#dark!zemo

You glance over at Shantal. She’s making eyes at the guy who brought her a lime twist cocktail. He’s into her too. And Traci grinds on the dance floor with a buff guy you know spends more time in the gym than doing actual work. And you, well, you get the cream of the crop, don’t you? 

As the man approaches, you try to ignore him. Try not to see him. Maybe he’ll get the hint. You’re really not interested. 

He doesn’t. He sits beside you on the long bench behind the table and sets the second martini in front of you. You repress a cringe. You hate to be rude but you can’t help another giggle. 

He looks older up close. You could tell before he’s beyond your age range. Do you have one of those? Not like you have a vast field for selection. Next to the young studs your friends have reeled in, his seniority is even more stark. 

“You look lonely,” he slithers. 

You put on your best smile. It’s hard. You’re mortified. 

“Um, thanks, that’s nice but...” you look away and wet your lips, laughing again. “I’m sorry I’m not looking--” 

“Mm, you could’ve fooled me the way you keep peeking over at your friend. You are rather green.” 

You wince at the insult. You’re not jealous but you do wish you could find them as east as Shantal. You shrug. 

“I appreciate the gesture but I think I might be a bit... young for you,” you suggest. 

It’s his turn to laugh and he does. Heartily. He stirs the cocktail with the toothpick, three olives skewered upon it. He raises his chin and inhales through his nose, looking around the flashing club. Why is he even there? It can’t be much fun hanging out with coeds at that age. 

He looks at you smugly, “do you have any idea who you’re laughing at?” 

His expression turns dire and your stomach drops. Something in his dark eyes strangles you. You shake your head and look at the stemmed glass. 

“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” you utter. 

“We’re meeting. Now.” 

“Right,” you hesitate. This is awkward. You don’t know what he wants you to say. “I am the designated driver so--” 

“Don’t lie to me,” he sneers. “I’ve watched you keep pace with these sluts you call friends. You’re slurring right now and I can smell the vodka on your breath,” he leans in, “I’d rather taste it.” 

“Excuse me?” You sputter. 

“You’ve got a pretty mouth,” his eyes flick down to your lips, “go on, have a sip.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“I bought you a drink so don’t be so impolite,” he retorts. “I’m sorry, did you have a line up?” 

He peers around again, even more smug than before. That hurts.  

“You know, you catch more bees with honey--” 

“I already own you,” he insists, “you’re in my club, you have my liquor in your stomach, and you are sat at my table. So, show some manners and drink what I give you.” 

You shake your head. This man is confounding. Is he flirting or demeaning you? 

“I recommend you weigh this very carefully. I don’t just own this snake’s pit. The landlord you pay for their basement, I know him. He pays me his dues. And the college campus, yes, well, several professors have a taste for gambling, and I suppose you would need to deal with the banks...” 

“You’re lying--” 

You held yourself back in the days Zemo was gone. Scott kept Rebecca entertained with various magic tricks, she loved every one. Asking if he had any other magic friends, she would have loved Victor, but he didn’t appear, but then Zemo wasn’t here. On the last night Hope told you that you didn’t have to take the sleeping tablets, she didn’t know Zemo like you did. He would know if you didn’t and someone would be punished and you weren't about to let that be her or Scott, they gave up their time to look after you and Rebecca, were endlessly kind when you had held them in the grips of your power. Didn’t flinch away, even gave Zemo a quinjet key chain, which you suspected wasn't just a key chain. Hope was so worried when you woke up screaming she ordered Scott out of your room, just because he was male, they had been told what happened or at least had some idea. The shame burned within you, you were not frightened of men, just one really, the one you lived with, the one you were married to, the one there would never be any escape from again.

“You know we lost each other for a while, maybe someone is out there looking for you.” Scott said lovingly holding Hope's hand over a steaming cup of chamomile tea. Your face etched with disdain, you could comment that it was an odd thing to say, it really was, Scott still had optimism, after everything that had happened, after how he had been treated, by his own government. Even after he saved the world, There was only one person looking for you and you walked straight back into his house.

“No, there isn’t, we would have found them by now.” Hope added as she kicked Scott under the table. On some level she knew, she knew that this was a prison, hell you could even say it and they couldn't take you away. She rolled her eyes at the buzzing of her phone, Zemo checking in again, which felt like an alarm going off at five minute intervals. Zemo couldn't exactly refuse any mission because of his own pardon, couldn't claim he had you to take care of, he had to pretend that everything was just as fine as you did, especially as he finished the job you and Maria started, you no longer existed, Zemo took it all.

–

Waking up to an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew Zemo was back, that had to be it. Zemo was back, he had to be, that or something worse, not that you could discount that, there always seemed to be something worse. You were so cynical now, you could just lay in bed forever until the day you didn’t wake up again, get the freedom Victor longed to give you. The sleeping tablets took you under, but they didn't keep you asleep, today they had, at least you hadn't spent half the night pacing your room. Grunting you knew that Zemo would drag you out of bed if he had to and you knew it would take very little for him to feel like he had to. Huffing at yourself, you couldn’t exactly complain, you wanted this, you willingly came here, you coerced, planned, even threatened Maria. Swinging your legs over the bed, you took what you hoped would be a calming breath, placing your hand on the edge of the bed to push yourself up, you stared at the alarmingly familiar black bracelet. Hell no. Prying it with your fingers, clawing at it with your nails, there was only one difference, this wasn’t the one you wore at the raft, this was vibranium, indestructible. This was originally designed to shock you at any moment. Zemo couldn't expect you to wear this, lying to yourself again that he couldn’t make you, when you both knew he could. Would he really be so cruel as to shock you, to have the fear of having bolts of electricity move through your body at any given moment?

“I’m not wearing this.” You told Zemo, finding him walking to the kitchen with an increasingly happy Rebecca.

“Strange, it looks to me as if you are wearing it right now.”

Fuck you.

Fuck no there was no way, you needed Maria, you needed Shuri, you needed to get this torture device off your body immediately, well Zemo removed anything that could even be considered a weapon a while ago, you hadn't seen his sword for ages. You wondered how strong the doors were, if you would have time to smash the door enough times to get the job done, somehow Hydra had done you a favour, you knew what it felt like to lose a limb.

I’ll cut my arm off.

A hand clamped around your forearm like a vice, as Rebecca entered the kitchen you were pulled back and slammed into the hallway wall. Zemo pressed himself firmly against you. You swung your head and Rebecca was in her own little world. Zemo was so close you felt his nose graze your cheek as he whispered into the shell of your ear. “That thought is never to cross your pretty little mind again, do you understand?”

“You're hurting me.” Your lip quivered, heart drumming in your ears, muscles straining as your skin crawled.

“If I find so much as a scratch from any ill attempt to remove this, you will find yourself handcuffed to my person permanently, then you will discover what real pain is.” Zemo promised with a voice devoid of all emotion while you frantically shook your head. Zemo gently lifted your chin with his other hand, heat and fury radiating from him and you whimpered, barely able to hold yourself up, you relented and looked at him. His eyes bore into you unashamed, that darkness ,that fire was there but there was something else, his eyes burned you. Did he even care? After all the pain he had caused? Trembling in his arms you hoped he hadn't seen the scratches already around the watch.

“I’m sorry.” you gasped out. That seemed to disgust Zemo he released his hold and stepped into the kitchen, you slid down the wall, more like fell, placing your hands into the plush carpet in an attempt to ground yourself, to not cave to the impending panic attack, desperately trying to regulate your breathing a hand appeared over your own. Victor. You clung onto him as if he were the only hope you had. Rebecca called out to you and you retched, you had to endure this. You wanted this, you just didn’t think he would be so callous with Rebecca so close.

“You can survive anything Sweetheart.” Victor reminded you. Rubbing your hand over your face you stood, still weak at the knees, plastered a smile on your face and entered the kitchen, hearing Victor on your trail.

“I can count to ten!” Rebecca exclaimed, with one little finger she pointed in the air as she counted off, you forced your smile to get bigger for her.

“You know Rebecca, you have ten fingers, as do I. You should check to see if Sunshine does.” Zemo smirked at you. You fucking asshole. He brought Rebecca into this, made her part of your little spat. She would now remember you had ten fingers. You held them out and your head high as she counted them off. Just for a moment you imagined she was counting up the moment you exploded, that you grabbed the nearest object and repeatedly smash it into Zemo’s face.

“I wish you would.” Victor sang which caused a genuine smile to peep through, his commentary wasn’t exactly child friendly. “You could always say it was an accident.” A laugh almost escaped through your lips, which was only fuelled by the confusion on Zemo’s face.

Another pointless driving lesson, at least Victor was sitting in the back, huffing and tutting at the pretence that you couldn’t drive, or pilot or a jet, or that you were this clueless. Zemo reeled off his stupid instructions. You didn't even know why Zemo agreed to teach you to drive, it wasn't like you were going anywhere. With Rebecca on your lap, driving very slowly around the trees, you gently hit the brakes when a squirrel ran across your path. Rebecca planted her feet on your thighs and hands on the wheel, enamoured by the little furry thing. Watching it, brushing its face with its tiny little paws you were in awe of her sparkling eyes, how its fluffy little tail could bring such joy into her heart, he ran off and she moved her face closer to yours with a big grin, a moment shared between you both.

Zemo captured it on his phone, he played the video for you and you would cherish it forever, the intimacy of it, you both so happy, the sun shining on both of you, so serene, almost as if you were glowing, that joy was lost when you watched Zemo send that video to Maria with a triumphant expression. He had you dead to rights, you were both playing an elaborate game of chess. Sure, you could blow the whole board off the map, but you both knew you wouldn't. He had solid evidence that you were thriving, happy, safe, just as he did before.

“Kill him.” Victor commanded, feeding into your darker desires. And so you opened the car door, gently lifted Rebecca out, made sure she was steady on her feet and hit the gas, laughing maniacally into the air as you sought your revenge, hurtling towards a tree, angling the car to make sure Zemo would die on impact. If only. If only you had the courage, if only Victor were really here, if only you could open the car without Zemo, you couldn't cause Rebecca that much pain, you would live on, whatever that meant, as long as she was happy.

“Driving requires two hands Rebecca, isn’t that right Sunshine?” Zemo cooed.

“Yes, it does. You have two hands just like dad and me.” You agreed with Zemo feeling the burn of Victor’s gaze on you and the start of his chuckle as you continued allowing malice to slip into your voice. “Uncle Bucky has two hands, doesn’t he?” You smiled sardonically at Zemo knowing you left him stumped, what was he going to do? Deny it? Say Bucky was defective in some way and by extension you? That you weren't whole as a person? You hummed to yourself satisfied at the blood curdling laugh you elicited from Victor.

“He is insufferable.” Victor scorned.

-

Victor gave you ideas, plenty of ideas, kick Zemo down the stairs, push his head into the boiling soup he made for dinner, hold his head under Rebecca’s bath, all of which formed an incredible and vivid visual in your mind. The darkness was always there and now the person who taught you how to harness it was with you, encouraging you to act on it, painting a picture of every scenario. That was Victor's solution, to stay safe he argued you had to eliminate Zemo. You asked him how you would get supplies, money, how you were supposed to provide for Rebecca in a prison you couldn't leave, he had his magic, he had his intellect, you didn’t have those things. He would have this bracelet off in five seconds flat, break down whatever shield there was preventing your escape. A knock came on your door after Rebecca went to bed, no doubt Zemo and his shitty pills, opening the door you held out your hand, just get it over with to see Zemo’s sleeves rolled up and a matching thick black bracelet, but why would he wear one? This wasn’t the raft he didn’t need to. You believed the guards only wore them so the chain could form in between. THE CHAIN! Your mind screamed as Zemo’s bracelet touched yours and a black chain appeared in between them. You stared at it in horror, what the sordid implications of this little chain meant. Zemo would be by your side for every waking moment, every sleeping moment, he would be in your bed, how would you use the toilet? How would you shower? Dress? Bile rose up your throat and you had to force it back down, frozen on the spot, you had no idea what to do.

Before you could form any sort of response, Zemo pulled on his handcuff causing you to spin, lifting his arm over you, he grasped your waist ruthlessly and pulled you back into him. Victor help me, help please. Zemo kicked your legs out and as you screamed his hand covered your mouth. You knew what this meant, knew how your body would be violated, every hot breath of his that tickled your cheek, felt like an unwanted touch. Zemo fumbled in his pocket and you screamed louder, flailing against him, trying to get him away from you, you muscles contracted on memory. Zemo held his hand up in front of you with those wretched pills. Did he expect you to take them from his hand like a dog? You nodded your head, you would rather be under for this, when he tipped those pills into your mouth, you felt how much you hated him, with every fibre of your being. You hated him, hated Wanda for digging you out, hated Maria for bringing you back, she was not your guardian angel, she dragged you back to hell, you could have been free from this, free from the endless cycle of pain. Free from feeling your heart shatter over and over.

I made the wrong choice.

Once again you had been presented with a choice and instead of killing Zemo which he rightly deserved, you killed Victor. You choose Zemo again. Metal fingertips grazed yours, urging you to try, to see if your powers worked. Even though you knew how to get out of this Victor trained you specifically to, to fight Zemo. You couldn't, you wouldn't fight Zemo. Victor rested his forehead against yours and you wanted to feel relief from the strong arms wrapped around you, the hands clutching your waist, the hands that Victor swore to remove if they touched you again.

“This isn’t real.” Victor lied echoing the words you said to him in Hydra’s box, cupping your face with his hands and kind eyes.

You're not real.

Snivelling at your situation Victor lied again.“Precisely Sweetheart. I’m dead, I can’t be here, so you can’t either. It's not real, just close your eyes, it will all be over soon.”

Lying to yourself again, telling yourself that this would be the last time. This isn't real.

–

“Shhhhhh Sunshine, I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Zemo’s voice broke, soothing you again as your body jerked in his arms. Zemo sobbed into the crook of your neck, he had lost you again. He failed. Failing as he always had, he couldn't save you. You always believed in him. Your pain was indelible as was his. He did not have the heart, the compassion, the patience required, you needed someone like yourself. And there was no one quite like that, no one that could make the sun burst out of them, no one, just you. He wanted to cure your frail body, patch up your heart, slay every demon, heal every wound, wipe your tears, hold your hand as you screamed. How to take it all back? How to fix your broken heart? How to undo it all? He desecrated you and destroyed you. All of your suffering, it was all him. And you were still paying the price. He would dedicate his life to you, even if you continuously rejected him he would remain at your side forever.

He wondered who was more of a shell. Whose gaping wound that would never heal hurt the most, how much longer could he endure not being able to hold you? How much more he could repress? How much more torment he could take? How this felt like death by a thousand cuts. The conversations with himself, the back and forth and for what? What would it change now. You hated him. There wasn't a single space in his heart that didn't still love you. He wanted you to turn on him, make him suffer as you had.

He was not perturbed by the shuffling of feet in his house. New guests had arrived, perhaps they could coax a smile out of you, penetrate the towering walls you had built. Perhaps the old faces would make everything stop, if only Oeznik were here. He imagined if Oeznik were here, he wouldn’t be, he would have shot him dead the moment you were discovered. Oh how he wished he died in Sokovia, then you would be free. You had grown to detest yourself, believing you could only bring pain. You even rejected his smiles. Rebecca seemed to pain you also, he understood why, he wanted to covet her innocence, he just couldn't bring himself to force her to see the realities of the world.

“What the hell Zemo.” Bucky hissed, entering the room, lying to Sarah about checking in with General Ross, no doubt hearing two heartbeats behind this door.

“Don’t take her from me, please James.” Zemo begged, pulling you back. “She threatened to dismember herself. She does not sleep James, her mind is haunting her, automatically assuming the worst, she cannot, shhhhhhh-” He sputtered out, stroking his thumb across your knuckles, lulling you back to sleep again, bringing you closer to him, so James couldn’t snatch you away. “I regret the day she ever met us.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied softly, helplessly looking on. You would have been terrified, but Zemo was so broken, no one saw how desperate he had been all these years, how he barely slept, how every moment was hollow, the despair he had looking for you, no one had seen the regret that taunted him. There wasn't anything Zemo wouldn't do for you, how he would do anything to make you right again. How you still had all of Zemo, how your face haunted Zemo’s dreams.

“It feels as if she is dying.” Zemo admitted. Watching your own mind poison you, steal away your peace, steal away your soul. Watching you yearn for the man who sold you to Hydra. You were growing weaker and weaker by the day, refusing food, refusing sleep, refusing everything. But your thoughts, they were the darkest they had ever been and he just had to sit and watch you torture yourself. You wouldn't survive this. If Zemo could keep you asleep like this forever, safe in his arms, so at peace, he would.

“She shouldn’t have saved us.”

“That wasn’t intentional, she knew we would have prevented her, she needed us out of her way.” Zemo knew he would never have agreed to your sacrifice, he would have handed over the world and never given it a second thought. Bucky pulled the sheets from the bed and draped them over you, he sat for hours watching Zemo calm your unconscious form, somewhere in there, you knew Zemo would protect you. That wouldn’t matter now, Zemo handcuffed you to him, it was over, you would never trust either of them again. He remembered that, hiding in Bucharest, knowing he could only trust one man he couldn't quite remember, Steve. You didn't have anyone like that, not anymore. Then after Wakanda, you came along, trusted him implicitly, saw the good in everyone including him, he was only with Sarah now because a part of him, that he could have lived with, was somewhere in your mind. Not that he or Zemo were letting you go anywhere, they made a pact it would be different this time. As he watched Zemo’s tears fall onto your body, he wasn’t sure it could ever be, if he thought Zemo was over protective before, that was nothing compared to now. If this was Sarah, he would hold her and never let go. “Just a while longer James.”

–

Having no time to compose yourself hearing the rush at your door, burst open and before you could focus you were bundled by two very excited boys. AJ and Cass, the ones who felt your presence. You wanted to hug them forever.

