A Call to Action (Avengers Fan Fiction #1) | REWRITING

Chapter 37

AN: Dedicated to the great @ElectricRoses for commenting and voting. 

Dreary. Dark. Desolate. Dull. Dismal. Dead.

So many words to describe the scene right now and convey what everyone felt.

The sun shined, but became overshadowed by the clouds roaming in the sky. Gravestones chipped away from the different types of weather and turned a lighter gray over time. The grass grew perfect and green towards the center of the cemetery, but towards the outskirts, they formed in patches. Birds didn't chirp in the trees. Some bugs sang songs in the grass and some birds flew around, but not much else could be heard other than the ceremony.

Steve and I watched Peggy's funeral from the sidelines behind some trees. There weren't a lot of agents from S.H.I.E.L.D. there, but some of Peggy's friends from funeral homes. Some were family members, others just people she must have saved along the way in one form or another. Steve didn't want to go over there in front of everyone. He wanted to visit her grave in private. He had told me that joining those people would make him feel outcast. No one knew her longer than he did. They would beg for stories, and seeing as he was Captain America, they might have bugged him for even more stuff.

The ceremony was beautiful. Soft music from a choir played as the casket lowered into the grave. Soldiers marched away and gave her next relative the American flag that was on top of her casket. She served her country well and was one hell of a soldier. After founding one of the top companies in the world, she deserved every good thing she got. Some people described her in their speeches. Strong willed. Loving. Dedicated. Funny. Charming. Radiant smile. An accent so perfect it was like music to their ears. One of them even mentioned her fighting skill and how she could have taken on more than twenty guys at once if she had to.

Steve leaned against the tree and peered down at the ground. Tears swelled up in his blue eyes, but none of them dropped onto his face. He tried so hard to keep it together, but I knew he was dying on the inside.

"It was bound to happen, whether naturally of old age or not," I began in a solemn tone. "The scene looked like she died fighting."

He sniffled and wiped his nose. He straightened out his brown leather jacket and cleared the tears from his swollen eyes. "She would never go down without a fight. It's just who she was. It's how she'll always be remembered."

I let Steve have a moment of silence. In a time like this, I was surprised that he didn't want to be alone. He asked us to come along. I glanced down at Amelia, who held my hand tighter in intervals of ten seconds. She looked down at the ground and used her shoe to play with the bug she found in the grass. Her long black hair shined and her brown eyes always widened in wonder. She adored exploring new places and meeting new people. She got along with the team just fine, but missed her father at times. She often asked where he was, and all I could ever manage to say was in a safe and happy place.

What else was I supposed to say to a four year old?

Her mother died when she was born. Amelia's father put a restraining order against her aunt, who was crazy. Apparently, she had kidnapped Amelia and almost got her killed in the process. Amelia had no other family. I did what I had to. I took her in. She's been so happy and hasn't left my side since.

"The group is meeting us at the tower for the big memorial dinner. I can't wait to hear the stories you have of Peggy," I declared. My eyes traveled over to Steve, who grabbed my hand gently. He stared off into the distance as people began to leave. Minutes passed and soon, the grave was filled up and everyone was gone.

Steve let go of my hand and walked towards the grave. Amelia began to follow, but I softly tugged her back and told her he needed some alone time. It was the least I could do for him.