Imprint

Bucky sleeps poorly. This time it’s not the haunting memories of screams, bullets, and the soft crunch of a throat yielding under the crushing strength of his fist that keeps him up. No, it’s the pair bickering on the bed. The first time he jerks awake to a quiet argument hissed between the two.

“-If you would stop stealing my blanket-“

“-not be a problem if you did not insist on sleeping at the very edge-“

“-I’m not going to cuddle up with you!”

“There is a pillow between us.”

“Still too close for me.”

They quiet down when Bucky growls loudly, turning over and folding his pillow over the side of his head to block his ears.

The second time he wakes is when Sam steps on him. “Sorry, Buck. Forgot you were there.”

The third time he wakes is when the ship pitches sharply, rolling him into the wall. He gives up on sleep. Instead he pushes himself up off the floor and wanders bleary eyed into the kitchen to brew a hot pot of coffee and wait his turn for the shower.

He leans close to the mirror in the tiny bathroom, carefully using one of his combat knives to scrape away the stiff hairs of his burgeoning beard. The slow roll of the ship as it crests over waves in the choppy sea makes the task far more difficult than it should be. He can hear the low murmur of conversation filtering through the closed door, the topic of the indecipherable conversation probably about how hilarious it was to use all the hot water before Bucky. Assholes.

He shrugs on his vest, grimacing at the sticky gritty feeling. Sleeping in it hadn’t made it any more pleasant. It was too great a risk to remove, though. Zemo has already proven to be a sneaky little thief by lifting Steve’s notebook in the jet. He presses a hand over the breast pocket, assuring himself the concealed vial of serum is still there.

He exits the lavatory in time to catch Sam saying “Blood isn’t always the solution.”

“Finally clueing us in on that plan?” Bucky asked, joining Sam in the kitchen area and rifling through the cabinets for something to eat. Little single serve boxes of cereal caught his eye. He chose a blue one depicting a cartoon tiger, ripping the top tab open and shaking out little chip like wafers into the palm of his hand.

Zemo stabs a fork into his plate of scrambled eggs, seated comfortably by himself in the booth, taking his sweet time before nodding his head. “I suppose we are far enough away from shore. Karli has made a great enemy of the Power Broker by stealing the Serum. Coincidently, so have we.”

Sam exhales with disbelief. “Pretty sure that was just you.”

“A technical point. I doubt he cares who pulled the trigger, only that it was done by one of us.” He counters. “Regardless, we have a common enemy. I propose this: Bring them together and allow them to destroy each other.”

The suggestion is met with deathly silence. Bucky and Sam stare at the Baron with matching deadpan glares. “Hey Buck.” Sam speaks, his voice dripping with malice. “Does that sound a little familiar to you?”

“Yeah Sam it does.” Bucky replies with equal venom.

The Baron doesn’t even look ashamed. He shrugs, splaying his hands out on the table in a ‘well, what can you do?’ gesture. “It is a proven and effective strategy.”

Sam looks like he’s ready to combust at that ‘proven’ jab, but he doesn’t take the bait. “We’re not throwing Karli to the Power Broker. End of discussion.”

Zemo raises his hands imploringly. “My idea has the greatest chance of resulting in a gratifying outcome for all of us. If I may elaborate?” When neither of the two makes a fuss he leans forward, clasping his hands over the table. “Karli Morgenthau only used a small portion of the stolen serum. You can see how successful her tactics are when only a bare handful of her followers are enhanced. So, why has she not increased their numbers?”

“She doesn’t have enough followers she can trust it with.” Bucky guesses between mouthfuls of tasty sugar flakes.

“That’s not it.” Sam refutes. “There’s thousands of people willing to die for her cause. Dozens already have. She wouldn’t have any problems finding a die-hard fanatic to take the serum.” He leans forward on the counter, chin propped up on the back of his fist and he considers the facts. “She wants to sell it. For what?”

“Food.” The baron supplies. “Blankets. Medicine for the sick. Bombs. Guns and ammo. Everything she needs to create a loyal army. A thousand armed followers spread across the world can do far greater harm than two dozen super soldiers.”

“So, what, her plan was to sell it back to the broker?”

“Yes. But now we have ruined that plan. She has lost her leverage. That makes her desperate, and we can take advantage of that.” The baron pauses briefly to pick up his fork and take a bite of scrambled eggs before continuing. “The GRC is cracking down on the impoverished refugee camps harder than ever. She and her inner circle will be forced to hide, which means that any confrontation with her will involve all of the enhanced individuals. As confident as I am in our abilities, those are not odds I relish facing.”

“So you wana use the Power Broker to even out the odds.” Bucky surmises. “Why would he help us instead of immediately shooting?”

