Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As with every mission assigned to him, the Soldier never asked questions. He was not permitted to, and his conditioning, along with his blind trust in his superiors, prevented it. He was but an empty shell that executed orders flawlessly, without any emotions interfering during assassinations or battles. He was direct, efficient, and formidable—the secret weapon of HYDRA, of which the Russian branch was proud. He was the Winter Soldier, not just anyone, and he knew it.

When he was brought out of cryostasis, his Handler recited the Soldier's activation words. Immediately, the slight anxiety he felt upon waking dissipated, replaced by relief and a sense of familiarity. He knew his handler's voice—it was always General Karpov, who had been by his side before he was plunged into dreamless sleep.

Karpov took the time to perform the Soldier's small rituals, re-establishing their shared bonds, starting with a bath. His handler attended to him meticulously, washing his hair, easing his cold-stiffened muscles with warm water to avoid thermal shock.

Contrary to his reputation for feeling no emotion, the Soldier was overwhelmed with joy at reuniting with his handler. Karpov was everything precious to him, and he made a superhuman effort not to purr under the military attention of the man behind him, to remain impassive.

He was just a weapon, not an individual, and Karpov cared for him like he would a firearm before a mission—which was exactly the case here.

When the Soldier was clad in his combat uniform, and his left arm was polished to a shine that gleamed under Karpov's private office lights like a brand-new weapon, the Soviet star stood out like a mark of pride in the metal. Karpov felt a wave of pride wash over him at the sight, a hint of possessiveness taking hold.

The Soldier stood there, straight before his desk, his gaze lost somewhere beyond his master, rendering his icy blue eyes as cold as death.

"The war in Sokovia, triggered by the United States, is the opportunity HYDRA has been waiting for several years to infiltrate that country," Karpov began from behind his desk, eyes fixed on the Soldier. "Sokovia holds a highly strategic geographic position for HYDRA. It lies between Russia and Germany, our two largest branches. The current chaos amidst war is perfect for our military and human experimentation projects."

The Soldier did not need to know all the ins and outs of the mission, nor the reasons driving HYDRA to action to the extent of soliciting him, but Karpov was unlike any of his previous handlers, and if he had the right to speak, the Soldier would have said he was by far his favorite.

Karpov always insisted on providing context, perhaps to help the Soldier better understand the stakes, to nurture the loyalty he had for HYDRA, even if it was enforced. But that, the Soldier was not aware of. At least, he evidently could not resist.

So he simply accepted the information his handler saw fit to give him, feeling more involved, more than just a weapon expertly wielded from afar by his handlers.

Deep down, he felt genuine satisfaction and pride in having Karpov as his master, and he did not want to disappoint him. Thus, the Soldier, obedient and attentive, continued to listen, absorbing every word while hiding his enthusiasm behind a mask devoid of emotion and those empty eyes.

"You will be deployed to Sokovia," Karpov stood up to lean against his desk. "A generous Sokovian Baron, a member of HYDRA for several years, has offered us a fortress in the mountains. It is currently under the command of Wolfgang Von Strucker to conduct these famous experiments." He pointed to the location on the unfolded map on the massive wooden surface, depicting Sokovia and its mountain ranges. "The Baron's name is Heinrich Zemo. He will support us financially for our research, but will also participate in these experiments. He has extensive knowledge of biochemistry, which will be an asset in creating serums, in addition to our scientific teams."

At this statement, the Soldier frowned. He vividly remembered the failures of the experiments conducted on the other Winter Soldiers. The Stark's serums administered had made the subjects violent and uncontrollable. The Soldier himself had nearly believed he wouldn't survive protecting his handler from those soldiers that day. For this reason, he had come to resent the other Winter Soldiers deeply. He had also been profoundly hurt that HYDRA attempted to replace him. He had thought himself special. But no, the Soldier wasn't allowed to think.

"You will be there to ensure the transit of experimental subjects between the city of Novi Grad and the laboratories within this Fortress," Karpov said, circling the desk to stand beside the Soldier. The Soldier turned to face him. "You will also serve as Baron Zemo's personal guard. He embodies Sokovia's power and politics. It's crucial that a member of HYDRA remains at the helm of this government. With this civil war, the people and the Sokovian army might rebel. You will ensure the Baron stays alive so we can maintain this advantage." The Soldier acknowledged this for the first time, subtly nodding his head. "I won't be there, Солдат Soldier, so you'll be supervised by Commander Strucker, who will receive and follow my orders concerning you." He raised his hand to lightly grasp the Soldier's chin between his fingers. "Remember, you belong to me, and my orders come above all else. However, I expect you to make a good impression on our dear Baron Zemo. So remember to show your obedience."

The Soldier nodded again, despite his limited range of motion, before letting his gaze once more drift to some invisible point beyond Karpov. However, the General cupped the Soldier's face, forcing him to meet his gaze again. His pupils were so dilated that the blue nearly disappeared, as all his attention focused on his handler. He felt a thrill under his skin from the excitement of the mission and ecstasy from the contact and proximity with Karpov. Karpov looked at him almost tenderly, a glint of pride lighting up his eyes.

"You may go prepare for your departure, Солдат Soldier," he smiled slightly. "Hail HYDRA."

"Hail HYDRA."

It was the only phrase he could utter without permission, and it invoked pride in his superiors. The Soldier didn't miss the smile from his handler and was almost frustrated to be dismissed so quickly for his own preparations. He had barely reunited with his handler; he would have liked more time with him before being deployed on the mission. But he had no say in the matter. If he wanted to shine for his master, then he had to execute the orders given to him. And to that, the Soldier burned to comply.

The preparations took only a couple of hours, as the Soldier was always the last to be briefed for missions when he was involved. The entire team set to depart with him was already bustling in the hangar, loading the helicopter with various weapons, provisions, and supplies for the Soldier. He scanned the area upon joining the team near the helicopter, where his master and another man stood, the latter sporting an unusual monocle.

" Солдат Soldier," his handler began. "This is your supervisor for your mission in Sokovia, Commander Strucker."

"Well," remarked the monocle-wearing man, clearly impressed. "He's taller than the rumors say." He glanced at his metal arm and then sized up the Soldier from head to toe. "HYDRA wasn't messing around when they made him. He's magnificent. I look forward to seeing him in action."

The Soldier didn't react, the words sliding off him like water off a duck's feathers. Though they were praises, not directly aimed at him, he paid them no mind. He did indeed love being praised; that was as true as his irrational fear of trains. However, if those words had been spoken by General Karpov, he probably wouldn't have been able to stifle a moan of pleasure behind his muzzle-like mask. The Soldier was desperate at this point, craving recognition from his handler, whom he had barely reunited with before having to leave again.

_________

The helicopter journey lasted a few hours. As they took off, the night in Siberia was still dark and thick, but as time passed, the sky gradually lightened to reveal a sunrise, painting the clouds in shades of orange, pink, and gold.

The Soldier sat at the back of the aircraft, next to Strucker who was engrossed in his reading. It was the Soldier's dossier, containing everything Strucker needed to know about how to handle or utilize him, how his metabolism functioned, and protocols for punishment or reward. There was also a manual for lobotomies and resets, though those required a report to General Karpov to determine if they were truly necessary. Resets were not to be taken lightly. They could erase all mission-related memories, severely damage his brain beyond repair, or worse, kill him. Apart from his left arm, he was still flesh and blood; too much voltage on the machine could plunge him into an irreversible sleep.

"They had to give us the manual in Russian, of course," Strucker sighed before closing the dossier and looking at the Soldier. "They could have at least provided an English translation. Russians are selfish."

The Soldier furrowed his brow, though his attention remained fixed on an invisible point straight ahead, on the helicopter's wall. Despite the rotor noise, he had heard Strucker's complaints perfectly well. He wasn't allowed to voice disagreement, especially as he didn't appreciate people speaking ill of his homeland, Russia, even if they were HYDRA agents. But he had no right to express anything, so he gently relaxed his face, smoothing out the frown between his brows under a mask of impassivity.

Not wanting to listen to Strucker speak unnecessarily, or risk betraying himself with any facial expression beneath this mask, both material and emotional, the Soldier preferred to retreat into the depths of his mind to think about his handler. He disliked being away from his true handler. He hoped this mission would be over quickly so he could see him again, but he knew he wouldn't return to Russia for several weeks, if not months. So he had to be patient and live up to his master's expectations by executing this mission flawlessly.

He wanted to make him proud, and that's what he would do by being the good soldier he was.

"Hey!" Strucker snapped his fingers in front of the Soldier's eyes, abruptly bringing him back to reality. He turned his head towards him, a confused expression on his face, but tried not to appear hostile. After all, Strucker had interrupted him in the midst of contemplating his master. "Are you listening to me?"

If listening meant staring at Strucker, then the Soldier plunged his steel gaze into the German's eyes. He knew he was feared, dreaded, so he didn't hesitate to simply stare, to scrutinize. It wasn't really intentional; he had always been this way. Strucker swallowed hard, feeling pierced by that icy gaze, and shifted in his seat. Such a look gave him the unpleasant impression that the Soldier could see into his soul and harm him. He nervously ran his tongue over his lips before clearing his throat.

"Just be..." he resumed uncertainly. "More attentive." He turned to look at Sokovia's snowy mountains. "I want you to impress Baron Zemo."

To impress.

The Soldier always exceeded others' expectations. He wanted Karpov to hear his praises from their home in Siberia.

To show his attention, he briefly nodded before staring straight ahead again, his hands of flesh and metal resting on his knees, unmoving. He heard Strucker’s deep breath and his heart race despite the deafening noise of the rotors.

Stressed.

The Soldier wondered if it was the mission or himself that was putting the future German Baron in this state.

"What languages do you speak?" Strucker asked ten minutes later. "I already know you speak Russian and English."

" Ich kann jede Sprache sprechen, die Sie wünschen. I can speak any language you wish."

Strucker abruptly turned his head towards the Soldier, surprised to hear his native language, but also astonished to hear the Soldier's voice. Granted, he had asked a direct question, and not answering would have been insubordination, which never happened from the Soldier, but he was still taken aback.

Nevertheless, surprise was quickly replaced by a strange affection that twisted Strucker's face into a smile. He had been deployed outside of Germany for so long that hearing his native language sparked a twinge of nostalgia.

HYDRA was deployed worldwide, and mostly, the different branches communicated in English. Strucker had always struggled with Russian, but he managed a bit of French as well.

" Interessant Interesting," he replied in German before continuing in English. "And Sokovian?" The Soldier turned his head towards him again, silently observing. "Because apart from a few words, I don't speak it. If you speak it, I'm certain this mission will be a success. Especially with the Baron Zemo."

This time, the Soldier simply nodded instead of responding verbally. He could have replied in the relevant language as well, but he already felt like he had spoken too much. He didn't like going against orders because he didn't like being punished.

Then, if he had to impress anyone, it certainly wasn't Wolfgang Von Strucker, but rather his superior Vasily Karpov, or this famous Heinrich Zemo. As Strucker immersed himself back into his documents, the Soldier silently observed him for a moment before lifting his eyes to the window. The sky was beautiful, and internally, the Soldier was impatient with anticipation.

What was Sokovia like? The Fortress? Would his superior be satisfied with his missions carried out there? He wasn't used to having so many questions in his head, but it was often the case when he emerged from cryostasis. It was as if his brain was gradually reanimating. But he never spoke of this.

If he were to mention that he questioned things, even related to his missions or HYDRA, Karpov would not hesitate to have him reset. He knew that sometimes it was necessary for proper functioning, and he never questioned the decisions of his superiors, but it was painful. He knew he wasn't defective. He was just…

What was it called...?

He squinted, his gaze blank, searching for the term. He slowly tilted his head, eyes fixed on the words ' Зимний солдат Winter Soldier' written on the large bag beside Strucker, also wondering what might be inside.

Ah.

He had found it.

He squinted a bit more, giving the impression of a smile in his eyes, though there was none behind his mask.

Curiosity.

Chapter Text

About twenty minutes later, Strucker was called by the helicopter pilot, informing him of their imminent descent towards the Fortress, HYDRA’s new home hidden in the Sokovian mountains, where they would conduct various human experiments.

The Soldier allowed himself another glance outside and was surprised to appreciate the landscape. Although he was obedient, loyal, and blindly followed HYDRA’s orders without ever asking questions, it did not seem to prevent him from feeling, evidently, emotions. The landscape did not leave him indifferent, and the sensation it gave him was strange, new even, since he was a blank slate just this morning, having left his cryo-tube. The snow was pristine on the peaks and valleys, glittering under the morning sun that had painted the sky with shades of orange and pink a few hours earlier.

He searched again for the term to describe what he was seeing but couldn’t find it this time. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything or have any opinion, even about the landscape.

Not finding what he was looking for, he let the idea disappear when he saw Strucker moving in the corner of his vision. He quickly regained composure before the German noticed his interest in the landscape and made an unpleasant report to Karpov for being distracted. He didn’t want to disappoint his handler before even getting off the helicopter.

He instinctively looked up at Strucker when he approached and stopped at his level.

“We are arriving at our new home, Soldat,” he said, pointing to the medieval Fortress perched on a hill amid several mountain ranges. “Prepare yourself.”

Home.

He wanted to sigh. He already missed Siberia.

No, he already missed Karpov.

Probably.

When the helicopter landed in what looked like a gigantic courtyard inside the ramparts, the Soldier stood up and removed his weapon from his hip holster to position himself in front of Strucker before opening the helicopter door. Although he wasn’t his handler, he was still his referent and thus someone important to protect. The place was indeed under HYDRA’s control, but the Soldier preferred to be cautious. Traitors existed, even among their own.

When he stepped out first, the helicopter’s rotor was slowing down, allowing him to better focus on the surrounding noises. Apart from the birds' songs, the rustling of tree leaves, and some voices and footsteps echoing in the building, everything seemed normal.

He scanned the courtyard with his icy gaze, his face half-hidden by the mask that gave him a predatory look, as if hunting for prey. This wasn’t far from reality, as the Soldier searched for any potential threats, ready to leap and neutralize anyone who dared to cross his path and attack them.

But nothing happened. He only noticed a group of five individuals emerging on his right: a woman in a scientific uniform and four men in HYDRA soldier attire.

The young woman seemed to be leading this small group, and they stopped three meters away, probably cautious in the presence of the Soldier, who still had his weapon pointed at them.

The Soldier took a moment to observe the woman. She appeared to be in her thirties, like Strucker, but something unusual was on her face. The lower left part was covered with a mask resembling a feminine face. It seemed glued to her skin, covering part of her mouth, completely hiding her cheek, and stopping under her eye. Her nose was also covered. This gave her the appearance of a partially repaired doll.

Perhaps that was the case, the Soldier thought. He had seen people wearing such masks before, and they were usually war casualties or had been exposed to painful chemical compounds.

