Chapter Text
Something is off . Bucky avoids your eyes as he emerges from Zemo’s cell and stalks down the prison corridor with an energetic stride. You and Sam exchange a curious glance before following close behind. “So?” Sam prods impatiently. Not here , you mouth, shaking your head in disapproval- partially over concern of having this conversation in public- but mostly because you want to give Bucky time to level his head. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier aren’t the most compatible comrades to begin with, and something tells you Bucky might be even less agreeable than usual after coming face to face with a piece of his traumatic past.
Helmut Zemo . You’d never encountered the man personally, but you’d read up on him in great detail when his prison sentence was made public. And you’d heard enough from your friends to feel like you know him and the effect his presence might have on Bucky in particular.
The three of you walk in silence until reaching the administration atrium. The security guard on staff nods, recognizing you as guests and punches in the code to open the door. A loud buzz makes your presence known to nearby staff as the industrial passage swings open for you to pass through.
Sam takes it upon himself to sign out with the visitation clerk, leaving you and James standing off to one side of the moderately-sized room. Bucky paces a bit before leaning back against the wall with a stoic expression that you can’t quite place- and you pride yourself on being able to gauge his moods better than most.
“You okay?” you ask in a casual whisper- placing a gentle hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Physical touch often helps ground him in the moment when he’s spiraling. But that isn’t what’s happening now.
“I’m fine,” he assures you. And you're inclined to believe him based on the even tone of his voice alone. However Bucky still refuses to meet your eyes, confirming your suspicions that something is off.
The car ride isn’t nearly as long as it feels. Bucky shoots Sam down every time he tries to discuss what happened with Zemo, and as usual, you’re forced to mediate their incessant banter.
“Can you at least tell us where in the hell we’re going?” Sam asks, growing increasingly frustrated.
Bucky grips the steering wheel tighter, and you can hear the leather of his gloves stretch as he tenses up. “Somewhere secure. I’ll tell you when we get there,” he answers vaguely.
Sam shakes his head in exasperation and glances back at you from the front seat. “Wanna tell me again why you’re friends with this intolerable bionic man?”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Bucky is perfectly tolerable if you know how to deal with him.”
“See?” James punctuates amusedly as he drives. "It's not me, it's you."
Sam just eyes the super soldier beside him incredulously. “Yeah, whatever man. If you ask me, Y/N deserves some kind of award for being able to put up with your shit.”
You glance up and coincidentally meet Bucky’s eyes in the rear view mirror, offering him a soft, reaffirming smile. He nods slightly in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the road.
It’s not long after that you pull into the winding driveway of what appears to be a large private residence. Bucky types in a code at the gate and enters without pause. What in the world are we doing here? you wonder, climbing out of the car with an anxious feeling stirring in your gut. The place looks utterly uninhabited, and yet the grounds are eerily well-manicured.
“Bucky… what’s going on?” you ask, unable to hide your concern any longer. “Are you sure this place is secure?”
“Pretty sure,” he exhales, wiping a thin veil of perspiration from his upper lip. He’s playing it remarkably cool, all things considered.
“Well you’d better start talking,” Sam encourages plainly as the three of you climb out of the car.
The tension in the air grows with each passing second. Motioning for you to follow, Bucky guides the two of you towards some kind of detached garage. “Zemo has a lead,” he finally admits.
Sam seems genuinely surprised. Relief washes over you momentarily. That’s good. The mission was a success then, right? Given Bucky’s manner however, you sense a major caveat of some kind.
“Is that why we’re at this spooky ass house?” Sam queries optimistically. “Is this our lead?”
“Not exactly.” As you approach the side entrance, Bucky punches through the door with his left arm, reaches down and unlocks it from the inside. Clearly he’s been made aware of the ins and outs of the resident security system, or else why not just kick the whole thing down?
“Zemo has a contact who keeps tabs on this sort of thing,” Bucky continues, brushing debris off the arm of his jacket. “Only problem is… they’re untouchable. We can’t get to them without him .”
“So that’s it? It’s a dead end?” you ask disappointedly.
Bucky glances at you sideways as he flips on his flashlight. It’s the first time he’s willingly looked at you since leaving the prison and there’s a glint in his eye that was absent earlier. “Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugs calmly. “Unless… we break him out.” And with that, he turns and disappears into the darkened garage, leaving you and Sam in a stunned silence.
What? Surely he can’t be serious! Yet you can tell from the mysterious edge to his voice and the energized bounce in his step that Bucky is dead serious. What you still don’t know is why he brought you here.
Sam nearly chokes as he tries to form words. “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. What are you talking about- you wanna break Zemo out of jail? Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?!”
Bucky finds the circuit breaker and flips on the lights as he attempts to explain himself. An impossible task, you think, knowing Sam will hold his ground- and rightly so. At least someone in the group hasn’t completely lost their mind.
The garage smells distinctly of steel and oil, and even with the electricity on, the space is dimly bathed in a rather ominous green hue. You glance around, wondering how recently it’s been occupied. As you analyze your surroundings, Bucky’s voice seemingly fades into the background.
“Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”
There’s something strange about this place, and some primal instinct in the recesses of your mind refuses to let it go. Your own pulse gains volume, ringing in your ears. Focus!
From the exterior architecture alone, you know that the garage extends far beyond the modest room you’re all currently standing in. Walking the perimeter, you peer through the first door you come upon. It’s a small office of some sort. A bit disheveled- as if someone had hastily searched through the contents of the desk. You glance over your shoulder. Sam and Bucky are still talking. Something about the ratio of guards to prisoners. Jesus- they can’t actually be considering this, can they?!
Slipping inside the adjacent room, you quickly rifle through the flurry of jumbled files that had been so carelessly left sitting out. A handful of them are in Russian and appear to be redacted copies of classified documents. Not good .
Hating that your instincts had been correct, you start to exit the room when you catch sight of an interior window offering up a view into the rest of the building. It’s dark, but you can just barely make out the silhouettes of nearly a dozen old cars. Pristine, classic models parked in rows more akin to that of a museum exhibit than a private collection. You swallow thickly as memories of your thorough research come bubbling to the surface.
Zemo collected old cars. Zemo spoke Russian. He also had a private estate just outside Berlin.
Shit.
You fly out of the office in shock and confusion. “James Barnes, what the hell-?!”
It’s too late. The soft echo of footsteps interrupts your frantic train of thought and Sam follows your horrified gaze toward an approaching shadow. Your stomach knots as the Falcon takes the next precious few seconds to put all the pieces together.
“Woah- what are you doing here?!” he finally shouts when realization hits. Helmut Zemo materializes in the flesh- wearing the familiar uniform of a prison guard- and Bucky has to hold Sam back from physically attacking the newcomer.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let this happen!”
Oh my god, Bucky. Oh my god. What have you done!? Lightheaded, you run a hand over your forehead as you contemplate being implicated in the escape of one of the most dangerous men in the world. This is not going to be a good look on the three of you.
“What’d you do?”
“We need him, Sam.”
“You’re going back to prison!”
“If I may-” Zemo tries to interrupt. But he’s promptly put in his place by both men aggressively shouting “NO!”
The man’s eyes then flicker to where you’re standing quietly in the background and it suddenly feels as if your feet are bolted to the floor- unable to move under the weight of his gaze. You expect his presence to be aggressive or maniacal somehow. Instead, Zemo just seems remarkably level-headed, which is all the more terrifying.