Chapter Text
“Is this what I think it is?”, Zemo asked.
He hadn't expected the girl to answer him, but from the way that Karli’s breathing hitched, Zemo knew that his suspicions had been right.
When he’d shot her, he’d been aiming for the head with the intention to put her down as quickly and cleanly as possible. That was the most effective way to kill a super soldier. Zemo wasn't a sadist and he didn't enjoy the suffering of others- unless they were truly worthy of punishment. Drowning Karpov upside down in a sink had been the exception, rather than the rule. Karli may be a supremacist, but she wasn't Karpov. She deserved death, but not pain. Unfortunately, the girl had dodged and the bullet caught her in the stomach. That was a bad way to go, but Zemo had every intention of finishing the job quickly.
The super soldier was slumped behind a table she’d overturned, but as Zemo approached with his gun raised, something caught his attention. Scattered at his feet was a handful of glass vials, which he knew contained the serum.
“No, don’t!”, Karli protested, but Zemo was already crushing them underfoot. As the glass shattered and azure blue spilled onto the dirty tiles, Zemo tasted victory in the destruction. He was so focused on the task that he barely registered one of Karli's allies bursting into the room.
The man moved with inhuman speed, pulling Karli to her feet before Zemo could stop him. But as he did so, Zemo caught sight of the bloodsoaked pouch at her hip and the blue glint of more vials inside. A miscalculation, on his part. He should have ensured that the target was neutralized before destroying the serum. It had been a long time since he’d done this, and clearly he was out of practice. He would not make the same mistake again.
That was his last thought before something heavy hit him in the head and everything went black.
*
He woke up lying on the floor with James Barnes’s icy blue eyes staring down at him. The man was crouched over him, and Zemo found his presence strangely comforting. Perhaps he should have found it unsettling, because the last time they’d been in such close proximity, James had wrapped his vibranium fingers around his throat and gripped him in a choke hold. A threat, but more than that too. Zemo had sensed the barely restrained strength in the super soldier’s grip, and had the visceral feeling that James was actively fighting his desire to…he wasn’t sure. And it was a rare thing for Zemo to be unable to read someone’s intentions. Perhaps because James seemed so conflicted. As if he were at odds with himself, being pulled in different directions. Unable to stay on the course that he knew he should keep.
The emotions that had played across James’s face as he held Zemo in that moment were fascinating. Anger of course, but also a large amount of fear. James was afraid of him, or perhaps what he feared that Zemo could bring out in him. It had been unexpectedly thrilling, and had made quite the start to their little adventure. The incident had shown Zemo that James was highly reactive, an unstable element. But he’d proved malleable when it came to Zemo’s suggestion that he disguise himself as the Winter Soldier. He hadn’t so much as protested when Zemo showed him the outfit he had prepared for him. Unlike Sam, who had provided a running commentary the whole time.
“So you just happened to have these clothes laying around?”, Sam had asked as he held up the red suit jacket.
“I find it useful to be prepared,” Zemo replied. Smiling Tiger’s suit belonged to the man himself, whom Zemo had taken a flight with some years ago. And following the way in which they had decided to pass the long flight, the man had left the suit with him to be dry cleaned.
“Uh-huh,” Sam said, completely unconvinced. “And you just happened to know Bucky’s exact measurements?”
Zemo saw James look up in surprise at the mention of his name. Irritation, confusion. Like someone half-waking from a dream. Followed by a deliberate blankness, as if he was chastising himself for giving so much away. "Hey, I told you don't call me Bucky." Sam just rolled his eyes and ignored him.
“To answer your question Samuel, it was merely an educated guess. Based on outdated measurements."
Of course, Zemo had commissioned it for him when they had begun corresponding via letter in preparation for Zemo’s escape. He had suspected that James missed being the soldier, and what better way to ease him into that role again than to provide him with the appropriate attire? From the way that James was running his hand over the custom leather, Zemo saw that he had been right. This was something that James missed. Perhaps something which he still needed .
Sam tutted at Zemo and shrugged on the suit jacket. “Yeah, this is not my thing.”
Zemo smiled. “Perfect. Then it will make you look less like Sam Wilson.”
James shrugged off his jacket and removed his gloves. When he pulled his hoodie over his head, Zemo couldn’t help staring at the metal of his prosthetic arm. The vibranium moved fluidly with his powerful physique, and Zemo imagined that were James to remove his t-shirt, the black and gold would stand in sharp contrast to his skin.
James caught his eye, and Zemo looked away quickly. He hadn’t intended to show James such unguarded interest, for fear that it would distract him from their objective. What Zemo wanted first and foremost, was to complete their mission. And for that, he needed the Winter Soldier. Not an irate James Barnes who wasn’t sure how to respond to Zemo’s attraction. And it was present, Zemo admitted to himself He couldn't help it. James’s complexity fascinated him.
On his previous mission, he’d wanted to reach inside James and take him apart to discover how he worked. But all he’d wanted to know was whether James was a person, or merely the broken shell of one who would obey his handler’s commands. Zemo knew that trying to fit him into a binary had been reductive, but he still couldn’t bring himself to regret the choices he had made. He’d ended the Avengers, and so completed his mission. And if he wanted to complete this mission, he knew that he would need to treat James as a thing instead of a person once again.
It wasn’t until he’d seen James appear from the bathroom wearing the Winter Soldier’s outfit, that he realized just how fragile and conflicted he had been before. Zemo also realized in that moment that the disguise was as much a necessity for himself as it was for James. Without it, he didn’t think he’d be able to see past James’s humanity.
In the bar, James had made a beautifully lethal weapon. He’d thrown men from him like they were nothing, and had no hesitation about breaking them because of a single word from Zemo’s lips: attack. Such a powerful thing it was, playing a role.
In the present, Zemo touched his throbbing head and saw blood come away on his glove.
Whatever had hit him, it had been hard and his vision was blurry. He struggled to focus on James’s face, but his brow seemed to be even more furrowed than usual.
“Karli,” Zemo managed, his voice coming out as a rasp. “She’s getting away.”
“She's gone,” James replied. “You’ve been out a while- hey, don't move!”
Zemo had attempted to sit up and nearly collapsed with a groan.
“Walker hit you in the head with the shield. Sam thinks you’ve got a concussion.”
Zemo became aware of a pair of raised voices. He recognised John Walker arguing with Sam Wilson, but he couldn’t follow what they were saying. His attention was drawn to a sharp throbbing pain in his wrist, which he must have sustained when he fell.
He closed his eyes, and when he next woke up he was being carried in James’s arms. The man held him close to his chest in a bridal carry.
“Where are you taking me?”, Zemo slurred.
“Back to the apartment,” James answered. “Sam’s meeting us there.”
“No hospital?”
“Not unless we have to. I’m guessing you don’t want that either.”
“No.”
Despite his injuries, he felt safe with James. His wellbeing was the soldier’s mission now. Protect the target. Zemo closed his eyes again. James held him effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing at all. But what Zemo found strange was how gently he held him. That is, until he found himself dumped rather unceremoniously onto a couch.
“Shit. Sorry.” James looked guilty, his eyes traveling over Zemo’s form with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’ve been better,” Zemo said lightly. At least, his vision was no longer blurring.
“I’m gonna get some stuff from the bathroom,” James said. He returned moments later with a first aid kit and pulled on a pair of latex gloves.
“Try and keep your eyes open, okay? I’m gonna check the injury.”
Zemo nodded, and the movement sent pain cascading through his head.
“Hold still.”
This time James touched his neck, he was exceedingly gentle as his fingers examined the muscles and came up to gently cup his head. Despite the injury, the feeling of James' hand in his hair sent a wave of arousal running through him.
Zemo smirked. “Not going to choke me?”
James glared at him, his expression of concern disappearing. Still, he continued to carefully wipe away the blood from the side of Zemo’s head. “Couldn’t help saying it, huh?”
“I am sorry for provoking you,” Zemo admitted. “I just needed to understand what kind of man I was dealing with, for the sake of the mission.”
James huffed in disbelief. “For the mission. Right.”
“Believe what you like, James. It’s the truth.”
“You know, I think I preferred it when you were unconscious. ”
“Does that mean my injuries aren’t serious?”
James pulled back and looked him over. “Wound stopped bleeding pretty quick, and you won’t shut the hell up, so…yeah. Probably not serious.”
“Imagine my relief.”
“Hey,” James said sharply. “Knock it off. We don’t have time for your death wish, Zemo. Karli got away with the serum. We still got a mission to focus on.”
“Mm. Yes, of course.”
Zemo reached up to touch the side of his head, but then his fingers brushed James’s. Instead of recoiling, James kept still and Zemo found himself wrapping his fingers around the other man’s wrist.
James seemed confused by the geseture, but he didn’t withdraw from Zemo’s touch. The way that the man was staring back at him felt so charged with intensity that Zemo thought for a moment that maybe James was going to choke him afterall.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Zemo said, by way of explanation.
“Yeah,” James said, his voice slightly husky. “No problem.”
Then his expression shifted again, and James pulled his hand back. But instead of moving away, he grabbed Zemo’s wrist and turned it so that his palm faced up.
“Your wrist is bleeding,” he said. “When did that happen?”
Zemo followed his gaze to the cut. The wound had clotted, but the blood had soaked through the cuff of his shirt. The only reason that neither of them had noticed was because the color of the fabric had disguised it.
“When I fell, presumably,”
James began carefully wiping away the blood. “It’s not deep, but it looks like there’s some glass in there.”
Zemo felt his heart sink. Glass? Why would there be glass, unless- no. It was unthinkable.
James got up, apparently not following the same thought process as Zemo. “I’ll go grab some tweezers.”
