Notes: I hope everything that is meant to be bold actually posts that way. Sometimes it randomly doesn't post right and I have to go back in and fix it. Also the app says this chapter had 13622 words...but the website says 12990-ish...both copies look like they have everything tho. Let me know if whole chunks seem removed, idk why there's a discrepancy.
"Good morning," Zemo smiled from where he sat at the little kitchen table, laptop in front of him and cup of coffee in hand.
You smiled back your greeting, walking to the fridge. Opening the door, you were surprised to find a re-stocked supply. You tapped on the door to get Zemo's attention as you held up a new gallon of milk and inquired about it with your look.
"Oeznik stopped by," Zemo answered, "We can't last on one refrigerator's worth of food for forever."
You nodded, next motioning to ask if he'd eaten anything yet.
"No, but Oeznik brought some muffins from a particularly delightful bakery," he replied, standing to go grab the box from one of the cupboards, "I recommend the banana nut, but that is just my preference."
You grabbed two plates, meeting him at the table. He offered the banana nut and you nodded, heading back to get a cup.
"No, thank you, my coffee will be fine," Zemo said when you checked to see if he wanted any orange juice.
"Oh, I also had this brought over for you," he said, pulling something from a bag at his feet, "So you don't have to deplete the world's paper resources in order to insult me."
He placed a dry-erase board on the table, one about the size of a normal piece of paper. You grinned as you took it, popping the cap off of the attached marker.
I hope you bought backup markers?
"When don't I plan ahead?" he chuckled, reaching down to pull out a large pack of markers...a very large pack.
I'm not sure if I should be insulted
"Well, in a short amount of time, you've become proficient in communicating without speaking or writing. But we both love the sound of our own voices, I'm afraid. Or, in your case, the look of your own handwriting. I suppose I should have known what I was getting myself into, taking a voice away from someone with your..." he looked around with a smirk, trying to think of a polite way to put it, "...energy."
You fussed in your own silent way at that, and he laughed some more.
So how often is Butler Boy supposed to come?
"Once a week, unless I call him for something in particular."
How has it been a week already?
"Time flies when you're glued to action movies."
Not my fault there were some great marathons on TV this week
He hummed and sipped his coffee, continuing to read whatever was on his computer screen.
Come on, you like them. What happened to that awesome thing you once said about liking movies?
"I stand by what I said, and I do enjoy them. Staring at that screen for too long will rot your brain though."
Yes, father
"If I were your father, I'd say to get your elbows off the table when you eat."
You pointed out his own elbows.
"My house," he shrugged.
That's such a dad thing to say
"I fit the part well once, believe it or not."
Damn way to rub salt in his wound. Nice going.
Well if we're cutting back on the TV time, you'd better start getting other things to do in here. I have no training room, no books, no phone, no plans, no nothing
"No nothing is a double negative, thus meaning you have something."
And I thought Loki could be picky about my grammar
"I'm sure the house could use some cleaning," he said randomly.
You groaned.
"Then you're not really bored."
I hate when parents do that!
"Well thank goodness I'm not your parent, for a second there I thought you hated what I said."
You were unable to not laugh at his sarcasm, or the casual way he was starting to speak with you. He'd always been blunt and humorous with you, but still in a more professional fancy Zemo way. In the week you'd been with him, his mannerisms had grown more relaxed. You were sure his haughty intelligence and subtle sarcasm was always present with his family, but no man is that emotionally rigid or speaks so deliberately in his own home. Everyone has a chill side, and the way Zemo delivered his lines was slowly showing his.
You and Zemo munched on your muffins, your eyes drifting around the room as you did. You'd already become familiar with the layout, but it didn't stop you from visually analyzing every inch of the kitchen. You'd searched for a way out, despite enjoying Zemo's company. Truth was, there was no way out. Windows were barred, the front door remained impenetrable, and the only other entrance was in the kitchen, a side door that must have led to another street on the side of the house. That meant the residence was probably on a street corner. The second door wasn't nailed, but it had an extensive series of locks. Zemo clearly wasn't taking any chances.
Sneaking out at night to pry boards off the door would wake Zemo instantly. Hell, the hallway alone was loud enough to wake the whole street. Your door wasn't locked at night, because Zemo knew, as you did, that there was no way to make it past his room or down the steps undetected. The keys for the kitchen door were kept hidden, though he'd used them to let Oeznik in that morning.
Will Oeznik come the same time every week?
"Why?"
Curious. Maybe I'll make sure I'm here to say hi
"I thought we'd agreed never to lie to one another?"
Did you just quote President Snow from Hunger Games?
"We'd made a similar gesture of honesty before, hadn't we? Well, at least on my end. Besides, it's still in my head from last night."
Comparing yourself to the tyrannical villain?
"Ok, all I did was quote him! I hope I'm not that big an asshole."
Snow really is the worst
"I thought you like villains?"
Villains with some likeable qualities. Not to say he isn't a good villain, but so's Thanos and you don't see me wanting to be his friend.
"But you do befriend villains? Like Loki, for instance?"
Yeah but that's cuz he's not a villain anymore
"And you so easily forgive his sins?" he asked in a slightly accusatory tone.
I'd forgive yours. Remember, you're on the list of MCU movie villains. Main antagonist of a film.
Zemo's face grew more serious as he finished his muffin in silence.
"I did not try to conquer the earth," Zemo said from the sink, where he was placing his dish.
No, you just bombed buildings and hope to tear apart a team of people trying to do better by saving others. Oh, and if you succeed, you'll be responsible for the death of millions when the Avengers aren't united to stop Thanos. But sure, good-boy points for not trying to conquer earth at least. Cuz that would be going too far.
You knew your sarcasm would come through the words, as you held it up for Zemo to read.
"I would not be responsible for something I did not create. What happens between me and the Avengers is a separate entity from anything else."
Stop trying to use technicalities to get yourself out of the blame. It's like if Tony didn't take responsibility for Ultron cuz he didn't intend to make a murder-bot! If your actions lead to bad consequences, you're responsible for whatever happens
"He does not merely need to take responsibility...he needs to be stopped. He needs to pay the price for his actions."
Then I'll be sure to come hunt you down to make you pay for yours when Thanos wipes out half my friends. That is, if you and I aren't snapped out of existence with them. Don't you see? It's that cycle you talked about. The one I said you're keeping going. Instead of letting them learn from their wrongs and try to do better, you're trying to enact your own justice, which is purely subjective btw. You don't get to decide. And when you do something villainous in the name of justice, you're no better than what you're condemning. And then who's there to enact justice on you? Who do you deem fit for that? You clearly think yourself a god who's in the right when it comes to serving out punishment, so is it then ok for someone else to do the same to you? How long do we go with the pattern before it ends? Before someone grows up.
You took a minute to write it all out, having to show it in bits before erasing in order to continue and stopping Zemo from talking whenever he tried interrupting your progress. Zemo read it, glancing sternly over the words.
"Please, I don't wish to get into this argument again," he sighed.
Because you might lose? Every time I out-logic you, you change the subject
"Because I don't wish to fight," he countered.
You started scribbling again, but paused and erased what you had. There wasn't any point.
"Thank you," he said gratefully, sitting back down.
You pouted for a bit, finishing your breakfast as your anger over how stupid, in your opinion, Zemo was being dissipated.
"Valiant effort to learn when the kitchen door opens, by the way," Zemo said, not looking up from his screen.
It's not like I could walk out it with you and Oeznik there. I was just curious.
"No, but you could plan to have me out of the way when he arrived."
You mean me killing you?! Dude no
"Wouldn't be your first attempt," he mumbled, raising his mug for another sip.
Hey I said sorry!
"I know, which is why I will only hold it over you for another couple of months."
You planning on keeping me here for a couple of months? Speaking of, I assume the Avengers aren't caving to your idiotic demands?