That was short lived when Sarah rushed in pulling them off. “What did I say!” She scolded them. She held her hand out to you. You ignored her and pushed yourself back up, pulling on your sleeve to fully cover the watch still firmly wrapped around your wrist, which almost felt like Hydra's hand clamps, you stretched your fingers out, just to check that you could and Sarah’s face dropped. You forgot, forgot for a moment that now you were something to be feared, especially around her children. You would never get used to that. “I’m Sarah, I- erm, I-” She stumbled over her words, no doubt because this was an odd introduction, she knew you, you could see the disbelief on her face, that she was looking at someone she grieved for, someone who wasn’t supposed to be here, well you agreed more and more with that with each passing day.

“MEOOOOOWWWW!”

Alpine?

You looked down at your feet to a graceful white cat meowing from what you recall for the first time. She tilted her cute little head at you, you crouched down and she didn't turn on you, swishing her tail with an air of importance, she pounced into your arms, nuzzling into your chest with loud purrs. Well at least someone was pleased to see you. Running your fingers through her soft fur, you took solace in the fact that someone even if it were an animal who knew you from the past just accepted you the way you were.

“Bucky promised pancakes, let’s go.” AJ grabbed your hand and started to drag you out of the room. Bucky was here, just great, fucking perfect. Sarah started on AJ again telling him that he had just met you and he shouldn't be dragging you around, you assured her it was fine and walking behind them, you couldn't quite believe how big they had both gotten. AJ was as tall as Sam now and Cass wasn't far behind, you missed so much. You rolled your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the disgust you felt as you entered the dining room, put on that default smile that was more you showing your teeth. Rebecca was already happily chomping down and the boys soon followed. You snuggled into Alpine, taking the smallest sip of water, forgoing any food. You used to squirm under Zemos intense gaze but now, he could go fuck himself, Bucky too with his staring. Bucky hadn't even greeted you, he just watched your every move. Was he pissed you had Alpine? He took the fucking cat from you too. As soon as Rebecca shuffled down to leave the table, you stood, wanting to be as far away from adults as you could.

“Would it be agreeable to you to eat something more substantial?” Zemo whispered. Eat something more substantial? You didn’t have much of an appetite, the thought of putting a forkful of food that either of them prepared made you retch, you couldn't stop it, covering your hand with your mouth. Zemo looked stunned and you gulped, ready to mumble another apology.

“Don’t apologise. Are you unwell?”

You shook your head, Zemo gave you a look of sadness, he glanced at Bucky, who had his ear prominently in your direction and you wished you could silence your heart. Rebecca impatiently tugged on Zemo’s arm, you could see he wanted to say more, momentarily you allowed every emotion to show on your face. Fuck you, you fucking sadist. Zemo nodded as if to accept your words and everyone filed out of the room. That thing Rebecca was so impatient for, that she was scared she would miss, the rain. The fucking rain. You announced that you didn't like the rain and stayed in with Alpine, as if she would ever allow water to taint her delicate fur. Holding her, sleeping in your arms, as Bucky and Zemo watched you through the window. Declining the coffee Sarah offered you as she stood next to you, you were impressed you didn't blurt out that you weren’t allowed coffee, or baths, or your own thoughts, or to go outside, or to breathe air without Zemo’s say so. The rain caused Rebecca’s hair to stick to her face but that didn’t stop her ever so happy laughs, splashing in every forming puddle, she climbed up Bucky’s arm and he lifted her up into the air so she could be closer to the rainfall.

“Rebecca is the real magic Sweetheart, not me.” Victor said from your other side, with a dreamy tone.

She is naive.

Victor lingered with you all day, silently by your side like a bodyguard. When everyone returned from the outside, all the children wrapped in huge white towels, Zemo handed you the phone he gave you, which you didn't carry with you, as he was monitoring it. You looked at him with wary eyes, what could he have done to it? He scrolled through a few times to reveal your old playlist, he put your music onto it. Something that was yours, just yours, all of your music about pain, how could you have ever been so blind? What even was this? An apology of some kind? Still you quietly mumbled a thank you. Making an active effort to avoid both Zemo and Bucky you stayed quiet and trailed along after Rebecca all day, who was slightly jilted that the rain had stopped. Alpine wandered off when it came to dinner and as you knew, you would be told once again you couldn’t help you waited in the dining room. Watching AJ and Cass pander to whatever Rebecca wanted to do, they also showed you where some snacks were hidden and as they ate them, so did you. You slid AJ’s tablet over, careful not to search anything you opened the news. Scrolling past every awful thing going on in the world because that all could have stopped had you not killed Victor. Which he took great satisfaction in pointing out as he tutted and huffed at everything you read, making his snide little comments.

“Look at this,” You gratefully took another nut that he cracked with his metal hand. “This college kid has found a way to clear oceans and he has got funding, can you imagine all of the plastic gone? It doesn't disturb the habitat either, this is great,” You said animatedly, taking another nut. “Finally a way to clear all the damage humanity has done, this could start healing the world, you-” You lifted your head to look into Victor’s emerald eyes only to be met with blue ones. The air tore itself from your lungs, looking at the pile of nut shells underneath Bucky’s hand and a walnut in his palm. You got so distracted you thought it was Victor, damn that metal hand and by the look on Bucky’s face he figured it out, you thought he was Victor. Pushing the chair out to run, to get away, your foot caught the leg on the chair and you crashed straight down onto the hardwood floor. A hand came into your vision, coupled with the black from the fall, you turned away only to smack your face straight back into the chair. Stop it, stop it, STOP!. You felt the ghost of a touch linger on your back and shrieked, turning again, your hand slipping on the blood dripping from your nose, blindly crawling straight into the edge of the table.

The table flew into the air followed by a sickening crunch, porcelain shattering, shards of glass slicing, setting your nerves alight. Hands gripped your upper arms to stop you moving. Splinters of wood littered down as the arms shook you to stop your head jerking in every direction trying to assess where the threat was.

“You're hurting yourself, look at me!”

Sam? Sam moved his hands to gently place them at the side of your head, instinctively your hands grabbed his wrists. He was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, nodding, wanting you mimic him. You didn't even notice him arrive, you gripped him warm wrists, shaking, seeing little flakes of sawdust rest on the hairs of his arms. You ruined dinner, now you had a moment you could smell the tomato sauce that was now painting the ceiling. Catching Zemo out of the corner of your eye, who was looking at you with concern as Rebecca marvelled at Bucky’s strength. Bucky had both boys at either side, no doubt making sure the remnants of the large table didn’t injure them. Sarah looked terrified, hands over her mouth, trembling as much as you were. Zemo handed Rebecca to her and she told the boys to follow. You shouldn't have come back, you couldn’t do this, everyday was proving that. What if you used your powers?

“What did I do?” You whispered to yourself.

“Nothing.” Zemo left no room for argument, careful to stay back. “James startled you, it’s not your fault.”

Yes it is.

–

Sam helped you clean up, somehow you did not break your nose. You had bit your tongue and Victor said you would have black eyes by the morning. You stayed in your room, waiting for Zemo to come along with his shitty pills but he didn't. Sam knocked on your door, you pretended to be asleep. Your head felt tight, crushed by the never ending thoughts and the persistent screaming. You had several texts from Maria having missed her nightly text yesterday, you promised you were fine. You desperately wanted to see her, Zemo let Sam in so Maria should be no different. After the bruises went down, she couldn’t see you like this, she wouldn't believe that it was your fault either. No more distractions, just keep your back to a wall, smile and nothing else. You were offered an ice pack by Bucky who clearly waited outside your room until you decided to leave, he insisted, so much so, you quickly realised, you would be offered it continually, by everyone until you gave in. Sam tried to make conversation with you, so did Sarah, she told you all about the boys, how they were getting on with school, how she was still running her community projects and the fishing business.

“Are you ok here?” She said so quietly you barely heard her.

“Zemo is very kind to me.” You answered with a bright smile and Victor clapped you on the back in a gesture of a job well done.

<”I believe her, Doc taught her to lie.”> Bucky muttered in Russian to Zemo. <”She still has her powers, I can feel it and I know she remembers”> Bucky said with a remorseful tone.

<”We deserve it dont we? I await the day she seeks revenge on us. As far as I can tell she does not remember anything.”>

“Sweetheart, see even they believe they should die. Just a quick clench of those fingers and that’s it, please Sweetheart.” Victor implored.

Don’t encourage me.

After dinner in which you claimed you weren't hungry again. Everyone sat out on the patio, which you learned Sam built. He spent a lot of time here while you were gone, Oeznik was mentioned and you had to blink a few times, if he were alive, you could do this. Sam had more time with his nephews taken from him and this time it was because of you. Sam suggested a picture which surprised you, surely no pictures of you were allowed ever again, you went to enough trouble to erase them all.

“No Becca, you should go and sit with your m-” Sarah cut herself off, her beautiful children, gave her a look they mastered from the woman herself telling her to shut the fuck up. Bucky ran his hands down her back and you saw her lip wobble, her jaw clenched and you wanted to tell her that it was ok, you choose this, that this was a better option to keep Rebecca safe, to keep everyone safe, she turned on her heel and marched back into the house, Bucky and Sam on her tail. Seeing Zemo in your peripheral vision you positioned yourself so Rebecca was in between you, how fucked up that you had to use her as a shield. You claimed to need the bathroom, Zemo pulled some headphones from his pocket and your phone with instructions to not remove them under any circumstance.

Slowly and silently removing your shoes, you tiptoed down the hallway, Sarah was having a harder time with this lie than anyone else. Perhaps because she had a perspective no one else did, she was a mother too and you could garner from her point of view you were being robbed of motherhood. You were already robbed, stripped of everything, surely someone had explained that it was in Rebecca's best interest to not be related to you.

“She isn’t even a person anymore. Tell her that little girl is hers.” Sarah blubbered from inside the study.

“Doll, we have been over this.”

“Bucky-”

“ENOUGH! You think it will help her to remember everything Hydra did? Everything Victor did, remember what she did?” Bucky paused as if he were considering something. “Remember what we did? You call her and Zemo a beautiful runaway love? The night he took her, he brought her here, tied her up, cut into her, shot her, that's what all those scars on her arms are. Don’t look at Sam like that he knew, we all knew. You wanna go out and tell Rebecca that her precious Uncle Bucky strangled her ma to death? Fucking do it, you think we don’t all feel like shit, WE DID THIS!”

Sarah wailed so loud you were sure her heart was physically breaking, your past hurt her, she cried for it more than you had. You put your hand on the door and knew Bucky’s head would have turned to the door, slipping off the headphones with an air of confusion, you calmly walked over to Sarah who was doing a terrible job of stopping crying and wiping away her tears, you wrapped your arms around her and asked her what happened.

–

The next day the bruises had started to set in which made you look horrendous. Sarah announced they were leaving, which you knew was your fault, they were meant to stay for a lot longer, she couldn't handle it, you could barely handle it. There was so much more noise in the house, which you couldn't seem to cope with, so much so you jumped at your own shadow straight into Zemo’s waiting arms. You hated him, you knew you hated him and yet you were intrinsically drawn to him, that was the second time you sought solace in him when you thought you were in danger. You pulled away quickly rushing to the kitchen where the kids ate on the chairs and the adults stood around. Zemo couldn't take his eyes off you, full of devotion, full of dismay. Which you couldn't quite understand, your entire relationship was a lie, what was there to be devoted to? The temptation to flaunt your empty, ring less hand in his face was only spurred on by Victor, you could imagine the distaste across his face. It’s not like you unloved Zemo randomly, it came in bits and pieces, until you had built a heart he couldn't touch, if you believed you had one left.

Did he ever love me? You asked Victor half wanting him to answer the same question, Did Victor love you for you? Or because you were the image of Valeria? Did Zemo ever love you? Could he even love? He loved Rebecca so much so you could feel it, see it in every action. Was I ever happy? You asked Victor again wanting him to answer, you didn't get one, not from either of them, how you wished you could believe that your happiness wasn't all a fallacy, did you lie to yourself for every moment? That dance? The nights in the raft? The baths? The nights Zemo stayed awake with you when you couldn’t sleep? Every touch? every kiss? Was it all a lie?

It’s limerence, not love.

Victor had an answer this time. “Remind me how you got your powers again?”

–

You were sitting outside with Zemo and Rebecca, who was insisting on the daisy chain Zemo was making for her be bigger as she intended to wear it as a crown for her newly found princess status which Victor enjoyed a little too much, reminding you that had his plan come to fruition she would have ruled the world with him and he would have forged her a real crown. In between blowing on dandelions to, in her words, 'set the fairies free.’ You wondered if you could be a fairy. She haphazardly made you a bracelet and asked Zemo if you could be royalty too and you wondered if the ground could just swallow you up. The daisy chain was falling apart in your hands much like this life. Zemo held his hand out and you clutched it to your chest, yes it was stupid and the flowers would die by morning but it was yours, and you didn't have much in this world, why the fuck would he take it from you.

“You wish to preserve this, yes?” He asked gently as you nodded and he sauntered off returning with a thick and heavy dictionary, he had lined it with paper and explained the process of pressing flowers, A way to keep Rebecca’s gift forever.

“Thank you.” You told him later on as you crept into Rebecca's room as she listened intently to Zemo, you selected one of her books and wished her a goodnight. Every book you tried to smuggle away from the study disappeared, for whatever reason Zemo didn’t want you reading them, probably thought they could trigger some awful memory, in your defence you did not finish Dracula. Right on cue the knock came on the door and you held your arm out with that bracelet weighing it down and Rebecca’s book was ripped straight from your hand. How were you supposed to continue with this turbulence? Anticipate his ill temper? What could happen in a child’s book that he didn't want you to read? Backing away with your hands in the air, you wondered what you could have possibly done to antagonise him? You hadn't given Zemo any reason to be, well Zemo.

“The princess is kidnapped in this particular story.” Zemo grumbled, yet he remained where he was, outside of your room.

“It’s a kids book, she’ll get rescued right?”

“Actually the princess Belle, falls in love with her captor.” Zemo said through gritted teeth. Victor burst into laughter and you glared at him. There were children’s books promoting this shit? You picked that one of all the ones she had? Fuck Hydra for stealing your childhood, fuck Victor for laughing, fuck Zemo, Fuck all of it. Zemo’s eyes moved in Victor’s direction and you shifted your body just in case. You waited for Zemo to ask if someone was here with you, for him to threaten to kill him, to carve Victor up and serve him to you for breakfast.

“Would you like to read it?”

“Fuck No.” You blurted out, “I mean no thank you.” You quaked, Zemo opened his mouth to reply then shook his head, more at himself, he didn’t even wish you good night, he just drifted off. As soon as he did you pointed a finger in Victor’s face warning him to keep his mouth shut, you didn’t want to know anymore about beauty and the beast.

–

Over breakfast the next morning, Rebecca tugged on your hands and motioned for you to lower yourself down to her level. She kissed her hand and prodded your purple ringed eyes, she was so sweet and kind. A treasure just like Oeznik said. “Magic kisses take all the pain away.” You watched her parrot that lie, back to you as if she truly believed it with all her heart, a lie you taught her and you felt something within you slowly but surely switch off.

Everyone took little pieces and the worst part was that you let them, you sold your soul a long time ago. To endure this, to survive it, you needed to adapt, which became surprisingly easy, especially as you just stopped feeling anything. You didn't feel disgust when Zemo came knocking with those pills, stopped feeling pangs of hunger, even the fear subsided, you became numb to it, apathetic, as if you couldn’t feel anyone there, you didn't care what Zemo did and soon after you stopped finding joy in Rebecca. You tried so hard to bask in her light. How could you enjoy her happiness when her life was a lie? She was in this hell, this prison too. She was blind to it all, you couldn't exactly tell her to open her eyes. Even the glow you once believed Zemo had was diminishing, if he ever had one, it was probably just another figment of your stupidity.

Even your natural fear response to Zemo faded, whenever he would reach out and then quickly retract his hand, you felt nothing. Nothing could hurt you, but that meant nothing could make you happy either, there wasn’t any comfort here, there was just your silence, only speaking if you were directly spoken to, placidly walking head down, through the house that you once believed was paradise, you had both burned that to ruins. You didn’t even find it demoralising when Zemo served everything to you on plastic plates in bite size pieces, no humiliation, just an aching darkness. You didn’t fit in here, but did you really fit in anywhere? Weeks passed with your despondent staring, no more smiles formed on your face, they felt foreign. Waiting for something to bring you back to life. Waiting and the only thing really you expected, was the day Hydra inevitably found you.

You used to be so good at cognitive dissonance, compartmentalising it all into neat boxes, usually marked, ‘it was an accident’ now it had all turned into a swirling pit. A hyperbole, a vacuum of lies, a vortex of pain, a self perpetuating cycle of abuse. This wasn’t living, this was existing, amongst the people you saved, the ones you swore to protect, how could you feel so profoundly alone? By putting everyone else first you had taught yourself that you come second, it was ingrained and you didn’t exactly want to die, but carrying on this way? This was worse than you could have ever imagined.

Zemo was just as bad as you if not worse, sure Rebecca could coax a smile from him, even the intonation of his voice became more empty, but his eyes always travelled to you, the burden, the inconvenience. He always seemed to be searching for something within you? Was it for you to admit you remember? The day you finally snapped? For the black soul that lived within you to take over? The latter was the only real possibility. And then there were the moments you caught his disgust. Which should bother you, but it didn't, you were as disgusted with yourself as he was. A goddess amongst ants, so powerful you were put on a pedestal, causing cities to fall, completely absolved of the responsibility and now you lived in his house, you were everything he hated, you hated yourself more than he ever could. He gave you a wide berth, you had seen his tactics before, but you appreciated that. He became colder and colder, as broken as you were and you loathed yourself for thinking you could have made this work, that it would be easier if you just held his hand. But nothing ever hurt like him. You were bonded by trauma, unhealthily attached to each other. Toxic in the highest form. Sadness etched on his face and a hard exterior that couldn't be penetrated, not that you wanted to, but Zemo was once your everything. There was no going back for him, for either of you, too much had happened, too much loss. Victor reminded you that you were the one who needed saving, Your pain was interminable because of Zemo and he was insipid, intractable.

You knew that.