Zemo grabbed his hand, desperation overcoming him. “Wait. James. The serum.”
James frowned, still not following his meaning. “Yeah, Karli has it.”
“No, she dropped some of the vials when I was pursuing her. I smashed them, the serum was on the floor where I fell.”
“You think that-” James broke off, shaking his head. “No, that’s not how it works, Zemo.”
Zemo sat up, and he was alarmed that the movement caused no adverse effects. He had a slight headache, but other than that he felt fine. He should have counted himself lucky to not be seriously injured, but instead he couldn’t help but be alarmed.
“James,” he said again. “I’m being serious. We don’t know how the serum was administered. We assumed it was injected, yes? But what if all that is required is to introduce it into the bloodstream? Nagel bragged that his version of the serum was ‘optimized’. He called it subtle, and made a point of mentioning that it required no equipment to administer.”
“He just meant no bulky machines like they used on Steve,” James said dismissively. “And even if all that’s true, you’d need more than a few drops for it to work.”
“James, there was an entire pool of it on the floor,” Zemo insisted.
“If you’d had the serum, you’d know,” James said darkly. “Believe me.”
Zemo watched as he got up and walked over to the refrigerator. He returned shortly with a packet of frozen peas and handed them to Zemo.
“Here. Put this on your head. I’ll fix your hand.”
Zemo shook his head. “Thank you, but I don’t need it. My head no longer hurts.”
James stared at him, his eyes widening. “That’s- okay, yeah.That’s not normal.” He hesitated. “You’re telling the truth, right? Don’t lie to me about this, Zemo. If you do, I swear I'll-”
“James, look.” Zemo held out his wrist again. The tiny shards of bloody glass were no longer embedded in the wound. They had been pushed out, and were now clinging to the surface of his newly healed skin like dew on the underside of a leaf.
Zemo shook his wrist, and they both watched the fragments of glass fall to the floor like drops of rain.
Chapter Text
For a moment, Bucky saw the Baron’s face frozen in an expression of pure horror. Then he blinked, and it was gone as if it had never been there. It was unsettling, how easy it was for Zemo to do that. Bucky was bad at hiding how he felt these days, and he was almost jealous of Zemo’s ability to camouflage his true feelings. But in this situation, the Baron’s afable expression of mild curiosity was wildly out of place.
Bucky turned away, feeling slightly embarrassed. Having seen the Baron’s guard slip for a moment felt strangely private, and he hoped that Zemo hadn’t noticed him staring. Sure, Bucky stared at people a lot- Sam wasn’t exactly the first person to point that out. But it wasn’t because he was trying to pry into others' business. He just needed to know what they were doing and what they might be about to do, for his own peace of mind. It was exhausting, and sometimes he wished he could just shut his brain off, if only for a moment.
Bucky looked down at the freshly healed wound on Zemo’s wrist and swiped his thumb over it gently, the Baron’s blood staining the white latex of his glove.
“Yeah. It’s completely healed,” he said. “So, I guess you were right. The serum did do something .”
Zemo pulled his hand back from Bucky’s grip and examined it as if it were a foreign object. Bucky watched as Zemo’s thumb traced over the scar on his wrist, and he couldn’t help noticing the momentary flash of disgust across the Baron’s face. But when he spoke, his tone was once again one of forced neutrality.
“Curious…”
Bucky watched as the Baron got up from the couch and walked over to the counter. Bucky followed him over as Zemo poured himself a glass of amber whiskey from the decanter. He turned slightly when Bucky approached him and then as if deciding something, retrieved another tumbler from the cupboard.
He poured the second glass, and handed it to Bucky without asking him whether he even wanted it. Bucky didn’t refuse, just held it and watched as Zemo took a small sip of his own. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed it down, and Bucky noticed that Zemo’s stubble had already started to grow back after he’d shaved that morning. He had the sudden, intrusive thought of holding a razor to Zemo’s throat and making a thin cut to see if it would heal.
Bucky shuddered and swallowed a mouthful of the glass of whiskey that Zemo had poured for him. It tasted like a campfire, and it left him wanting more of its heat.
“So?”, Bucky asked, when Zemo had finished his second glass. “How do you feel?”
Zemo tilted his glass from side to side, watching the drink slosh like liquid amber. “I feel unremarkable, James. I think perhaps I was mistaken.”
Bucky couldn’t believe the Baron trying to downplay what had just happened. He watched as Zemo drained his glass, and then poured himself another. The cool guy act wasn’t exactly convincing. Bucky wanted to snatch the glass from Zemo’s hand but the earlier memory of how he’d lost his temper with the tea restrained him.
“Come on, Zemo. You don’t really think that.”
“I’m not ruling anything out,” the Baron said calmly. “But as I said- I don’t feel any different.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You think people turn evil when they become super soldiers.”
Zemo did the stupid head tilt thing, and Bucky silently cursed Sam for calling it that. Bucky had noticed Zemo doing it before, but now he couldn’t not notice it.
“Evil is subjective. Would Karli have become a killer had she not had the serum?”
Bucky thought about the lives he’d taken when he’d fought in Italy, before he’d been experimented on and given the serum himself. “How do you know she wasn’t already a killer? Serum doesn’t change anything.”
“Perhaps you're right, perhaps not. Regardless, I don’t believe that I am a super soldier.”
“Then let's test it.”
“And how do you propose that we do that?”
“I’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
And it probably was. Zemo thought so little of him that he probably expected Bucky to jump at the chance to inflict physical harm. Or perhaps it was payback for making him play the soldier in Madripoor. The memory of that made him angry, but mostly he felt ashamed because there was a part of him that had wanted it. To be given the excuse to be- not off leash. If anything, the opposite. To be given a mission and someone to give him commands. But now Bucky was the one in control. Not Zemo, and certainly not the Winter Soldier.
“Pick that up,” Bucky said, gesturing to the coffee table in the seating area. It was circular, and made of a heavy grey stone.“If you can. It should take at least three normal men to do it.”
To show the Baron what he meant, he walked over and lifted it over his head. Zemo’s eyes widened slightly at Bucky’s demonstration of strength, but he kept his expression of surprise controlled.
“As you wish.”
Bucky carefully placed the table back down, and moved out of the Baron’s way. He watched as the Baron squatted down next to it and placed a hand on each side. There was effort on his face, and he was clearly trying to lift it. He quickly gave up, and stood up straight with a strange expression that Bucky couldn’t read. It almost looked like disappointment.
“I guess you dodged a bullet, huh?”, Bucky said.
“It would seem so, yes.” Zemo picked up his glass and walked over to the couch. “In fact, I think I will lie here for a while. I am still a little dizzy.”
“Drunk more like.”
“Barely tipsy,” Zemo insisted. “Perhaps whiskey was unwise with a head injury, but well…”
He trailed off, as if he didn’t need to justify himself to Bucky.
Bucky shook his head in frustration. Walker hitting Zemo in the head, Zemo narrowly avoiding brain damage, Zemo nearly turning into a super soldier- why did everything have to revolve around the Baron? It seemed as if Zemo had made everything about himself from the moment Bucky had first seen him in that cell. Sure, Sam was on the mission with them too, but sometimes it felt like it was just himself and the Baron.
“Whatever,” he said. “You can do what you like, Zemo. It’s your house.”
“Hardly what I like. “I am your prisoner, James.”
“You sound bitter.”
“Wouldn’t you be, if you were a prisoner in your own home?”
Bucky scoffed. “You should see my apartment back in New York.”
“Should I?” There was that stupid head tilt again. Dammit Sam.
“Er…I mean,” Bucky faltered. He shouldn’t have said that. He didn't want the Baron making him into his confidant. That was just another way for Zemo to worm his way into his brain. But already he felt like the Baron’s eyes were drawing him, and he forced himself to look away.
“I get what it's like, is all.”
“And what is it like, James?”, Zemo asked.
Bucky sighed. Were they really doing this? Drinking and talking, like they weren’t enemies forced to work together because they shared the same objective?
“It’s like I’m a ghost,” Bucky found himself saying. He looked around at the apartment. Sunlight was filtering through the red and yellow of the stained glass, falling onto the opulent tile of the floor. Despite the luxurious furnishings, the room was completely empty of personal effects. No family photographs decorating the end tables, no coats in the entryway. No children’s toys scattered across the carpet. Bucky realized that he wasn’t the only ghost in the room.
He watched Zemo take another sip of whiskey and mirrored his actions. “I walk all the time in the city,” Bucky went on. “No one sees me. No one knows who I am. If I cover my arm, I can disappear into a crowd.”
“Is that what you desire, James?”, Zemo asked, his voice growing husky with whiskey, thickening his Sokovian accent.
Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “What I…what?”
“You desire,” Zemo repeated. “To disappear. Perhaps, into the role of the Winter Soldier?”
Bucky made a disgusted noise. Of course. That was all the Baron wanted. For him to admit that he wanted to be the soldier again. That’s where Zemo had been leading the conversation this whole time, and Bucky felt like an idiot for not realizing sooner.
“Fuck you, Zemo.” Bucky got up and went over to the door. “I’m going after Walker.”
“I apologize if I offended you, James,” Zemo said. He didn’t get up from the couch or even raise his voice, but Bucky heard him all the same. “That was not my intention.”
“Just stay out of my head, and we won’t have a problem.” He pulled the door open so that the sunlight streamed in. “And be happy you’re not a super soldier."
