Helmut shut the book that he was reading with an audible snap. He stretched out of his position on the bed to put the book on the metal table nearby. He was reading it for the past hour and a half, making his eyes dry out enough for it to become a slight annoyance. Dropping his feet from the edge of the bed onto the ground, he sat up. He could hear his back cracking as he stretched out. Truly, prison was bad for his back and posture.

Helmut sighed and brought his hand to his eyes, rubbing the strain away. He dragged his hand down his face, feeling a few days worth of a stubble that covered his cheeks. Ivana would've already pestered him to shave it off, preferring a clean shaved look on him. He didn't disagree with her on that but without the constant comments, it was harder to remember or find the motivation to shave every couple of days. Days tended to blend in together when you're confined to a small room by yourself for most of the time. The cell itself collected small knickknacks over the couple of years that he was incarcerated, almost looking like someone was living here. A number of newspapers, books, playing cards, a small radio, and a worn-out chess board filled his space. Getting his belongings back, post-Snap, was somewhat a tiring experience, even with the little influence around that he had. From what he heard, almost half of the prison had been snapped away, creating chaos when everyone returned. It was surprising to blink and find someone else living in his cell because somehow five years had passed. They shared a cell for almost two weeks while the facility tried to relocate both prisoners and guards that appeared out of nowhere.

Helmut glanced over at the abandoned Chessboard that sat on top of the table. While he won it out of another prisoner a while back, it sat untouched for the last couple of days. At some point, playing chess against yourself just becomes boring. He rose from his bed. Reaching, he took a Bishop off the board and twirled it between his fingers. It was nothing compared to the set that he had back home. The paint had chipped off the edges and the small, wooden piece had dents in it.

"Ready to give up?" He raised his eyebrow. Nic hadn't made a move for the last five minutes and from the looks of it, wasn't going to make another one anytime soon. They sat by the fire, at the opposite sides of the chess table. The board had both ebony Chess pieces and Checkers on top of it.

Their games started off as simple rounds of Checkers months ago, since Carl wanted to play as well but didn't understand the intricacies of chess quite yet. But overtime, the two of them, incorporated the chess pieces into the game, made their own rules. They might have accidentally created a brand new game that neither Carl nor Ivana understood or cared for. So it became their pastime before dinner whenever he was home from the army.

"No, I got this," Nic mumbled through her hands as her eyes scanned through the board. He had her cornered on almost every front, they both knew it, but Nic wasn't someone who just gave up. Ivana was convinced and often complained that she was a mini version of him, but he had to disagree. The level of stubbornness that Nic possessed at times did not come solely from him alone.

"Care to make a move then?" He egged her on, leaning back on the leather wingback chair and crossing his legs. An hour had already passed since they started the game.

"I'm considering all my moves," Nic grinned and moved her hand to tap the side of her head with her fingers.

"I'm sure you are," He smirked lightly. "Although, it would be nice if you made a move before midnight."

"Fine," Nic sighed and picked up a Pawn and moved it back diagonally, taking out his Checker. "Happy?"

"No," Helmut frowned sitting back up. "That is against the rules."

"What? It so isn't!" She defended herself, taking the piece and putting it to her side.

"It so is," He reached and snatched it, placing it back on the board. "You can't go backwards to get the Checker when you use a Pawn, only forward."

"No, you can when you either use a Pawn or a Rook."

"You are altering rules to cheat." He accused her, narrowing his eyes at the giant grin that plastered her face. If that wasn't the most mischievous expression he had ever seen, he didn't know what was.

"I would never do that!"

She was saved from being caught by Carl coming into the room and disturbing their attention.

"Mum says if you two don't come to the table I get your dessert." He announced, making them both look at the clock. They most certainly were late for dinner. Again.

"Well we can't have that."

"Mom's gonna kill us," Nic mouthed, making him chuckle.

"Oh most definitely." He agreed as they made their way into the kitchen.

"Look who finally remembered that dinnertime exists," Ivana called out looking up from her phone as they came in. Carl and Nic took their seats, piling the food from the table into their plates. Ivana cooked steak with mashed potatoes and vegetables that night. The latter that both kids, made their best effort to stay clear from.

"Apologies, dear." Helmut made his way and leaned over the back of her chair. He laid his hands on her shoulders and pressed his lips against her cheek, planting a quick kiss.

"Playing your silly game again?" She chuckled as she brought her hand to the back of his neck, slipping her fingers into his hair.

"It makes all the sense when you know the rules," He remarked, leaning into the touch.

"Not when you two are the ones that made the rules and change them every game in order to cheat and win the game."

