I Can't Believe You're Doing It Again
It wasn't even five minutes into the meeting, and Zemo was already breaking his highest score on the snake game Bucky had never stood a chance against. He snatched the old Nokia from the man's hands and discreetly pointed ahead to where a presenter did his best not to sweat through his suit. Zemo only rolled his eyes like a little brat and slumped into his chair.
The next time Bucky looked, the baron was playing tic tac toe with himself. Judging by the number of 3x3 grids scribbled on his arm uncovered by rolled-up sleeves and by the score on the thumb, it was a tie between X and O. Bucky's intervention was much less calm this time - he snapped the ballpoint pen in a half, which got him the attention of several agents sitting with them around the table. His eyes met Sam's - he was equally annoyed with Zemo's lack of interest in the mission. To prevent Zemo from trying similar shenanigans, Bucky ensured his expression was threatening enough to force him to at least try to pay attention to what was being said.
It was maddening how, more often than not, Zemo did whatever he couldn't normally do during his imprisonment instead of getting the job done, especially considering the many times Bucky stood up for him whenever someone suggested the apparent uselessness of the guy's presence (and inevitably his partial freedom). The thing is that Bucky believed in Zemo's potential to be good if given the chance. Well, even after hundreds of second chances, the beast was still yet to be tamed.
After the presentation regarding their case, there was a brief discussion that officially ended the meeting. Zemo sprung up from his chair first, determined to leave the conference room at the speed of light and only the mighty grip of Bucky's vibranium arm prevented him from doing so. He kept him anchored until the room filled out (even Sam, who silently wished him patience, because God knows he would strangle the smirk out of Zemo's face), leaving the two of them alone.
"I can't believe you're doing it again," Bucky huffed, releasing the fabric of Zemo's turtleneck.
"Doing what, James?" Although his tone was a dictionary definition of innocence, his eyes were telling a whole other story. He knew damn well what Bucky meant and was far from being proud of the implication of misbehavior. "Can't blame me for making an educated guess. As I see it, these terrorists are no threat to us."
"That's your excuse for sloppiness?" He couldn't believe his ears.
"They are total amateurs. You and I stood against much bigger fish in the sea. Do you really think it's necessary to listen to these office rats? They have never fought for anything but a larger office with that comfortable chair that spins, but we have. We don't have to be told what to do. We know."
Bucky licked his lips. "Allow me to make one educated guess myself. From my perspective, and the perspectives of everyone else, you're just a selfish bastard who doesn't care about anyone and anything but his own happiness."
"Happiness?" Zemo chuckled sarcastically. "It's too late for me to ever be ha-"
"Dammit, stop making everything about you!"
A rare occurrence followed this outburst of emotions - Zemo was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth several times but voiced no defense or protest. Eventually, he gave up trying. Smiling sadly, he walked slowly to retrieve his coat from a hanger. Only when he was almost out the door did he whisper: "I hoped you knew me better than that." The words resonated through Buckey's skull only briefly. He soon shook them off, thinking that Zemo was only being dramatic after the scolding. To be honest, he wished the baron would take their conversation to heart this time.
Four days passed without them exchanging a single word that wouldn't be business-related, and even those pieces of conversation had a bite to them. It was different from their usual bickering, mainly because it wasn't mere teasing anymore, but rather hateful fighting. Bucky did his best to ignore the irritating baron. Maybe if he paid more attention to the hurt man, he would have noticed the signs... First, Zemo started to pay close attention at the meetings. Second, he made thorough notes. Third, he wore the reading glasses he always complained about and refused to wear. It all pointed to one conclusion - Zemo was planning something.
When Zemo went missing, it stirred panic among the many agents, except for Bucky and Sam. They knew that such a feeble attempt to escape was way under the man's standards. No. He deliberately kept a tracking device on his ankle ON, so they would find him. Just like Hansel and Gretel, he also left a path of breadcrumbs behind himself. This was Zemo's solo mission to take down the terrorists they had been circling around for months oh so carefully, knowing full well that any obvious attempt at their exposure could mean the death of many innocent people. Zemo had a gun. Zemo broke into the house of their key suspect.
