#dark zemo

When you come to again, the room is dim. The curtains are drawn against the receding hue of afternoon. You groan as you shift. It’s not quite agony yet, but uncomfortable nonetheless.  

You don’t try to move much further than a twitch or a wiggle. You won’t dare. Not if it means this gets worse. 

You stare at the bell. You're uncertain. You remember Bucky, his gentleness, his help. Yet it seems he did this to you all the same. Or rather that man’s he’s with did. Zemo. That name. A criminal. A terrorist. Why would a hero be hanging out with him? 

It hurts too much to think. It doesn’t matter. If they meant you harm, they would have left you. Bucky says he’s helping. And he has. So far. 

“How are you feeling?” His voice cuts through your thoughts of him. 

You lift your head as much as you can. Bucky stands in the doorway. His shadow crosses the room and he reaches to turn on the lamp beside the grand bed. You watch him. 

“Overhead light’s bright,” he says. “Your head must be going, huh?” 

“A little,” you croak. 

“Have some water,” he taps the brim of the glass on the night stand before he moves closer. 

You lock up, the tension causing a throb in your shoulder, and you let him bring you up to sitting. You feel a bit stronger than before but wobble like jelly in his hold. He takes the glass and brings it to your lips. You drink cautiously. 

“I’m--” 

“Sorry?” You finish before him. 

He pauses, “yeah, I keep... saying that, don’t I?” 

“Mm,” you hum. 

“Well...” 

“What... what happened to me?” 

He sniffs, “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I mean--” He combs his fingers through his hair. “I know what happened...” he puts the glass down. “That-- guy I’m with knocked the building you were in down but you weren’t supposed to be there.” 

“I-- but--- the interview,” you scrunch up your face as you think. 

“Was across the street.” He crosses his arms. 

Your eyes search the wall. “Oh.” 

Another stupid mistake and this one nearly got you killed. You swear you checked the email a dozen the times. The map app was a bit back and forth on the way but you just thought it was your natural lack of direction. Well, so it seems, it was. 

“If I knew innocent people could be hurt,” he says. 

You blink. You’re too weak to dwell on it. It’s all you can do to keep from whimpering. He stares at you. 

“You’re in pain? Or am I making it worse?” 

You choke out a breath. “no, you’re not... I’m just... I feel... unattached to my body. I don’t know. It's hard to... um...” You let your head fall to the side. 

“I know what you mean,” he frowns. 

“Soldat,” the slither makes you tense and grunt. Bucky’s cheeks visibly tick. His eyes drag to the door. “I knew I’d find you close to the damsel.” 

“Zemo,” Bucky’s posture turns rigid as he faces his colleague.  

“Ah, and she is awake. How unfun.” 

Bucky repeats his name and receives a mocking chortle in return. 

“I kid. How is the broken bird? Is she ready to fly?” 

Bucky growls and rolls his shoulders. 

“I am compassionate my mighty soldat,” Zemo taunts. 

“You know my name.” 

“Yes, but you do not give me that delightful snarl when I say it,” he cackles. “Anyhow, the lady, she would require some... upkeep. To wash. And I thought we might offer a sponge bath or some--” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Bucky bristles. 

“I’m certain it’s all you can think of,” the other man chimes. 

“And you don’t think,” he retorts. “I’ll deal with it.” 

“Oh, surely.” 

“Quit.” 

“Quit? What? I am being considerate,” Zemo shrugs. 

“I think I could manage--” 

You try to push yourself up. Bucky spins and shows a palm, “please, careful,” he warns, “In due time.” 

“Oh, certainly--” Zemo begins. 

“I said stop,” Bucky snaps then pinches his nose. “She’s bad enough without you.” 

“Mm, yes, such a pest I am. I’ve provided her this respite to recover. A bed, a room, whatever she may ask...” he nears the foot of the bed, “and she will have it.” 

“What about me? Because I’m asking you to go,” Bucky sneers. 

Zemo laughs again. “You are smart, yes? They certainly unscrambled your brain.” 

Bucky moves faster than anyone you’ve seen. He has Zemo by the throat as he growls. He only gets a snort in return. 

“Oh, go on then, break my neck. See if that will cozen her,” Zemo teases. Bucky shoves him away. “As it were,” Zemo rubs his neck as he leans to see around the other man, “if there is anything I might do or acquire on your behalf, very well let me know, darling.” 

You can only stare. Bucky shoos him with his fingers. They glare at each other for a moment before Zemo leaves with a ‘ta’. 

Bucky turns to you. You look at him. “Can I sleep a bit longer?” 

“Sure,” he answers. 

“Thanks,” you rasp and try to get comfortable. 

“Is it bad? Do you want help?” He moves up the side of the bed. 

“Please, I don’t think... I’ll just close my eyes,” you assure him. 

He sighs, “alright...” 

“I... thank you. I... I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t. Please. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Not again,” he sniffs. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You already have,” you assure. “You saved me.” 

His blue eyes swim as he watches you. His forehead creases and his cheek twitches. You shut your eyes and sink into the pillows. It’s easier to just block it all out. 

💞

You second meal is easier to digest. Bucky places a tray over your lap and you manage to grip the spoon yourself. He hovers, watching as if you might choke at any moment. You take your time, your body adjusting to the movement and the food. 

“Do you prefer honey or sugar?” Zemo draws Bucky’s dull gaze as he strides in, a cup and saucer in his hands. 

“What is that?” Bucky asks. 

“Well, my dear American companion, we serve tea in this sort of china--” 

“Why?” Bucky undercuts. 