But the atmosphere of the house was soul wrenching, a black cloud did not crush you, you were the black cloud, dead, empty inside and as infectious as Zemo once called you, you stole the light from everyone. Trapped in a dalliance they couldn't ward off, one you couldn't either. And as meek and as compliant as you were, it only made Zemo hang his head. You wondered who was more of a shadow of who they used to be? Whose gaping wound that would never heal hurt the most? How much longer could you keep this up? How much more could you bottle up? How much longer could you drown, gasping for air? How after another week Zemo could no longer bear to look at you and you could barely open your eyes, through the tormented sleep and hours staring at the fireplace that no longer worked as Victor begged you to kill them all.

There wasn’t any consistency to it all, only the pain. How it hurt, just to breathe. How Zemo had an answer for everything but he couldn't fix this, that you didn’t want him to, that you knew you did this, you deserve a life of misery, that you went back to the one thing you needed to walk away from and in turn were now forcing Zemo to live in this hell too. How every second felt like you were standing on the edge, to keep going or give up, how tired you were of it all, you were even hallucinating your dead mentor, soulmate, whatever he was, imagining he was here, when you knew he couldn't be. Was this survivor’s guilt? The conversations with yourself, the ups and downs and for what? What would it change now? That no matter how much you tried, you would always be the problem.

“Don’t give in, fight back Sweetheart, for me.”

Instead of answering you rolled over in bed and closed your eyes. Keep fighting? What for? There wasn’t anything to fight for anymore.

–

Arriving at the New York division of the Wakandan outreach programme you knew you were supposed to feel something, but it just reminded you that Zemo did this either out of obligation to Wakanda or to you. Guilt, the guilt that Wanda told you would eat them alive and despite your efforts something was eating him alive. Eating all of them alive, you could see it on their faces the moment they saw you. You were losing weight rapidly, face gaunt, eyes sullen, lips chapped, skin discoloured, the only reason your hair was brushed was because of Rebecca, Zemo point blank refused to do your hair, so you tried to match it just by eyeballing what he had done. Bucky looked as if he were ready to force feed and then start world war three. Go ahead.

Unsurprisingly you were placed in a courtyard, with very high brick walls. Bored out of your mind, kicking stones around, shut out again and unable to do anything. You opened the outdoor cabinet to find logs. But then this was New York City, plenty of old buildings, so fireplaces were common. Buildings and houses not as old as Castle Doom but old enough. How long were you expected to be out here? Maybe you could carve something with your nails? Something? Anything? You started to remove all of the logs, even just to count them to pass the time finding an axe at the bottom. Well it was something to do. Your sunglasses could serve as safety goggles, not that you cared. Despite knowing your muscles were weaker, that you were weaker, you brought the axe down.

Over and over.

You managed to split one log into eight before you felt a searing gaze on your neck. Dropping the axe out of your hand, you wondered if you could gaslight Zemo as he had to you. Just say there isn't an axe, you can’t see an axe. Just apologise immediately and he would drop it. Really you weren't trying to piss him off, you imagined the person who left this out here was in for worse than you were.

“Explain yourself.” Zemo demanded.

And you could kind of understand why he was angry, but in your defence you hadn't chopped off your arm and you had enough time, shouldn't you get points for that? Yet Zemo looked incensed as frustrated as he had that morning and that was the moment you realised, you weren't even sure he cared about the axe, he more pissed about what happened earlier.

–

That Morning.

–

Sitting at the kitchen counter as the dining room currently had no table and orange stains on the walls, you patiently waited for Rebecca to finish her egg on toast. Zemo got a phone call and excused himself, you didn't need to look up to know there would be a warning in his eyes, not to touch the cutlery to wait until he returned and he would cut up your breakfast only for you to not eat it. Diminished to such treatment, but it was expected. Picking at your nails, wondering if today would bring anything different to yesterday, you felt a small hand on your thigh, scooching back, Rebecca climbed onto your lap. With her own cutlery she started to cut your toast into neat rows. Three years old and she had some of that etiquette Zemo taught you. She encouraged you to try, pulling your hands to the plate, gently praising you for being able to complete such a simple task. Leaving the toast half finished she climbed back to her own chair, took her cutlery back and hummed happily to herself.

“Why did you help me?” You asked cautiously.

“Helping is the best,” She put one hand on her chest. “Makes my heart all fuzzy and warm.”

Glowing.

You loved her, truly you did, but to watch this, to have to witness the joyful creature she was. It was breaking you down. What had they done? How could they let this happen? Finally, finally, you could say this wasn’t your fault, she was just like you and you weren't even here.

“I’m so sorry Sweetheart.”

Your own plate lifted in front of you, Zemo had come back into the room, you didn’t acknowledge him, you couldn’t stop staring at Rebecca. Even when Zemo asked her to fetch her shoes, your eyes followed her every movement, even when you couldn’t see her, you just stared at the door.

“Sunshine, are you planning to continue starving yourself?”

What? Zemo picked off a small piece of egg with a fork, your stomach flipped so violently, you only just made it to the kitchen sink, retching into it only bringing up bile. Shuddering at yet another mistake, another reason to entice Zemo into violence. “I’m so sorry, I’ll eat it, I promise.”

–

Breakfast, the explanation he wanted, your fingers trailed your lips, tasting the ghost of bile on your tongue, Zemo didn’t make you eat any of it. “I didn’t take Rebecca's cutlery, she thinks I don’t know how to use a knife, I’ll tell her not to help-” You cut yourself off, you were going to cry and you couldn’t let that happen. Trying to convey yet another apology, you returned to the courtyard. Making sure you were as far from the axe as possible, you sat down, putting your head in your hands, you didn’t know how you could carry on. Feeling the air shift as someone plopped down next to you.

“It was hard for me too at first,” Bucky started and you rolled your eyes. Warden number two here to tighten the noose. Yes it must have been extremely difficult, difference was, he got Wakanda, he got endless kindness and more importantly freedom, Shuri let him leave, T’Challa, didn’t monitor his every fucking breath, “It gets better, you just need time,” You didn't need time, you needed something else, you had no idea what that was, and as Bucky kept talking you realised what they were waiting for, they were still waiting for you to come home, No matter how docile you were, compliant, silent, you would never live up that image, you weren't the same person anymore and your presence only exasperated that. Letting him trail off you got to your feet, walking away from Bucky, walking away from this, you found Zemo in the exact same spot he was before, disgust on his face until the mask of an approachable openness slid on as he saw you.

“Can I call Maria?” You huffed out, you didn’t carry that shit phone Zemo gave you anywhere and the one Maria gave you was safely tucked inside your mattress, pretending not to see that refusal flash in his eyes. “Zemo, I have to leave.”

“You, you don’t know what you are saying, you have no idea what’s out there.” Bucky said nervously, planting his hand on your shoulder and you wanted to fucking scream, purposely looking at his hand, you wanted to ask why they both felt comfortable touching you, why they assumed they had an open invitation, tell them both that they should be the ones locked up, that they shouldn't be out in the public, that it horrified you that they were, you were deeply disturbed by them both, that if he didn’t get his fucking hands off you, you were going to make him. That at this point, you didn't care what or who was out there, you would take your chances, because it had to be better than this. Bucky, uncomfortable at your focus on his hand, slipped it off, exhaling you knew you had to get through to Zemo, to convince him and the only real way you could see to do that was through Rebecca. You held your hands out, Zemo’s eyes bounced in between your hands and your eyes, he made a valiant effort not to touch you these days, you nodded, giving him permission, you squeezed his soft scarred hands once they made contact.

“Zemo, Rebecca can see what you are doing. She will look back and remember that you became miserable was the day I appeared. You are withering away, we both are, I can’t do this. You have to let me go.” You looked into his eyes and reflected back at you his own admittance, that he knew you were right. You smiled as much as you could at him, nodding hoping he would puppeteer you, that you would both be on the same page, he relinquished one hand to put in his pocket, to get his phone and you heaved a sigh of relief. That was short lived, when you heard Bucky move closer to you, the hairs on your neck stood on end, you snatched your other hand away from Zemo. Knowing that if Victor were here, he would tell you to scream that you remember, that you remember every last thing, planting your feet ready to push off, to break the door just behind Zemo down, hopefully before he jabbed you with one of those needles.

<”She is going to bolt.”> Bucky whispered.

“SARAH!” You shouted at the suspicious eyes of Zemo and Bucky. They could sedate you in front of Sarah, but she wouldn’t let it go, she was already asking questions, already connecting the dots. She came pounding down the stairs, talking over Zemo and Bucky who no doubt were feeding her a line, you spoke slowly and clearly. “If you have the keys, open the door.” You didn’t even look in her direction, you concentrated on Bucky and Zemo’s feet, you didn’t need to plead with your eyes, she would do it or she wouldn’t.

“Doll, Sarah, DOLL you need to think about this.” Bucky urged. She took a single step towards the door and as Bucky matched her step she screamed for Sam. You wanted to feel guilty at getting everyone involved in this but this was as close as you would ever get to freedom. Still watching Bucky's feet as he was the fastest, tension filtered into the air. All of the children were upstairs alone, yes there were many good people from Wakanda, but was Zemo really ok with that? Lifting your eyes to the ceiling, a thump came from above you all and you dodged out of the way as Zemo and Bucky tore up the stairs. Sarah raced the door, fumbling with the keys in her hand. You wished you had time to tell her how thankful you were. The door opened and as you stepped through it a firm grip stretched around your upper arm. Sarah wasn’t having any of it pushing Sam as hard as she could, she stood in between you, tall and defiant. Sarah knew, she knew there was more going on than she was being told. Standing in between you, Captain America, The Winter Soldier and Baron Zemo.

A fierce bold courageous woman.

“I got this.” Even though she sounded scared, she was sure and ready to fight. You listened to your body, the years it had told you that running was the best option and you didn't listen, fuck you were listening now. You pretty much just used Rebecca as bait and you would be killed for that alone. Taking off down the street you didn’t look back, asking the first person where the closest police station was you kept going, you were going to turn yourself in. Ensure the world was safe from you and you would be safe from Hydra, ask the officers to call Maria. Reaching a small station quickly you were asked to wait until someone was available. You let your head rest back and closed your eyes feeling weary, exhausted.

“Officer, that is the protege of Zebediah Killgrave, remember him?” Sam had burst through the door commanding the room with all the authority of Captain America. Zebadiah? You remembered coming across that name, Mr Purple, a man who terrorised the city, had the ability to manipulate, control and brainwash anyone just with his words. Now that was clever, almost too clever, the perfect way to shut you up, to stop you speaking, because not a person would believe you now or let you talk and as every gun simultaneously lifted aimed in your direction, fuck you wished someone would. “I got this.” Sam growled and grabbed at your upper arm again and you stared daggers at him as he manhandled you back out onto the street.

“Get off me, you asshole.”

“You are the biggest pain in my ass you know, just running off, where are you gonna go?”

Far fucking away. Wrestling against his pull he dragged you into what looked like a very upscale bar, a place you were not dressed for, which was evident by you both being stopped, but Sam bypassed that with a few choice words whispered into the concierge’s ear. Being Captain America really did have its perks. And Sam looked pissed, crazy pissed. Pissed that he would have had to explain how you just wandered off to Bucky and Zemo though you suspected he was more pissed at having to go up against Sarah, truly a force to be reckoned with. The only words you intended to express was a need to speak with Maria. Being poured whisky on a crisp white table cloth, just served as yet another reminder who they wanted back, and how much things had changed.

“Look, I know Zemo is an ass. He can be reasonable, he can, just talk to him.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, despite the fact you had heard Sam say this to you before, but that was in regards to Bucky. Zemo could be all of those things, but not with you. He had no control whatsoever. “Would Steve agree with you?” You jabbed, As Sam’s face dropped you lifted your glass to a toast. “To Captain America, a hero,“ You continued bitterly, “To the man you turn to when all hope is lost, a beacon of light, the hero who is supposed to fight for my freedom.”

Sam didn’t meet your glass he couldn’t, he couldn't be your hope, he couldn't grant your freedom. Lips set into a grim line, he at least looked ashamed. It was a low blow to compare him to Steve, to someone he spent years trying to live up to, lowering the glass, you traced a finger of the rim, still not taking a sip. Sam had not even touched his own whisky. You thought he was more of a beer kind guy, anyway. In fact not even his fingers touched it, made no attempt to even pretend. It was as if you had tunnel vision, zooming into the glass, breathing becoming ragged when it dawned on you. Sam hadn’t touched the whisky, because it wasn’t his drink.

Slamming your hands on the table to high tail it out of here before Zemo arrived you were met with his large hands covering your own, crushing his weight down onto your fingers. You tried to pull away, yank yourself away with the remaining strength you had left. Zemo wasn’t angry, he wasn’t upset, he wasn’t even disappointed, if anything he looked defeated.

“SAM! Sam, I can’t go back, I-” Your mouth fell open at Sam, sitting calmly, a blank look on his face, none of that scared you, no, his molten golden eyes did. “Sam?” You tried, quickly checking Zemo’s eyes weren’t the same, Zemo didn’t look remotely alarmed, if anything he looked flustered, flushed as if he ran here. swinging back to Sam only to see more molten golden dots, servers paused pouring wine, some halted with trays in their arms, patrons mid drink all statuesque. Had time stopped? That question was answered quickly when every single person made their way towards the entrance, including Sam. There was that cement feeling again, pouring over you, unable to move, unable to speak, frozen stiff. Your senses only came back to you when the crowd leaving revealed a tall pale man with a slight smirk on his face, his own molten eyes, with one hand in the hair. Druig. You read about him too, he could control minds. The thought alone of having your mind tampered with like that, being controlled in such a way, would you even be aware of what you were doing? You had to bargain for the best possible outcome. You weren’t even perturbed by thick metal shutters coming down the windows and doors, locking you inside with Zemo.

“Zemo, I’ll do anything you want, anything please, please, don’t do that to me.” You begged.

“Anything?” Zemo questioned, the undertone of what that could mean, a vulgar and vile implication. “You shouldn't make agreements without knowing exactly what is required of you.” Zemo gently lifted his hands as your head started darting around, looking for a way out, looking for Victor, for fucking anything. Zemo didn’t need the house, he never needed the house, he only ever needed himself, that was enough,, to keep you contained. Looking for your last fucking brain cell because you still hadn’t quite got the hang of that. You agreed to leave the raft with Zemo without question. Agreed to go with Victor without hesitation and still here you were agreeing to stupid stupid shit. “Do you really believe anyone can save you now?” Zemo rasped. You didn’t there was no one, what was Zemo about to tell you, you would be serving a lifetime term in the basement? You would never see the light of day again? “The only person capable of such a feat is yourself.”

Not even hearing that last sentence, beginning to hyperventilate. “I’m very very sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” Zemo reached over the bar selecting a bottle of wine. “You have nothing to apologise for. You are not responsible for this.” He held up the bottle for your approval and you stood there slack jawed, what in the fresh fuck did he mean? What did he want? What was this? He poured the deep scarlet liquid into a wine glass, a glass not plastic, keeping himself at arms length he offered it to you with nothing left but his humility. “Sunshine, the war is over, I know when I am beaten. You cannot fight and neither can I, you and Rebecca will be relocating to Wakanda, I'm afraid it may take a few days-”

You held your hand up stopping him, there was no way you heard him right. “You're abandoning her? Handing her off? To a stranger?” Voice embellished so he understood, that is exactly what your parents did to you. As Zemo opened his mouth to defend himself, you continued. “Where will you be?”

“I will be turning myself in for my crimes against you, Maria will make the appropriate arrangements.”

He might just be the worst person you had ever met, leaving Rebecca with you, a stranger, handing her over so easily. A malevolent smile spread across your face, reaching out for the wine you sat down. You let the wine slide down your throat in triumph, you had him, he could say whatever he wanted, only now the bruises around your eyes had faded. There wasn’t a mark on your body, he didn't have anything to corroborate his story and most importantly, Maria would believe you. “Call Maria, I'll even speak to her for you.”

Zemo’s lips pursed. “I watch your animated corpse wander my halls, you die everyday. I am detrimental to you. You have become hyper vigilant, not prioritising your basic needs, reactive, distorted negative beliefs about yourself. You are in survival mode and I must concede. It would be negligent of me to allow this to continue. I have to force you, force you to choose yourself.” All you could hear was his devastation, for the situation you were in, for where you both were now. “I talk myself in circles searching for compromises for your freedom. I can only apologise for my behaviour, I will never forgive myself, my transgressions are extensive, endless. I have made many mistakes in my life, they all pale in comparison to you.” Zemo stumbled over his words. Zemo of all people. ”You remind me of what I am. A depraved and cruel man, in Wakanda, you can-”

“Rebecca loves you, you can't leave her.”

“Rebecca is safe, loved, happy. Your needs surpass hers.”

“I don’t care.”

“I am aware of that. That's the crux of it, Sunshine, you do not care enough about yourself to see.” Zemo said exasperated, beaten down, the mask he always had slipped he looked just as fragile as you were. “You’re screaming, watching you torment yourself, it breaks me, my very soul, I couldn’t have envisioned a life so…. I want so much for you Sunshine, so much more than this.”

As the silence stretched between you, you saw that Zemo left his coat behind, his sword, stripped bare of his armour, of his weapons. His pallor looked that of a sickly man, pasty, as if he had just vomited himself, or came down from a panic attack, he looked vulnerable, scared even. Resigned and hopeless, as if his emotions would spill over at any moment.

“You don't trust everyone in Wakanda enough to GIVE AWAY your daughter.”

“I trust several individuals with Rebecca, she is not as reckless as I find you to be. She does not have a natural trepidation for danger. You truly have an incredible resolve, a passionate stubborness that cannot be tamed. So tell me Sunshine, what do you suggest?” Was Zemo giving you carte blanche? Letting you decide what happens from now on? You didn't know how to answer, you had never dreamed of your future, somehow you knew you wouldn't be the person choosing it. “I suspect you haven't ever had the opportunity to dictate your own life? What do you want?”

“I want to be free” But I know I can't be.

