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There was no denying it. Madripoor had reawakened something in Bucky. Maybe it was his sense of justice. Or maybe it was just his thirst for revenge. Ever since those weeks with the baron, James falling into a new habit of carrying out vigilante missions. He did his research and went after Hydra. Not like anyone dared stop him. He would have loved for the government to try. It didn't matter anyway. They knew he was doing them a favor by doing their job for them. Every now and then, he got a lead and headed out to destroy the remnants of his former torturers. Hydra really had picked the perfect name. You could cut off a head, but another two sprung every time. Weaker, but still there.
This mission was like any other, and had led James far in the north of eastern Europe. It was freezing, snow coming down in thick flakes. But weather like this didn't affect him. James was as alert as ever.
The building that slowly came into view was gray and looked abandoned, like a relic of the second world war. The barbed wire fence surrounding the ground had collapsed in places, making it easy to simply step over. The back door was unlocked, croaking over the uneven ground, but fairly easy to push open with a vibranium arm. Inside, it looked even more abandoned, leaves covering most of the floor, the wallpaper on the walls peeling off from all the water damage. But down the hall, lights still flickered.
This type of facility was one James was familiar with. He recognized the signs on the doors, the white tiles. These wards were for experiments.
He took a steadying breath, trying to shake off memories that threatened to compromise the mission.
Good thing too, because it was in that instance that two figures in Hydra uniforms appeared down the hall.
They did a double take when they saw him, quickly fumbling to get their weapons from their belt. Before they'd even managed to pull out their guns, Bucky had shot them both dead.
They slumped to the ground before the shots had stopped echoing in the hall. He moved swiftly past them, the pooling blood mixing with the dirty tiled floor.
Alarms started wailing as he stepped down another hall, back to his en-guard position, firearm at the ready.
He had to move quicker now. He checked one room after the next. Files and folders were all empty, desks cleared out. He gulped as he glanced through an interior window that looked into an experiment room. It had a metal bed at its center, restraints hanging from its sides. Trays stood against the wall, covered in torture devices. The stuff in there looked as good as new, the silver instruments practically glistening in the tungsten light.
The sight of it all was suffocating. Bucky could almost feel the restraints around his wrists, his ankles, the feel of the cold metal beneath his back, the hopelessness, of writhing and screaming and fighting to no avail. He leaned against the wall to take a breather, forcing his fingers to stop shaking. He had to concentrate. Tightening his grip on his gun, he moved forward, passing one experiment room after the next. This part of the building was starting to really look well-maintained, in contrast to where he had entered from.
Then he heard commotion. His nerves settled from one moment to the next and he was back, focused and ready to attack. He shot his targets, the trembling long forgotten.
Maybe Zemo had been right, and something from the Winter Soldier was still in there.
When there was no more Hydra backup heading his way, he hurried on. He was just about to turn down another hallway when he saw a figure through a slight gap in the door to another experiment room.
James aimed, pushing open the door with the barrel of his rifle.
He lowered his aim slightly when he realized it was a man, strapped to one of the examination tables.
Dry blood was all over the floor, and splattered on devices on another one of those trays. James flinched when he recognized the cattle prod.
It was like he was looking into the past.
Anger and disgust swelled in him, but he kept his gun high as he slowly approached the table. He couldn't be too sure this wasn't a trap. His eyes darted across another tray, covered in vials. Injections.
He turned his attention to the prisoner. From the looks of his ripped and dirty clothes, and that disfigured face, all swollen cheeks and black eyes, he was probably dead. No surprise there.
James approached him cautiously and pressed his fingers to his neck. It was in that split second, as he gazed down at the tortured face, that he suddenly realized-
"Zemo?" he spluttered, heart dropping.
Fuck.
What?
What. The. Fuck.
A horrible chill ran down his spine as he threw the rifle strap over his shoulder to use both sweaty hands to desperately find a pulse.
Fuck.
He couldn't stop the shaking in his fingers this time as he prayed to find anything. Anything at all.
