[OK OK there's one more part/scene-ish thing after this one so 6e will be the very final thing as long as I keep my word count reasonable... and it's halfway written so maybe not another weeks-long gap in between]
Rumlow’s cell was on the other side of the hall, facing where Steve’s had been. It was the same room in reverse. Sam felt like he was on the wrong side of the bars.
Rumlow was sitting on the floor. His head shot up when Sam came in. His eyes widened and then he smiled, splitting his face, the smile Sam had seen on Steve. “Hey,” he said. “You figure out Rogers isn’t gonna give it to you like you’re used to these days?”
Sam snorted. “Natasha said you’d be predictable, but dude, come on.” This was going to be easier than Sam had expected. Rumlow, in person, wasn’t all that intimidating. And it wasn’t like the sight of him dragged any memories to the surface. That was the problem.
Rumlow sighed, like he’d told a harmless joke and it was rude of Sam not to at least chuckle. “I’ve spent some cold goddamn nights in here, Wilson. If it’s predictable to want a warm one, fine, guilty.”
“I’ll ask them to turn the heat up on my way out.” Sam folded his arms. There wasn’t a bench in this cell, on his side; or a cot on Rumlow’s side. “They didn’t run a security check on me,” he said. “Nobody searched me, nobody asked me to walk through a metal detector.”
Rumlow considered him a second before he said, “Placing these duties before personal desires… You don’t have a weapon.”
“I don’t need one. I just think it’s a pretty good bet that means they’re not watching the security feed, either.” Everything he’d been tamping down bubbled up, pressing low in his chest, enough to make him sick but not enough that he could let it loose. This, Rumlow like this—he wasn’t it. He wasn’t what had done this to Sam. Even if Sam could’ve killed him this way, while he was weak, he wasn’t the version Sam wanted gone.
“That others may fucking live,” Rumlow said, head back against the wall, eyes half-closed. “You’re not going to do anything to me like this.” He waved a twisted hand half-heartedly in the air.
“What we should do,” Sam said. “What we should do is let you go.”
Rumlow laughed, rolling his head down to meet Sam’s eyes properly. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll meet you for coffee, we’ll see where the afternoon takes us, how’s that?”
“Yeah. Just let you walk out the front door and see how far you get.”
It was hard to read Rumlow’s expression. The scars flattened all the details out. “Typical,” he said. “Typical good-guy B.S. You won’t get your hands dirty, but if HYDRA’ll do it for you, you’ll jump out of the way for them? Send Cap in here with that line and I’d even buy it.”
“I can do that,” Sam pointed out.
Rumlow heaved forward and wove back. Standing up was a process. He doubled over and when he straightened, one arm braced too hard and sudden against the wall, his eyes were wide. He said, “Sam?” incredulous and panicked.
Sam didn’t buy it, really, but there was that split second of doubt. Of wondering how he could ever be sure.
Rumlow dropped it. “I could make this harder,” he said. “Quit wasting my time.” His face pulled, teeth showing. “Hell, quit wasting yours. You’re back with him? How’s that going?”
The back of Sam’s mouth tasted bitter. He thought, for the first time, he really could hit Rumlow, even like this, weak and unrecognizable in a body Sam half-saw, still, as Steve’s. “You don’t ask me about him.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you, instead. I’ll tell you this: He’s a freak. Just like the asset. They’re goddamn monsters, I don’t care how much prettier they painted up that version. I didn’t do one thing to you he can’t, anytime he wants.” His eyes gleamed the way they had in the Triskelion, lit with the delight of spewing this shit. “You think I don’t get what a rush it is to pretend you can handle them? But you can’t, nobody can without the chair and an ice box. You were better off with me driving that thing. I showed you some hard truths, is all. I was honest. But him—he doesn’t even know enough to stop himself, and sooner or later—”
“That’s it?” Sam dropped his hands to his sides. “That’s what you’ve got?”
Rumlow’s smile stretched wider, less self-satisfied. “He’s a freak,” he repeated. “And you’re not. It was a miracle you ever made it work with him, and you’re lucky I fucked it up before he could.”
Rumlow, Sam thought, was pathetic. This whole thing was pathetic. He was a prisoner, on the run from his own people, dependent on S.H.I.E.L.D. to keep his skin together; he was seriously trying to convince Sam that he should, logically, be scared of Steve.
Rumlow was pathetic, and what did that make Sam?
It hadn’t even taken him a week to do this, and Sam was stuck with it. It wasn’t going to be over.
I can live with it. I’ve lived with worse. Sam shook his head. He’d wanted to know why Rumlow hadn’t run on his own, why he’d dragged Sam into it. He wasn’t going to get anything but more crazed rants. And he didn’t need them. He’d wanted Rumlow to say something else, to make it something else, but Sam could guess just fine. How pleased Rumlow had been when that woman said they looked in love, everything he’d asked Sam to say—that he trusted him, that they were happy. No big plan, no grand vengeance. And now Sam had to live with it for good.