He came back to reality when he felt Strucker’s presence behind him, strangely calming him, especially when the latter placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Everything is fine, Soldat,” he said, removing his hand and stepping in front of him, indirectly indicating he could put away his weapon. He did. “They are not a threat.” He smiled, stopping in front of the young woman. “At least, not in the way you might think. If you could think.”

“Strucker,” said the young woman with a sly smile despite her partially hidden mouth under the expressionless mask, lifting her chin toward him. “When I received the letter saying you needed me here for your projects, I didn’t believe it for a second.” She glanced at the Soldier behind him, then looked back at Strucker. “But it seems you must have appreciated my work enough to want me on your team of scientists. The last time we worked together was during our studies, I believe.”

“Thinking that because of you, Miss Hale, I almost didn’t get my Science degree in HYDRA’s ranks.” Strucker sighed loudly but kept a nostalgic smile.

“It wasn’t my fault if my ideas were better than yours,” she smiled disdainfully. “Whitehall agreed with my theory, but you had to cheat. Do you remember what happened that day in the gymnasium?”

It seemed like a rhetorical question, as Strucker did not respond but tensed up with nervousness. The young woman glared at him intensely. Of course, Strucker remembered.

She raised her left hand and caressed her own face, or at least the mask, with the back of her hand.

“I’ve kept terrible scars,” she said almost in contemplation, probably hoping to see some regret on the German’s face. “But I managed to take back, didn’t I?”

“Indeed,” Strucker replied, adjusting his strange monocle. “I suppose we’re even.”

The Soldier observed them silently from behind Strucker, wondering what they had inflicted upon each other for one to be disfigured and the other apparently partially blind. 

But it wasn’t the Soldier’s business. He wasn’t supposed to ask questions.

“Not being able to be present for the promotions, Whitehall chose you to join The Chamber. What an injustice.”

“Why complain?” Strucker raised an eyebrow. “You’re here, which means you managed to get your degree somehow. Probably by crushing someone on the way to the podium.”

“Certainly,” she smiled again before glancing at the Soldier, uneasy. “Why is he here?”

Strucker pivoted slightly to look at the Soldier, then flashed a brief smile before turning back to his colleague.

“He’s under my responsibility. He’ll participate in the harvest and escort of test subjects for our project. He’ll also be the personal guard of the Baron Zemo.”

Hale scrutinized the Soldier, and he returned her gaze, cold and threatening. He had no reason to blindly trust this woman. After all, she seemed to be a rival of Strucker, and if the future German Baron had partial blindness because of her, then she must be formidable. The Soldier had to remain vigilant. 

His gaze intensified, not blinking even once, piercing the young woman on the spot. She tensed up and eventually looked away to focus on Strucker.

“As if we needed the Winter Soldier here,” she shook her head, disapproving of Karpov’s decision. “We have agents and soldiers here who can do the same job. It’s just a show of power for the Sokovian Baron. Karpov likes to flaunt and show off his best asset.” She narrowed her eyes. “Surprising that he isn’t here in person to show everyone how the Soldier can be a lovable obedient puppy.”

“Do not speak that way about the most perfect weapon HYDRA has ever created,” Strucker snapped, clenching his jaw. “General Karpov had other obligations in Siberia. And the Soldier is perfectly qualified for this mission.” The Soldier felt his heart race at the praise. “He absolutely must ensure the safety of Baron Zemo and his family. One of us could get killed. The Soldier, however, is invincible. It’s extremely important for the future of this country that the Baron’s security is flawless.”

Hale turned her back on Strucker and the Soldier, leading the way back inside with the four other agents escorting her.

“If he were so perfect, he wouldn’t need to be brainwashed and reset. His human psyche is his weakness.” The Soldier frowned as he followed them, not understanding, his weapon in his hands. He heard her sigh loudly before addressing Strucker. “If only we had managed to get our hands on that damned Cosmic Cube, HYDRA would have been at its peak and would dominate the entire planet with high-tech weaponry and soldiers far more powerful than that one.”

She glanced at the Soldier over her shoulder, a flicker of concern in her eyes. Criticizing the Soldier wasn’t very wise, even if he didn’t care about what people said about him. Nevertheless, he was capable of reporting to Karpov if he deemed the woman too virulent, and the consequences could be unpleasant for the scientist.

“The Cosmic Cube is somewhere at the bottom of the Arctic,” Strucker commented, sighing in turn. “It’s not for lack of trying, but we’ve never found anything. Not even the plane Schmidt and that damn Captain America boarded.”

The Soldier’s foot caught on one of the stairs, and he nearly fell. Strucker cast a quick glance behind him, but the Soldier had already straightened up, looking nonchalant, his gaze fixed on the step as Strucker stopped in front of him. 

The German took a breath and resumed walking, continuing to follow Hale and the other HYDRA agents through the thick stone walls of the Fortress. 

The Soldier didn’t know why he had stumbled. He never lost his balance without reason. It was as if his body, more precisely his foot, had briefly refused to cooperate. But why?

“We’ll never find it, we have to accept that,” Strucker continued, addressing Hale. “We must focus on new serums to create other super-humans, but without repeating the mistakes of six years ago with the Winter Soldiers program. It was a total failure, and it’s far too risky to attempt to recreate the super-soldier serum.” He glanced back at the Soldier as they reached the top of the stairs. “The Soldier is the only operational and functional super-soldier. He is powerful, effective, but above all, obedient, loyal, and controllable.” He looked at Hale with a stern expression. “You’ll have to accept that he’s part of this mission.”

The Soldier’s breath hitched involuntarily at his superior’s praise. He felt proud to be so important and essential in HYDRA’s eyes, and reassured that he would remain the only Winter Soldier. The others would stay in cryostasis until they figured out what to do with them. Awakening them would be too dangerous, and killing them would be a waste from a scientific standpoint. He knew this. His handler had already told him so back when the situation had gotten out of control and, for the first time, the Soldier had lost a fight against one of them.

But that day, he hadn’t been punished; on the contrary, Karpov had congratulated and rewarded him for protecting him. He remembered that. Karpov had made sure he wouldn’t forget it.

The Soldier slowed and focused on his surroundings as they passed through a thick metal door, leading to a long corridor lined with doors. These doors likely led to various communication, meeting, or operation rooms.

As they moved down the corridor, the Soldier noticed that the walls were a patchwork of stones and concrete, sometimes reinforced with metal frames and beams. But there was also moss and lichen in places. The area was indeed very dark and damp. 

Still holding his weapon, the Soldier scrutinized each door as they passed by. He wasn’t comfortable being at the rear, but it was the best position to cover Strucker’s back. His gaze lingered on every person coming and going from the rooms and in the corridor, ready to attack if necessary to protect his superior. Everyone turned as he passed, confusion and surprise on their faces, whispers rising behind him.

Reflecting on potential threats, the Soldier’s eyes returned to the woman, Hale, next to Strucker. He had never heard of her, or at least didn’t remember. But one thing was certain: her name didn’t appear anywhere on the list of people involved in this mission that Karpov had shown him. He didn’t question Hale’s legitimacy to be here, as she was a member of HYDRA, and because the Soldier wasn’t supposed to ask questions.

Nevertheless, the woman’s reluctance about his presence at the Fortress made him wary of her. So, he continued to advance behind her and Strucker, burning the young scientist’s back with his gaze.

He tightened his grip on his weapon as they arrived at an elevator, which looked more like a cage, and they stepped inside. The Soldier slipped into a corner with the two rivals, the four other agents remaining on the landing.

“We are going to meet our dear Baron,” Strucker said to him, a glint of amusement and impatience in his eyes. “Remember, he is your priority, he and his family.”

Upon hearing the noble title, the Soldier stood even straighter, his chin lifted, and his weapon still in hand. He was ready to carry out his mission and make both his Superior and the Baron proud.

“What’s his problem?” Hale said softly to Strucker, but the Soldier’s proximity and heightened hearing allowed him to hear clearly. “He’s staring at me.”

“No, he’s not staring at you. He looks at everyone like that, without really seeing them. Don’t worry about it.” Strucker seemed amused by his colleague’s distress. “He’s focused.”

Hale tried to look elsewhere, but the Soldier decided to fix his gaze on her, staring intently this time. He felt a twist of satisfaction in his stomach when Hale finally lowered her gaze to the elevator floor. It was a small victory.

She sighed with relief when the doors opened and hurried out of the elevator to lead them into what seemed to be a large meeting room.

“If the mission is successful,” Strucker continued, following the young woman, “this Fortress will be mine, and under my command, an infiltration team can integrate the secret organization that has been created in Washington DC...” He turned his head towards the Soldier, a dreamy smile at the corners of his lips. “What do you think, Soldier? Maybe General Karpov will be proud of my achievements, and I will be further rewarded...”

The latter turned his head towards him to signify that he had heard but did not respond. It was another rhetorical question, he knew. People often used that kind of phrasing around him without really expecting answers from him. They simply liked to see that they were being listened to.

“Could it be the legendary Winter Soldier?”

Chapter Text

Strucker and the Soldier turned simultaneously towards the door that had just opened at the back of the room. A man in his forties stood at the entrance, with chestnut hair and wearing a long black winter coat. At his waist, a sword in a scabbard adorned his aristocratic appearance. His face was stern, the kind of hardened features seen in men who had lived through and witnessed the horrors of war, and who hadn’t hesitated to step on others to survive and rise to the top. His hazel eyes, however, softened this severity, although a cold glint shone in them.

The Soldier immediately understood who stood before them; it was Baron Heinrich Zemo.

“The one and only,” Strucker said, bowing slightly before the man. “I am Commander Von Strucker, responsible for the Super-Human Project.”

“Pleasure,” said the Baron, extending a gloved hand to the German to shake. The leather was an unusual color: a plum purple. “I’ve heard that you will soon inherit the title of Baron from your recently deceased father. My condolences and congratulations.”

“Great responsibilities come to me through this tragedy, indeed, but it’s something I have been prepared for since birth,” Strucker said, releasing the Baron’s hand. “But let me introduce someone important, Baron.” He stepped aside to provide an unobstructed view of the Soldier, who hadn’t moved an inch. “The Winter Soldier.”

The Soldier saw the fascination gleam in the Baron’s hazel eyes, and a subtle smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Immediately, the Soldier dropped to one knee, bowing and lowering his head in a gesture of unquestionable submission and respect.

“He will be your close guard for the next few months,” Strucker continued. “He will ensure your protection and that of your family during meetings, outings, and other events requiring heightened security. On some nights, he will be on missions for us on our projects here at the Fortress. He will handle the transport of our experimental subjects. The Sokovian people will think they are casualties; the disappearance of these people will be less suspicious, because after all, they can quickly end up shredded under assault rifles.” He smiled, looking at the Baron. “There’s no need to inform you that your standing will rise among your people when you ascend to the high ranks of the Sokovian government.”

“That is indeed the primary goal of this mission, from my perspective,” the Baron said, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “It is certainly ideal that everyone benefits from this enterprise. The objective is for HYDRA to continue infiltrating world governments and become the most powerful in terms of resources and weaponry. And protect Sokovia from other countries.”

The Baron then took a few steps towards the Soldier, who was still kneeling before him, and stopped less than a meter away. " Ste pod mojimi rozkazmi, Vojak? Are you under my orders, Soldier ?"

The Soldier raised his head towards the man in front of him, blinking slowly before looking him in the eyes. It was not disrespect, but rather a recognition that the Soldier acknowledged the Baron as his target to protect and that he was under his orders.

" Áno, Pán Yes, Sir" the Soldier replied in a soft, discreet voice behind his mask in Sokovian. " Som Vám k službám. I am at your service."

“ Úžasné… Amazing...” the Baron smiled before motioning for him to stand with a gentle wave of his other hand, also gloved. “Let me also introduce someone to you.” The Baron stepped aside from the Soldier. “He is young, but he still has much to learn about this country, politics, and especially HYDRA.” He turned towards the door through which he had entered. “Here is my only son and heir to the House of Zemo, Helmut.”

The Soldier glanced at the young man, who was maybe eighteen years old. He didn't seem intimidated by the surroundings, the situation, or even the Soldier's presence. On the contrary, his honey-colored eyes settled on him, seeming to pierce right through him with a curious gleam.

He stood about as tall as his father but was slimmer, certainly less athletic, yet an enigmatic energy surrounded him. A plum-colored scarf, likely cashmere, wrapped around his neck, and his entire body was concealed under a long anthracite coat. His face, softer than the Baron's, momentarily reminded the Soldier of the " beautiful " landscape he had mentioned earlier in the helicopter.

Yes, that was the term he was looking for earlier.

"Helmut," the Baron said, looking at his son haughtily. "I told you the Winter Soldier exists."

The young man smiled without even glancing at his father, his eyes still fixed on the Soldier.

"I see only a man," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "He's neither a ghost nor a monster." He gently breathed in through his nose, his eyes roaming over the Soldier's frame before anchoring back into his blue eyes. "He's far from nightmarish..."

The Soldier blinked involuntarily, struck by the softness of the young man's voice. A strangely pleasant sensation bloomed in his chest, igniting an unfamiliar warmth. His Sokovian accent mixed imperfectly with English, flowing like an incantation that seemed to enchant only the Soldier. He felt a flutter of butterflies in his stomach and desperately wanted to hear the young man speak again.

"Think again," the Baron interjected, his brows furrowing as he stared at his son, frustrated that he hadn't received a single glance. "He may look like a man, but he's a formidable weapon. HYDRA has achieved wonders with him and through him, and we are very proud of it."

The Soldier noticed a slight twitch of the young man's upper lip. Something about his father's words had displeased him.

"You'll have the opportunity to see him in action, and you too will be proud to be part of the organization that shaped him," the Baron turned to face his son, who reluctantly followed suit. "If you still wish to join our ranks, of course."

"I still do."

The Soldier subtly narrowed his eyes as he observed the young man's face harden and darken suddenly. This shadow gave him a cold yet determined demeanor. Helmut Zemo was a young recruit of HYDRA and already possessed the strength of character that every member of the organization must have.

The Soldier felt a strange shiver run through his skin, not from apprehension but from anticipation.

The young man turned his head toward him and stared at him intently. His piercing gaze held no threat, and the coldness dissipated after a few seconds, leaving his eyes almost as warm as embers. He seemed immersed in him, like a reader engrossed in a book, understanding the story, decoding every word and subtlety of the text.

"I want to be here to see that," young Zemo said, starting to smile slightly. "Does he have a name?"

"He's cal--"

But the young man raised his index finger towards Strucker, who had just spoken, immediately silencing him. The Soldier noticed he wore leather gloves in the same color as his scarf.

"I was addressing the concerned party."

Everyone turned their heads towards the Soldier as the young man continued to stare at him, his index finger still pointed towards Strucker.

For a moment, the Soldier felt the urge to disappear. He disliked drawing so much attention to himself; he was known for being discreet, staying in the shadows. Yet here he was, at the center of everyone's attention in the room, like an actor on stage under the spotlight, with all eyes fixed on him.