He forced deep breaths. That's when he finally found a weak pulse. "Thank fucking god." He ripped away the restraints with haste. Carefully, he picked Zemo up, settling him in a bridal carry with a pistol at the ready to shoot ahead in case of-
"Halt!"
James sighed. Speak of the devil. A Hydra agent had appeared at the door, pointing a gun at them. James didn't waste a second. With the weapon in his hand under Zemo's knees, James shot the man straight in the forehead. He didn't hesitate as he marched out of the room, stepping past the dead body. He strode with swift steps, making directly for the exit of the facility, killing anyone who got in his way, holding on to Zemo, trying to keep his movements smooth so as to not harm him further.
It was a hassle to settle him down on the backseats of the car, but he pulled off his jacket and used it to support the baron's head, laying him on his side before dashing into the driver's seat. He eased the car to a start before racing down the road, looking back at the bloodied body over and over again.
He's probably dead, a small voice in his head kept repeating. James had to fight with all his might to not give in to the impulse to stop the car every three seconds to check his pulse. To make sure he was still alive, however weakly.
But they had to clear the area first, get back to the safehouse he'd been staying at.
It was only after the initial shock and panic, Zemo's blood drying on his own hands, that lucidity slowly returned to him, questions bubbling up.
What the hell was Zemo doing here?
How badly was he wounded?
If he was chasing down Hydra too, why had he done it on his own?
Why wasn't he at the Raft?
Zemo was still unconscious when James got to his hideout, an apartment Sam had helped him find, though he was back in the US on Cap business. Bucky gently carried the baron into the building, making sure no one saw them. He locked the door behind them twice before placing Zemo onto his bed.
He took a deep breath, looking at the body, trying not to gag. He'd seen so much shit, but seeing it happen to someone he knew... someone who'd always been so composed? Someone who had felt a rock, a safe harbor?
"Fuck."
It was no wonder James hadn't recognized him at first. His face looked like dozens of bees had stung him, all bloody and bruised and swollen. He had two black eyes, and with the added swelling, there was no way he was going to be able to see.
James assessed the rest of his body, trying to push away emotions, trying to keep himself steady and stoic. He wasn't going to be able to help the baron if he broke down now. So James carefully ripped open the rest of his shirt. The baron's neck bore a dark blue line where he must have been strangled, his arms had burn marks, and the skin of his wrists were red and cut from the restraints. His stomach was bruised too.
James took a moment to breathe.
Then he got to work.
He peeled off the rest of the dirty clothes, trying not to flinch at the stench of semi-dried blood. He washed the skin, disinfected each wound, rubbed in ointments and wrapped bandages around them. When he'd run out of medical supplies from his medic kit, he made sure Zemo was arranged comfortably, checking for the hundredth time if he was still breathing, and left.
It was with a heavy heart that James cleaned himself up to drive to the nearest hospital. There, he stealthily made his way through the back entrance with cap and mask to steal more medical equipment.
He could barely hold back his trembling when he re-entered the room, prepared to find Zemo's cold corpse sprawled out on his bed. James slowly knelt down at his side, placed the bags full of supplies on the floor, and pressed his fingers to his forearm, between two burn marks. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he felt a light pulse.
So he continued where he left off, tending to the rest of the smaller wounds, covering the cuts, injecting him with fluids and painkillers.
When he was done, he gently pulled Zemo up, making sure to hold his head steady, and slipped him into a hospital gown.
At last, he had done everything he could think of. James sighed in exhaustion and sat down on the floor next to the bed, watching him, taking his pulse every few minutes until he dozed off, hand still on Zemo's arm.
James woke with a start. His head had been leaning on the side of the bed, his arm outstretched next to the baron's. He looked up, noticing the baron stir.
"Zemo?" he whispered.
It was dark out, so he turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a warm glow.
"Zemo, can you hear me?" he asked as he leaned in closer.
The baron let out a croaky whine and shook his head. James couldn't even see the slits of his eyes.
