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"What'd we miss?"
Broken glass dotted the floor like patches of ice, and blue liquid seeped into the concrete. The serum? Walker stood over Zemo, who lay sprawled on the floor like a broken doll, eyes closed and not moving. Sam tried to make sense of it, but the whole tableau felt like one of those "What's wrong with this picture" puzzles, except everything was wrong.
"This asshole --" Walker punctuated his explanation with a kick to Zemo's ribs -- "compromised the mission." Sam noticed that Hoskins looked slightly unnerved. Zemo stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes.
Sam and Bucky both tensed, and moved down the stairs slowly towards Walker. "He may be an asshole, but he's our asshole," said Sam. "Lay off him."
Walker looked incensed. "He's an international terrorist," he protested. "He blew up the goddamn UN! Let Karli get away! For all we know, he's working for her!"
"Not very Captain America of you to kick a man while he's down," said Bucky.
Sam shot Bucky a look: don't escalate.
Walker's face hardened. "What would you know?"
Bucky shifted his weight and his right eye twitched. Only Sam was close and aware enough to notice it. His vibranium fist clenched. He stared Walker down, daring him to step forward, to take a swing.
"John, come on--" Hoskins chimed in.
Screw it, this ends now. Sam darted between them, his hands outstretched to separate them. "Enough," he commanded. "Every minute we waste arguing widens Karli's lead and makes the situation more fucked than it already is. Back the hell off."
At this, Bucky visibly relaxed and stepped back. Walker stood with his feet planted, staring daggers at Bucky.
Sam glanced down at Zemo, who stirred again. "He comes with us," he said to Walker.
"Why?" Walker practically snarled.
"Unless you want to deal with him when he's conscious," Bucky said.
Walker paused to consider. His eyes darted to Hoskins, who shook his head. He huffed unsubtly and stepped back. "We're not finished here," he said.
Bucky hauled Zemo up.
"I think we are," said Sam testily.
Bucky half-carried-half-dragged Zemo through the streets of Riga, darting through back streets to avoid curious eyes. "How ya holding up, Zemo?" Bucky asked a little too cheerily as they reached the door of the safehouse at last.
"[What the fuck? Fuck a dead dog, my head hurts]," Zemo muttered.
"What was that?" Sam asked.
"He's speaking Sokovian," Bucky sighed.
"What'd he say?"
Bucky tilted his head and put some rasp in his voice. "Thank you, James and Samuel, for saving my dumb terrorist ass on multiple occasions. I think you are both very smart and handsome."
Zemo stirred against Bucky's shoulder. "[Your looks are proof alone that I didn't fuck your mother]," he slurred out.
Bucky "translated" once more. "And my coat is ridiculous."
Zemo was suddenly much more alert. "You...take...that back," he said in halting English.
"Well, look who's back to GCS 15," said Sam, ushering him in over the threshold.
Bucky deposited Zemo on one of the overstuffed couches. Sam lightly slapped Zemo's right cheek. "Eyes stay open," he said. "I have all kinds of nasty ways to make sure you respond to stimuli."
"Just turn the fucking light off," muttered Zemo, his arm flopped over his eyes.
"That would be the sun," Bucky chimed in from the kitchen island.
Sam peeled Zemo's arm from his face, ignored his slightly unfocused death glare, and brushed blood-matted hair away from his forehead to get a better look at the point of impact: a nasty cut (that looked worse than it really was) above his eyebrow surrounded by a pretty magnificent purple bruise. "Gotta admit, I admire that you still have enough brain function to be, well, you, after taking Cap's shield directly to the face," he said.
Zemo tried to hide his wince with yet more death glare.
"You should try to drink something if you can keep it down," continued Sam. "What do you want?"
"Yoichi Single Malt," Zemo murmured, squinting at the small flashlight Sam shone in his eyes to check pupil response.
"More along the lines of water," admonished Sam.
"On the rocks, then."
Sam sighed and plodded to the kitchen island. Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, whispered "good luck", and headed to the bedroom.
Dammit.
Sam placed a half-filled glass on Zemo's chest. Zemo quickly put his hands around it. Good, that meant his motor skills were still intact. "Here you go," Sam said.
"Sweet of you, Sam," said Zemo, taking a tentative sip and then sputtering. "This is the wors---this...isn't whisky."
"Yeah, barrel-aged single malt iced tea," said Sam. "Not letting you kill off your last three brain cells. Besides, Japanese whisky? Really?"
"Sokovia was...omitted from the treaty which ended the Russo-Japanese War," said Zemo to the ceiling. Sam wondered where the hell this was going. "Technically, we were at war with Japan for nearly a century. When our respective governments at last settled their differences without a drop of blood spilt, my father was gifted a few bottles of the finest Japanese single malt as a token of our nations' friendship rising from the ashes of a forgotten and ultimately unnecessary conflict."
"Is there supposed to be a metaphor in there or is this just the concussion talking?" asked Sam.
"You asked why I was fond of Japanese whisky," said Zemo.
"No, I was judging you for being fond of it," said Sam. "Big difference."
Zemo started to wriggle himself up to sitting; without really thinking about it, Sam put a hand between Zemo's shoulderblades to help him up. Zemo closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through a wave of dizziness.
"I assume you're keeping me alive for the Dora Milaje," said Zemo, taking a sip of iced tea.
Sam glanced out the stained glass window, seeing only a distorted street scene filtered through blue and red. "They should be here soon," he said. "But for what it's worth, I wouldn't be much of a pararescue if I let you die."
Zemo let out a noncommittal "hmm" and started to sink back down. Sam took the iced tea and, with a gentleness he could easily write off as just bedside manner, pushed Zemo back down with his free hand.
For a few seconds, they stayed like that. Sam wracked his brain for a way to break the silence, maybe ask about the broken glass and blue liquid Zemo was lying in back at the warehouse, but Zemo broke it for him.
"The Yoichi should be in the lower rightmost cabinet," said Zemo, nodding his head towards the liquor cabinet. "Try it. It may surprise you."