An Old Uniform
"James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone." Bucky nearly sunk all the way into himself at this point, not wanting to hear another word. Deep down he knew Zemo was right. The Winter Soldier would be the best way to accomplish this mission, but Bucky didn't want to confront that. Ever since that day on the helicarrier he'd been running as far away as he could from the soldier. He'd mostly been pointed towards Steve if he was truthful and since he had left, had been more so running around aimlessly trying to find himself. But Zemo wanted to set his course right back to where he started and he couldn't reject. The feeling felt all too familiar. Bucky heard the rest of the plan but as if he were listening to a radio in another room. The only bit he needed to pay much attention to now was that there was clothing waiting for him in the plane's bathroom. Zemo must have planned everything since the moment Bucky had mentioned the serum. The thought of him even pretending to have as much control over him as his handlers, down to the clothes he wore made him sick.
Bucky kept his eyes fixed out the window and only spoke in short replies for the rest of the journey. He waited until they had touched down to remove himself from his seat and go change. He didn't want those clothes on his body for any longer than absolutely necessary. He closed himself in the room and turned to see the uniform precisely folded on the counter, a mask carefully placed on top. He moved the mask to the side and held up the top to inspect it. It wasn't the usual uniform but it looked like something HYDRA would approve of. It didn't have as many holsters as he was used to but he figured he'd likely have to leave most of his weapons behind to speak to this 'friend' of Zemo's anyway. He put it on in a timely manner, not wanting to hold up the group but found he couldn't close the fastenings on the back and shoulders himself. All Bucky could do was stare into the mirror, unmoving. The bastard had made sure the uniform was designed like HYDRA's. No way to put it on or remove it himself. It had been made that way so there wasn't any way the soldier could change and disguise himself without orders, but also to make sure the soldier always knew who was in control, who owned him.
There was a knock upon the door and he couldn't find it within himself to answer. Zemo let himself in and James didn't turn to stop him. He distantly thought that Sam must still be dressing because he'd never just let Zemo barge in. The Baron closed the door behind him and moved to stand behind the taller man. Bucky wanted to scream at him but his eyes simply tracked the movements in the mirror and kept forward. There seemed to be a glint of satisfaction in Zemo's eyes as he spoke. "Allow me," is all he said as he closed the remaining fastenings. Bucky stood still as a statue as straps were pulled and buckles snapped closed. The suit allowed a full range of movement but still remained tight enough to make him feel suffocated. Zemo pulled on one of Bucky's shoulders to turn him and Bucky let him, eyes cast down to the floor in humiliation. He felt Zemo's hand tilting his chin up and looked into the man's eyes, tears barely pricking his own. Zemo reached behind him to the counter and took the mask in his hands. He held it against his face with one hand as he secured it with the other. Bucky wanted to lash out, hurt the other man, figure out a different plan with Sam. But he just stood there retreating further into himself as Zemo's hands pulled back and he looked upon him with a smile. His head fell once again and Zemo's touch reappeared on his chin, tilting it back up.
"Head up, Soldat." Is all he said before leaving the room.