comesfrompain | [ to-do list ]

[ to-do list ]

1) Put Rogers' head on a spike
2) Take over Hell
3) Unbreak Bucky's dick
4) Buy milk

[Well, Rumlow couldn't really blame Bucky for that one. He was sure he had looked pretty damn surprised. Being slammed onto a desk wasn't a typical day at work, despite being in Hell.

Rumlow hummed a note and gave Bucky one more nip, rough enough to leave a mark. For a little while at least. He wasn't going to be the only one looking claimed.]

I'm sure you'll figure out something, sweetheart. [He shifted with Bucky and, reluctantly, pulled out, the cooler air on his cock making him shiver. Stepping back, he grabbed at his pants, pulling them up along with his underwear, tucking himself back inside before doing up the zip. He shrugged out of his coat and glanced down to check if his shirt was as soiled as he thought it would be.] Let me fix you up a little first.

[Rumlow said, smacking Bucky's ass lightly to get him to turn around.]

[The Soldier definitely would. The world of possibilities was endless, and he had just stumbled on the fact that he could do anything that he wanted. Rumlow didn't seem to mind at all given how things had ended, so that meant that he was free to explore his creative side as long as no one was hurt and inanimate objects weren't too destroyed in the process.

He shivered and stepped forward with the slap to his ass, pulling his wings back into his shoulders with a sickening wet sound before he turned around and began to pull up his own underwear. He was surprisingly clean as he pulled up his underwear then pants and reached beyond Rumlow to snatch the man's coat.

He leaned in, kissing Rumlow's lips.]

I left you a gift in your desk drawer. Have a good shift, handsome.

[Taking Rumlow's coat to hide his ruined shirt, he ghosted from the office and was gone.]

[Blinking as he was kissed, Rumlow wondered how Bucky wasn't more of a mess and then -- A gift? He was so caught in the thought of what that meant that he didn't even think about Bucky stealing his jacket. He sort of stared after him as he left, jacket covering most of the tatters of his shirt.]

Thanks..?

[And then, once Bucky was gone, started checking his drawers. One, in particular, was partially open. He looked inside.]

God dammit Bucky...

[This was far more of a casual affair than most of their other dates. It was about being comfortable, and they decided on nothing fancy or classy but rather made their way to one of the many pubs that Hell had. He had vowed not to get drunk this time, to keep it casual and to simply enjoy the evening. He had left Stella quietly in charge or at least his eyes and ears of the household for when Kenzi and Chase would no doubt watch movies too loud and get too drunk or high to be able to actually be functioning adults.

But now, halfway through their night and with a plate of what Hell called nachos and something that might have been chicken wings, they were casually drinking some alcohol and enjoying one another's company in the far corner where both of them could survey the entire room. It was loud, most conversations drowning out their own, which was how they both liked it too.

And he was playing gentle footsy with Rumlow too. He would slide his foot along his commander's calf, intent on listening to whatever Rumlow had to say and continued to pepper questions that finally moved away from work and daily Hell activities and turned to where he was endlessly curious.]

Did you do well in grade school when you were young? You're obviously very intelligent to the point where it seems like you would be bored in school. What did you want to be when you grew up?

[A relaxing date seemed like the perfect way to spend the night, give the kids some space where hopefully they wouldn't burn the house down. Just some dinner and drinks and playing at something resembling reality. They were far from your typical couple, but that didn't stop Rumlow from wanting to try it out.

Right now they were just throwing back your standard pub fare and a few beers, chewing the fat about whatever came up. It was good too, to just talk to Bucky. There were a lot more questions being asked and answered on his part, but Rumlow had long grown used to it with him. It was a part of their relationship, and nothing he really minded. Bucky was far from incessant, as far as he was concerned. Even when the questions started pushing towards a more personal topic.

His gaze slid over, away from the idle observance of the bar's patrons. Focusing on Bucky's eyes, Rumlow stared and weighed the potential motivations behind the question. Most likely, he just wanted to learn, and though Rumlow never really enjoyed talking about his past, he would. For Bucky.]

Yeah, in terms of smarts, sure. Got in trouble with teachers though, didn't like how I was rough-housing with the other kids. Guess I was bored with some of the subjects. Remembered reading shit and being told that I was too far ahead. Sorta killed the urge to put in the work after that.

[Rumlow wiped his fingers on a napkin and then folded his arms across his lap.]

