It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both
Soulmates, the idea was sentimental. Some people had words or phrases, some images inked into their skin waiting for their match to touch them to solidify. Every person's soulmark was different even from their partners. Some were platonic, some romantic. Magazines and talk shows loved to wax on and on about unlikely matches finding each other, how one couldn't really ever be complete until they felt the warmth of their soulmate's arms wrap around them.
Such precocious feelings were the stuff of naive children. To Zemo, marks were more suggestions than anything else. It was a suggestion from the universe of people that might help you in your life if you were lucky. Years of intelligence work left him hollow to the idea. People were animals and given the right motivations, they would fall and tear each other apart, inked words on their bodies or no.
Sokovia was an outlier compared to the rest of the world when it came to their view on soulmate matches. There were no special divorces granted to marks and very little fanfare if one matched. Their ballads didn't wax poetically about soulmates dying from a broken heart instead the country and the people made do with what they had.
Sokovia was a harsh country and there was little room for dreams. In the 19th century, they struggled and pulled themselves from poverty and the feudal system with industrialization only for Hydra and the Nazis to tear out the heart of their country in the War. Then came the Soviets to pick apart the still-warm pieces like the vultures they were. There was no time for the American propaganda of soulmates and true love in the Soviet Bloc. There were only the whispered tales fortune-tellers told around the family fire where soulmates were happy miracles when they happened but inevitably ended in sadness. The lesson was the same don't be greedy and give up what you have for what might have been.
Zemo himself had three soulmarks: A falcon on his right wrist, a cracked star on his left wrist, and a lovely copy of a black and white Monet that spanned his shoulders. When he was young his mother used to tease him and said he must grow into quite a looker if the universe intended to throw so many matches his way. It'd been embarrassing then, but three or more soulmates was unusual. Not unheard of but unusual. By the time he was thirty, he'd yet to meet even one of his matches. It seemed the universe was playing a bit of a joke on him.
It didn't matter he married Vanessa. Zemo was proof that one didn't need to find one's soulmate to fall in love and be happy. He was no romantic he was a realist. He'd loved his wife, he'd loved his son.
Vanessa had a platonic soulmate with an old university colleague, Finn. He was a delightfully philosophical man and Zemo enjoyed their family dinners and long drawn out discussions of Ardent's works. Somehow Finn slotted seamlessly into their lives. He wasn't surprised; Vanessa brought out the best in him. Why would her soulmate do any less? When Luka was born two years later Finn was alongside them at the hospital. A happy addition to their lives. He was with Vanessa and their family in his last minutes. He did more for Vanessa than Zemo ever did.
He was a blessing Zemo didn't deserve. It wasn't just Vanessa's voice mail that haunted him.
" Helmut ," The speaker crackled. The sound of a car speeding could be heard in the background, " I know you think it'll be fine since the city is so far but I'm just a bit worried since you're not there. I'm just going to drive over and stay with Vanessa and your parents until you get back. Safety in numbers and all that. See you soon. "
He wouldn't. He'd die tragically alongside Vanessa just like in the old folktales. Zemo had pulled his body from their destroyed castle. In his final moments, he'd been clutching Luka, protecting him. Finn was buried alongside the rest of his family, next to Vanessa, his soulmate.
Where were Zemo's soulmates when his world fell apart?
He'd spent years picking Hydra apart, cutting the heads off one by one and burning the wound closed. To claw his country back from those insidious idealogues. Then in a single day, it all came crashing down. Forty years of fighting, of pain, sweat, and tears buried in the rubble. Everything that his family had been striving for, for generations gone in a snap. His family his lifeblood nothing more than corpses.
Everything had been taken from him by the world and the universe still had the audacity to print suggestions on his skin.
Zemo ran his fingers along the thin lines of the falcon ink the bird spread its wings across his skin. Ten years ago he never would have spent so much time mulling over the question of his soulmates. Now with the same four walls staring back at him for his lifetime, his unruly mind couldn't stop from slipping into these familiar wonderings. He liked to imagine what they would look like. What would have happened if they wandered into his life while his family was still alive? A happy meeting at the bakery with a tourist where he'd invite them home for dinner and perhaps they'd stay in touch.