"I didn't anticipate them yielding easily, so it is hardly unexpected. Though what does that say about their love for you when they withhold information for their own safety over yours?"
Cliche corrupting of the kidnapped hero? Oh dear, I can feel the anger and sadness at the sense of abandonment rising! I think I'll join the Dark Side now.
"I was simply making an observation," he smiled, "No need for the sass."
There's always need for sass
"I do predict they will submit eventually, as more time passes without hope of finding you. If things go too slowly, I could always send a threat of torture? Light a fire under them?"
You just stared at him in a joking "should I run?" kind of way.
"Come on, I won't really torture you," he rolled his eyes, "But they don't know that."
They're not gonna give in. They know I wouldn't want them to. And they know more than just me will get hurt if they let you win. They can't handle your shit if they're to be ready for Thanos, so sorry you ain't getting what you want.
"We'll see," he shrugged.
We should place bets
"And what do you want to bet?" he asked, amused by your antics.
For every week that passes without them giving in, you gotta get some new entertainment in here.
"Where is my prize if they cave?"
Uh, if they cave that will be your prize, duh
"Me winning the prediction can't, in itself, be the prize for winning."
Well then what do you want if the Avengers do it?
"I'll have to think about it," he mused, zoning out for a second before focusing his attention back on his laptop.
Whatchu doin? Hacking the Pentagon and stealing nuclear codes or something bad-guyish?
Zemo turned the screen to face you.
"Watching cute cat compilations."
You were momentarily stunned into silence by the reveal, finally laughing at the innocence of it.
"Are you mocking my taste in youtube videos?" he teased, laughing with you.
Never
"Good, because I'll have you know that this video was...trending? That's the word, right?"
Yes, old man, trending
"Old?" he asked offendedly, "When my son said it it was one thing, he thought anything past ten was ancient, but you? I'll have you know this 'old man' beat you in a fight."
You cheated!
"Tactical maneuvers is not cheating."
Any old man could stick a needle in someone ya coward. I was beating your old bones to the point where you had to resort to drugs again
"You were about to run away if I hadn't, who's the bigger coward?"
Tactical maneuver
"Then we're even. And if we're even, then my victory in the battle counts."
We're talking physicality here. I woulda won
"You think I was really down for the count?"
Don't start saying you let me nail you in the head
"No, that seems to be your thing," he said with a pointed look.
See so I coulda taken you
"I may not have expected your skills, and you were formidable, but I have experience, Ms. Arlington. I didn't wish to hurt you either, so, if I didn't have the syringe and were forced to go all out, then I'm afraid you would have lost."
All speculation. Ya don't know anything for sure
"Maybe we'll get the chance to see who's right?"
You sound hopeful. You aching to punch me that badly?
"Ms. Arlington," he said in a disappointed tone, tilting his head.
I know I know, you're not the evil asshole, yadayada, etc etc
"Precisely," he grinned, "Would an evil asshole have his butler bring games? Or how about microwaveable popcorn?"
Depends on the games
You and Zemo unpacked Oeznik's bag of goodies, finding he'd taken care to mix a lot of time-consuming items into the bundle. For example, he'd purchased a large box of dominos, which the two of you meticulously planned out. You debated over the best route, finally having the elaborate path around the living room, hallway, and kitchen ready to start setting up. Both of you were ambitious, finding household objects to include in the chain-reaction that was to occur. At one point, after spreading at least a hundred dominos, Zemo knocked one over as he reached to place the next in line. All of your beautiful work came tumbling down, the two of you watching in jaw-dropped horror. When the pieces had finished toppling, you turned your head to stare at Zemo, who slowly and guiltily faced you.
"Well...we know they work?"
Going back over your destroyed progress from the beginning, you eventually reached the location of Zemo's failure. You looked at him hard the whole time.
"You know, your stare isn't helping," he whispered in concentration, delicately moving the domino into position.
At some point in the kitchen, you knocked one over also, sprinting to move a piece and disrupt the line before it grew disastrous.
And that's how you stop a mess before it happens
"Where was that reaction time when I needed it?"
At long last your magnum opus was complete, with you and Zemo very carefully moving over and around the pieces to get back to the start.
"Ready?" Zemo asked, crouching down, his finger behind the first piece.
You nodded.
His finger tipped the first one over, the series collapsing after it. The fall happened swiftly, following the swirling patter around the living room and out to the hall. You and Zemo rushed behind it, keeping the view in sight. Just before the kitchen, one of the pieces didn't fall correctly, stopping the flow. You quickly knocked the next one over, starting the process again in time for the finale you'd planned in the kitchen.
"Not to brag, but we're great at this," Zemo chuckled after the show was over.
You displayed your agreement, glancing around at the mess you now had to clean up.
"Still bored?" he asked, "Because I'd be more than willing to let you clean it up if you wish?"
You nudged him, heading to the table to get the box and begin the tedious chore of tidying after a game. Throwing dominos in a box was easier work than standing them, so the job went faster than anticipated.
The next few hours were spent talking, as the two of you had done often throughout the week. He told more, obviously, as writing lengthy conversations was hard, but there wasn't much else to do. And you both got along, so it was an enjoyable pastime. He asked questions about your life, your likes and dislikes, your interests and friends, and you did the same. He'd avoided bringing his family up at first, but they were gradually making appearances. Talking about them was painful, but perhaps in a therapeutic way? It seemed easier for him with every attempt.
Oeznik's games helped keep you entertained without having to use the TV so much, so life continued happily. You weren't going to lie, sometimes it felt like you were living in an endless time-loop. Not that you repeated what you did every day, or that Zemo got boring, but you never saw the outside world, to the point where it felt like you weren't in it. Time passed on the clocks, but it felt like it'd frozen in every other meaningful way. You felt like you were in a fake little set-up, a claustrophobic box where you'd be forced to entertain yourself day in and day out. Even the food arriving when you didn't see it added to the weird feeling, like you were in a simulation and the food just dropped from the sky. These troubles were only a problem when you focused on them, so you tried not to. Talking to Zemo helped, and you spent practically all of your day with him anyway, so all was usually well.
Arguments inevitably broke out, usually over the same topic of the Avengers. Every time he'd change the subject or stop the conversation, unable to justify his wrongful actions in the name of punishing wrongful actions. You weren't always the one to bring it up though, as Zemo had a knack for saying snippy remarks regarding your love for them. He was like you in that regard...sometimes you both just couldn't help yourselves. For example, one day you were watching the news, hoping to hear anything regarding the team, when the Thanksgiving bombings were brought up again. They mentioned the fifteen injured and one death that had occurred, and you'd made sure to turn the volume loud enough for Zemo to hear in the kitchen. If the way he strolled into the living room and stared at you was any indication, he heard every word. You pretended to just be innocently watching the TV, in order to bug him some more, and he eventually pulled the plug to shut it off. Let's just say he was more than a little disgruntled for the rest of that day.
For every argument you had, there were, however, twice as many good conversations. Zemo was funny, and the two of you would end up cackling at your own stupid jokes far more than you should have. You also filled him in on some of your space adventures. You couldn't give full details in writing, but something would spark a quick anecdote from a particular moment in your time with the Avengers. You'd told him about the time you pushed Loki off the rainbow bridge, the party on Asgard, a brief synopsis of the battle on Knowhere and Sakaar, Christmas time with the Avengers, your movie and game nights, etc. You also were sure to mention sweet times between them, or how they treat you. You did it subtly enough and within the context of whatever was being discussed, but your goal was to show the Avengers as good people as often as you could. Zemo most likely knew your intentions, but he never stopped you from happily conveying everything. He even laughed at some of them, or was intrigued by descriptions of Asgard and other worlds.
