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No answer. Again.
Bucky gritted his teeth and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He’d called at least a dozen times now, to no avail. It either didn’t go through at all, or he was met with the punishing sound of the dial tone.
«Hey,» Yelena said, nudging him with her elbow. They were just about to get into the van and set this… well, not plan , exactly, into motion. «Why so nervous?»
He took an unsteady breath. «My spouse is in the city for a work thing.» Very non-specific descriptor for the kind of espionage Zemo got hired for, but he digressed. «Won’t pick up the damn phone.»
Dial tone. Bucky hissed through his teeth and shoved the stupid device back in his pocket. Where the fuck was that idiot? In a bunker underground with no service?
Or , Bucky thought, with considerable venom, he had left it behind again and only brought his burner.
«Spouse? You?» Walker cut in with a disbelieving frown. «Since when were you married?»
Bucky gave him a dry look. «A couple years.»
Walker looked like he wasn’t done with this interrogation, but Yelena cut him off with a kick to the shin. «It will be fine.» She didn’t look any more convinced than Bucky felt as she said it, but only shrugged at his skepticism. «You can find them after.»
🌙
Bucky screwed his eyes shut as white lightning shot toward him, his entire body tensing in anticipation of the blinding agony, but it never came.
He blinked, his senses rapidly adjusting to the dim quiet of this new room. It looked like a military office, with a neat desk, bookshelves lining the walls, and a flag he didn’t immediately recognize crumpled up on the floor. It looked like it’d been torn down.
It was clear that somehow, at some point, Bucky had turned and ran. He had no idea where to. Nothing about this was familiar, so–
A quivering breath alerted him to the second presence in the room. Bucky whipped around braced for another fight, but…
It was Zemo. No older than 25, but it was undeniably Zemo.
And he was crying.
Bucky was frozen to the floor. In his head howled a chorus of desperation to find out what was causing this. Zemo never cried, and this statuesque display was terrifying down to the core. Here he was, adorned in a perfectly pressed uniform that failed to hide the bruises creeping up his neck, staring blankly into space while tears leaked into his shirt collar.
The rules of this place escaped Bucky. He had no idea where he was or whether that was his Zemo, trapped here, or some figment of his own subconscious. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t just stand there.
Taking a step forward yielded no reaction. «What happened to you?» he asked, softly. Look at me. Talk to me. Please, remember me.
Zemo did nothing for long enough that Bucky almost prompted him again, but then he sniffled. «I don’t know.»
The youthfulness of his voice contrasted with the weight of the despair hanging off of every syllable hit Bucky like a grenade. His accent was thicker too, his grasp on English not yet as secure as it would come to be.
It was all just too much. «Don’t you?» he prodded, taking another step closer. Zemo tilted his head up to keep looking him in the eye, and the light fell over his pale, drawn face. As familiar as the day he’d met him, and yet completely different all the same. There was something naive in him that was so freshly broken, Bucky could still put the pieces of it back together.
«It was not human,» Zemo whispered. «We were powerless.»
The room trembled as faint shots sounded from beyond the clouded windows. Cries from dying men punctuated silhouettes that lit up from the flashes of gunfire, and between them, a figure was moving. Caught on the edges of shadow like a ghost, appearing between one man and the next to snuff his life out.
A cold hand gripped his wrist, and Bucky turned to find a pleading look boring into him. Behind his left shoulder, crumpled on the desk, lay a sheet of paper written in Sokovian. Bucky was just fluent enough to understand the headline. Notify Families of the Deceased.
Zemo guessed what he saw. «How?» he asked, just as the scream of a grieving mother made the bookshelves rattle. The room was starting to come apart at the seams, with floorboards cracking and lamps flickering violently. Zemo wasn’t crying anymore, his eyes raw and dry with nothing but anger left to fester.
This was more like the Zemo he knew. Bucky recognized where permanent frown lines would eventually be etched into his skin, he saw how his tear ducts were being cauterized by his rage. That little spark of innocence in his eyes was fighting a losing battle. It would be another 12 years before it was gone completely.
«I couldn’t tell you, darling,» Bucky said. Zemo shook his head.
«You can,» he insisted. There was a paradoxical mania to the calm of his voice. «I failed them because I couldn’t foresee you .»
Bucky’s lips parted without any words taking shape. He looked back to the window again just as the shadow flitted away from a crumpling body, and he understood. The floor tilted beneath his feet and it took everything in him not to stagger.
«You are unnatural,» Zemo whispered, his nails digging in hard enough to sink beneath the skin. «What violent ambition is it that carved you?»
Shame branded him like a hot iron, sizzling and relentless until it sunk all the way into his muscle. Was this how they’d crossed paths all those years ago? Was this real, had Bucky been in this room and blacked it all out? He couldn’t even remember being stationed in Sokovia, he had no idea which squad this was or what the mission objective had been.
