Who: James Buchanan Barnes and Brock Rumlow What: It's a small world When: Wednesday afternoon Rating: Rating Yellow for a fair amount of cussing
It didn't even fade in. Just boom, lights, noise, everything crowding in on him. Rumlow felt blinded, so he closed his eyes, then opened them as the blare of a car horn headed right at him made him jump reflexively backward. That earned him a "watch where you're going, pal" to which he automatically replied, "Fuck off." It was like Times fucking Square--and he hated Times Square with a passion--the amount of people crowding and jostling him, and now that his eyes were open he could see that it was, he was in Times fucking Square, New York City, despite the last coherent memory he had was of trying to kill both himself and Captain fucking America in Lagos.
He staggered back, shoving a couple of hapless tourists out of the way, until he had a wall at his back. It helped him think. It started to come back to him. The explosion, and the pain, just when he thought he'd forgotten what it felt like. Burning and light and Roger's stupid face the last thing he saw... before he died. He had to have died.
He looked down at his hands and instead of the scarred skin he'd last seen there, they were smooth and perfect. He patted at his chest through the shirt he wore and felt no scars there either. He had to know now. He spun around, looking for a reflective surface. He found one, a window at least, enough of a reflection that he could see his face. Unscarred. Hair perfect as always. Looking just like he had before those assholes dropped a building on him.
If this was a dream, he liked it.
Eventually Rumlow gravitated toward the area he knew best--Brooklyn. He needed a place to stay, and food, not necessarily in that order. He would steal if he had to, but fortunately he had a pretty good idea of how to make money, and where to do that.
There were lots of boxing gyms in his old neighborhood. Most of them were completely legit, but some of them had a back room business in illegal fights. People would bet on almost anything, the more violent the better. And if he had one life skill, it was fighting.
Since the fights were illegal, there were usually no rules either. That suited Rumlow just fine. It didn’t take him long to find the place he wanted. The guy running it was skeptical. Rumlow was smaller than most of the guys hanging around there. But he finally shrugged, declaring it to be Rumlow’s funeral, and told him he’d fight the winner of the next round. He’d get fifty bucks if he lost, two hundred if he won. Rumlow had to take the deal.
He pulled off his shirt and bounced on his toes, warming up a little as he watched the two men square off.
Bucky was extremely good at making his limited resources stretch. He’d lived on the run, little more than homeless, for over two years. The money he’d received was more than enough to last him. But he had other reasons for venturing into Brooklyn. While he remembered more every day, there were more gaps than memories still. He knew that he’d grown up in Brooklyn. From the Smithsonian exhibit, and what he could find online, he knew that he’d been an amateur boxer before he’d been drafted. He’d found the address of the gym closest to the apartment he’d last lived in and miraculously it was still in business.
Rumlow tried not to sneer as he watched the men fight. His biggest challenge was going to be making the fight last longer than thirty seconds.
A big ugly bald guy won the fight, amid ragged cheers. Rumlow was waved into the ring and he could hear the laughter. They wouldn’t be laughing long.
The whistle blew and Rumlow waited a moment, giving his opponent a chance to go first. The other man waded in, throwing a clumsy punch that only had strength going for it. Rumlow ducked it easily, getting inside the mans guard and delivering a hard jab to his stomach, followed by a knee to his nose as he doubled over. The man went down with a grunt.
Interacting with strangers always made Bucky anxious, but with minimal conversation, he was directed towards the back room where ‘fights’ were going on. It became pretty obvious that the entire thing was some highly illegal practice. He was going to turn around and leave when he spotted a face he recognized in the ring. He took a few steps closer to make sure he was correct.
Rumlow. He hadn’t thought about him in such a long time, but the moment he saw him, everything came flooding back.
When the big bald man didn’t get up again, the crowd started to grumble a little. The guy in charge called Rumlow over. “You win another one and I’ll give you five hundred.”
Rumlow was barely winded. “Plus the two you already owe me?” He needed the money but he wasn’t going to be cheated.
“Yeah, Yeah. Now get in there before we lose the audience.”
Rumlow didn’t trust the man but he had little choice. He headed back into the ring and waited for the next guy. He was even bigger and uglier, and hit the ground just as fast.