*
When James was gone, Zemo set the glass of whiskey back on the coffee table. Then he quickly went over to the front door and bolted it. James had made the mistake of leaving him alone. That had gone even better than he’d intended. He thought perhaps James might have left the room if he made him uncomfortable, but to have him leave the flat entirely…
He went to the bathroom and opened the drain cover. The fit would be tight. After so many years confined to a cell, he wasn’t as lean as he used to be. But, it would still serve as an escape route. Zemo paused for a moment and considered the facts, unwilling to rush into a course of action hastily. A wave of dread had washed over him as soon as he’d placed his hands on the coffee table, because he’d realized that he could have lifted it. Perhaps not as easily as James, but he could have done it nonetheless.
Despite his initial slip, he seemed to have fooled James into thinking that the serum hadn’t had any effect on him beyond healing his wounds. But as good as Zemo was at keeping up a pretense, he doubted even he could do it indefinitely with James watching him like a hawk.
Zemo heard a bang on the door. The front door, not the bathroom. And then Sam’s voice calling for James to open it. Time was running out, and he had to make a decision.
Zemo hesitated for a second, and then closed the drain cover and went to let him in. “Apologies for keeping you waiting on the doorstep, Samuel.”
Sam looked surprised to see him, and then immediately suspicious. “Where’s Bucky?”
Zemo glanced past him. “I believe that James left to do surveillance on Walker.”
“And he left you alone?”
Zemo smiled slightly. “I was hardly going to run away, with Karli still out there and no leads as to her whereabouts.”
“Oh yeah? Then quit eyeing up the door,” Sam said, locking it behind him. Zemo noticed that he took the key from the lock and pocketed it. “At least you’re feeling better.”
Zemo walked back over to the couch and lay back down. “Hardly. Though, I don’t have a concussion as you seem to think.”
“Huh. Well, I’m no expert. Guess I made a mistake.” Zemo watched as the other man walked over to the table and opened his laptop. “At least Walker didn’t hit you as hard as I thought.”
Zemo grimaced. “He was hardly gentle. I think it wise that James is keeping a close eye on him.”
He placed the towel over his eyes to prove his point, and cradled the whiskey in his hands.
“You shouldn’t be drinking that,” Sam pointed out. “It could be dangerous.”
Zemo chuckled. “That’s the least of my concerns, Samuel.”
“Well, it’ll be your fault if we have to haul your ass to the hospital.”
Zemo didn’t respond to him. Instead, he closed his eyes and sipped his drink while he waited for James to return. He wanted to see if James would tell Sam what had happened to him. He needed to know that Sam Wilson wouldn’t suspect anything either, before he made his escape. His original plan had been to promptly leave the apartment, return to the plane and chart a course to what remained of his homeland. The serum hadn’t changed that, only his desire to evade capture by the authorities. He had overheard Sam discussing the case of Isaiah Bradley with James during the flight from Madripoor. He knew the details of James’s treatment by HYDRA, and of how the US authorities had tested Steve Roger’s abilities before they’d sent him out into the world. And then there were the failed test subjects in Siberia.
No, Zemo had no desire to be the latest in a long line of super soldier experiments. He wouldn’t permit anyone to capture him: he would destroy himself before he allowed that to happen. A single bullet would do it. Afterall, it had been his intention all along to end things that way.
But not until he had completed his mission. Zemo took another sip of his drink and allowed the alcohol to numb him to the reality of what was happening to him. The thought of being invaded by something which was everything he stood against utterly disgusted him. He could almost feel it traveling through his bloodstream, contaminating his cells, taking him over. The idea that anyone could truly desire this, that they would actually volunteer to become an inhuman thing separate from humanity, was beyond the scope of his understanding.
Meanwhile, Sam was tapping away at his laptop, unaware of what was going through Zemo’s mind. So much the better.
“Were you ever offered it?”, Zemo asked. “The serum.”
He was genuinely curious to know the answer. And it would perhaps give him some indication of how Sam would react if James confessed to him that Zemo had been exposed to the serum. Would he take him into custody and hand him over to US military, or the CIA? He knew that was what John Walker would do, without hesitation.
“No,” Sam replied, slightly annoyed at Zemo’s interruption.
“If you had been, hypothetically that is, would you have taken it?”
“No.”
“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”
Good. Then they were on the same page with regards to the serum, at least.
Zemo removed the cloth from his eyes with a sigh. “Sam. You can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her. She’s gone, and we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”
“Isn’t that how gods talk?”, Sam countered. “And if that’s how you feel, what about bucky? Blood isn’t always the solution.”
The man made a good point. James Barnes was not a supremacist, of that Zemo was certain. He hadn’t sought to take the serum- it had been forced upon him. He was a super soldier, yes. But not by choice. But did that absolve him entirely?
Zemo ran a thought experiment, imagining a worst case scenario where HYDRA succeeded in taking control of the world, as he knew was their end goal. In that reality, a man such as Steve Rogers or John Walker would reign supreme, embodying the ideals of the new world order. James would never seek that glory and could never fulfill the ideal of physical perfection, given the injuries that he had sustained. No, he would become a tool of the regime, albeit a specialized one. It wasn’t in his nature to command others. At his core, James was a follower. One who had turned his back on authority, but who still craved the simplicity of being given orders to follow. But that alone was not enough to condemn him. Perhaps Samuel was correct that blood was not always the solution.
It was James himself who interrupted Zemo’s thoughts. He heard his footsteps coming up the stairs to the apartment, though it seemed that Sam was unaware of James’ approach until he opened the door.
“Something’s not right about Walker,” James said darkly as he pulled off his jacket.
“You don’t say,” Sam said wryly, not looking up from his laptop.
Zemo watched as James went to the cabinet and took out another decanter of whiskey. “Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”
Zemo frowned slightly. James said it lightly, but Zemo could tell that there was a deep well of self loathing just below the surface. It made him want to tell James that there was no shame in having survived what he had. More than that, Zemo wanted to show him that there was no need to feel guilty for having been conditioned to desire a firm hand.
He thought about Madripoor, the sway of James’s broad shoulders as he walked. He moved like a tiger stalking its prey, grace and sleekness concealing the roll of powerful muscles. There had been a moment on the street where James had stopped in front of one of the neon lit window brothels. Zemo had watched him standing there, green light from the sign above making him look like a zombie. Rather than staring at the naked women beckoning from behind the glass, he stared as if half dead into the darkness beyond the doorway.
Zemo had approached him, before Sam could call James back and break their cover. He’d moved slowly, approaching James from the front so as not to startle him. James allowed him to get close, aware of Zemo’s presence though the majority of his attention had wandered elsewhere. Once he was close enough, Zemo leaned in close and whispered in his ear a small reminder that he needed to bring him back to the mission at hand.
“Soldat,” he said gently. “Obrashchat vnimaniye.”
James exhaled sharply, his attention pulled to Zemo’s face almost against his will. James met his gaze, and Zemo saw the desperation of a drowning man in his blue eyes. Glimpsing the ghosts inside James stirred the darkness within Zemo’s soul. He wanted to rip and tear and make bloody whoever it was that had hurt him like that. And at the same time, Zemo found himself softening towards the broken man who was rapidly becoming his exception to everything.
“I know this place.” James' voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I remember…”
Zemo noticed his eyes beginning to glaze over again, and firmly grabbed the back of James’s harness in order to ground him. James gasped slightly, his eyes refocusing on Zemo’s face. Zemo saw surprise there, followed by relief. James was grateful to him for bringing him back. And then, inevitably, there was a flash of anger. Disappointing, but not unexpected.
“Pay attention, Soldier,” Zemo repeated, once again issuing the command in Russian. “Do as I say, and follow my orders.”
James gritted his teeth, nodded once, and didn’t protest when Zemo steered him away from the building and back in the direction that they were headed.
*
When John Walker came crashing into the apartment building demanding to take custody of Zemo, Bucky wasn’t particularly surprised. Walker was unstable, that much was obvious. Bucky had known that as soon as he’d seen him standing over Zemo with the shield after knocking him unconscious. Zemo was just a regular human, what the hell had Walker been thinking throwing it at his head? Luckily there was no lasting damage, but he didn’t put it past Walker not to try a stunt like that again.
Bucky moved around the counter, carrying the glass decanter with him like he was going to pour himself another drink. One smash, and it could become a weapon if he needed it to be. Zemo walked across the room towards him, taking himself out of Walker’s line of sight. Bucky noticed that he’d also picked up a decanter, clearly thinking the same thing as himself.
Walker was arguing with Sam, and Bucky knew that there was no use pointing out that Karli and the others had escaped with the serum. They needed Zemo, if they were going to hunt them down. But Walker had already made up his mind about what was going to happen here. Apparently, he was done trying to be buddies with Cap’s old pals. Now he wanted to prove something, even if it was only that he could win against them in a fight. Bucky sighed. The hot-tempered, impulsive side of his nature (the side that made him quarrel with Sam and throw tea cups at Zemo) wanted him to fight Walker. It wanted to force Walker to acknowledge that he wasn’t Steve, wasn’t even a super soldier. He was just a guy in a suit.
But that would be a mistake. He could beat Walker easily, even without Sam’s help. Everyone in the room knew that, except apparently Walker whose arrogance was bordering on delusion. Bucky wondered why Hoskins didn’t say something to Walker, like he had the first time they’d met. Even back then, Walker had been ready to throw down. There was no way he should have been cleared for active duty. What the hell had his C.O. been thinking?
It wasn’t that Bucky particularly cared about Zemo. Hell, he’d be glad to see the back of the man once they’d completed the mission. But there was no way in hell he was letting Walker get his hands on him. Then Walker threw a left hook at Sam, and things got crazy.
Sam didn’t get his hands up in time, and the blow collided hard with his jaw. Bucky moved fast. Sam wasn’t wearing his wings, and he wasn’t about to let his friend take a shield to the face. But Zemo moved faster. He was closer to Sam, who’d staggered back when Walker’s fist connected and he grabbed the shield before Walker could raise it.