Zemo’’s cheeks dimple and his lashes flick, “I am doing my part. And as I am host, I should display my hospitality in full.” 

“Display? Huh,” Bucky sets his feet wide, “no one needs to see your chest hair.” 

Zemo looks down at his shirt, the top three buttons undone. He tilts his head at his companion as you sit silent. Too confused and weak to interject. 

“So uptight,” Zemo comes towards you and places the saucer next to the bowl of soup. “Darling, I apologise for him. He was programmed to be this way--” 

“Don’t,” Bucky warns. 

“Yes, yes, he is not that soldier anymore, forgive me. He is a fine man,” he stays close, his back to the other man. “Listen, it was me who placed the explosives. Had I known you’d be there, I surely wouldn’t have hit that button--” 

“Would you leave her alone?” Bucky grabs him and spins him away. 

“Take your own advice,” Zemo brushes Bucky’s grip away. “How do you think she feels? You’re here, like some mother hen, clucking around--” 

“Better than your yammering--” 

“Please, Barnes, let us save this venom for closed doors. It is not etiquette to be so uncouth in front of company.” 

“You started it,” Bucky sneers. 

“How mature,” Zemo pats his arm with his knuckles and faces you. “So, honey? Sugar? Anything I might fetch you?” 

You shake your head, “erm... thanks.” 

“Yes, of course, I hope you enjoy. I wasn’t sure of what you would prefer. It is a white tea. Keeping in mind your current state, a black brew might be too much,” he explains. 

“Thinks so much of the tea but not the one thing I told you.” Bucky grumbles. 

“Yes, yes, well, we are both old dogs with bad habits,” Zemo turns to him again. “Aren’t we?” 

Bucky growls. He peeks at you then exhales. 

“We’ll leave you alone,” he says. 

You nod. The men don’t move. They just stare at each other. 

“After you,” Zemo gestures to the door. 

“I insist,” Bucky doesn’t budge. 

“Ah but that would be rude of me--” 

“Just--” Bucky blusters and storms toward the other man.  

He grabs him by the arm and marches him to the door. He shoves him through then spins and pulls it shut behind him. The snap of wood makes you flinch. 

How strange this all is. 

💞

Breathless, you curl forward over your lap. The silk pajamas are cold against your skin. You have no idea where they came from, you didn’t have a mind to think of what you’re wearing through all the pain and confusion. 

You heave a breath and whine. It took all your effort to get to the edge of the bed. You need to use the bathroom but have no idea where it is. Or if you’ll make it that far. 

You stay like that, gathering what little strength you have. You lift your shoulders just a little and sidle closer to the end post. You grip the wood and bite down. You slide off the bed and your soles hit the floor. You cling to the bed and whimper. 

It’s a mistake. 

Your legs tremble and your single arm isn’t enough to hold you up. The door swings open as you tip and you’re caught with a jarring force that send a twang through your shoulder. You screech as Zemo hooks his arms behind you and grunts as he moves you back to the bed. 

“Ah, little bird, you’ve fallen from your nest,” he muses as he fixes the collar of the lush pajama shirt. “Be careful--” 

“Sorry, I... I... the... bathroom,” you puff out. “I... I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, I did warn him you are human. You have needs beyond his pecking,” Zemo tuts, “Yes, I can assist.” 

He turns and sits next to you. He snakes his arm across your back. He takes your uninjured one and guides it behind his neck. 

“Shall I count?” He offers. You’re silent. “One three. One, two, three--” 

He stands you up and you falter. You squeak and panic, leaning into him as you hook your arm around his neck and face him. Your press your cheek to his shirt and moan. 

“Oh, darling,” his hand brushes down your side. “Never fear, I mightn’t be enhanced but I might do.” 

He bends slowly and angles you around. He scoops you up in his arms and you groan. The dearth beneath you makes you dizzy. 

“Hm, yes, let us get you to where you need--” he drawls as he approaches the door. 

He stops shorts as a sole scuffs. Your head lolls over as Bucky appears in the frame. He is in a robe, his hair damp, the smell of aftershave rippling from his freshly shaved jaw. You shrink into Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky snarls. 

“Helping,” Zemo retorts. “As you are in your self-care era, I am helping this one care for herself.” 

“Where are you taking her?” 

“Is nothing sacred? This soul deserves her privacy,” Zemo steps forward. “She requires to tend her most human needs.” 

Bucky squints then winces. “Oh, uh...” 

“Yes, so I am only helping as she is struggling to convey herself.” 

“I can help--” 

“You can move. We haven’t time to argue. I feel her squirming.” 

You murmur and let your head fall next to Zemo’s. Bucky sniffs but retreats. Zemo continues out of the room and into the high-ceilinged hall. Your eyes roll over the walls as he strides along to a door. Bucky reaches past him to twist it and pushes it inward. 

“Ah, see, we work well together,” Zemo reproaches as he steps inside. “I will set you down now, my darling.” 

“Yes,” you utter, “thank you.” 

He places you on a cushioned stool near the long counter before antique mirrors. The bathroom is spacious and smells of artificial rain scent. He helps you steady yourself and toys with the satin along your shoulder. 

“She doesn’t need an audience,” Bucky snarls. 

“Certainly,” Zemo draws back and faces the other man. “But wouldn’t it be amusing.” 

The thought coils tightly in your chest, choking the air from your lungs.

"Hi," you manage, your smile strained as a nervous twitch threatens to betray you.