Bucky could only stare and hold onto the back of a chair. Memories good and bad crowded in on him and he sat down. Rumlow was clearly still very skilled at hand to hand, but the violence of it filled Bucky with anxiety. That and the reminiscences of some of the things Rumlow had rescued him from at the HYDRA base. He felt light-headed and queasy. All he could do was watch and hold onto his seat to keep himself upright.
The crowd was definitely turning ugly. Clearly he was being bet against and people were losing heavily. Time to get out. He headed for the guy in charge.
“Okay. That’s seven hundred you owe me.”
The man scowled. “Why don’t you fight one more. Another five if you win.”
Rumlow shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this. “Nah. Maybe next time. Gimme my money.” He tried to turn to keep an eye on the crowd. He was good but he was way outnumbered.
Bucky could sense the tension in the onlookers. He wondered why they seemed to be directing hostility towards Rumlow, after he won twice in a row. He seemed to be quitting, and Bucky wondered if that was why. He stood up slowly and slipped to the back of the crowd, making his way closer to the other man.
“You gotta give them a chance to make their money back,” the man insisted.
“No I don’t.” Rumlow was getting pissed now. He needed this money and he was pretty damn hungry already. He couldn’t keep this up indefinitely without food. “We had a deal.”
He could feel the crowd shifting behind him and Rumlow turned, fists clenched. It looked like he was going to have to fight after all.
“Hey pipsqueak,” one of the rabble called out. “Why don’t you come here and fight a real man.”
Bucky was surprised by the obvious venom of the audience, simply because they thought Rumlow was going to be an underdog.
Rumlow sighed. He usually like to be underestimated but right now he only wanted to get his money and go. It didn’t look like that was an option though. “I would if there were any real men here, fuckface.”
The crowd surged forward and fists started flying. Bucky could see that it was five or six against one, with another dozen standing around egging them on. Rumlow could hold his own, definitely, but this was a lot more than that. He did the only thing he could do. He started shoving his way through to the action.
Rumlow was focused. He had no choice now, and it was fight or get the shit beaten out of him. Or worse. He took out one after another, and soon a knife made an appearance. He took it from his assailant and he felt a little better, but it was only a matter of time before someone came up with a gun.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw another fight break out. He had to look back and focus on his own fight, but suddenly there were a lot less guys surrounding him. He had a moment to get a good look and it was like an actual punch in the gut. The asset. Barnes. He was here somehow. He wouldn’t have believed it but the whole thing had been unbelievable. Of course Barnes was cutting through the men like butter. Rumlow had to get near him.
He finally managed to fight a path closer. Now he was next to Barnes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He yelled.
Bucky was barely winded. He punched one squarely in the jaw and he went down. He had to pull his punches considerably for fear of accidentally killing someone. He didn’t think that would be tolerated by anyone. “Looks like I’m saving your ass,” he called back. He blocked another punch and kicked out his assailant’s knee. He was fighting with just his right arm and legs. He didn’t want anyone to know about the left arm. Luckily it was winter, so it was easy to conceal.
Rumlow snorted and moved so his back was to the other man. Now they were covered, and he started to move them toward an exit. He knew Barnes would be able to grasp the strategy because they’d done it a number of times before. “Well, Thanks. Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
“What about your money?” Bucky asked. He’d heard enough of what had gone on, through the background noise. “I can get the guy to pay you what he owes you.” In a weird way, Bucky felt responsible for how shitty his old gym had become that they would cheat someone so badly, and then essentially try to kill him. Not that they would have been able to kill Rumlow. He was sure none of them had ever tangled with a HYDRA tactical agent.
Rumlow considered. He needed the money but they needed to get out of here before more thugs showed up. “I’ll get money some other way. I just wanna get the fuck out.” And he wanted to talk to Barnes. Find out what the fuck was going on.
Bucky nodded and moved with Rumlow towards the exit. By that point, most of who they were facing had been knocked down at least once, and were finally hesitant to rush forward for more punishment. They reached the side door and Bucky pushed it open. The sunlight streamed into the dark interior and made him squint a little, but he side stepped out, making sure Rumlow was close. When they both got outside, he dashed down the alley towards the street. “I know a good spot,” he said, jogging backwards for a moment. He turned the corner and darted around other pedestrians on the sidewalk. A half block down was an extremely run down bar, covered with graffiti all over the door. It barely looked like it was still open to the public, but it was. Bucky pushed the door open and stepped in, waiting for Rumlow to follow.