"We never cheat," He cast Nic a look who in turn smiled innocently at her mother.

With a gentle squeeze on Ivana's shoulders, Helmut moved away to grab the bottle of Marcassin Estate Chardonnay from the counter and opened the drawer to find a bottle opener.

"Oh don't even try to act cute Helmut. I know you two."

"We can always play something else," He suggested. "Backgammon? Nic and I against you and Carl?"

"You lost the last time," Carl quipped in with a fork half raised to his mouth. "And the time before that."

"It was a brief misfortune," Helmut defended himself. "Those days are over."

"Mum and I are going to kick your asses," He retorted with a shrug.

"Carl! Language," Ivana reprimanded as Helmut moved to pass her the glass of Chardonnay before pouring himself one as well.

"What? Nic always says it."

"Since when?" Nic raised her eyebrow.

"Just cause Nic does something doesn't mean you have to repeat it," Ivana rolled her eyes, taking the glass. She cast him a glance and smiled. "Thank you, honey."

"It doesn't matter. Dad and I are going to wipe the floor with you," Nic boasted.

"In your dreams. We always win." Carl rolled his eyes and reached for the glass of water.

"You lost like yesterday what are you talking about?"

They started to bicker, recalling their previous matches and rubbing in victories to each other while Helmut half-listened to them as he ate.

"Anything to add?" Ivana rose her eyebrow at him playfully.

"Oh, I know better than to say anything." He defended himself with a smile and tipped the glass to his mouth to prove the point.

The pieces fell in a heap after it connected with the Bishop that he held moments ago. Helmut exhaled deeply through his nose, his hands curling into fists. Damn it. He opened his eyes and looked down at the scattered chess pieces across the board. Some of them had fallen to the floor. He ran his hand through his hair, brushing through the small knots and grease that seemed to permanently stick to him, no matter how much he tried to scrub it off. He was tempted to convince one of the guards to bring him some of the products he used back home, but ever since everyone snapped back into existence, the number of times the same guards came by, had decreased. Besides, there were a limited number of favours he could pull at a given time. So he was stuck living with the mediocre, at best, shampoo. Such a pity.

He clenched his jaw tight, grinding his teeth, as he bent down to grab the fallen pieces, failing entirely to ignore how his chest tightened and air seemed to disappear from his lungs. No matter how much time had passed, it never got easier to breathe through it. It was like a disease that could never be fully gotten rid off no matter how much he tried to move past it. When the dust settled, and initial shock left him all those years ago, he was certain that he must be having a heart attack. Convinced that such intensity of agony that hit him over and over, seemingly at random times had to have some medical reason. Apparently, the never-ending sensation that liked to leave him breathless and choked for air, was simply just a permanent part of his new life. A life that he was forced to continue against his will. It was cruelty at its best.

Helmut moved his position from the bed to the desk by the time that lunchtime came around. He hunched over the crossword puzzle in the newspaper that the guards brought in this morning, when they brought him his lunch.

The alarm buzzed as the metal door to his cell opened from the outside. He glanced over to see that it was a guard that he met when he was first dropped here from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. Stefan was one of the younger guards, more chatty and naive than some of the others. It was something that he used to his advantage years ago, befriending him enough to gain his trust.

Stefan came in, bringing a plate of food and a mug of black coffee. Getting to know his guards had its perks, such as getting better quality coffee.

"Thank you, Stefan." Helmut voiced his gratitude to the guard in German. He too had fallen victim to the Snap. Helmut was grateful that the young man resumed working after returning to existence. Without him, some of the possessions that Helmut had in his cell would have taken longer to get.

"How's the crossword?" Stefan nodded towards the newspaper as he slipped the cup first through the opening at the bottom of the glass.

"Would be better if they did not repeat the questions so often," Helmut shrugged as he stood up and walked over the glass barrier. He bent down to pick up the mug and took a sip, humming in appreciation.

"I'll see what I can do about getting better crosswords. If I can borrow one of your books again."

"Consider it done." Helmut chuckled, lightly rocking back and forth on his feet. He reminded him of Nic sometimes. "Quiet shift?"

"You have no idea," Stefan sighed. "Oh, I almost forgot. You have visitors scheduled for 4 o'clock today."

Stefan informed him as he passed the plate onto his side of the cell. Helmut tilted his head and raised his eyebrow.

"Who?" He asked curiously. It was not often that he had people visiting him. Not without needing something out of him.

"Someone by the names of James Barnes and Sam Wilson."