“A little bird told me you bought Natasha’s auction house,” she says with a playful smile. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Jane Odinson. I was at the last auction—I bought a few Sokovian pieces at the last event.”

“Oh?” is all you can bring yourself to say.

She says something else—an invitation to the next auction, Sokovian artifacts—but her voice fades under the pounding in your ears. You nod, her words sinking into the background. Your attention drifts instead to the beasts at your back.

“Oh, Vice Chairman Rodriguez, Senator Schmitt,” Jane calls over to two passing guests. “Come meet my new friend here. She’s the new owner of the warehouse. It’s where I got that piece I was telling you about.”

You nod and hide behind glass of champagne. She takes command of their attention and your grateful for it. She calls over another guest, then another, her charm effortlessly pulling them in.

You try to keep up with the introductions, but you can’t t keep up with which name goes with which face. Is this what it’s like? You don’t know how Natasha does it—how she endures the steady stream of eyes, the constant barrage of attention. The lies, the practiced smiles all feel and draining.

“Boom!” Thor’s hand crashes down onto the table like thunder, drawing the attention of the crowd. Jane cheers as Thor’s gaze flickers toward you for a brief moment before he pulls attention to his wife.

“Ah, so that’s why my luck has changed,” Thor proclaimes, pulling Jane into his lap. "My beautiful wife."

The display turns lewd as he kisses her, hungry and unrestrained, until she slaps him away playfully. You watch as he relents with a grin, the fierce man softening into that of a devoted husband—a stark contrast to the man you know.

“I think that’s all for me tonight, gentlemen,” Zemo says as he rises.

He leaves his chips behind, an amount you couldn’t begin to calculate. His expression remains steady, though tension hums just beneath the surface.

You step back to give him room, but your heel catches, and you stumble. His hand finds your waist quickly, firm and grounding. The warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric as your pulse quickens. His gaze locks on yours—dark, deliberate, all-encompassing, pinning you in place.

"Careful mien Hase."

The words are soft intimate, sending a shiver through you. Your breath stalls as he leans closer, the space between you narrowing painfully slow. Panic wells up, sharply at the thought of him kissing you here—in front of Thor. What would he do? His wife is watching.

Your breath escapes in a quiet rush as he shifts aside, his fingers brushing yours as he takes the glass from your hand. The sound of crystal meeting the table echoes sharply, louder than it should, cutting through the silence and the frantic beat of your heart.

"Come along."

🐇💵

The cold night air splashes against your face as Zemo guides you outside, his hand firm at your side as he marches. The world feels softener, quieter, the murmurs of voices dissolving into the soothing melody of the chirps of crickets and hum of cars as they idle at the end of the drive.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you slur, eyes lidded, head lolling gently against Zemo’s shoulder. You’d never drank so much before. Never knew how heavy it could make you feel, how it can cloud the world around you. Your hands grip at his shirt weakly, fatigue settles over you like a warm blanket, heavier than you'd realized until now. You don’t want to play anymore, just want this all to end, be free of them all.

He doesn’t answer. Did you even say it out loud? His words, low and steady, blur into the background as he speaks to the valet. You sway against him, your legs uncooperative, the ground tilting beneath your feet—or is it the world?

His scent catches your nose—cider, pine, something warm. It clings to the air between you, oddly soothing, a lifeline in the haze of noise and bodies you left behind.

"Thank you, Oeznik," Zemo says softly, almost a lullaby against the blur of your thoughts. The car door clicks open, the sound sharper than it should be, his scent blooming from it. You let Zemo's hands guide you into the back seat—firm, steady, careful.

The hem of your dress catches, sliding higher as you slump into the seat. You grumble something incoherent, batting weakly at his hand as he tugs it back down. His fingers brush your thigh, feather-light before retreating, leaving a trail of warmth behind.

In the quiet darkness of the car, you feel the tension of the night ease, your guard slipping just as the lights blur by outside.

🐇💵

Zemo POV

“Herr Zemo,” Oeznik’s voice breaks through softly, respectful and waiting. His eyes lift, catching Zemo's in the dim reflection of the rearview mirror. The low hum of the engine fills the quiet, patient, for Zemo's command.

Your body shifts, sagging heavily against Zemo’s side, unaware, lost in the warmth of sleep. He doesn’t push you away, unbothered by the soft rhythm of your breath against his skin. His gaze lingers on you, watching as your lashes rest delicately against your cheeks. He can’t recall the last time he slept so soundly, a quiet envy stirs at the sight of your peace.

“Let’s take her home,” Zemo instructs softly, meeting Oeznik’s gaze in the mirror. The older man nods, his hand steady on the wheel as he guides the car into the night, the soft lights casting fleeting shadows across Zemo’s face.

Zemo’s gaze drifts to the window, the world outside moving in quiet flashes—nothing more than blurred colors and shifting shadows. His mind shifts to Thor—the man who still had everything Zemo had lost, the man who had ripped it all away.

His hand drifts to your exposed thigh, his nails pressing thoughtlessly into the soft flesh as his grip tightens under the weight of his anger.

"Thor please," you whimper meekly, your soft features twisting with the pain he caused. You don’t wake, only shifting slightly in your seat, unaware of the venom the name spills into Zemo’s veins.

He breathes in slowly trying to regain control of the anger that licks at his nerves. He’s done this before—he knows how to hold it in, to bury the rage.

A thought bubbles as his mind slowly settles. A faint smirk threatens to pull at his lips as a dark idea takes shape in his mind.