Rumlow followed without hesitation. If Barnes wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have stepped in back there. He wasn’t sure how much the other man remembered, but at least he didn’t seem hostile. “Thanks,” he said as he looked around. There were a few people there but they were studiously minding their own business.
Bucky strolled down to the very back of the bar, to a small section with rickety wooden tables. He took a seat and waited for Rumlow to join him. “You want a drink?” he asked. He had a little cash on him, enough to buy a drink anyway. “This was my old neighborhood,” he said, by way of explanation as to how he knew the bar was there.
“Mine too, or close by at least,” Rumlow said. Though he didn’t know this place. “I don’t have any money, obviously, but if you’re buying…” He really needed some food as well, but a drink sounded really good right now. He eyed Barnes as he sat down. He looked pretty much the same, though a little healthier than when he’d been the asset.
Bucky nodded. “Wait here,” he said, getting up again to stroll to the end of the bar. A couple of minutes later he came back with two cold bottles of beer. He put one down in front of Rumlow and slid into his seat. “How long have you been here?” he asked.
Rumlow took a long drink before he answered. Beer wasn’t his favorite thing but right now it tasted like ambrosia. “Since this morning. Before that, the last thing I remember is dying. You got any idea what the fuck is going on?” He wasn’t the type to freak out. He’d seen a lot of strange things. He just wanted answers.
Bucky felt like Rumlow had gotten even less explanation than he had. “There was a thing that happened that screwed up… well, time. And now I guess there are people showing up here from other places and some from other times. I was… not in New York and then suddenly I was.” He took a sip of his own beer, though he could drink a gallon of the stuff and it wouldn’t touch him. “There’s… I guess Stark didn’t anticipate you ever showing up, if you were… dead. He got hotel rooms and money for anyone that might find themselves suddenly displaced.”
Well, there was a lot of information to process. “Is Stark the cause of this? Why would he give out money, especially to you?” He knew what Barnes had done while he was brainwashed, including killing Stark’s parents. He took another drink, though he could feel the effects on an empty stomach. “Where were you?”
It was a fair question. “Stark didn’t have anything to do with breaking time. And I guess he’s trying to look like the good guy. He’s got the money to do it.” He took another little sip of beer. “I was in Wakanda. In cryo, until they could figure out how to undo my programming.”
“And did they?” Rumlow asked carefully. He didn’t know the words they used to program the Asset. He’d heard them, but he didn’t think he could have enunciated them properly. Besides, he would never have done that. He’d done his best to protect Barnes as much as he could. Which hadn’t been enough, he knew. Barnes must have remembered something, or else he wouldn’t have helped him.
That was the one thing Bucky didn’t know, and didn’t know how to find out. It was the single most important piece of information to him. He wondered how much that wizard guy knew about him, and if there was some supernatural way of accomplishing what he needed accomplished. “Don’t know,” he said quietly. “Got a new arm, though. Maybe they did it while I was out?” The new arm was a lot lighter than the old one. Pretty much the same weight as the real arm, which was good so far.
Rumlows gaze went to the man's left arm. Under the jacket you couldn’t tell. “What happened to the old one?” He had so many questions he almost didn’t know where to start. He mostly wondered how many people were going to try to kill him when they realized he wasn’t dead.
Bucky’s lips twitched. “Got in a fight with Stark’s suit,” he said. Then he lowered his gaze when he thought about why he was fighting with Stark in the first place. “There was a guy who blamed them for that whole thing in Sokovia, so he tried to turn the Avengers against each other. Using me. So Stark was trying to kill me to get back at Steve for not telling him that I was the one who’d killed his parents.” The whole thing was still difficult to talk about, but in a way it felt good, too. Like talking about it made it easier to let it go.
Rumlow blinked. “Jesus. I never thought to check the date. How long have I been… gone?” He knew some time had passed but it looked like a lot had happened. “It wasn’t you that killed them. It was HYDRA.”
“It’s 2018. What time did you come from?” he asked. Bucky realized he’d asked very little about where Rumlow had been, but he knew the other man was not normally one to volunteer information. He took another swig of beer, then started idly picking at the label on the bottle. “Doesn’t make much difference if it was me or HYDRA. They’re still dead.”
Rumlow thought about it. “Looks like l lost about two years. I died… or thought I did… in Lagos.” At some point he was going to have to tell Bucky that he’d died trying to kill his best friend. Not now though. “In 2016.”