On his darker days, he couldn't help but wonder if they were someone he's already come across. One of the souls he mercilessly ripped information from in the name of the greater good. He smiles grimly. That would be the cool irony of the universe at work. His soulmates would be helping him then, Zemo always got them to help him in the end. He knows his soul is wrung out by violence. These three people that are supposed to complete him have to be just as twisted. Perhaps they were sitting in jail cells just like this one somewhere in the world.
He'd completed his mission and broken the Avengers apart. Those with superpowers were treated more as weapons than anything else and the world would spend decades fighting about laws and regulations, tearing down the flawed symbols they'd spent so long worshipping. His work certainly wasn't done, but he'd peeled back the layers and brought the symbols to their knees. He would just have to take satisfaction where he could for now.
For the second time in his life after that cursed last phone call from his wife, he knows something is wrong. Sound doesn't penetrate his cell but the fine hair on his arms is standing on end. He looks around his instincts screaming at him but the double doors don't allow him any visibility out into the prison's hallways. He grips his hands into fists and his eyes widen as he looks down at the soulmark on his wrist. Something is wrong with it.
He quickly pulls back both of his sleeves on his right wrist is the dark outline of a falcon and on his left is the simple outline of a star cracked down the middle. At first, he thinks his marks are greying, that his soulmates have died, but the lines don't fade from black to grey. Instead, they fade off of his skin like they were never there, like pencil marks, god decided to erase. The problem is Zemo doesn't believe in god. Zemo pushes his fingers against his skin prodding it. The marks don't return and his skin is left oddly blank.
He doesn't know what's going on. He's killed people before, flayed their soulmarks off of their bodies to make them talk, and soulmates always reappear, usually, in the same place they were before, but if a limb goes missing they'll appear somewhere else on the body. The problem is Zemo hasn't removed his soulmarks. He begins to strip, ignoring the ever-present surveillance camera in his cell. He tugs off the layers of his grey prisoner attire and tosses them on the bed as he begins to search for his marks. He uses the small shaving mirror they've given to search every inch of his skin. There's nothing. His entire body is blank like he never had soulmates at all.
It's five days later before they let them out of their cells. It's only then that he hears from some of the lower priority prisoners what exactly has happened. Aliens and a world left in ruins from half of the population simply turning to ash.
All of his soulmates have ceased to exist.
He can't stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. It's like god has taken offense to his ungratefulness and personally ensures that he truly has nothing. The joke is on god. Is he supposed to be sad for those he's never met?
There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things. Machiavelli certainly wasn't wrong. He puts his head in his hands as the guards order him back to his cell. The officers never seem to enjoy it when he finds things funny. How is he supposed to feel about this? Now billions know his suffering of living without those that give life meaning. He told the world Superheros would fail them but it seems they still weren't ready when it happened.
It's five years later after the blip and one day he looks down and sees dark lines on his wrists. He follows them down the falcon and the star are back. He turns the mirror around to look at his shoulders seeing the familiar splattering of black splotches. His soulmates exist again. He still doesn't know how he feels.
The door to his cell slides open with a light click. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, now cleanly shaven with cropped hair steps into his cell. It is a surprise but not an unwelcome one. It breaks up the monotony that is imprisonment. The living are not done with you yet , that is what T'Challa told him in frozen Siberia and now it seemed it was finally true.
"Longing, rusted," He starts without hesitation, he wonders what the soldier will do. Surely, the man would not have come here and made himself intentionally vulnerable.
"Those days are over now." Ah, it was the man and not the weapon. It was a shame Zemo could use the weapon.
Zemo leans forward, "I know. I just wanted to see how you would react to the old words. Something is still in there." He watches James' face go blank. This was an opportunity. One he wouldn't let pass him by, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. It was never personal. You were simply a means to a necessary end."
He watches for any flicker of emotion, sadness, anger? There's nothing. His stare remains the same. Zemo was sincere in his sentiments. He always was. He was many things but a liar was not one of them. He'd never had any ill will towards Barnes himself but now he was interested to see what type of creature the man had become. He couldn't help it. He wanted to know how he ticked. Prison didn't leave much for self-enrichment.
"Someone recreated the super-soldier serum. I need to find out who." That was the crux of the matter. He suppresses his smile.
"You are assuming HYDRA has something to do with this, which is why you came to me, which means you are desperate." Zemo leans back and closes his book, "Luckily for you, I know where to begin."
