What If...? Rumlow Turned Against Hydra: Book One

20

He couldn't sleep. It wasn't unusual for him to not get a good night's sleep, he often had nightmares combined with a restlessness that had been a recent development. He had no idea why he was restless; his life was calm, predictable, even boring. He was supposed to be enjoying that after his years in the Air Force. Working with veterans was rewarding but there was something missing, he just didn't know what it could be. There was nothing to explain the restlessness, which was too much like the feeling he would get before flying missions on active duty. Not quite nervous, or jittery, just ready in ways that he did not need to be in his civilian life.

He had laid in bed for hours, unable to get some rest, until he finally admitted it was pointless to do anything besides get up and try and find a way to get some sleep later. He didn't bother turning on any lights in the apartment, he had no need to have lights on to find his way to the kitchen. As he walked to the fridge, he froze, not because he could see anything was wrong, but because he could feel something in the air that made him suddenly wish to be holding a gun. The closest gun was in the living room where he knew he wouldn't be able to reach it. With only the streetlights outside providing him any way to see, he looked around, seeing the outlines of three people standing near his kitchen table.

"Sam Wilson?" One of them asked, a woman. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it until the lamp near the table was turned on allowing him to see one of the people who had let themselves into his home was Natasha Romanov, otherwise known as Black Widow. Sam didn't recognize the two men; one had a short, military style haircut, looking at Sam curiously, without any hostility or expectation. The other man made Sam want to take a step back instinctively. He was no more hostile than the first man, but the way he stood - completely still - seemed somehow inhuman. That feeling was only reinforced by the eyes: unblinking and glacially cold. Sam knew the second man was beyond dangerous, but Sam also felt he wasn't in danger himself. It made a very confusing situation even more confusing.

"The polite thing to do would have been to knock," Sam said dryly. "And to visit during the day."
"Sorry, Sam." Romanov seemed genuinely apologetic. "We can't come knocking on your door in broad daylight right now."

"Who's we? I know you, if you count that very brief conversation we had a couple of weeks ago as an actual introduction. Pretty sure I've never met your friends." Sam kept his tone friendly but guarded. He was outnumbered, with Black Widow's reputation alone enough to ensure he wouldn't win if there was a fight.

"This is Brock Rumlow," she said by way on introduction, gesturing to the man with the short haircut who nodded at Sam. "He worked with me in SHIELD." She paused as if she wasn't sure what to say about the other man, before she finally seemed to just decide to say it. "This is James Buchanan Barnes, also known as Bucky Barnes."

It took a few seconds for those words to filter through Sam's brain, if only because he would never have thought to ever meet the man who had once been the best friend to Steve Rogers. Sam had seen pictures of Bucky Barnes in textbooks; the man standing in his kitchen did resemble the fallen soldier, though the long hair and somewhat rough short beard were strange to see. The eyes were nothing like what Sam would have expected; he was suddenly consumed with desire to know the full story of everything that had been going on. His earlier restlessness made sense to him as he knew with utter certainty that he would be in battle again in the future.

"I assume I don't need to say anything such as: I'm not sure I believe this," Sam said at last. "But I do want to know what the hell is going on."

"Long story," Rumlow said.

"I have plenty of time." Sam looked at the grim, almost sad expressions on the faces of Romanov and Rumlow, plus taking into consideration the presence of a man who was supposed to have been dead for seventy years, experiencing a sudden rush of concern. "Has something happened to Steve?"