"It's okay, it's me," James told him, gently holding his hand.
But Zemo quickly yanked his arm away, whimpering as he kept shaking his head. He started squirming in earnest, trying to roll away, though his bruised and weak body was not complying, still groggy from the painkillers.
"Stay still, you're gonna hurt yourself."
Zemo completely ignored him, trying to get away with all his might, managing to roll on his side, away from James, before shuffling blindly over to the other side of the bed. Zemo clearly couldn't see and had no idea where he was, or who he was with. He continued to struggle to crawl away, his arms shaking from the effort of heaving his weight. But he didn't give up, even when James carefully held on to his upper arm and easily brought him back to the center of the bed.
That's when he really started struggling. Zemo fought against his grasp, whimpering and crying out in cut-off sounds. He seemed truly awake now, hyperventilating, thrashing against him as James tried to hold him still. He knew the fear all too well, but he couldn't let him go. If Zemo thrashed around and scrabbled away erratic as he was, he was definitely going to hurt himself more. James prayed Zemo hadn't fought Hydra like this, because he knew better than anyone else that fighting only made the punishment worse.
"Zemo, you're safe," he said. He had tried to sound stern, but his voice cracked instead. It was a lot... seeing him like this.
The baron ignored him, wrestling on with throaty cries.
"Zemo, it's me. It's James. Bucky. You remember your Bucky?"
Zemo shook his head, turning away, trying to get out of his grasp but unable to. That didn't stop him from squirming endlessly.
"You need to calm down. Can you do that for me? I'm not going to hurt you."
The baron whined with a broken sob, continuously shaking his head.
"Give me a second, I'll get you something for the pain, okay?"
James quickly rummaged in the night stand, ignoring his own shaking, and pulled out the sedative.
Zemo had almost made it to the other side of the bed when James pulled him back. Zemo continued to fight in earnest, trying to get away, flailing, swatting his arms at him, missing half the time.
"I know you're scared, but I'm going to take care of you, okay?"
James clenched his jaw as he grabbed Zemo's threshing arm and pushed the sharp needle of the syringe into his skin. The baron yelped in surprise and then immediately started to break out in sobs, still shaking his head. He sounded like he was pleading now, crying something with high pitched whines as he jerked around. But between his damaged jaw, and his clearly damaged vocal cords, his mumbles were indecipherable.
"It's okay," James whispered, cupping the side of his head in reassurance as his other hand still held his arm.
The way the baron jerked away from his touch made Bucky's heart drop. He remembered all too well what it was like, being in Zemo's place, tortured and experimented on. Who knew what Hydra had injected him with already. There were serums that brought out your worst fears and memories, none you could escape from. It could drive a person insane.
After a few moments, Zemo's breathing deepened and he ceased thrashing. He was only mildly squirming, his crying now spasmodic whimpers.
James carefully brought his fingers back to the side of his head. Zemo twitched again, his breathing accelerating. James found himself caressing him, soothingly running his fingers through his hair, careful to avoid a cut on his cheek. Then his breathing slowed again. "Better?"
Zemo nodded lazily, the drugs kicking in. James hated seeing him like this, vulnerable and hurt. But it was still miles better than seeing him fight him like that.
"I'm sorry they did this to you."
Tears sprung from eyes James couldn't even see. He only felt the warmth of them as they rolled down the sides of his face.
"I'll take care of you now, okay? I won't let them take you again."
Zemo went back to shaking his head, but the movement was so weak that it was barely visible.
"I'm going to check your wounds, make sure they're healing."
James slowly clipped open the hospital gown and started pulling it away. That seemed to bring Zemo back to himself. He weakly renewed his efforts at pushing his arm in James' general direction to get him away, still whimpering and shaking his head.
Bucky waited for a few more moments, barely holding his own tears back as he gazed down at the confused baron. Then sedative took a hold of him again. He watched the baron's movements slow, his arms lowering before they rested at his sides.