Walker was surprised, and then his face filled with rage. He tried to tug it out of Zemo’s grip, and when he couldn’t, he hit Zemo in the face. But Zemo didn’t even seem to notice the blow, and held onto the shield. With one hand.
He lied about the serum , Bucky realized. Because of course he did. It was Zemo. But there was no time to think about that now.
Bucky tried to grab Walker from behind, but the man kicked out and caught him off balance.
All of this had taken less than a second, and Sam was still reeling from the blow to his head.
Seeing that Bucky was going for Walker, Hoskins jumped in too. Bucky pushed the man back, trying to keep control on his strength so that he wouldn’t do something he’d regret. He was aware of Sam engaging Hoskins, and turned his attention back to Walker.
Zemo was taking blow after blow to the face from Walker, but he wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t even bring his other hand up to defend himself, almost like he wanted to see how much damage he could take. There was blood streaming from his nose, but he was grinning which only seemed to infuriate Walker more.
Then Zemo tugged the shield from his grip, and threw it in an attempt to get it away from Walker. Unfortunately, he wasn’t familiar with the weapon and hadn’t anticipated the rebound. The shield hit one of the pillars and ricocheted, forcing Zemo to jump aside as it came back to him. Walker however, was ready for it and caught the shield triumphantly. Then before Bucky could stop him, he hurled it at Zemo’s chest.
The momentum threw Zemo through the stained glass window behind him, which exploded into shards of coloured light.
Bucky used the moment to tackle Walker to the ground. “Stay down,” he growled as the man struggled against. “Stay the hell down, Walker. Don’t make me break your arm.”
“Do it!”, Walker snarled. “I know you want to! You’re all in this together! You wanted the serum, for yourself! Did you take it too, Wilson? Huh?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Sam panted. “All I know is you just threw the shield at Zemo and he went out the window!”
“John.”
It was Hoskins' voice. He’d stopped fighting against Sam when the window had smashed. Now he laid a hand on Walker’s shoulder, and the other man stopped struggling in Bucky’s grip.
“John, it’s over, man. Give it up.”
The words seemed to register and Walker nodded slightly, then relaxed in Bucky’s grip. Bucky released him and rushed over to the window.
He half expected Zemo to have used the opportunity to make a break for it, but he was just laying on the ground where he had fallen. For a moment Bucky feared that he was dead, but then he watched as the man picked himself up and began dusting himself off.
Bucky jumped down and landed next to him on the cobblestones.
“Oh, hello James,” Zemo said nonchalantly, as if they were two friends who had just happened to run into one another on the street. Bucky watched as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping the blood from his face.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Zemo?”
The man shrugged. “It seems that I am less breakable than I had previously thought.”
I’ll show you breakable , Bucky thought. He watched as the man carelessly picked a piece of glass from his hair.
“And I believe that the person you should be addressing that question to is John Walker,” Zemo said. “He’s the one that attacked Sam, afterall. No need to thank me, by the way.”
Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the gathering crowd of onlookers. “That’s all the thanks you’re getting. Great job hiding your strength, by the way. What was that, an hour?”
“It’s hardly my fault that I was thrown through a window, James. That stained glass was a work of art. It will be very costly to replace.”
“We’ve got bigger fish to fry, Zemo.”
Bucky saw Ayo staring at him from amongst the crowd. She strode towards him like she was stalking her prey.
“Much bigger fish.”
Chapter Text
“What the hell’s going on?”, Sam demanded, when they returned to the apartment escorted by the Dora Milaje.
The first thing Zemo noticed was that Walker and Hoskins had thankfully made themselves scarce. The room was less of a disaster than he’d expected, with the exception of the broken window through which he’d been thrown. When the shield had hit him, the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. Then the window shattered, but the glass had brushed his skin as gently as a spider's web. For a moment it seemed to Zemo that he’d hung suspended in the air surrounded by coloured light, before the ground had come rushing up to meet him. The impact hadn’t been painful, exactly. It was more of a shock, like falling backwards off a chair.
Zemo noticed that James’s whole demeanour had changed as soon as the warrior Ayo had approached them in the street. Zemo was unfamiliar with her reputation, but it seemed that she and James had a personal history of which he was unaware. It was interesting how James was considerably less surly when addressing her that he was with anyone else that Zemo has seen him interact with. Even more intriguing, he seemed to submit to her will without protest.
James had been trailing slightly behind them, but now he walked over to where Sam was standing next to the window.
“Zemo got the serum,” James said. “Back at the warehouse.”
Sam’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “He took it?”
James shook his head slightly. “No. When he fell, some of it got into his blood.”
“Can it work like that?”
James sighed as if he was very tired all of a sudden. “I don’t know, Sam. It looks like it. We don’t know much about Nagel’s version.”
Sam turned to face Zemo. “Well maybe if someone hadn’t killed him.”
“Allegedly,” Zemo said, holding up a finger to interrupt.
“As I was saying, if Zemo hadn’t killed him before we could get more information, maybe we’d know how it actually works.”
“Someone fired an RPG at the lab,” James pointed out. “Which means the Power Broker wanted Nagel dead before he fell into the wrong hands. Karli already stole the serum from him, he wasn’t gonna make the same mistake twice.”
Sam looked at James in disbelief. “I’m sorry, are you actually defending Zemo?”
Zemo was surprised as Sam was to hear the words come out his mouth.
James shrugged. “Just telling it like it is. Nagel was a dead man as soon as we entered that lab. Doesn’t matter who killed him.”
“ Doesn’t matter? ” Sam shook his head in disappointment. “You know, sometimes I seriously question your judgment, Buck.”
“Don’t call me that,” James grumbled.
“White Wolf. Sam Wilson,” Ayo said, sliding into the conversation like a stiletto blade between the ribs. “If you two are finished bickering like a pair of schoolboys, there are more important matters to discuss.”
“White wolf?”, Sam. “You weren’t kidding about the code name, huh?”
James shook his head at him to indicate that now was not the time. “So what happens now?”
“You honoured our agreement to hand Zemo over,” Ayo answered coolly. “We had orders to take him to the RAFT, but now I must inform our king of the developments here. While I do so, you will remain here with the Dora Milaje.” She nodded curtly to indicate the other three women who accompanied her.
“Now wait a minute,” Sam protested. “You can’t just come in here and decide that’s what’s gonna happen. You ain’t got that right to just-”
Ayo stepped closer to him, her voice quiet and deadly. “I have every right, Sam Wilson. This man murdered my king. He is my prisoner, and he will be dealt with as we see fit.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said calmly, standing his ground. “It’s just that we still need his help. I don’t know how much Bucky’s told you, but Karli Morgenthau’s still out there somewhere and she’s got the serum. She’s gonna use it to make more supersoldiers, and I’m guessing your king doesn’t want that any more than we do.”
Ayo seemed to consider this for a moment, before she tutted in irritation and turned away from him as if it wasn’t worth her time. “You will remain here,” she repeated.
She approached Zemo and said something in Wakandan to one of his guards, who smirked in response. Zemo tried to appear unphased, but inside he was shaken. Being sent to the RAFT while Karli remained free to create more super soldiers would be the worst possible outcome. Following their earlier conversation, he knew that he could not rely on Sam Wilson to do what needed to be done. He saw a softness in the girl that the world had ground out of her, leaving her hard and capable of violence. James had no such illusions about her, but he lacked the motivation to follow through. If the trail went cold, he’d likely return to New York to continue living his ghostly half-life.
Worse still, if he was sent to the RAFT, Zemo knew that he would fall into the hands of the organization known as the JTTF, that shadowy branch of the CIA formerly operated by Agent Ross. He had been held in their custody before, following his attack on the UN. He didn’t like to dwell on that time, nor their interrogation methods. Incarceration in Berlin had felt like a holiday after being kept in a box with his ankles shackled to a metal chair.
But it wasn’t his personal safety that concerned him at this moment. Now that he had been contaminated with the serum, they would use him as a test subject in attempts to recreate it.
That much, he was certain of. And under no circumstances could he allow that to happen. That left him with only one course of action. Escape.
“Could I perhaps use the bathroom?”, Zemo asked.
His guards ignored him.
“I don’t wish to bother you,” he continued. “It’s only that I was just thrown from a window and I fear I may have had an…accident. I would hate to board a plane with you while I am in such a state.”
The two women exchanged looks of disgust, and then as one they led him over to the door that he indicated.
One examined the room briefly, taking note of the small window which was too small for him to fit through.
“We will wait outside,” she told him.
Zemo smiled at her. “That is very considerate of you.”
She did not smile back.
Zemo closed the door, but did not lock it. He knew better than to arouse their suspicions. Instead, he turned on both the taps in the sink. The noise covered the sound of him removing the cover of the circular drain in the floor, which led to the sewers below Riga.
It was a tight fit, but he managed to wriggle through the narrow opening and quickly began his descent into the shaft. There were iron rungs set into the wall and he climbed down quickly, but once he was far enough not to be heard, he let himself drop the rest of the way. He would still have attempted the maneuver had he not had serum coursing through his blood, but with it the drop was effortless and he landed on his feet like a cat. Then he ran without hesitation, faster than he had thought possible, as far as the tunnel would take him.
By the time he reached the edge of the city, he had barely even broken a sweat. It disturbed him, how easy his escape had been and the knowledge of that only redoubled his resolution not to let Karli create any more super soldiers.
Just like me, Zemo thought, as he climbed out of the hole in the ground.
He was one of them now.
*
Ten minutes after Zemo had gone into the bathroom, the guards opened the door to find him gone. Needless to say, Ayo wasn’t happy.