They need him. All he needs now is a distraction.
Zemo told Barnes to get whatever he needed and meet him back at one of his storage facilities in Munich to wait for him to escape. Not in so many words, of course, that was the problem with putting spies in prison. They know how to say far too much without saying anything and the poor guards never knew what hit them.
Barnes was far too trusting for someone that was brainwashed for over eighty years. He couldn't possibly be so naive so maybe it was just arrogance that no one would double-cross him with his reputation. No, that didn't sound quite right either. No matter, Zemo would get to the end of this mystery with a bit more time.
He'd already shaved and made a few phone calls. He had a good idea of where to pick up the trail. He sipped a cappuccino he'd picked up on his way over. It was the little luxuries he missed most in prison.
The warehouse was dark and a bit dusty but everything was more or less where he'd left it after the Sokovia incident. He ran his gloved hands over the spines on the bookshelf before selecting crime and punishment and settling down to read. Hopefully, Barnes wouldn't be late.
"You want to break Zemo out of jail?! Are you out of your mind Buck?" A loud voice echoes from the other room.
He recognized the voices that are arguing. One was Barnes and the other, he cocked his head to the side, Sam Wilson, the Falcon. He had expected Barnes to bring more firepower but in catching up with the world it seemed like the heroes were spread more thinly than ever.
In reading over the news it seemed he had missed a lot. Incidents across Europe and the demasking of the young Spider-Man. Mysterio, Zemo doubted he was dead. For anyone looking for it the cracks in the man's narrative was obvious. The fool was a petty showman wrapped up in seeking revenge from a deadman. The motivation was paltry and Stark was dead. Zemo would hunt him down himself for wrecking his way across priceless feats of art and architecture. Typical American. The last thing the world needed was more pointless destruction.
Mysterio would simply have to be on the list of things to look into after he finished this task. The world didn't need superheroes but it didn't need so-called supervillains either.
The falcon. It made sense. Zemo was sure if he reached out and touched him barehanded their marks would color. He hadn't paid much attention to Sam Wilson when he waged his war on the Avengers. He'd been so focused on cracking apart Rogers and Stark that the rest were mere afterthoughts. Pieces that would fall with their leaders. It seemed he made a mistake.
He absently rubs his wrist. It can't be a coincidence. He waits and lets the pair have it out. Barnes really is a terrible liar it was a good thing the man was an assassin and not a spy. After five minutes when the pair still hasn't gotten anywhere Zemo decides it's time to intervene. He steps through the plastic that covers the doorway and flips the lights on.
"Whoa, whoa you can't be he- What are you doing here?!" Sam yells as soon as he sees beyond the uniform to Zemo's face. Sam immediately whirls on Barnes, "What is he doing here?! Why isn't he in prison!"
Look- " Barnes argues pointing at him, "We need him. We have no leads, nothing. He knows all of HYDRA's secrets."
"If I could-"
"No!" They scream in unison. Zemo closes his mouth and watches.
Barnes lowers his voice, "I'm your soulmate whether we like it or not that means something. We might disagree about the shield, but please trust me on this we need him."
They were soulmates. Zemo's mind whirred with the new information. There was so much he could do with that. He'd always wondered about the out-of-time super soldiers if the universe had prepared for as strange a circumstance as that. Apparently, it had.
The two soulmates were having a staring contest. The tension was palpable, but Zemo couldn't tell if they were about to fight or fuck. Whatever they had was delicate and stretched on a thin wire of violence. It was nothing like what Finn and Vannessa had. They must be romantic soulmates then. They were volatile like a chemical mixture tipping ever closer to exploding.
"Zemo's gonna mess with our minds, especially yours. No offense." Well, it seems that Barnes might make questionable plays but his soulmate didn't, fascinating. Zemo felt his hand linger over his right wrist. He was itching for a chance to reach out and touch Sam Wilson. He was curious, would the man cause his soulmark to color? Suggestions of help from the universe. He wonders what kind of expression Sam would make if they were tied. What would Barnes do? It was sure to be interesting based on the tension floating around the room.
"Offense." Barnes snaps back, "You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again."
The two reach another staring impasse. Nothing was going to get done at this rate, and it was taking far too much of his self-control to resist the urge to reach out and touch Sam just to see his reaction. They needed to move and Zemo needed to focus on a problem.
