It's all the Past. (Closed to captain_asthmatic)

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Who: Steve Rogers & Brock Rumlow
When: Summer of 1941
What: Rumlow is sent to the past in order to alter the future for an assured victory for HYDRA in the Second World War.
Warnings: Rumlow being Rumlow. Violence. World domination


HYDRA was finally strong enough to have partial access to the Tesseract and the power that it held. Most of SHIELD science was trying to use the cube in a different way, as a power source but also as a gateway to another world. That was what it was for, but HYDRA had other plans for the Tesseract. The failure of the war was considered pivotal enough where some believed that if the past was altered then the miserable future that they currently lived in would have never come to pass. It would be a better world under the Red Skull.

He was just a boy when they started to study the ability to use the Tesseract as a gateway to span between time and space. He hadn't even decided what he wanted to be when he had grown up save that he would be a drunk and he would be a better man than those who were weak enough to die in the ditch. New York was a tough place to live where he did, but he survived and he go tough despite being in trouble with the law.

He was recruited in juvenile detention, and his life changed. His life became something worth living, so he served and went where he was told, learned the skills that they told him to. He survived, and he learned that just like the miserable kids on the streets, he could lead if he said the right word. It didn't matter to him about race, gender or social class. If one could get the job done and do it well, he would respect them. If not, they were no better then dirt under his boots. He drove men to better though because he wasn't dying because they were weak.

When he was twenty-four, he was taken off of his final tour and sent to New Jersey. He and twenty other men were put into Project Rewind and they were drilled hard and fast into the early forties such as culture, class, history, fashion, currency and even linguistics patterns. The Tesseract was going to sent one lucky man back to alter history to assure HYDRA of a win it was owed. He studied hard, but he wasn't top on the list to get chosen for trial; he was somewhere in the middle.

The first six men never came back. Rumors began to circulate that the project was never going to work. He ignored them and kept fit and loyal. He had to know what to do if it was him that made the transition. He knew the people he was supposed to talk to, the hands he was to shake, the men who would get him in and let him follow the final order to the best of his ability. The next three men never came back either.

Brock volunteered as the tenth. He was given his orders: find Steve Rogers, get close and deliver the super soldier to the Red Skull. Do that and victory was assured.

He was dressed in clothing appropriate to the time era he was supposed to be going to save that he snuck his favourite knife into his boot. He was given some currency with the appropriate dates and told to stand in a particularly spot. He was staring right at the Tesseract, and it seemed far more beautiful than the potential of a horrible death. He noted the spot where he was standing smelled like burnt flesh. It made his toes curl in his boots, but he set himself.

Brock Rumlow was born in 1971. When he opened his eyes after the blue flash of light and the frigid cold of energy that felt like it was burning his flesh right off of his bones, he was standing in the streets of New Jersey in 1941. He was twenty five, and he hadn't even been born yet. He was here to change the future, a future that no longer existed for him because he was here. This was his present. This was his future.

Slowly, he tottered off on shaky legs to get in touch with the right people. He enlisted at the right time, at the right station with the right doctor and he was chosen for Project Rebirth. He was shipped to Camp Lehigh to form a unit of special forces for the United States military under the SSR. The first day was debriefings, a set of their itinerary, books, the start of the rigors of usual boot camp. It wasn't even as physical as his boot camp had been.

It wasn't hard to spot Steve Rogers, and he admitted to not finding the kid anything to look at, but this was going to be a legend. This was going to be Captain America, and he knew what that small frail body was going to turn into and what that stubborn man was going to do for America. Rogers was the joke of the group on a lesser level than Agent Carter. Everyone expected Rogers to drop out or die. No one even really talked to the guy for the first day, not even in the mess hall.

Rumlow sized the guy up all day, waiting and looking for opportunity to approach. Their assigned barracks were pretty much like ancient cabins, the bunks were alright, but the living quarters the usual crammed pieces of crap. He took the bunk on top of Steve's when it was apparent no one else would; he knew guys were punished for not pulling their weight. He swaggered over and stood in front of the scrawny man with his pack on his shoulder and his uniform jacket hanging open.