James went to work again. He washed his wounds, applying new ointment and band-aids where needed. Zemo flinched and twitched every now and then, but sedated as he was, he didn't have the force to fight him anymore.
At some point, he stopped moving altogether. Jame had no idea if the baron was awake, or if he had fallen back asleep. He finished tending to his cuts and covered him again. Before he left, he took his pulse one last time.
Still alive.
The routine was pretty set throughout the days. Every few hours, James checked up on Zemo and his injuries. And every time, when the sedatives had worn off, Zemo fought James with full energy, yelping with raspy cries that only made his damaged throat worse.
It was too much. At times, after bad check-ups, where the baron really struggled, Bucky found himself sobbing quietly in the room next door, sliding down onto the cold floor. James kept trying to reassure Zemo that it was just him: James, that he was just trying to help. But Zemo didn't care. Zemo hated him. Zemo wanted him to stop, begged with his animalistic cries. But James couldn't stop. He couldn't give up on him. He kept administering painkillers, kept checking up on the wounds, kept him feeding him. He had to help. At the very least, James held on to the fact that progress was starting to show. The swelling was coming down ever so slowly, the bruises were changing colors, like leaves in autumn.
It was on the third day that Zemo finally stopped thrashing, letting James tend to his wounds with only the occasional weak moan. He twitched when James spread ointment on the sensitive skin. "Sorry," James whispered.
When he was done, James ran fingers over his forearm in reassurance. He slowly stood to leave. That was when Zemo fumbled to grab his hand.
James quickly came to his side, eyes scanning his bruised face, searching for any signs of discomfort. "You okay? You need anything?"
The hand tugged him closer.
"You want me to stay?"
Zemo nodded.
For the first time, Zemo didn't fight his touch, but actually wanted him to stay.
James carefully crept up on the empty side of the bed, laying down next to him. Zemo tilted his head, following the dip in the mattress.
"Can you see?" Bucky asked quietly. He wasn't sure the baron was lucid enough to understand him.
The baron shook his head. James hoped it was because he did understand him.
"Here," James gently brought Zemo's trembling hand to his face. "It's me, see?"
He guided Zemo's fingers to run over his cheeks, his stubble. Tentatively, the baron traced the skin all on his own. A thumb traced his lower lip. James thought he noticed Zemo inhale sharply, before mouthing his name, eyebrows twitching, like he'd realized something.
"You recognize me by the shape of my lips?" James asked quietly, unable to stop himself from smiling faintly. He didn't know why emotions were threatening to crash through so suddenly, out of the blue.
Zemo traced his smile and the baron's own lips twitched up. New tears rolled down the sides of his face. James found warmth roll down his own skin too.
The fingers moved up and found the tears. The hand moved back to caress through his hair, fingers curling around the strands, as if to gauge their length.
"I let them grow out," James explained quietly.
Zemo let out a little high-pitched sound.
Then his fingers tentatively ran down his shoulder and along his vibranium arm.
"See? It's James. Bucky."
Fresh tears ran down the bruised slits. Zemo huddled closer until his forehead pressed against Bucky's chest. That was where he began to sob. James froze for a split second before wrapping his hands around the baron, soothing him with gentle caresses down his back, careful to avoid the scars.
"It's okay. You're safe with me now."
Once Zemo had cried himself out, his breathing slowed. James carefully traced through his hair, trying to soothe him. Zemo's breaths deepened further. James was sure he'd fallen asleep, but he kept brushing his fingers through those strands anyway.
"You need to eat."
Zemo whined in annoyance as James helped him sit up, propping up his back with pillows. His body was still weak, from the wounds and all the sedatives, but he had healed well regardless over the past few days.
"I made soup. It'll help your sore throat too." James sat down next to him. He carefully pressed the straw to his lips.
Begrudgingly, Zemo opened his mouth just the slightest amount. His lips were cracked and dry. James could tell his jaw was in pain, so he was careful to not force his mouth open too much when he helped adjust the straw.
