Chapter 3
III
For the fifth mission, he’d let the guards escort him through the maze of the prison’s corridors. The Raft reeked of misery. He glanced at the prisoners inside the solitary cells on his left and right as he walked: most were on their beds, facing the wall, others sat on the floor, curled into themselves and staring into space, a few had their hands covering their faces.
They came to a stop in front of the last cell, and he looked through the glass. On the other side, Zemo seemed perfectly at ease, sitting at a bare table, apparently immersed in a voluminous book, although he certainly had heard them approach. His composure distinguished him from all the other criminals there, his straight-backed posture that of a refined young lord. He looked thinner, though, and there were dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time Bucky had seen him, only a month before. When he turned, Bucky noticed a nasty shiner on the left side of his face. An unbidden bout of rage and protectiveness surged over him, and he shot a withering glare at the guards until they backed away, leaving him alone with Zemo.
Zemo got up and prowled to the glass of the cell. He seemed genuinely delighted to see him.“James. How are you?”
“Fine,” he grunted. The Sokovian could surely see Bucky’s own shadows under his eyes but didn’t comment on it. “You?” he asked, tipping his chin to indicate the bruise. The cold, artificial light of the cell only made the contrast between his skin and the bruising starker.
“Oh, this? I had a little disagreement with one of those gentlemen yesterday,” he disclosed, with a nod toward the spot where the guards had just disappeared. “No need to worry about me.”
“I don’t worry.”
Zemo only hummed, and then didn’t say anything else. Feeling the need to fill the silence, Bucky continued, “I was just interested in whether or not you could be of use to our mission.” I could always call Ayo and tell her you’ll sit this one out because you got your ass kicked, he decided against adding. Zemo really looked like he needed to get out of this place for a while. But then, didn’t everyone who was locked in here?
“Yes, that seems to be a recurring theme,” Zemo said, cryptically, and turned away, approaching his table again. “Still, you are my second visitor today, yet the first who cared enough to ask about it.”
Bucky pulled back, blinking. “Who was the first?”
“Oh, a charming if slightly crude woman. You might know her as the Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine.” His pronunciation switched swiftly from English to Italian to French as he talked, still with his back to Bucky. “She was here just a few hours ago.”
“That’s the woman Walker is working with,” Bucky said, bewildered.
“Working for may be more appropriate, but yes, it is her.” A note of disdain coloured Zemo’s voice.
“And what the hell did she want from you?”
Zemo finally turned back, leaning against the table, and inclined his head, watching him intently for a moment before answering. “She made me a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
“A deal.”
“Yes, I know what a proposal is,” he grumbled. “What kind of proposal?”
The other man only smiled in the face of his irritation, before turning serious again.
“She offered to free me permanently if I accepted to work along with her and our dear U.S. Agent.”
Bucky was silent for a moment, stunned. Inexplicably, his stomach churned at the idea of the Sokovian taking orders from that woman. He didn’t know much about her, but the fact that she was going around recruiting people like Walker and Zemo… what was she trying to do, form a fucking antihero version of the Avengers? And did the government know about it? Both possibilities were worrying, and equally believable. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time the authorities had hid something from the general public.
Would Zemo go along with anything similar though, even with his freedom on the line? Could he follow any agenda that wasn’t his own? Bucky had suspected he was collaborating with them not just out of boredom, but because he held sincere respect for T’Challa and his sister, and because it let him keep an eye on anyone intending to recreate the super soldier serum. On the other hand, in the past he’d made his opinion on the U.S. government and its questionable methods very clear. But then, the prospect of a lifelong sentence in jail would change the mind of many men.
When he looked up again, Zemo was observing him closely, in the manner Bucky had come to associate with him. The Sokovian was always thinking, always analyzing, always waiting for a reaction. Bucky cleared his throat. “So? Did you accept?”
“No,” Zemo answered simply.
“No? And why would you refuse? Surely it’d be better to be free, even if it’s under her supervision, than staying here gettin’ punched by the guards.”
“As I told her this morning, James,” Zemo said, carefully enunciating each word as he drew close to the glass again, “I would never abandon my favorite team.” His smirk could almost have been a real smile.
Bucky hadn’t known how to answer to that, so he’d waited in silence, holding his gaze — wishing uselessly that could be enough to read the other man’s thoughts — until two Dora Milaje had arrived to take the prisoner out of the Raft, where they would be debriefed on their new mission.
“Okay, Steve, I know what this might look like, but–”
“Do you? Cause this looks awfully like he’s been controlling you again, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re actually talkin’ to me I’d swear I was in front of the Winter Soldier.”
“Well, you’re not. The Winter Soldier has been gone for a while,” Bucky said forcefully, before managing to soften his voice. “Listen, a lot of things have changed while you were… away, and I’ll explain them, but you need to calm down.”
“Give me my shield.”