But a question had been asked, and he had to answer. He swallowed hard, his throat too dry to give a clear and audible response.

"My name is Soldier."

The butterflies in his stomach seemed to rise to his chest when the young man smiled with satisfaction after he uttered his first words in the presence of the Zemos.

"Yes, but you can call him whatever you like," Strucker smiled, though the young Zemo looked at him with annoyance. "He is at your service. He can protect you, but also do many other things. If you order him to, he will do whatever you want. He cannot defy an order; it's against his programming."

As the Baron looked at Strucker with intrigue, his eyebrow raised in curiosity, young Zemo again glanced at the Soldier, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He seemed disturbed by something Strucker had just said, visibly so. But why be disturbed? The Soldier was at HYDRA's service, carrying out whatever he was ordered to do, and in return, his Handler took care of him.

Not always...

He furrowed his brow in turn, troubled by his own thoughts that didn't quite align with his. He had never questioned the treatment given to him by his Handlers. It was up to them to decide what was right or wrong, not him.

"Good!" Strucker exclaimed, clapping his hands together, almost startling the Soldier back to reality. "Shall we get to work?"

And the work in question didn't require the Soldier's presence, as the two men, and Hale who had remained discreet throughout, went to the back of the room around a computer to discuss matters that didn't concern him. He still heard the term "superhumans" as he headed towards the door to guard it, his weapon safely holstered on his back. He didn't need it in such a confined space. His hand-to-hand combat skills would suffice if danger arose.

Yet he doubted anyone would attempt anything, especially in his presence, but traitors and envious individuals were everywhere, even within HYDRA. Once, a member had tried to capture him and activate him with activation words, but the Soldier had crushed his windpipe with an iron grip. Back then, his Handler had ordered him to kill anyone who tried to harm him. It was a form of self-defense, in a way.

His gaze swept the room, though his eyes focused on nothing specific. He knew it gave him a vacant look, but it allowed him a broader view of his surroundings and enabled him to see more things happening at once.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall near the door, reassured by the weight of his knives at his belt.

His metal arm, gleaming under the artificial lights, seemed cold amidst the dark, damp walls dating back to medieval times. He liked his arm very much. It was a gift from HYDRA, he knew that, but he couldn't remember when they had given it to him. But he knew it was his, and he had to be grateful for it.

"Why the star?"

The Soldier blinked, feeling his stomach drop sharply at the sound of young Zemo's soft voice, who had just settled beside him against the wall.

He only moved his eyes to look at him, and the young man stared at him for a long moment, a hint of mischief in his gaze. Why mischief?

He suddenly remembered he had been asked a question. He had been too shaken by the sensation that his voice had provoked.

He turned his head a bit more towards the young man, giving him a confused and uncertain look, while the younger tilted his head subtly, scanning him with his gaze.

The Soldier's heart suddenly raced for a reason he didn't know. The sensation was akin to adrenaline, like what he felt when there was imminent danger. But there was none.

"I know you understand me. But perhaps you prefer another language?"

"No."

His own voice muffled by his mask sounded strange to him. He wasn't used to saying no to his masters, and he didn't want to suggest speaking Russian either. He knew Sokovia was at odds with Russia, and he wasn't there to create conflict. It wasn't his mission.

" Ale môžem hovoriť vo vašom jazyku, ak chcete, But I can speak in your language, if you want," he replied, surprised himself to have responded in the young man's native language rather than English, even though he had been spoken to in that language. " Majster. Master."

He didn't know if he had done it to impress or to show competence, but the surprise in young Zemo's eyes was enough to make him feel pride burst within him. This initiative could have cost him dearly, but it pleased the young master. He knew what to do if he wanted to please and satisfy the younger man.

The latter even smiled.

" No, čo znamená hviezda? So, what does 'star' mean?" young Zemo repeated in his mother tongue, and something seemed to short-circuit in the poor Soldier's damaged brain. " Vojak ? Soldier ?"

" S-Sovietsky zväz. S-Soviet Union."

The Soldier forced himself to try to monitor the room again and not observe too closely the young man's reaction. Yet, in his peripheral vision, he saw him slightly part his lips and tilt his chin forward, eyes momentarily losing focus, lost in thought.

" Vidím... I see..."

However, he did not understand what 'I see' meant that the young man had just used in a soft, evasive tone, but also reflecting a certain disappointment. A furrow between his brows began to deepen, too confused to interpret this simple word that meant so little and yet implied too much. Too much that was beyond the Soldier's reach.

A small forced laugh brought him back to reality like a whip crack, far from causing the pain it had to go with. Instinctively, he turned his head towards young Zemo, who was smiling knowingly, his eyes sparkling.

The Soldier gently widened his eyes, surprised, confused, and intrigued by the puzzle that was Helmut Zemo.

The latter looked at him with amusement and tenderness, perhaps with a hint of mischief in his hazel eyes. The Soldier did not understand why the young man was looking at him like that. He had never been looked at in this way before.

" Sa vám to hodí ..., It suits you...," he said, taking a step to join the others, yet still facing him. "Like a comet. Dangerous, but beautiful."

And there, the Soldier understood from the way his stomach gently twisted at the poetic compliment, and the warmth radiating in his chest and cheeks under his mask, that his instinct had been right.

There was indeed imminent danger.

And his name was Helmut Zemo.

Chapter Text

More than a week had passed since the Soldier's arrival at the Isolated Fortress. He had spent his time exploring the Isolated Fortress, being introduced to various military and scientific personnel, following instructions and information related to the Harvests from a distance, and simply absorbing the atmosphere of the place. The civil war raged in Novi Grad, but the Soldier had not yet been sent there. He observed the retrieval teams returning to the fortress each night with different subjects, also gathering necessary information from Strucker and Hale about the types of subjects to prioritize and their conditions.

He had already encountered Baron Zemo several times at the fortress since his arrival, though not with his son. For the moment, the Soldier had directives to stay close to Strucker to understand the stakes of his mission about the Harvests. 

But tonight, things were about to change a little. He was to execute his first close-guard mission. On these holy days of December, a ceasefire had been requested, though even Strucker was skeptical. Yet this protection mission was just as important and crucial tonight as the upcoming Harvests.

A gala was being held at the Zemo Manor tonight to honor the festivities and celebrate this brief respite before hostilities resumed. The Soldier hadn't changed his attire and remained in his usual uniform. He was allowed to explore the entire manor to get an idea of its layout, the arrangement of rooms, and the location of all possible exits in case of danger.

After thirty minutes of meticulous inspection of the entire ground floor, he decided to go upstairs and inspect the first guest room. From his observations, there were already four on the ground floor in addition to the grand salon, hall, dining room, kitchens, and pantry. Upstairs, there seemed to be six more guest rooms, along with a large room resembling a conference hall, and another that was certainly a grand gallery. Various paintings adorned the walls, and different art objects and sculptures were placed here and there. All this displayed the power and wealth that the Zemo family had possessed for several generations.

He knew that tonight's gala was not just for festivities, as it was primarily a political act. The highest politicians, officials, and members of the great families of Sokovia who had survived the bombings so far were invited.

The Soldier was there to protect the Zemo family. Fortunately for him, tonight he would only have to watch over two people. More would have been within his capabilities, but fewer made him more efficient.

His eyes would be on Heinrich and Helmut Zemo.

He stopped at the last room and found himself face to face with a maid carrying folded sheets in her arms. She seemed barely in her twenties, and when her large green eyes met his, she suddenly began to scream, dropping everything on the floor and fleeing the room.

Perplexed, he stood near the door of the room, his eyes fixed on the corridor, wondering why the young woman had reacted like that. Certainly, he could be dangerous when ordered, but this maid was no threat to the family. Perhaps it was the mask? It often had that effect. Or perhaps it was simply that she didn't know who he was? Or that, precisely, she knew very well?

He then looked at the disarrayed sheets on the floor and felt a twinge of guilt. He crouched down and wondered if he should pick them up. The fabrics were immaculately white and seemed clean; he didn't want to risk soiling them with his hands. Despite being careful, there was always a bit of blood here and there, especially between the ridges of his metal arm plates.

"What have these poor sheets done to deserve such a stare?"

He almost jumped up and saw young Zemo coming out of the bathroom at the far end of this large room. He was wearing only a plum-colored bathrobe, open halfway down his chest and tightened afterward by a belt of similar fabric. His hair was wet, strands sticking together as he lazily tried to dry them with another towel of the same color.

The young man stopped smiling and tilted his head to the side, a look of curiosity on his face.

"Any problem?" He lowered his towel to approach him, an almost defiant look. "Have you tried to infiltrate here to kill me in my bathroom?"

His bathroom.

And then the Soldier realized. He was in the young master's room. He had dared to enter without knocking, frightened the maid, and now young Zemo thought he had tried to sneak in to assassinate him.

His eyes widened in astonishment and panic, but the young man chuckled.

"I know you didn’t come for that, because according to reports, I would already be dead." He smiled. "I wouldn’t have had time to realize I was already doomed. Isn’t that right?" The Soldier held his gaze. "However, you did frighten Rebecca."

The Soldier's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn't breathe under his mask. A cold sweat chilled and paralyzed him.

Come on ! Let me have some !

Why did this phrase come to his mind? Whose voice was it...? He had seen a face briefly in a flash, light blue eyes, fair skin, and long chestnut hair... Who was she...?

"Soldier?"

He blinked rapidly, focusing on the present moment, and felt his breath return, as if the weight that had suddenly oppressed his chest had lifted.

Young Zemo frowned and scrutinized him.

"I... thought I saw sadness in your eyes, for a moment..." he said softly. "Or was it regret...? Guilt..?"

But this one-sided exchange was interrupted by a few knocks on the door of the room. The maid was there again, terrified but determined to alert the other servants if necessary.

"Sir," she said, her eyes almost teary but resolute. "Is this man a threat? Should I go and inform Sir Your Father?"

"No, Rebecca," the young man chuckled softly. "Let me introduce you to the Soldier. That's what he's called. He may be somewhat imposing and perhaps frightening, but he's here precisely to ensure my safety and that of my father. That's why he's here tonight. And he'll be here in the coming weeks, even months."

"Oh..." she suddenly blushed. "Please forgive me for screaming earlier... I thought... you were an assassin," she said, addressing the Soldier directly.

"That's what he is, the best according to reports. But he works for us, not against us. It's better that way, isn't it?"

He gave an amused smile, and the Soldier couldn't help but feel mesmerized. He barely noticed the young woman crouching to pick up the sheets, and when young Zemo turned back to his bathroom, the Soldier took a step towards him.

The younger man turned to him, one eyebrow raised and a playful smile.

"What?" The young man continued to smile. "You want to follow and watch me even into my bathroom?"

Luckily, the Soldier was wearing his mask, otherwise he couldn't have hidden the blush that tinged his cheeks. He quickly shook his head, as if to rid himself of the images he might have seen if he had indeed followed the young man into that bathroom.

Without saying anything, the Soldier left the room to continue his exploration to the second floor. It was out of the question that he would make a fool of himself so early in his mission.

He continued to explore the manor, which took another good fifteen minutes. He lingered over the number of windows, doors, and even went outside to spot potential grips on the facade that could allow access to a window on the upper floors.

And yes, there were a few. Molds on the facade could allow someone to climb up and reach the art gallery, a large vine had clung to one of the walls to climb up to what seemed to be the butler Oeznik's room. 

But another access particularly troubled him, and it was this large wooden trellis fixed just under young Zemo's bedroom window. He approached the structure and noticed a climbing plant intertwined in its diamond shapes, with strange white and purple flowers open here and there.

He had never seen these kinds of flowers. At least, he didn't remember them. They were so strange, so unlike any others he had seen before. They had only ten white petals, with purple and white filaments encircling their green pistils like a crown.

"These are passionflowers."

The Soldier didn't startle, but he quickly looked up at the window just above. He saw the young master leaning against it, arms hanging out into the void, cheek pressed against the stone sill.

The Soldier stepped back to get a better view and furrowed his brow, completely forgetting about the flowers.

"You might fall."

"I've already fallen," the young man smiled, turning onto his back, arms still hanging out, looking back at him. "When I was nine."

"You might fall," he repeated, his voice neutral but anxiety twisting his stomach.

"And I broke my tailbone," the younger one laughed, watching him, his face reddening from the rush of blood. "I couldn't sit properly for several weeks."

But young Zemo then sat up, feeling his head start to spin. Still, he continued to laugh, seeing the Soldier's wide-eyed expression, evidently panicked. He wasn't mocking him, of course, but he found this expression on the Soldier's face somewhat amusing.

He was reputed to be ruthless, efficient, even deadly. Everyone feared and trembled at the sight of him, according to reports and legends. But they were all wrong. The orders the Soldier received were ruthless and deadly. The people giving them were. But not the Soldier. He was just an executor who questioned nothing.

They were afraid of him, but the Soldier was far from frightening when he had no fatal orders to execute. Zemo looked at him, and the more he looked at him, the more charm he found in him. Those who said the Soldier was expressionless and impassive were also wrong. The Soldier's blue eyes were flooded with emotions, and there was nothing more expressive than that, than a gaze that spoke without words.

The young master, with his head resting on his fist, sighed loudly before climbing onto the windowsill. The Soldier's eyes widened, struck by sudden terror, and he stepped back to allow more freedom of movement in case the young man fell.

"Master..!"

Young Zemo had to cling tightly to the stone window frame to avoid falling, feeling his legs suddenly weaken under his own weight at the sound of the Soldier's voice pronouncing that word with such intonation. He took a deep breath to calm his heart's palpitations and crouched down to start climbing down the foliage-covered trellis.

Instinctively, the Soldier reached out to secure the young master in case he lost his grip, but he landed gracefully on the ground before turning to him, a wide, mischievous smile stretching across his lips.

"That's how I sneak out," he confessed almost as if it were a shameful secret. But pride shone in his hazel eyes. "But you would have been there if my foot had slipped... Right?"

He tilted his head to the side, and the Soldier felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. Why was he so... distracted in the presence of the young master? Sure, he was there to protect him, just like the Baron, but it wasn't just concern due to the younger's somewhat defiant and reckless behavior. There was something more he couldn't quite understand. The young master had an aura that hypnotized him.

"You know," the younger one began, "I thought the Winter Soldier was discreet, blending into the crowd, to better strike his prey at the right moment..." He glanced over the Soldier as he approached him. "You are anything but discreet." He raised his eyes to meet the Soldier's icy blue ones. "You might scare someone else again..."

The Soldier swallowed with difficulty, feeling a lump in his throat, as the young man’s gaze drifted to his mask that served as a muzzle. It was true that the Soldier was known for being discreet, silent, deadly, but in his attire, amid this aristocratic world, he was far from unnoticed.

He thought back to the young woman, named Rebecca, who had been frightened by him earlier and had remarked that he looked like an assassin. She was right, nonetheless, he needed to remain inconspicuous if he didn't want all eyes on him instead of the Baron, who had a major role to play in Sokovian politics.