"Stop if it's too hot, or if I need to reheat it, okay?"
Zemo nodded as he started drinking, but slowly.
Every gulp made Zemo shudder. James could almost feel the pain just looking at him. The thick line across his throat still had purple spots, but most of the bruise was brownish-green. It was healing, but only slowly.
James frowned as he watched Zemo's hand grasp the air before finding his arm, holding him tight. His breathing hitched as the baron held on to him, forcing himself through the pain.
When the soup was finally down, Zemo let him go. James placed the bowl away and helped him lay back.
"How's the vision?" James could barely make out the reflection in one of his eyes through all the swelling.
Zemo shook his head.
James gently brushed his finger along his arm. "Can you talk?"
Zemo's mouth opened, barely. All he managed was a painful croak.
"Until you recover, we gotta find a way to communicate."
Zemo's arm flailed about. At first, James had a horrible feeling that Zemo had gone back to hitting him away, but then his hand found his own again, and his fingers quickly wrapped around his wrist. That was when the baron started tapping his finger against his skin. Some taps longer, some faster.
"Morse code," James muttered, looking down at his finger as he tapped away. "Y… E… S. Okay. Yes, we can do that." Zemo suddenly squeezed his wrist, then he quickly tapped again. "T... H... A-" James quickly covered Zemo's hand with his own, stopping him. "Zemo. No." James gulped away the tears that threatened to erupt. "Save it."
Zemo started shaking his head, putting pressure against his wrist in pulses. T-H-
"Zemo. You need to rest, okay? We'll talk later. You want something to calm you down?"
N-O
"Okay."
S-T-A-Y-?
James took a deep breath. "Yes, I'll stay."
James woke up with Zemo's arm sprawled out across from him, his chest heaving deep breaths against his own. He gazed at the baron, as his skin, slowly recovering, regenerating. His gaze found it's way to his cheek, where James had tended to a deep cut just a few days ago. He traced his hand over the healed skin.
Zemo stirred, hand searching for his wrist before squeezing it. His way of saying thank you before James could stop him.
James ran his fingers through his hair. "It's okay, Zemo."
When Zemo opened his eyes, James could almost distinguish his pupils. He thought he could see them focus on him.
"Has your vision gotten better?"
Zemo nodded before he started tapping.
U, R, P-R-E-T-T-Y,
"Zemo," James warned, though Zemo continued.
O-N-E, N-O-W
"Zemo." James continued to brush through his hair. "The swelling's going down, the bruises and cuts are healing. It won't be long until you're back to your old handsome self, alright?" Zemo quickly squeezed his wrist again. "You thanking me for the compliment?"
Zemo glanced between his eyes before shuffling closer.
"What are you-" Zemo suddenly pressed his lips against his cheek. The kiss was quick and fast, more brush against skin than anything else. Maybe an accident. Maybe Zemo hadn't meant to shuffle that close, not with how little he could probably see. Zemo's hand squeezed his wrist again. Bucky gazed into those eyes, barely visible, yet still darting around in fear.
M-A-D-?
"No," James whispered, fingers trembling through that hair. So it hadn't been an accident after all. Shivers ran up his spine. "Why would I be?"
Zemo's hand squeezed him again, a rogue tear dropping onto the pillow.
Then Zemo drew closer again, until their noses touched. James didn't dare move, breathing hitching.
They tilted closer at the same time, lips pressing together now. At first, James kissed him back, unable to stop himself from giving in to that deep desire. But then he pulled away, brought back to his senses. "I don't-"
Zemo's eyes darted between his. S-O-R-
"Zemo stop," James whispered. "I just…"
P-L-E-
James kissed him quickly this time. Anything to shut him up. James didn't know what he was doing. He wanted this, but… in Zemo's state.
Pull away, he told himself as he leaned closer, hand pressing his head closer. Pull away. As he dove his tongue into that mouth. Zemo let out a high pitched squeak.
"You okay?" James asked suddenly, jerking back. What the fuck had he just done?