"Oh?" Winter soldier and an Avenger in one day? Something serious enough must be going on if they wanted to talk to him. Perhaps something that wasn't publicized in the newspapers.

"Any reason why two Avengers want to see you?"

"Not a clue," Helmut shrugged and took a couple of steps back to his desk where his books were placed. He picked up a copy of Middlemarch and passed it to him. "Here, this should keep you occupied for a while."

"Huh," Stefan hummed reading over the cover. "Never took you one for reading novels."

"I have time to kill." He sighed as he passed the empty mug back to the guard.

"Well thanks," Stefan nodded. "I'll let you know when they arrive."

Helmut watched him leave before sighing and taking his plate from the floor. Chicken with steamed broccoli and gravy laid on his plate. Not the worst.

Setting It down on the desk, he smiled lightly as the young Wakandan King's words echoed in his ears. 'The living are not done with you yet.'. It seems like he was right after all.

This was certainly going to be interesting.

Helmut watched him enter, patiently tapping his fingers while the guard left. The Winter Soldier, James as he now called himself, stepped closer to the glass with his posture stiff and head held high. Picture definition of a perfect soldier.

"Longing. Rusted." Helmut rolled the Russian words off his tongue, raising from his bed. They came easy to him, even after eight years. "Seventeen."

He stopped and watched James. He didn't need to list off all of them, just enough to gouge a reaction from him. To see how quickly could the illusion of a changed man crumble under slight pressure.

"Those days are over," James responded in English, never breaking eye contact. He said it with confidence, but Helmut could see through the facade. There was uncertainty in James' eyes. Doubt. The trigger words might have been deprogrammed and removed, but the years of destruction and killing could not just be erased and replaced with a new start. The instinct would not just disappear.

"I know," Helmut tilted his head, goading. "I just wanted to see how the new you reacts to the old words."

With the cell being small, it didn't take much to walk closer to the soldier and look him down. Up close, it was even easier to see the missing pieces in his face. There was still something, deep inside, that craved orders. The fragments of the Winter Soldier were still there. His therapist must have either been blind or lacking any skill in her profession to let this man go back into any work, let alone to meet him. Unless he was acting behind their back. Helmut smacked his lips, as different thoughts of how he could explore it to his own advantage crossed his mind.

"Something is still in there. At least you were not conscious for most of your imprisonment." Unlike himself who had nothing better to do but to be trapped with his own thoughts. He had to admit, he was almost jealous. Unfortunately, the five-year blip felt no longer than five minutes, not nearly long enough to make any difference. To rest from the burden of living.

"That time wasn't exactly a picnic."

Helmut could sympathize with that.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He confessed, any goadiness leaving his voice entirely. And he was sorry, honestly, for the part that he played, no matter how necessary it was. "It was never personal. You were simply a means to a necessary end."

"Someone recreated the Super-Soldier serum. I need to find out who." James, changed the subject, catching his attention immediately. Helmut looked back at him. This was not something he expected. Granted, it was suspicious in itself that James wanted to meet with him which meant that he needed something out of him, but he figured it would have been about Hydra or even perhaps the Winter Soldier Program.

"You are assuming HYDRA has something to do with this," He assessed. It was a logical guess; with HYDRA's past involvement and reputation, it would make sense to think it was them behind this. Yet, Helmut had to wonder if HYDRA rebuilt themselves enough, ever since it was destroyed by mostly Steve Rogers, to recreate the Super-soldiers. Empires like that took years, if not decades to rebuild themselves to former glory. After all, last he heard, The Avengers were still broken, even post-Snap. Scattered. So, perhaps it was someone else. "Which is why you came to me, which means you are desperate. Luckily for you, I know where to begin."

It wasn't hard to think of Madripoor as the first stop. Years of trading and forging connections on the low, allowed him a personal insight into the city-state. For long enough to build a small safe-house, off the grid, that was just outside the city.

He watched James consider the proposal of his services, watched as different emotions passed through him. Hatred, anger, mistrust, contempt. Finally, they all dissolved into resignation. He knew that he needed him.

"You will be our prisoner until we bring you back," James asserted, leaving no room for argument.

"Naturally," Helmut smirked, half raising his clasped hands in mock surrender. James looked past him to his cell.

"What's the book you're reading?"

Helmut glanced at the book behind him. First Edition of Fortune is a River laid on his sheets. He glanced back at James, hoping his plan was not going to involve the book's destruction. It was one of the more expensive books in his collection. He won it an auction in Madripoor after bidding B6.61, roughly 304,421 Euros. It would be a shame to ruin it.

"Machiavelli."

