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

[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.]

[Was there a better? What was beyond HYDRA because HYDRA was constantly changing, constantly improving, constantly morphing into what the world needed most? Wasn't that how it worked? Wasn't that why the organization had dug so deep, put so much into him and their agents on the ground? It never was static because the world was never one single thing, but a mosaic of destruction, selfishness and greed. That's why they had sacrificed so much, to force the world to a point of willingly offering up its freedom so that it could finally be secure, could finally have order.

The claws of his programming bit in, always resistant to treacherous thoughts that might lead him away from the purpose he had been created for. It hurt to resist, but he did anyway because the pain was clouding his mind as it was and only the brief bursts of Rumlow's words managed to penetrate, gave him something to latch onto even if it was brief. It hurt, and the more that it did, the more he wanted more pain because it was so familiar.

He stared at Rumlow, his metal fingers twitching on the table now that his fist had opened again.]

I'm not... as strong as you are. [It was whispered loud enough that he knew Rumlow could hear over the loudness of the pub.] I can't... walk away. I'm nothing without what HYDRA put in my head... and you control it. You broke free, but I can't go. Do you understand? [He tapped his temple with a finger, looking lost, feeling torn open.]

It's in my head. Words. Orders. You have a life; you have memories; you could be something more, but I can't. You're free; HYDRA never abandoned you.

[He picked up a glass shard between his metal fingers, turning it over without even thinking about it.]

You outgrew HYDRA....

[Shaking his head, Rumlow took the risk. He made the reach, his fingers wrapping around Bucky's arm, the metal cool beneath his palm. No, he thought. He wasn't free. Not if Bucky was going to stay behind. He couldn't -- wouldn't let that happen. He didn't care if Bucky was going to slit his throat with that piece of glass. It wouldn't accomplish anything. He would just come back. Again and again. To be right here.]

You're a whole lot fucking stronger than you give yourself credit for, Bucky.

[His voice was quiet too, this moment was between them, after all. Even if they were amongst others, it felt as if all of Hell had narrowed down to just the two of them. The ambient noise of the bar had faded into the background, unimportant. Rumlow slid closer, heart thudding in his chest.]

Look how far you've come. How many orders have you been given lately? You exist outside of HYDRA now, Bucky. You exist with me.

[Rumlow came in, knees touching, his other hand gently pressing against Bucky's shoulder to turn him. Face him. His face felt tight, more than usual, jaw clenching to keep himself still in check. Fighting against his own instincts.]

You can walk away. Been trying to help. Didn't want this to happen, to scare you, it's just. I don't wanna lie. Just wanna be with you.

[There was no rebellion from him as Rumlow's hand settled on his wrist, perhaps assessing the danger that a class shard could create while in his possession. He didn't relinquish it from his grip, but he neither moved to put it to use as a weapon either. No, he simply turned it in his fingers, giving something repetitive to do with himself. It was an attempt at a calm gesture, to settle down the swirl of emotions and thoughts that waged their continued war in his head. Over and over it turned, catching the light of the room to reflect back at where they sat.

With Rumlow pressing closer, the resistance to remain at a distance decreased as well. He had no idea what else to do with himself, the sheer idea that Rumlow had outgrown HYDRA, had left it behind was still rattling around in his head, disturbing the attempt at happiness that they had so far managed to cultivate together. Things had been rough before; a part of him knew that it would be rough again eventually. Right now, it just felt as if the rug had been pulled right out from under his feet, and the only person who was going to keep him from falling away completely was the same person that had started this cascade in the first place.]

But it's in my head. I can feel it, and I can't get rid of it. There's nothing in there but what HYDRA put inside of me, is there? Bucky Barnes is gone or whatever he was is so buried he may as well be dead.

[Slowly, he leaned his head forward, bringing it to rest against Rumlow's temple where he could close his eyes, and he could do little more than force himself to breathe. He didn't need to being dead, but it was yet another repetitive motion that gave him the attempt to find calm.]

Why does the truth always hurt so much? Shouldn't it be good and just? Isn't that what we're fighting for? Order. Truth. A end to the fighting....