"Do you mind if I take the top bed?" Everyone stopped to look, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he reached out with his right hand. "Brock Rumlow, pleased to make your acquaintance." Ugh, he was going to barf on his shoes with all this niceness.

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He pushed himself up to stand and rested his belly against the railing, leaning out again over the bursts of heat and holding his hands out. "I'm not leaving you behind; you owe me at least a kiss," he hollered back and gestured with his hands. "Come on, what's the worst that will happen?"

They might just burn anyway. He doubted it, but it was a reality that came with a building exploding around them. Steve had to be captured to be of use to the Skull, and that meant both of them surviving this.

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Steve looked slightly desperate and maybe a little exasperated. He looked around, secured his shield and bent the metal bars out of his way. Then he took a running jump, leaping recklessly over the abyss as explosions rang out and trumpets sounded--

And he slammed into the railing right in front of Rumlow, grabbing desperately for them and trying to haul himself over before he could fall into the inferno below.

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Rumlow didn't take his eyes off of Steve, wanting to see first hand that this was the man that would single-handedly be the most dangerous one against HYDRA. That jump took his breath away, even as flames and heat caressed Steve on the way over, and his hands snapped out to grab the man, this Captain America, and helped Steve over the railing.

He then slammed his mouth against Steve's, keeping the man fiercely but quickly. "That was the best thing I've ever seen." Not a lie either.

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Steve indulged the kiss, happy that Rumlow was okay, and feeling a bit of that heartpounding adrenaline himself from the jump. He grinned and pressed his forehead to Brock's for a moment. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Then he drew back and hurried down the corridor, drawing Rumlow with him. "Come on. We've got to catch up with the others."

Outside, there were a lot of HYDRA soldiers getting their asses kicked by GIs. Steve spent the next little while helping them to mop up while the facility itself collapsed and burned, then rounding up all the former prisoners and sorting out the wounded. They would need to walk out of enemy territory, but at least Steve knew which way to go.

Still, even as four hundred men began their joyous march back to safety, Steve was despondent and quiet. He had saved a lot of people, but Bucky was still missing, and he had no idea which facility he was in. Assuming that he was in any of the places marked on the map.

That night, as they made camp, Captain America pretended to smile and acknowledged the back slaps and thanks from the various former prisoners. But as soon as he could, he slipped away and sat by a tree, looking back the way they had come, struggling with himself. The others would be all right now. He could just go, and keep looking for Bucky.

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The facility was as good as done, but Brock still grabbed a gun to help out with the mop up, not about to miss an opportunity fight alongside Captain Rogers. His lower back still itched, but he ignored that when he had to twist and fire, keeping the normal rifles rather than those made by HYDRA. He'd get his chance with those soon enough.

The march was actually a struggle for him, given the distance that they were required to go. He was by no means the worst off, so he didn't complain and kept pace, the bounce of is dogtags against his chest a rhythm that he kept to put one foot in front of the other until they made camp. He helped to distribute the little food and water that they had, noting that Captain Roger's slipped away.

He followed after a few minutes, aware of the problem. It would be so easy to put a bullet into the man's head, but the Skull wanted Rogers alive and useful. His job was to deliver on that need and to gather intelligence on the American war effort. So, he would have to do that.

He came to lean his shoulder against the side of the tree, looking in the same distance as Steve. "We've got a few Lieutenants who can get the men back across the line. If you want to go, I'll cover for you. You might be the only man alive who can play the one-man army game, but just know that if you die or get captured, Schmidt wins. No one else can stand up to him."

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Steve looked up as Brock walked up, but quickly looked down again once he knew who it was. His eyes were wet, and he swiped his fingers over them quickly, and frowned down at the ground, where he had been methodically shredding fallen leaves. He was surrounded by a little pile of crunched up leaves by now.