“Do you know where he’s gone, James?”, she demanded, straight to the point as always.
Bucky shook his head. “Honestly, no clue.”
She stared at him for a moment, assessing whether or not he was lying. The intensity reminded Bucky of the way that Zemo tried to read him.
Ayo seemed satisfied with whatever she found there, because she turned away from him. “If we must, we will hunt him to the ends of the earth,” she said. “It would be best if you stayed away from Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf.”
Bucky nodded. He understood that. He’d cooperated, sure. But they both knew that he’d been involved in breaking Zemo out of prison, and the Wakandans couldn’t overlook that.
After they left, Bucky sank back onto the sofa with a groan. He was tired. He wanted to sleep, but he knew that Walker was still out there hunting Karli. He was gonna get someone killed. Probably himself. After how he’d acted earlier, Bucky had half a mind to let it play out, but he knew that Sam would never forgive himself if they just sat by and did nothing.
Sam was gearing up to go already, and Bucky knew that he should follow suit. But after the last few days, he was in no shape to take on four supersoldiers and deal with Walker and Hoskins getting in the way. If he was tired, his control could slip and he’d end up hurting someone. The problem was, Sam didn’t seem to realize that and Bucky didn’t know how to explain it to him without sounding like he was complaining. Or like he was dangerously out of control.
He wasn’t, Bucky reassured himself. He just needed some sleep. He barely got any z’s these days as it was. Sleep deprivation hadn’t been a problem when he’d been under HYDRA’s command. He’d slept well back then, dosed up on whatever drugs they decided to give him. They took good care of their weapon, to ensure that he stayed sharp. But now, he felt like an old, blunt knife that someone had been left to rust in the back of a drawer.
He also didn’t like that Sam didn’t have a plan about what they were gonna do when they found Karli. She’d left him a message by threatening Sam’s family. Now Sam was on the warpath, and nothing Bucky said could dissuade him that this was a bad idea.
“You’re going in hot,” Bucky said again.
“I know,” Sam answered, finishing adjusting the straps on his wings. “You keep saying that, but I’m still going.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“You keep saying that too. But Karli threatened my nephews. She made it personal.”
Bucky sighed. He wanted to sink into the couch and sleep, but he forced himself to get up. He needed quick energy, so he went over to the cupboard and grabbed a carton of long-life milk and a bunch of cookies that he found stashed there.
“Need some energy,” he admitted, “I’m kind of tapped out.”
Sam paused in his preparations to look at him. From the way his face fell slightly, Bucky knew that he looked worn out. “You should have said something.”
“There wasn’t time.”
Bucky began unwrapping a packet of and chewing the cookies down as quickly as he could. When he was fighting, he burned through a lot of calories and he hadn’t been eating enough the last few days.
“Hey, slow down there,” Sam said. “We can wait half an hour if you need to refuel.”
“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled through a mouthful. He forced himself to swallow and then followed it up with a swig of milk. “That would be good. I don’t really wanna chug this. The preserved stuff is gross.”
Sam frowned at him, but his expression was a lot softer than it had been a few minutes ago.
“You don’t have to- look, just make some eggs or something, okay?”
Bucky shrugged. “Sure. If you think we’ve got time.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, checking the device on his wrist. “We do. You’re right, I was going in hot. I need to cool off, anyway.”
They had a few supplies left in the fridge, and Bucky got to work on a pan of scrambled eggs.
“I know you told the Dora you didn’t know where Zemo went,” Sam said, coming over to sit at the island counter. “But do you?”
Bucky hesitated, and then shook his head. “He’ll stick around here as long as Karli does. He’ll try and get to her. He’ll still want to put an end to super soldiers, even now he’s had the serum.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure,” Bucky insisted. “He’s not gonna let this stop him.”
“But if he’s a super soldier now, don’t you think that’s gonna make him see things differently?”
“No. Maybe someone else would, but not Zemo. He won’t see it as a contradiction like a sane person would. He’s just gonna see it as more proof that the serum shouldn’t exist.”
“So, you don’t think he’s gonna be corrupted by it?”
Bucky laughed humorlessly. “You sound like him. That’s not how it works, Sam.”
“So, how does it work?”
Bucky plated up his food and stood leaning against the counter. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, does it change you?”
Bucky hesitated, fork halfway to his mouth. “I wanna say no.” He said eventually. “Not as a person. But it does change things.” He took another mouthful of eggs and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t really remember what it was like before, but now it’s like…like I’m trying not to step on a bunch of ants, or something.”
Sam blinked at him. “You see people like they’re ants?”
“No, it’s not like that,” Bucky said quickly. “I don’t think I'm better than anyone. If anything, I'm worth less than normal people. What I mean is, the world’s just so…fragile. I gotta be careful all the time, so I don’t break stuff. So I don't hurt anyone.”
Sam looked thoughtful as he took in what Bucky had just said. “So what you’re saying is, someone who had a superiority complex before they got the serum…would step on the ants?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Yeah,” Sam said grimly. “That’s what I thought. You’ve noticed Zemo’s massive ego, right?”
Bucky shook his head. “I know what you’re saying, but he hates super soldiers Sam.
He’s not about to go on a rampage through the city because he’s drunk with power, or something.”
“I guess we’ll see. If he does, it’ll be on us to stop him. You ready for that?”
This time, it was Bucky’s turn to be surprised. “Yeah. Why’d you say it like that?”
Sam shrugged. “You just seemed to be taking this kind of personal, is all.”
“You told me not to let him get in my head,” Bucky said curtly. “So I didn’t.”
“Okay, sure. I just meant, I thought the two of you were….”
“What?”
Sam groaned. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
Bucky stared at him with absolutely no idea what he meant. “Say what Sam?”
Sam shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Fine. I guess I’m gonna have to be the grown up here. I just meant, I thought the two of you were involved.”
“Involved? As in…?”
“As in you were fucking,” Sam said bluntly.
Bucky stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Sam didn’t join in.
When Bucky calmed down, he said. “That’s crazy, Sam. I’d never, we’d never- he’s not even gay. You know he was married, right? He had a kid?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s not how it works.”
“Why would you even think that we-” Bucky put a hand over his mouth to stop the hysteria bubbling up inside him again. It wasn’t funny , but the idea was just so unthinkable to him that it became ridiculous.
“Okay, so I got it wrong,” Sam conceded. “It’s just all the stuff you were saying about him just now. Like you really had an insight into him. And there was this weird energy between you the last few days. The tension between you two was crazy.”
Bucky smiled wryly. “That was just me trying not to murder him, Sam.”
“Okay then, what about the harness?” Sam insisted. “The one you were wearing in Madripoor?”
“Harness? That was just part of my disguise.”
“Come on, man. You know as well I do that it had no tactical use.”
Bucky crossed his arms in front of himself defensively. “I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.”
Sam sighed in frustration. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is. Hell, no one does because you keep your cards so close to your chest. But what I do know is that Zemo’s not straight, and I just figured there was something going on between the two of you, that’s all. But you’ve made it pretty clear there’s not, so let's just forget about it. No big deal.”
There was an awkward silence, and then Bucky asked. “So…how do you know Zemo’s gay? I ain’t got a problem with it, I just don’t get it.”
Sam sighed again, as if the conversation was making him tired. “I just do.”
“But how? I mean, I’m straight, you’re straight and-”
“I’m gay, Buck,” Sam interrupted. “Very much not straight. You gonna be weird about that too? Cos it’s been a long day, and if you’ve got a problem with it I’m gonna leave and you can sit here and eat your damn eggs.”
Bucky was taken aback by that. “You’re…okay, yeah. That’s cool. I guess I just assumed.”
“Everybody does. Kind of comes with the whole ‘southern guy in the Air Force’ thing. As if there ain’t any queers below the Mason-Dixon line.”
Bucky didn’t know what to say to that. Like he’d told Sam, he didn’t have a problem with people being gay. But the idea that Sam was had thrown him for a loop.
“So is that how you can tell that Zemo likes guys?”, he said eventually.
Sam raised his eyebrows at him meaningfully. “Nah. Apparently my gaydar’s kind of busted.”
“Your what?”
Sam rolled his eyes at him. “I just meant, I thought he might be queer but I wasn’t gonna assume. He’s a rich European asshole and they’re all kinds of flashy. But then I saw him making out with a guy at Sharon’s party, so I figured I was right.”
Bucky frowned. “Huh. That’s weird.”
“Weird?”
“No- not weird!” Bucky said quickly. “I just meant- it’s good that you guys can be open these days, right?”
Sam looked at him skeptically. “Uh-huh. Not like back in your day.”
Bucky shook his head, unsure of what Sam was getting at. He didn’t want his friend thinking that he was prejudiced, because he wasn’t. He really didn’t care if people were gay. It wasn’t any of his business what two consenting adults did in private.
“Not exactly,” he said. “It just wasn’t something people could be open about back then. Sure, everyone has thoughts about other guys sometimes. But back then it would be crazy to actually…I mean, it’s not like normal people would act on it, you know? You’d lose your job if anyone found out. No one would wanna associate with you. Besides, it was illegal. If you got caught, you could do time for messing around with another guy. I don’t think I even saw two guys hold hands until a couple of months ago. They were just walking down the street in Brooklyn in broad daylight, like it was no big deal. Kind of blew my mind.”
He stopped talking, and Sam just stared at him with an expression of disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“What?”, Bucky asked. “I was just surprised, is all. But it was kinda nice. They seemed happy.”
“That’s not what I- okay, look we don’t have time to get into this right now. But we’re gonna talk about this again after we’ve dealt with Karli, alright?”
“Sure Sam,” Bucky said, setting his empty plate down on the counter. “Whatever you want. I’m ready to go now.”