“The serum.” Zemo states and Bucky goes cold. His arm twitches with the urge to pat his pocket again. He knows. How does he know? “There are dozens of scientists who dream of replicating Erskine’s formula, but none have been succeeded without using the blood of an already enhanced soldier as a base.” He continues and Bucky feels his muscles relax. He doesn’t know. “With the serum destroyed she and her followers are the Broker’s last chance at controlling that power. “

“What stops him from taking Bucky?” Sam asks.

Zemo lowers his fork and props his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers over his mouth. “It is a calculated risk. James is as enticing a target. Maybe even more so with his reputation. However, Karli is vulnerable. Her rejection of nations and boarders also strips her of the protections that come with them. She is an easy target and the Broker is nothing if not opportunistic. James, on the other hand.” And Zemo shifts his gaze to Bucky. “…is a valuable asset to your government.”

Bucky surges forward and lunges across the table, shoving Zemo back. He leans in close to the Baron, pressing a hand to his chest to pin him against the soft cushions of the booth. The man sucks in a startled breath on instinct, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted with his breath is caught in his throat. The vulnerability only lasts as long as his surprise. In a moment he is straitening as best he can, regarding Bucky with narrowed eyes. But Bucky can tell the arrogance is a mask. This close he can see the flaws are there in the beads of sweat forming on his brow, the elevated breathing he hasn’t quite gotten under control. Pain lances up Bucky’s arm. It feels like a cramp, muscles twitching and seizing. He changes his grip, twists his fingers into the fabric of the baron’s shirt to pull him forward instead and the spasm subsides. “Don’t. “He warns before Zemo can start needling under his skin with his poisoned words. “Don’t.” He repeats, his voice dark and low and full of the promise of violence. He hates how much it sounds like a plea.

His arm is trembling slightly with the effort of holding still.

The way the Baron observes him makes Bucky’s skin crawl. It feels like Zemo’s deciding the best way to pick him apart, to peel away his layers until there’s nothing left but raw exposed nerve. He wouldn’t have to dig far. Bucky knows.

“…Apologies. A poor choice of words. I didn’t mean anything by it.“ The Baron concedes and Bucky’s fingers loosen their grip on his shirt automatically. The man’s a snake and Bucky’s never seen him pass up and opportunity to strike. The changing dynamic between them is perturbing. He thought he knew where they stood. Neither of them made any secret of their motives. Bucky hated Zemo, Zemo wants to end all super soldiers. It was a foregone conclusion that this whole farce would end with Zemo trying to kill him and Bucky trying to apprehend Zemo. He knew that when he broke the other man out of prison.

Or he thought he did. The man is… polite and apologetic and yielding and not a complete asshole all the time. That solid foundation has been ripped away and Bucky feels like he’s drowning.

He retreats to the bookshelf, crossing his arms tensely and leaning against the wall, looking away. Sam catches his eye and Bucky can see the concern there, can see the unasked question in his eyes. He nods. Yeah, he’ll be ok. “Just…tell us the rest. “

The Baron smooths the rumples in his shirt before continuing. “How it concludes is up to you, Sam. You can successfully convince Karli to stand down and settle the issue of the Broker together, you can let them fight and kill each other, or you can intervene and attempt to apprehend both sides.”

“And you’re ok with that?” Sam probes. “If I can convince Karli you won’t try to put a bullet in her head the moment I look away? Like Nagel?”

The Baron only smiles in reply.

“Right. Thought so.” Sam shoves away from the kitchen counter and flings the cabin door open. It’s still morning but the sky outside is a dark and brooding grey, heavy rainclouds blending with the roiling sea on the horizon. “Come on Bucky, let’s take a walk.”

Bucky waits until they’ve crossed halfway across the small-sized cargo ship before speaking.

 “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.” It’s quite the statement considering he got to hear Steve say ‘Lets zipline onto a speeding train’.

“I think it’s time to call the Dora Milaje.” Sam fumes. “We don’t need him for the rest. I’d rather call in Walker than rely on the Power Broker for backup. “

A large wave tilts the freighter from their right. Bucky latches onto the railing, linking arms with Sam to keep him steady as the whole ship lurches, riding over the crest. “I can’t exactly call them.” He admits sheepishly. “but they’re usually around. Ayo will show when she’s…” He blinks, staring out in the distance. The waves create an ever shifting landscape, made all the worse by the ship's leaning and swaying.

“What is it?” Sam asks, catching on that something caught Bucky’s attention at sea and scanning the horizon.

There. Four… seven… ten little black dots leaving white frothing trails in the darkened waters, heading straight towards the ship.

“Go!” Bucky pushes Sam, helping him fight against the rolling, pitching deck. “I’ll hold them off! Go!”