James grunted and tilted his head for it. Helmut picked it up and slid the book to him. He examined it briefly as they went over James' plan and the location where to meet, slid it back to him, and left without a word. The door shut loudly behind him, leaving Helmut alone again. He looked down at the book and flipped through it. Towards the back of the book, on page 235, he found a small, black key card that was responsible for the lock of his cell and other doors.

Not long after Helmut put the key card into his pocket, the alarm went off. Within moments, the chaos of shouts and heavy boots hitting the ground could be heard outside his cell. He didn't hesitate to unlock his cell, step out and walk through the mostly empty hallways on the upper floor. He was met by one officer with his gun raised by the shower rooms, but with his training as a Colonel, it was easy enough to overpower him and knock out the gun from his hold. Helmut used the grip that he had on the guard's arms, twisted him over his shoulder and threw his arm over the guard's neck, rendering him useless. The guard tried to pry his hold but Helmut was faster and dragged him backwards into the shower stalls, knocking him out by hitting him against the wall.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he fought against time to undress himself and the man and swap their clothes. The longer he took, the less chance he had of slipping through unnoticed. Confrontation with the guards would not be the smartest decision. Thankfully, the man was roughly his size, so the uniform was neither too baggy nor too tight on him. It would not make him stand out. From there, he rushed down the stairs, past where the fight broke out and used the key card to open the security door.

"Aufseher Menz." Helmut called out the name of the guard, with a phone pressed to his ear. He tilted the hat lower to cover his face against the cameras. The doors made an audible click as the lock opened and he held the door for riot guards to march past him. From there it was easy enough to sneak out, he only needed to trip out the fire alarm and run behind couple of guards and prisoners to appear like he was doing his job. Spotting the I-3 passage door, he snuck by the guards and took the shortcut for another hallway. Following the emergency exit signs, he stayed away from the camera views until the facility was behind him.

Helmut pushed the door open of his private garage and stepped in. Locating it by Berlin Correctional Facility finally paid off. It was quite easy to find James and his partner, Sam, in the building since they seemingly pulled all the electrical switches that they could find, making their location quite obvious for anyone with eyes. He crossed the corridor and pushed past plastic coverings that divided the room.

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa." Sam exclaimed, marching to him the moment he noticed his presence. So James didn't tell him of his plan to break him out. Perhaps he didn't trust his partner enough. Interesting. Helmut wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the Shield being passed to Sam instead of James. It would be understandable if James felt some resentment towards Sam, even though he didn't keep the Shield for long. The news of the new Captain America and the details of the passing of the Shield were plastered across all the newspapers for the last couple of weeks, even in Germany.

"No, listen." Bucky jumped in front of Sam, putting his arm in front of his chest to stop him.

"What are you doin' here?" Sam demanded, looking at Helmut who simply approached them with his hands half-raised in surrender. He took the uniform's hat off while James tried to explain himself.

"I didn't tell 'cause I knew you wouldn't let this happen."

"What did you do?"

"We need him."

"You're going back to prison!"

"If I may…" Helmut tried to intervene in the conversation, fearing that he would have to stand around and listen to them bicker for the next couple of hours.

"No!" James and Sam shouted back in sync.

"Apologies." That was the best he could think of to say. There was no point to poke the bear, or this apparent married couple, too much this soon. He couldn't help but watch their dynamic.

"When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again."

"I really think I'm invaluable…" Helmut tried to interrupt again, knowing that the Avenger would need more convincing.

"Shut up." Sam ordered, sending him a glare. Helmut frowned. Well, that was rude and not called for. He was not the one that had no leads.

"Okay." Sam sighed, making up his mind as he pointed the flashlight towards James' chest. He turned to Helmut. "If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission."

"Fair." Helmut tilted his head. It wasn't like he had that many options at the moment. Not when the prison was so close.

"Okay. Zemo, where do we start?" Sam asked, distrust seeping through his tone, but he had no other choice.

Helmut's face split into a giant grin. It was music to his ears.

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier has completely taken over my life. It's so goddamn good and it made me fall in love with Zemo and feel so heartbroken for him. Like he needs some happiness in his life plz. So here we are.
This is Zemo-centric fic :) His family hasn't been talked about that much in the movies or series so I took some liberty.
In this fiction, his wife is named Ivana, and he has two children. At the time of the Ultron attack, Carl was 10 and Nic was 15 but the story is going to explore different periods of Zemo's life.
Quick points: Normal text format is for present times and if someone talks in English.
Italics are for memories and if someone speaks in another language.
English isn't my first language so if you spot mistakes please let me know :)