Chapter Text
Bucky felt like he could still smell smoke and gunpowder.
A giant window separated him from a city glowing beneath a starless night sky, allowing him to watch its brightness from the safety of the small kitchen at the end of the hallway. Sharon had given them permission to spend the night in her guest rooms, and Bucky should have been grateful for the soft bed in a shielded room and the chance to finally get a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t, or rather, he didn’t want to sleep right now. The evening had left him all churned up inside; he could feel the shadows of nightmares already lurking beneath his conscious mind.
He knew that Zemo was the one to blame. The way he’d shown him off like his personal attack dog and offered him to Selby like a piece of meat. Like he was nothing more than an object that could be traded for information.
There was also another layer to it, an itch he couldn’t seem to scratch, a feeling he couldn’t put into words. He took a deep breath and let his gaze trail back to the glowing city behind bullet-proof glass.
Relax. You have a name. You’ll find Nagel tomorrow, and Zemo goes back to prison.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and for once he wished that Sam was here and would just talk, about whatever, just to keep his mind from spiraling down the darkest tunnels. If it wasn’t for Sam, he realized, this whole evening might have ended differently. The thought almost made him shudder.
“Trouble sleeping?”
Bucky flinched and turned around, ready to attack – but Zemo calmly raised his hands in defense.
“Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The dim light added a faint gleam to his silky red bathrobe, and Bucky wondered why the hell Zemo had brought it with him, of all things. Probably the habit of a baron.
“What do you want?” Bucky asked harshly.
Zemo was the last person he wanted to deal with right now.
“I just wanted to fetch a glass of water, if you don’t mind,” he replied, as if this was just a regular 2 a.m. kitchen talk, and stepped forward. “May I?”
Bucky took a step aside so Zemo could access the cupboard.
“Thank you, James.”
The words sounded sickeningly gentle. Bucky crossed his arms and leaned back at the kitchen counter, as if to hide his quickening pulse. Zemo filled the glass with tap water and took only a small sip, making it obvious that he hadn’t come here for refreshment.
“I’m afraid,” he said, set down the glass at the counter and turned back to Bucky, “I am the reason why you cannot find rest.”
Bucky eyed Zemo as full of contempt as he could manage. He wanted to let him know that he was on thin ice before he could start playing games.
“Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?”
“I know that this evening must have been horrifying for you, and I apologize. But I have to say, you did very well, James.”
Bucky had been about to come up with a sarcastic reply, but the last part made him swallow it down. There was this feeling again, a tingling in his guts, similar to the one he’d felt when Zemo had said Well done, Soldier back in Selby’s bar. His hands on Bucky’s back and stomach. Soothing. It had been part of the act, but now it wasn’t; now it was real.
Bucky didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it made him feel.
“You should have told me,” he said to shut down the confusing thoughts. The words came out hoarse and not as accusatory as he’d wanted.
“You would have objected,” Zemo replied. “Or at least Sam would have. And I understand your concerns. But I know Madripoor.”
“You used me as bait.”
“Frankly, I might have given you quite an unrealistic expectation regarding my status in this city. I do know influential people, but to them, I am just another man coming to town for business. And a businessman cannot afford showing up at a marketplace empty-handed. I hope you can understand that.”
Bucky scoffed. “What was your plan anyway, sell me?”
“Of course not. As soon as we had the information we needed, Selby would have been a dead woman. I would never dare to leave behind something so valuable.”
Zemo looked at him as if he was waiting for a reaction, waiting for Bucky to avert his gaze, but Bucky refused to oblige. He just swallowed and tried to fight down what was about to boil up on the inside.
Zemo smiled his sly, weasely smile and took a step forward.
“That’s what bothers you, isn’t it. Being traded for something as trivial as a name and a location. Offered to a third-rate night club owner in Low Town, like a whore.”
Every muscle in Bucky’s body tensed up.
“What was that?” he asked, nothing more than a dangerous whisper.
Zemo didn’t seem impressed.
“You heard me, James. And I understand you. I truly sympathize. If one is used to being treated as the greatest of his kind, it must hurt to be given away like this. So cheap.”
“Get out.”
It was supposed to come out as a threatening growl, but instead turned into a hoarse whisper.
Zemo didn’t even seem to consider retreating back to his room.
“I’ve studied Hydra for years. I know what they did to you. I know every file, every recording, and I could read between the lines. Piece together what they didn’t dare to put down on paper. But no matter what they did, they’d always let you know how precious, how valuable you were.”
Buck clenched his metal fist.
“I told you to get out.”
“And that’s what you miss, isn’t it? Being perceived as valuable. Being told that you did well. You achieved the impossible: you’ve broken free from Hydra’s control. You’ve blended into modern life. And yet, did anyone ever acknowledge the hard work you put into it?”
“Shut up.”
He’d brushed a sore spot. After all the lies and manipulation he would have expected from Zemo, this one was true. No one had ever acknowledged that; everyone who knew about his past, except for Sam, treated him with suspicion and would probably prefer to see him dead rather than walking the earth like a ticking time bomb.
“I thought so. And you could have retired, spend the rest of your life surrounded by the amenities of the 21st century. But instead, you joined another fight. At first I wondered why. But after I saw you bringing down all these people in Selby’s bar, it dawned on me. You are hungry for approval.”
“Thin ice, Zemo,” Bucky growled.
Zemo smiled and eyed him from head to toe.
“Not the kind of approval the so-called heroes usually get. You don’t want your face on a magazine or a badge of honor from the president. No, you would be grateful enough if just one person acknowledged how special you are.”
Bucky scoffed in an attempt to cover up the sound of his heartbeat he was convinced Zemo could hear in the silence of the kitchen.
“And that person is you?”
He expected another smug smile on Zemo’s face, but he remained serious this time.
“I know I have a dispute with your kind, and my stance hasn’t changed. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist. Still, I can appreciate a work of art when I see one.”
“A work of art,” Bucky echoed, feeling the heat rise up to his cheeks.
“Hydra deserves their place among the ashes, that’s what I’ve already told your Russian colonel years ago. But that doesn’t meant I can’t admire their creation. There’s an undeniable beauty and elegance in your violence and the way you obey.”
“So what am I, your personal attack dog?” Bucky spat out.
Zemo shook his head. “We both know that this is not true. I just wanted to tell you that I see you as you are, that I appreciate you as you are. I’m sorry that no one else seems to notice. But I realized that this might be a sensitive topic for you, and I don’t want to keep you from getting the sleep you need.” He paused before he added, “I’m very sure that I can give you what you want. All you need to do is ask.”
Before Bucky could respond, Zemo had already turned around, said “Good night, James,” and disappeared into the hallway.
Bucky still stood there, leaning against the counter, fist clenched, heart beating. Dry mouth, heated face.
The city behind the glass was still glowing. He swallowed.
There was no way he’d let Zemo get away with this.