“ I understand your desire to have that Sunshine, I do. There are external forces at play. As a result of my actions, of my history there is a high possibility that you will be targeted.” Zemo sounded so wounded, a deep sense of morose in his tone. “Allow me to be candid, I am mentally unstable, I have let's refer to it as control issues. I have become fixated on you, unhealthy so. It is as if every emotion I have is directed at you, my feelings are incomprehensible. I feel as though I cannot live without you, I know that is incredibly unfair However I must ensure you are protected.”

“I’ll go to Wakanda, just me.” You relented.

“Sunshine-”

“NO.”

“Would you be open to a negotiation?” Zemo forever in a position of power wasn't used to being defied, let alone forced to compromise, it just wasn't something that happened you could hear that now in his words as they rattled in your mind. Negotiate with a terrorist, now that you would be willing to try your hand at, negotiate with Zemo? You can’t be negotiated with.

“I swear I am open to this discussion, we can establish new rules.” Zemo tried. No. “I promise that I can and will strive to be less intolerable.” he urged. No. “I vow to, I assure you I take my vows very seriously.” He said sincerely. I bet you do, the answer is still no. Zemo looked pained, took the last sip of his whisky and shook his head sadly, a desperate smile ghosted his lips. Even he knew that him being reasonable was implausible.

“I give you my word.”

That got your attention, something shifted between you. Victor gave his word and his word was binding, absolute. Zemo was attempting to give you a sense of security, even if it meant invoking Victor. “Start over, not afresh as such but with experience.” Just as you originally intended, you could fight with Zemo everyday or just coexist. You didn't agree on anything, but that wasn't a new sensation. Start over? It was only fair to see if Zemo could in fact be agreeable.

“Take this off.” You let your wrist fall to the table with a loud clatter, you wanted that torture device off, immediately. And yet Zemo did not seem to receptive of your demand, the first hurdle and he failed.

“That device allows me to see your pulse, I take great comfort in knowing that your heart beats.”

“Can’t I wear a fitness watch?”

“That is an excellent idea.” Zemo smiled. “Anything else?”

“I don’t want to take the pills, I want any and all cameras gone, I want the age restriction taken off netflix.”

“There are no cameras inside our home whatsoever. I think the rest goes without saying.”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” You admitted.

“The last few years have hardened me, changed me, so much one hardly recognises oneself. A hardship I believe you understand all too well. Fear is your companion now, that is my fault. I am unable to take that from you Sunshine, I desperately wish I could. Know that I will never give you a reason to fear me, not ever again.”

“You actually believe you can do this?”

“James can hear a slight strain on your heart.” Zemo's eyes became glassy. “ It is not a matter of choice, I know that if I do not, you will die.”

You shook your head at yourself, because you believed him, after everything you believed him, trusted in every word he said. You looked at him, you just looked at him and wondered if it was even possible? Wanting to drown in his optimistic eyes and drown you would, one way or another. Zemo pushed the edge of your half empty, half full crystal glass towards you. Wine? Well something had to give you the courage, to agree to try again, to find your way back to some semblance of life, to have even a single shred of hope.

“I must be out of my fucking mind.”

–

Zemo pulled the fire alarm to open the door, an escape, a safety precaution, so simple yet concealed. He informed you that the bar was one of his many establishments, Zemo also invested in commercial property. You and Victor never looked for that, only for any new residential property. Finding a crowd of mindless zombies walking in central park, you kept your distance from Druig. According to Zemo he turned on his own kind for humanity, he valued that above everything else, Zemo also told you Druig would never ever be permitted to control your mind.

“I told you Zemo would come around if you talked to him.” Sam worriedly looked at you both, not quite believing his own words.

"And he is still an asshole.” You said firmly and very loudly, hearing Druig chuckle as he walked off.

“I am.” Zemo agreed wholeheartedly. And off you both went to find a fitness watch, you selected the cheapest one, blue in colour to not show any detection or preference for any colour from your past. Zemo purchased the most expensive black one, which he set up as you sat on a bench on Wall Street. Taking tiny nibbles of a burrito Zemo brought you, annoyed you just got another lump of sauce on the large sunglasses, you decided of your own volition to ask one of the many questions in your mind.

“I have to wear the cap and glasses, Sam does, Bucky does. Why don’t you?”

Zemo eyebrows pinched, he shuffled himself along the bench, creating a bigger space between you, surveying the hustle of New York, he cleared his throat and adopted as much of a carefree tone as he could. “I want my enemies to find me.”

No more burrito, you appreciated that he was honest, but you knew what happened when Zemo met his enemies. There were a million more questions you wanted to ask, but did you really want the answers? Did you want to watch him lie to you? You offered him the remainder of your burrito and to your shock he took a bite.

“Burrito guy is kind of cute, can I run away with him?” You said playfully, wanting to change the subject while watching Zemo to see if you could make him choke on his food. Zemo’s eyes lifted to you with a glint, he was amused that you were bold enough to say such a thing. He turned his attention to the man tending to his food cart. Crouching down to sort his supplies, napkins, chilli sauce, a pigeon swooped down and pecked at the onions and the man didn’t even look up, the pigeon flew away unnoticed. Hardly an acceptable candidate to keep you safe.

“Absolutely not.” Zemo said through laughter. Walking back to the outreach centre you noticed Zemo managed to ward enough anyone in your path with a single look in their direction, you must be the only person in New York City who wasn’t bumped into. Zemo walked ahead of you into the courtyard, picking up the axe and holding it out to you.

“Your life is your prerogative Sunshine. I do need to ask you for a favour, well two actually.” Taking the axe you narrowed your eyes, here it was the catch. “Firstly please refrain from cutting off your limbs.” He said that with a smile he reserved for when he had to be polite and he didn’t want to be. " Please be kinder to yourself.”

–

Zemo shook you awake once you arrived back, you didn’t know if it was the vibrations of the car, or just that the never ending tension in your spine had dulled slightly. Or if it was that Zemo made a point to tell you exactly where you were going before you just woke up in a new place. You did wonder what you had done? if you made the right choice? Rebecca was sleeping too, Zemo had been out in the city and didn't arrive back until late to take you both home. Could this place ever be your home?

Zemo gently pulled Rebecca from the car, rested her head on his shoulder and walked away from the house. You trailed next to him in silence knowing he was walking towards the pond, which now had a bench installed. The moon glittered on the surface as you heard the leaves rustle in the wind. Rebecca’s face squished against Zemo’s chest, slightly frowning as he sat down, he didn't speak until you sat down too.

“I lost someone very dear to me recently.” Zemo spoke lowly, moving Rebecca’s hair out of her face. “I always believed they guided me to be better, to do better, I’m not sure they ever did,” Me? “A gentle soul, saw the good in everyone including myself.” Zemo laughed ironically, knowing how much of a mistake that was for you. “The only person to call me out on my bullshit so blatantly.” Zemo smiled as if he remembered something specific, you wondered what it was. “I don’t know why I feel obligated to tell you this, I did not think it possible to die of a broken heart, “ Zemo's voice shook. “He did.”

He?

Oeznik

Zemo shifted slightly to reveal a plaque engraved with his name, a lump formed in your throat that constricted all of your air, wedged there to prevent the oncoming explosion.

“The loss of Rebecca’s mother tore him apart, the years without her, he missed her terribly, he devoted himself to Rebecca in her honour.” Zemo stood taking controlled breaths through his mouth. “Oeznik would have adored you too.”

Your heart lurched, you snapped your jaw shut and clenched your teeth as Zemo silently laid his coat on the bench and walked away. It must have taken everything he had to have kept walking, the gutteral noise that tore from you, even you never wanted to hear again. Inconsolable tears of grief poured out of you. Crying so much you thought your chest was being ripped open. Your skull shook with sobs as your hand traced his name, swearing you would do anything to bring him back. The wailing into the night just wishing he were here, crying harder when you thought about how he would console you, which only made your heart ache more.

The sun rose as your cries turned into hiccups. As you tried to steady your breaths to stop your diaphragm spasming, you felt lighter, there was something cathartic about crying, something freeing about letting it all out, even if just for one night, you sat up when you heard leaping footsteps and the giggles of your daughter running towards you, straight past, jumping without any fear at all into the pond. She emerged squealing, as you raced to the edge. Zemo waded in until he had to start swimming too. Of course she could swim, she was Zemo’s daughter, if she couldn’t he would have had the pond filled. Slipping off your shoes and paddled over to her as she encouraged you over, She was more confident in the water than you, probably a stronger swimmer. She wrapped her arms around your neck and moved her face to your ear.

“Careful of the crocodiles.”

–

After hours in the pond where Rebecca herself played the crocodile, she gave up when squirrels descended on you all, waiting patiently at Oeznik's bench for her to emerge. The nuts you ate earlier that month were for the squirrels who took them directly from her hand, then would scurry off to bury them. When she started to shiver she placed a hand on the bench and looked up into the sky with a bright smile on her face, she whispered Schatzi to herself. Which Zemo told you meant treasure. Just when you thought you couldn’t want Oeznik back anymore. Even after Rebecca was in dry clothes and bundled in blankets she shivered, She cosied up to Zemo and it wasn’t long until her eyes fluttered closed, tiring herself out from chasing after you all morning. Soon after that Zemo closed his eyes rhythmically stroking her hair, just as he used to with yours.

“Fine, even I’ll admit that's adorable.” Victor gritted as you watched them, It was moments like this you needed to hold onto. You hovered closeby, watching both their chest rise and fall, as they slept soundly. They say people know when they are being watched Zemo certainly did, the moment his eyes twitched, you rushed to grab his hands, recalling Oeznik's demonstration of waking a sleeping soldier. You quickly realised his instincts as a father were stronger, you flinched away with an apology. Apprehensive at being alone with Zemo, you felt the need to busy yourself, you moved towards the hallway.

“I need to return these to you.” Zemo said as he caught up, in his hands were the shoes Sarah brought with her, shoes with laces, no guesses for why they were taken from you. “I have some other purchases in the dining room.”

Purchases? Zemo provided everything here which you hated, you never felt comfortable taking his money, but you didn’t have much choice in the matter. Opening the door, you were greeted with every type of pillow available to mankind, square shaped, U shaped, V shaped, memory foam, cotton, firm, soft. Every type of blanket, comforter, duvet imaginable. Bed sheets with such a high thread count you weren’t sure it was possible.

“You are reluctant to sleep, perhaps you had something like this before? Do you feel drawn to any particular item?”

No? You just felt uncomfortable being put on the spot, on having to select something, when you had enough difficulty with everything as it was. You felt awkward that Zemo was trying to take care of you again, nervous to accept it, worried that none of this would ever make you feel comfortable in a bed again, remembering the last time Zemo wanted to take care of you, he built you a house, you started to scratch the palm of your hand.

“Sunshine. The very idea of me caring for you makes your skin crawl, these items are for you to care for yourself.” Zemo said with an air of authority. Piled over the chairs that remained in here, as there wasn’t a table yet, were stacks of long sleeve baggy t-shirts, more leggings, thick fluffy socks.

“I have clothes.” You uttered.

“Clothing that was purchased in an emergency, they are all polyester.” Zemo said dismissively with just a touch of disgust.

“To be fair I didn’t let you wear that either.” Victor added. Let me? Victor looked back at you unashamed matching Zemo's expression. Polyester was beneath both of them.

“I have marked a line in the bathtub as an indicator for the water.” Zemo handed you a wrapped waterproof pillow. “If you use this in combination, it will be very difficult to slip under.” Zemo encouraged. “And micro fibre towels, they are kinder to your skin, some basic skincare too.” Zemo said shyly. Nothing could save your skin, you highly doubted a towel would and there wasn’t a miracle cream out there. “I would suggest trying the weighted blanket, supposedly it aids sleep.” As overwhelmed as you were, you saw the weighted blanket for what it was, a substitute for your cloak. Zemo was willing to put aside his unbridled hate for Victor for you. “And a Loro Piana coat.” Zemo’s pitch went up, this was something he was more comfortable with, holding up the coat to you. It was an exact replica of the coat he had made for you, the emerald green coat, only this one was black. Your favourite colour. Was Zemo accepting of it now? Or would he rather you never wear emerald green again? “A new phone, the one I gave you originally is,” Zemo paused, thinking what to say. A blatant intrusion of privacy? just as you imagined this ‘new’ one would be too, “broken.” Zemo smiled, “and a new bedroom.”

“Why?”

“The master bedroom is…. can feel too large, empty at times. You will be taking the room next to Rebecca, the fireplace is still functional.”

Lips quirking just at the thought of getting the fireplace back. Maybe being closer to Rebecca would make you feel more at peace, maybe there was some merit in the weighted blanket, maybe choosing your own bedding up would help. And if not then it wasn’t like you would be losing anything more. Side eyeing Victor to make sure he would be moving to the new room with you, you agreed.

“Sunshine,” Zemo cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There is the possibility that you shared your bed before, you might be missing that comfort?”

With you? That was years ago?

“No no Sweetheart. Your darling husband thinks you shared a bed with me.”

Staring at Zemo with wide unbelieving eyes and a sneer forming on your face, you decided to make it very clear that was not the case. “I don’t even remember having a bed.” You quipped. The only time in your life that you did was with Bucky and Zemo; you had never been afforded such a luxury at other times. Zemo frowned, trying to understand, he knew you had a bed, he was tortured by the memories of your body against his. As despicable as he found Victor he wouldn’t have forced you to sleep on the floor, he would need to consult with Maria. You both heard the excited footsteps of a tiny human approach and you were glad Rebecca was right on time.

“Look!” Rebecca chimed, whipping round only to fall back into Zemo, not to find solace in his arms, to get as far away as you could from the incredibly large spider that was at least half the size of Rebecca's head crawling up her arm. “It tickles.” She hummed. IT TICKLES!

“Rebecca, maybe you should take your friend outside?” You shrilled. Pushing yourself further back and into Zemo, who kept moving back himself, trying to keep that distance between you. Rebecca moved closer with the spider in the air with two hands and it was bigger, than both her little hands. You swore the wretched thing heard your thoughts, he happily crawled back up Rebecca’s arm and onto her face, her eyes followed still sparkling and you were ready to set the house of fire. Reaching back, you clutched the collar of Zemo’s shirt and pushed him in front of you. Get that thing off her now! Zemo laughed at you, he actually laughed and you would have punched him, had he not let the spider crawl off Rebecca's face into his hands.

“I find it inexplicable that you are frightened of spiders.”

Unable to keep your eyes off its eight hairy legs, it’s black round eyes that you swore were looking at you. “I’m, I’m not scared.” You lied, grasping onto the walls, trying to climb them yourself. Zemo and Rebecca both looked at each other then turned on you, both stifling mocking giggles. “Here is what we are going to do,” You took a small side step keeping your eyes on the creature that Zemo was happy to let wander on his form. “We are all going to walk very slowly to the front door. Then Rebecca you are going to hold Mr spider just for a second, Zemo you open the door and I’ll run,” You took another step indicating for them to follow. “Then you will walk, far, far, far away from the house and let him go.” You continued side stepping, until you reached the door holding up a hand, you didn’t want that thing any closer. Rebecca happily took the spider, Zemo repressed yet another derisive smile as he slowly walked towards you.

“What are you waiting for!”

“Sunshine, are you not capable of opening a door by yourself?” He whispered. No, not this door, not in this house, you know it’s a prison. Zemo, please! He gestured for you to try. Hearing a very subtle click as your hand made contact with the knob, it recognised your fingerprints. Zemo understood that you needed to be able to open doors freely, to always have some form of escape, not complete freedom, but it certainly made you feel less trapped. You swung the door and ran knowing you should feel appreciation for being able to freely be outside without permission or Zemo, but you were too busy, rubbing your hands over your body, that spider might have friends.

–

You all made homemade pizza together for dinner. Zemo told you that if you prepared your own food, you would be able to trust he hadn't laced it with anything. Pizza his way of showing you he was compromising. Grated cheese littered the floor, Rebecca's hands were covered in tomato sauce that she routinely licked off her fingers. She selected only red peppers as her topping as it was her favourite and you wondered how immoral it would be to manipulate her to prefer a new colour. You moved your cloak and daisy chain to your new room, your most treasured possessions, as Rebecca went down for the night, you contemplating starting a fire when Zemo knocked on your door.

“Sunshine,” Zemo said firmly. “I am the prisoner now, I am no stranger to incarceration. I will be either in my room or office and I will seek permission to move between the two.” Zemo looked over your head, seeing that you had not yet made your bed, having only selected some sheets, not even a pillow. He didn’t show any emotion on his face even though you expected disappointment. "I will not encroach on your private space again. Goodnight Sunshine.”

Free roam? Well as much as Zemo could allow and as tempting as it was and as much as you should get a true layout of the house, you knew that opening doors here, just wasn’t in your best interest. You didn’t know what they would lead to, what you would see, you concluded some doors should remain closed. This house, this prison used to be a shelter and yes you would have to ignore what lay beneath. It wasn’t a lie, you weren't swallowing the truth, you knew the basement was just under your feet. Finding yourself in the kitchen, you started to put away the tornado from the pizza’s. Washing the chopping boards, plates, bowls, leaving the knives exactly where they were. There was no reason to rock the boat and honestly you weren't sure if you trusted yourself.

“Sweetheart, You are better than this. These asinine tasks? Don’t-”

“Achievements are achievements, no matter how small.” You told me that.

“Doing the dishes is not an achievement.” Victor growled. Says who? You? Zemo? Bucky? I have to fill the time with something Victor, I’m already halfway to insane. Now you knew there weren't cameras, you could talk out loud, even if were all they would see was you talking to yourself, arguing with yourself, which you felt as if you had been doing all your life. You ewminded Victor that he envied you for your being so adaptive, you had to be again, find a new way to live. If that meant doing the housework then so be it. Even if it could quieten your mind for just ten minutes you would do it. Drying the chopping board, only to realise you didn’t know where it was kept now, the kitchen wasn’t the same. Opening cupboards, pulling out a mixer, a blender, a rolling pin, removing utensils, plates, champagne glasses, whisky tumblers, a slow cooker. Before you knew it every cupboard was empty, you stood amongst the chaos, ready to begin again.