"I really think I'm invaluable…" He intervenes.
"Shut up!" Sam snaps and the contest is broken. Zemo can see the man's shoulders droop slightly the exact moment he accepts their predicament, "Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission."
"Fair," Zemo allows, naive but he'll allow Sam Wilson the illusion of a comfort blanket. They were finally getting somewhere and hopefully out of this goddamn warehouse before he does something stupid just because he can't stand not knowing.
"Okay, Zemo, where do we start?"
They take one of his cars to a private runway just outside Berlin where Zemo already has a plane waiting. He'd called ahead after all.
"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asks as they walk towards the sleek private jet. Is that jealousy he detects?
"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." He can't help the pointed dig.
"Wait you're a Baron?" The man is easy to read usually, he tries to keep his expression hard as a stone wall but even a stone wall tells a story if you know where to look and Zemo spent his life inspecting the cracks. He expects awe when it comes to his wealth but this is something else. Sam's marks, if they exist, must be tied up in his title.
Zemo grins at him, "Baron Helmut Zemo at your service. This is traditionally the part where you bow." The scowl Sam sends his way is delightful. Oh, this is going to be fun.
Oeznik his suit as clean and sharp as ever is waiting by the plane's stairs to gree them, " Young lord, I was so happy to get your call. I knew that the prison wouldn't hold you for long just like your father. Zemo's are far too clever."
Zemo smiles at the old man. It was nice to hear Sokovian again. " It is good to see you again old friend. Thank you for coming. "
Oeznik had served his family since before the occupation. The Zemos had used their wealth and titles to shelter his family from the worst of what the Nazis did while they ran the resistance right under their fascist noses. Bonds of loyalty like that were not so easily discarded.
" Of course, just because the homeland is gone doesn't mean we've forgotten. It is finished by blood- "
" But blood is precious. Let not a drop more fall. " Zemo finishes the slogan of the resistance and he reaches in and gives Oeznik a kiss on his cheek. He can see Sam and James watching him cautiously. He's not sure if James knows it or not, but he doubts Sam does. Americans, they love to parade around the world but never stop to learn anything about it.
"Welcome gentlemen," Oeznik says in accented English, cutting off the unease as he ushers them onboard. Zemo takes the seat closest to the front and watches Sam and James take seats that keep him in clear view.
" Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out. But I will see if there is some good food in the galley ." Zemo smiles and happily takes the flute of champagne, both of his guests decline the offer. It's their loss, it tastes sublime.
" Don't worry. If anything smells off feed it to these two ." Zemo says his eyes flickering to Sam and James.
"I have missed you, sir. " Oeznik chuckles as he shuffles his way back to the kitchenette in the front of the plane.
"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" Sam says still eyeing Oeznik suspiciously. Zemo sighs and flips out his copy of Machiavelli. Hidden in the book is the notebook he'd slipped off of James earlier. Really it was an intriguing combination of lists. Lists of books, movies, names.
"I'm sorry. I was just fascinated by this." Zemo ran his finger down the list of names, pretending to read it. He'd read it already of course on their way over. That wasn't the point of this, the point was to see exactly where the man James Buchanan Barnes ended and the Solider started. "I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?" He flicks his eyes over to James.
He's too slow. James is already across the cabin his vibranimum arm clenched around his neck.
"If you touch that again, I'll kill you." The hand on his neck threatens to push back harshly cutting off his airflow. There was the assassin, not buried that deep after all. James blinks, grabs the notebook, and slides back into his seat. Sam suddenly seems to unfreeze and is watching his soulmate warily.
"I'm sorry. I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier." He can't help but poke the bear further, it's in his nature, gather information no matter the cost.
"Don't push it," James says flatly as he turns his head to look out the plane's window. It seems their conversation is finished.
Zemo folds his hands in his lap as Sam starts a conversation about Marvin Gaye. It seems he underestimated Sam as he steers the discussion back into safer water and he watches the aggression melt out from Barnes. Maybe there was something more to their match.
He chimes in again, just to see Sam's baffled expression about his opinions on Marvin Gaye.
He could sneak off, leave, the two to their own devices, and root out the remaining super-soldier serum on his own. This would not be the first time he ran a solo op.
