open post/overflow;; i really think i'm invaluable.

[helmut]

Comments

sexting overflow; longingrusted

[helmut]

(( continued from here ))

Precisely that. Forgive me, I know the futility of imagining alternatives to the path we are now on but I seem to want little more than to imagine the version of events where we have known each other years instead of days. A lifetime is a long time, James. Maybe too long to spend with someone who is merely a business partner.

When in prison, one has very little to entertain himself. I have spent years imagining these ends, of what I would have done had I not allowed myself to be caught. I’m not sure you would like the answer. Perhaps it’s a similar question you find yourself with. What do you do once the shield is recovered and Walker is stripped of his power? Once you have brought Karli Morgenthau to justice?

What purpose does my life still hold, having finished my work? I’m not sure there is one.

[longingrusted]

I have no qualms with futility. I think that if we had years instead of days, we both would have been all the different for it. Maybe your mind would have settled before you felt the need to bring your vision to the world. In that, maybe you would have found a kind of peace that didn't involve some of the choices you made. And maybe I could have found my own peace with you.

No, I doubt that I would have enjoyed the answer then. I know what happens when someone has too much time to think about the ways in which they felt wronged by the world and how they could imagine their vengeance. What I do is I go home to an empty apartment, an empty life. The last few days have made me feel more alive than I have in a long time.

I can't answer that for you except to say that your interests went beyond the serum. You know more about that part of the world than even I do. Maybe I'll need information again. Or maybe just conversations.

i drinks my ep5 angst piping hot

[helmut]

There is no knowing exactly how different we would be, but I imagine I would feel differently about super soldiers. Maybe I would feel differently about power and who should have it. I would not have suffered losses in that universe, and maybe you would not have, either. Then there would have been no vision of mine to bring, if my will were not so dominated by justice and revenge.

I suppose all we have left to us are slowly limiting options. I don't wake in my German jail cell and you don't sleep in your empty apartment. What we have is here, right now. You should know I have not felt such enjoyment in life in many years. I have you to thank for that. I'm grateful.

[ there's a pause here, no ellipses to imply zemo's typing or retyping his response. what he is is thinking, internalizing the implications behind bucky's words.

zemo's future narrows by the minute. he sighs, eyes closed, the sound soft. ]

So long as I'm able, I'm always available for you, James. Conversations, information, or otherwise.

the best part of waking up

[longingrusted]

That's the power and weakness in hypotheticals. Maybe I would have changed your mind but then the whole world would be different. An undivided Avengers, a shift of power and maybe the outcome would have been the same in another way. Is it comforting to think of a better world or one made worse? Sometimes, I can't tell the difference.

The walls close in and those options start to limit. I can't charm Ayo enough to make her turn a blind eye to you. I think maybe I would if I could, which is a terrifying idea. I can see what's coming just as clearly as you can. And in spite of myself, I'm grateful too. Maybe I wasn't in the literal walls of a jail but sometimes that's how my life feels. I found that I've enjoyed myself with you and I never would have expected that.

Then that's what I'll hold onto. The world turned its way to bring our lives back together once. It can do it again, especially if we both push it along in the right direction.

[Accidental or intercepted text]

[mysterioisthetruth]

Do I need to remind you this has to outshine anything Stark Industries could ever imagine? Even his memory needs to be buried so the name of Tony Stark fades into obscurity forever.

[helmut]

[ well. now that' an unusual text to accidentally receive from an unknown number. zemo's brows raise.

who else would be talking so openly about the avengers in this way? his thumbs hover before tapping out a reply. ]

I don't suppose you would like to tell me who you are before issuing such a reminder?

[mysterioisthetruth]

What? Don't play games with me.

[He thinks he's talking to one of his crew.]

[helmut]

[ so much to glean from so few words.

impatience. a dominating personality. arrogance, probably. but a grand vision zemo would share if he knew who he shared it with. ]

I would be bold to play games with a stranger. Especially one who shares my ideals.