Zemo's mouth hung open, his eyes glazed over as he groaned.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… you're hurt and so high on painkillers that you're probably delusional."
W-A-N-T
Zemo pressed his forehead to his, before softly kissing him again. James didn't know what was wrong with him. Why he was giving in to this. It wasn't right. In Zemo's state…
S-T-A-Y, Zemo tapped as they continued making out.
Don't do it, James tried to tell himself. But he couldn't move away. His whole world had reduced to this, between them. He couldn't escape it.
"Okay."
"I got you something," James said as he came back from running errands. It still felt daunting, leaving Zemo on his own, but James was pretty sure he wasn't going to die on him at this point. His swelling had receded so much that the baron could finally see properly again.
James pulled out the little notepad and pen, all cocky about it. "So you can talk to me."
He helped Zemo up against the pillows and the baron carefully took them, his hands trembling as he tried to write.
"How found me?" he scribbled, before eyeing him.
"I was going after Hydra. Which I assume you were doing as well."
Zemo nodded slowly.
"Why weren't you at the Raft?" James asked.
Zemo glanced at him before jotting down, "parole."
"They offered you parole?"
"Conditional," he added.
"On you going on missions?"
Zemo nodded.
James grabbed his wrist. "They had you go out there on your own? Fuck that."
"Thought…" he started to write, before glancing at James. Bucky could tell tears were starting to well up in his eyes. Zemo sniffed before he continued. "Thought I'd be fine." Zemo sniffed again before adding, "was wrong."
James pulled him in to hold him, notepad forgotten on his lap. James pressed him to his chest while he cried. Zemo's arms wrapped around him, much stronger now.
"I got you now, it's okay. I won't let them take you again. Not Hydra, not the CIA, not the FBI, not the Wakandans. Never again, okay? No matter what." James pulled him back to wipe the tears from his cheeks, careful with the swollen skin. "They'll have to get through me first."
Zemo choked again before scrambling to pick up the pen and pad, scribbling down one word: "Why?"
James glanced back at him. "Because I've been through what you have, and I'm not going to let you go through any of that again."
Zemo tapped the pad again.
"I care about you, Zemo. I don't want to see you hurt."
Zemo opened his mouth, croaking something.
James shook his head. "Don't do that. Don't force it."
"Ja- ames," he managed, before gulping. He grabbed his arms and held on to them tight. "Tha- tha-"
"No, shut up. You're hurting yourself."
"Thank-" Zemo coughed before trying again.
James grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in to kiss him hard. Zemo froze before he melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck, one leg desperately trying to hook around his waist. Desperately trying to pull him onto the bed.
James let him, but then he pulled away. "Zemo…"
Zemo paused, looking up at him with a shy frown. He quickly grabbed the notebook and jotted something down before showing it to him: "I want you."
James shook his head with a smile. "I know. I want you too."
The baron looked up at him, grasping at him, trying to pull him down on top of him. But James struggled out his grasp and sat back instead, running a hand through his own hair.
Zemo's frown deepened as he slowly sat up next to him. He scribbled, "what's wrong?"
"It's, um…" James ran his fingers through his hair again, nervous. "Hydra… They injected you with stuff, right?"
Zemo flinched.
"I'm sorry. I know. I saw your reaction when I first gave you sedatives." James held his wrist in reassurance. "I just… I needed to tell you first, before we… I wanted to wait until you were stronger..." He took a deep breath, seeing Zemo's confused face staring at him. "When I got you out of there, I was sure you were dead. And you basically were. But you recovered. Pretty quick. And… there was a cut, on your cheek..." Zemo lifted his hand to said cheek, "and… um… it's gone now. And, uh... I saw vials, on that tray in that room... Vials I recognized..."
Zemo's face whitened, his expression changing from confused to horrified, like the whole world was crashing down on him.
"I am so, so sorry, Zemo. They gave you the super soldier serum too."
Zemo's cry of anguish was so loud it shook the walls.