“What are you thinking about..?” The Soldier snapped back to reality in a rush of adrenaline. He must not show that he could think for himself, express doubts, or consider initiatives. “You have nothing to fear with me,” young Zemo said, crossing his arms behind his back. “I’m not here to report anything. I’m very curious to know what’s going on behind such beautiful eyes…”

The Soldier's heart raced. His mask protected him, but it also felt like a barrier that kept him from understanding his own emotions. He tried to keep his composure, his training demanding it, but Zemo's words penetrated that stoic exterior, stirring something deep within him.

“Do you ever think about freedom?” Zemo asked, his tone soft but probing. “Not just physical freedom, but the freedom to feel, to want, to desire?”

The question caught the Soldier off guard. Freedom was a concept foreign to him, buried under layers of conditioning and orders. He hesitated, unsure how to respond. Zemo’s eyes never left his, waiting patiently for any sign of recognition or understanding.

“I… I do not think about such things,” the Soldier finally replied, his voice a whisper, almost drowned by the weight of his mask. “My purpose is to follow orders. Nothing more.”

Zemo sighed, a mixture of pity and frustration flickering across his features. “There is more to life than just following orders,” he said gently. “There’s a world out there full of possibilities. And maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to experience it.”

The Soldier's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something — hope, perhaps — igniting within them. The young Zemo's words were dangerous, planting seeds of thought that could grow into rebellion against his programming. But they were also a lifeline, a glimpse of a future where he might be more than just a weapon.

For now, he was still bound by his mission, his loyalty to those who commanded him. But the young master’s words would linger in his mind, a reminder that there was a world beyond the mask, and that he had the potential to reach for it.

The Soldier shook his head vigorously, eyes tightly shut, as if to drive away the thoughts invading his mind. He had no right to let such things distract him. His mission was to protect the Zemo family during this period of conflict in Sokovia, not to question his own nature or emotions.

It was simple, really.

He wasn’t human; he was a weapon, the pride of HYDRA and his Handler Karpov. He had no emotions, no feelings for anything other than his homeland and Karpov. Nothing else mattered. Completing the mission, following orders, would satisfy his Handlers. The substance didn’t matter, only the form was important to him.

He reopened his eyes, concealing the spark of life that had appeared in them a few moments earlier due to the young master’s words, and fixed his cold, empty gaze into the warm, gentle eyes of the younger man.

“Protecting you is my mission,” he articulated in an emotionless voice. “Talking to me will lead you nowhere.”

He started to walk but stopped after a few steps to turn towards young Zemo, waiting for him to follow to return inside. The younger man smiled slightly, convinced that his words had made an impact on the Soldier. His reaction was a defense mechanism, protecting himself not from HYDRA or his handlers, but from the emotions that had assailed him.

The young man joined the Soldier without saying anything further, offering just a small nod. If he didn’t want to incur the wrath of the Winter Soldier, he needed to comply with his requests. For his own protection, certainly, but also to maintain a good relationship between them, so Helmut could get closer to the Soldier and continue analyzing him.

Helmut was right in thinking that the infamous Winter Soldier was neither a monster nor a ghost. He was human, an undeniable reality. He was a human trapped in his own mind, a human reduced to nothingness by HYDRA.

And Helmut was determined to dig deeper and extract something from it.

“Very well,” he began, following him back inside the manor. “I have an order for you, if that’s the only thing that matters to you.”

The Soldier, arriving near the main entrance door, looked in all directions, ensuring no threat was on the horizon. He glanced at the teenager beside him while opening the door, waiting for him to issue his order. The young man walked very close to him as he crossed the threshold of the entrance, anchoring his mischievously bright hazel eyes in the cold emptiness of the Soldier’s gaze.

“Go and change,” he said, looking the Soldier up and down. “You need to be discreet tonight at the gala.” He took a deep breath, imagining the Soldier in more formal attire. “Ask Ingrid to find you something to wear.”

Then, with a final look into the Soldier’s eyes, young Zemo returned inside the manor, leaving the Soldier alone on the doorstep. The metal fingers holding the door handle tightened, suppressing an emotion beginning to stir in his chest. His gaze was fixed in the void, an avalanche of thoughts and sensations flooding his mind. He released the handle, as if suddenly returning to reality.

He had received an order, and he had to comply.

He went upstairs to find the servant named Ingrid to help him with his new mission.

Chapter Text

On the first floor, the Soldier ventured down the long corridor lined with doors, but stopped in front of one that was slightly ajar. He didn't remember checking this one. When he had passed by earlier, it had been locked and inaccessible to him. A soft scent of roses wafted from the room, and the Soldier couldn't resist moving closer. He remained on the threshold, sweeping the room with his gaze. It was a bedroom, with a large four-poster bed, dark and warm solid wood furniture, probably walnut. Everything was sculpted, crafted, and the beige and pale pink tones, along with touches of burgundy, made the place warm and reassuring.

He stepped inside and looked around. He saw many decorations adorned with gold and silver, ivory and mother-of-pearl, such as the candelabra, a jewelry box, a hairbrush, and a large mirror on the wall. The Soldier raised his right hand to gently grasp the hairbrush. It was made of ivory, with arabesques carved on its back. He could read the initials HZ engraved above the handle. 

This room undoubtedly belonged to a woman, probably this HZ. He was convinced that the Z stood for Zemo, but he didn't know what the H stood for. He knew that the young master had the same initials, as did the Baron, but he could hardly imagine either of them using such an object. Once again, given the room, its decor, and accessories, this H could only belong to a woman.

“ Nemáte právo tu byť. You have no right to be here”

The Soldier slowly turned his head towards the old housekeeper who had just emerged from an adjoining room. He blinked. He hadn't fully understood the sentence, as he had been pulled from his thoughts, but the woman was looking at him sternly.

“ Je to zakázané. It is forbidden” And now he understood. She approached him and took the brush from his hands, gently. “ To patrí Madam. This belongs to Madame.”

This belongs to Madame .

The Soldier watched her place the hairbrush back on the dresser where he had taken it from, then she looked at him again before waving her hand to shoo him out. Strangely, the Soldier complied. He didn't have to answer to this woman, but he felt that if he didn't do as she said, he would get in trouble. Once back in the hallway, the woman joined him and closed the door behind her. The Soldier looked at the lock curiously, then heard the woman sigh.

“ Panovi sa nepáči, keď sa toto miesto znesväcuje. The Master does not like it when this place is desecrated”

So the Baron had secrets. This place must be important to him, even sacred.

“ Kto obýval túto miestnosť? Who occupied this room?” asked the Soldier.

“Madam Zemo.” He tilted his head, intrigued. “Madam Hilda Zemo.”

So the young master’s mother was named Hilda. He suddenly realized that he hadn't yet found the maternal figure in the manor, and considering the Baron's coldness and his insistence that no one enter this room, the Baroness was certainly deceased. 

He wanted to ask more questions, but the woman shook her head disapprovingly before grabbing a strand of his long hair.

“ Treba sa o to postarať. It needs to be taken care of” she said, determined to do something about his hair. She turned on her heels and resumed her walk. “ Nasledujte ma. Follow me.”

And the Soldier followed her. Maybe she was Ingrid, after all.

When they reached another room, Ingrid asked him to take a shower in the adjacent bathroom. So he undressed and turned on the water. He didn't wait for the water to even reach room temperature before stepping under it. He was used to the cold because of the cryogenization, but also because the temperatures in Siberia were very low in winter, and the generators were not always operational to heat the base's water.

Moreover, he found no interest in taking his time and enjoying a shower. Only the bath with his Handler was important to him because it provided a comforting feeling.

So he hurried to wash himself in a clinical, efficient, methodical way. Once out of the shower, he dried himself quickly and put on the underwear that Ingrid had left for him.

He joined her in the room, wearing only the underwear, and the woman couldn't help but stare. But her gaze quickly shifted to his left arm, particularly at the junction of metal and flesh at his shoulder, which was completely scarred. She seemed to notice the red star painted on his metal deltoid and looked back up at him.

“You are not Sokovian,” she said in english to make herself understood, realizing she was facing a foreigner. “What happened to you?”

The Soldier tilted his chin to glance at his shoulder, then back at Ingrid.

“The body I possess was damaged,” he replied in a completely neutral tone, as if it were normal. “It was repaired by the best engineers. And now, I am stronger than the man who was there before me.”

Ingrid remained silent for a moment, digesting the information she had just heard. She was both confused, horrified, and worried. She knew the person in front of her was Soviet, but the idea that he was so alienated, in this manor with the family she had served for years... Suddenly, she worried for the young master.

But she didn't want to create a diplomatic incident by asking too many questions. The Baron would not be lenient.

So she nodded and stepped aside to reveal the chair next to her. She silently invited the Soldier to sit, and he did, letting the woman stand behind him to start brushing his hair gently.

Strangely, there was something pleasant and soothing in the gesture. Maybe because it was similar to the bonding ritual between the Soldier and his handler..? Or perhaps it was… a buried, residual memory of the man who once occupied this body..?

He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation, and heard a woman's voice, not Ingrid’s, softer and firmer too, telling him to stay still. He felt the brush glide through his hair, separating the slightly unruly strands, then slender fingers slipping through to pull them gently back and tie them at the nape of his neck.

Where did this memory of this voice come from? This woman spoke English, with an American accent. It must have been a memory of the other. He was American, too, whereas the Soldier was Russian.

He reopened his eyes when Ingrid stepped in front of him to look at the result and smiled with satisfaction. She grabbed a mirror and placed it in front of him, and the Soldier froze at the sight of his own reflection.

He wasn't used to looking at himself in a mirror. He had seen himself in photos, on video recordings, but never directly like this. He found no interest in looking at himself. And yet, at that moment, he stared, scrutinizing himself.

He couldn’t recognize himself. And it wasn’t just because his face was free of hair. He simply didn’t recognize himself at all. He knew, of course, that he had a human appearance, that the man before him was human, but now he realized he looked like other individuals, as if he were one of them, not just a thing, a weapon, or a tool...

He realized he had blue eyes, and he slowly raised a hand to his face as if to verify if it was real. And it was. He was experiencing an “out-of-body” experience. He was looking at himself, but with the feeling that it wasn’t really him.

“Very charming,” Ingrid said in English, satisfied with her work despite her previous concern. “Now, the outfit.”

The woman moved around him like a tornado, opening closets, pulling out pants, jackets, shirts of various colors, textures, and patterns, holding them up next to him to test the combinations.

The Soldier lost track of her actions and came back to reality when the woman clapped her hands, a satisfied expression on her face, in front of an outfit laid out flat on the bed. She asked him to try it on, and he complied. He had difficulty getting his metal arm into the shirt sleeve and even more trouble buttoning it because his left hand had little sensory feedback and less dexterity for fine grips.

Ingrid then helped him button the shirt and checked the too-tight sleeve. She muttered something in Sokovian that the Soldier didn't understand before grabbing a pair of scissors and bringing them towards his left shoulder. 

The Soldier suddenly grabbed the woman’s wrist in mid-air, staring at her intensely, and she stiffened under the sudden fear that engulfed her. She stepped back as he released her, and with his right hand, the Soldier tore off the left sleeve. 

Shocked by such force, Ingrid remained silent for a moment. Tearing off a shirt sleeve in one motion proved to her that perhaps the person before her was not human. 

She slowly stepped forward, resuming her task of dressing him, and helped him put on his jacket. She placed a small red handkerchief as a final touch in his breast pocket, echoing the red star on his now-hidden arm.

“ Ďakujem Thank you,” he said to try to relax her.

“ Nemáte začo. You're welcome.”

Without holding him back, she let him leave the room before she herself took the Soldier’s uniform to the laundry. 

When the Soldier returned to the ground floor, all the servants were bustling to finish the preparations. The young master seemed to have disappeared, but the Baron stood near the musicians who were setting up the small orchestra.

“Well,” said the Baron, surprised by the Soldier’s appearance, who struggled to recognize him without his mask. “I hoped you would go unnoticed tonight, but apparently, everyone will have their eyes on you for a completely different reason, Sir…” He paused before letting out a small laugh. “I just addressed you formally, that’s the effect it has. The outfit and appearance completely change others' perception.” He placed a firm hand on his shoulder to immobilize him and lifted his chin with his other hand to inspect the Soldier more closely. “You’ve seen Ingrid, apparently…” He smiled, still seeing that empty look in the Soldier’s eyes. “She did a good job…” He nodded to himself before letting go and observing him. “Try to be ‘human’ if someone approaches you tonight.” He paused. “HYDRA taught you that, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he said, patting his cheek. “No weapons.”

No weapons.

That wasn’t a problem, he could kill someone with his bare hands if needed, or use whatever was at hand for that purpose. 

Without saying anything more, the Baron gestured for him to follow him into the small office next to the reception room to be quieter, away from the strange waltz of the servants. 

The man approached a cabinet to take out a crystal glass and a bottle of cognac. He poured himself a small amount, then walked to one of his large Chesterfield armchairs before sitting down, crossing his legs, and sipping his drink. 

The Soldier remained motionless in front of him, arms behind his back in a military position, waiting for what the Baron expected of him.

“Soldier,” he began, swirling the amber drink in his glass. “A man named Alexei Antonov will be at this gala tonight.” He tilted his head, observing the Soldier. “He is my direct rival in the country’s ministerial elections. He has a few points ahead of me, so keep an eye on him.” The Soldier nodded subtly. “The difference between Alexei and I is that I am closer to the people than he is. His campaign relies solely on the votes of his loyal followers and those who've been paid a bribe.” He smiled, strangely similar to the young master’s smile. “The people’s voices are stronger than those of corrupt politicians. He fears that in the final round, I will win, which is highly likely to happen, given the narrow margin we have.” He finished his drink in one gulp and placed the glass on the table with a clink. “I think he will try something tonight. If he tries anything, I want you to react quickly.” He took a deep breath. “If he should lose his life, do it smartly, I don’t want to be accused of his death.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Baron sighed contentedly before relaxing further and smoothing out his outfit. Of course, the Soldier wasn't going to question the directives he had just received. He was there to protect the Zemo family, even if it meant eliminating people to do so. Helping the Baron rise politically was also part of his missions. 

It wouldn't be the first time he intervened on a political level by killing people. Shaping, creating, and rewriting history was what HYDRA did best. The Soldier remembered assassinating President Kennedy for HYDRA. They had made sure he remembered it, as this event had been a turning point in history and for HYDRA. The organization had been so proud of him that they had left him with this memory as a trophy.

This memory suddenly brought him a certain pleasure. He had been rewarded that time. He hadn't been reset in the chair, hadn't been immediately plunged into cryostasis; he had been congratulated by his handler and had the privilege of taking a bath with him, which had strengthened their bond. He remembered eating chocolate and feeling happy.

He came back to himself when he heard the Baron clear his throat. He looked at him, questioning with his eyes.

“I am proud to have the Winter Soldier by my side. Now, I can't wait to see you in action.” The Soldier nodded. “Don't disappoint me.”