When I grew up? Man... a rock star maybe? I don't think I ever really settled on any one idea.

[Bucky just plain liked knowing more about Rumlow, but it was hard in a household full of pets and teenagers to actually pin the older man down to relinquish some of those details. It wasn't like him to pry either, simply ask, hope for an answer and if it was not a comfortable subject, he let the matter drop immediately. Sometimes he managed to get the most information when they were just talking, chatting like what seemed like normal people did.

Generally they were people of action, letting their motions speak louder than any words that they spoke. Here in the noisy pub, it almost seemed as if they had a small corner of privacy, away from what he considered prying ears and eyes.

And sipping on his half-pint of beer, he could just nurse it through the night. It wasn't as if they had anywhere to be, and he wasn't lead to have any concerns about the goings on elsewhere either. Rumlow had his rapt attention, and that wasn't yet likely to change even if the pub became rowdy.]

One would think they would try to encourage your learning potential to steer you away from too much rough housing. Did you get in trouble a lot with your parents? I know you said they were kind of absent?

[The corner of his lips tugged at the idea of his commander as a rock star. He couldn't see it personally, but it was hard to consider all the angles as well.]

Do you regret what you've become?

[Sinking back into the seat a little, Rumlow reached for his own beer, lifting it to his lips and taking a slug. He let it sit in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed. Shaking his head, he set the beer back down on the table. His tail was curved towards Bucky, the tip flicking absently against the Soldier's thigh.]

Nah. Public school system was pretty fucked around then, it was too much effort to reel in a rebellious kid like me, I guess. [At least, that was the feeling he had gotten, way back then.] Parents were... [Rumlow frowned.] Mamma was all right at first, but shit started to go downhill when I got older.

[His gaze distanced, remembering. It wasn't pleasant, when his mother went from simply strict to abusive. Using the good old fashioned Catholic guilt trip to punish him, when the belt wasn't enough. Worse was when he'd be sat in the pastor's office and given lectures about it.]

As far's me regretting what I've become? Hell no.

[The hardships had been numerous, but as much as his loyalty to HYDRA was shattered, all that they taught him was still considered invaluable. Rumlow didn't live a life of regrets. He moved past them.]

[Bucky couldn't remember his schooling, but he assumed that there had been an edge of harshness to it. Of course, most of his recalled experiences before he died had an edge of that, so it might have just been what he knew sliding back to taint everything that had happened to him. He figured that there was nothing much to tell about him, and it would have been inconvenient to ask Natalia if he could borrow her book on him just to have something to speak on from his end.]

HYDRA managed to reel that kid in, or was it someone else? [Clearly Rumlow had gotten away for many years being that rebellious child, probably pushing the boundaries of most people's tolerance.] Why did she go downhill?

[It pleased him that his commander had no regrets, that everything in life had been lived in a way that Rumlow wanted it. There was something to be said about that, and it caused him to respect Rumlow even more, if that was even possible. He slid his foot up and down Rumlow's calf in reply, picking at their nachos with his fingers.]

Good, you shouldn't ever regret. Sometimes I wonder if I would.

[Rumlow's tail slithered closer to Bucky, not really sure what it was doing, but he usually just let it do its own thing. He organized the newest barrage of questions, sorting them into a more fluid way to answer. His leg shifted closer to Bucky and the gentle stroke of his foot.]

Sort of. I'd already started to discipline myself when I left school, and my parents. HYDRA just refined it, gave me a direction.

[They'd perfected what he had been growing into. Stripped him of his childish limitations and gave him the know-how to accomplish just about any task they set before him. How he had blossomed under their tutelage and quickly climbed the ranks.]

What would you regret?

[There was a great many things Rumlow imagined Bucky could regret. Especially since he was still under the impression that he had joined HYDRA on his own. That definitely could qualify as one, even if it meant they would have never met, were the circumstances true.]

[He reached down with his flesh hand to catch and stroke Rumlow's tail, always pleased with its antics. It sometimes just seemed to have a mind of its own beyond anything that Rumlow happened to be doing at the time, and he found it soft and warm to touch, even if he knew it still had deadly barbs hidden inside.]

Did you graduate or drop-out? When did you get recruited to HYDRA?

[This was all aspects of Rumlow's life that he knew had to exist, but it seemed that few people actually knew the tale. He suspected that Rumlow trusted very few with it, given that it probably wasn't all that pleasant to recall in the first place. The fact that his commander would do so for him and be honest about the answers endeared him even more towards Rumlow.]