He looked back into resentful brown eyes that were as beautiful as the first time he’d seen them, sitting across a table dressed up in fake credentials. Bucky tried to find his voice, but it broke. He had to look down at his shoes like a little boy.
«I didn’t have a choice.» The room warped with Zemo’s mounting agony. Bucky shrunk in on himself even further. «But it was still me. I did it.»
A long moment of silence passed, before boots stepping on hardwood made Bucky flinch, «Look at me,» Zemo demanded, quietly.
Bucky knew he wasn’t brave enough, but he forced himself to do it anyway. He found Zemo studying him, his head tilted and his eyes hard as stone. Tremors were seizing his arms from wrist to elbow, and Bucky watched his throat flex and bob with his burdened swallowing. «Are you real?» he asked. «Or are you a vision like the rest of them?»
Like the rest…? Bucky wanted to ask, but a crash from behind them spurred him into action instead. He threw Zemo up against the wall and shielded him from the books and furniture torpedoing across the room. They collided hard with his back and arms, painting bruises that glowed through his clothes, replacing the shattered lamps as the only source of light.
Zemo was staring up at him in bewilderment. «Do I know you?»
Bucky’s smile felt more like an apology. «Not yet.»
The room settled, just a little. «You call me darling. Are we happy?»
He wished he could lay it all out, stay here forever until this young face stopped looking so worn, but it was like he’d said – Not now. There was nothing he could do to save Zemo from this fate. Bob and Yelena were waiting for him, he had too many people relying on him, and– God, he didn’t know where his husband was. He had no idea what room he was in right now, alone, with no one to help him.
«Yeah,» he said, unsteady with tears. «We made it.»
Skepticism, and not an insignificant amount of revulsion, colored Zemo’s expression. «After all this?»
Bucky nodded. «And more.»
«Oh.» Zemo looked into the middle distance. At length, he continued, «But not yet,»
«No, Zee.»
A mournful hush blanketed the room. Zemo’s hands fell still at his sides, leaving the furniture to hover mid-air like the world had been put on pause. Directly to their left, the sheet of paper faced dem. Zemo spared it a long look, before regarding Bucky again. «What did it cost?»
He resembled a ghost on an eternal march to the ocean. Bucky wondered, with a splinter eating into his heart, if either of them had ever gotten to be young. «Everything.»
Brown eyes were heavy lidded and distant. «Are we worth it?»
This answer was the easiest thing in the world to give. «A century long nightmare pales in comparison to a single second with you.»
He startled when a cold knuckle brushed over his cheekbone, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized was there. Zemo was watching him with one part wonder, one part disbelief. «Then go,» he said. «Be where you need to be. I am waiting for you.»
Bucky wanted to say something more, he tried to lurch forward when the floor caved beneath him, but he wasn’t given the option. Zemo watched him fall for only a moment, before he turned away and disappeared.
Wait for me.
🌙
His heart hadn’t stopped racing. It couldn’t. The absence of Zemo was turning his entire body into a live wire and all he wanted to do was take off in a dead sprint toward the hotel. Fuck, Bucky wanted to tear through the stupid fucking press conference with his bare hands, but a firm look from Ava told him this was not an option. He had to wait.
Fuck .
Zemo must have been in the void, there was no way anyone had escaped it. The hotel was only 5 blocks from where they were standing. What if he was injured in the chaos? What if he was…?
His phone stayed stubbornly silent in his trembling grip. This was not supposed to circle back on Zemo, who was supposed to be tucked away in DC and fussing over the interior of their apartment, doing commission work here and there if someone could afford him. He was retired, for God’s sake. They had a cat together.
Bucky missed his wedding band. He’d left it behind to keep it safe, but right now, he’d kill for the feeling of it around his finger.
It was a near thing that he didn’t open fire when Bob leaned a bit closer. «Are you okay?» he whispered, flashing a smile that was as awkward as it was sweet. «You’re jittery.»
Oh. Bucky clasped his hands together to still them. Valentina was still scrambling to save what little remained of her reputation, so no one really looked at the two of them. Bucky forced himself to breathe. «I need to go look for someone.»
Bob nodded with understanding. «Your husband?»
«I–» Bucky paused, narrowing his eyes. «How’d you know it’s a husband?»
«Uhm,» the kid hedged, looking distinctly red all of a sudden. «Uh, I guess– I just sorta assumed…»
He’d probably retained it from whatever information lingered from the void rooms. Bucky hadn’t exactly been heterosexually tragic in those. «You’re good,» he said, clasping his shoulder.
Bob’s face turned thoughtful and a little somber for a moment, before he looked back up with a startling clarity in his eyes. «You should go,» he said, softly.
«We’ll find you.»