But no, he would stay and keep an eye on them. They had a common goal after all. He could use them. Besides he thought as he leaned back and smirked, this right now was far more fun.
Zemo enjoys the discomfort in Sam's face. First at the bar. This is why he'd picked the Smiling Tiger alias for the American. Sure, Sam Wilson did share a passing resemblance to Conrad Mack but there were half a dozen other aliases they could have used, but none of them involved Sam Wilson drinking the venom sack of a snake and that was unacceptable. Zemo had decided if he couldn't touch Sam because the man wouldn't let him near enough he would settle for ribbing him to keep the instinct away.
Sam squirmed like a child pretending to eat his vegetables. It was only with years of practice that Zemo kept from laughing. He wishes he had a recording of this.
Alas, pleasure will have to wait it's time for business now and they need to talk to Selby. So Zemo starts a bar fight and then just as easily calls it off getting them their golden ticket upstairs. It's good to be back.
Selby is just as he remembers her. Her hair is shorter and grey now, but her fierce negotiating and bitting small talk is exactly the same.
"Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum." Zemo struts across the floor, the eyes of her bodyguards track his every move. He closes in on James who is doing such a good job of standing still and looking menacing. "And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course." He couldn't resist it when the chance presented itself. There was no way James Barnes would let him touch his person after what happened in the U. N. This would sell his image of control. He reaches over and grasps the soldier's chin his bare fingers brushing over stubble.
An electric shock jolts up his arm as soon as they touch. James's eyes widen a fraction and Zemo knows he must have felt it too as his jaw clenches. Zemo pulls his arm away rapidly, only remembering to swish his coat at the last minute so he can brush it off as drama. He bits back his hiss of discomfort before cutting it off with his planned words: "He will do anything you want."
This was not expected. James Buchanan Barnes is his goddam cracked star. Shit!
Selby laughs, high and airy, "Now that's the Zemo I remember. I'm glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor." She swirls the wine in her glass, "Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or... condemn, depending on what side of this you're on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but... things didn't go as planned."
Zemo's left wrist is still tingling as he forces himself to sit casually on Selby's couch, "Is Nagel still in Madripoor?"
They get a few other crumbs from Selby but then Sam's phone rings. Zemo grinds his teeth. This is why he doesn't work with amateurs. If Sam slips up it's going to be a gunfight and these two didn't even allow him a gun.
A woman, Sarah, is on the other line. Zemo has no idea what her relation to Sam is or why it's so important that she speak to him about a… boat? But Sam seems to be at least piloting the conversation into believable territory although Zemo thinks that threatening to kill bankers is more than a little over the top. Selby seems to buy it though, at least until Sarah calls him Sam. Zemo freezes he can hear kids laughing in the background.
James doesn't freeze though. He whips a pistol out from his jacket and fires a kill shot straight into Selby's left lung. Gunfire erupts around them and Zemo is moving as James makes quick work with the rest of the bodyguards.
"Quickly," Zemo calls ushering everyone into the hallway and towards the exit. All the bounty hunters downstairs will have heard the gunshot as soon as someone sees Selby's dead body everyone on the island will be after them. They have a handful of minutes until it all goes FUBAR.
They make it to the street before the gunfire starts coming in from every direction. They scatter. Zemo can see Sam and Bucky diving into an alleyway as he cuts back. He finds a jagged shard of metal alongside the street and uses it to take down a man that's sneaking up to knife him.
He can barely follow Sam's figure as he darts into another alley. After this is all over Sam and him are going to have a conversation about stealth and having codewords to use for your family to tell if either party on the phone is under duress. This wasn't amateur hour.
A few deadmen later and Zemo has a handgun and is making his way to where Sam and James have disappeared. The side street is too quiet. He finds James in a standoff with a blonde woman. He raises his gun to intercede.
"Drop it, Zemo." The woman's handgun shifts to point at him as smooth as a dancer. Zemo glances at Sam who merely nods. The gun clatters to the cobblestones.
"Sharon?" Bucky asks, shock dripping from his tone.
"You cost me everything." Her gun doesn't budge but her glare shifts from him to James.
"Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead."
"That explains why you guys are here." Her eyes flicker between the three of them in turn. Zemo but he knows better than to open his mouth with Sam and James seem to have some sort of trust with this woman. Whoever she is, she is at least skilled. Zemo admires the three dead bodies in the alley. He'd assumed they were James's handy work, but on second look they had precise bullet holes. It looked like it was their overhead angel that had done the honors.
