AN: I should be focused on relaxing and healing, but, ah, a quick fuck you has to be dished out to Marvel. I am Jewish and I am very angry about their recent decision to make Steve into an actual Hydra agent.

Title comes from a contemporary song that is sung during Pesach – Bashana Haba'ah. And it's ridiculous on how many versions there are for this song.

This is totally not edited, but feel free to ask any questions about the Judaism in this fic.

Disclaimer: I will tear Steve Rogers away from Marvel's hands.

Title: od tireh (you will yet see)

Word Count: 828

Summary: What and see, wait and see what a world this can be. A Jewish Steve Roger Character Study.

before

"Steven," Sarah decides on a cold morning. She nervously rubs warmth back into her baby's body. "Steven. Steven, Steven, Steven. You're not going to die," she promises. "You're going to live as Steven."

She repeats his new name again and again, anything to ward off death.

i.

"They think I'm what?" Steve stares at Sam, aghast at the news.

Sam lets out a low whistle. "Hoo boy, you may want to sit down for this." He eyes his friend warily. "Man, you mean all of those book are wrong about you? Again?"

"I'm already sitting!" Steve dumps his head into his hands, groaning something under his breath in Yiddish – the words that his mother had told him to never say in polite company. He ends his curses in English, though: "Fucking historians." He amends this. "Fucking Goyim historians. I specifically wrote this in case I ended up dead! There was a letter and everything!"

ii.

The man is reedy and has a ridiculous tuff of hair on his upper lip.

Steve thinks the man is trying and failing at growing a moustache. It is very distracting because of hoe wrong it looks, almost like a dead caterpillar… Steve knows he should be paying attention, but now he keeps thinking about bugs instead of possible comments for the meeting.

"And what church your family is a member of?" the man asks. He twirls a pen between his fingers, sharing a sidelong glance with the other men in military garb and drab suits.

Steve's mind brings up the image of a drab synagogue—the smell of wax and spices in the sanctuary, the feel of the yad balanced in his hand as he stutters his way through his parsha, the words of Shema echoing around him…. He remembers his mother saying thinly about what their family name used to be back in the old country. He remembers her lighting a candle for his father and his relatives, saying the Mourner's Kaddish…

"We weren't a part of any," he says evasively, blinking away the memories of fighting in school, the Nazi salutes he and Bucky were given, and the increasing talks of the 'Jewish Problem'. The politicians in America and in Europe. The whispers he hears. The continuing bloodshed.

One day, he promises, he'll tell them all the truth.

But today he can't.

iii.

Steve is going to die.

He stumbles up to the bima, palms sweaty and the kippah nearly falling off his head. He grips the edge of the podium, his eyes following the words as his heart beats a fast tempo.

"Baruch Adonai ham-vo-rach l—" His voice cracks impressively. "—olam va-ed

Bucky's high laughter is immediately silenced by another member of the synagogue.

iv.

"Well, this is fucking embarrassing." Tony snaps his fingers. "JARVIS, I need you to do a massive copy-paste on the Internet."

Steve sighs.

"Do you want to know the gritty details about all the times you were seen as a good Catholic boy?" ask Tony.

Steve sighs again. "It wasn't like it was a good idea back then. I had to play along, but believe me, I had plans to set thing straight after the war."

"Sucks." Tony brings up holographic images of websites. "What are you, anyway? A Three-day Jew like my dad and I? Sephardi like Maria Hill? Oh!" He snaps his fingers again. "JARVIS, I also need you to send Steve all of the Hannukah presents that he missed out on!"

Steve glares at him.

v.

Steve recites the words silently at the metal doors close around him, and then everything becomes dark and full of pain.

vi.

Standing, Steve pulls his tallit close.

He curls his hand into a fist and beats on his chest with the rest of the congregants. He says the Hebrew words that feel as though they have been inscribed into his heart.

And he confesses.

He confesses his shame and guilt for not saving Bucky, for not doing enough in the war, for killing and hurting others, for feeling as though he is constantly standing on a knife's edge of who he is against what others want him to be.

The prayer ends. Another starts. It ends. Another starts.

The cycle of forgiveness goes on.

The guilt comes back ten-fold when they start naming the camps in-between the lines of the Mourner's Kaddish.

vii.

I am that I am, Steve remembers. He forcibly keeps his hands by his sides. I am that I am, he repeats, wishing that he had his father's old Star of David with him.

He bows his head, feeling lost in the war.

after

"It has come to my attention that I've been used as an example of being a righteous Christian."

There is a long pause. The reporters wait to hear the rest.

"But has it ever occurred to you that a Jewish person really wanted to go punch Hitler in the face? I mean, really, folks…."