Most importantly, you had plenty of time to actually explain the future to him. Not the future he was curious about, but the one he needed to know. Thanos, the infinity stones, the snap, etc. You'd only ever mentioned it briefly, Zemo assuming that whatever happens was a purely Avengers problem. You sought to provide him with a more rounded and informed opinion, even if that opinion did not change to the one you wanted.
"I see. So you've saved Loki, Mr. Stark, Ms. Romanoff, and The Vision. That is quite the accomplishment, even if I don't like them."
Saved for the time being. Thanos is still going to come, one way or another. We're just trying to be ready for him when he does. But they've all suffered so much, they deserve a chance to live their lives. Tony needs Morgan and Pepper, just as much as they need him. Nat and Yelena (her sister) have been brainwashed and torn apart since birth, and when they're finally reunited and have a chance at a happy life with friends and family, Nat sacrifices herself for the universe. It shouldn't have to be that way.
"Sometimes, Ms. Arlington, that is the way it was meant to be."
Would you so readily say that about your family's death?
You didn't think he'd answer, and that you'd started another argument.
"No. I suppose I wouldn't," he said, shocking the hell out of you. His face was serious, and he wasn't meeting your eyes, so there was probably still anger at your mentioning of his wife and son. But at least he'd been able to admit your point was valid.
The hour for your daily dose of whatever drug kept your vocal cords dead was at hand, so the conversation ended there as he went to fetch the needle. You rolled up your sleeve, seeing the dotted history of the other needles on the skin. You switched arms every day, but you'd been here long enough to have a number of marks on both. The needle pricks themselves were not very noticeable, but rather the bruise or two that might form around it, depending on how your pesky arm decided on reacting that day. He apologized, as he did every day, sliding the needle in and out as swiftly and gently as possible. He covered the small dot of blood with a bandaid, and you were good to go.
You kept track of the days you'd been away, marking them on a notebook in your room. Standing up from bed on this particular morning, you logged your 22nd tally on the paper. You then went about your morning routine. Getting dressed from the clothes Zemo had provided, brushing your teeth, and so forth. Every morning you stood your mattress up against the bed, using it as a punching bag and going through exercises to keep yourself somewhat fighting-ready. You'd finish with core work, and then shower, change again, and head downstairs for breakfast. Before you left, you searched around for a hair-clip you couldn't find.
Oh yeah, left it down on the living room end-table last night, you thought, heading down to look for it. When you couldn't find it in the living room, you poked your head into the kitchen to ask Zemo.
"How would I know where your clip is?" he said in uncharacteristic irritation, piecing together what you were looking for with your hand motions.
You were caught off-guard by his tone, but even more so by the beer in his hand. You made a drinking motion, pointing from the bottle to the clock on the wall.
"No, it is not too early, Ms. Arlington. There are plenty more in the fridge if you'd like? I had Oeznik bring the supply by this morning. Don't give me that look. If you want one get one, if you don't, leave."
You didn't know what his deal was, but you stared a bit longer before walking away. Turns out your clip was in the downstairs bathroom, so you took it back to your room. You were wondering if you should even ask what was wrong with him, but decided against it. If he wanted to be grouchy today, let him be grouchy. You'd address it if it crossed a line.
Zemo had a drink in his hands for most of the day, usually attempting to slowly consume a bottle when you were with him. You suspected he downed far more when you were away. Some people get giddy as they grow intoxicated, others sad or angry. Sometimes it heavily depends on why they're drinking. If that were the case with Zemo, he was drinking for some upsetting reason, as he was no fun to be around that day. He held himself back from saying anything of severe insult, so you chose to bite your tongue and say nothing. For the latter half of the day, he sulked in his bedroom, which was odd. He rarely remained up there when you were unsupervised downstairs. Not that you could find a quiet way to break boards off of a door anyway, so it made little difference. Still, he was acting stranger and stranger as the hours passed.
You ate dinner without him, knocking on his door to see if he was alright before going to bed. He said he wasn't hungry and mumbled a goodnight, but didn't open. With nothing left to do, you turned off the hall light and went back to your room.
You were pulled from sleep by a crashing noise, jolting you awake immediately. It was past 3 AM, a strange time for Zemo to be up if the noise were him. If it wasn't, he'd be coming out to see what it was as well, so you felt no fear as you quickly exited your room. Zemo was not running from his, so perhaps the noise downstairs was him? Regardless, you took careful movements down the steps. You could still hear the noise of someone moving down the hall, so you peered over the railing and back towards the kitchen as you got further down the stairs. Once far enough to see the whole hall, you spotted Zemo slumped against the wall near the kitchen. He had another beer in hand, and a case next to him. He was very clearly drunk, as he struggled to lift the bottle to his mouth.
You rushed around the corner, crouching next to him. You didn't have your writing utensils with you, and you doubted Zemo would be focused enough to read in his condition anyway. Instead you tried to take the drink from him, your face full of questions and worry as he jerked it away from you and glared.
"I'm....I--I'm fine, Ms. Arling...I'm fine," he repeated.
You shook your head.
"Yes I am!" he groaned, sluggishly lifting the bottle once again. This time you snatched it away firmly, holding it up out of reach as he pathetically tried to get it back.
"Give me...that back!" he said angrily, attempting to stand, but losing balance and dropping right back down. "Fine," he snickered, grabbing another from the case he had at his hip.
You reached for this also, but he was ahead of you, shielding the drink with his other hand as he chugged another few sips. Most of it spilled on himself as he forgot to tilt it upright when he was done.
"See what you've done...I loved those pants," he said, staring helplessly at the mess.
You tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and he looked back up, surprisingly able to focus on you. You held your hands in a "what the hell is all of this?" way.
"It's alcohol, Ms. Arlington," Zemo answered with a drunken chuckle.
You pressed further with your expression.
"I'm drinking...because I can. What? Are...are you going to stop me? Hmm?" he asked leaning forward slightly as his eyes became more sharply focused, "Go ahead, try to take it."
You didn't move for the beer.
"Yeah," he nodded, leaning back against the wall again, "I knew you wouldn't. Do you know why? Because you're a coward, Ms. Arlington."
He seemed to be speaking more soberly, though the raw emotion and the way he held himself still indicated otherwise. Anger must have cleared his mind enough to speak.
"You're...you're a coward. Too scared to fight for anything. Too scared to punish those who need to be punished. Too scared of the consequences, always worrying about what might happen as you...hide behind your heroes...if they can call themselves that."
He took another sip.
"You see, my problem isn't the Avengers...it's you. You keep everything from me. You make me wait here, day after day, when I could have gotten what I needed from you. I should have hurt you for it. I should have ripped it from you, let you scream as I did what I had to do. Because I'm not a coward. I'm not a coward."
You glared in shock and anger at his words, trying to remind yourself that he was drunk. He repositioned himself, the motion causing something to fall half-way from his pocket. You couldn't help but stare at the set of keys. Thankfully, Zemo was too busy consuming more beer to realize what had happened.
"Why did I let myself think I was doing the right thing by not hurting you? I got wrapped up in your talk of heroes and villains, right and wrong, when all of that is bull shit. There are no heroes. No villains. Just people and the pain they cause others. Titles are meaningless. Underneath, we all do what we have to for ourselves...for our family. So why did I make the exception with you?" he said in resentment, looking at you like you were something repulsive. "I should have left the machine on when I left you in that basement. Let it burn you from the inside out. At least that way I'd have made one person pay for what happened."
He was glaring very hard at you now, and you were struggling to remain composed. The truth was, hearing that from Zemo hurt, and your eyes were starting to well with angry and pained tears. You nodded, smiling as you pulled the keys from his pocket and stepped briskly over him.
"Go!" he called after you, "Run away."