–

“Oh no!”

What's wrong?

Lifting your head with a groan to Rebecca standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her hands over her mouth, hair all messy and a nightie just slightly lopsided. Her golden eyes rounded as she took the scene in. Which meant you had to look at what she could see, you needed more than a second to fully come to your senses, feeling the indented lines from the mixer across your face, you feel asleep hunched over it.

“I’ll clear it up.” You rushed out, half of the contents of the kitchen was still splayed across counters, haphazardly thrown across the island, scattered across the floor.

Zemo didn’t show a single emotion on his face. “No, your task is not completed.” Zemo lifted Rebecca up, carefully took a step into the kitchen. Setting Rebecca down on the island, he picked up the first bowl he laid his eyes on and asked you to pass the cereal, which was in the far corner of the room. Navigating through this mess was easy for you, you had been doing it unknowingly all your life, it was easy for Zemo too as he joined you. “Sunshine, please make this your home. If you need to rearrange the kitchen, anywhere do so. If you need to tear this house apart brick by brick, do so. If you need to flatten cities, I will be by your side."

Unsure that you heard him and not another on of Victor's tirades, you had to check.“You would watch as I flatten cities?”

“No I would show you precisely how to execute such an idea.” Zemo insisted as if he weren't trying to disparage you. Victor’s smile widened significantly, just want you needed Victor in one ear begging you to kill everyone and Zemo in the other handing you a gun. No one is flattening cities. You had both seen and lived the consequences of that. It was a once in a lifetime event. You thrust the cereal into Zemo's chest and he had the nerve to look hurt that you rejected his idea.

“No one is doing that ever again.” You said out loud, ensuring that he understood that it was in no way permission for him to do such a thing either. Zemo gave a weak nod and backed off. Victor opened his mouth to plead with you and you gave him a warning glance as Zemo’s back was turned. “How, how does this house even work? If it is totally off the grid how do you pay for electricity and water?” You asked.

“I siphon it all from a farmer down the road," Zemo said casually, trying to make sense of the tangle in Rebecca’s hair as she ate her cereal sitting crossed legged on the island. His offhandedness about it, that it was completely acceptable to steal and not have it bother him at all. “Ethel and I have an agreement. I purchase her eggs for $500 a piece.” Zemo added. It wasn’t like you could argue, that price was beyond extortion, but then Zemo had a fully functioning house and her silence. Zemo took you over there, Ethel smacked him upside the head, which Zemo responded in kind by smiling politely and handing her a wad of bills.

“I imagine that was a parting gift from Oeznik, he had many more dealings with her.”

You laughed Oeznik was still here, even if it was in the form of putting Zemo back in his place. As Rebecca’s bed time loomed and you dreaded being without her, you pilfered her rest and were rewarded with her cheeky smiles. Stealing a marshmallow from Zemo’s hot chocolate you put a finger to her lips and her eyes dazzled. Purposely looking away you watched Zemo do the same to your hot chocolate out of the corner of your eye, putting his finger to his lips as if he turned a key, to keep Rebecca quiet, which she was incapable of doing. She was snorting to herself, delving into such a fit of giggles, she could barely breathe, tears sprang to her eyes and yours. That was it, right there, your favourite sound in the world, and for a moment, for just one moment, everything felt worth it.

–

You were brutally woken up by a tennis ball to the head, so discombobulated you were shocked you caught the second one only through intuition, through years of Victor's training and conditioning. Holding the bright green ball in your hand, waiting for your mind to comprehend what the hell was going on, you jumped at the clearing of a throat. To see Zemo standing in your doorway, tennis ball in his hand resting at his side. Now your mind had a second to catch up, you recalled the memory of your skin being torn off, a nightmare, one Zemo woke you from, without violating his rule, he would never enter your room. Giving him a weak and embarrassed thank you, you pulled yourself out of bed, ready to wash the sticky sheen of sweat from yourself.

Zemo reminded you to carry our new phone with you and not leave it in the bedroom as Sarah had to call him when you didn’t answer. You didn’t trust that he wasn’t looking at the new phone as he had with the old one, you also hated it because it sent you an alert for every single threat across the globe, something Sarah told you Sam and Bucky’s phone did, to be kept in the loop, Victor talked you though turning those off and they still came. Sarah was only trying to contact you because she said you were making dinner together by video call, accidentally saying it was to fill your time and almost slipping up that you both used to do this together. After Rebecca was settled in for the night both you and Zemo headed to the kitchen, propping up your phone against the coffee machine as it brewed a very late coffee, which Zemo gave you free reign of.

Happy to see Sarah more at ease with you on the small screen, she was just as delighted to see that your eyes weren’t so sullen, that you didn’t look so haggard, that you didn’t have that look in your eyes of wanting to immediately run away. Lasagne was on the menu and you had to remind yourself to not gather all of the ingredients to wait for Sarah’s instruction, patiently waiting for Zemo to begin chopping garlic. You were astounded when he passed you the knife and the chopping board. Unsurprisingly he lingered dangerously close, watching your every move, as if his being this close to a knife and near you wasn’t bad enough, you felt suffocated by him, looking over your shoulder instead of the task at hand. He had encouraged you to tell him what was wrong at any given moment, to point out his failures was his exact wording so you muted yourself from Sarah.

“Rebecca’s asleep, shouldn’t you be in your room?” You reminded Zemo.

“This is a compromise Sunshine, I am only this close to ensure you do not drive that knife into your heart.” Into my heart? Yes you supposed there was always the chance but while on a video call with Sarah? Your eyes flickered to Sarah and Zemo shifted slightly away, not nearly enough, but he did move, chucking a handful more of garlic cloves onto the chopping board. “Garlic is measured by the heart.” Zemo chimed.

“You have one of those?” You jabbed while pointing the knife in his direction, he just smiled fondly at you as Sarah started to tap the screen, she was trying not to do so frantically, but the look in her eye gave her away. Another alert on your phone only caused you to narrow your eyes further.

“Those alerts are to keep you informed, you need to be aware of the goings on in the world.” Zemo stated. He wanted you to be aware now, instead of having the wool pulled over your eyes as before, to give you as much intel as he possibly could. I don’t want to know. “I will have Shuri remove them.” Zemo acquiesced. Taking Sarah off mute, you continued making the dish, whenever the knife was in your possession Zemo struggled not to breathe down your neck, otherwise he let you and Sarah chat, even stretching your leg up to show her, the shoes she got you, putting the dish in the oven you waved Sarah goodbye.

“Could we discuss improvements?” Zemo said uncertainty. What improvements? For lasagne? He added the garlic? No, he meant improvements for you, he still expected you to get better.

“I’m not going to improve.” You starting taking it back as soon as you saw the rise of his eyebrows. “I mean, of course I can, just tell me what to do.”

“The improvements are for me Sunshine. Your well being is paramount to me.” Zemo said solemnly at your reaction, the instantaneous fear response that you couldn't quite shake. “Your efforts do not go unnoticed.” Zemo said, trying to steer to conversation away from anything that might send you into a spiral. “In a few days I will need to fetch supplies, is there anything you need?”

“Who is staying with us?” You asked, ready to prepare yourself for a new guest, a new person who would be witness to your screams in the middle of the night. You couldn’t be left alone, you were a liability, a risk to everyone, including Rebecca.

Zemo’s eyebrows pinched. “I am quite talented at reading people, I know that if anything were to happen you would guard Rebecca with your life. Do not let your insecurities cloud your ability to care for her. My only concern is that you will be alone with the thoughts that plague you, I will retrieve the necessities during the day.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You voiced and Zemo opened his mouth to argue, closing it shut rapidly seeing that you weren't ready, you weren't sure if you ever would be.

“The secondary fridge is well stocked,” Before you could ask where that was, Zemo answered, “Behind the blanket storage.” Zemo smiled ruefully. A fridge? Not a torture chamber? That did sound like something Zemo would do, you saw the insane lengths he went to in Louisiana, that he built a house underneath the actual house, you could all probably live down there for a few months, probably live here for a few years, given the chance, that was more than like Zemo’s ideal, in one place that couldn't be penetrated, he would call it safe, even if it was a prison.

“Sorry, it must feel like you are taking care of two children.” You said sadly. Zemo didn’t respond to that, not yet anyway. He slid a plastic card over to you, untraceable you presumed. “I don’t want your money.”

“The funds in this account did not come from me, they came from a woman called Pepper Potts.”

You choked on thin air, Pepper Potts, wife of Tony Stark Pepper Potts? Composing yourself, you had to maintain an air of ignorance. You were not supposed to know who either of those people were. Zemo refrained from rubbing your back, to get you through the small trembling coughs that were still spluttering from you.

“Financial freedom, or at the very least an attempt of it, I tried to be diligent in..” Zemo trailed off. “Pepper and I had a video conference, she is aware of your situation. She watched her husband torment himself, believing he was the only one capable of protecting the world. She understands that desire to shield, to conserve.. Sunshine just take it.” Zemo sighed. The desire to shield, like Tony had with the world, for his daughter Morgan, for his wife Pepper. The same burning need Zemo felt to protect you and Rebecca. Zemo reminded Pepper of Tony, that must have been a difficult conversation. You were shocked Pepper even agreed to talk to Zemo. You asked for her number to thank her, which you did by text. You doubted you would ever get a response, Pepper exiled herself and lived a life of seclusion, just as you were doing. Not that you ever needed to use the money, you knew Zemo well enough to know he would make sure you didn't need to.

“Two children?” Zemo wondered aloud, looking into the darkness outside. “One is astounding, the very embodiment of how I know that somewhere in my depraved life, I did one thing right. See’s the good in everyone, sometimes I believe she is too pure for this world.” Zemo said sadly, his thumb stroking the back of his golden wedding band. “The very reason I wish the world would change its heart, so she doesn’t have to change for it.” Zemo said wistfully, it was the perfect way to describe Rebecca. Zemo looked directly at you. “And the other one is sleeping upstairs.”

“I’m not like that.” Not anymore.You said blinking back the burn from the tears forming in your eyes, heartbroken that Zemo had any faith left in you at all.

“I have a gut feeling you were born that way.”

Helmut Zemo had always considered himself a patient man.

It wasn't easy to make him really angry and he made sure to never act on these feelings without considering his options first. He wouldn’t still be alive if he wasn't thoughtful, systematic. A Baron, simply the person he was raised to be.

This changed when he first laid eyes on you.

The moment his eyes met yours he knew what he had to do. All it took was a glance across the room.

He was talking with his tenant, your husband, about rent. Well, that’s what he was supposed to be doing, yet all your dear Mr Bernotas was talking about was nonsense, made up excuses. Zemo didn’t like him; perhaps it was the lack of rationality... or the fact that he didn’t try to hide his insufferable vices: it was no secret that Mr Bernotas was a lying bastard who liked to spend his wife’s money on casinos.

Which usually meant that the rent was going to be late.

Zemo himself wasn’t sure why he allowed any of this: if it was some kind of twisted charity because he pitied the rich wife that lost her lifestyle by marrying an idiot or if it was because he never really had any time left to properly deal with this bulshit — what wasn’t the case anymore. After months out of the country, dealing with bigger problems than one bad tenant, Baron Helmut was back to business.

The casino where Mr Bernotas liked to spend his money was also where he always insisted on meeting: a breathtaking high maintenance hotel Zemo knew all too well — a very poor idea. Pretty stupid place to try to kill the landlord to whom you owe an immeasurable amount of money, was Zemo opinion.

Although knowing the intention of the meeting, Baron Zemo was, above all, fair and the sole purpose of turning a blind eye was to test him.

It is, until he saw you.

Sitting by the bar stool, idly chatting with a friend.

Ravishing, bewitching you, on formal attire and an undoubtedly family heirloom, looking just as gracious as Grace Kelly herself. When he learned who you were, he made his decision.

He would make sure you were forever safe. And he would make sure you were his. But first he’d have to gain your trust and kill your incompetent husband.

And what better way to gain someone's trust if not being properly introduced? Before following Mr Bernota to his office, where he suggested that was a better place to deal with big money, he insisted on meeting the lovely wife. Zemo made sure to be extra polite, bowing and kissing your hand, but with your husband hushing to get Zemo alone it didn’t last long.

His first impression of you was that you were very sweet. Smiling and calling him either by his last name or baron (which swept Zemo off his feet) despite the fact that he asked you to call him Helmut. He couldn’t know for sure if it was because he was a total stranger to you, yet he had a gut feeling it wasn’t that. He acted on this feeling by kissing your cheek in goodbye.

You didn’t seem to mind it a bit. Your husband only made a face and urged Zemo to have the meeting in the other room.

Zemo followed.

However, they didn’t guide him to a more private room; instead, they ended up at the very back of the Hotel, where all was dark and had a pungent smell - to put the cherry on top of it, the room also led to a dead-end street.

Oh, right. The intention of the visit was to find out the true nature of his tenant.

...

You only met again ​two weeks later at your birthday party.

Well, it wasn’t a party per say, you had gathered a few friends for dinner at the little excuse of a house where you lived with your husband. Zemo wasn’t invited, by all means he was not supposed to know of it, he just came in to hand business-related documents to your Mr.

The truth was that he didn’t need to deliver the paper himself, he could very well send someone to do it instead, but he needed reasons to give you the pearl earrings he had bought thinking of you.

And he wished to see you again.

Properly see you.

Sure, he has been following you around the past week — just in case anything happened to you, he told himself — yet he wished to be seen as well, he realised the night at the casino that being perceived by you was strangely pleasant. Something he wasn’t used to and even the mere minutes he got with you in the penthouse was enough to give him butterflies in the stomach for the days following.

His scheme followed exactly as he had anticipated: he gave you a sincere smile and promised to present you, even if delayed. Zemo held your hand and kissed you goodbye again, just to be delighted with you laughing and your comment on how gallant he was.

He noted the soft spicy scent of your perfume — he made sure to memorize all the notes he could identify to create a fragrance for himself, if he didn't find the exact cologne you wore.

The very first thing he did the morning after was turn in the present wrapped in an expensive looking box.

...

You were no fool.

Baron Zemo was known worldwide and had a bad reputation. You weren't aware, however, that your husband had anything in comum with him besides living in one of his buildings. You saw yourself having to do a little research on the Baron to understand how his visit could affect you. It wasn’t pleasant.

Mr Bernota had it pretty bad. You knew Zemo had been a pretty benevolent landlord, forgiving the unpaid rent and allowing you to live in the house while your husband tried to gain money, yet it was clear that it wouldn’t go on forever. Not with the Baron back in the city.

Your husband was a liar and an idiot, but he enjoyed his lifestyle too much to risk getting murdered for owing money to the wrong people, he wasn’t this stupid. He probably was in charge of some task the Baron wanted to get done with in exchange for the rent.

However, your darling had changed from water to wine in the last weeks — he was way too sober and barely had gone to the casino, something he did daily for as long as you could remember since marrying you. It was clear that this unexpected change wasn’t good news, still you couldn’t quite place it.

You couldn’t say if the matter was purely financial. The lack of money was old news, if he was ever bothered with it he never showed it, always looking for the next thousand to waste.

Perhaps he cheated in the game or deceived someone he shouldn’t have? He certainly wasn’t above that.

The unanswered question bugged you more than you liked to admit, so you did your best and schemed a plan to resolve it.

Getting Bernota to give you the Baron’s number was tiring, he couldn’t fathom the reason why you’d need it for. He could thank the man for the earrings himself the next time they met, he assured you; it wasn’t enough, so you stole it and invited the Baron to a breakfast.

Eight in the morning sharp you met at the Grand Hotel.

Just him and you. Zemo was delighted to see you with the shining gift and the matching pearl necklace.

...

Your husband was an excellent actor. You knew this intimately.

Mr. Bernota was an expert when it came to allure crowds and make people love him, he knew exactly what to do and how to read people. First, because he simply loved all the attention people gave him when he got that handsome smile on his face; second, because the lying made an adrenaline rush run through his veins - but it was fated to end, he had no quality other than deceiving and people lose interest fast.

You thought it was very ironic that he couldn't find out how to use this ability of his to win card games.

The shine of his eyes was the first thing that got your attention, his smooth voice and the sweet tone he liked to fake was ridiculously easy to fall for. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to pay any attention to his words, unlike the people around you. You could only focus on his calloused hand in your waist lovingly holding you close.

Unfortunately, you were very different from your husband: acting was something you worked hard to master. It took a while, yes. But you learned how to do it just as well.

Controlling your breath to not gasp for air had become so natural that you did it with perfection, no single eye on you suspected a thing. You could hide even the incessant need to fiddle with your wedding ring.

Yet, you weren't a natural and you could only pretend for so long. The champagne wasn't working anymore, you desperately needed a moment alone.

Mr Bernota kept his monologue, the guests happily listening to what he had to say. You looked at his face and observed his lips move, yet the noise didn't make any sense to you in your dizziness.

You were used to it, of course. But that didn't make anything less awkward. Not when someone had to repeat your name louder to get your attention back to reality, not when your sweet husband joked about it and made everyone laugh. Not at you, dear, don't be silly, laugh at the situation.

Although the situation made you feel humiliated, after answering the question you finally were allowed to excuse yourself and walk away.

You usually ran to the nearest restroom whenever the situation felt too much to bear and that was exactly what you intended to do, but a strong hand got a hold of your wrist before you could open the door.

“Are you alright, Mrs?” the pleasant voice asked.

You turned around with a smile on your face.

Baron Zemo was surprisingly good news.

In the last weeks he made sure to make acquaintances with your husband and you, always meeting with your husband and inviting you to dinner at his house. At first the simpaties felt like a plan to make you more pliable to negotiate rent, since it was you the one supposed to live with a comfortable inheritance, however, time made it clear he was just a sweet man willing to make friends.

Helmut, as he insisted to be called, was always very polite with you, a true gentleman: opening doors, standing whenever you walked into a room, paying your bill the morning you had breakfast together. Exactly the type of men you were used to before moving out of your parents house. Yet, deep down, you felt something was up; you couldn’t place what exactly was wrong and it infuriated you, but there was a little voice telling you to be careful around him. The fact was that you had no reason to mistrust him other than the late rent you owed him, and not even once had he brought this subject up.

