Everyone in the world thought I was dead, outside of a select few. Those few being the people I lived with, and Frankie. That's the way it had to stay. No one could know I was alive, or we could risk Night Weaver finding out.

So no one should be able to judge me as to why I was confused at the moment. "Why are we in a coffee shop?" If I were to be more specific, it would be a quite busy and popular coffee shop.

"Someone once told me to live a little," Steve chuckled. He studied menu before looking back at me, "What would you like?"

"Hot chocolate, yes to the whip cream, whole milk if they ask," I said, glancing around the shop for an empty seat.

Steve elbowed my side lightly to catch my attention, "We aren't staying."

I looked to him, confused. If we weren't staying here, where were we going? I didn't voice my question, instead I just let it be, I would find out soon enough.

Steve and I stood in comfortable silence until we reached the front of the line. He quickly ordered our drinks, then shuffled out of the way for the next customer. It didn't take long before they called out 'Calvin's' name. We grabbed our drinks, then weaved our way between the people to the door.

We exited the shop, taking a left. We said nothing as we walked, not wanting to break the comfortable silence. I took in all the sights of New York, wondering why I had never appreciated its disgusting beauty before. There was a rhythm for everything. The angry shouts, the honk of horns, the shuffling of feet, the woosh of the subway passing beneath your feet, all of them came together to create a song.

The smells were another story completely. One moment you could be smelling greasy hot dogs, next gyros, then ice cream. These would be followed by the sewer, the body odor of an interviewee, and possibly even the scent of the overflowing garbage bins.

I took a sip of my hot chocolate, contemplating all of the gems in the city. If I really tried I could find the beauty in every aspect of it. My thoughts were interrupted by Steve's body, or rather my walking into his body. I looked around to see what he had stopped for, however, it was my ears that had picked up the problem first.

Someone was in trouble. No matter how big or small the problem, I knew that Steve wouldn't be able to sit by and let it be. I guess that was something we had in common. Luckily for us, the problem came running straight for us.

The problem was a young man with a filthy appearance, shaggy hair, and what looked like a black eye. What really stood out about him was the bright pink Gucci bag he was carrying. An older lady came running not far behind him, screeching, "GIVE ME MY DAMN PURSE BACK!"

However, no matter how bad I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to go full out superhero on him. Steve wouldn't be able to either, we absolutely couldn't bring attention to ourselves. Instead, I settled for a more subtle take down.

Reacting quickly, I kicked my leg out. The young man didn't see it coming, and barreled right into it. He tripped over my leg and lost his balance. His arms pinwheeled for a moment before his hit the ground, body sprawled out. The young man started groaning in pain and I smirked, he deserved it.

The lady walked right up to him and snatched he purse from his grip. Then, almost as if nothing happened, she continued to walk on her way. A couple of people had gathered to watch the scene play out. There were too many people for it to be deemed safe for us to stay around. So I grabbed Steve's arm and ushered him away. Some beat cops would come for the delinquent soon anyways.

When we were a safe distance away, he finally spoke, "That was quick thinking."

"Well I had to do something!" I started sarcastically, "That purse did not match his outfit!"

Steve chuckled at me, then glanced around, "We are almost there."

We walked a couple of more blocks before I spoke again, "Where are we going anyways?" I asked.

I was answered with silence.

I looked at Steve, who had a pained look on his face. I turned to see where his attention was directed.

Somehow we had managed to walk far enough to get out of the busiest part of the city, almost to the point of the outskirts. It seemed as if the area had been abandoned, yet lovingly lived in. The streets were clean, there were benches placed generously about, and the grass was trimmed. Yet, the sidewalks were empty and void of any life, and cars passed few and far between. It didn't feel like it was New York.

The real eye catcher, however, was the grave yard sitting in front of us. It had simple black iron gates, well kept grounds, and beautiful trees. It looked peaceful, it was the type of place I would hope I ended up someday.

"Why a graveyard?"

"I died once."

"Steve?" I pushed, concerned.

"I mean, not really, not quite like you, but I did. I died, and I was brought back seventy years later."

He started to walk across the street and I followed. It seemed like he was on autopilot as he pushed the heavy gates open. There was a slight creak of protest from the hinges of the gate as it moved. Oblivious to the noise, he continued on.