He bit his lip at that succinct summation of the situation, feeling ashamed. He needed to save Bucky. Needed to. But maybe Brock was right. If he ran off selfishly again, it was possible that he'd be captured the next time, since now Schmidt knew what he could do. If he went back to the camp and talked to Colonel Phillips, maybe they'd let him organize a proper rescue.

"But I'm not doing any good as I've been for the last few months," he said. "If I go back and they put me back on the war bonds trail again, no one's going to rescue Bucky or stop Schmidt."

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He casually ignored - but noted - the tears, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked out across the territory that they had already crossed. While he couldn't well lose Rogers back that way, he also was logical enough to know that he couldn't actually stop the guy. It would be up the Schmidt then, and he was certain that the Skull was keeping track of his position right now.

"You make it sound like, after this hair-brain rescue mission, they are going to waste you on war bonds. If anything, news of this will do far more than any songs you've sung," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Phillips is an old boy; he plays by the rules of what a man can do, and you've proven what you can do. He'll put you in play."

He shifted his footing and rested more against the tree. "I'll go after your friend for you if you want, if you can't do it yourself. He's obviously very important to you."

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"Are you nuts?" Steve looked up, eyes wide. Brock would go back into danger for him, all on his own? No, he couldn't let that happen.

He got to his feet and shook his head. "No, I can't let you go after him alone. You just escaped."

He reached out and put a hand to the back of Rumlow's neck, leaning close again. "Thanks...for talking me down. You're right. I'll go back, and make Phillips put me in the field, and then go after Bucky. I have intel that they need, for one thing, and for another, I don't think this is something I can do all by myself. I need a team."

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"That's debatable," he replied sarcastically, not moving when Steve rose. He was still getting used to the height difference between them. "Don't be noble, Cap. Every man makes the sacrifice play he thinks he needs to. I might not be a super soldier, but I can play."

He grunted and clapped Steve on the back of the neck in return, pleased to have gotten the man's mind off of rushing off. That was not a sample he wanted to lose just yet. It was harder still not to give Rogers the strong impression he knew for certain that Phillips would make the play.

"Oh, I hope I'm present when you have to butt heads with him. You know he still outranks you, right?" Ah yes... the Howling Commandos. Who could forget them?

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Steve was still getting used to it, too. He'd gone from being substantially shorter than Rumlow, to being taller than he was. It was weird.

"Yeah, but Bucky's my best friend, and you barely even know him." He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Rumlow as he slipped his arms around him. They were alone. It was safe for him to do this, so long as no one came looking for them.

"I hope he listens to me. He might just throw me in a cell for insubordination, and he wouldn't be wrong to do it."

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"If he's going to keep your head on your shoulders and focused on the fact you're now hope of the country, then I'll go out on my own to get him back," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. And he could worm his way deeper into Steve's good graces and possibly use the friendship for his purposes too.

He glanced around to make certain that no one was anywhere close to them because he wasn't risking Steve's new good reputation on the need to hug. When he was certain they had the all clear, he curled an arm around Steve's back and stroked his hand along it.

"He might, but he like everyone else is dying for good soldiers. Besides, I'm sure you could just punch your way out."

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Steve considered protesting that he wouldn't punch his way out of jail if his own government decided that he should be incarcerated for what he'd done. Then he thought about the fact that Bucky was still out there, and held his tongue. He wasn't sure he could just stay in jail under those circumstances.

He tightened his arms around Rumlow and let out a long breath. "Well, there's no good talking about it. One way or another, I'm not letting Bucky die or stay captured by HYDRA, so I'm just going to have to find a way to get back as soon as possible, if Phillips doesn't cooperate."

He lifted his head. "What... were they doing to you, anyway? If you don't mind talking about it."

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Rumlow was pretty sure that Steve would do just about anything for Barnes. It vaguely occurred to him that Rogers might even surrender to ensure Barnes' safety and by then Zola could have done a little extra work on the guy. He might have to suggest that to the Skull, not that he had the power to make decisions for himself.

"For now, you just need to concentrate on getting these four hundred men back to the base. That's the most important in showing that you are an excellent soldier," he said as his hand stroked along Steve's spine.

