her but nevertheless answered. "One is fast hands and feet, two is good food recommendations and three – "
"Three is a friendly demeanor," Mr. Wilmer interrupted. "That of which you are lacking."
Ginny's brows rose in shock and she opened her mouth to protest but Mr. Wilmer stopped her.
"Ms. Buchanan, I know this may not be your dream job but while you are on duty I expect you to act like this is the best goddamn job in the world. I expect you to smile and interact with the customers, am I clear?"
"I understand, Mr. Wilmer," Ginny replied. "But I'm confused. Haven't I been doing that?"
"If you have, would I have called you back here to remind you when there are customers outside, waiting for their orders to be taken and their food to be given?" Mr. Wilmer did not wait for an answer. "Ms. Buchanan, ever since you've started working here, you've been walking around the restaurant in a daze. It's not good for the establishment if the staff acts like robots. It's either you push whatever it is you're thinking about to the very back of your mind you're fired."
Ginny gulped and watched Mr. Wilmer turn his back to her. He was just about to leave before he called Ginny's attention once more.
"There is a gentleman in table seven who's ready to order. He specifically asked you to serve him."
Ginny panicked.
"Remember rule three, Ms. Buchanan!"
Ginny did not rush to the customer waiting for her. She took her sweet time making her way through and out of the kitchen. She ignored the pitying looks the chefs were giving her. They knew that Mr. Wilmer was harsh and they did not wish his bad side on anyone. Ginny did not mind though. She actually was not sure if being fired was such a bad idea. She only applied for the job because it was something she has never done before.
Ginny was confident that there were more jobs out there that she has yet to tackle, but the thought of having another job interview made the blonde pick up her pace. She walked over to table seven and made sure to plaster a smile on her face.
Despite what Mr. Wilmer had said, Ginny did not mean to go about her job halfheartedly. She did not even realize that she had allowed her feelings to show. Ginny could not help it. Ever since her encounter with Sam, she has been troubled with thoughts that even she knew were not at all problematic.
When Ginny found out that she was going to be indefinitely in her twenties, she made it a point to stay out of trouble. She knew that if she drew attention to herself, it could bring her harm and because of that, Ginny had gotten used to hiding.
After every job, home, and identity, Ginny disappeared and moved on to her next thoroughly planned life. She would lose contact with every person she met in her previous lives just so that she could not be connected with anybody. Ginny had gotten used to being on her own.
Things had always been this way since the forties and Ginny had lived through several decades with no problems whatsoever. That is, until Sam Wilson recognized her.
"Good Afternoon! My name is Ginny and I'll be your server for today!" Ginny cheerily said as she dug into her pockets and brought out a notepad and a pen. "I'm so sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order?" She clicked her pen and pressed the tip to the paper, ready to jot down whatever it was the customer wanted.
"It's no problem."
Ginny looked up and her smile faltered. Mr. Wilmer had said the customer specifically asked for her to serve him. She panicked because she had assumed that some sort of creep was the one who requested her but seated at table number seven were none other than Captain America and the Falcon.
"Everything on the menu looks good, Gin," Steve said casually, putting his menu down while Sam continued to leaf through his. "What would you recommend?"
A/N:
Wow. Where have I been? I'm so sorry for my absence. I really have no other explanation besides inspiration for this chapter only hitting me TODAY.
Haha... anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Stay tuned for the next one :)
Don't forget to leave a comment/review! I'd like to know what you think :) Lots of love to those who favorited/followed this fic and spent time to read this story :) I really appreciate it.
Sorry for any typos and grammatical errors that this chapter might have...
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