I don't know. Maybe losing all my memories. They suddenly seem like a part of me that I need because I can't share with you what you share with me.

Dropped out, but I got a GED. Wasn't about to let some fucks tell me I wasn't worth shit because I didn't have a diploma.

[Rumlow's tail wrapped around Bucky's hand as he held it. A common enough occurrence, but Rumlow liked it. The very tip flicked against Bucky's fingers.]

But yeah, I was in my late teens when they found me.

[Rumlow glanced up at Bucky, studying his face. It had to be hard, he knew, not knowing so much about himself. Rumlow always thought it would be blissful, not recalling the torture that had molded Bucky into the Winter Soldier. Now that they were close, he wasn't so sure.

He wanted Bucky loyal, wanted him to feel the attachment they shared, being part of HYDRA (even if Rumlow wasn't truly, anymore). But if he remembered who he had been -- would he still feel the same? Would he still want him, knowing he was part of an organization that had stripped him of his identity?]

Just because you don't remember -- I don't hold it against you, Bucky.

[Bucky had to laugh at Rumlow's eloquent reply, enjoying the crudeness of it. His hand twisted around the tail, stroking its softness with his fingers and watching his commander fondly. It sure was something else to see Rumlow being crude and recalling unpleasant details but still letting nothing deter the man from what he had wanted.]

How does HYDRA recruit young people? I mean, it can't just be a sign on the dotted line kind of thing, right? They have to have assurances that you're the right fit to a degree.

[He met Rumlow's look, lifting an eyebrow even as he stuck a chip in his mouth and chewed. Sometimes he wanted to ask what Rumlow knew of him, knew of how he had come to be like this. He was certain there were dossiers about it, a little introduction to what he was, how to handle him, and how to recall him on missions. There had to be something in there, but so far, he had been unable to bring himself to ask. Maybe he knew Rumlow would be truthful but reluctant. Maybe he wasn't comfortable with the answers.]

I know you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be in this relationship with me. I mean, there would be no point after all, since I was under your command regardless. You could have carried on and still been able to deploy me, but you didn't... you took a risk and came to like me as I am now.

Probably different for every person. They caught me in the middle of a deal between my gang and another, played like they were cops, busting it up. Took me in and told me they saw potential. Sure as fuck threw me for a loop, thinking this was still a cop. Once they revealed themselves, that was when they offered.

[Not that he knew at the time that he would have been eating a bullet if he'd declined. Couldn't let just anyone know about HYDRA. Rumlow reached for his glass again and emptied it. Toying with it, he chewed his cheek in remembrance. God it had been so long ago. Thirty years? Jesus.]

And yeah well. You charmed me, what can I say?

[Showed him how he could have someone who understood without speaking. Was loyal when he had none. Was patient and understanding, despite neither understanding his own emotions or even having the wherewithal to deal with them. Rumlow knew, there had to be something innate in Bucky Barnes. Something inside him that no matter how much wiping, programming and brainwashing was done, that his fundamental being was to accept someone who was damaged.]

[He listened to the tale of Rumlow's induction into the ranks of HYDRA and could read behind the lines. He knew enough about HYDRA policy to understand that once the offer was made, refusal was not part of the package deal. It was a life obligation to be part and parcel of the organization, and he was certain that everyone in it had made extensive sacrifices at some point in their lives.

He also suspected that HYDRA had been watching Rumlow for many weeks or months before the sting. They were so organized and careful after all, but he was pleased that they had come to a good conclusion about Rumlow. How else would they have come to meet one another and start all of this?]

And the rest is nothing more than history, is it? You served and still serve.

[Charmed him? Bucky snorted as he took a sip of beer and let it sit on his tongue for a few seconds before he swallowed it. Stronger than normal beer and maybe that was why he was taking his time as he was. Still, the idea that he was charming Rumlow when before coming here, they had probably only served a handful of missions together and he could remember exactly zero of them too. Hell had changed a lot of the rules of the game, and Rumlow had probably been one of the few adaptable men to be able to cope with keeping him in line.

But charmed? Ha, what a novel idea.] Do you think I can continue to charm you? I mean, we have eternity and all.