It was the highest level of emergency. In order to stay undetected, the squad had to park their cars a few blocks away and then walk the distance on foot. Bucky, Sam, and a few others were chosen to go in, while the rest searched the perimeter for possible threats. The consequence of Zemo's recklessness showed before they could reach him. Through the mezzanine window between the sixth and seventh floor - three floors down from their suspect's apartment - they witnessed a collapse of a building. The ground under them shook. The agents gripped the banisters for dear life, while Bucky and Sam rushed to reach the apartment.
Zemo stood stunned after hearing the deafening sound. His legs felt like they were made of lead. The only part of his body he was able to move was his head – to see the damage he had indirectly caused – and his hand – which slowly lowered and weakened its grip on the weapon. The gun hit the ground, but Zemo couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything except for tinnitus ringing in his ears. The baron hardly noticed when Bucky kicked the door open, tackling the terrorist and knocking him out for safety. Only when the former Winter Soldier yanked him by the lapels and pressed him to the wall did Zemo snap out of the trance.
"Look what you did!" Bucky growled in his face. Sam stood right next to him with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Zemo with disapproval. The terrorist was being cuffed and taken away by the rest of the squad. Having no comeback to offer, Zemo reached out his hands for Bucky to cuff. "No. You're gonna help us fix this mess." He dragged the smaller man by his shoulder. It was almost worrisomely easy as Zemo put zero fight, being obedient as a sheep lead to the slaughter, only Zemo knew where they were going and that it was going to hurt.
Zemo was thrown on the passenger seat, and as they neared the damaged building, his hands started to tremble. He gripped the seat belt to prevent them from doing it so visibly, but from the confused look on Bucky's face when their eyes met for a brief moment Zemo knew he wasn't successfully hiding his fears. It only got worse when they finally reached the place. They all got out of the car, and other agents who followed them the whole drive did the same.
When he got out, dust and the distinctive smell of death hit him like a truck. This was all too familiar. Zemo wanted to close his eyes, stab his own tell-tale heart, turn around, and run – anything but facing the ghosts of the people he loved and who weren't there anymore. A couple of men ran around him, making him stumble. He couldn't help but wonder if they were fathers, looking for their children and wives.
Seeing that the baron's mind was far from then and there, Bucky shook him by the shoulder. "Hey, there's no time for-"
"It was a school, James," Zemo whispered, his voice cracking mid-sentence. Bucky followed the line of his gaze - he was looking at a body of a child. It was squashed under a big piece of a ceiling, its school bag lying next to it on the ground, covered in dark grey particles of dust. No wonder Zemo was so emotionally upset, putting all his energy into keeping himself from breaking down.
"This is my fault..."
Bucky knew that he needed to redirect Zemo's thoughts, or else the man could make himself much sicker than need be. He already looked three shades paler than usual, and five sizes smaller in that coat of his. "Look at me," he demanded the baron's attention. "Listen, you fucked up, but Sam and I need you to help us now. The rest of the building is still unstable and there might be more explosive charges around here. We gotta evacuate as many people as possible from this area. Do you understand?"
It seemed to be the right thing to say, because the baron straightened up, nodded firmly to acknowledge his understanding, and ran off to the nearest group of standing people.
The operation was a mess - agents, doctors, policemen, they all tried their best, but their efforts were often drowned in the chaos. And in the middle of it all, Bucky lost track of Zemo. It had been a while since he saw the man, but knew for a fact that he wouldn't and didn't disappear on them.