“You will not be disappointed, Sir.”

Chapter Text

The evening of the gala finally arrived, bathing the Zemo manor in a warm golden glow. Chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling, casting dancing shadows on the walls adorned with paintings. The guests, dressed in their finest attire, moved gracefully through the grand ballroom, where soft classical music played by an orchestra enveloped the atmosphere in timeless elegance. The tables were laden with refined delicacies: caviar, foie gras, delicate canapés, and champagne flutes sparkling in the hands of the guests.

The Soldier stood apart from the crowd, dressed in a classic black tuxedo that perfectly fit his athletic frame and concealed his metal arm. Only his silver fingers were visible, if one dared to look closely. Without his mask, his face was finally visible, revealing the fine features of a man in his thirties and piercing blue eyes. His mid-length brown hair, usually slightly tousled, was tied back in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, and a few days’ growth of beard added a touch of ruggedness and charm to his appearance.

He appeared isolated, but his vigilant gaze swept across the room, analyzing every movement, every face, in search of the slightest sign of suspicion. His mission of protection took precedence over all other considerations.

Among the guests, Baron Heinrich Zemo stood out with his imposing presence and natural charisma. He moved from group to group, shaking hands, exchanging smiles and kind words. The Soldier watched him closely, ready to intervene at the slightest threat.

" Neverím ..! I can't believe it..!"

The Soldier startled slightly when young Zemo suddenly appeared before him, his eyes wide, fixed on the Soldier, his mouth open in astonishment.

How had the Soldier not heard him approaching? Was it his concentration? The music?

Helmut stared at the Soldier unabashedly, overwhelmed by disbelief as he had spotted the Soldier from the other side of the reception hall. He hadn’t recognized him without his mask and assassin’s uniform. And now, standing before him, he was stunned. The Soldier was... magnificent…

Helmut's heart raced. He had always known the Soldier was charming, but seeing him like this, in a new light, exceeded all his expectations.

The young master was accustomed to refined appearances and elegant surroundings, but what he saw at that moment left him speechless. Though the Soldier was intimidating in his Winter Soldier guise, in this simple but perfect tuxedo, he exuded a magnetic presence, a brutal and intense beauty that captured the attention of everyone who looked at him, especially Helmut.

The Soldier was handsome, with a gravity that added to his mystery.

"You are..." Helmut cleared his throat to regain his composure. "very elegant like this," he said, unable to hide the amazement in his voice. He smiled, his eyes shining with sincere admiration. "I would never have recognized you. You are truly stunning."

The Soldier looked into the young master’s eyes, suppressing a sigh of pleasure at the praise. He must not forget that he wasn’t wearing his mask, and he couldn’t afford to show that he was sensitive and receptive to such words. Despite this restraint, a slight feeling of pride welled up in him, a rare and precious sensation. But he remained focused on his mission, aware of the importance of his task that night.

"Thank you," he replied simply, his voice steady but with a touch of gentleness. "But I must stay focused. That's why I'm here."

Helmut nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation but unable to resist staying close to the Soldier, drawn by this protective and reassuring presence.

He leaned against the wall just beside him and called over a passing waiter to grab a glass of champagne, which he began to sip.

Together, they observed the proceedings of the gala, one with the keen eyes of a protector, the other with a heart racing with a new, troubling emotion.

That was something unexpected.

The evening progressed with grandeur and anticipation as Baron Heinrich Zemo, distinguished in his bespoke suit and imposing presence, made his way to the center of the grand ballroom. The guests had gathered, their conversations quieting in anticipation of the Baron's speech, a crucial moment in the evening's festivities. Helmut observed attentively from his vantage point, discreetly scrutinizing the Baron's movements while casting occasional glances at the Soldier beside him. The atmosphere was filled with admiration for the Baron and an underlying tension stemming from political uncertainties between Sokovia and the United States.

Baron Zemo cleared his throat, his voice resonating through the room with authority and charisma.

"Ladies and gentlemen, dear guests," he began, his words deliberate and measured. "Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate but also to think. Our nation stands at a crossroads, where the decisions made tonight will shape our future."

His speech addressed themes of sovereignty, unity, and the challenges facing Sokovia on the global political stage. He emphasized the importance of alliances, economic stability, and defending Sokovian interests against external pressures. Each word was carefully chosen to resonate with the elite audience, expressing strength and resolution. Helmut glanced at the Soldier, noting his unwavering focus on the Baron. Despite the elegance and charm he had displayed moments before, the Soldier's demeanor now reflected that of a dedicated sentinel, ever vigilant and ready to protect.

At the conclusion of his speech, applause filled the air, mingled with murmurs of approval and respect. Captivated by the drama unfolding that evening, Helmut turned to the Soldier with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you think?" Helmut asked in a low voice, barely audible above the crowd's murmur. "About his speech?"

"His words are calculated," he replied evenly. The Soldier's gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. "He knows what he's talking about."

Helmut nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the Soldier's brief yet insightful response. Despite the festive atmosphere, underlying tensions simmered beneath the surface, palpable to those attuned to the nuances of power and diplomacy.

As the gala evening extended into the night, Helmut and the Soldier remained on the periphery, observing the ebb and flow of conversations, noting forged alliances and tacitly broken ones. The evening promised intrigue and revelations, where every glance, every exchanged word could hold significance in the complex dance of politics and influence.

For the young man standing alongside this enigmatic Soldier, it was a night of discovery—a journey into the depths of alliances, power dynamics, and perhaps an unexpected exploration of the true nature of a man shrouded in mystery.

They were brought back to the present moment when the Baron himself approached them. The younger man cursed under his breath, understanding what would follow.

"Helmut, please come with me. Allow me to introduce you to some people."

The young man followed his father reluctantly through the maze of guests, well aware of the importance of these superficial encounters for his family's reputation and alliances. He had never been passionate about the political aspect of the Zemo family or HYDRA's manipulations. It was a part of his heritage that he accepted with resignation rather than enthusiasm. Yet, as a Zemo, he had to play his role, maintaining appearances despite his own disagreements.

As he followed his father, Helmut grabbed a fourth glass of champagne, congratulating himself internally for this small, silent rebellion. If he could embarrass his father for just a few moments by having drunk a little too much at the gala, it might provide a small respite in this evening of protocols and hypocrisy.

The introductions continued, each name echoing in the air filled with cigar smoke and expensive perfume. Helmut greeted politely, smiled cordially, all while keeping an eye on the Soldier who discreetly followed them. He noticed that the Soldier's presence brought a certain comfort, a silent reminder of integrity and determination amid this world of pretenses.

While his father exchanged pleasantries and veiled promises with various influential guests, Helmut let his mind wander. He thought about his own aspirations, far from the power intrigues and facade alliances. Perhaps there was a different path for him, away from the shadow of HYDRA and political scheming. But for now, he had to play the game, conform to the expectations imposed by his name and heritage.

The Soldier, always vigilant, kept a respectful distance, observing each exchange with impassive attention. His role as a silent protector was clear, even amid this evening of festivities and power plays. Helmut wondered what the Soldier thought of all this, this world of appearances and manipulations.

As the night slowly progressed, Helmut felt increasingly disconnected from this artificial reality. He struggled to maintain a mask of politeness and assent, even as his thoughts wandered to more authentic and free horizons, and his eyes continually darted between the guests and the Soldier.

Helmut felt the effects of the alcohol dulling his thoughts as he tried to keep a serious face during the sterile political conversations. He had reached his quota of champagne for the evening and began to feel the urgent need to slip away. With a vague pretext about needing to refresh himself, he politely excused himself from his father and the other guests, then discreetly headed toward the stairs leading to his room.

The Soldier, true to his duty, found himself at a crossroads. He felt Helmut's questioning gaze as he weighed the difficult choice between staying by the Baron's side or following the young Zemo. His duty was clear, but a part of him felt drawn to the young master's troubling presence. However, after a moment of reflection, he opted for loyalty to the Baron, knowing that his responsibility took precedence.

Helmut, a bit disappointed but understanding the Soldier's decision, leaned close to his ear to whisper.

" You can join me later in the night, after the gala. "

Then, without waiting for an answer, he left the room, leaving the Soldier troubled by this brief but significant interaction.

The Soldier watched Helmut walk away, a strange feeling of confusion and intrigue gripping him. The young Zemo's words echoed in his mind, disturbing the impenetrable facade he had worked so hard to maintain. In this world of political calculations and fragile alliances, an unexpected connection was forming, challenging the limits of his role as protector.

While he remained by Baron Zemo's side, his gaze occasionally drifted into the void, absorbed by thoughts that found no immediate answer. 

The night wore on, but for the Winter Soldier, a new dynamic had just been established—a dynamic where duty and emotions seemed to intertwine, creating a palpable tension in the increasingly sparse ballroom air.

It was nearly two in the morning when the manor was finally empty, and the Baron turned to the Soldier.

" D'obrú robotu si urobil dnes večer You did a good job this evening," he began, his piercing eyes fixing on the Soldier with cold admiration. "You drew attention but didn't arouse suspicion. Without your uniform, your mask, and your visible arm, it was as if you were undercover. I appreciate that."

He paused, scrutinizing the Soldier as if to evaluate his response before continuing.

"Thank you for watching over my son during the evening. I feared that Antonov might target him while I was preoccupied with the festivities and my speech. I will make a favorable report to Strucker."

The Baron nodded, indicating that the Soldier could now retire for the night.

"A room has been prepared for you in the guest wing upstairs, if you need it. Although, I wonder if you even feel the need to sleep."

The Soldier, appreciating the praise, bowed respectfully.

"Thank you, Baron," he replied, his voice low and steady.

The Baron nodded and headed to his Suite, leaving the Soldier alone in the now-silent grand hall.

Unsure of what to do next, the Soldier recalled the young Zemo's proposition. The memory of his words whispered near his ear still resonated in his mind.

You can join me later in the night, after the gala.

Intrigued and slightly troubled by this invitation, the Soldier slowly made his way to the stairs. Each step echoed in the silent manor. As he ascended, he passed the doors of the guest rooms but continued to the young Zemo's room.

Arriving at the door, he hesitated for a moment. He wasn't used to following his own desires or curiosities. His life had been dictated by orders and missions. But tonight, something was different. He knocked softly on the door.

"Come in," said a voice from the other side.

The Soldier pushed the door open and entered the room. Helmut was sitting by the window, a half-empty glass of champagne in his hand. His eyes lit up when he saw the Soldier enter.

"I wondered if you would come," he said with a smile.

The Soldier closed the door behind him, standing there, uncertain of what awaited him. But for once, perhaps, he was ready to find out.

Chapter Text

He remained silent for a moment, observing young Zemo with cautious curiosity. He was not accustomed to following his own desires or curiosities; it was entirely foreign to him and punishable if he dared to do so. His life had been dictated by orders and missions, and punishments when he disobeyed.

But tonight, something was different. He slowly advanced into the room, each step echoing slightly in the silence of the chamber.

“I…” he articulated with difficulty, as if he couldn't speak on his own behalf. “…didn’t know if… it was appropriate,” he finally replied, his voice low and steady.

The young man stood up, placing the champagne glass on a small table near the window. He approached the Soldier, his eyes scrutinizing his with a troubling intensity.

“Appropriate or not, you are here now,” he murmured.

The Soldier felt a wave of contradictory emotions overwhelm him. A wave of well-being, anticipation, but also apprehension and fear. He was not used to these personal interactions, especially not with someone like Helmut Zemo. But there was something in the young man's gaze, a mix of vulnerability and strength, that irresistibly drew him in, pushing him to override the orders given and his conditioning.

“You wanted… to ask me something?” he inquired, trying to understand the reason for this invitation.

Perhaps young Zemo expected something from him. It wouldn't be the first time he was asked to respond to the desires of his handlers and protegés. Whatever the desire. Whatever the orders given to him.

The younger man gave a slight, almost timid smile, understanding that the Soldier was probably getting the wrong idea. He had guessed the kind of things that could be asked of him, and knowing that the Soldier would comply without question pained him deeply.

Even if the Soldier intrigued and attracted him, Helmut would never lower himself to such baseness.

“In a way. I just wanted… to get to know you a bit better, actually.” He cocked his head slightly. “Without all these formalities and obligations.” He paused, his eyes dropping slightly before returning to the Soldier's. “You know,” he continued, suddenly wanting to confess, “I'm tired of all this. Of this life of appearances and manipulations. Sometimes, I feel like I'm suffocating. And in those moments, I almost wish my father would stop his political projects and leave this miserable organization that is HYDRA.”

“I understand,” he said simply. “I often feel that way too.”

The Soldier's eyes widened, as if his lips had moved on their own, and those words had come from someone else's brain. He had absolutely no right to say that. He wasn't even allowed to speak or question HYDRA's authority. He was going to be severely punished for such defiance.

Panic suddenly shone in the Soldier's eyes, and fear began to darken his face.

Young Zemo seemed surprised by this admission, but also comforted to see that there was indeed a man behind this so-called Weapon of HYDRA. He moved even closer, until he was just a few centimeters from the Soldier, raising a hand to lightly touch the black bow tie around his neck, like a dog's collar reminding everyone that he belonged to someone.

“Maybe tonight…” He looked up into the Soldier's eyes, whispering. “…we could just be ourselves? Away from the expectations and obligations of our… fathers and handlers…”

The Soldier didn't respond immediately, realizing the betrayal it would be against HYDRA and against Strucker and Karpov. He simply observed the young master, feeling the sincerity in his words to avoid exposing himself for nothing. Nevertheless, something bothered him. He didn't understand what the young man meant by being ourselves.

“I… don't understand…” he said softly. “I am already myself.”

Speaking about himself in the first person out loud was something that disturbed him. He wasn't supposed to formulate anything personal. He could say “I do this,” “I do that,” “I'll take care of it,” but not “I don't understand,” “I feel that too,” and many other phrases he might have formulated in the presence of the young master since they met. It all sounded different when the young man was around him.

Young Zemo smiled sadly, his eyes bright with alcohol and emotion.

“You are what they want you to be, Солдат…” He took a deep breath, seeing the storm of emotions, of confusion in HYDRA's Armed Hand at the name said in russian. He seemed to like it. “But deep down, behind… what they did to you to make you like this… There's someone… A human, with a soul… Not a weapon.”

The young master stepped back slowly, giving the Soldier more space to breathe through these strong emotions that overwhelmed him, but also to breathe better himself, feeling the alcohol and the Soldier's proximity suddenly go to his head. He took his champagne glass left on the small table and took a sip, his eyes locked on the Soldier's.

“Tell me your life, Солдат.” The latter looked at him with a more focused look. “How were you born, what have you lived through, what did they do to you…” He took another sip. “I want to know everything…”

The Soldier remained silent, his gaze dark and lost. Talking about his past, his sufferings, and his erased memories was like opening an old, deep wound, and he didn’t know if he was allowed to talk about what his brain could remember at this point. But there was something in the young master's eyes, a glimmer of understanding and compassion that encouraged him to confess.