“Sure,” he said. “Thanks for the favor. Enjoy the institutional dining, I hear it’s something else. I’m going home and see what Steve’s got on the stove, myself, so I guess we’re both back where we started.”
bodyswap trash fill 6d/6
Rumlow’s cell was on the other side of the hall, facing where Steve’s had been. It was the same room in reverse. Sam felt like he was on the wrong side of the bars.
Rumlow was sitting on the floor. His head shot up when Sam came in. His eyes widened and then he smiled, splitting his face, the smile Sam had seen on Steve. “Hey,” he said. “You figure out Rogers isn’t gonna give it to you like you’re used to these days?”
Sam snorted. “Natasha said you’d be predictable, but dude, come on.” This was going to be easier than Sam had expected. Rumlow, in person, wasn’t all that intimidating. And it wasn’t like the sight of him dragged any memories to the surface. That was the problem.
Rumlow sighed, like he’d told a harmless joke and it was rude of Sam not to at least chuckle. “I’ve spent some cold goddamn nights in here, Wilson. If it’s predictable to want a warm one, fine, guilty.”
“I’ll ask them to turn the heat up on my way out.” Sam folded his arms. There wasn’t a bench in this cell, on his side; or a cot on Rumlow’s side. “They didn’t run a security check on me,” he said. “Nobody searched me, nobody asked me to walk through a metal detector.”
Rumlow considered him a second before he said, “Placing these duties before personal desires… You don’t have a weapon.”
“I don’t need one. I just think it’s a pretty good bet that means they’re not watching the security feed, either.” Everything he’d been tamping down bubbled up, pressing low in his chest, enough to make him sick but not enough that he could let it loose. This, Rumlow like this—he wasn’t it. He wasn’t what had done this to Sam. Even if Sam could’ve killed him this way, while he was weak, he wasn’t the version Sam wanted gone.
“That others may fucking live,” Rumlow said, head back against the wall, eyes half-closed. “You’re not going to do anything to me like this.” He waved a twisted hand half-heartedly in the air.
“What we should do,” Sam said. “What we should do is let you go.”
Rumlow laughed, rolling his head down to meet Sam’s eyes properly. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’ll meet you for coffee, we’ll see where the afternoon takes us, how’s that?”
“Yeah. Just let you walk out the front door and see how far you get.”
It was hard to read Rumlow’s expression. The scars flattened all the details out. “Typical,” he said. “Typical good-guy B.S. You won’t get your hands dirty, but if HYDRA’ll do it for you, you’ll jump out of the way for them? Send Cap in here with that line and I’d even buy it.”
“I can do that,” Sam pointed out.
Rumlow heaved forward and wove back. Standing up was a process. He doubled over and when he straightened, one arm braced too hard and sudden against the wall, his eyes were wide. He said, “Sam?” incredulous and panicked.
Sam didn’t buy it, really, but there was that split second of doubt. Of wondering how he could ever be sure.
Rumlow dropped it. “I could make this harder,” he said. “Quit wasting my time.” His face pulled, teeth showing. “Hell, quit wasting yours. You’re back with him? How’s that going?”
The back of Sam’s mouth tasted bitter. He thought, for the first time, he really could hit Rumlow, even like this, weak and unrecognizable in a body Sam half-saw, still, as Steve’s. “You don’t ask me about him.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you, instead. I’ll tell you this: He’s a freak. Just like the asset. They’re goddamn monsters, I don’t care how much prettier they painted up that version. I didn’t do one thing to you he can’t, anytime he wants.” His eyes gleamed the way they had in the Triskelion, lit with the delight of spewing this shit. “You think I don’t get what a rush it is to pretend you can handle them? But you can’t, nobody can without the chair and an ice box. You were better off with me driving that thing. I showed you some hard truths, is all. I was honest. But him—he doesn’t even know enough to stop himself, and sooner or later—”
“That’s it?” Sam dropped his hands to his sides. “That’s what you’ve got?”
Rumlow’s smile stretched wider, less self-satisfied. “He’s a freak,” he repeated. “And you’re not. It was a miracle you ever made it work with him, and you’re lucky I fucked it up before he could.”
Rumlow, Sam thought, was pathetic. This whole thing was pathetic. He was a prisoner, on the run from his own people, dependent on S.H.I.E.L.D. to keep his skin together; he was seriously trying to convince Sam that he should, logically, be scared of Steve.
Rumlow was pathetic, and what did that make Sam?
It hadn’t even taken him a week to do this, and Sam was stuck with it. It wasn’t going to be over.
I can live with it. I’ve lived with worse. Sam shook his head. He’d wanted to know why Rumlow hadn’t run on his own, why he’d dragged Sam into it. He wasn’t going to get anything but more crazed rants. And he didn’t need them. He’d wanted Rumlow to say something else, to make it something else, but Sam could guess just fine. How pleased Rumlow had been when that woman said they looked in love, everything he’d asked Sam to say—that he trusted him, that they were happy. No big plan, no grand vengeance. And now Sam had to live with it for good.
“Sure,” he said. “Thanks for the favor. Enjoy the institutional dining, I hear it’s something else. I’m going home and see what Steve’s got on the stove, myself, so I guess we’re both back where we started.”