In a couple of hours, everything seemed to be under control. The rescue services retreated from the place to make space for structural analysts and pyrotechnics. Despite the horrors of the day, the weather was bright and cheerful, enough to make one angry at its inappropriateness. The hearts of many were grieving their losses. One of them came running with loud cries. It belonged to a very young boy who slipped through the workers to try and move the rubble with his bare hands in the hope of finding someone dear he was missing.
The police officers who remained to oversee the aftermath of the attack gathered around the child. It was then that Bucky saw Zemo again. The baron uncharacteristically shoved one officer to the side so he could get to the boy. He pulled the lad in a tight but careful hug. No matter how much he was thrashing around, Zemo continued to hold him patiently, until the fit of rage passed, leaving only sadness. When the small child started to cry, Zemo scooped him up in his arms. Ignoring the commands of the officers, he carried him to the car. His coat was soaking wet at the collar by the time they settled down on the back seats.
Bucky watched this happen with amazement. He always imagined that Zemo must have been a wonderful father, but it would never occur to him that he would ever witness the instinctive care and comfort that used to be part of the baron's past life. It was very likely that Zemo himself never expected it.
"Mister Barnes," one officer barked at him. "Tell your associate to give up the child to us. It's utterly unacceptable for the boy to stay with a cold-blooded murderer." Zemo froze in the middle of rubbing his hands up and down the boy's arms. He heard it. While he never cared about how others perceived him, he had to care now, because his bad reputation suddenly stood between him and a chance to take care of this child, until it's ensured that the boy's family has been found. But he was willing to fight anyone who doubted his capability as a father.
To his surprise, Bucky looked offended by what the officer said. "You say it like you know him," he frowned with disbelief. "Humans have more sides than just one side. You think you see him, but you really don't. Yes, he is a merciless killer when he thinks he must be, but at the same time, he's one of the most perceptive people I've ever met. I'm sure you know our history together, so take it from me when I say that there's no one better to be trusted with this child."
The uniformed man stood there dumbstruck. He chanced a look into the backseat - Zemo gave up his coat and pulled it around the boy's fragile body to keep him warm and comfortable. Eventually, he deflated. "Have it your way, but under one condition - you will have a social worker assigned, who will have the right to take the boy away at any minor sign of mistreatment."
"Deal," Bucky said without hesitation. Knowing that he was trusted made the corner of Zemo's lips twitch with genuine happiness. Bucky then waved a signal at Sam, sat down behind the wheel, and started the engine. He noticed the baron looking at him through the rearview window, with wet eyes, mouthing small: 'Thank you.'
Although the boy was still shaken up from what happened, he seemed grateful for Zemo's soft reassurances and cuddles. It was too soon to start questioning him, so they asked only the bare minimum. His name was Sebastian, he was the same age as Carl would be and didn't mind fancy vegetable soup for dinner. Seeing how exhausted he was, they let him sleep the rest of the ride. Zemo picked up a phone and called Oeznik to draw a bath for their guest. His voice was a bit slurred from fatigue, but there was a twinkle in his wet eyes, and he couldn't look away from Sebastian, not even for a moment to get at least some sleep.
Once they parked at Zemo's place, the baron gently woke Sebastian up by running his hand through his dirty hair. Bucky held the doors open for them, and as he watched the man leading the boy inside, holding his little hand, he knew that his decision was right.
The butler was already waiting for them.
"Good evening, Oeznik," Zemo beamed at him. The old man, ever the professional, held back any emotional response that would reflect his surprise at the rare genuinely joyful tone. "Would you be so kind and took young master Sebastian to the bathroom?"
"Certainly, sir," he replied, looking fondly at his employer and the boy.
Zemo kneeled next to the boy. "There's a vast collection of various shampoos, bubble baths, shower gels, bath bombs and salts. Feel free to use anything that appeals to you. My friend," he pointed at the butler. "will be right behind the door the whole time in case you should need something. When you're finished, call out for him, and he will hand you a fresh set of clothes. Then we'll have dinner as we discussed in the car. Is that okay?"