“You sure?”
Bucky nodded, getting up. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He hesitated as he walked past Sam and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Thanks for telling me, you know?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem. Now are we doing this mission, or what?”
*
Bucky had a feeling the mission was gonna go south before they’d even started out. But he hadn’t expected it to go as badly as it had. They’d lost Karli, who still had the serum.
Hoskins was dead. Walker was also a supersoldier now and he’d…
Again, Bucky saw the man standing there surrounded by civilians, his shield splattered with blood. He’d witnessed a lot of things in his long life, but that wasn’t something that he was going to forget any time soon. Even the Winter Soldier would have balked at decapitating a man in the middle of a public square. It wasn’t right. None of this was. God, he was so tired. Of course, Zemo was still nowhere to be found. Bucky had half expected him to show up when they found Karli. Maybe jumping down from a balcony, and blowing them all to hell like he had in Madripoor. No such luck.
Sam had just finished talking with his superiors, some kind of debrief. Bucky had ducked out of the room until they’d gone. Walker had caused a major international incident, and he was going to be court martialed. Bucky figured it was for the best. Sam should never have given away the shield, and no one should have given it to John Walker. He shouldn’t even have been in the field if he was going to pull a stunt like that.
Sam and Torres were talking about getting a flight back to the US the next day.
“Are you coming too?”, Sam asked. “Or are you going after Zemo?”
Bucky hesitated, because he didn’t know if he could trust Torres enough to speak openly.
“I’m not going back to the US yet,” he said after a moment. “I just need somewhere to stay tonight. Can’t exactly go back to the apartment.”
“Well, they’ve booked us a hotel room-” Sam began.
Bucky let out sighed in relief. “Great, ‘cos I’m dead on my feet. Feel like I could sleep for about a week.”
Sam frowned. “Oh…okay, yeah I guess there's room on the couch. But if you snore I’m throwing your ass out.
”Torres turned to Sam. “Wait- he’s staying in our room?”
“I guess so.”
Bucky looked at the two men. They seemed kind of familiar with each other, and he’d said ‘our room’ like they were…wait were they? Was this Sam’s boyfriend? Shit. He’d put his foot in his mouth again.
“Hey, you know what? Don’t worry about it,” Bucky said quickly. “I don’t wanna crash. Plus, I get nightmares sometimes so I kind of need space, you know?”
Sam smiled, putting his arm around the other man’s shoulder. “Thanks. I think someone mentioned a spare room at the hotel, so maybe you can grab that before someone else takes it?”
Bucky looked around again to check that they were alone. He was feeling kind of jumpy after everything that had happened with Walker, and he really didn’t think that he could handle being interrogated by any of the higher ups right now just because he needed a place to stay.
“Uh…that’s okay,” he mumbled. “I’ll just…see how much I’ve got in my account this month. Figure I can just sleep on a park bench or something if I’m running low.”
“Hey man, let me deal with it”, Torres said. “I’m sure I can find you something.”
“You sure?”
Torres nodded. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I’ll see what I can do.”
Sam smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. Bucky wondered if they were allowed to do that here. Sure, it was just the three of them right now but there were a bunch of military personnel around, and someone could walk in at any time. He didn’t want them to get in trouble. But he guessed Sam knew better than him what was okay.
“Hey, you wanna grab something to eat?”, Sam asked.
Bucky nodded, realizing that he’d started spacing out again. He hadn’t even noticed the other man leave the room. “Don’t you wanna wait for Torres?”
“Joachím’s gotta work,” Sam said, leading them out of the room. “And you look like you could use a break.”
“Yeah, I'm crashing,” Bucky said. “That fight with Walker really took it out of me. You know, I think I got electrocuted?” He shrugged his left arm loosely. “Messed up the ol’ circuits. I’m still getting a delay.”
“Want me to take a look at it?” Sam offered. “I’m good with tech.”
Bucky chuckled. “No way. This is my arm we’re talking about, not your annoying little bird friend.”
“Hey, leave redwing out of this!”
“Whatever, Sam. I’m not giving you my arm.”
“You know I saw you put it in the dishwasher in the back at the safehouse, right? That’s probably what messed it up.”
“It’s the easiest way to clean it!” Bucky protested.
“You put it in with the dirty dishes. That’s nasty .”
“Hey, don’t judge me. At least I shower. You stink, Sam.”
“Fine. I’ll go shower before we grab food. And you can fall asleep on the couch while you’re waiting for your room.”
Bucky did just that, but instead of the soft couch he opted for the carpet covering the floor of Sam’s hotel room. It was a pretty fancy room, much nicer than Bucky could afford. He managed to sleep until Sam nudged him awake with his foot.
“You sure you wanna go out?”, his friend asked.
Bucky sat up slowly. “Not really. But we gotta eat, right?”
“We can get take out. I’m beat too. And Joachím just texted me to say you’ve got the room down the hall. You can pick up the key card from the front desk.”
Bucky lay back down on the floor. “Great. Tell him thanks.”
“Will do.”
“You know, it’s nice you’ve got someone Sam.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “It is. You should try dating.”
Bucky laughed humorlessly. “I have. Dating these days is…complicated.”
“Tell me about it. What app are you using?”
“I’m not. I tried a few, but…” he shrugged. “Guess I’m just old fashioned.”
They ordered noodles. The food wasn’t good, but Bucky wasn’t about to complain because Sam was the one paying. In fact, Sam was the only one of them getting paid for the mission they’d just done. Bucky was just barely avoiding prison. The evidence for Zemo’s escape from Berlin was circumstantial, and the higher ups were willing to look the other way- for the moment. But they both knew that could change if Bucky started to become a problem.
“So…about what you said before,” Sam began. “About the 40s. You said something like, ‘everyone has thoughts about other guys, they just don’t act on it’.”
Bucky nodded. “Yeah, back in the day. But people have more freedom now, at least back in New York.”
“People, huh?”
Sam was staring at him meaningfully again, like he was trying to tell him something. Then he sighed and set his box of noodles down on the table. “Okay, lemme put it this way: straight guys aren’t sitting around thinking about other guys like that. They’re not trying to suppress it, because they don’t have to. Those kind of thoughts don’t even occur to them.”
“How do you know? You’re not psychic.”
“I just mean, if they’re attracted to men then they’re not straight.”
“Right,” Bucky agreed, slowly twisting his fork around the noodles. “Because that’s what being straight means.”
Sam was watching him like he wanted to say something else but then he shook his head, reached over and grabbed the box of shrimp dumplings from Bucky.
“So, you gonna go after Zemo?”
“I told you, we’re not-”
“Not like that . I just meant, because you’ve clearly got unfinished business with him. His name is in your book.”
Bucky sighed. “Yeah. And the Dora are after him, so I gotta convince them that we need Zemo free to go after Karli.”
“How’re you gonna do that?”
“I guess I'll figure it out.”
“I know you got your ways of doing things,” Sam said. “And I know what Zemo’s opinion is. But I still think there’s gotta be another way to deal with Karli.”
“Okay, Sam. I get it. But my priority is making sure that the serum doesn’t spread. If she gets in my way- well, I’m not gonna lose sleep over it. She ain’t innocent. She’s killed a lot of people, and she’s gonna kill more to get what she wants.”
“Yeah, you’re really starting to sound like Zemo there.”
Bucky shrugged. “Maybe the man has a point. But you’re right that I got unfinished business with him. I just…haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Cogs still turning in that cyborg brain of yours?” Sam joked.
“Something like that,” Bucky mumbled. “Listen, thanks for the food Sam. I should probably go get some sleep.”
He got up to go, but when he reached the door Sam called him back. “Hey Buck…be careful. With Zemo, I mean. He’s a manipulative son of a bitch, and the way he acted in Madripoor….
Bucky heard the words that Sam left unsaid. Like he was your handler.
“It was just an act, Sam,” he said, trying to seem more certain than he was.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh."
"Well, just promise me you’ll call if you get in too deep. I’ll be in the US until there’s sign of Karli.
“Fine. I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
Bucky nodded. “Sure, I promise. Night, Sam.”
“Night.”
*
Bucky woke up to someone grabbing him by the hair and before he could react his head was yanked back to expose his throat. The sharp edge of a blade was pressed there, and then it hesitated. There were words spoken in a tongue he didn’t understand, and then he was being forced to his knees. He wanted to fight back, but then he felt a gloved hand on his throat and recognised it as Zemo’s.
Bucky’s first thought was: was this payback for the plane?
“No soldat,” the Baron said, voice deep and husky. “You have nothing to fear. I will not harm you.”
“Then what's with the knife?”
Zemo removed it from Bucky’s throat and looked at it as if he’d been unaware that he’d even been holding it. “You're a dangerous beast. You could tear me limb from limb, if you so desired. Would you like that, White Wolf?”
“No,” Bucky growled. “Fuck you, Zemo.”
Bucky felt the solid weight of him in his lap, and smelled the musky scent of his cologne. He could tell that his skin would be warm to the touch, just beneath his clothes. Zemo still held the knife to his throat, and it pressed between them as he leaned in to whisper, “Would you prefer that instead?”
Bucky placed Zemo's knife to his throat. “Don't.”
“Don't what?”, he leaned in close, catching Bucky’s earlobe between his teeth. “Tempt you?”
When he pulled back, there was blood streaming down his neck from where the knife blade had pressed into his throat. Zemo touched the wound with curiosity, and then pressed his bloody fingers to Bucky’s parted lips like an offering.
*
Bucky woke up suddenly, and this time he was lying on his back, twisted up in the sheets. He’d pulled his t-shirt off in his sleep, and his skin was slick with sweat.