Suddenly feeling his body heat increase with anticipation, the Soldier removed his suit jacket, revealing his left arm, exposing the metal arm and the famous red star. 

Helmut gave a smile, finding it amusing that the Soldier had torn off the sleeve for better freedom of movement.

“I never had a life before HYDRA,” he began slowly, the words seeming illogical now that they were spoken aloud. “They made me this way through a long… more or less painful process. For decades, I’ve been a weapon for them. The Winter Soldier is my only identity.” He paused. “That I know of, at least…” He frowned. “I know that before me, there was another man who occupied this body... But he no longer exists today, there is only me.”

Helmut listened attentively, his eyes never leaving the Soldier’s.

“They sometimes erase my memories after missions, and before putting me in cryostasis.” He lowered his gaze. “Or to punish me…” he said in a low voice. “When they wake me up, I sometimes no longer have the same Handler, and a lot of time has passed...” He looked into the young man's eyes. “They control me through a system of punishments and rewards, and with…” He hesitated, should he tell him about it? “and with… words…” He avoided the young master's gaze. “Only the Handler knows them… to become, precisely, my only and unique Handler, to better use and control me…”

Helmut felt a deep anger rise within him upon hearing all these confessions, and it was at this moment, despite the alcohol running through his veins, that he understood that the Soldier was dangerously putting himself in danger by talking about all this. He had always known that HYDRA was ruthless, but hearing it from the Soldier’s mouth made the reality even crueler. He wanted to throw up.

“You are much more than that,” Helmut murmured, his eyes shining with emotion as he approached him, gently lifting his face by the chin. “You are a man, not a weapon.”

The Soldier lowered his eyes, struggling against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, and unable to bear the anger burning in the young man's eyes. He knew it was directed at HYDRA, not himself, but the feeling of guilt and disappointment burned his insides. Helmut Zemo was not his Handler, yet the Soldier felt as if he were just the same.

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted in a low voice. “My whole life, I’ve been defined by what HYDRA wanted me to be. An assassin, a tool… An asset.”

Helmut withdrew his hand from his chin to slide his fingertips over the Soldier’s silver arm.

“We will find a way,” he said softly, fascinated by the sight and the slight hum coming from the prosthesis. “Together.” He looked up at the Soldier while gently taking his metal hand in his. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

The Soldier looked up at young Zemo, a glimmer of hope beginning to shine in his eyes. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for him to become the man he once was, or at least to finally discover who he truly was outside HYDRA's grasp.

He nodded gently, and the younger man smiled.

The young Zemo, feeling the fatigue and intensity of the evening weighing on both of them, offered a gentle smile and invited the Soldier to rest.

"I think you need to rest after all these strong emotions tonight," he said softly. "Come, let's go to sleep."

But the Soldier remained motionless, unsure of what he should do. He was not used to taking such initiatives without a clear order. Helmut, seeing his hesitation, smiled even more tenderly and made a decision to help him.

"You can spend the night with me, if you wish," he suggested. "It will allow you to keep watch over me, and maybe it will help you find some peace as well."

The Soldier immediately realized that, although it seemed like a suggestion, it was actually a subtle order. The young Zemo understood that this action could be considered too intimate, and he didn't want the Soldier to feel forced into doing something he didn't want to do. Emphasizing that it was primarily about protection reassured the Soldier and maintained his dignity while executing his mission.

"As you wish, Master," he replied, his tone respectful and obedient.

The young master nodded, satisfied, and headed to the bed, inviting the Soldier to follow. He was used to being called Master, but hearing it from the Soldier's mouth felt different. He felt butterflies in his stomach and took a deep breath to calm the misplaced sensation.

The young Zemo then lay down on his bed, on the side closest to the bathroom, leaving space for the Soldier to settle on the other side. The young man slipped under the blankets because of the cold and left the decision to the Soldier, if he wished. 

He smiled when he saw him hesitantly take his place, keeping his clothes on, and lying immobile on his back.

"Good night, Солдат," Zemo murmured, his eyes closing gently.

The Soldier, still a bit tense but strangely comforted by the young Zemo's presence, finally gave in to the fatigue. He realized that, for the first time in a long while, he was going to sleep with a sense of protection and understanding.

It was supposed to be him giving a sense of protection to the young Master, not the other way around.

His emotions were truly in disarray tonight.

"Good night, Master," he replied softly before closing his eyes, ready to keep watch over the younger man while finding some respite in his tumultuous life.

Chapter Text

The Soldier subtly awoke to an unusual noise in the middle of the night. He remained motionless in the bed, sensing the reassuring presence of the young master asleep beside him, but he detected another presence in the room. Pretending to sleep, his eyes closed, he used his superhuman hearing to locate the intruder, analyzing every step, every movement.

Tension mounted as the intruder silently approached the bed. When the Soldier felt the presence only a few centimeters away, he abruptly opened his eyes and, with a swift and precise movement, grabbed the intruder by the throat with his metal arm.

The intruder, dressed in black and hooded, was about to stab the young master, the knife glinting in his hand. Panicking, he tried to stab the Soldier instead, but the latter, with superhuman strength, violently tore the weapon from his hands. A struggle broke out on the bed, waking the young master with a start at the sound of the man in black's choking. He shot up, his heart pounding, his eyes wide with terror, and backed against the headboard, pressing himself flat against it.

Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the Soldier remained calm, like a predator in a hunt. He crushed the intruder's larynx under his fingers, holding him firmly above the bed, preventing any movement and breath. Seeing the knife glint under the faint moonlight in his other hand, the Soldier plunged it into the intruder's carotid artery with cold and lethal precision.

Blood spurted, splattering the bed, the Soldier, and the young master, who was mute and frozen with terror.

The intruder convulsed violently, his spasms shaking the blood-soaked bed, before going still, lifeless.

The Soldier released his grip, letting the body fall heavily to the floor with a dull thud.

His gaze immediately turned to the young master, his expression a mix of extreme concentration and concern.

"Master, are you hurt?" the Soldier asked, his voice firm but tinged with worry.

Helmut slowly shook his head, his eyes wide open, still in shock. His nightclothes were smeared with blood and clung to his body. The viscous liquid was still warm, and a metallic smell filled his nostrils. Suddenly, his breathing became erratic, post-traumatic panic surfacing abruptly, and his body shook violently before letting out a scream of terror, finally realizing what had just happened.

The Soldier grabbed him by the shoulders, positioning himself better to catch his attention, knowing it was focused on the horrific scene that had just unfolded before his eyes.

"Master..!" The younger man whimpered in horror and shock, and the Soldier lifted his chin to meet his gaze. "Look at me..!"

Still breathing frantically, young Zemo locked his hazel eyes with the Soldier's icy ones, noticing a splash of blood across his face. But a glimmer shone in his eyes, a mix of predation and protection, like a wild animal that had acted to save its own life and his.

Gradually realizing his condition, Helmut tried to regain control of his breathing, unconsciously syncing with the Soldier's steady, deep rhythm.

"I... I'm fine," he murmured, still trembling. "But you, you..." He raised a trembling hand towards the Soldier's face to move a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. "...you saved my life..."

The Soldier nodded gently, not to disturb the younger man, but kept a vigilant eye on the room, ready for anything.

"You are under my protection," he said simply, but realized his tone was harsher than he intended. "Stay in the bed for a moment, I need to inspect the room."

Helmut nodded quickly, trying to calm his breathing, feeling a sudden emptiness as the Soldier's hands left his shoulders.

He watched the Soldier get out of bed, moving carefully to avoid making noise or slipping in the blood that had pooled on the floor and down his body. He checked every corner of the room, behind the curtains, in the adjacent bathroom, before returning to the body on the floor near the bed.

He squatted, pulled off the intruder's hood with a swift motion, and revealed a man, perhaps in his thirties. Without a doubt, this man was skilled in infiltration and assassination. Without the Soldier's superhuman senses, no one would have heard the intruder enter the room, and killing his victim with a knife in their sleep was the quietest and most effective method he knew. No cruelty, just quick and efficient. He was familiar with this procedure, having carried out similar missions himself.

He stood up silently and glanced at the young master. He needed to alert the Baron and inspect the rest of the manor. The Baron might even be dead by now.

He was about to leave the room in large strides but froze in place when he heard the younger man's voice break behind him.

"Wait..!"

He turned and realized he couldn't leave the young master alone in this room. Even if he locked himself in, someone could reach the room using the vine attached to the trellis against the facade. It was out of the question to expose the young master again. Then seeing him in this state, covered in blood, his face panicked, and his eyes pleading, he took a deep breath.

"Come."

He opened his metal arm as an invitation but was surprised to feel young Zemo's body collide with his in barely a few seconds. His arms wrapped tightly around his waist, with all his strength, though it seemed diminished by the fear gripping the young man.

"You are safe with me, I promise."

Helmut looked up at the Soldier. He knew he was safe; the Soldier had just saved his life. But he didn't want to be alone, he was scared, he had to admit it. He was ready to leave the room and face hell as long as he was with the Soldier. Slowly, he released the Soldier's waist, straightening up a bit more, and roughly wiping the blood from his face. He nodded, and the Soldier did the same.

Together, they left the room, the Soldier maintaining a protective stance, keeping the younger man behind him as they entered the hallway. He ensured the way was clear, the assailant's knife in his right hand.

"Thank you," the younger man managed to say at last, his voice barely audible, tinged with emotion and gratitude.

The Soldier glanced sideways at him, focused on his mission of inspection and protection, but conveyed through his look that he had heard him well. He tried to convey reassurance with his clear gaze before continuing down the corridor towards the stairs.

For the first time, the Soldier felt a connection forming with the young master. It wasn't something dictated by orders or his mission, but by a genuine desire to protect this specific person. A new personal mission was born in his heart, beyond HYDRA's directives.

Silently descending the dark hallways of the manor, his superhuman hearing picking up every creak of the wood beneath their feet, he remained vigilant, knife ready for any eventuality. The young master followed closely, breathing heavily and senses on alert, still shaken by the violent attack.

The manor was engulfed in oppressive darkness, only disturbed by rare moonbeams filtering through the windows. The Soldier moved with unwavering precision and determination, his eyes sweeping every shadow, every corner, searching for any sign of danger.

When they reached the Baron's bedroom door, the Soldier gestured for Helmut to stay back. With a silent gesture, he opened the door, prepared to face whatever lay inside. The Baron, startled awake in his bed, looked first at the Soldier, then at his son covered in blood, eyes wide with terror.

"What is this all about ?" exclaimed the Baron, attempting to conceal his concern behind a mask of anger.

"There was an assassin in your son's room," the Soldier replied, his voice calm but firm. "He's been neutralized. But we need to inspect the rest of the manor to ensure there are no other threats."

"What?" The Baron sat up, getting out of bed and rushing towards his only son to inspect him closely. " Si zranený ? Si v poriadku ? Are you hurt ? Are you alright ?" the Baron asked his son, worried by all the blood.

" Som v poriadku, to nie je moja krv. Vojak mi zachránil život, otec. I'm fine, it's not my blood. The Soldier saved my life, Father." the younger man replied, trying to  reassure him.

The Baron looked up at the Soldier, his gaze filled with gratitude and appreciation, before gently releasing his son, relieved that he was unharmed.

Understanding the gravity of the situation, the Baron turned to the Soldier.

"Very well, let's quickly check the manor."

The Soldier signaled for the young master to stay close as they left the Baron's room to continue their inspection.

The manor seemed calm, almost peaceful, but the Soldier knew better than to trust appearances. Every room, every corridor was meticulously examined, yet he detected no other hostile presence.

Finally, after a thorough inspection, the Soldier turned to the young master and the Baron.

"There are no more dangerous threats. The manor is secure."

The Baron nodded, relieved but still on guard.

"Thank you, Soldier," he said, looking at him for a moment. "Where is our intruder?"

"Still in your son's room."

At that moment, they heard a shout from upstairs. Without hesitation, the Soldier dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as quiet as a cat. He arrived near the master's bedroom, now illuminated, knife drawn, ready to strike an enemy or throw his knife to them, but found only a man in his sixties, standing in the middle of the room, pale and horror-stricken.

"Oeznik!" exclaimed the Baron, arriving behind him, out of breath, recognizing his butler. "Are you alright?"

"Oh!" He started at the erupting fall at the entry of the room. "There is a dead man here, Sir! The bed is stained with blood, and your son is--" He was cut short when he saw the young master standing with his father in the entrance, the older one who sighed lengthily in relief, feeling his legs almost buckling under his weight. "Thank God, you're alive, young one..."

The Baron entered the room, reassured his butler, and approached the man lying on the floor near the bed. His throat had been slit, and that explained the blood everywhere.

"Antonov’s hitman, I bet..." He touched the man's face with the tip of his shoe to get a better look and sighed. "You did well to react quickly, Soldier." He turned to the Soldier. "How did you manage to arrive at the scene so quickly?”The Soldier's gaze fell on the young master, and he hesitated to tell the truth. Perhaps he couldn't reveal that he had been sharing the same bed as the Baron's son during the attack. But he couldn't lie; it went against his nature. He saw the young master anchor his eyes in his and nod.

"He was with me," Helmut said, looking at his father. "I had asked him to come and watch over my room after the gala." He took a deep breath. "The altercation started near the bed and ended up into it... That’s why it looks this way, the Soldier too and even myself…”

"My duty is to watch over you and the young master," declared the Soldier, addressing the Baron.

Helmut, still shaken but grateful, gently grasped the Soldier's flesh arm in his hands, silently thanking him with his eyes and lightly squeezing his bicep. The Soldier nodded, feeling a new strength rising within him. Protecting Helmut Zemo was not just a mission; it was a personal commitment, a promise he would make sure to uphold.

"Rest, Master," he said softly, looking at the younger man. "I will watch over you," he glanced up at the Baron, "both of you, if needed."

The Baron shook his head and entrusted the Soldier to watch over his son. He had a weapon in his room; his son was defenseless. The Soldier nodded, and the Baron instructed his son to sleep in one of the guest rooms upstairs. The young master left the room closely followed by the Soldier.

"Oeznik, take care of the body."

"Very well, sir."

The Soldier entered the new room, checking again to ensure it was safe, and let the young man head to the bathroom to remove all the dried blood that had stiffened his skin and clothes.

Meanwhile, the Soldier positioned himself strategically near the entrance door, ready to react to any threat.

When the young master emerged from the bathroom, completely clean, with wet hair and wrapped in a robe, he looked at the Soldier.

"You should go clean up too..." He managed a gentle smile, despite what they had just been through. "You'll feel more comfortable too."

"I must watch over you."

Helmut approached him, near the door, and locked it by turning the latch, his eyes still locked with the Soldier's.

"There are no footholds on the outer wall leading to this room, you saw it for yourself this afternoon."

"It would be too risky."