He didn't have to tell you twice. You stormed through the kitchen, stepping over a shattered pack of beer that must have been the noise to wake you up. Empty bottles littered the table, evidence that Zemo had been down here for quite a while. You fumbled with the keys, finding the ones that fit each lock. At long last you had them all undone, opening the door and feeling the first taste of fresh air since you'd arrived. You made to step out, but paused at the sound drifting in from the hall. The sounds were sobs.
What are you doing just go! You played nice, now leave. He is not your problem. He screwed up and let you go, just run!
Hating yourself for doing anything but what your mind was telling you, you walked back across the kitchen, shaking your head at your own stupidity. You stepped into the hall, looking down at the sad extreme of drunk Zemo. In all honesty, you weren't sure which side you liked better, angry or sad? Sad was just heart-breaking, and so unlike Zemo. He'd dropped the beer, his hands laying limply on the floor at his sides while he cried the most distraught cry you'd witnessed in real life. You couldn't believe this was Zemo, the man you thought you'd gotten to know better. The man you thought had reached his worst when you provoked him on your first night here. That outburst had been the most emotionally erratic he'd ever been. Put a whole liquor store in him, and that grew exponentially worse.
You crouched once again, Zemo's surprise at your return being enough to stop the flow of tears. He slumped his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke.
"You should leave, Ms. Arlington. This isn't a movie...I'm not a broken puzzle you can fix."
You stood to grab your one of the spare notebooks from the kitchen, scribbling quickly when you were back.
I'm not trying to
"Then why are you still here?"
You think I stayed so willingly all this time to change you? If that happens, great, but that's not why I decided to not act like a bitch
"I know that. It's because it would make things easier and more enjoyable. We discussed it your first night, I remember. But the door is open, you can go. Nothing matters anyway. Nothing will get better."
What's going on? you asked, ignoring the fact that he thought you'd been cooperative only for yourself.
He continued staring sadly at the ceiling.
"It was my son's birthday today," he said quietly, tears starting to form again. He was aware enough to hold them in this time. "The first without him."
You placed your pad and pencil on the ground, moving from a crouch to a sitting position against the wall next to Zemo. You didn't press for him to open about anything else. You didn't write an apology or statement of sympathy. You simply sat there with him, letting him stare ahead at the wall and struggle to reign in the tears that threatened to escape. He was drunk, after all, so you marveled how he could hold anything in, let alone something so painful. He let out a shaky sigh, pressing his palms to his forehead.
Hesitantly, you reached a hand to his arm. He sniffed back his latest round of emotion, dropping his hands from his face. He didn't look at you, but his left hand reached over to rest on yours. Silently comforting him, you sat there, watching the blank wall ahead of you with Zemo, both content to stay in this manner for a series of minutes.
"You should go," Zemo mumbled, and you realized he looked ready to pass out, "You should---"
He was stopped by a gag, leaning to his left and vomiting the endless supply he'd guzzled that day. You realized he hadn't eaten anything, not in front of you at least, so the amount of alcohol he'd consumed on an empty stomach was going to be a problem. It had certainly played a factor in his inability to hold his liquor.
He could hardly pull himself upright after puking, and you had to help him lean back again. He now looked on the verge of sleep, his eyes closing as he tried to look at you.
"You should...go," he muttered again, his eyes closing.
He was out like a light. If before had been a great time to escape, now was even better. You stood up, looking at the man who'd always been so composed, so strong. The man who'd possibly revealed his darkest desires by claiming he should have let you die...but also the man who hadn't done that, who'd found another way in a situation he'd convinced himself he was bound to out of loyalty to his dead family.
You rubbed your fingers through your hair, grunting in frustration as you fought the tempting desire to do what, logically, you shouldn't. Looking back down at Zemo, you tried to imagine what you'd do if it were anyone else on that floor. Then again, no one else had kidnapped you. Well, Loki had threatened you, yet would you have left him in this condition then?
I'm not here to fix him...I'm just doing what's right. Kidnapping me is wrong, so he should deserve nothing less in return. But how can I not feel pity for someone like him?
Coming to a decision, you marched over to the kitchen door before you changed your mind. You'd left it a crack open, a foolish action now that you thought about it. Opening it wide, you took in the street before you. It was your typical neighborhood in a city, albeit one on the sketchier side of town. You saw tightly crammed buildings and apartment complexes. One detail worthy of notice were the license plates on the cars. They were all New York issued.
I'm still in New York?
You couldn't believe you were actually so close to the Avengers...which made what you did next even harder to perform. Taking a deep breath, you closed the door, locking it once again.
Returning to Zemo, you moved him to the couch in the living room. You had to get there via the kitchen entrance, as the hall was temporarily blocked by a puddle of stomach fluid and beer. There was no graceful way of getting him there, so you dragged him as gently as you could. You placed a pillow under his head and a blanket on him. Had you not felt so uncomfortable with the notion, you would have removed his beer-stained pants. But that was just something that, no matter how purely helpful your intentions were, just felt weird. You did remove his shoes and socks, and got a rag to wipe his face, which had beer residue and hints of vomit. When moving some of his hair back from his forehead, you discovered a streak of dried blood. A quick examination revealed the source to be from the palm of his right hand, which he must have cut somehow on the broken glass in the kitchen. Maybe, in his intoxicated state, he'd tried to grab the broken bottles? Either way, you went to the bathroom cabinet for some medical supplies, cleaning the cut before wrapping a bandage around it.
Next came the mess in the hallway and kitchen. You soaked up the puke and dried the beer to the best of your ability with all of the glass present. Once dried enough, you swept the glass and then dried the floor the rest of the way. Between the hall and the kitchen, you had enough floor in need of washing to warrant the mop. Filling a bucket with water and soap, you got to work polishing both surfaces. Lastly, you went around gathering all of the beer bottles, both empty and otherwise, tossing them all in a garbage bag and placing it at the back door with the other filled bag of tonight's mess. From the cracks in the curtains, you could tell it was growing light out by the time you were finished, and you realized it was almost 6. You didn't want to leave Zemo, in case he woke up with another fit of confusion and vomit, so you remained in the living room. Grabbing a bowl from the kitchen, should he wake up sick again, you settled in one of the arm chairs. You were worn enough that sleep did not elude you, and you didn't wake until almost noon. Zemo slept for another four hours after that.
"Ms. Arlington," you heard Zemo say groggily, snapping your attention from the book you were reading.
"Hey," you whispered hoarsely, "I, uh, I wouldn't try that."
Zemo was sitting up, cringing and rubbing his forehead.
You were kneeling in front of the couch now, Zemo having ignored your warning and pulled himself all the way upright.
"What...what happened?" he asked, blinking the fogginess from his eyes and looking around, lifting his bandaged hand in confusion, "Why am I down here?"
"Do you...do you remember anything?"
You weren't sure if you wanted him to remember or not. His eyes stared into space as he thought about it. Realization of some sort hit him. You could see it in his eyes as he looked up at you.
"I remember some," he said grimly, if not remorsefully. "Ms. Arlington---" he started, but he stopped, looking like he was going to be sick again. You quickly handed him the bowl, and he leaned away to let out some more.
"That's what you get for not eating anything yesterday," you said as you took the bowl from him and went to dispose of the contents.
"I...I'm sorry," he said when you were back in the room, "You shouldn't have had to witness whatever occurred last night."
"How much do you remember?"
"Breaking the bottles...you finding me...bits of our conversation. Ms. Arlington, if my memory isn't tainted by the alcohol, I said some things to you last night that I...I shouldn't have said. And I didn't mean. I'm sorry."
He looked sincerely up at you as you simply nodded, growing a little awkwardly rigid at the mention of his words.
"I also remember...telling you to go?" he whispered to himself, sounding more like a question than a statement. He looked to you for confirmation, and you nodded again. "You...you had the keys, didn't you?"
"They fell out of your pocket."
"Wh--what are...why aren't you gone?"