🐇💵

Zemo’s fingers glide gently against the marks he’d left behind, the raised skin beneath his touch like braille. You stir, a soft grumble slipping from your lips, but you don’t wake.

You sleep deeply as his hand trails upward, testing the edges of your slumber. He watches, his palm tucking between your thighs, feeling the warmth radiating from you, drawing him in deeper. Your body stirs a bit, legs parting slightly, just enough for him to settle closer.  

He hadn’t touched another woman since his marriage. That vow, once unshakable, felt distant now—a faint echo drowned beneath something darker, something twisting.

"Stop, please," you pant, tears dampening your lashes. For a moment, he wonders what that man has done to you—but he doesn't care enough to stop.

"Shh, mien Hase," he coos, his thick accent wrapping around each vowel. 

You begin to hum softly, as if Zemo's words were an answer to a prayer. The air between you thickens, heavy with a tension that coils in his chest as your body responses to his touch. A smile pulls at his lips as the dampness bleeds through the delicate between your thighs. The feel pulls him deeper into a need that he couldn't ignore.

"You’re safe with me," he whisper against your brow. You moan in reply, your hips pressing against him mindlessly. He adjusts himself with a quiet exhale, the strain against his zipper demanding the relief that lay between your legs. It’s tempting too tempting to lay you down and slide his cock into you. His tongue drags across his lips at the thought of it as his finger pull your panties to the side.

 "I’ll take care of you now..."

The elastic stretches over his hand as cups your mound. You moan as Zemo sinks in slowly, his movements methodical as he mindlessly strokes himself in tandem. Each dip goes deeper, making you writhe, your body soaking his fingers as the sounds blend with the hum of the luxury car. He doesn’t care if the driver sees him play, but he knows the old man knows better.

Each motion is calculated, every press and glide tethered to the gnawing ache inside him.

For a moment, only the pounding of his heart and the rhythmic slick of your body fills the air, the tension thick as his mind races beneath the surface.

How could you be this wet? Were you ever like this for him? The thought curdled his mind with hate, yet the softness of your insides smoothed the edges of his anger.

You clench around him and Zemo pauses as you, his eye roam your body as a subtle tremor courses through you. It pulls him, caught between indulgence and his mission. It wasn’t desire—he convinces himself it couldn’t be. It was something primal, nothing more.

She scoffs with feigned offense, bringing her hand to her chest dramatically, “you don’t enjoy your time with me?”

You crack a smile and roll your eyes, “oh shut up. You know I love you.”

She smiles smugly, “I know.”

You both turn at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall and smile politely at the man beaming back at you. His long brown peacoat flutters behind him as he saunters over and tucks his hands in the pockets of his pressed black slacks. He always looks like he just stepped off a runway, not a speck of dirt to be seen or a single hair out of place.

“I came to fetch you. It seems your boss has started without you in the staff lounge,” he announces with a subtle accent and chivalrous bow, gesturing to the hallway he just emerged from.

“What?!” Millie shrieks and rushes off, the sound of her heels fading fast as she disappears from view.

You gawk at her sudden departure and tighten your smile as he stands there watching you. His brown eyes sparkle in the bright gallery lights as you meet his eye and clear your throat.

“Thank you, sir… for thinking of us,” you say as you pack up your things and lock away the office laptop.

“Zemo,” he corrects kindly.

You stand and push in your chair, smiling at his request, knowing there is no way your boss will allow you to be so informal with such an important client. Its well known that the Baron accounts for a large portion of the pieces your company restores, as well as being a close personal friend of your boss.

“Well, I better get going,” you mutter, inching toward the hall. “Oh, are you going to the… um, event?” You inquire curiously as he moves to follow you.

His thin lips curve beneath his well groomed beard and he looks down as he walks beside you.“I’m afraid I will not be relishing in Ellen’s latest… event,” he smirks, “but, I do sincerely hope you enjoy the festivities.”

“Of course, I shouldn’t have assumed – you probably have better things to do than attend some silly Valentine’s Day office party,” you laugh in embarrassment.

“You are not fond of the celebration?” He asks, with a tone that implies he knows the answer.

“Well let’s just say my love life has hardly been something to celebrate,” you laugh.

He hums in thought and nods, “a shame. I’m certain that won’t be the case forever. Perhaps this year will be different.”

He stops as you reach the employee lounge door and you hear your boss’s pitchy voice twitter through the cracks. You offer him a genuine smile, and whisper an obligatory thanks before sneaking in through the door. You doubt his optimism, some people just aren’t that lucky.

“Okay now for the fun part!” Your boss, Ellen, squeals from atop the small kitchenette counter.

Thankfully, it looks like you just miss the long annual lecture about love, specifically about how she met her “beau”. Same nauseating story, different bullshit ‘employee-bonding-event’. Last year it was a rave at a roller rink, and who could have predicted roller skates and excessive amounts of booze would be a bad idea. God only knows what you’ll be subjected to this year.

“Hope you guys brought your thinking caps today, because you’ll be going on a treasure hunt! And I wish you all good luck because I wrote the clues myself. Now, don’t worry, you can’t work together if you want,” she winks at the room full of people. “It’s simple, follow the clues, collect the prizes along the way and the first one to make it to the party with each scavenged item gets a special surprise!” She claps her hands, her Botox features tugged into a sharp expression.

Great. Even worse. Now you have to do more than just show up, no way around this one. You sigh and put on your usual fake smile when Millie bumps your elbow and beams in excitement. Well, best to try to enjoy it as much as you can, Millie is right, at least it’s a day away from the front desk.