"Well," Helmut said, tilting his head, reflecting but already having the idea firmly in mind. "I could just come with you into the bathroom." The Soldier looked at him, both confused and surprised. "I'll help, if needed."

The Soldier hesitated for a moment, scrutinizing the determined eyes of the young master, then nodded. He knew that refusing would only heighten the younger man's concern, and a part of him, buried deep, desired this closeness.

"Very well," he finally replied. "But let's stay vigilant."

Helmut nodded with a reassuring smile and guided the Soldier into the bathroom. The bathtub was already filled with warm water - he had anticipated it - steam rising gently, creating a soothing atmosphere despite the recent events. Without a word, the Soldier undressed, his movements precise and methodical, revealing a body covered in scars, silent witnesses to many battles, but most prominently displaying those at the junction of his metal arm.

He stepped into the bathtub, the warm water enveloping his tense body, and settled in, closing his eyes for a moment to savor this rare feeling of relaxation.

The young master sat on a stool nearby, sleeves rolled up, ready to take care of him, making sure the metal arm stayed out of the water. He didn't know if it could be submerged or if the temperature might be uncomfortable for it.

With unexpected gentleness, Helmut began pouring water over the Soldier's hair, using a small pitcher. Every movement was measured, filled with respect and attention. The young master applied soap and began gently massaging the Soldier's scalp, his fingers gliding over the taut skin, slowly removing dried and coagulated blood.

The Soldier, accustomed to much rougher interactions, found himself unexpectedly appreciating this gentleness. He closed his eyes, letting himself be guided by the younger man's touch. It was a ritual almost identical to the one he shared with his handler, but there was a tenderness and humanity in the young master's gestures that made all the difference.

"You know," young Zemo said softly, breaking the silence, "I never imagined I would have to go through something like this... But I'm grateful you were here."

The Soldier opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to meet Helmut's gaze.

"It's my duty to protect you," he replied simply, though he knew what he felt went far beyond duty, and perhaps that wasn't what the young master wanted to hear.

"Yes, but it's more than just your duty." Helmut nodded, a sad smile on his lips. "You chose to protect me, to stay by my side. And for that, I am grateful, from the bottom of my heart..."

The young master's fingers continued their work, massaging gently, rinsing off soap and accumulated dirt.

The Soldier allowed himself to be tended to, appreciating this closeness, this deep bond forming between them. He realized a part of him wished the young master could be his handler, someone he could trust completely, someone who would watch over him as much as he watched over young Zemo.

The young master, focused on his task, seemed to feel this connection too. He took care not to overstep boundaries, respecting the distance while being incredibly close.

When the Soldier's hair was finally free of any dirt, Helmut took a towel and began drying the damp strands gently. Every gesture was a caress, every movement a testament to the affection and respect he held for the Soldier.

"There," he finally said, his voice soft. "You're clean now, you should feel more comfortable."

The Soldier sat up slightly in the bathtub, looking at the young master with silent gratitude. He was surprised, however, that the young master handed him a towel while turning his head away, avoiding accidentally seeing the Soldier naked. The Soldier was used to being exposed, observed; he wasn't considered human, had no modesty, because he wasn't supposed to feel any embarrassment about it. But strangely, he was grateful for the young master's respectful demeanor.

"Thank you, Master..." he murmured, his words sincere. "What you just did..." He pursed his lips as he wrapped the towel around his body. "...means a lot to me."

Helmut heard him get out of the bathtub and knew he could look at him again. There was a comforting warmth in his eyes, and he gave the Soldier a sincere smile.

"We're a duo, you and I. We'll watch over each other. That's a promise."

The Soldier was moved by how the young master cared for him. He didn't need protection, but he liked the idea that the young master cared about his well-being and safety. Like a handler would, but even better.

Young Zemo then returned to the bedroom, letting the Soldier follow, and they each dressed in jogging pants for the night, found in a closet. Helmut slipped under the new, colder and less familiar sheets, and the Soldier positioned himself beside him, as he had earlier in the night.

Once they were immersed in darkness, silence settled in, and after long minutes lost in his tumultuous thoughts, the Soldier felt the young master, deeply asleep, pressing against him, seeking contact and warmth by his side.

The Soldier took a deep breath, feeling a sensation welling up in his chest.

What was this feeling...?

Chapter Text

The blow was so violent that his head was thrown to the right, leaving his vision briefly blurred and tingling on his left cheek. He knew he wouldn't bruise, but the pain was real, though brief. He took a slow breath, repositioning his head to its original position, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his long hair falling in front of his face.

He deserved to be punished; that was why he didn't try to defend himself. He had no right to rebel against his handler. It would be the most terrible act, although it was physically impossible for him. It was part of his programming: never to turn against his superiors. And it had never happened, not even in the most terrible circumstances. At least, he didn't remember. Besides, any circumstances were normal for him. There was no good or evil. Whatever his handler decided for him was the thing to do, indisputable, like divine will.

The second blow to his face caused him to lose his balance slightly, despite already being kneeling on the hard, cold concrete.

"You disobeyed, Солдат," Karpov said, his voice severe with a hint of disappointment. "You dared to think of escaping me, dared to plot against HYDRA, against the USSR, dared to betray me..!" His tone was full of reproach. "You belong to me, your body, your soul, your mind belong to me..!"

He didn't remember doing such things, but he had no right to contradict his handler, especially when he was in this state. The Soldier's memory sometimes played tricks on him because of the reboots on the chair, because of the prolonged periods of cryostasis, so if his handler said he had done something wrong, that he had failed somewhere, it could only be the truth. No, he wasn't a man, he didn't have to defend or justify himself.

So he let him hit him again with that baton right in the face, over and over, until he fell flat on his stomach on the ground, his face bloody. The pain pulsed to the rhythm of his heart, with a regularity and calmness that was disconcerting despite the situation. 

He swallowed his own blood, not wanting to stain the floor or dirty his handler's boots, and he lay on his right side, on the cold concrete, his metallic arm completely dead, as he was obligated to do when he was being corrected by his handler. He had no right to harm him, not even accidentally.

"Get up," he ordered, and the Soldier slowly stood up, showing no sign of difficulty or pain, before fixing his gaze back on the ground. "I'm taking you to the Chair, Солдат. You must forget this Helmut Zemo."

When he suddenly opened his eyes, driven by adrenaline and terror, the Soldier saw only darkness, except for the slight glow passing through the thick curtains of the room. His heart was pounding in his chest, deafening him and preventing him from perceiving his surroundings. His breathing was also loud and irregular, and his body was covered in sweat. Then he remembered. He was at the Zemo manor, in the bed, with the young master sleeping peacefully beside him, unaware of the inner torment of the one who was supposed to protect him.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He had no right to, not after what had happened in the middle of the night. If the young Zemo had been killed, he would have been removed from this mission as well as the superhuman mission. He would have been repatriated to Siberia and plunged back into cryostasis, without any congratulations.

You must forget this Helmut Zemo.

He closed his eyes as he heard Karpov's voice in his head again. Why had he dreamed of being punished? And why was he being punished anyway? On second thought, the Soldier knew why, and panic rose within him as he realized that if HYDRA discovered he was starting to feel emotions and feelings, that he could compromise his missions and orders, he would truly be lost. They would punish him as they had in the past, as in his dream, or in a much more degrading manner, which normally did not cause such great anxiety in his very core.

He remembered most of it, as it was part of his conditioning, the orders he was given. No matter the nature or circumstances, he executed or endured without saying or doing anything. That was it. But the prospect that it could happen again began to cause palpitations. It was far too dangerous. The Soldier was playing a dangerous game with the young master, allowing himself to experience these new emotions and inappropriate thoughts. But deep down, that wasn’t what had frightened him the most upon waking him. The corporal punishments were familiar, but... the idea of being reset and forgetting young Zemo was what had jolted him awake so violently.

He knew the young master would cause him problems; he felt it from the moment their eyes first met. Young Zemo was the only one to treat him differently, not just as an object, and it didn’t leave him indifferent. He didn’t want to erase the fragile but real bonds he had started to form with him. Just by reasoning and thinking like this, he was betraying Karpov and HYDRA. This dream was proof of that. Guilt gnawed at him despite the temptation to continue down this path with the young man. He knew that the right thing to do was to report his malfunctions to his superiors, to Strucker first. It was better than being discovered and even more severely punished.

He was terrified. This couldn't keep going. He had made a decision. The Soldier would keep his distance from the younger man from now on, suppress these forbidden budding emotions, and barricade himself behind his mask, whether it be real or emotional. He would do everything in his power to hide his weaknesses from HYDRA, from Karpov, from Strucker, but most importantly from the young master, who had unwittingly become the reason for his failures and fears.

He jumped out of bed when he heard a creak on the floorboards just outside the room by the door and grabbed the letter opener from the small desk in the corner of the room. He moved silently towards the entrance, letter opener in hand like a dagger, as the handle slowly turned and the door opened without a sound. Blood pounding in his temples, the Soldier was ready to pounce on the intruder but froze suddenly upon recognizing the maid named Ingrid.

She widened her eyes in realization, seeing the Soldier pressed against the wall right next to the door frame, letter opener in hand, eyes wide and almost gleaming in the dim light, with an emotionless face.

She was about to scream in terror when the Soldier grabbed her in one fluid motion, pressing his flesh hand over her lips.

“ Shh… ” he whispered in her ear, as the woman’s heart pounded in her chest. “ The young master is sleeping, don’t wake him up… ”

The woman then looked at the figure lying in the bed and began to calm down. The Soldier gently released her, but she turned and hit him on the chest.

“ You scared me! ” she murmured loudly before shaking her head, grabbing the Soldier by the arm, and pulling him into the hallway. Only then did she notice that he was wearing only jogging pants. “Hm, the Baron wishes to see you.”

Without another word, she shoved his uniform into his arms.

“Get dressed.”

The Soldier watched her walk away in the opposite direction of the stairs. He glanced at his uniform in his arms, the mask resting on top. He quietly returned to the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to change. But the sound of rustling fabric made him stop before entering the small room, realizing the young master had awakened.

“Is everything alright..?”

The young master’s sleepy voice caused a strange sensation in his stomach, as if he had swallowed butterflies.

“Rest, it’s still early.” He pushed the door.

“Солдат..?” He barely turned, looking over his shoulder. “Was it real..? What happened last night, I mean…”

He turned fully towards him, observing him silently, regretting not having put on his mask already to hide. But he hoped the darkness would work in his favor, so the young master couldn’t read him like an open book.

“Don’t think about it.”

He finally entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath, feeling tension and fear mix unpleasantly in his stomach. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

He hurriedly undressed and put on his uniform, and when he fastened the last strap of his harness, he sighed in relief. He felt like himself again, the Winter Soldier, not a being who thought he was human.

He looked at the mask for a moment, running his metal fingers over the plates, then attached it to the lower part of his face. He raised his eyes to the mirror, and the vision was very different from the previous night. Now, he recognized himself. This was him. This was the Asset, the Soldier.

Suddenly, he remembered that the Baron wanted to see him, and he couldn’t make him wait any longer. When he emerged from the bathroom, the curtains in the room were open, and a soft light from a winter morning illuminated the space.

The young master was looking out the window at the falling snow, which had certainly covered the ground for several hours. When he turned to look at the Soldier, he was surprised to see him in full gear. He must not forget that the Soldier was there to protect him and was also an assassin.

But still not a bogeyman.

He gave a gentle smile as he approached him and looked up into the Soldier’s clear blue eyes.

“You must be back on duty, I assume…” Helmut raised a hand and lightly traced the straps of his harness with his fingertips, finding them too tight but not uncomfortable to look at. “I hope we will be able to see each other again for a longer time….”

“It's my mission.”

“Of course,” the younger man smiled before adopting a contemplative expression. “Thank you again for last night, Солдат…”

He refrained from telling him that if he responded again with It's my mission , he would get a slap, but he just smiled at the thought. The Soldier nodded to acknowledge his thanks, and the young man stepped back to let him leave.

The Soldier then left the room to meet with the Baron, yet unable to shake the young master from his thoughts.

Silently coming down the stairs, each step barely resonating on the old wood, his mind was still clouded by the dream and recent events. He pushed these distractions aside, understanding the importance of remaining focused and vigilant in the presence of Baron Heinrich Zemo. Arriving at the door to the office, he knocked twice before hearing the authoritative voice of Baron Zemo inviting him in.

The Baron was seated behind his desk, an open file before him. The room, though elegantly furnished, carried an air of tension. The Soldier closed the door behind him and stood at attention, eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Soldier," the Baron began, looking up from the file, "I received instructions from Strucker this morning." He paused, carefully studying the impassive face of the Soldier. "He's reviewed our report on last night's events and has decided to recall you to the Fortress."

The Soldier showed no visible reaction, but a wave of cold washed over him. Recalled. This did not bode well.

"The situation in the Capital is growing more tense," continued the Baron, folding his hands before him. "The civil war threatens to escalate, even during this holiday season. The Harvests will likely resume, and you're likely to be mobilized."

The Soldier nodded slightly, indicating he understood. The Harvests. Brutal missions aimed at capturing strategic targets for the superhuman experiments Strucker and Hale intended to conduct. This was part of his missions, the reason he was in Sokovia.

"I'll ensure you're prepared for your departure," concluded the Baron, rising from his seat. "But I have a question for you before that..." He circled his desk to stand in front of him. "What exactly were you doing in my son's room last night?"

"I was ensuring his safety, Sir."

"Is that the truth?" He tilted his head slightly, recalling the tic that his son also possessed. "My son had a bit too much to drink last night, and I don’t trust him in that state to give me the truth." He locked eyes with him. "So?"

"I'm telling you the truth, Sir," replied the Soldier, impassive but feeling panic subtly creeping in.

"Because if I find out..." He took a deep breath. "That the Winter Soldier dared to lay his filthy communist paws on my son when he wasn't in his right mind..."

"I'm here for your protection, Sir, and that of your son. I wouldn't cross any boundaries unless ordered to do so."

"And were you ordered to?" asked the Baron, raising an eyebrow, fearing his son might not have been entirely himself if that were the case.

"No, Sir."

The Baron nodded, reassured. He knew the Soldier couldn't lie, but since it was his son who had answered him first the previous night when he asked the question, he had doubts.

He placed a nearly friendly hand on the Soldier's shoulder, smiling with satisfaction.

"Good, good." He nodded. "We still need you here with us, so make sure you return from this mission in good shape." He looked at him. "Bullets fly like petals in spring in Novi Grad. Don't get yourself killed."

The Soldier nodded, feeling the weight of that sudden anxiety lift from his shoulders. Baron Zemo removed his hand and returned to his desk, leaving the Soldier standing, ready to receive his next instructions.

"Get ready to leave within the hour," ordered the Baron.

"At your command, Sir," he replied before turning on his heel and leaving the office.

In the corridor, the Soldier took a deep breath through his mask. The pressure was immense, but he knew he had to comply with what was expected of him. He had to set aside his emotions, his inappropriate thoughts, and focus solely on his mission.