[Rumlow went quiet. He knew it was obvious. Knew Bucky was hardly too stupid to catch on. Yet, he just sat there, staring at his glass. 'Still serve.' The words sat in his mouth, uncomfortable. Burning. He knew he would have to spit them out someday. Knew he couldn't lie forever. Shouldn't, considering what they had now. Guilt wasn't something Rumlow felt much. Probably didn't feel it here either, but it didn't sit right leaving it unsaid.

His lips pressed together. He knew he was gonna say it. Had to. Even if he knew it might ruin their night. Rumlow's gaze flicked up once more, meeting Bucky's with an almost hesitant expression. This wasn't going to be easy.]

Served.

[He said. It was simple, but he was sure Bucky would get his point quickly.]

You know how I died, Bucky?

[Bucky was in the process of picking through the chips to find one that looked particularly inviting, his other hand still stroking and twisting in Rumlow's tail when the word hit him. He froze where he sat, the feel of his commander's thigh pressed to his own, a welcome heat to the sudden drop of temperature throughout his body. He rallied mentally quickly, but he still took his time wiping his fingers on the napkin and slowly turning to face Rumlow sitting next to him.

He looked at Rumlow's face, studying his commander's expression for a long moment, even if he knew there was a question hanging in the air between them. A part of him was not shocked to hear this while the part of him that was deeply loyal to HYDRA was scandalized by the sheer notion that a lifer like Rumlow was giving it all up. Mixed feelings were difficult for him to pick apart because they tended to bleed together, and he sometimes couldn't tell what was programming and what was his own emotions on the matter.]

You... had the Triskelion collapse on you. It's a miracle you survived as long as you did in the rubble, right?

Yeah. And another miracle when I sat in that hospital for a week. Third degree burns over most've my body. Broken ribs, bones. They managed to staunch the internal bleeding but I guess something in me wasn't gonna hold out.

[Rumlow's voice stayed low, but there was a certain light in his eyes. He knew Bucky was shocked, knew this had rocked him to his core. Hell, he knew it was gonna fuck with his programming, but there was no turning back now. He had to explain why his loyalty to HYDRA had ended.]

A whole week. I had to deny the morphine. Didn't want to get questioned under the influence. Told myself over and over that I could endure the pain. And I did. For HYDRA. But they never came.

[While it was true that most of their infrastructure had been irreparably damaged by Rogers and Romanova, there were still plenty of agents with information that had been compartmentalized, safe from Romanova's prying eyes. They could have retrieved him. He was a valuable agent, with even more valuable intel. He would have helped rebuild. Instead, he went ignored. Rumlow couldn't, and wouldn't forget that.]

[The Soldier was, perhaps, reminded in that moment that his own death had been swift. The crushing of his rib cage had left little choice for him; without the ability to breathe or have his heart beat, he was dead and nothing more could be done. Nothing could save him. He sort of understood that Rumlow had suffered in a hospital bed; there had been brief comments here and there about the matter, but it had never been something that either of them tended to bring up seriously.

He remained quiet and internalized even if he was still watching Rumlow carefully, giving his commander his piece right now and pondering why there was a throb to his temples. Like part of his world had just collapsed under a weight he had not expected. Like the foundation had been poor and rotten and now he had to try to hold it up on his own.

The problem was that Rumlow was his foundation right now. In Rumlow, there was strength because HYDRA had forced them both into a mold that was necessary for existence. Rumlow was one of the only men that he had met who understood what it was like to be pulled out from the inside, manually reprogrammed and have everything stuffed back in. Rumlow understood how the mission was everything, that it could fill the screaming emptiness that forced him to ask questions about himself, about why things were not as they seemed. Rumlow was a product of a similar machine as he was.

His jaw worked unconsciously like he was grinding his teeth even if it was silent. His eyes dropped from Rumlow's face to stare somewhere at his commander's chest but his gaze was far away.

The reasoning was sound, but a treacherous part of him thought that all Rumlow needed was to be twisted back up in the HYDRA programming again. It almost felt as if Rumlow leaving the ranks out of the man's own volition for whatever the reason was somehow also abandoning him to the programming that still held him captive. So strong was his commander that Rumlow had suffered enough to deny what they had both served so long under, and yet here he was... sitting at a table, pretending he could be normal and realizing in a single moment that he was completely and utterly alone with the propaganda that filled his head, of the programming which he couldn't escape, of the words that he instinctively knew existed but could never actually recall.