“I went into cryo in 2016, so yeah. Wait…” He frowned as Rumlow’s words sank in. “You died? What happened?” He knew that Rumlow lived a pretty violent life. As far as he knew, he always had. But he didn’t really know anything other than their time in HYDRA, and the fact that he’d just been about to get pummeled by a dozen boxing guys.
Rumlow looked at Bucky curiously. He would have thought he would have more information than that. He wasn’t ready to get into it yet. “It’s a long story. I got blown up. My own fault. Last thing I remember is… boom.” He looked down at himself. “After what went down before, I was a mess. All scarred up. And now I’m not. So obviously some weird shit is going down.”
Bucky had spent so long being completely incommunicado with everyone and everything. He’d been learning how to hide himself away from the surveillance cameras that were on every street corner, at the same time he had to beg and steal to provide for his most basic essentials. Food. Shelter. The fact that not having those things probably wasn’t going to kill him never made it any easier. On top of that, he was fighting the gaping emptiness of his memories for a long time, piecing things back together. He never forgot Rumlow, but he wasn’t sure exactly where he fit into everything for a long while. “Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.
“Ha. No. That was why I was fighting. It’s always a risky business, though. Maybe I shoulda taken a few more punches to make it look better.” Rumlow shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.” He looked curiously at Barnes. “You seem a lot more… here than the last time I saw you. Do you remember everything?”
“I remember a lot. Not everything. That’s kinda why I was here. I used to box at that gym. Um. A long time ago. Very long,” he said picking his beer label again. “And sometimes I picked up a bartending shift now and again at this bar. I thought maybe I could remember more here, but… it’s all so different. I barely recognize it.” He finished off his beer and put the bottle down on the table again.
Rumlow stared across the table at Barnes. He wanted to ask what he remembered about him. If he remembered that he’d done his best to protect him. “I guess since you helped me, you remember some stuff about me.” He couldn’t ask any more directly. He didn’t want to bring up bad memories.
Bucky looked across the table at him. “Yeah. I remember you,” he said quietly. “For a while that was almost all I could remember. HYDRA stuff. And everything I did. I haven’t had my memory wiped out since… the last time I saw you, I think. When Pierce was there.” Bucky remembered more about Alexander Pierce than he really wanted to, and he was tempted to spit in disgust like he’d seen the Russians do. Instead he just muttered, “Grebanyy monstr.”
Rumlow didn’t know Russian but he caught the tone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more than I did to help you. Pierce was too powerful.” He drained his beer, watching Barnes as he did. He could imagine how haunted he must be by those memories.
“You did what you could, and I’m grateful. I know you tried to protect me from him and the rest,” he said. “You want another? Or… you wanna go somewhere for a bite?” he asked. If Rumlow had no money, and he’d been there all day, he was probably starving. Bucky was always hungry, of course, but he could wait as long as he had to.
Rumlows stomach growled involuntarily and he chuckled. “Are you sure you can afford it? Yeah. I’m hungry. Not gonna lie.” He leaned forward. “I’ll pay you back somehow. And… you took a bullet for me. I ain’t never gonna forget that.”
“I can afford it. They gave me enough money for a month, so… I’m sure I can find some way to get money by then.” He stood up, waiting for Rumlow. “There used to be a really great diner down on 7th.” He held the door for him, pulling his cap further down as they stepped back out onto the street. He wasn’t cold, though it was windy. It was just a habit he’d gotten into so he wouldn’t be noticed. As he led the way to what he hoped was still a great diner, he glanced at Rumlow. “If you need somewhere to crash tonight, you’re welcome to share my hotel room,” he offered.
Rumlow glanced at Barnes as he walked beside him. “Are you sure? I would’ve thought you…” he shook his head. “Never mind. Yeah. I got no place to stay. I’m not sure if I got any family left around here. If I did I doubt they’d want to see me anyway. So thanks.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked.
Bucky guessed what he was getting at. “I don’t think he’s here. I haven’t heard anything.” He shrugged his shoulders, but then spotted the diner. “Hey, it’s still here,” he said, almost smiling. “Whaddya know. In business for nearly a hundred fucking years.” He held the door open for Rumlow. The place looked like it had possibly had an overhaul in the last half century, but otherwise, it was more or less exactly the same.
“I think I remember my old man taking us here once,” Rumlow said, looking around. Most diners were pretty good as long as you stuck with the basics. It was still surreal walking into a diner in Brooklyn with the asset. They took a seat and he picked up a menu.
