Exploring
After the being-read-to incident things fell even more into a routine and you noticed the Baron around a lot more. For the next day or two you couldn’t get the gesture of him helping you fall asleep, distracting you from your night terrors with his low reading-voice, out of your mind. Deep inside your chest something was happening, a clenching sensation. You couldn’t name it and it made you uneasy but at the same time you felt more welcome in the mansion than before.
You’d spend more time downstairs, lounging around the living room or kitchen, mostly reading with the sound of his voice in your head.
You knew it was stupid, you knew you were simply starting to feel deprived of genuine human contact, be it romantically connoted or not. It felt as if he cared more about what you were up to as well. Asking in passing if you were alright, what you were reading, if you had eaten or if there was something you needed. He also turned out to be an avid tea lover, always offering you a cup of cherry blossom tea in fine china and sometimes joining you silently.
Interaction with Oeznik also became more frequent. In the mornings when he would offer you breakfast, he’d stay for a bit, drinking his own cup of coffee and making light small talk.
All this slightly friendlier behavior in your fellow residents didn’t mean that you became a bit bored with time. By day 9 or 10 you decide it was time to explore more of the mansion, seeing as there wasn’t much else to do besides sleep and read.
You start by investigating more of the downstairs area. A pantry, another guest bathroom, a storage room and a locked door, most likely leading into a basement.
Additionally, you discover the doors to the outside weren’t locked. Figuring as you were most likely in the middle of nowhere you should be fine going onto the patio for some fresh air.
It was chilly for the beginning of September, which makes you guess you were somewhere further up north. Stepping outside you take a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of a cold breeze surrounding you and closing your eyes to take in the noises of nature. The door from the dining room led right onto a little patio, not too high above the ground before a few small steps descended onto a decent sized patch of grass. It was mostly left wild, random lavender plants popping up here and there and a small, old looking fountain being engulfed by moss. You figure it wasn’t used much but you appreciated it the untamed beauty at that moment. After a few moments of taking in the outside world, once again staring absently into the forest you rush back in, dressed too cold for the outside.
In your head you make a mental note to come outside more often, perhaps asking for permission from your host first. This thought makes you scoff at yourself, wondering when you started considering him a host instead of a kidnapper and why you’d ask for permission when apparently you were here on your own free will anyways.
Your adventurous spirit was awakened and you hastily make your way upstairs to peek into the other unknown rooms there.
To your disappointment two of them are locked. The third one leads you to stop dead in your tracks as you open the door.
Where in the other rooms of the house the interior was a well-executed balance between modern chic, mid-century and vintage elements, this room, which you figured to be a study, was straight out of a Jane Austen novel.
Dark furniture with magnificent, carved details in the wood, a red velvet couch and armchair for reading the insane number of books stored in the tall shelves lining the wall. Oil paintings hung high on the wall, some portraits of men and women, all dressed in dark purple. Others showed landscapes of what you assumed to be Sokovia, before the fall.
The only thing reminding you of the current century was the computer screen on the desk.
You carefully proceed into the room, admiring the filled shelves hosting little trinkets and memorabilia. Mostly old watches, ancient swords and knives, exhibited on a little socket, busts of people you don’t recognize and the finest porcelain plates.
As you turn the corner your attention drifts to the desk in the middle of the room. It’s neatly organized, besides a few miscellaneous papers and pens.
What immediately catches your eye is the framed picture on the right corner. It’s slightly faded but still clearly shows a family of three. Father, mother and son.
In fact, it’s definitely the Baron, a content smile on his face, the child on his lap, making a grimace while his wife smiles directly into the camera.
You don’t know how long you simply stare at the picture. Your heart aches, even though you have no idea how it feels to lose your family. You only read about Zemo’s reasons for trying to tear apart the avengers in online articles but you never really saw it as an excuse or felt empathy.
As you look at the picture now, all rough on the edges, only protected by a thin glass, you wonder, if it might be one of the only memories he had left of them.
You’re lost in your thoughts, trying to picture what kind of man he used to be, how he acted as father and as a husband. Did the loss change his personality, or was his kindness to you a leftover from the past?