He inhaled the stuffy air of the room and breathed out slowly. Zemo wasn’t here. No one was. He was alone.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking of the dream he’d just had. What the hell was that about?
Probably the conversation he’d had with Sam had given his subconscious ideas. He saw horrors behind his eyelids all the time, so this wasn't a big deal….right? It didn't mean that he wanted to….wanted to hurt Zemo. Even if the Baron did mess with him like that, Bucky wouldn't pull a knife on him. He wasn't that insecure about his masculinity. He’d just tell him no thanks, he didn't swing that way. No big deal.
He was still wearing his underwear, and it felt restrictive rubbing against his cock. He reached between his legs and he felt a damp spot where precum had leaked through his boxers.
Huh. Wouldn't be the first time thinking about knives woken up his underactive libido.
Still lightly palming his cock, Bucky ran his vibranium hand through his hair to remind himself that it was short now. Hopefully one day his brain would get the message, and it would stop sending him dreams about dangerous men coming to punish him for his crimes. It wasn't Zemo’s fault he just so happened to fit that description. He’d probably be disgusted if he knew about the dream. It would confirm all the worst things Zemo thought about people like him.
Like them.
He remembered the previous day, Zemo smiling at him wrly as he picked shards of glass out of his hair.
“I’m a lot less breakable than I was, James.”
Bucky sighed as he ran his thumb over the tip. The wound on Zemo’s hand had healed almost straight away. Perhaps a little cut wouldn't be so bad if-
Bucky turned his head abruptly at the sound of a knock on his door. Probably just Sam, but went over to check the peephole. He balked when he saw that it was Ayo standing there.
“Gimme a minute!”, Bucky called. He quickly grabbed the bathrobe from the back of the door and wrapped it around himself. He had no idea what she’d want to talk to him about again so soon, unless….
Bucky’s heart sank. Maybe they'd already found Zemo and taken him into custody.
He didn’t want that, he realized. He didn’t want Zemo to end up in the raft, like Sam had. He was under no illusions that the Baron was dangerous. He’d broken out of prison, killed Nagel, got himself way too far under Bucky's skin for his comfort- and that had just been in the last few days.
Now that he was enhanced, who knew what Zemo was capable of? And yet, part of Bucky still hoped that Ayo’s hunt had been unsuccessful.
Bucky opened the door for her, and she and two other warriors walked in. They briefly examined the room, checking the bathroom and the window, under the bed. Apparently they were satisfied that it was secure, because a moment later King T’Challa of Wakanda entered the room, followed by another two of the Dora.
Bucky didn't bow because it wasn't customary, but he nodded slowly in acknowledgment of the king’s presence.
“It has been a long time, Sergeant Barnes,” T’Challa said with a smile. “It is good to see you.”
He didn't say ‘you’re looking well’, Bucky noticed. Not that he was surprised. He could feel his eye still swollen from the fight with Walker, and he probably looked like a horrorshow this morning. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. If he’d known that he’d have an audience with the King this morning, he would have at least showered and dressed himself properly.
King T’Challa seemed not to noticed Bucky’s awkwardness, and instead walked over to the small seating area. He took a seat in one of the leather arm chairs and rested his arms on either side.
Bucky walked over and took the seat opposite him. “It’s good to see you too,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything. Freeing Zemo. I’m sure Ayo told you all about it.”
T’Challa nodded. “Yes. But that’s not why I’m here. I happened to be in the neighborhood, as you say. Moscow is not far from this city, so I thought that I would take the opportunity to speak with you in person.”
As he sat there, the King exuded power and confidence, and his presence seemed to fill the whole room. Bucky found that he couldn’t look away from him, and he waited for him to continue.
“So,” T’Challa continued. “Baron Zemo has become a supersoldier. Is this correct?”
“Yeah,” Bucky said. He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly. “But he didn’t mean to take the serum. It was an accident.”
The King nodded, as if he already knew the information. Bucky wished that he would get to the point, because he didn’t want it to sound like he was defending Zemo.
“As I’ve been informed,” T’Challa said. “And that fact changes many things. I have been considering the best course of action to take, regarding Helmut Zemo. And I have decided that I would like to know your thoughts on the matter, Sergeant Barnes.”
Bucky was surprised by that. “My thoughts? Why?”
“Because,” T’Challa said. “He framed you, used you. Treated you not as a person, but as a weapon. A means to an end. And yet, you helped break him out of prison and sit before me now defending him.”
Bucky frowned. “I wasn’t defending him. And yeah, I got some personal issues with him. But he was- is - our best shot at finding Karli. The mission comes first, so I gotta act like a professional.”
“And was it easy to put aside your personal issues, for the sake of the mission?”
Bucky thought about choking Zemo, and tried not to think about the dream he’d just had.
“Not easy, no. But I did it.”
T’Challa sighed. “That also seems to be my conclusion. When it comes to Helmut Zemo, at least. The man who murdered my father.”
He didn’t say the words with anger, Bucky noticed. It seemed more like resignation, but maybe there was some acceptance there too?
“No. There are no simple or easy answers,” the king said again. “Particularly now.”
“Now that he’s a super soldier,” Bucky supplied.
“Exactly for that reason. I will be honest with you, James. I do not wish for Zemo to be held in the custody of the CIA. I fear the consequences such a course of action would lead to.”
The King of Wakanda doesn’t want another enhanced person into the hands of the United States military , Bucky thought.
“I don’t think he’d want that either,” he said. “Zemo wants to finish the mission.”
“You think that is still his priority?”
“Yes. He doesn’t care about anything else.”
T’Challa leaned forward in his chair. “So you believe that he will end his own life, once his mission is complete?”
Bucky was taken aback. He’d known that Zemo was reckless about his own safety, but it hadn’t occurred to him until now that could be the reason. He thought about the words that Zemo had said to him when he’d first seen him in his cell.
At least you weren’t conscious for most of your imprisonment.
“I don’t know,” Bucky answered truthfully. “Maybe.”
“He attempted to before, in Siberia,” T’Challa mused. “I prevented him from doing so. Though, I admit that I had intended to end his life myself. I was so full of rage after my father was killed.”
T’Challa rarely talked about personal matters, so Bucky was surprised to hear him admit that. “What stopped you?”, he asked.
“I had responsibilities and other people that I cared about, but I was not thinking of them in that moment. Only that I did not want to be like him- a man consumed by vengeance. Barely even a man. Zemo was a shell of a human being. Tell me, Sergeant Barnes. Is that still true?”
Bucky thought about Zemo greeting his butler Oeznik like the old man was family. How he’d come alive in Madripoor, drinking and dancing like he was enjoying a strange, unexpected vacation. And how brutally efficient he’d been when he took out their attackers with no hesitation. Was that a man who wanted to die?
“What you’re saying doesn’t sound like the man I know,” Bucky said. “He’s not hollow, or a shell. I don’t know what he is, he’s just Zemo. And right now he’s really focused on his goals, and nothing is gonna get in the way of that. Not even him being a super soldier.”
T’Challa leaned back and steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. “I spared his life,” he said, after a minute had passed. “Zemo is an honorable man, in his own way. I believe that he would honor a life debt.”
“Honor it how?”, Bucky asked. “What do you want from him?”
“What I want is to keep my people safe in a dangerous world,” T’Challa said. “From men like Helmut Zemo. I want him far away from my kingdom, and yet still within reach.”
“So, you want him to work for you?”
“That may be,” T’Challa mused. “Or it may not. I have yet to make a decision. In the meantime, I think it would be best if you were to join him in the hunt for Karli Morgenthau. The serum is a threat to Wakanda, and I would be glad to see it gone. Thus far, yourself, Sam Wilson and Helmut Zemo are the ones who have made the most progress in this task. So, I am not going to get in your way while you complete it.”
“Good to know,” Bucky said. “Is there anything else, your majesty?”
“Just this,” King T’Challa said. He tapped the kimoyo beads on his wrist to Bucky’s phone, which had been resting on the table between them. It beeped, glowing blue as it displayed a series of numbers.
“Coordinates,” Bucky said. “To what?”
“The nearest property outside of Riga owned by the Zemo family.”
Chapter Text
*
When the trail to Karli went cold, Zemo fled across the country in the direction of the Russian border. He’d learnt long ago that it was wise to know when it was best to retreat. He had no information about Karli Morgenthau’s whereabouts. After so long spent in prison and so much change in the world, he had no connections left in Latvia. Morgenthau’s own network was extensive, and she and her acolytes had disappeared like rabbits into the vast warren of Europe. It would take skill and a lot of patience to unearth her, and Zemo needed somewhere to lay low while he made his preparations.
The safehouse in Riga had not been one in the true sense of the word. It was just an apartment owned by his family, which he’d stayed in only occasionally over the years. He’d never dreamt of using it for the kind of work he used to do, which he’d once again become engaged in.
Luckily, Zemo knew that nearby was another safehouse he’d used during his EKO scorpion days, when he’d hunted HYDRA and those who sought to recreate the super soldier serum.
The safehouse was a barn not far from the Russian border and by his own estimation it had taken him about five hours to run there from Riga. Zemo had considered stealing a car, but with his new found speed and stamina he found that he had little need of it. But by the time he reached the site, it was growing dark and he realized that the lack of transport might have been a mistake. He was so tired he felt like he needed to lie down and sleep for at least a day. The exhaustion wasn’t muscle soreness, precisely. It was more like his mind was growing foggy as his energy rapidly depleted. The fact that he hadn’t even noticed the exhaustion creeping up on him was unsettling. The closest thing that he could compare it to was the crash from stimulants like amphetamines or cocaine, with the conspicuous absence of a high.