He had to come up with something though, didn't he? He understood that Rumlow would be watching, waiting for his reaction, judging how he coped with this new information even if maybe it wasn't quite so new. Just in the light where he could see it in all of its entirety. His mouth felt dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he managed to pry it loose, managed to flick his gaze to meet Rumlow's eyes.]

So... you've renounced your pledge...?

[The wheels were turning in Bucky's head, Rumlow knew. Remembered how it felt, his whole world crumbling beneath him. It hadn't been the first time, and Rumlow doubted it would be the last. He felt bad, he realized, seeing Bucky like this. Didn't like pulling the rug out from under him, but it was better now than later, when things got more serious.

He waited, trying not to let dread get under his skin. Bucky cared about him, Rumlow was sure, but -- was it enough to override programming? The Winter Soldier's loyalty to HYDRA was paramount, and yet with how long they had been together, Rumlow hoped he'd broken down just enough that this wouldn't somehow mark the end.

Rumlow would have to choose his words carefully, if he wanted to make this work.]

To be honest? Felt like the other way around. Like I was abandoned. Alone.

[He had filled the void with what he could, refused to dwell on any emotions that threatened to escape. Compartmentalized the loss and dealt with it in the only way he knew how. Building back up.]

And then there was you.

[HYDRA didn't abandon those who had the strength to believe, he thought. It wasn't his thought though, but it no less swam up from the depths of his consciousness. HYDRA was an ideal, a principle that could not fail so long as there was one person to believe in it. It transcended race, gender, social class, economic status, language even. Those that hadn't the strength to believe were eliminated in some way, or they were kept on, forced to be shattered and rebuilt in a way that allowed their belief to return again.

The Winter Soldier thought only: I should kill him.

He was an absolute, the most loyal, the most hard-core, the most extreme of the elements that HYDRA had in place. They had seventy years to perfect him, and even now, the programming hooked into his mind, rattled down his options to complete and utter simplicity: kill or don't.

Yet, a part of him that had developed from the severity of his programming couldn't lift a hand against his commander. A part of him that was Bucky Barnes at heart, loyal to those who loved and cared for him still existed, had always been fighting. Hell had, to a degree, been good for him, had given him a freedom that had previously not existed and part of that had been Rumlow.

He continued to stare, his expression a void of emotion. Emotion lead to mistakes and mistakes lead to mission failure. Yet, he hurt so badly, like when his chest had been caved in on the helicarrier, like how the horrified expression on Steve's face had reached through his last suffering breaths to hit him harder than the damage to his body. He opened his mouth to say something, to reply to the words and only a squeak of a sound came out.

He snapped his mouth shut and reached for his beer, taking a drag from it and having to literally struggle to force it down. It tasted like ash. He thought he might be sick as he fought his own internal war.]

Y-your weapon.

[Rumlow knew that look. Remembered it when he had seen the Soldier get strapped to a chair, his memories about to be forcibly stripped from him. At the time, it had been fascinating, even if it was grotesque. Dehumanizing in a way even he hadn't experienced. Yet, once he had accepted it as part of the way things were, it never bothered him again.

Until he met him once more. Dead and in Hell.

Things had changed so much since then. What had began as part of a greater machination in revenge had shifted into something wholly different. Something Rumlow never would have predicted or even planned for. It was so far beyond his control, the longer he considered it, the more it worried him. Most of the time it was easy, just shove it into the box with the rest of those troubling emotions and focus on what was good. Focus on his next step.

But now. Rumlow looked at him. Saw him as more than the fist of HYDRA. More than just the weapon they had turned him into. His brows furrowed to see Bucky under such distress. He shifted closer, hoping he wasn't going to get a metal punch to his face.]

My Bucky.

[His voice was soft, but it didn't waver. Their eyes were locked, his own expression clearly showing the depths of emotion he had sunk to, a sharp contrast to Bucky's own. God, he hoped that he hadn't fucked up, fighting off the encroaching fear of failure.]

[The conflict grew to a hideous swell like waves battering against the rocky shoals, but the rocks were coming apart, his foundation was falling into the waves that ate them up greedily, triumphantly.The rest would give way, but he would fight because he had to, because without the foundation that had been so deeply buried inside of him, what was he? What would he become?

