Hi guys, this is my first story about Captain America

I don't own the characters, they belong to Marvel, I don't want to make any profit with this.

I hope you like this, I wrote it after reading „Fallen Son" the comic, where Cap dies. I wasn't really satisfied with him dieing like that, so I wrote one more suitable for a hero like him

Please forgive the bad English, I'm not a native speaker!

His team was scattered all over the place. There were still some enemies, who didn't run from a battle. They didn't even know who the leader of the soldiers, they fought that day, was.

Captain America walked the empty street –Where have they all gone? It became so quiet in the streets. Suddenly he heard a shot and a second later the bullet pierced his left shoulder. Immediately he turned to fight his attacker, but before he cought a look at him, two bullets followed. These were shot straight trough his heart.

The Captain gasped, now he saw Crossbones shoot at him one more time. Then the villain turned and left him alone.

It started to bleed –strong. Steve was dizzy. He couldn't stand on his legs anymore. The wounds didn't heal as usual.

It was cold, but he didn't shiver. Cold had never been a problem for him. He felt the warm blood on his hands, his neck, his chest. This time it was his own. Not able to move he tried to ignore the pain and slowly closed his eyes. He grew weaker and weaker, knowing that the end was close. Suddenly he heard steps, somebody running into his direction. He didn't see the face, but this somebody tried to stop his wounds from bleeding: „Steve? …Steve? Can you hear me?" Now he knew, it was Bruce, it was his voice.

The Captain tried to open his eyes again, but he couldn't. He whispered: „I'm sorry…" Dr. Banner desperately tried to stop the blood, but the wounds didn't seem to heal anymore. After a few minutes Bruce gave up and fell back on the hard asphalt. His hands were covered with the blood of his leader.

Steve Rogers breathed for the last time in his life. His heart stopped beating and his thorax stopped moving up and down. Captain America was no more.

Bruce just stared in the empty seeming grey of the sky. Thought about a poem by Walt Whitman for Abraham Lincoln. –Oh Captain, my Captain. Even he, as a scientist, loved poetry. It was so silent, so surreal in that loud and way too fast world.

„O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won"

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, then he sat up again.

„The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting"

He didn't hear any bells, just the sirene of a police car some blogs away. The people were all gone, they fled when the battle started, it was only the two oft hem on that lonely street.

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring

Dr. Banner wondered where the others were, the fight was done, everything used to be fine, but it wasn't. Fort hem it would never be the same again.

„But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead."

A tear slowly made it's way down his cheek. Looking at Steve he sat there in disbelief. It was really the truth his captain was dead. E would never speak, never walk, never laugh, never open his eyes, never breathe again.

Bruce tried to remember the next vers of the poem, but he couldn't. It was something about people celebrating. No… there wasn't any party on that cold and cloudy autumn day in New York.

Something with flags, bouquets and wreaths, but in New York there was solely chaos, destroyed buildings. Captain America's blood ponded on the ground, where the cold, still body lied.

Now Bruce Banner remembered the last part of the poem:

„My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will"

Bruce didn't dare to move, continued sitting silent, watching his leader.

„The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won,"

The city was safe, the Captain would be proud of his team.

„Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead."

He wanted to stand up and walk away and forget, but the last thing he would do was leaving Cap alone now.

Bruce grabbed his knees with his hands staring at Captain America with emptiness in his eyes. Slowly he mumbled the words he had already heard from Steve: „I'm sorry…"

It started to rain, but he didn't seem to care. He couldn't leave his leader –His Captain: fallen, cold and dead.