"Well, I couldn't leave you on the floor soaking in your own vomit and spilled beer, could I?" you said in an attempted light-hearted tone, "Besides, this couch may be annoyingly firm, but it's better than the hallway. You should eat something," you changed the subject, scurrying to the kitchen. You'd made some oatmeal, scooping a bit in a bowl and placing it in the microwave.
"It'll take a minute," you said, placing a glass of water in his hands instead, "I uh, I made oatmeal a few hours ago, so it's just gotta warm up a bit."
He looked curiously at you as he grabbed the water, drinking a little bit.
"I don't believe my stomach would agree with anything at this time," he scoffed.
"On the contrary, you need food in your system. Drinking all of that on an empty stomach? Are you nuts?"
"It would seem."
There was a pause where both of you looked at each other, not knowing what to say about the night's events. A beep from the kitchen provided you with an escape, and you hopped off to grab Zemo's food.
"Now, eat this or I'll force it down your throat," you said, sitting next to him and handing the bowl over.
He did as commanded, eating small bites slowly, his motions still sluggish.
"Alcohol is a wondrous miracle in the moment, but the aftereffects are sadly less than desirable," he groaned, rubbing his forehead again.
"Oh, let me get you some advil or something," you stood up hastily, rushing out to find some tablets for him.
"Thank you," he said as he took them, swallowing the pills down with some more water.
You sat again, patiently waiting for him to finish.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Roughly twelve hours at this point."
"Evidently adopting your sleep schedule," he said, shaking his head, and you chuckled a bit at his joke.
"We should get you to your room. I couldn't...well, didn't want to change your pants for you, but you spilled a lot on them last night. And you should probably sleep this hangover off anyway."
"Ms. Arlington," he started again, and by his tone you knew he wanted to discuss what had happened.
"Let me take those," you cut him off, grabbing the dishes and rushing to the kitchen. "Can you get up without face-planting?"
He nodded, but you held his arm for him anyway, helping him stand. He insisted on walking himself, making it up the stairs and to his door.
"If you need anything, uh, just...just call out, ok?"
He nodded, his expression a mixture of unreadable emotions. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. He reached for the handle, but turned back first.
"Why does your voice sound so...." he stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening ever so slightly as the obvious finally dawned on him.
"Yeah," you nodded, "We uh...we missed the dose this morning."
You'd first noticed the difference earlier when you'd cleared your throat. The sound, the feeling, was different. Tentatively, you'd tested your voice, almost forgetting how. It'd started as barely more than a whisper, but, with some practice, it'd grown stronger. You don't know why you glanced to the floor guiltily, as if your voice coming back was something you should feel sorry about. In reality, you guess you were worried about how he'd take it.
You met his eyes, and he looked stunned, trying to think of something to say. At last, he nodded.
"It's good to hear your voice."
And with that, he entered his room.
***
You woke up the next morning faced with the same dilemma as before: What were you going to do? Staying the day before to help was one thing, but were you just supposed to not call out to Heimdall? Just let Zemo take your voice again? Had you made a braindead decision to help someone who was only going to cut off your path to freedom, a path that had been opened for several hours now? You didn't know what Zemo would do, and you didn't know what you should do. As much as you loathed yourself for feeling this way, you had come to the conclusion that you were hesitant to let the Avengers have Zemo. Yes, he had to be stopped. And yes, he'd wrongfully kidnapped you. But...there had to be another way? Surely there's always another way?
This isn't a fantasy, get your head out of the clouds! If you don't think Zemo will change from his stance, then there's never going to be a world where he and the Avengers can peacefully coexist without one triumphing over the other.
As you often do with any difficult situation, you pushed it to the side. Hoping for a miraculous answer to drop from the sky seemed to be a flaw of yours, but one you resorted back to time and time again.
Skipping your routine, you dressed and headed downstairs, wondering if Zemo would be up. He was sitting in the kitchen, per his usual, sipping some coffee. You stopped upon entering, an awkward little stare-off happening. He looked as troubled as you, nodding a greeting that you returned. You made some waffles, poured yourself some milk, offered Zemo some food, and essentially kept busy, so as to not think about the problem at hand.
Zemo waited a few seconds after you sat down before he began.
"Ms. Arlington."
"Hmm?" you answered casually, raising your eyebrows expectantly as you chewed.
"I'm afraid we cannot pretend nothing has happened."
You put down your fork, swallowing as you nodded.
"I know."
"Why did you stay?"
He was staring intently across at you.
"I...I don't know. You needed help."
"And now?"
You took a few seconds before answering.
"I don't want to see you rotting in jail, Zemo. I...I really don't. You're never going to like the Avengers. You're never going to change your position, I know that. But for the same reasons I can move past the things they've done, I can't help but look past yours. You...you were dealt a nasty hand in life, ok? And that kind of life can make people do stupid things. I don't want to see you locked up for stupidity."
Zemo nodded, thinking of his next words.
"I should think a thank you is in order. For last night. Given the things I said, I am surprised you had it in you to stay, let alone take care of me. You're truly too good for this kind of life, Ms. Arlington...this war-filled universe you jumped into."
"Maybe in a war-filled universe, we need a mixture of grit and kindness?"
"A notion most would deem sentimental idealism."
"And what do you deem it?"
"I'm still deciding," he said, staring at you like you were a riddle.
You smiled a little, turning your attention back to your breakfast.
You were washing your plate when Zemo spoke again.
"You know what you have to do."
You sighed, hanging your head. You started drying your dish, nodding as you did.
"Yeah...I do."
"You're wondering what I'm going to do, I'm sure."
"Can't say it hasn't crossed my mind."
You placed the dish in the cabinet, leaning back against the counter with folded arms as you faced Zemo.
"I am many abhorrent things, Ms. Arlington...but I am not so dishonorable. I will not stop you. I should have let you go long ago, something your actions yesterday have only confirmed."
"And...and what then? Farewell until our next shared house?"
"No," Zemo shook his head, and you couldn't hide the surprise on your face.
"What?"
"I still hate the Avengers. Their plights, their lives, the joyful things you've told me about them...it does little to ease my pain...my burden. But, I didn't recognize myself the other night, Ms. Arlington. This promise...it's consumed me. Turned me into something I never wanted to be. I confessed as much the night you tried taking my head off. The problem was, admitting it was not enough to stop me...not then. But now? I confessed to wanting to murder you, a statement born from the darkest depths of my anger. Killing to get back at the Avengers was something I'd accepted...until you.
Am I to allow myself to become the kind of man who would put you through this life? Who would feel a hidden desire to hurt you? You who have shown the purest capacity to see past the flaws of both parties, despite the consequences? I called you a coward. And your reaction was to willingly stay a prisoner in order to help your captor. That is a level of bravery and selflessness I had forgotten was in this world.
I will never be changed in the way you want. I will always carry this bitterness. But how can I face my wife and son someday knowing the things I'd done to avenge them? My son would have gotten along with you, Ms. Arlington. He would have liked you. Hurting you is like hurting him. And I can only picture their disappointment if they saw me now."
He swallowed hard, looking down at the floor. You walked across the room, taking your seat. When he looked up, you smiled sadly.
"You said you're not a puzzle to be fixed. And that's true in a certain sense. I can't fix a puzzle that doesn't have all of the pieces. You lost some when your family was taken. I knew I couldn't make you whole. I couldn't make you the kind of man you may have once been. But that doesn't mean you can't do it yourself.
My job...the one I tasked myself with...was to treat you with the kindness you needed, even if one could argue you didn't deserve it. I may have been impossible to tolerate sometimes," you said with a smile, and he chuckled, "And belligerent and pugnacious and any other fancy word you can think of...but you deserved a small slice of normalcy...a sliver of kindness. And if that helped heal you at all, then halleluiah. But where you go, what you choose to be and do, was never something I was going to control.