"Oh you know... this and that. Some kind of injects and flashing lights in my face," he said off-handedly, though he knew that it sounded an awful lot like what Steve had experienced to get that big body.

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It was possible that Steve would, though he'd do a lot to avoid that as well. He'd do his best to break Bucky out without surrendering himself - he couldn't exactly work for HYDRA and endanger people that way.

He nodded in agreement. He did need to get these people back to safety.

But his jaw dropped at Rumlow's description and he pulled back to look him over. "Flashing lights? Was it a blue sort of liquid? Did they inject it into your muscles?"

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He shifted back when Steve did, raising his eyebrows at the other man's reactions, though internally he was having a good laugh. They had wanted to test his loyalty after all, so what better way than to let Zola bring sharp objects towards him?

"It started as flashing, but it blinded me a bit," he said, eyeing Steve warily. "And... I don't know, it was dark but it was kind of blue... maybe purplish? What's gotten into you?"

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Steve couldn't really see any changes, but it was hard to say. He looked Rumlow over worriedly. "It sounds a lot like what Dr. Erskine did to me. But you don't seem any different from before. Did it feel like... like hot, when they injected you? Heat under the skin?"

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He pretended like Steve's fussing was more concerning than it was. "It couldn't have been from Erskine; he's dead," he pointed out as he shifted his arms and feet as if to prove that he was just fine.

"No, it felt cold. Like there was ice in my veins, crawling through my muscles... it only turned hot like burning needles with the lights were turned on me," he said with a sort of nonchalance he hoped drove the knife hard.

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Steve swallowed hard. It sounded like HYDRA was experimenting on trying to duplicate the serum, probably using Schmidt's blood. "Well, do you feel any stronger than you were before?" he asked weakly. "Or any different at all?"

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He shook his head. "I just feel tired and like I might puke at any time," he said, passing it off like it was no big deal. He wasn't getting the full meal deal after all, just enough to keep Steve concentrating partially on him. It seemed to work well.

"How fast is it supposed to happen, if it is?"

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"It happened right away for me," Steve said uncertainly. "I went into the pod like you remember and I came out like this. I grew nearly a foot in ten minutes." He looked Rumlow again. "No offense, but you definitely didn't get any taller. You might have gotten shorter."

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Rumlow had enough pride to be stung, though not badly by Steve's words. He punched the guy in the shoulder because it was obvious that Steve could take it without collapsing in a heap now. "I only look shorter because you got taller, nothing more than that." He frowned. "And I'm still tall enough to bite your nipples, so shut it," he whispered through clenched teeth.

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Steve grinned and slung his arm around the other man, but got punched for his trouble. "I'm sorry, I was just teasing." He sobered. "I really didn't mean it. You're gorgeous, and I don't care that you're shorter than I am now."

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He grunted and pretended to be offended, but he made certain that it was rather over-the-top so Steve would know he wasn't serious. He slipped a hand up the other man's tight sweater in revenge to set his cold hand on Steve's nice and warm back.

"Fine, I guess I forgive you. You sure you didn't find a nice girl to doe-eyes on? Otherwise, I might see to it to take advantage of you." He rose on his toes, bringing their faces closer together to indicate just how he would take advantage.

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Steve yelped and batted away the hand, then leaned in and kissed Rumlow soundly. He recognized that he hadn't really been that offended, and was relieved by that.

"Well, if you weren't in the picture, I think Agent Carter might have liked me a little," he confided, but very uncertainly. "But you can take advantage of me any day of the week."

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His hand was shoved away, and he didn't make good on his promise to torment Steve to begging. Not yet anyway. He moaned into the kiss, pleasantly surprised that the good Captain would initiate in the face of his teasing.

"Ah, you and Agent Carter, huh? I don't mind if you want to have a go with her, you know," he said as he rubbed his nose against Steve's cheek. "When all this is over, at least you won't have to feel like a criminal when you're with her. Family and a couple of kids... any man's dream."

Not his. His dreams were far more over-reaching.