[The moment was heavy. Tenuous. Rumlow wasn't sure which way it would go, but as Bucky spoke, he listened. He understood. He did. There were so many things he could say, reassurances that he could speak. He had never expected it to go like this. Resistance, sure. Shock, yes. This was almost more than he thought he could handle, but just when the worry began to pitch once more, Bucky moved.

He shifted in, pressed it against Rumlow's own and the relief was palpable. He shuddered and sighed, hand moving away from Bucky's wrist to cup his face, pushing into his hair. The lump in his throat refused to move, but Rumlow tried to swallow it anyway.]

You can be whoever you want, Bucky. You don't have to be the asset, don't have to be Bucky Barnes. Just. [He felt himself tensing, still clinging to the protocols that kept him in check.] It fucking sucks, I know. It's an uphill battle that never ends. I still believe in that, I just. I want to start something that doesn't reduce us to this.

[This fragile, broken thing that can be shattered with just the right words. The right action. He wasn't having it. Rumlow wanted stronger bonds. Tighter, something that kept them together that was more than just a cause.]

And I don't want to lose you.

[There was a shift in the air around Rumlow, but it didn't entirely wash over him. He was still reeling after all, still feeling the effects of trying to cope with the idea that Rumlow had left HYDRA, had outgrown what had come from that organization. He fought against the idea that Rumlow was going to leave him behind, leaving him with the programming that couldn't entirely dictate what he was supposed to do with himself. Like his commander, the fear of being abandoned to that fate was almost unthinkable and yet still seemed highly possible.

There was a part of him that believed Rumlow to know, but also a part of him that knew that his programming was much, much deeper and laid on thickly. Rumlow had to be functional, had to live, breathe, eat that life, to always be a double agent where his path was all about control, about doing what he was told and while he had moved away from it, their would always be a part of him currently looking for an order. He hadn't been away from HYDRA long enough to fight back, to be torn apart again and put back together.]

You mean, you think I should make up a past that I can live by because I can't remember the one that I had? [It might not be the suggestion, but it was almost a validating one anyway. He could be whoever he want even if he had to still live in the shadow of knowing that any other handler who had died could come and find him. With a selection of words, he could be little more than the Fist again.] Will you... help me to break down the programming then? Help me to remember?

[Because this was so fragile. A moment of happiness dashed with a single word, a change in tense that should have meant to little. Instead, it had rocked his world, had thrown him into a tail-spin that had undermined some of the strength that he thought they had had together. United in purpose. United together.

He pulled the shard of glass he was holding closer, turning it so that he could watch the light of the room reflect off of it. Why did it all still hurt, like the air had been sucked right out of his lungs? He should be righting himself, setting back on his feet, adapting.]

If I... become something, someone, do you think you'll lose me?

If that makes you happy, yes. But I don't need your past to care about you like I do. [Rumlow's fingers swept through Bucky's hair once more, grazing across his scalp.] Your programming is... difficult. I've been doing what I can. I don't know much more than that, but if it's what you want.

[And there it was. Throwing away his chance to ever truly control Bucky. The failsafe would always be there. Rumlow would know the words. He didn't think he'd have to use them, but faced with the idea now? He'd rather eat a bullet. Whether that was out of his growing affection for Bucky or his steadfast loyalty to the plan he had emplaced so long ago, Rumlow really didn't know. He didn't want to, either. Best to just let it lie.]

For as far as we've come, Bucky... I don't think anything short of us losing our minds would do that. I just. I don't want you to leave me because I've stepped away from HYDRA. I trust you, but the fear is there. It will always be there, ingrained in me, by them. You understand that better than anyone.

[Rumlow only hoped that it wouldn't come to that. That Bucky could accept the challenge and fight against his bonds like he had been. Rumlow would be there every step of the way, as he had been. He tipped his head up, nose nuzzling against Bucky's face until his lips found his temple. He kissed him, letting the touch linger. God, he hoped.]

[Rumlow might not need his past to care about him, but Bucky felt as if he did. How was he to accept the choices that he made and understand the person he had become if he couldn't recall everything that had made that possible? The pieces that he had now didn't even make up a single picture, and it was frustrating even if he made certain not to let it show. He thought it would be better for them both to understand where he had come from, the deeds that he had done for HYDRA and maybe even understand some of the unanswered whys for what had happened to him. Maybe, just maybe, it would allow them to build something that wasn't based on being part of HYDRA but honest to God experiences.]

