Okay, yeah, I know I'm in the middle of a different fic, but I couldn't help making this one-shot. It's pretty different from the other story I'm writing, just telling you now. Actually, it's a LOT different, but same difference, right? Right.

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, The Avengers, or . . . you know . . . anything.

The casket was placed, reverently, in the ground. Not a sound was made by the small group of people watching it. The location for the burial of their teammate had been kept a secret, if only for privacy's sake. Otherwise, the place would've been flooded with inquisitive reporters and mindless citizens pleading for autographs.

The remaining Avengers were not in the mood for people. For anything. This was a day of mourning, and they all needed to release their bottled-up emotions without a video camera recording their breakdown for the world to see.

Steve had his head lowered in respect, but tears pricked his eyes as he cast an eye over his teammates – his friends.

Natasha would have looked composed and completely normal if not for the unshed tears welling up in her eyes and the impossibly tight grip she had on her neighbor's arm.

Said neighbor was gazing straight at the casket, unashamed of the wet tear marks streaking down his face. The archer took a deep, shuddering breath even as he patted the man next to him on the back consolingly.

Thor was a big, blubbering, thunder-god mess. His body shook with silent sobs while Clint continued giving him the physical contact he so desperately needed.

The last person in the line of heroes was rubbing his eyes furiously, a pair of glasses in his hand. Bruce was trying not to let his emotions get the better of him, as he had all his life, but it must've been so hard.

He'd lost one of the few people who'd managed to get close to him.

They all had.

When Steve finally tore himself from his thoughts, the coffin had been buried, and he and one other person were the only ones remaining. Everyone else had left to grieve, alone, in their rooms.

The other person was standing directly in front of the recently dug grave. Steve slowly approached the figure until he was standing behind him, close enough to touch.

This person had been present at the funeral, but he'd separated himself from everyone, waiting for them to leave before he said his goodbyes.

Steve winced when the person dropped to his knees and pounded the ground with his fist.

"Why?" the man whispered in a broken, border-line crying voice. "It wasn't – I didn't -" He gave up trying to form a complete sentence and simply sobbed.

Steve wanted to comfort him, tell him it was going to be all right, but he knew better than to interfere with the man's pain.

He didn't deserve this.

None of us had, Steve thought despondently.

The man suddenly shouted in anger, his fingers digging into the ground. "You idiot!"

Steve was startled for a minute, but then he realized that the man was directing his words toward the grave.

"You left us!" he yelled, ignoring the tears that spilled down his cheeks. "You deserted us!"

Steve found himself agreeing with the man.

The man continued his rant, unaware of the person behind him. "What the heck were you thinking? Why did you have to be heroic all the frickin' time? Why couldn't you have been selfish for once?" He closed his eyes and loosened his fingers from the soil, his rapid breaths growing slower. "It's just not fair," he said in a quieter tone of voice.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stood and brushed the grass and dirt from his expensive pants, not that he cared what condition they were in, and turned to leave.

Steve stepped aside, allowing him to walk past, but the man suddenly turned back to face the grave.

Tony Stark's eyes were full of sorrow as he softly asked, "Why'd you leave us, Cap?"

Steve Rogers found that he didn't have an answer for him.