I do know one thing though. Your family knew who you were. You were their life as much as they were yours. Maybe your promise was what they'd want, and maybe it wasn't, I can't answer that. But you can. Is that something they'd want from you? Is this pursuit who you are? Or who you think you have to be? I can't answer any of that. Maybe you will one day. But let me just say this: The man I've spent the last 24 days with, and yes I've counted, strikes me as anything but a killer. And if I were your family, watching you right now, I for one would be anything but disappointed. I'd be honored to have a father or husband who loved me so dearly, and I'd be proud at how he decided, in the end, not to lose sight of himself. Whether you decide to go after the Avengers again is a struggle you'll have to face...a question of what your family would want that only you can answer.
We never find replacements that match the pieces we've lost. But we find something to fill those gaps. New purpose. New loved ones, new passions. It doesn't mean the people we lost are gone from our hearts and minds, it means we've learned to carry on without them...holding onto their love and memories that will always be with us. I hope you find some peace. Some closure. Without killing the Avengers would be nice," you laughed, "But it's all up to you. I may oppose you if you try to come for them, but I will always know that there's a man under that pain who SUCKS at keeping his hand still when it comes to dominos. Who burned the bacon all three times he tried to make it. And who, I've decided, had to have been one hell of a father. And who I hope doesn't throw his life away."
He smiled, nodding to himself as you finished.
"I'm going to miss you, Ms. Arlington. And, out of no love for or changed opinion on them, but simply for my own character and well-being...I yield."
"Wait, you...you yield like no more tearing Avengers apart?"
"It's like you said, is this goal who I am? Who my family would want me to be? Or who I've convinced myself I am to satisfy my own lust for revenge? I told you how fond my boy was of the Avengers...how much he was like you, even at his young age. The answer, therefore, is simple. They'd hate to see what I was doing, no matter how ardently I tried to convince myself I was doing it for them. I have much to figure out, Ms. Arlington, as you also noted. Questions and decisions only I can make and solve. Had I not wasted so much time pursuing the Avengers, I may have begun my...my healing. God, I hate that word. Sounds like I'm sick. But my behavior two night's ago is too blatant for even me to ignore. I had no control. Had I faced my pain instead of seeking to throw it on those who deserved it, and yes the Avengers deserve it, his birthday may have been far easier to bear."
"Hey, you bore it better than others would have, I'm sure."
He gave you a skeptical look.
"Ok, so it was bad. But so what? You have more reason than anyone to be that way. Just how you have many reasons to hate the Avengers. Those reasons may not justify your actions, but they certainly weigh in on your decisions. Your mental state."
"You calling me clinically unwell, Ms. Arlington?" he said in mock offense.
"Whaaat? Of course not, no. If I've learned anything from my 24-day imprisonment where my voice was taken by a drug, it's that my captor is a completely sane and rational man."
He shockingly laughed, as you thought maybe you'd gone too far with your joke.
"I'm serious, though. You're a smart man, Zemo. I don't think you're insane at all. I think we have a tendency to justify our actions. Every villain is a hero in his own mind."
"Now you're just showing off. Do you rehearse these in your room before walking down the stairs?"
"I can't take credit for that last one," you laughed, "Loki's actor in my world, Tom Hiddleston, he said that last line."
"I guess no one would know a villain better than those who portray them?"
"Yeah, it's great hearing him talk about Loki. He understands the character really well."
"And do you...understand him?"
"Why'd you word it like that?"
"No reason. Just that among my sources used to gather intel, to keep track of you, I may recall a conversation between you and your little girl group at a bar?"
You furrowed your brow, thinking what he could have meant, when the memory hit you.
"No!" you gasped in horror, "I think if you jump on the me and Loki bandwagon, I'm gonna shoot myself! You were my last hope Zemo!"
He laughed at your reaction, drinking some more coffee.
"So it isn't true?" he smirked.
"No it isn't!"
"If you say so," he shrugged, his face showing he thought the exact opposite.
"Ok, you're an intelligent guy, tell me how weird it would be to meet a fictional character in real life and then have a crush on them?! The others don't get it, it's just bizarre."
"I mean, there are a few fictional characters I wouldn't mind dating in real life," he said amusingly, "But sure, suit yourself. If you don't want to date a god from a golden city---"
"Zemo! It's different when those fictional characters actually prove to be real. We don't like each other. I thought you were anti-sinful dudes anyway? Weren't you salty that I was able to forgive his past?"
"Well, then I verbally attacked you, got myself drunk and injured, and you stayed to take care of me even when you could have escaped. Puts a bit more of a humble perspective on my view before I cast stones. I still don't like any of them," he said in response to your grin, "Know that I am stopping for myself. For my family. And for you. Not the Avengers. And I still regret none of what I attempted to do to them, even if I realize I need to stop. I'm sorry for what I've done to you, however."
"Yeah, that smoke from the burnt bacon took hours to clear, what with no windows allowed open and all that."
"I truly did miss hearing you speak," he chuckled.
"Awwww, really? So I should chat your ear off is what you're saying? Cuz I've got a lot of stuff pent up from the last three weeks, I don't even know where to begin---"
"Where did I put that needle?" he asked, looking around the kitchen.
"I'm gonna miss you," you laughed, looking across at the stupid little grin you'd grown accustomed to seeing.
Zemo smiled back, though it slowly dropped to a more saddened look.
"You should, um...you-you should probably call your friends."
It was unlike Zemo to even remotely stutter over his words. That was your job, he was far too articulate for that.
"Well...they uh, they don't know the situation. Whether I call them now or tonight won't make a difference, right?"
The smile crept it's way back on his face.
"I suppose not, Ms. Arlington."
And so you spent your last day with Zemo, filling it with each of your favorite activities. One time, he surprised you by pulling out the game Battleship.
"I thought you said you hated that game?"
He had, in fact, tossed it aside since the moment he pulled it from Oeznik's bag, claiming he despised playing it.
"I...I may have lied. It's the game I was recently teaching my son."
He didn't need to explain anything more. You gave him a comforting smile, pulling the lid from the top of the box.
"I do have to warn you, I'm something of a professional," Zemo smirked, setting up his ships.
"Yeah, how is this fair?! I'm joining a strategical warfare game with you???"
"Perhaps I can teach you to play better?"
"I doubt it on our one game together," you snickered.
Glancing over the top of your board, you thought you saw Zemo's face drop for a half-second at your words.
Zemo was true to his claim. He was a natural at the game, a wizard actually. There appeared no strategy behind what he called, yet he'd always smile after a failed call, getting a hit on the next one. He moved from one ship to another until you were down to only your 2-slot ship.
"B-5," he stated calmly, a smirk plastered on his face.
"Ok, you're cheating somehow! Is there a reflection behind me or something, how're you doing this?!"
"Logical deduction."
"Yeah logical deduction my ass! You can see over, can't you?!"
"Or you're trying to justify getting beaten so terribly by an 'old man'?"
"A frickin terrifying old man, what you're doing here is impossible I hope you know that?"
Zemo shrugged off the praise.
"You're not doing so terribly yourself."
"I can't find three of your ships, and I'm pretty certain you're moving them on me. No way everything I've called the last ten times has been a miss! I think you're being classic sneaky Zemo."
"Oh is that what I'm known for now?"
"Among other things."
"Cheater!" he accused, and you pulled yourself back from where you'd leaned forward ever so slightly during your conversation.
"What?!"
"You just looked right at my pieces!"
"No I didn't!"
"You did it right in front of me! Are you stooping to such lows, Ms. Arlington?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, H-9!" you called quickly, putting the red hit marker in before he even answered.
"Wow, it's a hit. Shocker," he said dryly, placing his own red peg as you giggled triumphantly. "If only you had more time for that hit to mean anything. B-6."