“Steve–”
“I’ll let you speak and decide if I need to use it or not. But I want it back,” Steve demanded, adamant.
Bucky hesitated, but in the end he relented and passed him the weapon. Right now he needed Steve to feel safe and non-threatened, and letting him hold his shield would achieve that. He heard Zemo move slightly behind him but he didn’t turn away from Steve, who adjusted the shield on his arm and then made a mocking gesture to allow him to speak. “I’m listening.”
At least he didn’t seem to be a second away from attacking them anymore, Bucky thought. He decided to start with the most important thing.
“So, Wakanda knows Zemo is here. He’s been helping–”
“That’s impossible,” Steve objected immediately. “He was in a prison in Germany, he killed the king of Wakanda, and you’re telling me they just let him go after a couple of months, like it was nothin’?”
“Well, first of all, Steve, it hasn’t been mere months. I don’t know how much time you spent in the past, or how much you think has passed here, but it’s been fucking years since you left,” he snapped, and couldn’t help the resentful note that entered his tone. “As I was saying, a lot has happened. You weren’t there. After you and the others brought half of the population back, the world was damned chaos for quite some time. It still hasn’t fully recovered.” That was probably an understatement, in fact. “At some point, a group of international terrorists called the Flag Smashers started to organize attacks against diplomatic institutions, and we had to intervene.”
“So what, you decided to defeat a group of terrorists by freeing another fucking terrorist? Who had this brilliant idea?” Steve asked, contemptuous.
Bucky felt his lips tightening in a straight line and the sudden need to avert his gaze in shame, but forced himself to look Steve in the eye as he answered. “It was me. I freed him and only told Sam after Zemo was already out.”
Steve recoiled, the hostility in his expression replaced by taut confusion. “What? Why? Why would you do that, Buck? Did he use the words to–”
“No, he– he didn’t.” He cringed, remembering that Zemo had in fact attempted to use them. But that wasn’t the point now. “I freed him because we were at the end of our rope and needed his help. Which he gave, because he hates super soldiers and that’s what the terrorists were.”
“You realize that’s what you are too, right?” Steve didn’t give him the time to answer that. (He didn’t know how he would have answered anyway. He was aware he was Zemo’s exception, but he’d never understood the reason for that). “How can you trust him not to stab you in the back at any moment? He was the reason the Civil War ended the way it did, for all we know if we hadn’t been divided Thanos wouldn’t have won the first time!”
Bucky clenched his jaw. “We don’t know that. Look, he’s our ally now, Steve. If he’d wanted to hurt me he already would have had plenty of occasions to do it. You’ll just have to trust my judgment, although I realize that may be a lot to ask given my past.”
Steve immediately looked guilty. “Buck, no, that’s not what I–”
“You know, I actually agree with the Captain here,” Zemo intervened in a caustic tone, putting Bucky instantly on edge. He turned to give him a warning glance, but Zemo was focused on Steve. “You are right, one should never be too trusting, even with people you think you know.”
“What are you saying?” Bucky asked cautiously.
“The last I heard, Steve Rogers was supposed to be older than Oeznik by now. How do we know it is truly him?”
“How dare you–”
Zemo ignored Steve’s indignation. “Remember the Power Broker’s little face trick you told me about, James?”
Even in the midst of that tense situation, Bucky was grateful to Zemo for not mentioning Sharon’s name. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to deal with giving Steve that news too.
Then, the extent of the insinuation hit him. He looked back at Steve, doubt rapidly festering in his mind. He had readily accepted Steve’s return, without asking too many questions, as if scared that looking in the proverbial horse’s mouth would make him disappear into thin air again. He didn’t know anything about how he had come back, or how he had found him here in Rome. He’d just let sentiment obfuscate his judgment.
As always, Steve Rogers was his greatest weakness.
“Bucky, you ain’t really gonna listen to him, right?” Steve took a couple of steps toward him. His voice was strained, disbelieving, and Bucky felt like shit, but Zemo was right.
“I’m sorry, Steve. You could be someone sent by Hydra, for all I know.”
After all, Hydra had used his affection for Steve before. Pierce had looked so similar to him. Too similar. It hadn’t been a coincidence.
“Hydra is dead,” Steve stated, frowning.
“Not completely. Not yet. Not ever, maybe,” he sighed and closed his eyes. He could feel Zemo’s presence behind him, reassuring, supporting. He took a breath, straightened, and opened his eyes again, the resolve of the soldier falling over his features.
“Tell me something only the real Steve Rogers would know.”
He ignored the expression of betrayal the man in front of him wore and crossed his arms.
“Buck–”
“Go on, then you’ll explain to us how you got here,” he added, unwavering.
“Fine,” Steve grunted, capitulating and crossing his arms as well, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Do you remember that time in Brooklyn, it was October, two years before the war, we went to see–”
“No,” Bucky cut him off suddenly, “someone could have known about the things from before.” I could have told them during one of the endless torture sessions, he didn’t say aloud. “Tell me something that happened after we met again. When I remembered.”
