Middle Ground I Bucky barnes & H.Zemo

4

When the clock striked seven a.m Zemo decided it was time to go. He had spent the night in a state of costant alert, his head was pounding and his legs were slow to respond. He felt so worn out, but he was satisfied and proud of his watch: he didn't leave Bucky throughout his sleep, he looked after him in respectful silence until he saw shy rays of early sun peeking through the blinds. The only thing left was waiting to see which version of the man sleeping on the bed he was going to face: James or the Winter Soldier? He sneaked out of the room and groaned of annoyance once he was out: his ankles were definitely bothered to have to walk after all those hours. Luckily Sam seemed to be still asleep: Zemo really didn't mean to waste time explaining why he spent the night in Bucky's room, and he was pretty sure Sam would have passed out twice before actually giving him space to clarify. He briefly changed into fresh clothes and decided it was a good idea to distract himself by cooking: it had always been a good habit of his, he used to prepare breakfast everyday before his son would leave for school and his wife for work. Staring at the pan he was making the pancakes in he got lost in his own thoughts

Papa papa!

God, words could not express how much he missed that screaming munchkin, the way he would jump onto him and wrap his little arms around his neck, giving him precious kisses on the cheeks. Kids were always so innocent, so unaware of the rotten world around them, and yet they were the first ones to suffer from the consequences of others' actions. His son... he had such vivid eyes, a bright smile that could enlighten any bad day, the bubbliest personality and the jolliest loud voice. He was his son, and the day he died a part of him died with him. No matter how much time would pass by, he'd never forget his lifeless body as he held him and his father in his arm. Some pictures get stuck in your head forever.

-Hey- a voice made him wince out of the blue. When he looked at the frying pan, the pancake was completely burned.

Bucky was standing in the middle of the room, all disoriented with his hair all ruffled: he was pretty much still asleep.

-Goodmorning- Zemo tested the waters carefully. The Winter Soldier wouldn't have said anything without orders, so he assumed the man in front of him had to be James, but he couldn't tell if he was mad at him for the things he did, or if he even remembered at all what had happened. He scraped the black residues of batter and threw them away and served the rest on a white plate: at least he still had a pile of good ones left. It was a meaningless detail, burning those pancakes, but it triggered him more than he could admit: he was good at cooking, his son loved watching him in the kitchen, now he wasn't good at that neither. 

Bucky grabbed a fork and started eating in silence. Zemo was puzzled by his behaviour to say the least, yet he was too afraid to say anyting.

-I remember everything- he didn't take off his eyes from the plate -You don't have to look so worried. It didn't feel lovely...but it's alright. I am not angry with you, I could have injured myself if it wasn't for your idea-

-I am glad to hear that, I was baffled because I doubted you would approve. However I still mean to keep my promise. Unless it's for your personal safety I won't appeal to the codes, ever again-

Bucky offered his right hand to Zemo with a sly expression

-Thank you, I believe you-

The baron leaned but sadly before he could shake his hand Sam rushed in shouting something about the smell of pancakes, complaining about the rumble his hungry stomach was making.

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Bucky shifted to the right to let John pass. The man bumped against his shoulder, shoving him straight to the wall. The voices in his head were kindly suggesting to surround Walker's neck with his metal arm, but the terrible sensation of hollowness spreading around his body prevented him from doing anything reckless. He sealed his mouth shut and watched him and his pet Lemar going after Karli and Sam: he tried to stop him, to talk him into senses, and yet all he received were nasty innuendos. The threath had gotten under his skin: maybe he had a point, he was really endangering his friend just to prove a point, and he couldn't risk Sam's safety because he was too proud to give in. John was right afterall, wasn't he? He was the Winter Soldier, he was not as free as he once believed. Obeying orders was so easy for him, it was second nature, there was no point in denying it: the serum was corrupting him, eroding his organs from the inside, bribing his mind to do the worst things, he couldn't allow more blood to be on his hands.