Nothing. He had no memories. He couldn't build himself from what was the past because it no longer existed for him. HYDRA had put so much inside of him, had built him up from scratch, destroyed him many times just to build up again and again. There was nothing left behind but the Soldier. There were no memories to fill the void that was opening up as his programming warred against the idea that not being part of HYDRA was possible.

He swayed where he sat, frozen in this internalized moment that was still unfolding even as Rumlow slid closer, and his metal fist did indeed clench but around his beer glass, shattering it and washing the amber liquid across the table and against his lap. He barely felt it, but he did release the glass shards to the table.

Rumlow's punctuated words blasted through his brain, rattling around, settling in place and then flitting off again. His mouth opened, hung there for a few moments and then closed again because his brain had jammed. He didn't wince, but he experienced pain at the upheaval that was happening inside of his head, but Rumlow's words were a warm coating to the shattering pieces of his world.]

You're... leaving me to this... Hell, aren't you? The Fist of HYDRA must have a handler...

Edited 2017-01-10 03:46 (UTC)

What? No! Bucky, I'm not leaving you. I'd never fucking leave you. Never.

[Alarms were going off in his head. Blaring, blazing, screaming at him to abort. But what was there to do? The damage was done. Now all he could do was pick up the pieces. Literal and figurative, judging by the shards of glass in Bucky's metal palm. At least they wouldn't cut him, he thought, though they could easily be used as a weapon against him.

Rumlow's expression shifted into something he rarely, if never wore. Pleading. He had just told him he had felt abandoned and now he was running the risk of it again. This was why, a voice told him. No attachments. Rumlow felt the bile rising in his throat, a fear response spiking his adrenaline and just like clockwork, that deep, unavoidable horror at having failed began to rear its ugly head.

No, he could still fix this. There was still something he could do. He had to.]

Bucky please. You're dead, we're both dead. There is no HYDRA. Not here. Just us.

[His metal hand opened, letting shattered glass dance on the table, and aside from a few demons looking over to investigate the sound, no one cared much for the drama unfolding in their small corner of the loud room. He could certainly use one as a weapon, could quite easily have one in hand and slashing at Rumlow's throat before the man might teleport away from him. He could stab him over and over, try to force the programming back inside of him, but he knew it was futile.

Rumlow had broken free. His commander was stepping away from the mold that had made them both, had the strength of character and somehow had been undermining that programming that he knew must be there to keep Rumlow in check. All this time in Hell, Rumlow had been hating HYDRA for abandonment, had been tugging him along on the road that he thought was the one that he was expected to follow because Rumlow was his commander, was in control of the ideals that they had to serve. All this time, and Rumlow had been pulling free of it all.

His commander's words struck him almost like knife strokes, opening him up. It was blasphemous. There was always HYDRA, he thought, even if he struggled against the idea. HYDRA was in his head, was stamped into his bones, but he was dead and couldn't hope to function at the level in which he had been made.

And Rumlow had Kenzi, Chase to a degree, was safely and clearly functional without HYDRA. Rumlow could continue on with Chimera, but certainly wasn't beholden to it. He had programming and no memories.

Maybe he really did deserve to be in Hell.]

All those plans... everything we talked about regarding Brimstone. The recruitment speeches, the weapon gathering, the finding appropriate allies to help us... was that all a lie? Was everything I tried to do for you for an ideal you already abandoned and only now am telling me? HYDRA is...

[What? HYDRA is what? His brain seemed to jam, unable to piece together the words to finish the sentence even for himself. Seventy years. Was this what it felt like to have his programming come apart?]

Bucky, I have never lied to you. Not once. The plans are still there. Just because I don't have HYDRA doesn't mean I don't have ambition. I want to do better than HYDRA.

[Bucky didn't know how much they had failed, Rumlow thought. Didn't know how badly Romanova had damaged things. How Pierce was dead, along with them. How Rogers had triumphed, even if he too died, later down the line.

Rumlow shook his head, hesitant to reach for Bucky, trying not to let the fear that was attempting to consume him win. He swallowed hard, gathering up his resolve. HYDRA didn't own him here. They never would. Never again. He didn't need to let them punish him for what he had done.]

I can't do that without you.

[He said it without even thinking. It just sort of. Came out. A thought, bursting out into word without going through any of the red tape. And it was true. Objectively, he probably would be able to, but Rumlow, for all that he tried, wasn't ever fully objective. He was too involved now. Too twisted up and engaged. Too attached. He didn't want to do it without Bucky, and so he simply couldn't.]

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