[jamesbbarnes]

[ scowling aplenty, bucky sat down on his temporary bed. not trusting anything or really anyone. at least texting zemo would be less frustrating than having to be in his presence. ]

How many connections do you have here? I know you know more than you're giving out. You must have another plan. A couple more. Or do you really want to go back to prison?

[helmut]

[ when his phone pings, it's only a little surprising to see the identity of the sender. only because he's not known james to be shy. if he wants information, james finds a way to get it, fast.

but then again, he's not exactly forthcoming, either. ]

I was never a spy in the traditional sense, but I know when to play my cards close.

I'm not planning anything. Merely arranging opportunities that we will all benefit from. You, me, Sam. We share a common goal, remember?

[jamesbbarnes]

[ if anything the scowl deepened on his face and while he wanted to refrain from engaging you knew he couldn't. there were more reasons than just for information, however. ]

I can't imagine there is much traditional about you, especially not now.

You are always planning something. You expect me to believe you won't hand me over or try to screw over Sam if it benefits you? I don't for a second believe your goal is our goal. You just saw an opportunity and decided to go with it to best serve what you actually want.

What is it you want, Zemo?

[helmut]

Who am I to hand you over to? Had I wished to feed Sam to the dogs, I would have had my chance with Selby. No, it's you who dictates the terms. I am merely along for the ride.

I'd like Egyptian cotton bedding. Brut Rosé, chilled. And a few more nights of quiet. What you wanted was information, and a guide to point you in the right direction.

Do be careful, James. Or you may give me the impression I hold the power here.

Hey

[sergeant_of_winter]

I'll clean it up later.

o hey

[helmut]

James.

Let me know if there's anything you want tweaked here

[restoral]

[ Bucky hadn't had as direct of a hand in getting Zemo out this time, but it's hard to forget how smart Zemo is. He's the man who'd managed to smoke Bucky out after two years of flawless flying under the radar. It had taken very little to help Zemo get out the first time and it's no surprise to see that he only stays locked up until he has a reason not to be.

So, yeah, Bucky knows what he's getting himself into when he follows the cryptic note he finds on his refrigerator scrawled in Zemo's now-familiar handwriting.

He wants to believe that there's nothing sinister at play here. The two of them are on some sort of even not-grudge-fueled playing field, even if their goals aren't entirely the same, and Bucky doesn't think Zemo would go out of his way to actually hurt Bucky, even if he probably would use him.

The address is the same place they'd been staying in Latvia when they'd been chasing Karli, which means Bucky knows there's at least one secret tunnel out of the place. ]

You're going to owe me for this. I had to convince people I was going on a vacation and then lose the tail I got from that being an obvious lie.

[ That's all the hello he's ready to give for now. ]

all gouda!!

[helmut]

[ among the degenerates of the world, the raft has a reputation for two things: one, that it's a maximum, maximum security prison with a complete absence of privacy or dignity for its prisoners, and two, that it's too susceptible to breakouts.

part two of its reputation should inform part one, zemo thinks, but it hardly matters. once the security is overridden - a gift from an anonymous benefactor - he's able to force the structure to lift out of the ocean. from there, it's a simpler matter of reclaiming his confiscated possessions, stealing a helicopter and flying it through a choppy, angry storm back to freedom.

on solid land, zemo finds his way across eastern europe, in trains and cars until, finally, he opens the door to the gulf-stained air in riga. he takes a deep breath, and hands deep in his coat pockets, disappears in the alleyway between two connected businesses.

darkness blankets the tunnel system underneath his vacation home. it feels like a half ancient place, some walls a smooth, nearly machined stone, the others the jagged, natural edge of cliff walls. when james' voice calls out, zemo feels himself take a breath, nearly in relief. ]

Now, when was the last time you went on holiday?