Sebastian nodded, and slowly let go of Zemo's hand in the favor of following Oeznik. The baron didn't dare to move until the boy was out of sight.
Bucky suddenly felt out of place. "I should go home."
"Stay for dinner."
He flinched slightly. Ever since they got past the 'soldier and his handler' stuff, Zemo had been using only polite requests. Hearing a direct order coming from him could mean a million things. Bucky contemplated whether he should obey or disobey the command. Emotionally vulnerable or not, the baron was still the same calculated bastard, who always knew well how to use certain sensitive information to manipulate people around him. "Okay," he eventually agreed. "Do you need me to help with something?" Anything to make his presence less awkward.
"Actually, yes."
The attic was relatively insignificant compared to all the other rooms of the house. It was kept clean and organized. And it must have been full of memories as well because Zemo's heart rate became elevated. Soon, Bucky was handed a box full of stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes. "Are these...?"
"Carl's. Yes. He loved to have his bed full of these to keep him company. Always chose one to take with him whenever we went on a trip. They used to be everywhere. In the living room, the kitchen, the car...." He froze briefly, looking at the box with a mix of dread and anger, then took out several t-shirts from another, smaller box.
"Are you sure you want Seb to have these while he's here? Clothes as well?"
"Sebastian is a very kind lad, and if these can make him feel at least some sense of normalcy, then he shall have them."
"I know, but what about you?"
"I'm just glad to be able to provide again. It's been too long since I had someone to take care of. To protect. This time, I will not fail."
It was time for dinner, and Zemo insisted on preparing the table himself. He moved around the kitchen like a stay-at-home spouse, elegant and domestic, placing bowls of soup in front of his guests and pouring tea into mugs. Bucky had never seen him more at ease. While his heart was telling him to be happy for the baron, his head knew how wrong it all was. One look at Zemo's smile as he encourages Sebastian to not be shy and eat up, and all doubts were dismissed. Let him have it.
The conversation at the table was diplomatically steered so that they would avoid any talks that could poke at any trauma. Sebastian liked the mango tea, admitting that he had never eaten it. Zemo immediately offered to have Oeznik buy some. It started off a pattern - whenever the boy implied that he liked something, the baron immediately decided to shower him with it.
A yawn stifled the boy's body.
"Time to go to bed. Do you wish me to show you into your room, young master Sebastian?" The boy rubbed at his sleepy eyes and nodded. He took Zemo's hand and let himself be led. It left Bucky alone in the kitchen, and so he decided to clean up. When it was done, and Zemo still hadn't returned, he proceeded to wash the dishes, then sat down on a couch and waited another fifteen minutes. It started to look suspicious. He ascended the stairs to find Zemo sitting on a bed next to sleeping Sebastian. Bucky cleared his throat softly to make himself known.
Zemo got up, spared one last look at Seb, and then joined Bucky in the hallway, leaving the door slightly open to hear the boy if he needed anything. They took a few steps away so as not to interrupt the sleeping prince.
"How long did you plan on staying there?" Bucky asked, his tone light and teasing.
The answer sounded sad. "Just like an alcoholic tells himself to drink only one more drink, I told myself to stay only one more minute, and ended up too drunk to stand up and leave."
In the light of the hallway, Bucky had a better view of Zemo's face, and could not notice that the exhaustion from earlier was back in his eyes, but much more intense this time. "Are you all right?"
"You should have seen him when he first laid eyes on all the stuffed animals. He's a good lad, this Sebastian."
Bucky gave him a pointed look that Zemo successfully dodged. "That's not what I asked. You can tell me, you know? After all that happened today-" The baron flinched ever so slightly at that. "- you don't have to be okay."
The smile he received was tight and forced. "I am fine." Zemo stopped to look out the window, without a doubt for distraction, making it easier for himself to say what he was about to say with minimal emotion. "You can go home if you want to."
Knowing what was written in between the lines, Bucky said he would sleep on the couch.