Archive of Our Own

The rage that burns inside me should not exist. As far as my programming is concerned, I shouldn't even care. But I do. It is the fact that I do that convinces me there is still some shred of humanity left. He would've liked that. He would've liked to know that his boy didn't fall after all.

I watch the pallbearers carry the casket to the gravesite. Tony is there among them. Are those tears on my cheeks, or is it just the rain? I clench my teeth together to keep from screaming at him. He doesn't deserve this! What makes him think he is worthy of bearing the body of his fallen enemy to its final resting place? If I ever get my hands on him…

But not now. Not here. Now is the time for mourning and respect, not for revenge. He wouldn't want that. I gaze up into the dark clouds overhead and let the water pour over my face. The sky itself seems to weep for the fallen hero.

As I glance around at the hundreds of faces, I find I recognize only a very few. For some reason, it shames me. Because, whether merely by name, or on a more personal level, he knew every one of them. He made it his business to know. I can just imagine that special smile he always had for everyone he met. Young or old, weak or strong, powers or no powers, it didn't matter. Every American citizen was important to him. He fought for their freedom. He fought for their livelihood. He fought for their future.

He was an American icon, an American soldier, an American hero. But, more than that, he represented the American spirit. The people of this country often took him for granted, believing that, no matter what, he would always be there to protect them. But now they realize that he was far from immortal. And I hate myself for being one of them.

There was a time, long ago, when I respected him, not only as a great soldier and a true American hero, but also as the father figure I so desperately needed during that period of my life. There was also a time, so much later, when I hated him for it. Now, after… this… I regret every minute I spent despising him. Even though I know it wasn't entirely my fault, it sickens me that I could so completely loathe everything he ever stood for. It almost shames me to say that I also stood for the same thing once, right alongside him.

And yet, at the same time, his legacy is nothing to be ashamed of. I am not his failure, because I am still here and I'm still fighting his fight, for truth, justice, and the American way. And even if I never take up his mantle, I will continue to fight on in his place. Because, while there may never be another Captain America, there will always be someone to stand for the right and the spirit of the American people. Farewell, Steve. May you rest in peace.