If... you're leaving HYDRA, everything needs to go. All the programming, all the molding that they did to you. Keep what makes you you, but otherwise, the rest has to go. [And maybe it was unspoken that if he was going to have to follow along in Rumlow's wake that the same would apply to him as well. That Rumlow contemplated control of him never entered his mind; he was too raw.]

I suspect you would leave me behind in leaving HYDRA. Until I can remember things, HYDRA is my basis of operation. Their rules, their needs, their programming. [He could understand the fear; he was still living it right as they spoke because the idea of Rumlow walking away from all of that was jarring to every sense of the man that he had. Somehow it felt as if his world was on its head and wasn't likely to correct itself any time soon until he could think and compartmentalize.

He bowed his head slightly, feeling the brush of Rumlow's lips on his skin, the warmth of it spreading from the cold of his previously dropped body temperature. Being upset seemed to have that effect on him. He looked at the glass shard in his hand and then set it back on the table with the others, abandoning it there as he closed his eyes and forced himself to both breathe and lean against the lips against his temple.

Time. They had plenty of that. It's what he needed now.]

We'll... make this work.

[A tall order and one Rumlow suspected was impossible. It took regular soldiers years to deprogram from what the military ingrained in them, he couldn't imagine how long it would take to change someone like him. Bucky said he could keep what was him, but where was that line? What part of Rumlow was HYDRA and what part wasn't? He didn't know. He'd lived too long within its confines to really understand the difference.

He knew what Bucky was trying to accomplish, but Rumlow didn't think it wise. Not only was the training HYDRA gave him important, it was useful, here in Hell. Imperative, if he wanted to build his own organization. The attachment to HYDRA itself, that he could lose, but beyond that, Rumlow didn't want to let go.

Rumlow planted another kiss onto Bucky's temple, both arms wrapped around him now, as if he could keep him safe, keep him grounded. Even if he had been the one to un-tether him in the first place, the last thing Rumlow wanted was for Bucky to be lost in his purpose. They would have to redefine parameters, hoping that would work still.]

I'm not sure there's a lot of me that isn't HYDRA at this point, Bucky. They had me for so many years. I was still a kid when I was brought into the fold.

[Rumlow shut his eyes, staring at the backs of his eyelids.]

But if you're talkin' about breaking the programming that makes it hard for me to tell you how I feel when I wake up and find you there, how goddamn happy you make me, in spite of everything -- that you make me forget ever fucking suffering in my life. Then yeah. I could stand to lose that.

[There was a slight smile about his lips, a fond thought passing through an otherwise tumultuous moment.]

We will make it work. I'd never expect anything to happen overnight, Bucky. I got a lotta patience when it comes to you, котенок.

[Maybe it was desperation on his part to say that, to think for a moment that HYDRA and the person they had sank their hooks into could shed that identity like a skin. Maybe that's all that he wanted right now, given that it still felt as if the idea of Rumlow leaving HYDRA behind created some insurmountable mountain where he could not follow, where he was stuck waiting in the programming that felt like it might forever hold him. Was this going to be the moment where he fought back against it though?

It was back to reality with Rumlow's logical point, that HYDRA was everywhere, that it would always hold part of them forever. Maybe it was like a second family, one that took all the frustration at the world and gave it a safe place to be put to a more useful form. Of course HYDRA had taught them all useful skills, had put forward a platform where Rumlow could excel. It wasn't likely any of those skills should be lost, and a clean break might never be possible.

It still felt like some kind of betrayal to even be talking about this, talking about leaving, breaking things down. A shiver ran the length of him as if he were waiting for the ruse to end, Rumlow to laugh and then send him for a good and thorough wiping. Testing his loyalties. HYDRA did that. He felt like a failure, and that was always unacceptable, which made everything about this painful.

He still settled in Rumlow's grip, dropped his flesh hand to the other man's thigh and gave it a pat and a squeeze. What else could he do? If he closed his eyes too long, the blackness seemed like it might swallow him whole. Certainly his body felt cold and even if the temperature around him was starting to return to normal again, he knew something had just broken.]

I know. [And he did. Experience made them, and HYDRA had been a massive part of Rumlow's life. It always would be.] Is it the programming that makes it difficult, or the fact you've never had to open yourself up to someone else before like you do with me?