"Are you sure you don't want to try B-4?"
"You're such a poor sport at this," he shook his head, already starting his clean-up.
During dinner prep, Zemo turned on some music. An idea popped in your head that you couldn't believe you'd never thought to ask before. Now, on your final day with him, you knew you had to ask. And so, you had him do the Zemo dance. He didn't understand why you found it so funny, asking if his dancing was really that bad. The answer was yes, of course, but it didn't stop the two of you from dancing around like fools for the rest of the time until dinner.
You finished the evening in the living room. You shared stories for a while, conversation flowing naturally between the two of you. Now that you could actually talk, it was an even better experience. Lastly, you turned the TV on, the room growing quiet as the two of you peacefully watched the screen. Soon, that silence turned to one of unspoken understanding. You both knew it was time, but it appeared he was as reluctant to admit it as you were.
"Ms. Arlington."
You stared solemnly at the TV. Leaving him should not have been this hard.
"It's time."
You lifted the remote, shutting the TV off for good. Looking to Zemo, he gave you an encouraging smile, standing and leading the way to the kitchen.
"So how does this work?" you asked as you followed him, "Do I leave or do you?"
"The streets out there are not safe, especially at this hour. I will go, Ms. Arlington. You call your friends when I'm gone, unless you had the good sense to have done it already in order to catch me?"
"When have I ever been sensible?" you smiled.
"More than you're given credit for."
"I uh, I saw that we're still in New York," you said, dodging the compliment, "The other night, when I opened the door."
"Yes, we're not far from the warehouse I used in my red herring with the Avengers the day I took you. If you want to hide in the last place your pursuers would look, choose the house next-door to them."
"Funny how that logic didn't work with me my first time on Asgard."
"Plot armor I suppose. What are our lives if not our own stories? And what are stories without inconsistency and ironic turn of events? Keeps the reader on their toes. And so are we kept on our toes by fate's random choice."
"You practice that before coming down the stairs?"
"I am a villain, Ms. Arlington. Aren't good villains often poetic?"
"I'm not sure villain is a proper term for you anymore."
"I feel hero is equally ill-suited."
"It's like you said. There are no heroes and villains. Just people. Granted, you may have taken that saying in a bit of a darker direction the other night, but, at the core, that statement still stands. Not everyone is one or the other. Most of us are a mix of both."
Zemo smiled, pulling the keys from his pocket and undoing the locks. He then grabbed his coat from where it hung nearby, pulling it on and fixing the collar. When he was done, he held his hands out for you to take it in.
"It's still such a damn good coat," you grinned.
"It really is."
There was an silent pause, both not knowing what to do next.
"Thank you," Zemo spoke first, "For what you tried doing. For what you accomplished. I know it is poor taste for me to say this about someone I've kidnapped, but I'm sad to see you go."
"Is it weird if I give you a hug?"
"From a outside perspective, I think our entire 24 days of pleasant cohabitation would be considered weird."
"Yeah," you laughed with him, "Not your normal abduction relationship."
There was another pause, once again broken by Zemo. This time it wasn't a word, but a gesture. He held out his arms, nodding for you to bring it in. You didn't hesitate, wrapping your arms around him. Out of the many ways you saw this relationship ending a few months ago, this was not one of them.
You were extremely messed up for doing so, but you started crying gently.
"I'll miss you, old man," you said against his chest.
"I'll miss you too, Wren. Or will you snap at me for calling you that?" he sassed.
"No," you chuckled, pulling back to see the grin on his face, "I was getting tired of Ms. Arlington."
"Come now, shedding tears over freedom from your abductor?" he tried to joke, but his eyes were, believe it or not, glistening as well. He just held it in better.
You laughed sadly, wiping away the tears.
"Goodbye, Wren," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, "I'm sorry. And thank you. Go live the life of a hero. And give the Avengers hell for me."
"I do that anyway."
"I'm sure you do."
"Bye, Zemo. Thanks for a great kidnapping...minus my voice and all that. Though we made a pretty good team when it came to talking without talking didn't we?"
"You think no voice would stop you from communicating your point? There's no mistaking what you want to say."
You smiled some more, Zemo turning to open the door.
"Do you think we'll see each other again before I go back?"
"For both our sakes, I certainly hope not," he smirked, "The circumstances of our meetings have always been less than favorable, no matter how enjoyable we turned the situation."
"Well, maybe there's a way that isn't unfavorable?"
"I hope so," he said sincerely, "But if not, know that I will deeply miss our time together. Know that the last 24 days were the best I've had in the last year."
He turned and walked out the door.
"Be careful out there!" you called out to him.
"In the world or New York?" he turned and asked from the street.
"Both I guess."
"This neighborhood in New York is claimed to be protected, or haunted, depending on which locals you talk to. With a name like Hell's Kitchen, I'm inclined to think the latter," he smiled jokingly.
"Well, let the Devil know I said hi if you see him," you waved.
He waved back, before walking off. You watched until he was out of sight, closing the door. You turned the simple lock on the handle, the elaborate additional mechanisms no longer needed. Entering the living room, you stared around the house that now felt empty.
***
Ok, so maybe the TV wasn't off for good. You couldn't help but do what you thought was comedic...hence your reclined position on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie on. The Avengers arrived within the hour, the noise of the kitchen door's latch being busted as they forced it open drawing your attention away from your film.
"You could have just knocked!" you called out, and in came the team.
You'd told Heimdall that it wasn't necessary to send everyone, but it appeared they all came nonetheless.
"Hey!" you smiled as Cap led the charge into the living room.
He stopped mid-stride, looking surprised before smiling and shaking his head. Most found your position amusing, but it may have been a poor decision with others.
"What the hell is this?" Tony asked.
"Terminator 2," you said, "With Arnold Schwarshaneggege."
"I'm sorry, what??" he repeated again.
"Yeah, I know, it's not how you pronounce his name, but you try saying it."
"Wren," Nat warned, though she was grinning.
You turned your attention from the movie, seeing Tony looked less than amused.
"I'm fine," you said, putting the popcorn down and standing to greet them, "But yeah, ok, maybe not the best to be so chill."
"We've been looking for you for weeks!" Loki said, and you couldn't tell if his anger was directed simply at that fact or at you.
"And we find you vacationing in the city!" Tony added.
"I had to do something to pass the time til you got here. I was just being stupid, it's nothing."
"Is this what you've been doing this whole time? Why you never called out to Heimdall?" Loki asked, his voice starting to raise, "We thought you must have been gagged or worse!"
"Easy," Cap stopped him, "Let her explain. Wren, what's going on?"
"I was drugged for the last three weeks. Not the 'knock you out' kind of drug, but something that stopped me from speaking. I'm sorry, I would have called if I could."
"Would you?" Loki shot back.
"Nice to see you too. Sheesh, what's your problem?"
"Maybe that we worry for weeks about what could be happening to you, and we find you relaxing here as if nothing has happened!"
"What, would you have liked to find me chained to a wall, bloodied and bruised??"
"No!"
"Then what's the big deal?? If anything, you should be relieved to find me ok enough to just chill and watch a movie. I'm sorry, ok, I know you all must have worried, so making a joke out of it wasn't the right call. But seriously, I'm ok, and that's a good thing."
"Where's Nemo?" Tony asked, scooping a handful of popcorn as he did.
"He's...he's gone."
"Gone?" Wanda asked.
"And why do you sound sad about that?" Sam added.
"He left. He let me go. We don't have to worry about him anymore."
You couldn't help but say it somberly, the team staring at you for a few silent seconds afterwards.
"Do we even want to know what happened over the last few weeks?" Rhodey asked.
"I do!" Tony raised his hand.
"What, did you get another villain to fall for you?" Sam asked, Loki shooting him a look.
"No he...he decided to stop."