“So now that we all know what to do…” Ellen scans the crowd, the anticipation growing along with her grin, “…seek out the office that pays you your dues, it is there you will find the first of your clues.”

There is a pause in the crowd as people process the childish riddle and a mutter rumbles thought the crowd.

“H.R.” you hear before someone yells, “Mary’s office!”

The room erupts as all sixty of the employees cheer and rush for the door in a frenzy. You get pushed against the wall as your zeal fails to surpass theirs. A blur of people squeal excitedly past you and you can’t help but laugh. You find yourself at the back of the pack already, though it hardly bothers you. All this commotion over something that is likely a crappy regift that Ellen doesn’t want to keep in her house. Not even Millie waits for you, though you can’t blame her, you’ve always envied her vivacity.

“Try to remember to have fun,” Ellen calls after you as you follow the crowd out the door. You shoot her a smile and a nod before pattering down the hall to Mary’s office.

As the crowd thins you are left alone to decipher the first clue, “come here to meet me and I’ll give you a boost, your next clue awaits where we all go to get juiced.”

You sigh and turn on your heal, the clue is obviously referring to the juice, tea and coffee cafe around the corner. Nearly every employee is addicted, so much so that Ellen pays extra to supply the break room with coffee and treats that you pick up every morning. Despite her over the top personality, you admit that she makes a good boss, always goes the extra mile to make sure her employees are happy and cared for.

“Hey Joel,” you greet the lanky blond barista as you hold the door open for the last few of your coworkers to scramble out.

“Well, that was fun,” he chuckles, looking a little frazzled.

“Now you know how I feel everyday,” you smirk.

“They are always like that?” He inquires with a glazed look fixed on the door.

You laugh, “well maybe a bit more than usual today, but they are a competitive bunch.” You lean up against the counter, tapping your finger as you scan for what they found that you are clearly missing. “Want to help me out? Got a clue for me or something?”

“Oh shit, yeah. Umm, here,” he pulls over the last to-go cup and slides it to you with a smile.

“Thanks,” you smile and read the hand written note on the paper sleeve. “Do you remember our last dance? I’d do it again if given the Chance,” you quote aloud dryly and scoff. “That isn’t even clever. Chance is literally the name of the club we went to for our company Christmas party.”

You roll your eyes and Joel chuckles, “your boss takes you to a club for Christmas? Where the hell do you work again?”

“It’s a private art gallery, we also do restorations too… or they do. I just work the front desk.”

“That sounds cool,” he nods.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” you return, smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Well, I’ll see ya Monday.”

You step out into the warming afternoon air, not a single coworker in sight as you take the nearby subway to the club a few blocks away. As you get off the train you see a few groups of your coworkers already rushing back down the stairs on their way to the next clue. Your lack of urgency is setting you farther behind, and yet you can’t convince yourself to care.

You climb the stairs and cross the street to the big metal door, thankful you knew it’s location as the darken neon sign above does little to mark it. You find the club owner, another friend of Ellen’s named Lyndon, waiting for you with your next clue.

“Thought you might have gotten lost there, little one,” he chuckles, a half-smoked cigar bouncing between his full lips. “Here you go, sweetheart, keep this on, you’ll need it later. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He waves you forward with his pudgy hand and holds up a wristband. He clasps it together easily and let’s his moist hand linger on your soft skin, causing you to snag your hand away.

“Thank you,” you offer meekly and head back out onto the street.

You unroll the piece of paper neatly wrapped around the thickest part of the wristband and read the inscription to yourself, “to find your next step forward you must first recall the past, look where your boss found a love made to last.”

Another easy one, it’s the story she tells every year on Valentines Day. A blind date with an asshole, saved by a stranger who bought her a big cotton candy and took her ice skating in Central Park. They married a year later, a cute story but hardly worth the twenty minutes of exasperating details.

Another ten minute subway trip has you walking around the stone pathway along the outside of the large ice rink surrounded by the leafless trees of the sunny park. You spot a lone cotton candy cart near the entrance to the rink and make your way over to it. Seems the likely location. The man behind the cart watches you the entire way, adjusting his hat almost nervously as he waits for you to near.

“Hi,” you greet with a polite smile. “Do you by chance have a clue for me? My boss has me on this scavenger hunt.”

His eyes flick down your body, his cheek twitching, “what’s your name, gorgeous?”

You hesitate but give him your first name and he nods with a hum. “Yeah, I got a special little something for you right here.”

You hide your grimace at his suggestive tone as he ducks under the cart and pulls out a small blue cotton candy. He hands it over with a wink and waves away your attempt to tip him, assuring you he’s been paid well for the trouble.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you turn away, eager to get away from his knowing smirk and unnerving gaze.

God you hope this shit is almost over. A small bite of the fluffy spun sugar lifts your spirits as you read the next clue. You tug the small tag off the stick and pause at the short line of print, no rhyme or jaunty riddle this time, just an address. You type it into your phone to discover it’s the location of an expensive boutique within walking distance.

“Jesus, I draw the line at costumes,” you grumble and follow the map on your phone.

The bell dings as the the door opens and you take a tentative step inside the high end dress store. The white floors glow as the sunshine streams through the large windows and mirrors cover every inch of wall space. A rainbow assortment of dresses hang neatly spaced on the metal bars while glass cases house expensive purses and accessories. It’s all very chic, and it makes you uncomfortable. This is well outside of your price range, but if Ellen’s paying, who are you to refuse?