"I had thought that my time had ended, when I woke up, I was almost crushed. I thought I was going to be free. No more pain, no more disappointment, no more problems, no more HYDRA." He gulped.

For a moment I considered what he said. I couldn't help but relate. When I died, I was at peace with it. I was ready to go, my time was up. Except, when I came back, I knew I was coming back, I had a choice in it.

"I came to realize that the life I used to have was the dream, and then I woke up in this world, my new life became the nightmare. There was more pain, there was more disappointment, there was more problems, and HYDRA was flourishing."

We eventually stopped in front of a grave stone. It wasn't a particularly large stone, it didn't stand out by any means, but it was beautiful. The granite of it gleamed in the sun, the blue-ish tint almost making it glow. What really stood out was the engraving. Once I read it, I immediately understood why we were there.

"When I woke up, it felt like I was being punished." My heart suddenly felt cold at his admission. "I thought possibly I had been sent to hell, but then you came along." He sat down heavily onto the newly grown grass. "You confused me. You were bright, genuine, caring, and you gave me hope that there was still good left in the world. Then suddenly you were gone."

I sat down next to him and started playing with the grass in front of me, feeling ashamed. I hadn't realized I mattered that much to the team. When I came back, and I saw all the hurt my death had caused, I had felt guilty.

"The hope was gone, or almost all of it. I had somehow gotten it in my head, that if I didn't open that black box, you couldn't be dead. That box was only to be opened upon your death. But, suddenly, I couldn't ignore your wishes, I knew that if I didn't open it, you would be mad. You specifically asked me to open it."

He picked a blade of grass and studied it thoroughly.

"What I found in that box took away the last hope I had in humanity. I had to show the others. There was a completely different you in that box. Suddenly you weren't confident or unbreakable, you weren't happy or loved. I spent too much time wondering how you took what the world threw at you, and still turned out the way you did."

I placed my hand on he knee, trying to comfort him. He dropped his blade of grass and grabbed my hand. Turning it around he inspected it. He stopped when he found the scar he was searching for. Steve gently traced the mark with his large fingers.

"There was so much detail, too much detail, of what he did to you. I only got through one sheet, it was for this one here." He gestured to the scar on my palm, "This came from the closet frame. He dragged you..." he stopped, gathering his thoughts. "I couldn't read anymore, it was personal, it was something you should have been able to tell me when you were ready. Then that choice was ripped from you."

He reached forward and gently wiped some dirt and old flowers of the foot of the grave.

"You died, and somehow, the world died with you."

I reached forward too, only I touched the engraving. Using my fingers, I traced the words as I read them "Ryder 'Matty' Matthews," I glanced back at Steve, "Hope that Was Ripped Away From the World too Soon."

"And now you're back."

"Thank you." I whispered, tears falling down my cheeks. It was beautiful.

He replied by wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. In that moment the warmth returned to my heart. We sat there for a moment, still, then he spoke, "Our hope is back."

He moved to stand up, then he leaned down and offered me a hand. I graciously took it and he helped me onto my feet. He turned to leave as I took one last look at my grave. It was weird to think that I had been buried and mourned.

If we dug it up, would my body still be in there?

I didn't dwell on the thought too long, instead I turned to leave. However, something caught my eye.

'Captain Steve Grant Rogers'

'Loved by All, Known by Few'

It was a grave that I knew had no body buried beneath it. I couldn't help but dwell on how depressing his engraving was. Sure, few people ever got the chance to know Steve, but the man deserved a much more personal saying. His life was so much more than being Captain America, yet that was all that was on his stone.

Nonetheless, I couldn't help but feel honored that I was put to rest next to him. Maybe now we could both bury the past, and look forward to the future.

-
AN:

So I have decided that since you guys take the time to review, I should take the time to reply! Seriously, all of the reviews are such a highlight! I love them!

NightOwl247:I do live! Thank you so much!

acompletenerd:If you thought that lay chapter was feels, what did you think of this one?

Elisablackcat:I'm glad you're excited about the update! I think your sentence got cut off though!

I hope to talk to you all again soon!