Zemo wearily approached the barn and to his dismay found that it was chained shut with a thick metal padlock. It was rusty, but when he shook it he realized that the rust was merely a coating, and that the steel beneath it still held strong. It probably could have held out against a tractor, and Zemo knew that in his present condition he didn’t have the strength to pull it off. Cursing in Sokovian, he grabbed two of the metal links and concentrated all of his strength into snapping the two apart.
Once broken, the chain sagged and Zemo sank to the ground exhausted. He was tempted to fall asleep right there in the open, but he forced himself to get to his feet. Each step took tremendous effort, but he managed to stumble inside and bolt the door behind him. Then he slumped down, and the world around him went dark.
When he came to, Zemo found himself lying on the dirty concrete of the barn floor. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but when he tried to stand his legs felt like jelly.
“What’s happening to me?”, he muttered, rubbing his head.
No one replied. He was alone in the dark.
Realizing how vulnerable he was in this state made him feel afraid. He would be unable to resist capture if anyone came after him. He doubted that he could even bargain his way out of a situation, in this incoherent state. His tongue felt heavy, and his thoughts jumbled. He didn’t know if these were normal symptoms after receiving the serum, or if there was something badly wrong with him.
Perhaps I’m dying. Just another failed super soldier experiment. He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind, but it wasn’t easy.
He wished that James was here. The man hadn’t mentioned that something like this might occur, but they’d had no chance to talk. Everything happened so fast. Perhaps I should have stayed put in Riga, instead of running. It’s so hard to think…to be certain of anything.
Noticing that his thoughts were beginning to spiral, Zemo mentally took a step backwards and observed them rushing past him. It was as if he were standing on a hill watching the wind blowing clouds across a vast, blue sky. So fast they moved, there was no catching hold of any of them.
Zemo took another step back. Life in prison had been dull and monotonous, and yet reliably predictable. Clearly he had grown used to that way of living. He wasn’t used to unpredictability or danger anymore, and his nerves felt electrified. It was both exciting, and terrifying, and he actually felt…alive. For the first time in a long time. Was that why he was suddenly afraid to die?
Alive, yes. He knew inside that he wasn’t going to die. Not yet, at least. And not by any hand but his own.
Well, I might make an exception for James.
Unwilling to dwell on the feeling any further, Zemo fumbled for the light switch and located it after several attempts. He blinked as the fluorescence illuminated the room. The first thing he noticed was the large black jeep parked close to him. The vehicle was discrete enough to pass for civilian one, but hardy enough to navigate terrain off road. Behind it there was a small kitchen with a sink, a portable stop top with a gas canister and a sturdy metal chest which he knew contained food supplies. Next to that, there were lockers full of computer hardware, fake identification documents, medical supplies, clothing, survival gear and quite a significant amount of weapons and ammunition.
Zemo hesitated, his hand on the first locker. What was the combination? He had all of them memorized, but it took him a few minutes to recall the information. His heart sank slightly when he realized that this one was his son Karl’s birthday.
Not now. I don’t have time to dwell on the past.
He realised then that he was ravenously hungry, and quickly unlocked the food chest. Not caring what he ate, Zemo wolfed down a jar of preserved pears and a cold can of soup. He barely tasted it, and just glad that he was satiated and he no longer felt like he was going to pass out.
He wondered if James experienced this after exerting himself physically. Or perhaps he wasn’t as strong as James, who had been exposed to more of the serum than himself.
I need to understand how this works, Zemo realised. If I am to hunt down Karli and the Flag Smashers, I need to learn my own limitations.
*
Once Bucky had checked out of his hotel room, he hired a car and began driving to the location that King T’Challa had given him.
It’s almost in Russia, Bucky thought. Been a long time since I was there, but that’s still not long enough.
Though it was spring as he drove across the country, the sky ahead of him was growing dark and grey. It wasn’t long before snow began to fall.
He was looking up at it, head tilted back so that it was like he was flying through space among the stars. If they ever made it to space, he wanted to go there.
HYDRA were considering it, he knew. If there was intelligent life out there somewhere in the universe, HYDRA’s mission wouldn’t be complete until they’d colonised it all. Handler Karpov had been talking about that last night, while he’d been playing cards and drinking with his men. He’d lit cigarette after cigarette as if he needed to keep inhaling the smoke to live. The Winter Soldier had been trained not to listen in on his handler’s conversations, but he remembered that Karpov wanted soldiers who would be fit to colonize Mars.
The soldier knew that as hard as he tried, he would never be perfect. No matter how many successful missions he accomplished for his handler, it would never be enough. HYDRA deserved better than him; soldiers who were stronger, faster, deadlier.
According to the American division of HYDRA, there was a scientist in the USA who had successfully reproduced Erskine’s serum. It was far superior to the work that little troll Zola had done creating the asset. The soldier wanted to bring it to handler Karpov, because that was what HYDRA wanted. And no one would stand in his way.
A large truck rushed past him on the road, spraying Bucky’s windshield with water and obscuring his vision.
“Fuck you!” he cursed, slamming his foot on the brakes. “Fucking asshole!”
The car came to a stop. Luckily, there were no other vehicles on the road.
Bucky realised that he’d switched into what he thought of as ‘mission mode’, and he’d been automatically following the sat nav for hours while his mind wandered. Those memories were not ones he should be thinking about right now, especially while driving.
I don’t wanna crash. And I’m gonna crash if I disassociate like that again.
Even for a super soldier, he knew the potential injuries of an accident like that could be rough as hell. And then he’d never catch Zemo before he disappeared.
Zemo. Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled shakily, remembering Madripoor and the feeling of the Baron’s hand tightening on his leather harness. Pulling him back from the past and holding him securely. Somehow, the thought of that made him feel a lot better and after a few minutes his breathing began to return to normal again.
Bucky opened his eyes slowly. Maybe Sam was right and Zemo had managed to get inside his head. But…maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Jesus, that’s fucked up, Bucky thought wearily . But hey, what else is new?
He glanced at the phone laying on the passenger seat. Sam said he could call him, if he was in too deep. Bucky hesitated a moment longer, and then he picked up the phone. He held it to his ear and waited for his friend to answer.
But there was no response.
He realised then that Sam’s phone would be switched off because was on his flight back to the US.
Bucky put the phone down. It wasn’t a big deal , he told himself. He could handle Zemo, and according to the map he was almost at the safehouse.
*
Zemo stood holding a mug of coffee as he pored over the data displayed on the laptop. It was gleaned by a program he’d run to search for information on Flag Smasher forums. But following the events of the last few days, Zemo knew that it was already outdated. Karli would change whatever plans she had made, following what had occurred with Walker. But still, several of the locations he’d found would make sense as bases of operations. And if she was planning on laying low as he suspected, it was likely that large European cities with high numbers of displaced people would be reasonable places to begin searching for information.
They won’t have crossed the border to Russia, Zemo mused. He knew that they would need connections to the government in order to be able to operate there . Karli Morgenthau was a young woman, with no connections to any government or person of influence. That is, besides the Power Broker, who would presumably hunting Karli too.
And James will be hunting me.
Zemo took out a notebook from the pocket of his coat. James’s notebook. The one with Zemo’s own name written in it so carefully in pencil. One in a list, of course. But still, it clearly had significance to James. Zemo suspected that the name represented a promise that he intended to keep.
He’d tried to put thoughts of James aside while he focused on the task at hand, but as he was packing supplies into the vehicle he found that they kept straying back to the man. He couldn’t help wondering what their unfinished business might entail. In situations such as this, Zemo imagined every possibility and followed it through to its natural conclusion so that nothing would surprise him.
James wants me to return to Berlin. James wants to hand me over to the US military, to the CIA, to Wakanda, to Sam Wilson. James wants to put a gun to my head and look into my eyes as he pulls the trigger. James wants me to be the one holding the gun, and he wants me to pull the trigger myself.
Zemo paused, noticing a long rectangular box stashed under the backseat of the jeep. He pulled it out and opened it slowly, almost reverently. Inside lay a rapier lying on a bed of purple velvet. It had been a long time since he’d last seen this sword. He held it up, and the cold steel gleamed harshly under the fluorescent lighting.
He allowed muscle memory to take over as his body as he shifted into a fighting stance. He flourished the sword, and the years melted away from him and he was sixteen again, first learning to fence. He chided himself for wasting time indulging in nostalgia, but found that he couldn’t help himself. It was rare for a memory not to be a source of pain for him. He wondered if James had the same experience, when it came to the past.
The Winter Soldier was said to be an artist with a blade, Zemo thought. But James seems to prefer using his fists.
With a reluctant sigh, Zemo stopped and placed the sword back in the case. Time to stop being such a sentimental old fool.
As he finished making his preparations, he wondered if James would truly pursue him. He hoped that he would. And if he did, he was curious just how far James would follow him down the path he intended to walk.
If need be, he would walk it alone. Zemo was no stranger to that. But it would be nice to have company for once.
And I’d want to see just how good with a blade he really is.
*
When Bucky finally pulled up at the barn, he found it unlocked. Zemo had been here, and he’d cleared out whatever had been stored there. Weapons most likely, and he took a vehicle of some kind.
Bucky noticed something lying on the countertop and walked over to it. Anger surged through him when he recognised his notebook. How the hell had Zemo managed to steal it without me noticing? He snatched it up and flipped through. No, he hadn’t written in it. The asshole hadn’t gone that far, at least.
A piece of paper fell out onto the floor and Bucky stooped to pick it up. There was a series of numbers, coordinates. And underneath, written in immaculate penmanship:
Catch me if you can, James
-Z
Forgotten_City on Chapter 1 Sat 07 Sep 2024 12:44AM UTC
Last Edited Sat 07 Sep 2024 12:44AM UTC
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