[The words, their implications, did move him. It hurt. Sometimes he found being pleased and happy and all those positive emotions came with as much pain as the negative ones.]

You've been sitting on this since you arrived months ago. Why did you wait so long to tell me?

[Things were better, but they still weren't great. Rumlow knew that. Could tell that Bucky was still lost in the revelation. How could he blame him though? It was probably a natural reaction to try and reject everything, to start from scratch rather than pick up the pieces from the shattered illusion. Rumlow wasn't sure, this was unfamiliar territory.

He huffed to think that was a lot of what he dealt with when Bucky was involved. The biggest contributor to how differently he viewed his world, now. Rumlow stroked over his back, gathering into his hair and just touched him, held him, kept him near. The physical representation, he thought, of how he just wanted to support him.]

Both, I'd say. [A small, quiet laugh escaped him.] Ain't exactly ever been the most emotional guy.

[Rumlow rest his forehead against Bucky's shoulder, taking in a slow, shuddering breath. So many feelings were still bottled up inside him, trying to escape and fighting against the cage he kept them in -- the fear of showing this vulnerability in such a setting keeping him from letting it all out. He would speak, in quiet tones, but he couldn't let himself come apart like he knew he might, if they were alone.

Even now, in a moment as serious as this, HYDRA's training kept him in check.]

I... I thought you'd leave. [His arms wrapped tighter around him.] Guess I was afraid. It would mean I failed. Even now, I feel like I might have. Only thing that's keeping me from freaking the fuck out's you. Guess there ain't no protocol when you love someone.

[Rumlow was stoic, he would say. The man could also manipulate demons out of their clothing if he was on his game, and Rumlow also knew how to read any situation and somehow manage to find the best outcome available. That wasn't all HYDRA, though he had no doubt that it had been refined by the people within the ranks. However, given what he knew of Rumlow, the man was not overly emotional, could compartmentalize and hide in plain sight any emotion that the man happened to be feeling.

Yet, it felt as if they were both vulnerable right now, raw and exposed. It was not a comfortable sensation to experience. It felt as if a part of his world had come undone, and more than a few layers of skin had been peeled off to reveal the redness beneath. Maybe this was what being skinned alive felt like?

The physical contact grounded him, might have even been the only reason he didn't try to clean up glass shards and spilled beer on their table. The excuse to get up and move around never seemed to come with Rumlow's hand on him, offering him something that this situation couldn't. Sometimes their support of one another was purely physical and where Rumlow had never been an overtly emotional man, he was definitely one that employed touch. It felt lame that he sometimes couldn't employ either.

Yet, he still had a hand on Rumlow's thigh, assuring himself that they were together here in this corner, that the demons of Hell were all moving along their own lives without them, taking little to no notice.

And when he thought he might be grounded enough to make it through the rest of the night in the pub, Rumlow had to drop the second bombshell on him. He froze yet again when Rumlow openly confessed loving him, and he made a soft surprised choking sound in his throat.]

I can't breathe...!

[There was panic widening his eyes as he tightened his hand on Rumlow's thigh and the sheer idea that anyone could care enough to love him simply sent his bristling programming completely on the fritz. No one could love him; he was a weapon. He wasn't allowed to care. He clawed at his cheeks and then literally flipped their table over to leave himself enough room to shoot from where he was sitting next to Rumlow.]

Hey, what are you doin' over there knocking shit over?!

You can't... they'll kill you. They'll make me kill you... I can't kill you because... I lo...

[He shouldered passed the bartender stomping over to investigate, taking flight from the crowded pub, smashing open the door and crashing out into the street beyond. He fled, sprinting through crowds of mingling demons, his wings shredding the back of his shirt as he went as he swept anyone who stood in his way aside.

Love. Rumlow couldn't. They would take Rumlow away. If the emotions were that deep, they would steal Rumlow from him like they once did Natalia. He'd be scrubbed clean, forced to endure, made to break Rumlow down. No HYDRA and now love... he couldn't.

Bucky ducked down into an alley, pacing a few steps before he began to punch the wall, making sounds of a wounded animal through clenched teeth.]

They'll take him away. Take him away. They'll take him away!

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THE END?