[ revealing himself, zemo steps into the light of torches he'd left on earlier that day. his chin raises, smile arching the corners of his mouth. ] And don't say it was two weeks ago. Chasing an anarchist across greater Europe with me by your side hardly constitutes a relaxing time.

[restoral]

[ Wakanda, Bucky thinks, is the closest he's gotten on this side of the war, but that only complicates this, so he tries to push it from his mind. Ayo is going to be even more angry this time and he can't blame her. ​]

We don't all relax with champagne and caviar, Baron.

[ The words could have bite in them--they should--but there's an edge of teasing to it that he instantly regrets. He doesn't care about any of this dumb fancy crap, but Zemo's not wrong. Bucky's done a lot more hiding and throwing himself into distractions than he's done actual relaxing. ]

Is that what this is? A holiday?

[helmut]

[ zemo's smile pulls further back on his face, but it's more of a sneer or a wince than something with real humor. he adjusts the gloves on his hands, tugging them at the wrist as he considers james' question. ]

Not a holiday. Unless you'd like it to be.

[ and then things would get even more interesting. james barnes, vacationing with convicted terrorist helmut zemo. the headlines they'd make. the thought earns a sharp exhale of a laugh. ]

Would you like it to be? I have you to thank for my newfound freedom, don't I? [ he tilts his head. ] Again. I assume you have a reason to summon me, otherwise you have gone to great lengths for a social call.

→ insomnia; you've got the devil on your shoulder.

[armeyets]

[ when he'd first set off on this self-imposed mission to make things better, to make amends, he never thought he'd be doing it beside baron helmut zemo.

but zemo's resources are there. the knowledge and experience is there, and bucky's accustomed to making use of an efficient weapon when it's in front of him. sam had headed back stateside to tie up the last of their loose ends with the flagsmashers, and when he'd left, his brow had been crinkled in concern with a wary, are you sure, man? and bucky had only scoffed in return. i can handle some rich guy in a fur coat.

because they've still got work to do, barnes and zemo, and that work never ends: cut off one head, two more shall take its place. trying to eradicate HYDRA is like tearing out a persistent weed that just keeps biding its time and growing back to overrun the garden, and the garden is europe. they're forming a wary kind of alliance. there's a job that needs doing, and maybe bucky can't be picky about choosing his allies. that clear-cut searing black-and-white morality of the forties has been gone for a while now, after all, buried somewhere in ambiguities and shades of grey and blood on his own hands.

so their time together stretches out, as they're holed up in yet another pied-à-terre, another one of the baron's countless luxurious apartments scattered across the continent. bucky's always a restless sleeper, and this plump mattress is a far cry from a hardwood floor in a lower east side apartment. the rooms are dusty, in need of airing out and clearly haven't been used in the better part of a decade, but the unused apartment is still huge. his whole family, parents and four kids and all, could've lived here and had room to spare. it's infuriating.

he's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the long minutes tick away. the mattress is too soft. he can't sleep. he wonders if he should just curl up on the carpeted floor, and maybe that'll help.

but finally, bucky just heaves a frustrated sigh and swings himself out of the bed, and goes padding out towards the kitchen in defeat. they'd stocked up on supplies, so he figures he can either find some liquor or some kind of overcomplicated flowering tea which zemo insists is, quote, both good for the digestion and for restfulness, unquote. he stalks out, footsteps creaking on the unfamiliar floorboards, but then goes still once he sees a pool of light in the main room. for a fleeting second, he suddenly pictures the other man sitting in an armchair in the darkness, petting a white cat.

this is so fucking stupid.

when bucky walks further out into the room, he's rearranged his body language; still strung taut with tension, his jaw set, but he's trying to look aggressively nonchalant. (it doesn't really work.) it looks like zemo's just doing some late-night reading, but bucky doesn't realise yet exactly what. ]

Still up? No butler around to fluff your pillows for you?