"So what are you doing here?" Sam asks, his hands are up in a defensive posture, but he doesn't seem especially worried.
"I stole Steve's shield, remember?" She snaps, "I also took the wings for your ass," She moves the gun to point at Sam, "So that you could save his ass," her gun flicks to James, "From his ass" Her aim lands back on him, "Unlike you, I didn't have the Avengers to back me up. So I'm off the grid in Madripoor."
It appeared that things were not as friendly as Sam might have hoped with this new contact. Still, the relation was becoming clearer the longer she talked. She's someone else that worked with Captain Rogers. He could work with this. It was obvious the woman was bitter.
"Hey, don't blow that smoke at me. I was on the run, too." That would be a foul. Zemo watches the blonde's face shut down. It was the wrong thing to say to their contact. Zemo wishes he could interject, but he honestly thinks the woman will shoot him. She seems angry enough.
"Was. Is. Big difference. I don't speak to my family anymore. I can't. My own father doesn't know where I am." Each word is biting. She's been forgotten. Left to struggle by her so-called friends.
"Listen... Sharon, we need your help." It's James that tries this time.
She laughs and her gun doesn't waver off of him, "I don't want to hear anything from you! You have the gall to ask me for help when you never even checked on me."
"Why would he check on you?" Sam asks. Sharon yanks down her sleeve and in short blocky letters right below her elbow are the dark silver words: Bucky. Hmm, James and their unexpected savior were a match then. It seems his match was just as unusual as him. Three soulmates, some people might even consider that lucky.
"Oh," Sam says flatly.
"Yeah, oh." Sharon aggressively tugs down her sleeve, "Got this colored in Vienna. After he," her glare is once again pointed his way, "Triggered him."
Well at the rate this night is going Zemo really isn't sure he can make her any angrier if he says something. They need to get off the streets now. They can sort over this little love triangle later. They've already been out here too long.
"Please," James asks again. He opens his mouth like he wants to say more but then closes it instead.
She growls and then lowers her gun, shoving it into her holster, "Fine but this isn't over. I have a place in High Town. You'll be safe there for a while." With a flourish of blonde hair, the woman turns and struts out of the alley.
"It seems you're just finding soulmates wherever you go today James." He murmurs as he passes by and heads to where this Sharon woman is already sitting in the front seat of a running car. He doesn't miss the loud metallic clang of James punching a dumpster.
Zemo has to admit he's a bit impressed. The woman has certainly made a life for herself in High Town. She leads them into a penthouse suite.
Sam lets out a low whistle, "Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well."
Zemo begrudgingly agrees. Glass views of the city line three of the walls of her living room and in her two-story loft are floor-to-ceiling glass displays of art. Just from the entryway, he can see two Picassos and a Van Gogh.
Sharon shrugs her coat off and hangs it in a closet, "At some point, I thought if I had to hustle, I might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I'll get for a real Monet?"
Zemo's attention piques at the word Monet. He was always partial to Monet paintings and not just because of his soulmark. The man was a master with color. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to gaze at an authentic painting regardless of circumstances.
"Easy," Sam chuckles, "Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets."
Sharon raises an eyebrow at him as she walks down the hall. Zemo has to admit he rather likes her. She has a sense of a style he could respect.
"No. She means real." Zemo murmurs as he walks by, "This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork." Poor, poor Sam. His lack of education about the underground left much to be desired. It was alright Zemo had plenty more to teach him before he went on his way. He can hear the poor man spluttering behind him.
Zemo ignores him, his eyes roaming over the artwork. There in the center of the room was a familiar Monet painting. It looked even more stunning in color than it did in black and white. He reached out and rested his hand against the protective glass.
"How much for this painting?" He asked, his eyes didn't leave the delicately balanced colors of the flowers. Isn't it funny how he can go forty years without meeting a single one of his soulmates and then in the span of three days all of them come parading in front of him?
He hasn't touched her yet. He's been careful with his gloves but the hint from the universe is more than enough. He wonders what is inked across her skin to match his. If it was his name it should be obvious, neither Helmut nor Zemo are common, and she obviously knew him from Vienna. He considers her. Sam is straightforward, James is not ready to admit what he is, but she's a closed book to him. A new puzzle to figure out.