"Just like that?" Tony asked skeptically.
"Just like that."
"There's something you're not telling us," he pressed.
"No, really?" Clint said sarcastically, "I thought he totally just woke up one day with a change of heart?"
"Barton, are you ever going to stay in retirement permanently?" Tony snarked.
"Hell if I know," Clint groaned back.
"What happened doesn't matter, ok?" you said firmly, "He's gone. And he's not going to try again."
"She's safe, and that's all that matters," Thor said, stepping forward to be the first to embrace you, "We've missed you, Wren."
"I missed you too, buddy."
"Did you now?" Loki asked, inspecting the pile of games in the corner.
"Yeah, looks like someone was having fun," Sam agreed, folding his arms.
"Are we really going to keep hating the fact that I wasn't miserable for three weeks?"
"A little more damsel-action would have been nice for our big entrance, but I guess you being ok is the next best thing," Tony smirked, stepping out of his suit to hug you.
"It appears Wren is in good health, which was the main cause for fear. We should consider ourselves lucky we didn't find a less favorable situation," Vis said.
"I'm so glad you're ok," Wanda smiled, pulling you in for a hug.
One by one you greeted or hugged each, though Loki remained outside of these things. You could tell he wasn't happy, and you weren't sure you could blame him. It must be frustrating to struggle to find someone, only to learn they were never really in harm's way. Still, there were worse things to be upset over, and you were slightly hurt at his lack of joy at seeing you well.
"How long ago did Zemo leave?" Tony asked.
"Uh, under an hour, why?"
"Friday, have the lookout nearby for him, check---"
"No!" you cut him off, earning looks from everyone.
"Wren, I know your fascination with villains is all that takes priority with you, but this is what I'm talking about when I say you take it too far!" Tony chastised.
"Wren, if he's responsible for those bombings, it's our job to bring him in," Cap said.
"Is it?" you fired back.
"Excuse me?" Tony said for Steve.
"Wren, he's a criminal," Nat said.
"If we know where he is, it's our job to get him," Rhodey chimed.
"But we don't know where he is. We know where he was. Discovering where he is now would require a certain amount of investigation, and I don't remember you guys getting called in to investigate the bombings?"
"You can't be serious?" Clint asked.
"Unbelievable," Sam sighed.
"Guys---"
"No, Wren, this is a new level of ridiculous, even for you!" Tony cut you off.
"If we run into him some day, I'm not saying you should let him go! I'm saying don't go after him now. It's not our problem."
"Not our problem? He kidnapped you, again," Wanda said.
"And now he's let me go, and he's going to leave us alone. Forget about him. We have so much else to do anyway! How about Vis's surgery? We clearly never got around to that!"
"No, it was put on hold by the man who took you hostage!" Tony sassed.
"I don't know if you're thinking clearly---" Steve started.
"I'm thinking perfectly clearly! I'm thinking we have a stone to remove, another to find, and a Mad Titan to prepare for! Not to mention a few other things, such as Nat's family life. Don't forget we have to address that soon!"
A few looks were passed around, but no one said anything.
"You heard her," Loki spoke, "She's made it quite clear she doesn't wish us to pursue her beloved captor."
He turned swiftly, pushing his way through the others and out of the room.
"If we're not chasing this man, can we go? This place is getting claustrophobic," Clint said, noting the crowded capacity in the room.
Steve looked at you for a few seconds, your eyes pleading with him to drop the hunt.
"Ok," he nodded, "Let's head out."
He led the way out of the room, the others starting to follow.
"Wait, we're just letting him get away?" Rhodey asked.
"I don't like it either. But view it as he's already away and we're just taking a break," Tony said, patting him on the back as he passed.
"Wait, uh..." you said, stopping those still in the room, "Uh, there's this really comfy pair of pants Zemo got me...they're one of my favorites. Can I grab them real quick?"
"What's the hold up?" Tony called from the kitchen door.
"She wants to grab something from her room," Nat answered.
"From Zemo," Sam added, having to be a brat.
You heard Tony mutter a few incoherent words, finally speaking up.
"Tell her to move her ass."
You gave Sam a glare, who, upon seeing it, dropped the smile from his face.
"What?" he asked sincerely.
Wanda just slapped his arm as she and Vis walked by.
"I'll go with her," Thor called to the others as you left for the stairs, making his way after you.
"Soooo...this is where you stayed?" Thor asked, looking around the small room.
"Yeah, what of it?" you smirked, grabbing the pants from your drawer.
"No, uh, n-nothing," he said unconvincingly, "It's um, it's cute...and tiny."
You smiled at the way he looked curiously around the room, as if wondering how someone could live in such a basic house. You walked around the room, checking for anything else you wanted to bring. Your strides stopped in front of your nightstand, where the notebook with your tallies were cataloged. You shouldn't have been sad that you were leaving. You weren't sad. In reality, you hadn't realized how much you missed everyone. You were looking forward to getting out of this house, of returning to your other life. But those tallies marked some good times. Times you and Zemo had made the best of. And the 24th line represented the last day you were, most likely, ever going to see the man who'd slowly become a friend.
"What is it?" Thor asked, walking to look over your shoulder.
"Nothing," you said quickly, closing the notebook and sliding it in the folds of the pants in your hands. "I'm good to go."
"Then let's get out of this dreadful place," Thor said happily, leading the way across the creaky hall and down the flight of stairs. The others were waiting outside. Evidently, the docks for the harbor were not far, and the quinjet had been landed in a opening there. Loki, you realized, remained ahead of the crowd, never once looking back. Your stares didn't go unnoticed.
"My brother will not remain angry forever, I can assure you. Pay him no mind," Thor said from where he walked beside you.
"I don't get what he's so mad about."
"I think it's more the culmination of several emotions," Thor replied, "He was very upset over your disappearance. And I think finding out that he could do nothing to help, for you were in no need of it in the end, only added to his frustrations. I don't think he likes that we've let Zemo go either."
"Yeah, but none of that should equal anger towards me. What did I do wrong? Ok, so I asked them not to go after Zemo. But everything else?"
"Well, Loki isn't one to cry tears of joy and display his relief, now is he? He's angry and upset over the whole situation, which I'm afraid is coming out on you at the moment. Believe me, he's more relieved to see you alive than he's letting on. He looks far more relaxed than he has since you were taken."
"That is far more relaxed?? How bad was it?"
"Bad."
"Oh boy."
The quinjet was soon in sight, and you were shortly embracing Bruce at the end of the ramp.
"I'm so glad we got you all in one piece," he said as you hugged.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't so bad."
You heard Loki huff a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he walked up the ramp.
"What's his problem? I though he'd be happy we got you?" Bruce asked quietly.
"I'll tell you when I find out myself."
"Hey man!" Korg waved from the top.
"Hey!" you said, jogging the rest of the way up to hug him and Miek.
"You're looking quite well for a kidnapping. Was the service there good?" Korg asked.
"Better than one would think."
"That was very nice of the low-life who took you."
"It was, wasn't it?" you smiled, making to walk with Korg into the quinjet.
"Oh, uh, Wren, there's...there's something you should know," Nat said, who was standing just past Korg.
"What?"
You noticed all of the team was standing around the main area expectantly, facing you...all except Loki, of course, who pretended to be ignoring everyone from his seat.
"Well, you mentioned my family and how we have to address that," she started.
"Yeah, and?"
"Well---"
"What are we all standing around for? Did we get her or not?" a familiar voice called from someone exiting one of the other rooms.
The blonde woman, in an iconic white suit, pushed through the Avengers, smiling when she saw you.
"Hiiiii," she said with a head tilt and wave, "Oh, sorry, was I supposed to stand and stare creepily too? Is this a posing thing?" she asked the group that was still quietly observing the interaction.
"Wren, meet my sister. Yelena."