[helmut]

[ the work rarely ends with one death.

helmut zemo has learned this the hard way. as the head of EKO scorpion, if he took his men deep into sovereign territory, wiped out one mastermind at the head of a terrorist organization, it would not have the intended effect of dismantling said organization. instead, it may throw the group into a scramble, and in a power vaccum, that power does not stay untouched for long. someone fills the void as soon as it's available. power shifts, it morphs.

james barnes knows this better than anyone. while zemo does not command the man like one of his squadmates, james is still a dutiful soldier. deadly. efficient. knowledgable. together, they make a more than formidable team.

when zemo stops to think of it too long, he finds himself thrilled with their current predicament: he and james together, alone with nothing but scraps of intel and cash and fine restaurant meals hand delivered to their door. it settles on zemo like the weight of an aged scotch, the looseness of alcohol coursing through his system. it strikes him sometimes when he wakes to find james perched on a leather sofa, when zemo arranges for clothing purchases, james' measurements deduced only through the power of astute observation.

(zemo is always right about the fit, even without confirmation.)

knowing james is part of zemo's own, personal work. part and parcel to this arrangement of stamping out the remnants of HYDRA. it means he's always making mental notes, looking for vulnerabilities and openings. it also means he can't help himself when he pretends to slip too closely to james as they pass each other in the attached kitchen one day, brushing up against james' body in a way that makes the man bristle, enough that he doesn't notice that zemo's other hand has successfully lifted a small notebook from his back pocket.

zemo knows better than to read it right away. so he waits, and when sleep does not come for him like it ought to - such a change of scenery, even for the better, doesn't help settle the fight response in zemo's body - he rises up out of bed, gathers a robe, and settles himself at the head of the dining room table. it was his favorite place as a child, and that hasn't changed nearly thirty years later.

when james walks in to join him, zemo makes very sure he does not meet the man's eyes for a moment, too engrossed in the pages of the notebook to deign james worthy of his immediate attention. even though james is more than worthy, perhaps the only person he's met worthy of his deepening fixation.

he does, at least, offer james a humorless smile that fades quickly. ]

As someone who was not conscious through his imprisonment, you would not know that there's not much sleep to be had in prison. [ he flips a page and settles the book down under one primly folded hand, trapping it against the table. not enough to hide the item, but enough to pique curiosity. ] There is so much noise. But here... there is nothing but quiet. It's a disconcerting notion to know that I've become accustomed to chaos. As you no doubt surely are.

[ james is awake, looking like he doesn't sleep for more than a few hours in general. and the hours he does get do not a thing for the man's appearance and mood. ]

You don't sleep either, do you?

[armeyets]

No. I don't.

[ each word is often curt and bitten-off around the other man, like an animal defensively snapping its teeth. it's like he's living each day in a cage with a tiger, its glinting eyes watching him like one might eye a particularly savoury meal, and so bucky never fully relaxes here.

it's something in the way zemo sizes him up, with the full awareness that zemo knows, he knows the unvarnished reality of what the soldier is and what he's done and can do. zemo had held those cards in his hands, after all; had pulled the levers and pressed the right buttons to manipulate him. just because that particular lever didn't work anymore doesn't mean he'll never find another way. so in the meantime bucky's just riding the crest of that wave, balancing on the edge of it, letting it carry him as far forward down their mutual mission as he can before he trips and drowns.

and he's on a tight leash in the meantime. wearing clothes tailored to zemo's specifications, eating food he's paid for, sleeping in his apartments. (had bucky's current bedroom been zemo's, once upon a time? an uncomfortable idea. he doesn't like to think about it.)

they make for a strangely domestic picture tonight, though, and the awareness of it prickles along the edge of his skin. zemo and his ridiculous silken dressing robes, while the american is just wearing pyjama pants and a worn t-shirt, the metal arm visible. vulnerable, bucky thinks, but he'll wield that nonchalance as if it can banish that shifting unease of looking so pared-down and human around each other. so, making himself at home, he goes straight for the cabinets and rattles around in them until he finds a bottle of eye-wateringly expensive scotch. pours himself a glass; hesitates with his fingers on the rim of a second glass, considers politely offering zemo his own alcohol to drink, but then just takes a swig of it himself instead. leans back against the kitchen counter and watches the other man.

much as bucky hates to admit it, he does have a point. the winter soldier slept through most of his confinement. ]

Okay. I'll bite. So how did you kill time in the Raft?