Steve gritted his teeth in evident frustration. “I don’t fucking know, Bucky, can’t we just–”
“I know. There is something I believe only the three of us know about. Well, there was a fourth person, too, but not anymore.” Silence followed Zemo’s words. “No? It was briefly mentioned by the Captain, before.”
Right. Bucky pinched his nose, sighing again. He could feel the beginning of a headache. He knew what Zemo was referring to.
“Alright. Steve, what happened in Siberia?”
“What? Everybody knows that,” Steve said, blinking.
“No. The general public only knows you and Tony had a fight over the Accords and didn’t leave on the best of terms. What actually happened? Who attacked first and why?”
There was a pause, Steve clearly choosing his words. On Bucky’s left, still slightly behind him, Zemo stared at the man in a worryingly inexpressive way. Bucky knew one of his guns was hidden in the third kitchen drawer, a couple of steps from them. It was clear that if this was a spy Sam’s rule wouldn’t be followed this time.
“Tony did. He attacked me because he’d just found out that… the Winter Soldier had killed his parents.” He’d avoided saying ‘you’, but Bucky could still hear it. Could still hear the sound of the car accident and Maria Stark’s pleadings. Could feel her throat in his hand, as he strangled her to death, after killing her husband. Could remember his handler’s praise afterward. “And he was the one who planned for that to happen. For the Avengers to turn against each other. It was all his fault,” continued Steve, pointing accusingly at Zemo.
“No, we should have told Tony the truth from the beginning. What happened in Siberia was our fault.” He’d never had the chance to clear things up with Tony Stark. He’d been in Wakanda, and then there had been Thanos, and then it was too late. He didn’t even know if Tony would have agreed to talk to him. Either way, his was one name Bucky would never be able to cross off the list. He sighed again, suddenly exhausted. “Doesn’t matter now. You really are Steve, it seems,” he said wearily, smiling faintly, and he was still happy Steve was here, of course he was, but the happiness had become buried under fatigue and the guilt brought by the memories. Zemo seemed to notice.
“Why don’t we continue this conversation in a more comfortable location, perhaps in the parlour?” he proposed.
“You’ll stay right there where I can see you.”
“Steve, stop threatening him. I’m serious.” Bucky only just managed to keep his patience, and he imbued his voice with the same tone he’d used to force Steve to take his damned medicine when asthma could still take him away in the night. Your stubbornness will kill you one day, punk, he would grumble, as he made him wear another layer of clothes.
Steve shifted his attention back to him. “Buck, it’s not that I don’t trust you, really, you know I do, but I’m worried about you. About all of this.” He paused, looking apologetic. “I want to speak with T’Challa.”
Fuck. Steve still hadn’t heard about T’Challa’s death either, obviously. Bucky wanted to scream.
“Okay, why don’t we all… take a break?” He suggested, putting his hand to his forehead. “You must be tired, there’s a spare bedroom upstairs – actually, more than one – why don’t you rest for a bit, and then we’ll contact Wakanda, hm? And we’ll call Sam, so you can hear from him too and he’ll reassure you I haven’t gone completely mad.”
“I already talked to Sam, actually,” Steve admitted.
“What?”
What the fuck?
“Well, I didn’t exactly talk to him, but we exchanged messages. He still uses the same number he had years ago, apparently.” Steve gave a small shrug.
“I believe Sam would have deemed it relevant to tell James you were suddenly back and younger.” Zemo narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
Steve glared at him. “Look, I don’t know why he didn’t tell you. I simply asked Sam where you were, Buck, and then took a jet from where I was when I appeared in this timeline, which is in Germany, for some reason. That’s how I got here,” he said, getting defensive. “To be honest, I was sure I would have found you waiting for me, and then thought Sam must have decided to let my return be a surprise. I had tried to call him with a phone I procured, but he wasn’t answering–”
“He’s on a mission in Canada,” Bucky said dully, trying to process the information.
“–so I wrote him a message, and he seemed a bit surprised but sent me this address.”
Bucky felt his throat closing up as he realized something.
“James? What is it?”
“Stop calling him James, he is–”
Not listening to the other two men anymore, Bucky slowly searched for his phone in the jacket he was wearing, then in his jeans pockets. Fuck. He still forgot to bring it with him sometimes. With Hydra it hadn’t been necessary; they had had other means of finding him and communicating with him when they needed to.
He took the risk of leaving Zemo unprotected as the two continued to bicker and walked over to the kitchen counter, where he’d left the latest model cell phone Zemo had given him for Christmas. He turned it on, and immediately a flood of notifications started to appear: there were six messages and four missed calls from Sam.
Hey man, is everything alright?
Call me back
I may have done something stupid, please CALL. ME. BACK.
Look, if u’re angry at me I understand, but pls at least let me know u’re alive
Bucky?
Shit.