“Hello,” sings a man, his orange ensemble flashing in your periphery. “May I help you?”

“I hope so,” you return as he pulls your attention away from the rack of sequined cocktail dresses. “My company is doing this sort of Valentines Day scavenger hunt and I got this address…”

He smiles and gently taps your hand to stop you, “I know exactly who you are, honey. I have your dress back here waiting for you.”

“Dress?” You inquire as you follow his heeled footsteps down the hall to a round mirrored dressing area. He points you to a door with a red dress hanging from it and ushers you inside to put it on.

“It fits perfectly,” you say in wonder as you exit the stall and turn to look at yourself in the mirrors.

“Well of course, honey. Nothing but the best here,” he laughs and grins as he watches you spin.

“Ok. But now what? Am I supposed to just wear this out of the store? I don’t even know where I’m supposed to go next…” you note.

“It would be a literal crime to NOT wear this dress the rest of the day… well, until you find your special someone to take it off for you,” he winks. “And now I’m supposed to pass you off to Miss Wendy next door.”

“Next door?” You ask puzzled as he escorts you out the front door and points you to the conveniently located shoe store a few paces away. “Oh.”

“Have fun, girl! Don’t forget to thank me when you meet that hottie tonight,” he wiggles his fingers with a playful wink before shutting the door behind him.

“Yeah, right,” you sigh.

You smooth your hands down the intricate detailing of the expensive fabric, the lace hem brushing lightly against your knees. Well at least it isn’t some crazy costume, it’s a tasteful choice, something you wouldn’t expect from someone like Ellen.

The second store goes by quickly. Wendy the sweet older woman who owns the store is just as prepared for your arrival, fitting you with a pair of matching red heels.

“You look beautiful, dear,” her voice shakes slightly as she strains to stand.

She offers you a sweet smile before pointing out the window to the black Sudan parked outside. A man leans against the passenger door and perks up when he spots her waving at him.

“This is your last stop, sweetie. You go and have fun now,” she pats your arm as you step toward the stranger at the door.

“Uh, did everyone get private cars to the party? Seems slightly excessive,” you admit nervously to Wendy as you eye him.

“This is Carl,” Wendy chuckles away your reticence, “he’s going to escort you. Go. Have fun, be young and enjoy yourself.”

Her endearing motherly energy soothes you and you take a deep breath, “thanks Wendy, I’ll try.”

“Good,” she returns with a satisfied smile.

You follow Carl outside and let him open the car door for you. He doesn’t say much, his answers to your questions are short and vague but polite. He smiles quietly the whole way, even as he pulls over near Rockefeller center and gestures you toward the building. He waves over someone to take the car and leads you inside, nodding to security guards who quickly let you both pass. The further you go the more anxious you get. Something feels wrong.

“Carl?” You mutter quietly as you wait outside a small elevator and he hums in acknowledgement. “Are you sure this is where my work party is?”

He hesitates, measuring his words carefully, “I would never take you where you aren’t supposed to be, Miss.”

Your brow pinches as the doors open and you step inside. He presses the button for the seventh floor and you bite your lip as your stomach knots in anticipation.

“I’m not feeling so good,” you mutter shakily as the elevator doors open.

“Follow me miss, the fresh air will help,” Carl pushes open a door and what little breath you have is stolen by the sight before you.

A beautiful green lawn and manicured garden is surrounded by towering walls of city skyscrapers with the gothic St. Patrick’s Cathedral as the crowning jewel. It glows with precisely placed spotlights, offers the most jaw dropping backdrop to the already stunning view. Candles in white tin lanterns litter the grass along with sprinkles of red rose petals, creating a magazine-worthy Valentines Day scene. You get lost in the beauty of it until the door clicks behind you.

Carl is gone and the silence of the rooftop descends upon you like a dark cloud. No loud coworkers, no exuberant boss, just you and a mysterious figure on the other side of the garden with his back turned to you.

You wet your lips and pull your faux-fur coat tightly around you as you follow the pavers across the garden. Soft romantic music plays from hidden speakers and your heart thumps loudly in your ears as you near the stranger.

“Hello?” You call, hesitant to get too close, as though subconsciously giving yourself room to run.

You’re unsure if he hears you until you see his arm raise and he flicks two of his fingers to gesture you closer. You swallow and take a step forward, craning your neck to get a better look at him. You admire his expensive black suit, his dark hair slicked back neatly as he stares over the ledge of the building.

Your heels clack against the stone floor, only a few feet away from him now when he finally speaks, “this view is one of my favorites in the city. Always takes my breath away, no matter how many times I see it,” he praises.

You recognize that faint accent and the scent of his cologne on the breeze. He shakes his head softly, and you notice his neat beard hiding a small smile as he turns to look at you.

“But you, my Beauty. You,” he pauses as he drinks you in and your heart skips a beat, “…outshine it all.”

You stand there in shock, but mostly confusion, “Sir?”

“I know, it’s ok. Take a moment to process, I will wait,” he says calmly, bringing a crystal glass of whiskey to his lips as he watches you.

“Is this a prank or something? Did Ellen put you up to this?” you look around, half expecting to see your coworkers giggling from the bushes at your expense.

“I assure you the only motivation I have for bringing you here is my own,” he smiles reassuringly.

“You brought me here? But what about the office party?” You worry, the last thing you need is for Ellen to think you bailed.

“Don’t worry, I will handle Ellen,” he chuckles. “But tell me, are you truly satisfied with your position? I admit you caught my eye the first time I saw you and I got curious. Though you were always too shy to realize my interest, even after months.”