Sharon gives him a piercing look. She's too shrewd of a woman to not notice something is up.
"I thought we were here to find the super-soldier serum." Sam injects and Sharon looks away, nothing else to read in her expression, "Besides a lot of good this painting is going to do you when you go back to prison."
"Sam, when one comes across something as lovely as this one has to take advantage of the opportunity."
"That one's not for sale." Sharon says as she steps into her room, "Now get ready guests will be arriving soon."
Sam's marks are simple. Zemo gets a good look as Sharon leaves them alone in her closet to find men's clothing that fit. They say Baron, Soldier, and Spy. They're gracefully sprawled out across his back in a way that extenuates his muscular shoulders.
Zemo almost feels bad for him. All the descriptions are rather generic. Sorting a soulmate out of that must have been like finding a needle in a haystack. Soldier is a deep red color. The other two words are still black. Ah, it seems Sam hasn't touched Sharon either despite their shared history.
"Shall we talk about it then?" Zemo asks as he carefully hangs up his coat.
"Talk about what?" Sam says as he shifts through the rack of dress shirts.
"So that's a no then."
Sam doesn't say anything and he doesn't turn around. The only sound is the light scraping of metal hangers against the bar. Zemo fingers the falcon on his wrist. He doesn't want to acknowledge it. It's reasonable. For the first time, Zemo looks down at the broken star. It's a deep red. The same color as Sam's Soldier mark.
Sharon comes back into the room and lays a black blazer on the bed. She looks Sam up and down, now that he's out of the orange patterned suit Zemo dressed him in. "Much better," Sharon says her eyes lingering on Sam's pecks. Zemo frowns in offense. His suit had been very flattering, not that he would argue that Sam would look good in black. Agh, American's and their unwillingness to be fashion-forward.
He catches James staring from across the room. His look is unmistakably one of longing. James has been avoiding him. He's lingering as far as he can and always in a position to leave. If they do end up in a room together like now James is careful to ensure everyone else is there. If he thinks Zemo won't bring up the recent development in their relationship in a room where everyone is soulmates he is sorely mistaken. He won't right now but that is purely because this might end up being better than those historic dramas his wife loved to watch. It has nothing to do with the fact that his stomach twists in guilt when he looks down at his left wrist. Nothing at all.
Zemo watches the way Sharon's eyes linger on Sam's mark as she exits. There's no way Sam can't at least not suspect. Not with Sharon's display earlier and them sharing soulmates.
What's clear to him now is that they're a quartet. Four distinct marks, each person with a unique match pointing them towards the other three people in the room. No one in this room is a dead end and that is infinitely rarer than having three soulmarks.
The evening draws on and Zemo is enjoying the way Sam, Sharon, and James dance around each other. He's waiting for it to come to a head as it inevitably will. They have another hour to kill after all fashionable parties in Madripoor start at 2 am.
It's Sam that makes the first move. Zemo had been watching him squirm under the tension and aggressively eat take-out for the last half hour.
"What's going on, Sharon? You deserve to be back in the states as much as anyone after what you've done for our country. I know broody cyborgs over there isn't much of a prize, believe me, I know, but maybe if you'd have been with us you could have kept the genius over there from waltzing into a german prison and breaking a terrorist out. Don't you ever wanna come back home?"
Sharon doesn't even look up from her phone, "They'll lock me up if I step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn't allow extradition."
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't call, but after The Blip and the chaos, I just…" Sam trails off.
"You know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?" Sharon says looking up, "I mean, the way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it's all hypocrisy."
Zemo smiles as he flips through the mail Sharon left out. He thinks he could really come to like Sharon Carter and her acidic tongue, "He knows. And not so deep down."
Sharon's gaze brushes over him like she didn't even hear him as she locks on to her new target, "By the way, how is the new Cap?"
"Don't get me started," James says from where he's collapsed on the couch. His form is sprawled out bonelessly. He looks tired.
She scoffs as she approaches Bucky, "Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend."
James opens and closes his mouth before turning to Sam, "Wow. She's kind of awful now."
"I really don't know if you have much room to talk robocop. You're lucky she didn't leave your ass out on the street."