A part of you suspected that it was just the years of abuse telling you lies. You decided to ignore it for the time being.

“Baron! I wasn't sure if you would come!”

“Sorry, dear” without looking away, he kissed your hand. “I should have told you.”

“Oh, it's no bother. I’m happy you came after all.”

He smiled. The smile you realised he reserved for when you were alone. With an intensity you could feel in your gut, he looked at you passionately enough to make you shiver. It wasn’t by any means proper to allow a man to look at you like that, it was even more inappropriate to enjoy the thrilling feeling. But it has been so long since the last time you felt truly wanted and cherished… You welcome Baron’s light flirting with open arms, you just hoped to not lead him anywhere. You have no intention of going any further with it.

It almost made you forget about the nausea you felt. Almost.

“You must be looking for my husband” you assumed, turning around to point the way. “He is by the barstool.”

“Not at all. I'm actually worried about you, Dear.”

“Oh?”

You faced him, curious as of why. He had his usual expression on again, with shining eyes and mischievous smirk. “If you allow me to say, you don’t look very well.”

You felt your cheeks and neck burn under his gaze, looking away sheepishly.

“Sharp eyes, Baron” you forced yourself to look back at him, fiddling with your hand behind your back. “I feel a little dizzy.”

“Allow me to help you.” It wasn’t clear if he was making a request or demand.

“Oh, no need to wor…'' before you could finish the sentence, he guided you inside the restroom with a hand on your back.

...

You didn’t know he smoked.

And you didn’t exactly approve of it.

The smell of it made you think of your mother’s disapproving expression, always finding something to complain about, which led you to think of her fury whenever someone dared to disagree with her or do something she didn’t approve of. It also made you think of your husband, dear Mr Bernota, only a few meters away, unaware of this indecency, and his own smoking habits.

But with Helmut it was different. There was no guilt, no shame. Only a peaceful feeling spreading in your chest. The only worry was at the very back of your head.

At first, when he led you there and pushed you to sit on the sink, you didn’t like his persistence. You refused to stay put until he took his suit off and lit up the cigarette, the eroticism of his motion made you feel way too pliable for your liking.

Despite that, you kept the uneasiness to yourself. And when he settled beside you and offered the already lit cigarette, you accepted it.

For a long time, you shared it in silence.

His slow breathing was easy to mimic and very calming. Although, you did your best to not glance at him, focusing instead on the light noise of the party outside the restroom and the smoke burning your lungs and throat.

Because Helmut had locked the door, rationally you knew no one could get inside and see you in such a compromising situation — smoking with a man that wasn’t your husband, alone — however, a small part of you still worried. Again, that part of you was fogged at the back of your head.

The cigarette was working marvelously well: you felt relaxed after only a few minutes. It was natural for you to lean back and rest your shoulders and head in the mirror, closing your eyes.

Yet, you could feel Helmut’s eyes on you and the questions coming up.

“How do you feel now, darling?” the concern in his voice was clear, you wished he had any right to feel this way. “Any better?”

You smiled before answering him, then reached out to hand the cigarette back. He held your hands between his own, kissing your knuckles gently, but it had the complete opposite reaction he expected. You yanked your hand from his, suddenly startled.

“Darling?” he asked you, the confusion plain on his face.

“Don’t call me that!”

You jumped out of the sink, running away to the door. Helmut was faster than you imagined and reached you before you could touch the handle, he turned you so you could face him and held your chin high.

You tried to fight and push him, doing your best to get rid of his grip and it worked to a point: his hold on your chin had to move so he could hold both of your wrists and use his body strength to secure you against the door, preventing you from moving.

He said your name with such a ferocity you felt scared and stopped for a moment.

“What was that about?” he questioned you when your anger attack seemed to finally cease. You were out of breath and he used it in his favor and rested his forehead against yours.

It wasn’t clear what had possessed you, not to him, but you knew it for what it was. A sense of wrongness took over you the moment you realised you had taken it a few steps too further, the things with Helmut wasn’t only innocent flirting anymore and you felt incredibly remorseful for doing it to your husband.

That such a caring, vulnerable moment was shared with someone that wasn't your spouse. How could you do it with a complete stranger and never with Mr. Bernota?

“Tell me what it is so I can help you, my love” in your moment of stupor, you haven’t realised that tears started running down your face or that Helmut was kissing them away.

You said his name in such a broken whisper that made him whimper, but you weren’t sure if it was to get him closer or away, and grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” I don’t know if this is right.

However, Helmut didn’t allow you to finish the sentence, instead he held you by the neck and pulled you into a kiss.

It was intense. His lips were demanding, forcing you to whine and slightly turn your head so he could have a better access to your open mouth. You followed his lead with hesitation, but kissing him back just as eager, even if a bit unsure.

He pulled you to himself and leaned against the door — you could feel all his curves though the layers of clothing. It was suffocating. Yet you couldn’t stop the kiss, you didn’t have the strength to. Not when he was such a good kisser. Not with his iron grip on your waist keeping you close.

You sneaked your arms around his neck and, to your surprise, when you tugged it with your nails he stopped the kiss with a low moan.

Helmut kissed you with a kind of longing that you could understand too well. Starving for a feeling you had been deprived of for a very long time; denied of it, really.

And you wanted to grab it and take it yourself like he was doing. You really did. But it felt like you couldn’t really let go of it just yet. Helmut sensed something was wrong.

However, he did not stop the kiss.

...

Your husband was annoyed.

Even though he was a reserved man and didn’t really like to share his thoughts with you or anyone else, you have been married to him for some years now and it was very clear when he was in a bad mood.

He shut you completely off the minute the eyes on you two wandered away and it was exactly that what he did when the car’s door closed, but that wasn’t what gave it away. It was only when his leg began to rock you realised something was off. Mr. Bernota was above all a calm man, he wasn’t anxious or unsure of himself; you knew this very well because it was the first thing that pulled you into him and he rarely had any vice other than gambling. He didn’t fidget, he didn’t stutter.

The little fiddling could go unnoticed by someone less attentive, but no small detail could escape your eyes. Especially not when it came to your husband — not anymore, at least.

The rocking of his leg endured the whole ride to your shared house. However, not once he voiced his complaint, he kept looking through the glass the entire route.

When Zemo’s driver stopped at a traffic light that seemed to shine red for an eternity you thought he was about to break, but the green light came first and the ride went its way without so much as a word from him.

You were used to his silence, but it didn’t feel like it usually did. The vibe was tense with his discontent and you dread coming home, but it didn’t last long and soon enough you were passing through the gates to your little vegetable garden.

Mr. Bernota shut the front door with a loud noise that made you immediately worry about waking up your neighbours. You turned around to face him and ask what’s going on, yet before you could open your mouth he marched in your direction prompting you to walk back.

“What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“What’s wrong with me…?” he mimics, cornering you at the dinner table. “Where did you go? You disappeared. Then came back with none other than Baron Zemo himself!”

You realised what it was about then.

“Is that what it is about?” you decide to play dumb, praying to the moon for this to work “I was taking a break.”

He huffs, walking to the mini bar at the very corner of the room.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You may like being the center of everybody's attention, but I don’t. I need some time off”

“I’M NOT AN IDIOT” he throws a glass at the wall near you. You try to turn away to protect yourself, but some shrapnel still scrape your arm and get on your hair.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

In a moment of fury he chases you around the table. You do your best, but running away in high heels isn’t easy. He gets a hold of your arm and pushes you against the wall.

"Don't play dumb, my dear. It doesn’t suit you.”

You try to get away from him but, just like Zemo’s hold, his doesn't loosen with your attempts. “Let go of me.”

“No” He shoves you harder. “Listen to me: HE. IS. DANGEROUS.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s threatening me. He…” he tries to reason, looking for words to explain what happened at the casino the night he came back.

“Oh, it is no wonder. How many months late are we, husband?”

“You’re not understanding!” he lets go of you to run his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath in. He’s out of shape, you realise, with dark bags under his eyes and fair skin.

“What’s to not understand?” you ask, following him when he walks back to the mini bar. “You lying to me? You going to that damn casino almost every fucking night? You throwing my money away? Leaving me without a single penny left?”

“It ain't my fault we don’t have any money left. Your dear mother doesn’t give you anything anymore! That is not what I was promised!” he turned around, a new glass with hard liquor in hand.

“AND WHO’S FAULT IS THAT?”

“SHE IS RICH! SHE DOES NOT NEED ALL THAT MONEY TO HERSELF!”

“SHE DON’T GIVE ME ANY MORE MONEY BECAUSE SHE KNOWS THAT I’M MARRIED TO A BASTARD WHO WILL SPEND IT ALL WITH THE FIRST PRETTY FACE HE SEES INSTEAD OF BEING HOME WITH HIS FUCKING WIFE!”

He hits you.

Hard.

With the back of his hand.

Then you gasp for air. But it is too late because he once again pushes you to the wall, this time his hold is at your throat. You claw his fists but he doesn't let you go.

“I’m going to say this only once more: Zemo is dangerous. He isn’t our friend and he doesn’t want our well being. He’s been following us. He won’t stop untill he have his fucking money.”

When he drops your neck, your knees give in and you fall. Finally realizing the depth of reality.

...

You’re fidgeting again.

It is hard to let go of old habits, you wanted to say. But I’m getting over it, I rarely want to these days.

Instead, you nodded and remained silent. Indeed it’s hard to let go of old habits.

When your mother left the room to ask for tea, you couldn't help but wonder about the short interaction. How it always seemed she had something to complain about, even if you didn’t visit in weeks, and how she always ended up as the one simply trying to help.

She was right, of course, your hand couldn’t stop playing with the rem of your clothes, but the endless effort to get you to be the best version of yourself she put you under was a burden you never truly learned how to deal with. It was simply too heavy to carry and, even now, it made you much more aware of the imperfection than you normally would.

When you were younger you dreamed of it stopping once you married.

However, you didn’t have time to weigh it for long, she came back smiling and sat at the end of the table. The maids followed her with trays of food and tea.

“So, darling” she started, adjusting her dress, but waited for the maids to go back to finally ask: “What were you grumbling about?” The usual.

Well, the pleasantries lasted longer than expected.

You took a deep breath.

“I was telling you about my landlord, Baron Zemo…”

“Oh, yes, yes…” She didn’t even bother to pretend giving you her total attention, looking for a perfect biscuit to eat. “Excellent family. I visited Sokovia when I was pregnant with you, then he was just a boy, not much older than 10… Lovely. Very polite.”

“That’s not… the point” you murmured, taking a sip of your tea.

She faced you, clearly unhappy with a frown. “What’s that, dear? You know better than to whisper. That is not proper and nobody can understand you this way.”

“I’m sorry” you apologised, letting go of the teacup and looking down.

“Hm” she drank her tea, not facing away. You could almost feel her eyes burning you, looking for a flaw to fix, but you didn’t have the strength to confirm it — you tried to fix your posture or lift your face, in case that's the reason she didn't look away.

It didn’t work. It never did.

You were feeling unease, unsure if you should just keep drinking or do something when she finally said something.

“Go on. The Zemo family.”

“Ah!” you breathed. “Of course. It’s just the new Baron now, I’m afraid. He…”

“He…. what?” he asked, impatient.

"It 's just… He’s back in town now, you must have heard.”

“I did. Mary, bring us more biscuits.”

The maid left, leaving the two of you alone.

That is it. You wouldn’t have a better opportunity than this for a private meeting and you needed it to be discreet.

“He is our landlord, Mother. And now that he’s in the city… I was wondering if you could…” you cleared your throat. “If you could lend me money to pay the rent.”

Your mother put the teacup loudly into the table, then the room fell silent. You faced her and her icy eyes.

It wasn’t like you expected an understanding reaction — you've been through this exact same situation before and her reaction has always been the same — cold, displeased, angry. Even the first time you didn’t find any kindness in her eyes.

She was, after all, right not to, although. Time after time you asked for money and time after time you didn’t pay her back. How could you? You didn’t have any income and your husband's salary, the petty weekly allowance he gave you, had to go all to the grocery or else you’d starve.

You felt humiliated. But what else could you do? The situation, the almost poverty you find yourself in, didn't leave any space for pride. You couldn’t afford it anymore.

The repetition never made it any better, but you were indeed used to it. Because, before begging for her money, you used to beg for affection.

Some would think that after repeating the same situation for so long it could make you feel famility in it, but it was the complete appost — each time it got worse, like a nightmare repeating itself, but you never wake up from this one.

“I knew it,” she said, getting up and walking to the door.

You followed her up to the living room, then upstairs.

“Mama, wait for me.”

“I knew it from the beginning” you could tell she wasn’t running from you only because she took great satisfaction from appointing your past mistakes. That didn’t prevent you from feeling sick. Losing your breath.

“What are you talking about?”

She didn’t turn around, she didn’t feel the need to look into your eyes or to acknowledge you at all.

“You’re just like your father, incapable of taking care of yourself!”

With that, you stopped. You couldn’t move.

Yet, she kept walking down the corridor, to her room.

Your eyes were burning with tears, but you forced yourself to swallow it. After years and years of practice it wasn’t so hard. Instead of crying and showing her how much it hurted, you walked to the balcony and waited for her.

She would come for you. After all, she never left you with just one insult.

As you expected, it didn’t take much for her to come back. You managed to cry only a few tears and clean your face before she faced you.

When you looked up, you saw the thick manilla envelope she was carrying .

“There it is,” she threw it. “I don’t know exactly how you owe him, but I think that’s enough.”

“Mom…” you tried to reason.

“Don’t” she put her disheveled hair in place behind her ear. “I don’t know what I expected from you, but I’m still disappointed.”

“This will be the last time…”

“The last time?” She laughed. “You have been telling me that since you married. Don’t waste your time lying to me.”

“I…”

“You what?” She scoffed.

“But I will tell you this: this money will be the last thing I’ll ever give you.”

You accept it, a lump in your throat, because you don’t know what else to do. The envelope is heavy on your hand and you can’t look away, like it’ll fire if you don’t pay the right attention to it.

“Your husband and you are ruining the family name. If you don’t fix it, don’t bother coming back” she says before turning around to leave. However, she changes her mind and stop to face you.

"One last advice from a mother that cares: let your husband be the one that pays the debt and never again contact him.

Rumor has it that the Baron is accepting something else as rent from you."

...

You look deep into the reflection of your eyes in the elevator mirror. You feel exhausted and you still kinda look like it even though the hours you spend in the bathroom this morning getting ready.

But it’s no wonder. You didn’t sleep well last night, or any night prior — you couldn’t. Not with your husband missing. Not knowing you’re walking to the lion’s nest. However, you have no other choice.

You have no other choice.

The only solace you have is that this whole mess is finally about to end — part of it anyway, you still have to find a solution for the problem that is your spouse.

So you do your best to put things in place and look respectable in the short minutes the elevator takes to lift you to the penthouse. You take a deep breath in — you have to make him listen to you.

Thee doors open sooner than expected.

The hall is quiet and you have to force yourself to walk. You tighten the coat around yourself, looking for the little comfort you can have before facing him. The walk, though, is short and you see yourself at his door.

You pull your shoulders back, fixing your posture, and lift your chin.

You take a deep breath again and, before you can knock, the door open. Zemo’s figure looms behind the door and sweetly smile, tall and inviting as always, but now all you can feel is threat. Yet, because you decided to play his game, you pretend to not fear him, smiling back.

The less he knows you know the better. You need an advantage. Any.

He asks you to come in and you follow him throughout the living room, to his office. All the furniture is in place, clean of his decoration, you realise.

“I’m sorry,” he started, putting some papers on the table. “The room is a mess.”

The room is filled with luggage, most of them already closed and set near the door. Hope fires in your chest. It can’t be, can it?

You dust the seat near the window, looking for a moving truck on the street. You wonder what are the chances of this really happening, this is the last floor and your eyes are not that good anymore.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind” you look back at him. “But I must ask: why do you have so many bags here?”

He’s already fitting you, the smile he reserves for you in his lips.

“I’m moving back to Sokovia.”

“Oh,” you have to look away to not display the bliss that suddenly filled you. However, Zemo reads your tears wrong, taking your joy for hurt, and comes to you, kneeling in the ground — you don’t try to correct him.

“No, Darling. There’s no reason to cry” he says, caressing your hand. You feel disgusted, but let him comfort you anyway. The more pliable he is, the best.

You use the hand he isn’t holding to clean the tears and look down at him.

"It's just… I enjoy your company so much” it is not a lie, though. You really used to love his company.

“I know, darling. Believe me, I know” he’s smiling again, squeezing your hand. There’s something in his eyes you can’t quite understand: it’s like he’s hoping for something. But what could he possibly want from you, besides the money?

“Now, let’s not cry,” he says, getting up and gathering the papers and a book to fit into a suitcase. “To what I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Actually... I came here to pay off my debt” you say with a firm tone. Zemo is taken aback, turning around with a furrowed brow. You look him dead in the eyes, flexing your hand before reaching inside your coat. “And to... to... look for my husband”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Instead of properly answering him, you put the manila envelope on his desk. And it almost feels like a weight is lifted from your shoulders, like you can breathe again. Zemo, however, doesn't look so satisfied anymore.

The frown gets darker when he counts the money and it has the exact amount you owe him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, reaching for a cigarrete in his pocket,

“My husband” you simply say, choosing to ignore him light the damn cigarrete. "Have you seen him? He was supposed to come here and pay for his debts as well... But he didn't come back..."

It's been a week since you've seen your husband to be exact, a week since he was sent to pay what was due and nobody knew of him, not even his friends from the damn casino.

“You cannot expect me to believe that you're actually worried about him” he comes in your direction, but, when you flinch, he stops. Runs his fingers through his hair and exhales the smoke through his nose. “And I’ll not accept your money either.”

You get up.

“Why not?”

“That’s not right” he uses the same tone as you did before, like it explained everything. He turns to put the cigar in the ashtray, you follow him. “I don’t need your money.”