Your mouth opens but no words come out so he continues, “so imagine my surprise when I go digging and discover Ellen has been hiding her biggest talent behind a front desk,” he tuts his disappointment. “I find it hard to believe this is what you moved out here to do.”

“Well, I…” you stutter, dazed by his intense stare and unnerving insight. “I wanted to be a painter, but Ellen said I needed more experience, that I’d be better talking to people in the art world first.”

He smiles and lets out a short breath through his nose, sensing your reservation to speak your truth, “and you agree?”

“I think I’m lucky to have a job that pays me well, and I get to work in an industry I love. And hopefully one day I will get to use the connections I’ve made here to have the opportunity to share my work.”

“Mmm,” he nods. “Very sensible.”

He turns away to admire the view around you and you take the opportunity to do that same. There is a tension in the air as you wait for him to explain. Is this a test? Is he going to offer you a job or try to get you to leave Ellen to work for him? You bite your lip and study his pensive expression, hoping to guess what he’s thinking.

“I chose this spot because it reminds me of you. It’s unique, understated, and beautiful… but it’s hidden, only to be enjoyed by a privileged few.”

You gulp, trying to control your nervous shifting, hands gripping the collar of your coat tightly as your heart beat quickens. His calm demeanor is ironically unsettling.

“Sir, why did you bring me here?” You mutter nervously.

His serene smile falls and he turns back to you with tight lips, “it’s Valentines Day, and I got you all dressed up to have a private gourmet dinner, on a romantic garden rooftop, in the middle of New York City,” he pauses to let his eyes rove down your body and you shiver. “I would think my intentions are rather obvious.”

Your chest tightens in fear. Fuck. What do you do? How do you politely put him down without insulting him? You know a blunt rejection can possibly lead to losing your job, but you don’t want to mislead him either.

“Sir?” You squeak.

“It’s Zemo, my beauty. No need to play coy any longer,” he reaches over to brush a knuckle along your heated cheek and you flinch.

“Look, I’m very flattered. Honestly. I never imagined a man like you would notice a nobody like me, but… I really think I should go find my coworkers,” you step back to get some distance as it feels like the towering buildings might swallow you whole.

He brings his finger to his lips, pressing against them as he hums thoughtfully. “How about you stay for dinner and if by the end of the meal I have not persuaded you, then I will return you to your little office party.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce after a moment.

“Shall we?” He holds out his arm to the silk tent set with a table for two inside.

You near one of the chairs and he’s there to pull it out for you. You mutter a quiet thanks and sit rigidly on the cool seat as he settles across the small table. The intimacy of the setting is hard to avoid, no matter how you wish to keep it professional. His dark penetrating eyes follow your every move and it puts you on edge.

His hand slowly reaches across the table and your eyes widen, until he stops and grips a small silver bell, ringing it lightly. The corner of his lip curls as he watches you relax as he retracts his hand and a waiter rushes over with a tray out of the darkness.

The metal tin covers are removed with a flare and the Baron smiles sweetly at the waiter, “thank you. You may leave the bottle and go enjoy the rest of your evening. I do not think we’ll be here long.”

You relax a bit at his words, grateful that he doesn’t want to drag this out. “Thank you,” you offer to the waiter before he disappears into the shadows and you hear the click of the door across the lawn.

You pick up your fork and poke at the overpriced entrée, your appetite lost as your nerves buzz with quiet impatience. You wish he would just let you leave.

He takes a bite and hums in satisfaction as he watches you, “delicious.”

Your eyes flick up to him as he licks his lip and dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He chuckles when you quickly look away from his lecherous grin.

“I admit, I am not used to demure women. As a youth from a noble family I rarely had to seek attention, women would typically come to me,” his eye twinkles. “And though the military offered little of such comforts, the women I did meet were always experienced, confident beasts. But you…my beauty… you are something else.”

He leans forward, eyes dipping down to drink in your nervous figure, “Sir, thank you for the dinner, but I think I should go.”

“Ellen will never promote you, you know,” he smirks as you look up sharply. “I have known her quite some time and though she may be generous in many aspects, she doesn’t like to share praise.”

You frown, “that’s not –.”

“I can offer you the life you want,” he interrupts. “No more fruitless days spent dealing with haughty customers. Your art deserves to be seen.”

He holds your gaze with his dark eyes, his voice deep and unchallengeable. Your face heats with his flattery but it’s matched with an icy shiver down your spine.

“I – I think I should go,” you stammer.

He sighs, “I am afraid that is not an option.”

“But you said..”

“I am used to getting what I want… and what I want is for us to enjoy this evening together and for you to wake up next to me in the morning with a bright new future ahead of you.”

You gape at him, irritation bubbling into anger as you scoff and push out your chair, but you barely make it to your feet. The click of a safety makes you freeze and your chest tightens as he gently sets a pistol on the table, pointed threateningly in your direction.

“Sit down,” he orders softly and you lower yourself back onto your chair.

He purses his lips as he taps his finger on the handle, thinking. You quake, muscles tense as you try not to move, afraid to set him off.

“Zemo,” you quaver.

He fixes his attention back on you, his pinched brow and tight lips revealing his ire, “take off the coat.”

Your lip trembles and you glance at his finger slowly petting the trigger, with a shaky breath you shimmy out of your coat.

“Mmm. Beautiful, just as I pictured.”

Your eyes close as you fight to keep still, awaiting his next order. If you humor him maybe you’ll get out of here unscathed.