"You're lucky I didn't leave all of your asses out on the street," Sharon corrects. "Anyways this guy Nagel works for the Power Broker. You should really steer clear of this for your own safety."
Zemo rolls his eyes at that. They're in far too deep to stop now. He wants to know what her angle is. She must harbor some sentiment for her old colleague and soulmate but that can't be the only reason she's helping them. Not, when she seemed just as happy to shoot them as to save them earlier. What a complicated woman.
"We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared."
Zemo winces that wasn't the leverage of persuasion he would have started with. He would have started by offering to pay her for assistance on an island of bounty hunters money talks. Of course, Sam seems far too honest for that type of deal. He may now see the flaws in the shield but that doesn't mean he'll give up his pesky morals. It's certainly an area they have for improvement.
"You haggling with my life?"
"Not like that." Sam backtracks.
"I don't buy that. You're pretending like you can clear my name."
"Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you're right. What happened to you. But I'm willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he's met."
"I heard that." James gripes sleepily from the couch.
"I don't trust charity," Sharon says, her eyes narrowed as she stares down the Falcon.
"All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your name cleared."
She gives him a searching look before she nods her head in agreement, "Fine. Shake on it." She holds out her hand and Sam takes it. Zemo can see the exact moment they touch. They both jolt from the shock of electricity as their soulmarks color.
"Oh," Sam says.
"Yeah, oh." Sharon says, "Nice to finally meet you soulmate."
"You," his head swivels to James who is now watching with interest, "Me, and the bionic staring machine, huh? That really is some trio."
Sharon laughs, "Yeah, leaves something to be desired doesn't it?"
Zemo doesn't miss the split second where James' eyes flicker over to him. He smiles toothily at his soulmate. He'll keep their secret. Not much to gain from it here anyways. Besides by the time James finally confronts him he might, might finally have worked out what to say.
"I came out first. You are supposed to follow me."
"And where are we now?"
"Guys, not the time!"
Zemo can hear the three of them arguing even with the ringing of the explosion in his ears. Honestly, they squabble like children. How did any of them survive war zones?
He could leave them. His three soulmates all huddled behind shipping container scrap. He's free he could leave them to death and take his freedom. But the universe has suggested these three idiots to him and he wants to know why.
Instead, he sighs and pulls on his mask. He climbs up on top of the steel conex, stepping towards the far end. From this angle, he can see seven gunmen dotting the shipyard. He lifts the gun he found in the lab and aims it towards the large exposed gas pipe in the center of the yard. He fires once and watches as the explosion takes out the men below. He can already see Sharon leading the charge as his three soulmates break cover and dart towards the far end of the yard.
He jumps down from the container and follows shooting any stragglers he finds along the way.
He knows it won't be forever, soulmates never are. But for now, he will stay and see where this goes. He'll take the universe's suggestion and see what comes of it, starting with saving his three idiot soulmates that can't seem to plan themselves out of a paper bag.
Authors note: Ah, yes the completely unasked for disaster AU where Bucky and Sam are two soulmates that share a single brain cell, their other soulmate Sharon is the BAMF, and their fourth soulmate Zemo should probably be locked in the basement as he's not fit for society. Yeah, I think I might have to write some more for this ship. Also in this verse Zemo totally buys Sam's boat. He can say he's not attached however much he wants but the fact of the matter is he never wants to hear about the damn boat during a mission ever again. It would probably go something like this.
Sarah: Sam where on earth did you get the money for this?
Sam: Money for what?
Sarah: The boat duh. Yeah a well dressed friend of yours came by took us to the bank and bought it outright. He gave me the signed deed and everything. He had some fancy title the bankers were practically scrambling around to lick his boots. Rich white people are something else?
Sam: Well dressed- that Motherfucker!
It's my headcanon that Zemo would not be able to stand Mysterio. Zemo hears one thing about Mysterio wrecking the opera house in Budapest and he's got a personal vendetta.
Zemo: I can't let that stand. It's all show and no substance. He's going on the list.
I do seriously think that artsy, manipulative, ends justify the means Zemo would have serious beef with Mysterio who is out for personal gain.
Also I don't know if Zemo's wife or kid had names in canon if they do I don't remember and opted for Vanessa because men married to a Vanessa in Marvel seem to take crazy drastic measures: Wison Fisk, Wade Wilson, etc.