“‘That’s not right’? What do you mean..?” you hold his arm to try to get his attention or make him turn back — it doesn't work, instead, he pours whisky for himself. “I live in one of your buildings. You’re my landlord and I’m your tenant. It is right.”

“You know that isn’t what I’m talking about”

“Helmut, please” you try. “For the friendship we once had, if that too wasn’t pretend, please.”

It makes him stare at you.

“What do you mean? What did he told you about me?”

You try to hold the tear, but that’s futile, they already run down your face. Your grip on his waistcoat tightens.

"Does that... does that mean what he said is true? Do you pretend to leave?"

“He...? So he was here...? Did he pay you?”

Zemo grabs your shoulders and corners you into his desk, letting go of the glass. His eyes lit up with pure hatred and rancor, his hands were unforgiving, hurting you.

“With what lies did your husband fill your mind with? Why would you want to leave me?”

You sobbed.

“Please...don't kill me” he immediately sobered up. His eyes widened, he shook his head.

“What?” he asks and even in your panic you can tell he sounds startled for the second time tonight. “What are you saying, dummy?”

You try to get away from his arms, but he managed to get a better grip of yourself, bringing you closer. He uses an arm to hold your back and the other in your cheeks to try to face him.

“No. No…”

“Darling, don’t you see?” he asks, chuckling. “To hurt you is the last thing I want.”

Zemo kisses your lips. When you don’t respond to his advances, he kisses down your neck. Biting and licking your sensitive skin with a ferocity of a hungry beast, he moans when you whimper — your reaction only fuels the fire inside him. He wants you. He wants you.

And now, with your husband away, he can finally have you properly. But you're not kissing him back.

"Can't you see that I only want the very best for you?"

His kisses are hot against your skin, making you burn deliriously. He seems to know exactly where to kiss and suck to make you melt, but with the unrequired pleasure comes the fear. And you try your best to push him; it works against you, like he gets eager each time.

"You don't need to resist me anymore."

Zemo lifts and lays you on his desk, forcing your legs to part.

“You’re so warm, so warm” he spits in his left hand fingers and sneaks them in your pants, shamelessly moaning when the fingertips find your underwear. “Oh, Darling."

Zemo plays and pinches with your folds for good minutes before focusing on your clit, circling it with his middle and ring finger. You try to resist it, but he touch you just in the right places. He tries to kiss you again, but you turn around, pressing your head into the wood surface and away from him; so he kisses your collarbone instead. When your blouse gets in the way, he tears it apart and resumes his kisses on your breasts.

He left you with awaking love bites and hickeys.

His breath loses rhythm when he finally forces his finger inside you and you clench.

“Helmut” you try to reason. “Helmut, please” but he can only focus on the way your voice sweetly sings his name.

So he opened his flies. You’re too weak to even realise that before he takes off your pants and feels his bulge against your sensitive core, by then you don’t even have strength to try to fight it. You just let it happen.

"I know you desired it too, since the beginning. Why won't you let go even now, when you're clearly enjoying yourself?"

When he rut on your folds to gather wetness, you only voice a faint whimper. You feel so overwhelmed. His touch is the only thing keeping you awake.

“Oh, look at you. So sensitive” he whispers, his voice a tone deeper and rougher. “So wet. If I only knew you'd react so well and pliant, I’d get on it before. In the restroom, remember?”

Your eyes feel so heavy, you don’t have any force left to keep them open. However, Zemo has other plans.

“No, no, no, no. Keep them open, I want you to look at me when I enter you” He holds your face, forcing it to turn his way. You comply.

When he does push inside, Zemo takes his time. It is slow, savoring each second of it. His eyes only leave yours to look down where he fucks you open and, when he sets fully inside you, he moans loudly.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex with your husband, or with anyone else, and the stretch feels foreign. Zemos isn’t by any means average and, despite being still inside of you, you suppose it'll be hard to get used to it, it still burns.

He lies all his weight on you and bites your neck, humming something. Savoring the moment.

Then he moves. Deep, hard thrust that makes you see white with each push. You can’t help but moan, scratching the skin of his shoulder and neck — looking for leverage. Zemo wasn’t going fast, but you couldn’t catch your breath.

“You’re so tight,” he breathes on your face, looking for your lips. “How long did you wait for me, my love?”

“You’re delusional.”

“What?” he thrust especially hard and you whimpered. “Is that the sound of an unsatisfied woman? I don’t think so.”

He resumes his rhythm.

When he tries to kiss you again, you comply. Unlike the way he fucks you, his kiss is messy: it's sloopy, with teeth and tongue and he moans as soon as you kiss him back. Using his grip on your neck to force you to move together.

It doesn’t take long for Zemo to lose his composure once he is near his orgasm, you realise it when he breaks the kiss to gasp for air. He force your leg around his hips and tighten his grip on your waist, pulling you to find each of his thrusts midway. He bites your pulsepoint to hold the moans.

“Zemo” you call for him.

“HMM” is the only answer you get.

“Please” you beg, pulling his hair. He has to listen to you. “Please! Don’t come inside me.”

He chuckled and faced you.

“Where else would I come?”

“Anywhere else!” you whine. “Just, please. Not inside…”

“There’s no need to be afraid” he interrupts you, not stopping or losing rhythm of his movement. “Your husband isn’t going to be in our way. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“What?”

“Shh, shh” he silences you, moving back to your neck. His moans get louder and thrust deeper, you can feel yourself getting closer with his ministrations. You clench around him, but you refuse to let go.

He knows exactly where to suck and kiss. And you bite your lips to hide your pleasure, yet your eyes roll and your legs tremble.

“Zemo!” you shout when he bites down hard and releases. He groans between his teeth and thrust a few more weak times before keeping still.

He doesn’t move for a good pair of minutes, getting comfortable above you. Hugging you.

When he does move, he gets up on his elbow to have a good look at you. A big smile on his face. He doesn't say a thing and you just look back at him, incapable of muttering anything as well. Feeling mortified. Weak to your knees.

Zemo lifts you with the holds on the back of your neck so he can kiss you. This one is sweet. Chaste. And it ends quickly.

However, he hasn’t had enough of you yet. He gets up, then takes you in his arms and walks to his suite.

You wonder what your future holds for you when he lays you on his mattress.

“Here” he whispers. “Let me help you.”

He takes what was left of your cloth off, covers you with a golden yellow blanket and joins you.

Zemos holds you close, running his fingertips on your back.

“Everything will be fine now, darling,” he says. “Soon, your husband will have a funeral and we’ll be able to move to Sokovia.”

You gasp for air, looking up at him.

“Yes,” he goes on with a smile. “You didn’t think I’d forget anything, did you? Once we settle there, we will get married in the same cathedral my parents did.”

“We will finally be happy” he concludes.

...

You could feel the tension between the two of them from across the room. If you made your way to your office and closed the door, you could still feel it. One day it would all snap. You just knew it. 

They had first started this staring contest at the bar. You would never forget that day. It was odd to see Bruce Wayne out for a drink by himself. His face was as hard as stone, and his brown eyes narrowed. He drummed his fingers against the blank granite counter. Zemo was on the other end of the bar. You hadn't noticed him until he approached Bruce. Then, as the days went on, they slowly started to sit closer and closer until they took a table together. 

From a glance, it was hard to tell they hated each other. When they talked, they gave each other painted smiles. But you could see the cold stares and hear the low tones of their voices. In fact, you were probably the only one who was aware of their disdain for each other.

Why they came to your restaurant to have these odd quiet stare downs was beyond you. Sometimes they would call you over to settle a minor dispute. It was always something incredibly petty, like if Superman could defeat the Hulk or if red wine was better then white wine. The arguments never ended with a winner; you didn't care enough to agree with either of them. 

That night you really didn't have time to stand there and nod politely. It was hectic, and everything seemed to be falling apart. Maybe if they weren't so busy with their stupid dick-measuring contests, they would have noticed and left you alone. Perhaps they noticed but just didn't care. 

"Mr. Wayne wants to see you," said the waitress you had assigned to their table. You had hired the most gorgeous woman you could find solely to put her at that table. You hoped and prayed that she would be enough that you could catch a break tonight. Looks like they were stupid as well as blind. 

You groaned and ran a hand over your face. You were at the front of the restaurant trying to figure out how to deal with a double booking. 

"I'm so sorry, I know you are busy. But it's Bruce Wayne, the Bruce Wayne. I tried to ask him if there was anything wrong with the service, but he wouldn't tell me. I think I might have poured the wine on the wrong side. I'm so sorry, I'm still trying to figure that out!" The poor girl would not stop playing with her hair and constantly shifted from one leg to the other.

You held a hand to stop her. "It's nothing to do with you. This is just something he does. Don't sweat it. I can take care of it from here. Could you tell Andrew to come deal with this double booking? If he gives you any shit, be sure to let him know that I know he screwed it up."

She gave a stiff nod. Her lips were pursed in a thin line, and her eyes were wide.  

"Thank you, but if it's about the wine..."

"If it is, it's the least of my worries. I will honestly probably forget it two seconds after I hear about it. Now go."

She hurried off, and you gave a deep sigh. You printed off one check for each of them, hoping you might be able to use it to get them to leave. You really needed an open table. You put your pen down slowly, savoring each second you were not at that table. Running a hand over the smooth black table, you reminded yourself you put with this rich people shit to have nice table. You finally had no choice but to make your way over. They were deep in conversation when you arrived. 

"Good evening gentlemen, is there something I can help you with?" When you spoke, their gazes snapped towards you. It was as if they were racing to look at your first. Both of them always gave you unnerving stares. You never got used to it. 

"Ah yes, it seems we have another bet that only you can settle," Zemo said, smirking at you over his wine. 

"Yes, we need to prove to the Baron here that he doesn't understand people half as well as he claims," Bruce's lips pulled into a smile, and he raised his eyebrows. 

"Interesting that you would claim to have a superior knowledge of human behavior," Zemo leaned back in the black cushioned seat. "After all, you spend most of your time in the minds of criminals."

This was the strangest of all of the things Zemo had said about Bruce. You couldn't understand why he would assume Bruce did that. Bruce never spoke about hobbies; you assumed he didn't have time for them. If Zemo was trying to make Bruce look bad in front of you, he was wasting his time. 

Bruce's jaw tensed, and his fake smile fell. His hand gripping his drink tightened. Zemo's dark eyes brightened, and his smirk grew wider. He took his time basking in the tense silence before speaking again.

"Maybe you think so highly of your claim because you think this beautiful lady is a criminal. In which case, you couldn't be farther from the truth. She is much too sweet for such things." Zemo gestured towards you with his glass. His eyes brazenly ran up and down your form. 

"Don't put words in my mouth," Bruce said in a low voice. His tone sent a shiver down your spine. You were scared of him, and his words were not directed at you. "If we apply the same logic to you, do you assume she is a super soldier? Your study of them is obsessive at best."

They were threatening each other, but you weren't sure what they were threatening each other with. The tension was so thick you found it hard to breathe. You found yourself searching for a way to relieve the pressure. 

"Well, maybe I am both a super soldier and a criminal," you said with a nervous laugh. But, if anything, the tension thickened. You could see out of the corner of your eye one of your waiters. He was frantically pacing, waiting for you to end your conversation. "Yes, see, I am both. Now, if that is all... "You moved your arm to set the check down. 

"Apologies, it seems we have gotten off track. Unfortunately, that was not the bet we needed to settle," Zemo said with a sigh. You moved your hand back and groaned inwardly. 

"We have a more pressing question," Bruce said, his shoulders relaxing only slightly. You weren't sure what was more pressing than super soldiers and criminals. 

"How long has it been since you've had someone in your bed, darling?" Zemo asked with a sly smirk. His tone suggested he was asking about something trivial, but his eyes said otherwise.

Your eyes snapped into a glare, and your fingers gripped the check tightly. They had both worn your patience to dust. Their money and prestige seemed to disappear before your eyes. Now you were just dealing with rich and entitled men.

"I would say six months given that you have recently developed this horrible habit of sleeping in your office," Zemo continued. Your eyes narrowed. Either your employees were gossiping, or Zemo had gone out of his way to know that. "Mr. Wayne here is adamant that it's longer."

"Fourteen months," Bruce said, giving a firm nod. You felt your nostrils flare. Bruce was absolutely right, and it unnerved you. Your last relationship had not been something you advertised since your his boss.

"I simply cannot believe it has been that long," Zemo shook his head in mock surprise. "Not for a beautiful woman such as yourself." 

"That's flattering, but that information is not important," you said, shaking your head. 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Bruce said, but that did not help you feel better. "It's a way of proving who understands you better."

"I don't see how this is at all relevant to my restaurant," you said, folding your arms across your chest. "I work here, and I let my work speak for itself." 

"Such confidence," Zemo held up his glass in mock salute. "Spoken like a woman who has been able to seduce a man in the past six months."

"Sounds more like a woman who has had nothing but work on her mind for fourteen months," Bruce countered. It was as if he couldn't help himself. If he had a chance to prove Zemo wrong, he had to take it. 

You wished they were back to the Hulk vs. Superman argument. At least that had nothing to do with you. It was challenging to find a way to politely tell these two influential customers to shut up. 

"Not all of us have hobbies that take up our evenings," Zemo said as his gaze traveled back to the man across from him. "Most of us can work and indulge in whatever pleases us afterward. This is something you wouldn't understand, which is why your number is wrong."

There it was again, the tensed jaw and steely glare. "Most of us have hobbies that don't involve the takedown of an organization. This would mean one can stay in one place and take time to get to know people. Fourteen is a more realistic number. But it's something you would not be able to understand."

"You're both wrong," you said with such authority you almost believed yourself. You slammed the check on the table. "I've been fucking my head chef in my office for months now." 

It was a complete lie, but you didn't care. It was the only way you felt you could take back control of the situation. You quickly turned and stalked off. The waiter you had seen from before walked with you. 

"Adam is having another breakdown," he whispered, his breath coming out in pants as he tried to keep up with you. "He's threatening to quit again."

Anger boiled inside of you. Not at Adam, your head chef couldn't help himself. It was all directed at those two idiots who took up so much of your time for nothing. 

You stopped at the black counter of the bar. You stared at the beautiful bottles on display behind the counter; the green lights twinkled behind them to make them look even more enticing. Of course, you knew it was all for show, but it made you so badly want a drink.

"I can take care of Adam," you said after taking a deep breath. You turned and looked him dead in the eye. He took a step back as you took a step towards him. He seemed to shrink in your presence. "But I am not to be disturbed by anything else. Not even if we are being robbed. If the restaurant is on fire, I don't want to know until the fire department gets here."

He stared back at you. You took the silence poorly.

"Well? Is that understood?" you snapped. 

He nodded frantically. "P..perfectly. Yes, understood. Sorry!" He stammered out a few more words and scampered away. You immediately regretted your outburst. You tried to treat your staff kindly. Your customers were all upper class, and your team had to deal with their oddities all the time. The two men you had just dealt with were a perfect example. 

You made a mental note to apologize later. But, for now, you had a fire to put out. 

-------

Adam was having a fit about the rosemary. It took way too long to get him to calm down. Then, after he had, only you could go to his apartment and pick the right sprigs. Only you. No one else. Because that was how Adam was. 

You grumbled under your breath the way there and the way back. If Adam weren't such a genius, you would have fired him, but not before making his life miserable. 

As you had feared, all of the issues had piled up when you returned. Even after closing, you couldn't make your way to your office. You were constantly interrupted by employees. They requested time off, complaints about other co-workers, complaints about a customer-it was never-ending. 

They finally let you be when their shifts were over. You found yourself alone for the rest of the night, as usual. It was three in the morning. You would need to go to the market in three hours. Adam would only have the best fish. And if you wanted him to work, it better be the best. 

You used to have other people doing these things. But they had all slowly left. The first one had been your now ex. It had been hard to sit down and find a replacement for him. Now it was impossible to find the time. And training someone to pick good salmon and deal with snootty customers took even more time you didn't have. 

This was why you had started sleeping in your office, only going back to your apartment to shower before lunch. How had Zemo known that? Was it just that obvious? 

You made your way to lock the front door. Tugging on it two times to make sure it was secure. Then you went to the bar to indulge in one of those pretty bottles behind the counter. You mixed a drink with expert ease. You gave a content sigh as you poured it into a glass. 

"How does a naughty little thing like you look so sweet?" A cold, rough voice purred from behind you. 

You jumped, startled. Half of your drink splattered onto the floor. You gave a dejected sigh. It took you a full second before you remembered. No one was supposed to be here.

You spun around to see Zemo sitting on a barstool directly across from you. His fingers were laced together, resting on the counter. He gave you a satisfied smirk as your eyes widened. You hadn't heard him come in or sit down. You gave a hard blink hoping it was just your mind playing tricks on you. But he was still there. Anger and fear rushed through you.

"We're closed," you said, mustering up as much authority as you could. 

"But the bar still seems to be in service," he said with such confidence that you doubted yourself for a split second.

"This is my bar. I can use it as I please," you said, turning away from him again. You took a towel and bent down to clean up your mess. You needed to do something with this nervous energy. 

"Having a drink before driving home, I would say that's very naughty. What would the staff say?" 

You could feel his eyes on your backside. You jerked up to glare at him but missed him in the act. Instead, his eyes met your own. 

"What would the police say when I call them?" you snapped. His thin lips stretched into a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. Every one of your customers probably had Gotham's finest paid off in some way. You should have known better. You sighed and shook your head. "I don't have time for this. Please leave."

"Why don't you pour me a drink, and we can have a pleasant chat?" he countered. 

"No. I only have so many hours before I have to work again," you grumbled, whipping down invisible spots off the counter in front of you. "If you leave now, I will maybe let you back in tomorrow evening for another one of your dates with Mr. Wayne."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his smile fall. His entire face seemed to tense at the mere mention of Bruce. 

"If I could shake off Bruce's vigilant presence, we would have had this conversation much sooner. But, lucky for us, some very dangerous people broke out of Arkham Asylum tonight. So I have you all to myself." 