The buzz of the crowd faded into silence as the weight of this day piled on both their shoulders. It only broke when Bob smiled again, looking a little unsure of himself.
Oh, fuck it. The press could say whatever the hell they wanted. Bucky wasn’t waiting anymore, he wasn’t sticking around to just hope and pray Zemo had made it out alive.
I’m waiting for you .
The crowd of journalists broke into surprised yells when Bucky took off past them, though the team was less taken aback by his abrupt exit. Bucky didn’t stop to consider any of it, he just ran.
The streets passed by in a blur of chaos, smoke, sirens and blue lights. Bucky didn’t process where he was going, he didn’t need to. Just when it had appeared he couldn’t say, but there was a compass needle in his chest that would always point to Zemo.
He burst onto the street in front of the hotel and was met with the sight of a large delivery truck crashed into the front wall, gouging a hole in the building. Smoke billowed out from the engine, obscuring the figures moving around inside the lobby.
No one on the street was familiar. Bucky looked around frantically to no avail, passing through the crowd and weaving in between the wounded until he could get to the truck itself. The door to the lobby was destroyed, how would anyone get out?
Movement in his peripheral had him whipping around with his heart lodged in his throat, but it wasn’t Zemo. A woman emerged through a smoke cloud with a wet rag rag covering her mouth and nose, with her other arm reaching out behind her. A moment later, Bucky understood why.
A line of people emerged one by one from the building, each holding on to each other, each with some sort of covering over their face. Children and their parents, businessmen in their ashen suits, employees and even a security guard. Everyone except his.
Bucky ran down the ruined pavement. Please be there. Please be okay.
There was no sign of him. The line was coming to an end, Bucky could see the last person emerge with their arm slack, and it was not Zemo. Either he was still inside or he– or he was–
Two more silhouettes emerged from behind the smoke. Bucky stopped dead, frozen to the spot by a terror that could split the earth open if he lost control of it.
Every second passed like a never-ending nightmare. This couldn’t be how it ended. Bucky wasn’t ready to be a widower, he couldn’t arrange a funeral, pick out flowers and a fucking thank you card. He couldn’t go home to Alpine and watch her stare in confusion at the door when it didn’t open a second time.
His wedding band would not be joined by Zemo’s hanging on a necklace chain. He refused. This could not be it, it just couldn’t be it.
The smaller silhouette emerged first. A little boy, no older than nine. He looked petrified, clinging on to the jacket hem of the man whose arm was around his shoulders.
Bucky felt his soul shatter from the pressure building inside him. A gold ring glinted among the smoke.
The little boy looked up when the sound of a man’s voice rose above the rest. The child’s eyes went wide as the rag dropped from his face, and with a final look up at his escort, he bolted into the arms of his father.
Zemo watched him go with an unreadable expression on his face. He had nothing to cover himself. Soot streaked his face, his hair, his clothes. There was blood dripping down his temple and staining his white shirt collar. He was carefully balancing his weight on his right foot.
God, he was alive. He was alive. Bucky didn’t know when he started running, he didn’t even know when he had made the decision to move, but he was not stopping.
«Zemo,» he breathed, barely a sound at all. Zemo’s eyes blew wide and he turned, just before Bucky came crashing into him. They spun around from the momentum, with Zemo’s feet entirely off the ground. Bucky crushed him so close it was bordering on dangerous, but the arms around his neck were equally ferocious, on the verge of strangulation.
«Fuck,» he said, setting Zemo down on his good foot. Bucky’s hands went everywhere, from his back, to his shoulders, to his hair, to his arms. He couldn’t get to it all fast enough. A sob cracked his voice, and he pressed his cheek against the side of Zemo’s head. «Don’t you ever let me go.»
Fingers clenched tight in Bucky’s hair. «Are you hurt?» Zemo asked, hoarsely.
«No, darling, I’m okay,»
The tension evaporated from Zemo’s muscles so fast, he would’ve crumpled to the ground if he wasn’t being held up. «And your team?»
«They’re okay too. Walker’s shield is all fucked up, though.»
A breathy laugh shook Zemo’s shoulders. When they kept on shaking and small sniffling noises were being muffled against Bucky’s shoulder, alarm bells started ringing again. «Hey,» he said, untangling them just enough that he could see Zemo’s face. The tears weren’t quite falling, but they were crowding in his eyes. «What’s the matter?»
That gash in his temple looked bad. He was more than likely concussed and in need of stitches.Zemo looked down, his nose and lashlines all rosy shades of red. «I saw you, in the…» his brows twitched together. «You were so young.»
Bucky brushed the back of his hand over Zemo’s cheek, wiping away some of the soot. There wasn’t much left of that young man from the void room. There was always going to be a Zemo before Ultron, and a Zemo after. «So were you.»