Bucky slid into his seat and opened the menu, then closed it almost as quickly. It was kind of sweet to think of Rumlow as a kid. He wondered what happened in his life to turn everything down the HYDRA path for him. Bucky would never have joined willingly. Unfortunately, his wishes weren’t an issue. “I think I’m gonna stick with the classic cheeseburger deluxe and maybe a chocolate shake.”
“Good plan,” Rumlow nodded. “I kinda feel like breakfast, though I got no clue what time it is. I think I could eat a huge omelet. With hash browns. I don’t remember the last time I had hash browns.” He closed the menu and looked across at Barnes. “How long you been here?”
“Yesterday. Just long enough to find my way to the hotel and buy less inappropriate clothes.” He looked down at himself, the cheap jeans, plain white t-shirt, hoodie, and jacket combination was a big improvement over what he’d arrived in. “There’s a… um, some arrangements. Like I said. I can ask the other guy about it on your behalf. I mean, you were messed up by time, too.” He clearly couldn’t ask Stark for anything assistance.
“The other guy?” Rumlow asked curiously. The whole thing was weird but he was used to weird. “Pretty sure no one’s gonna wanna help me though.” He couldn’t blame them. He’d tried to get away from HYDRA but he hadn’t been successful, even after the first accident.
“The guy who caused the time thing. Doctor Strange. He’s the one that delivered the money and the phone and stuff. If I tell him you’re here, he’ll probably take care of you, too. Get you a room and everything, at least until you can get on your feet. But I wouldn’t want to tell anyone you’re here without your permission.” He didn’t want to speak for Rumlow, but he would if that was what he wanted.
Rumlow was skeptical. “Why would he help me at all? I don’t understand.” No one had ever given him anything for free and he doubted they were going to start now. “Look. I don’t wanna get you in trouble. I’ll stay with you tonight then I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll figure something out.” Barnes had had enough trouble for several lifetimes.
“Well, it’s his fault, sort of. He doesn’t know me, either, but he tracked me down to give me a hand. You won’t get me in trouble. But if you don’t want them to know you’re here, I can understand that. I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone to know.” Mostly Bucky was worried about confronting Stark. Without Steve around, he was a lot more likely to delope in a one on one fight if it came to that.
Rumlow considered. He was probably legally dead. This was his chance to disappear. Lose himself in the city, or go somewhere else. But for that he needed money. “I gotta think about this.” He also sort of wanted to stay near Barnes. The other man wouldn’t want to know that, though. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” he said. “Take all the time you want.” The waitress came over to the table and Bucky gave her his order. He never tried to flirt with waitresses anymore. He kept to himself as much as possible. But he remembered that guy. He was still in there, somewhere.
Rumlow ordered too, mind running a thousand miles an hour. How could he use this situation to his advantage? Without hurting Barnes, of course. Or getting the attention of law enforcement. He had so many things to consider. “Anybody else around I should know about?”
“Stark is here. Doctor Strange, who screwed up time in the first place. Thor and Loki are around. A couple other people I don’t know anything about.” Bucky didn’t mind helping Rumlow. It wasn’t a matter of owing him, although he still felt like he did. He just… wanted to help him.
“As long as Pierce doesn’t come back from the dead, I don’t care,” Rumlow said darkly. “Cause I’d have to kill him again.” That was the only good thing that had come from that situation, that the Avengers had ended Pierce.
Bucky didn’t want to think about Pierce, even about killing him. Or watching him suffer. Any mental image of the man was anxiety-producing. “So… yeah. I don’t know of anyone else is around. It’s not like they’ve all checked in with me, you know?” He pulled out his phone, to just check if there were any more new people.
“Yeah. Sorry. This must be really weird for you, too.” He looked down at himself with a crooked grin. “At least I look better than I did before.” It was something positive at least. “You look pretty good too. Healthy.”
Bucky was glad for the change of subject and he locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket. “Yeah. I feel like… some of the shit they were injecting me with all the time made me look like Hell.” He hadn’t really thought much about his looks, beyond enjoying long, hot showers all alone. “Thanks,” he said.
Rumlow realized he was probably staring at Barnes, and he quickly looked down at his coffee. “I’m real glad you got away from all that,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help with that.” He had done the best he could, but Barnes didn’t need to know the reason behind that.