This time you turned to face him. Your eyebrows raised. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

He gave a lazy shrug. "Let me pour you a proper drink," he said, sliding off the barstool and making his way over to you. 

Your legs were frozen. All you could do was stare in horror as he made his way to your spot behind the counter. He had so easily positioned himself right in front of the only way out. He took one of your most expensive bourbons off the shelf. He looked at the label and slowly poured some in a glass. 

You could only watch his slow, methodical movements. You toyed with the idea of just pushing him out of the way. But you weren't sure you were strong enough for that to do any good. 

He was soon right in front of you. He was so close you could smell the bourbon from the glass and a whiff of his cologne. 

"I haven't seen you try this. It's one of your better choices," Zemo held out the drink expectantly. When you didn't take it right away, he took a sip from it himself. "Here, I'm sure it will be more palatable to you now."

You looked down at the drink. Your stomach was tied up in complicated knots. You were finally beginning to understand what he was here for. You were embarrassed you hadn't realized sooner and terrified that you couldn't get him to stop. 

"Look, Zemo. I'm not interested. Please just leave," you said, trying to keep the fear out of your voice. 

He took a small step closer. Your low back was pressed against the lower counter; it began digging painfully into you. But you continued to push against it to get as far back as you physically could.

"You just need something to loosen you up," he said in a low voice. He took your hand and pressed the glass into it. It dug sharply into your palms. "Let me help you relax." He guided the glass to your lips. 

You let the liquid slide down your throat. You kept your eyes wide and your gaze on him. The drink burned your throat. The situation was so odd, you didn't even realize how it tasted. He finally pulled back the glass. 

"Isn't that better?" he asked. He put a hand on your cheek and studied your face with sharp brown eyes. He made you feel small and weak. He looked down at you like he knew so much about you. He probably even knew things you didn't know.

"Look, Zemo I…" he cut you off with a harsh kiss. The glass fell to the floor with a piercing shatter. Your eyes were wide in shock, and your heart dropped. You had not expected him to just kiss you. No one had ever kissed you like this like they owned you. 

His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You weakly gripped at his suit jacket, desperate for anything to hold onto. You heard him give a sharp exhale through his nose at the simple touch. His hands began to wander lower down your back. His tongue gently pressed against your lips. 

This was all too much for you. You grabbed more of his suit jacket in your hands. Finally, you gave a sharp tug pulling him towards the left, freeing yourself from being trapped against the counter. Then you pushed. 

You heard a large crash, but you didn't stick around to see how much money you had just lost. You just ran. The kitchen was too far away, and you did not have the keys to unlock the front door. So you dashed down the short hallway to your office. Your master plan was to barricade yourself in there and use your desk phone to call for help.

You slammed the door shut and locked it quickly. You let out short, desperate breaths. The office was pitch black. It felt like the darkness was pressing against your shoulders and neck. You took a deep, shaky breath. You were trying to slow your breathing so you could hear noises beyond the door. 

You pressed your ear against the door, your fingers still gripping the lock tightly. It took a moment before your heart stopped beating wildly. You heard nothing beyond the familiar hum of the building. Even so, you were going to push your desk in front of the door and call the police. You may even call Adam, who could be formidable if he was high out of his mind. 

You pulled away from the door and flicked on the light switch. When you turned, you were startled back against the door by a large figure sitting at your desk chair. You let out a strangled yelp, and your hands flew to your mouth. 

Bruce Wayne was sitting at your desk. He leaned back in the chair as if you had invited him to use it. The corner of his mouth twitched into a mischievous smile. But the small smile was far from his cold dark eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you gasped out; all sense of propriety was gone. 

"I could ask you the same question," he said, giving a shrug. "You really should be at your apartment. You closed an hour ago."

You had already played this game with Zemo, and you were not going to do it again. Your eyes snapped into a glare. You charged towards your desk, reaching for the phone. He leaned forward and snatched your wrist. 

He slowly stood and circled the desk. His hand and eyes stayed on you. He was so much stronger and menacing than you had thought. You immediately felt smaller in his presence. 

As soon as he was in range, his other hand flew to your neck. You let out a squeak. He didn't squeeze, but just the feel of his large hand around your throat made you catch your breath. He roughly guided you to the wall and shoved you against it.

You let out a gasp. You used your free hand to try and pry his cold, rough hand off your neck. Your other arm was pinned against the wall. The look in his eyes made your stomach drop. He was imagining what he was going to do to you. You weren't sure what it was, but you didn't want to play out this fantasy with him.

"Let me go," you whimpered, digging your nails in his wrist. 

"I don't see that drug addict chef here. He's at home high as a kite as he always is," his, voice was low, and he tightened his grip on your throat. You let out a strangled cry. "Now, why would you lie about something like that? Are you purposely trying to push my buttons?"

You shook your head as best as you could. Tears were beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. 

"You see when you tell me things like that. It sounds like you are just begging me to come to your office and find out if it's true." His hand released the arm that was pinned against the wall. He let his hand travel down your waist, sending shivers down your spine. You used your free hand to join the desperate attempt to get his hand off your throat. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you choked out. 

"I think you do," he growled. His hand was sliding dangerously close to the area in between your legs. "I can show you just how much you…."

The lock on the door clicked. You and Bruce turned towards the sound at the same time. You had an idea of who it might be. But all the same, you prayed to anything that could hear that it was help.

When Zemo opened the door, Bruce's grip on your throat tightened. You let out a strangled gasp in response. Zemo titled his head. He looked more puzzled than surprised at the scene before him. He let out a sharp breath through his nose.

"This seems a tad aggressive, but I get it she's a delicious little thing," Zemo purred. Then his eyes snapped into a glare. "But if you indulge in this any further, I will let all of Gotham know of your late-night hobbies. And I am not referring to assaulting a certain restaurant owner."

Bruce finally released his hands from your neck. You let out a gasp and began to cough. He barely gave you time to recover before pulling you into a headlock. He pressed your back against his chest and turned to fully face Zemo. You let out a pathetic whimper and grabbed his arm. You were overwhelmed by his scent and the feel of his hard chest pressed against you.

"Is that it? Is that really the only thing you have on me?" Bruce asked. You could hear the beginnings of a smile on his mouth. 

"We can start with telling the world you are Batman, then I can show the rest of what I know if that's what you really want," Zemo said. "Or you can leave without the girl. And your secret's safe with me." He gestured towards the door. 

Your mind was going haywire. You weren't sure if Bruce really was Batman or if Zemo had planted evidence to destroy Bruce's life. It was one of the few times you could have cared less. You just wanted to get out of this in one piece. 

"Interesting, well, if you don't leave this office," Bruce began coldly. "I have a way of letting a certain group know about the research you've been doing. In fact, I could get a hold of the Winter Soldier before you step foot out of this office. What happens to your plan then?"

Zemo's jaw tensed. You hoped that maybe this was too much for both of them. Maybe Bruce would let you go, and they both would walk out, leaving you alone. 

"If both of you leave," you gasped out. "You can keep your secrets. I will not tell anyone what happened or what I heard." There was a tense silence. You could almost hear the gears in their brains spinning. But Bruce made no move to loosen his grip, and Zemo made no move towards the door. 

"My darling, you are correct. It seems we have reached an impasse," Zemo finally said with a sigh.

"It seems we have," Bruce agreed. 

"But you are mistaken to think you have anything to leverage," Zemo held your gaze and slammed the door shut. You jumped in Bruce's grasp at the sound. "There are plenty of things I have beyond your head chef's cocaine habit. I can't even begin to imagine what Batman would have. What he could do to you, to your precious restaurant."

Bruce's silence was more than enough to make your blood run cold. Zemo began to walk towards you. You backed up as much as you could against Bruce's chest. Zemo's kiss still burned your lips. 

"For one night, Bruce, do you think we can agree to play nice?" Zemo asked. He traced a finger down your cheek. "I can hold off planning your demise if you can hold off on planning mine." 

There was a heavy pause. Bruce's grip on your neck loosened, but it wasn't near enough for you to work with. 

"Fine," Bruce answered gruffly. "Just this once. If you touch her after this, I will kill you." 

"I would like to see you try to kill me, but another time perhaps," Zemo's dark eyes were staring into yours. He leaned in and kissed your lips. Bruce finally moved his arm from around your neck, if only to keep his distance from Zemo. Zemo grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you deeper into the kiss.

Your body went rigid. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to plan your next move. The smell of both of their colognes intertwined in your nose and overwhelmed you. If you weren't scared out of your mind, it would have smelled comforting. 

You could feel Bruce watching intently. He finally seemed to snap out of it and let his hands wander. One hand grabbed your ass, and you gasped. Zemo's tongue took advantage and slid into your mouth. 

You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips. Your first thought was to bite down. You wanted so badly to, but Bruce was right behind you. You wondered if he would intervene and punish you, or would he enjoy it? 

Zemo broke the kiss before you could act on that thought. You let out a pathetic gasp for air. His mouth began to travel down your neck, biting and sucking wherever he could. You moved your head to cut off his access to your neck. 

But Bruce roughly grabbed the side of your chin. He pulled your face to the left and leaned over to slam his lips against yours. He was giving Zemo more access to your neck. Zemo took full advantage of it, his lips and teeth only touching the most sensitive parts. 

Bruce grabbed your hip and pressed you more firmly against him. His tongue forced entrance into your mouth. He tasted good, and you hated it. You remembered the feel of his hands against your neck. His hands had been so rough with you over such a trivial thing. 

Zemo's mouth began to travel further down your neck to the area above your chest. He began to unbutton your dress shirt. After the first two, your hands found his. You tried to swat his hands away. What little bare skin was showing made you shiver with cold. Zemo snatched one hand, and Bruce took the other.

Zemo was able to easily unbutton your shirt with one hand. He took his time, feeling every inch of skin that peaked through. You squeezed your eyes shut. You couldn't stand the look on Zemo's face when he held your breasts in his hands. 

Something began to tear near your chest. Your eyes flashed open to see Zemo running a knife along your bra. You tried to move your head away from Bruce to break the kiss, but he only held your face tighter. He gave a low growl in his throat as a warning. But you ignored it. You frantically tugged at their grasps and tried to slam your foot on either of your attackers. Bruce was able to move away with ease. 

"Be careful. We don't want to cut this beautiful skin," Zemo whispered, running a hand up your bare skin. "Not this way."

Bruce finally broke the kiss. You took a deep hungry breath of air. "Put the knife away," he growled. 

"I'm not quite done yet," Zemo pressed, cutting away at what remained of your bra. Bruce pulled you further away from Zemo with a vicious tug of the arm around your throat. Your bra fell to the floor, and your nipples immediately hardened in the cold air. 

"No. No weapons. I don't care if it's the only thing that gets you hard," Bruce's voice was low, and it rattled in your ears. "I wouldn't put it past you to stab me when I'm inside her." 

Zemo gave a defeated sigh and shook his head. "I see the rumors of your open-mindedness in bed were false." He let the knife clatter to the floor, his eyes fixed on your chest. Even with it on the floor, you didn't feel any safer. 

In the blink of an eye were you pinned to the desk. Your breath caught in your chest at the force of which you were slammed against the hardwood. 

The two men loomed over you. Bruce stood next to your legs while Zemo was to your left, his eyes still fixed on your chest. You made a move to sit up once you caught your breath. But Zemo grabbed your arms in one hand and pinned them above you.

Before you could think about kicking, Bruce grabbed your thighs and shoved them apart. He hiked up your skirt, running his hand along a bare thigh. Zemo's free hand was on your breast, giving it a rough squeeze. 

So many hands were on you at once had your head spinning. You were overwhelmed with feelings of dread and the warmth growing in your stomach. 

"Stop, please!" you begged as Zemo gave your nipple a pinch. It was futile, but you hoped that maybe the words would chase away the tight coil of pleasure that was beginning to form.

"You say that," Bruce said with a smirk. "But I can prove otherwise." He pulled your panties aside and slid a finger inside you with ease. An embarrassing, squelching noise filled the room. You gave a sharp cry and arched your back at the intrusion. You tried to move your arms or legs, but both were held in even tighter grips. 

"A beautiful sound," Zemo muttered as he took your nipple in his mouth. You held back a gasp and squeezed your eyes shut. You desperately tried to think of something, anything to distract yourself from these unwelcome feelings.

Bruce pulled your panties off in one smooth motion. Through half-closed eyes, you watched him stuff them in his pants pocket. His hands were back on your thighs again, giving them deceptive gentle caress. 

Zemo pulled your lips into another hungry kiss. You could only feel Bruce's breath against your inner thigh. Your legs tensed as you realized what he was going to do. His tongue gave a gentle flick inside you before he began to devour you. 

You let out a panicked moan that was muffled by Zemo's mouth. You could feel Zemo's lips curl against yours in a smirk. He broke the kiss and, with one hand, began to hurriedly remove his tie. He used it to tie your hands together above your head. Even after he finally let your hands go, it felt like they were still being pressed against the desk. 

You arched your back and gave a gasp as Bruce added a thick finger to his assault on you. Your eyes widened, and you tried to focus on the ceiling to stop yourself from making more noises. But Bruce's skill with his tongue continued to drag them out of you.

Zemo had removed a large hard throbbing cock from his pants. You hadn't noticed since you were so wrapped up in Bruce's administrations. You opened your mouth to protest, but he took it as an invitation. In one fluid motion, it was in your mouth. You let out a strangled gag, immediately tasting precum against your tongue.

"What a wonderful mouth," Zemo said with a shaky breath. He started to thrust slowly. "But if there are any teeth, there will be trouble."

Bruce gave your outer thigh a harsh spank at those words. It took everything inside you not to clamp your jaw over the cock in your mouth. You could feel the disappointment from Bruce when you let out a muffled gasp. He finally removed his tongue and fingers from your pussy. You felt a sense of relief that you only had to focus on one attack on your senses. But the relief was short-lived. 

Your mind reeled when you felt him at your entrance. He had just started, and you already felt him stretching you. You let out a whine in protest. You wanted to push him away or to at least beg him to wear a condom. 

He was slow as he entered you, but it was still too much for you. Every centimeter he pushed, you felt you couldn't take anymore. His eyes were laser-focused on how you took him, and his hands gripped your legs tightly. He bottomed out with a groan. You let out a pathetic whine. There was no way he could move with you so tight around him. You were sure you would break. You couldn't take him like this.

"You're so tight," Bruce breathed, and he began to move at a brutal pace. Zemo gave you no room for comfort. He continued to move in your mouth without mercy and seemed to enjoy the panicked noises that came from your mouth against his cock. 

You were sure you could never sit at this desk again after this. You would never be able to look at its surface without recalling how it felt to move against it with Bruce inside you. You wouldn't be able to look at the painting on the wall without remembering seeing it while Zemo's cock was in your mouth.

The familiar feeling of something tightening in your stomach returned. You almost wanted to push it away, but it was a stronger sensation this time. It made you burn for release. Bruce seemed to realize this and rubbed your clit with skilled fingers. You switched your attention to Zemo's cock, but the fire only burned brighter. You felt yourself burn with pleasure and shame. You knew that you couldn't help it and you just hoped and prayed that they wouldn't notice when you came. 

Pleasure crashed over you in a heavy wave. For a brief moment, all you could think and feel was your sweet release. You clenched around Bruce with a vice grip. Muffled cries came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

Bruce gave a strangled groan, and for a split second, his pace faltered. But he regained his composure quickly, a sneer on his lips. Zemo tightened his grip on your hair, looking down at you with a triumphant smirk. They didn't need to say anything. They both knew.

Hot ropes of cum filled your mouth without warning. Zemo let out an unsteady breath and sank deeper into your mouth, holding you tightly against him. You swallowed it all without thinking. It was difficult to function under the brutal pace Bruce had set. 

Zemo finally stopped his movements, but he did not pull out of your mouth. You pulled your head back in a desperate attempt to take a deep breath, but he tightened his grip on you in a warning. He was staring down at your ravaged pussy with intense concentration. His cock still rock hard in your mouth. 

Bruce finally came inside you with a strangled groan. He gave a few slow, painful thrusts as he emptied himself into you. You clenched onto him as if you would fall apart if he left you empty. You hated that the pressure was building inside of you again. It took all your strength not to grind your hips against him.

Zemo finally released your head and left your mouth. You let out a gasp as you could finally take full breaths. You closed your eyes tightly in shame as Bruce pulled out of you. The air felt cold and lonely around your lower body. You hoped they had their fill and would leave you alone. 

But you were penetrated again with a quick sharp thrust. You gave a panicked gasp. You opened your eyes to see Zemo already inside of you. 

"No! Wait!" Were the only two words you could say before you moaned pathetically.

"I've already waited for long enough, darling," Zemo growled as he pounded you without mercy. His arms holding your legs in a tight grip.

The fact that another man was inside you so soon after the first made the pressure build even faster. You bit your lip trying to think of something, anything, just not this. Bruce's cum soaked cock was in your line of sight. 

"Clean up the mess you made," Bruce ordered in a low voice. He gave you no time to comply. He slid into your mouth with a rough thrust. You moaned against his throat, and he let out a low groan. The taste of his and your cum filled your mouth.

"I don't think you're going to last long, darling," Zemo said with a wicked glint in his eye. His finger brushed against your clit. "If you would stop fighting it, you would be on your third and not second one now." He gave a disappointed sigh. "But alas, you are too stubborn. Such a shame."

He leaned forward and thrust deeper into you. You let out a pathetic cry against Bruce's cock. Your clenched your bound hands into fists. The muffled words that came out of your mouth were 'Don't stop.' For once, you were grateful they wouldn't leave your mouth alone. 

"So close," Zemo whispered. "Just let go." 

You hated that you listened, but you could not help yourself. You let go and came again with a more intense wave of pleasure. Zemo leaned back with a smirk and continued his thrusts as you came. Your eyes widened, but all you could see was white. All you could feel was the two cocks thrusting into you. 

You lay still in the aftermath of your orgasm in confusion and shame. The pleasure was still building. You loved it and wanted it to stop all at once. Zemo finally finished inside you with a growl. Bruce followed soon after, commanding you in a sharp voice to swallow.