Zemo smiled, an expression mixed with pain, unparalleled relief, and warmth. Every bruise and cut faded to nothing, one by one. He was safe. They were safe.
A glance over Bucky’s shoulder had Zemo’s expression going wry. «I think we have company, my love,» he mused, withdrawing his arms and taking a minute step back. Bucky was about to ask, but a loud voice thoroughly extinguished any confusion he might’ve had.
« Him? » John hollored from across the road, marching up with a firm grip around the wrist of a very apologetic looking Bob.
Great.
«Lean on me. Your leg is fucked and you’re trying to pretend it’s not,» Bucky murmured, looping an arm around Zemo’s waist. He got an annoyed huff, but it was followed by compliance, so he didn’t care.
«Out of everyone on this goddamn planet, you marry Zemo ?» John stopped a foot away like he thought Zemo might be up to something, keeping Bob squarely behind him. It was cute.
«Who is he?» Bob asked, looking at Zemo like he’d never seen him before in his life.
Zemo, evidently, found this amusing, and he interrupted Walker’s undoubtedly unflattering introduction. «I blew up the UN, dear.»
All the color drained out of Bob’s face. «Oh. Cool.» Then, with a thoughtful frown to contrast his nervousness, he said, «You’re bleeding pretty bad.»
«He’s fine,» John cut in morosely. «You couldn’t kill him if you tried.»
«Does he have… powers, or whatever?»
Bucky had a headache droning behind his temples and a violent need to just throw Zemo over his shoulder and walk away, but his beloved spouse was watching the exchange with a keen, if concussed, interest. «I don’t, no,» he said sweetly. «I am just a man.»
«Terrorist,» John corrected.
All that got was a coy shrug. John was going increasingly red in the face and looked like he was about to start pointing his finger in some sort of passionate speech, so Bucky cut the fun short. They could get on each other's nerves when Zemo wasn’t hurt. «My husband ,» he said, daring John to have anything else to say about it, «Is injured and in need of medical attention. Everything is fine here, I’ll see you guys later.»
John, to his credit, snapped back to business. «You’ve had time to evacuate everyone already?»
Bucky hid a smile behind a strategic swipe of his vibranium hand. Zemo was the only one who saw it, and he let out an exasperated sigh. «Nope. That was all him.» He gestured at Zemo with his chin.
Bob brightened up a bit, but John looked like someone put salt in his coffee. He gave Zemo a very begrudging nod that only turned more sour when Zemo evaded his gaze entirely. For all his bravado, he really hated it when anyone pointed out that he could be nice sometimes.
John more than likely took it to mean disrespect. He took hold of Bob’s other wrist too and started marching him back to the others. «Bye!» he called over his shoulder. «It was, uhm, nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes!»
They shared a look that could be translated to please? and a responding, absolutely not.
«I like him,» Zemo mused, giving a small wave in return. «I take it he is the source of the events today?»
He should know better than to be surprised at Zemo’s observational skills at this point, but it never failed to catch him off guard. With overlapping missions, they hadn’t gotten to talk much at all since this all started. Bob certainly never came up by name, only the Sentry project. «Yeah. He’s…» He didn’t know how to describe it, so he gave up. They’d all seen it. «I like him too.»
Bucky flagged down an approaching ambulance, and they set off toward it, but it only took about three steps before he scooped his put-upon spouse into his arms. The position made his pant leg ride up slightly, and Bucky caught a glimpse of his vividly swollen ankle. «New rule,» he declared.
Zemo sighed. «Yes?»
«We keep emergency comms on us at all times. I couldn’t reach you today because you only brought your fucking burner.»
There was no argument voiced, especially not when the square outline of said burner stood out against Zemo’s pocket. «In my defense–».
«No. Declined and denied.»
«Don’t tempt the couch with your presence,» Zemo warned with all the pleasantness of a venomous snake. «It misses you since last time.»
«You can’t get up the damn stairs without me, we’ll be sharing it.»
«Ugh,» Zemo uttered, with a shiver of disgust to boot. As if they hadn’t cuddled up on that expensive ass couch too many times to count. Bucky rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Zemo’s temple.
«I love you,» he said, against his skin. «Asshole.»
Zemo brushed his knuckles against Bucky’s jaw. «I occasionally love you too.»
He snorted, shaking his head with a grin still stubbornly in place. When they reached the paramedic, a harried woman who nonetheless looked like she could run laps around all of them, ordered for Zemo to be put down on the ambulances’ back step
They wouldn’t make it home to DC by tonight, but they could find a nice hotel to hole up in while Zemo recovered. Right now, that sounded like a dream come true.
That room was distant to him now, but somewhere in the back of his mind, it stood empty with a layer of dust coating every surface. Nature was starting to reclaim the ruin, with branches and vines growing in through the window, through the cracks in the wall.
No one had been there for years, and maybe they never would be again.