He tilts his head, “open your legs.”

You blanch, biting the inside of your lip as you grip the chair and slowly separate your knees.

“Show me,” he demands, raising his brow in warning when you look up at him in question.

You let out a breath and reach down to lift your dress, exposing your lace panties.

“Take them off.”

“Sir, please. Don’t make…,”

“You refuse my dinner, refuse my galant proposals, are you sure you want to refuse me on this?” He warns, his hand curling around the gun as he raises a brow.

You gulp and stand to wiggle out of your underwear before he has you move the chair around to sit beside him. You sit back down, your bare ass sticking to the hard surface as you resume your instructed position.

He takes another bite, chewing slowly as leans back to watch the show, “don’t be shy. Entertain me.”

“Wha? How?” you tremble, afraid to hear it out loud.

“Pleasure yourself,” he suggests casually, sipping his wine.

You shake your head and bite your lip as you close your eyes, the humiliation heating your cheeks and stinging your eyes. You just can’t get yourself to do it, your fingers clinging to the hem of your dress in resistance.

“You do it… or I will,” he threatens darkly and you swallow the dry lump in your throat.

You pry your hand off your dress and let it fall lazily into your lap, drifting reluctantly between your thighs. Your fingers dance over your sensitive skin, open and exposed to the cool air and his unwavering gaze. You hear his satisfied hums and low groans as he eats and watches you, but you close your eyes, trying to forget he’s there.

You fall into your usual rhythm, relying on muscle memory in place of desire. You rub gentle circles around your clit, trying not to hit anything that could make it look like you are enjoying this. But after several quiet moments the clatter of silverware has your eyes opening to see Zemo as he leans forward to get a closer look.

He tuts and catches your eye, “it is far worse than I thought. Not only do you lack direction, but passion as well.”

Your ministrations halt at his words and a tear finally escapes, rolling down your cheek as your lip trembles, “I just want to go home.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he growls and stands, looming over you.

You flinch at the sudden movement and he grips the back of your neck to keep you from escaping. With his free arm he swipes the table clean, the fine China falling to the ground with a sharp crash. He pulls you to your feet and bends you over the satin tablecloth as you shriek in surprise.

“No!” You cry as you try to push yourself up.

He holds you down with a hand on your back, his hips pinning yours as he uses his other to unclasp his belt buckle. The familiar whizz of leather through a belt loop has you struggling more until he collects your wrists and wraps them tightly together. You cry and plead for him to stop as he flips up your skirt and sighs at the sight of your ass.

“Oh, my beauty,” he groans, as he slowly opens his trousers and lets his hard cock rest between the cleft of your ass.

It’s warm and from the feel of it, much larger than you feared. He hums and lets it slide back and forth, admiring the sight of him framed by your round cheeks as he squeezes them and pushes them around himself.

“Had I known you’d be this perfect, I’d have stolen you away long ago,” he coos as his fingers dip down your slit and poke at your moistening entrance. “Perfect indeed,” he whispers as he pushes two fingers in, making you whimper.

“Please, stop,” you breathe as your eyes threaten to roll.

“I’m going to show you what you truly need,” he says huskily. “What is that expression… the tortured artist?” He jokes as he spreads his fingers, scissoring your walls until you cry out weakly.

Your body betrays you, arousal pooling around his fingers until he pulls them out slowly and uses your slick to coat his leaking tip. Your head drops to the table and you kick out your feet when you feel the smooth hot tip of his cock pushing into your dripping cunt.

“No,” you shake your head as he pushes in completely, stealing away your breath.

“Yes,” he hisses victoriously, savoring the way you clench around him.

You tug at your restraints, your shoulders aching as he begins to thrust in and out. His heavy breaths are punctuated with flowery speeches and praise. The man clearly loves the sound of his own voice, his vigor increasing as your squeaks turn to quiet moans and gasps of delight.

“Zemo,” you moan as he pushes you closer to the edge, intent on getting him to stop, but all it does is make him pound harder.

“Yes, say it again, I’m so close,” he grunts, squeezing your ass, using it to anchor himself to you.

“Zemo!” You squeak, your voice peaking as you reach your high. Waves of pleasure make your body tense until he finally comes with a broken moan and you slump bonelessly against the table.

“I think this may be my new favorite American holiday,” he chuckles as he pulls out and falls back into the chair behind you. He spreads open your cheeks and hums as he watches his seed leak from your swollen cunt, “but this is definitely my new favorite view.”

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.”

“anything, my love,” you replied, nuzzling into his touch, much like an affectionate cat to its owner. your response earned you an approving hum and a dark chuckle. gazing up at him with a puzzled look on your face, you asked, “what is it that you desire?”

helmut placed one gloved hand on the side of your neck, feeling the erratic thump of your pulse. he brought his mouth closer to your ear and whispered, “would you kill someone for me, my dove?” the slight hitch in your breath went undetected; a smirk painted his features and he had to marvel in the way your eyes widened at his unexpected question.

“would you be willing to snuff out a life to prove your love for me?” he questions, and with a twist of his wrist his hand takes root in your hair, yanking your head back; a harsh whine escapes your throat. he's looming over you, dark brown eyes piercing you into submission. even in this state, there was this irrational urge to please him — you were greedy for his approval, wanting to drown in his praise.

he noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor; your soft eyes steeled themselves and your lips curled up like a cheshire cat that caught the canary. as he released his hold on your locks, you challenged his gaze, unblinking eyes never daring to falter. with teeth bared, you snarled in response, “who shall it be, master?”