Ok, yeah there are literally a million of these, but I've had this idea in my head for a few months now and I figured I might as well let it out.

"How's he been?" Coulson looked up as Fury walked in, the Colonel nodding toward Rogers who was curled up on the bed in the hospital. Fury had offered him better lodgings but Rogers seemed to prefer the room he woke up in. He said it provided...familairty. Fury turned to Coulson as he raised an eyebrow. "Well? I don't have all day."

Coulson nodded, "Of course. Well, physical and mental tests both check out fine. He's just as fit as he was seventy years ago. The shield is in perfect working order too. The uniform is damaged but we're working on a new one anyway."

Fury nodded, "Have you filled him on on what's happened since the accident?" A series of soft thumps from the room drew Fury's attention away from Coulson, only for him to realize it was simply Rogers performing a morning training series of jumping jacks. Fury grabbed Coulson's shoulder as he started walking the two of them down the hall.

Coulson looked over his clipboard. "He's been informed on the major events, end of the war, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, fall of the Soviet Union, Super Mario Bros"

Fury raised an eyebrow.

"He was curious what a 'Koopa Troopa' mentioned by one of the guards was"

Fury frowned. He'd need to remind the guards to keep the modern references to a low around Rogers for the next few weeks at least. "Anything else?"

Coulson hesitated slightly before continuing. "He did make one request"

Fury glanced at him, "Which was?"

"He wants to see his grave."

Steven Rogers
Captain America
Born July 4th 1917
Died September 22nd 1943
A Good Man

Steve brushed a hand over the white stone grave as he knelt on the wet grass, the moistrure soaking the knees of the suit he had borrowed. Despite requesting to wear his dress uniform, he was told that he would come across as anocharistic. He sighed, it was odd seeing his grave. Seventy years...everything he knew gone. The world was..odd...broken. People were ruder, paranoid, conspiracy filled. Lost in their machines and celebrities. The heart of America was gone, replaced with a blinking light.

"So you're back after all." A gruff voice drew Steve's gaze up to a shockingly familair sight. Though his face was worse for wear and his hair had grayed, leaning on a thick cane was Dugan, bowler hat and all. Steve gaped slightly as he rose to his feet, blinking a few times. "Heh, yeah it's me..." Dugan grumbled, "Only one left though.."

"Only one left..." Steve repeated, dazed. So they were dead, he had thought as much...but he had hoped that perhaps they had lived. Dugan winced sympathetically as he patted his old friend on the back.

"Sorry bout that, thought you knew." Dugan clicked his tongue as he glanced at the grave. "I try to stop by their graves every year, yours and Bucky's too. His is near here, just over..." Dugan was about to turn and point when Steve spoke up

"I stopped on the way...how did..what happened to them?"

Dugan leaned against a tree, as he rubbed his chin. "Hmm, well let's see. Sorry, for some of us it wasn't yesterday." Steve, despite himself, chuckled. "After you and Barnes were lost, they split us up. No need for the Commmandos without the Goverment's best recruiting gimmick since Uncle Sam. Philips died in a bombing raid a few months later and Dernier was lost at Normandy, but the rest of the gang survived the war. Falsworth actually took up tights after the war, called himself the Union Jack. He even joined some team of weird guys, called themselves Namor, Vision and the Human Torch. Weird..I suspect they were probably mutants though."

"Mutants?"

"People born with weird powers, I don't much understand it myself, but it ain't my problem. Anyway, Falsworth died from heart failure a few years back. Morita went back to Fresno and raised a family there, died of stab wounds from some thug of all things. Ain't right..man like that, dying like that." Dugan shook his head as he let out a breath. "Jones went to work for the goverment, helped found some intelligence agency, something homeland interevention or something like that. Stark died in a car crash few decades back...hmm, let's see who else.."

"What happened to Peggy?" Steve asked, his voice cracking as he said her name.

"Figured you want to know that. She was the one who kept looking for you, you know? Didn't give up for years...however sometimes the heart has to move on. She got married, had a kid. Told him all about you, swear if you could have seen the kid. Like he thought you were the almighty himself. "
Steve nodded. He had hoped Peggy had remarried, she deserved that. It would kill him if she had wasted her life on him. He was glad she found happiness even if he wasn't the one to give it to her. Though..."Who did she marry?"

"I forget the name...sorry"

"It's fine.

Coulson glanced up as Rogers rose, shaking Dugan's hand. "Dum Dum has delivered the info, Fury. He's coming here, we'll be heading toward base." He closed communication as Rogers came to the car. "Did you find what you wanted?"

"Yeah..I think so" Rogers replied as he eased into the seat. Coulson headed around to the front as he glanced at the grave they were parked next to with a slight smile and nod.

"He's back, mom, and he's every bit the hero you said he was" He muttered beneath his breaTH as he took his place behind the wheel and started the engine, pulling out of the graveyard.

Margaret "Petty" Coulson
Born August 21st 1916
Died October 11th 2005
Beloved Wife, Caring Mother, Darling Aunt

I don't own Captain America

Word on the dates, the only one that is canon is the birth date of Captain America, the rest I made up the best I could figure.