[ his gaze follows the line of the other man's elbow, the book under the hand. ]

Reading? Listening to, what, opera?

[helmut]

[ james' brusqueness draws out a wry smile. even in this state, unarmed and clothed in mulberry silk, zemo keeps james alert and on edge. through no fault of his own, even - zemo does his level best to provide everything james might want or need, and keeps as much distance as he thinks is required.

mostly, anyway. sometimes one has to nearly bump right into the man and pick his pocket just to satiate his curiosity. but zemo keeps those instances to a bare minimum.

he does, however, watch james closely any chance he gets. like right now, watching james rifle through the cabinets, passing by any and all food to go right for the alcohol. not surprising - zemo himself exhibits a similar predilection - but there's a certain kind of spite and enjoyment in james as he pulls down the decanter from the cupboard and pour himself a sizable glass. it's what zemo imagines, anyway, staring at james' back and shoulders.

relaxing himself, zemo leans back in his seat, hand still clasped over the notebook with another smile. ]

Books we are usually allowed, unless we misbehave. [ there's a pause and a glint in his eye as he says it before continuing. ] Music was more of a special privilege. There is no natural light at the Raft, you know. It's all artificial. Lights are on almost every hour. There is no library, no yard where we get to walk around and stretch our legs. Most of my time was spent keeping myself centered rather than entertained.

[ his eyes have wandered, but zemo doesn't dare to let his mind spend too much time back in that place. compared to solitary in germany, the raft is a place where men's souls go to die. or where their resolves strengthen.

his eyes land on the glass in james' hand for a long moment. ]

How much of that do you need to drink in order to feel its effects?

tfln overflow; vypolnyat

[helmut]

( cont )

[ now there's something zemo can pounce on. something that can't be read about in biographies, that can only come from the man himself. ]

I tried many times to imagine all the aspects of life that would have become difficult for Steve Rogers to adjust to once he was pulled from the ice. Technology and medicine is nothing compared to how society has changed between 1945 and now. The same applies to you.

How were they different? Did you use different tactics with men? I can imagine the coyness to be quite appealing when used on women, less so with men.

Re: tfln overflow; vypolnyat

[vypolnyat]

steve didn't get to watch things happen, though. not as much as i did.

[ which isn't actually all that much, if you count how often he was frozen, but he still kept up somewhat. his handlers also kept him briefed on important changes when it came to tech, weapons, and the like. society, though? that was something entirely different. ]

it's hard to explain

fellas back then couldn't be open about this shit. it wasn't about being coy or flirting with them. do that with the wrong one and you'd get your teeth knocked out

[ it's always a little strange, discussing things from back then. it feels like it just happened, even though it was an entire lifetime ago. ]

i got real good at sneaking around. using hand signals. once you figured out who was into it things were pretty direct. not like we had the luxury of dating or anything

[helmut]

Steve didn't get to watch anything happen. But neither did you. Not in any meaningful way.

[ and this, zemo is very conscious of. he might not know the extent to which james was present when the soldier was released from his icy prison, but he can imagine the changes in time were dealt with matter of fact and without preamble. ]

No, of course you could not be open. Even in my home, I was discouraged from seeking affection from other young men. I learned to have private rendezvous, trysts that my friend Oeznik helped me to cover. I found a way to cope as you did, as all the men who slept with did.

Did you ever want to date them? Or have something beyond a sexual encounter? Did you want romance?