Bucky sucked in a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, just as the drinks arrived at the table. “You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t your fault. That you helped at all is better than anyone else in there did.”
Rumlow nodded. Barnes wouldn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t blame him. “So… Are you still wanted? Or did Rogers get the charges dropped against you somehow?”
“I doubt he’d be able to accomplish that without at least some kind of trial. And he was a fugitive, too, last I knew.” He didn’t know much about the Accords, but he knew that was why they’d fought at first. The fight with Stark was something else completely, of course. “Probably still wanted. That would be my guess. I guess I’m not drawing that army pension any time soon.”
“Rogers a fugitive? You’re gonna have to fill me in. Looks like I missed a lot.” He shook his head. “Least I’m probably not wanted. Bein dead and all.” He wondered if anybody from the old neighborhood could be trusted any more. He was going to need a job that paid cash.
“I don’t know too much about it. A bunch of countries got together and came up with this plan that the Avengers would work for the United Nations, so they could be held responsible for all the destruction they cause when they save the world from crazy dangerous shit, and half of them didn’t sign. And then there was the whole… not turning me in thing, too.” He knew that Stark had promised not to turn anyone in, but he didn’t really feel like he wanted anyone else to get in trouble on his behalf. “Why, are you thinking about how we’re gonna be able to make any money under the table? Your boxing idea might not be a bad one, if we can find some way not to draw attention. Like not winning every time.” He smirked a little before he ripped the paper off a straw to stick it into his chocolate shake.
Rumlow listened carefully to what Barnes told him. It didn’t sound good, but at least there would be fewer people trying to kill him. “I used to make money that way. Until I joined HYDRA. I guess I still made money that way then.” He ran a hand through his hair. Now was not the time to reflect on his life’s mistakes. “I don’t have a whole lot of other skills.” Barnes would be perfect for fighting. If they could hide the arm.
“I used to box for fun at the Y before I got drafted. I was pretty good. Nothing like… now. I coulda killed every one of those guys.” He slurped some chocolate shake loudly through his straw, because it was delicious, and he had a deep appreciation for the little things. “We’re gonna have to go someplace else, though.” He looked down at his arm. “I could get away with long sleeves, I think.” The food arrived, and Bucky’s stomach growled, too, but he took his time, opening the ketchup and cutting his burger in half to make it easier to pick up, putting salt on his fries.
Rumlow ate slowly so he didn’t overload his stomach. He watched Barnes, still adjusting to the fact that he was all there. From time to time over the years he’d known him as the Asset, he’d been more coherent, but he’d never been like this. A thought occurred to him. “How do you communicate with Strange?”
Bucky knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the network after Stark’s initial post, but who the hell was Rumlow gonna tell? “There’s a thing. A special encrypted network for those who’ve been sucked in to the time mistake. I guess they weren’t expecting you, so they don’t know you’re here. Which is why you have to decide if you want them to know or not. Access came along with the phone and the hotel room.”
“I see.” Rumlow hesitated. “I’m not sure I want them to know. They’re not gonna be happy to see me.” But if he stayed with Barnes for much longer, surely someone would notice. He didn’t want to get Barnes in trouble, but he also wanted to stay in contact with the only person he seemed to know here.
Bucky wiped his leather glove on the napkin a little awkwardly. “Up to you. Everyone’s been pretty nice to me so far, and… I mean coming back from the dead oughta get you a little leeway, you know?” He thought it should, anyway. “But it’s completely your decision. Just let me know.”
Rumlow nodded. “I just need some time to think. Thanks.” He finished his omelette and drained his coffee. He was feeling a great deal better now. “And thanks for dinner.” He hoped he could pay Barnes back some day.
Bucky cleared off his plate, making his way through everything, including the pickle and the cole slaw. He finished his chocolate shake and sat back in his seat, patting his stomach. “I’m heading back. You wanna come with? Or I can give you the address.”
“I’ll come with ya. Unless you think that’s a bad idea?” Rumlow wasn’t sure how to navigate this situation now. He didn’t want to lose his only ally. “But maybe I should know the address anyway. Just in case.”
“I think if someone’s looking for us, they’re gonna find us. But I don’t think anyone’s looking for us. C’mon,” he said, peeling off the right amount of bills to cover the check. “It’s in the flatiron district. We can get a subway right there.” He appreciated Rumlow’s caution, but even if the government was keeping an eye out for him, they’d be monitoring airports, not subway stations.