You lose track of time and reality as you imagine a younger, innocent version of the Baron in love until somebody clears his throat. Your head snaps up, body frozen to the spot like a deer in the headlights. Your hands in the cookie jar while the Baron angrily stares at you.
You begin to apologize, not getting more than a “Sorry, I..” before he aggressively storms toward you. You duck your head, already expecting a violent outburst but he stops mere inches of you, breathing heavily.
“Get out.”
His harsh tone and furious stare immediately enable your flight instinct. You rush past him, straight to your own room, slouching down against the shut door and finally letting out the breath you’ve been holding since you were caught.
In a way you were more scared than in the warehouse. Not only his angry, almost resentful stare but the Baron’s whole aggressive presence made you shiver. There was disappointment underneath his rage as well, which almost made it seem like a trust that you didn’t know was there, had been broken.
It takes you a while to calm down. You pace around the room debating what to do. You couldn’t hide away in the room forever but you also didn’t really want to face the Baron anytime soon, unsure about his reaction. Would he become violent now?
You don’t know how much time you spend hiding away, sometimes peeking out into the hallway but finding the house to be quiet. In the end you decide to just go downstairs, face whatever consequences are thrown at you.
Careful steps lead you into the living area where a you find a soft light coming from the patio outside the terrace door, a silhouette casting a long haunting shadow.
As you step closer you notice the smoke swirling through the air after being blown leisurely out of the Barons mouth.
He’s standing there, tall in his fur collared coat, smoking a cigarette while staring into the woods, brows furrowed.
You don’t know exactly what overcomes you but you step outside. He doesn’t spare you a glance, just takes another drag.
It’s freezing, and you pull your cardigan tighter around your body. For some time, you simply stand there, next to each other, watching the wind move the tops of the tall pine trees. You never noticed him smoking, assuming he only did it when he was stressed… or disappointed.
“I’m sorry.” You mumble eventually. Not sure what exactly to say, considering you know it was intrusive and insensitive.
He huffs next to you, putting out his cigarette with the heel of his boot, still not facing you.
“It’s quite rude to go through someone’s personal stuff.”
It’s a statement and you leave it at that until you’re reminded of your own personal belongings.
“In a way you did the same with the things from my apartment though.”
“Touché… Still, my study should be of no interest to you.”
You apologize again, explaining that you didn’t go through any of the documents that were strewn around the desk. You want to ask him about the picture, but the tension and disappointment was thick enough and perhaps it wasn’t the right time.
As if reading your thoughts, he states that it’s just private matters and of no concern to you. You simply nod and apologize again, still not quite daring to look into his eyes.
“You can stop apologizing now.” He says after a moment, “Let’s eat something.”
The tension eases a bit during your dinner together. As always, he makes small talk. Asking how you are holding up, if you’ve finished your book, how your wounds are healing.
You give him the usual monotone answers until you can’t hold in your thoughts anymore.
“It’s just that I am kind of bored around here. There’s only so many hours that I can stay interested in a book. And there’s not really many people to talk to. I miss socializing, and I miss stupid films and TV shows. I don’t have any purpose around here, so I started exploring the house a bit, trying to fight the mundane.”
You babble. Not sure why but perhaps to justify your intrusion. He nods understandingly throughout your explanation but doesn’t comment any further.
You part in a slightly more eased manner, wishing each other a good night. You still feel neglected and not too happy with how you managed the whole incident or how you communicated your wishes, making a mental note to clarify and demanding what you wanted to feel more at home tomorrow.
********
The next morning, as you sit in the kitchen with your breakfast Zemo passes by, putting an iPad next to your plate.
“It’s yours. And useless for any communication with the outside world, but it’s got Netflix and the like on it.”
You thank him as he casually stands at the other end of the kitchen island, offering you another cup of coffee.
“Did you sleep well?”
All seems ok between the two of you again and you spend your morning actually having a casual chat about breakfast foods and coffee types with him. Feeling as if he was making an effort in socializing more but appreciating the change in your morning routine nonetheless.