He walked through the mansion in silence, passing by the large windows overlooking the snowy garden. The view was peaceful, almost serene, starkly contrasting with the turmoil he felt inside. When he reached the second room where he had spent the night, he paused before the door.

Why had he returned here? To inform the young master that he was leaving? Why did it suddenly matter to do so? He needed to go where he was ordered to go, without questioning, without being accountable to anyone.

He furrowed his brow to convince himself of this reasoning and turned away. The Baron would inform the young master himself if he questioned his absence.

He needed to detach himself, suppress these emotions threatening to overwhelm him. For the sake of his mission, for his survival. He adjusted his mask and descended a floor to retrieve his weapons left behind in the room assigned to him the previous night.

He prepared himself to rejoin the cold and unforgiving world to which he belonged.

After all, it wasn't for nothing that he was called the Winter Soldier.

Chapter Text

The black car with tinted windows parked silently in the medieval courtyard of the Fortress at the end of the morning. The Soldier exited the vehicle with rigorous discipline, his massive and rigid silhouette betraying little emotion or fatigue. He ascended the steps of the grand stone staircase and entered the dark office, where Strucker and Dr. Hale were already waiting.

"Soldat," Strucker began in an authoritative voice, "we need your report on last night's events."

The Soldier nodded soberly, aware that Strucker wanted to compare his version with the one provided by Baron Zemo. He recalled his conversations with the younger man, the moments spent in the room, and chose his words carefully to reveal nothing beyond what was essential to the mission.

"The details have been sent by the Baron, Sir," he finally replied. "But I am ready to provide any necessary additional information."

Strucker slightly inclined his head, satisfied with the Soldier's controlled response. If he did not dispute the Baron's report, it meant the Soldier had nothing to hide. Indeed, Strucker was rather impressed with the Soldier's efficiency during his first night at Zemo Manor.

"Good. We need to discuss the next actions in Novi Grad. The situation is worsening, and a raid is planned for tonight."

The Soldier listened attentively, his concentration entirely fixed on Strucker's instructions. He was used to operating in chaotic environments, but the implications of this mission were clear: to capture potential subjects for superhuman experiments.

"You will be part of the extraction team tonight," Strucker declared with implacable authority. "Make sure you are ready."

The Soldier nodded, indicating his complete understanding and availability. Meanwhile, Dr. Hale, with her austere silhouette and piercing gaze, joined them to lead them to the laboratories where the experiments were taking place.

The Soldier entered the sterile laboratories after descending further into the underground levels, closely following Strucker and Dr. Hale. The corridors were illuminated by a pale light, creating unsettling shadows that danced on the walls. Through the observation cells' windows, he saw various subjects: some appeared asleep or subdued, others agitated and demonstrating superhuman abilities that defied understanding.

Dr. Hale, always partially hidden behind her false broken-doll face, guided Strucker and the Soldier through the different sections of the laboratory. She explained in a calm but icy voice the experimental advancements, failures, and successes of the ongoing projects. The Soldier felt a wave of unease growing within him as he observed these individuals, used as pawns for HYDRA's grandiose ambitions.

Some subjects seemed lost in a state of torpor, their minds altered by experimental treatments. Others showed signs of physical mutation and the development of superhuman abilities, resulting from genetic manipulations and intensive conditioning sessions.

Strucker, impassive but calculating, asked precise questions about the progress and forecasts for these experiments. Dr. Hale responded with a mix of scientific pride and unscrupulous ambition. To her, these subjects were mere pawns in a much larger game aimed at ensuring HYDRA's supremacy.

The Soldier listened silently, but inwardly, he felt a deep concern growing. He knew his very existence relied on his combat effectiveness and loyalty to HYDRA. But seeing these individuals trapped in their monstrous destiny, he began to doubt the sustainability of his role.

The visits and explanations lasted the entire afternoon, and the Soldier stood next to them the whole time, lost in his worried thoughts.

Strucker interrupted his thoughts by ordering him to prepare for the raid planned in Novi Grad that evening, time ticking fast. It was a crucial mission to capture key elements before the situation further deteriorated in the war-torn capital.

The Soldier nodded, masking his concerns behind his cold and impassive facade. He did not have the luxury of personal reflection or existential doubts. His life was defined by obedience and the execution of orders. But deep down, a nagging question persisted: how much longer before even he became obsolete in HYDRA's ruthless eyes?

The Soldier quickly distanced himself from Dr. Hale and Strucker, his steps echoing through the sinister and oppressive corridors of the Fortress starting to darken. Every movement seemed laden with palpable gravity as he headed towards the armory, a sanctuary where he prepared for missions that often defied morality and humanity itself.

At the entrance of the armory, he was greeted by focused and silent technicians, ready to assist him in the meticulous adjustment of his lethal arsenal. The Soldier inspected each weapon with an almost obsessive precision, knowing that every bullet and every blade could mean life or death in the upcoming mission. The air was heavy with tension, not only due to the anticipation of the imminent battle but also because of the moral questions weighing on his conscience.

He shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. No. He had no moral questions weighing on his conscience. Never. Ever.

As he prepared, the extraction team, coming from all around the world, began to gather around him. He disliked feeling so surrounded, it gave him the impression that someone could ambush him at any moment. Among them were faces he knew well since he arrived at the Forteress, but whose motivations and methods he did not share. Some were fanatical soldiers, ready to do anything for HYDRA, while others seemed driven by more personal and less predictable interests. One man, in particular, barely in his twenties, with cold eyes and a predatory smile, caught the Soldier's attention. When he spoke in English to his comrades, he had a distinctive accent. He was American, without a doubt. He represented everything the Soldier despised: devouring ambition, ruthless, and a desire for power with no moral boundaries.

Anya, the only one among them who seemed to retain a certain humanity despite the bloody missions, met the Soldier’s gaze with an expression of mixed concern and determination. She was aware of the growing tensions within the team, exacerbated by the circumstances of this particular mission.

" Coлдat, будь бдителен сегодня вечером  Soldier, be vigilant tonight" she said whispering.

The Soldier nodded, his clear blue eyes reflecting a cold determination. He felt like a lone wolf among jackals, ready to face the imminent danger but aware that the real threat could come from within their own group.

Preparations continued with relentless efficiency, each team member adjusting their equipment with methodical precision. But beneath this facade of military order, the Soldier sensed the tensions rising. Muffled bursts of voices, furtive glances laden with suspicion and rivalry, all foretold an imminent conflict.

Once his equipment was ready, the Soldier straightened up with unshakable resolve. He knew that this mission was crucial for HYDRA's research, but it was also a test for himself, for his own conscience and his loyalty to HYDRA. The night promised to be dark and uncertain, but he was ready to face whatever Novi Grad had in store, both in the field and within his own group.

The Soldier continued checking and adjusting his equipment with unyielding concentration when he sensed a presence approaching from behind. He didn’t immediately turn around, letting his instincts guide him. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the young American soldier, a predatory smile on his lips.

"Hey, old wolf, do you really think you can impress us with your mask, your icy stare, and your metal arm?" the young man taunted, his honeyed voice barely masking his arrogance.

The Soldier, impassive, continued adjusting his harness without even looking at the man trying to provoke him. He knew that responding would only encourage him.

"What, you don’t talk? Looks like the great Winter Soldier hasn’t only lost his humanity but also his tongue," the young soldier continued, laughing to entertain the crowd, his tone becoming more provocative. "Maybe you’re really getting old, and all those electric shocks have left you as nothing but a vegetable, unable to fight and make HYDRA proud."

The Soldier ignored the jabs, methodically finishing his weapon assembly. Anya, observing the scene, stepped forward with a stern look.

"Rumlow, I strongly suggest you stop your nonsense." She glanced at the Soldier, who ignored them both. "I know him very well, and he’s far from being a vegetable unable to fight. He’s a one-man tank and worth fifty men." She turned to the American, speaking with a pronounced Russian accent. "So if you want to keep breathing through the conventional pipe, I suggest you shut the fuck up. We have a mission to accomplish, and this is not the time for ego measuring," she said firmly.

Rumlow stepped back, frustrated at being spoken to like that, but he finally shrugged, raising his hands in a mock surrender, though the mocking smile remained on his lips.

"Alright, alright. I just wanted to have a bit of fun. No harm done."

"As you wish. Of all of us, you’re the one likely to get hurt.” Anya fixed him with an intense stare. “This mission is crucial. If you want to prove your worth, do it on the field, not here."

The young American sighed, an air of annoyance on his face, but turned to his weapons with a falsely nonchalant air.

At that moment, the group’s driver entered the armory, his robust silhouette contrasting with the tense atmosphere.

"We're taking off in five minutes," he announced in an authoritative voice. Then, turning to the Soldier, he added, "Soldier, you won't be with us in the vehicle. A motorcycle has been prepared for you outside. You'll join the team on the outskirts of Novi Grad."

The Soldier nodded, making final adjustments to his gear before heading towards the exit. No words were needed to understand that his presence would be most effective as a lone agent, ready to strike where it would hurt most.

Anya watched him go, a glint of concern in her eyes.

" Солдат, будь осторожен Soldier, be careful" she murmured, warning him again though she knew he didn't need the reminder.

The Soldier nodded slightly before leaving the armory, his thoughts already focused on the mission ahead. He walked outside where the motorcycle awaited him, gleaming under the cold moonlight. As he mounted the bike, a surge of adrenaline mixed with determination coursed through him. He knew this mission could be a decisive turning point for HYDRA and for himself.

He revved the motorcycle, the engine's roar breaking the nighttime silence. Speeding away, he mentally prepared himself to face the horrors of Novi Grad, aware that the real battle would be fought as much in his mind as on the ground.

The motorcycle engine roared beneath him as the Soldier sped through the winding, icy roads leading to Novi Grad. The biting cold wind stung his skin despite the mask and layers of clothing, but he paid it no mind. His focus in missions was typically unwavering, every thought directed towards the objective, every fiber of his being tense with duty. Yet, on this night, despite his efforts to suppress his emotions, his thoughts drifted to the young Master Zemo.

He had promised to keep his distance, not let emotions interfere with his mission. But memories of the previous night persisted against his will. He remembered the younger man's eyes, bright with a humanity he found nowhere else in this cold, brutal world, remembered his warmth, his presence, his scent.

I hope we will be able to see each other again for a longer time…

Those words echoed in his mind, an echo he couldn't silence. He recalled the softness of the younger Master's smile, the warmth of his gaze. These moments of shared humanity had become an anchor, something that brought him to a version of himself he didn’t know existed. The mask he physically wore was also the one he emotionally wore, but in front of the young Zemo, that mask seemed to crack.

The strange euphoria he felt in the presence of the younger troubled him deeply. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, a mixture of joy, lightness, and an almost painful intensity. He remembered how his heart beat faster when the young Zemo was near, how warmth filled his body, chasing away the cold and rigidity of his soldier's existence. Every moment spent with him was like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise stifling life.

He clenched his teeth, trying to push these thoughts away. Allowing such distractions was dangerous. He knew it could compromise his mission, endanger his own and the young master’s safety. Yet, he couldn't deny the impact he had on him. The young man was the only one who saw him as more than just a tool, or a human weapon.

The Soldier accelerated, the motorcycle roaring louder in response. He needed to focus on the upcoming mission, on the objectives assigned by Strucker and HYDRA. However, a part of him couldn't help but wonder what the young Master was doing at that moment, if he was worried about him, if he thought of him as he thought of the young man.

The image of the younger one staring at him with those eyes filled with questions and trust haunted his mind. He had promised to protect him, to watch over him, even if it meant fighting against his own feelings. But at this moment, as he sped towards a mission where death lurked around every corner, he found himself hoping for a future where he could be more than just the Soldier, more than just a weapon. A future where he might, just maybe, become a man.

The more he thought of him, the more he realized that his mission of protection went beyond the orders given by HYDRA. This connection forming between them, fragile as it was, had become another reason for him to keep fighting, to continue existing beyond the simple role of the Winter Soldier.

He shook his head, firmly regaining control of his thoughts. He was the Winter Soldier, and he had a mission to complete. But despite himself, the thought of Helmut Zemo lingered in a corner of his mind, a constant reminder of what he could lose if he ever let his emotions take over. In the cold of the night, as he approached Novi Grad, he swore to find a balance, to protect the young master without compromising his own existence. After all, survival wasn't just physical; it was also mental and emotional. And for the first time, he wondered if he could have both freedom and humanity.

Chapter Text

As he approached the outskirts of the Capital, the Soldier could hear gunfire echoing in the air despite the roar of his motorcycle engine. It was now pitch dark, and the flashes of weapons, grenades, and homemade bombs lit up the sky like a thunderstorm over the city. 

When he stopped just at the entrance to Novi Grad, near a post office closed at this hour, the Soldier did not flinch when he heard a bomb explode in the heart of the city, followed by a crash as a building collapsed on itself. 

Whether they were civilians or soldiers, the Sokovians were ruthless, even within their own country. The Soldier knew nothing of this conflict and wasn’t really interested. The people were tearing themselves apart on their own land, leaving terror and pain after each gunshot and explosion. 

This was his first mission here, but it wasn’t the first time the Soldier had been sent to dance in a hail of bullets.

Usually, according to the reports from the Harvest team and those from Strucker, there was always a ceasefire from midnight. But tonight, that wasn’t the case. 

The difference between his previous missions and this one was that he had to bring people back alive. Normally, he was there to kill, to clean up. Even if, in the end, the result would be the same. These people would most likely die at the hands of Dr. Hale in the cold, grim laboratory of the Fortress.

He snapped back to reality when he heard an engine in the distance on the main road, and he recognized the approaching armored van of the Harvest team. When it stopped next to him, it was Rumlow who rolled down the front passenger window to address him, a big condescending smile on his lips.

 “I hope you took lessons at the Bolshoi, little ballerina, because tonight you’re gonna to dance like you never did before.”

The Soldier refrained from rolling his eyes, finding the young American’s words childish. Nevertheless, the reference reminded him of his homeland, and it caused a gentle warmth of nostalgia to bloom in his chest.

The Soldier ignored him once more, mounted his motorcycle again, and let the team lead the way. The armored van then crossed the bumpy streets of Novi Grad, dodging debris and the occasional corpse on the road. The Soldier watched silently as he rode behind the vehicle, his sharp senses picking up every detail of the devastated landscape. The sporadic gunfire and distant screams added a chaotic atmosphere to the war-torn city.

The van suddenly turned into a narrow street, slowing down in front of a partially collapsed building. Bright flashes burst forth suddenly, briefly illuminating the darkness as a new skirmish broke out nearby. The Soldier adjusted his gaze, ready to act at the slightest sign of danger, as he stopped his motorcycle right next to the vehicle that had also come to a halt.

The rear doors of the van opened with a creak, revealing the team ready to deploy, their faces masked, focused, each absorbed in their own mental preparation for the mission.

The Soldier dismounted his motorcycle, his boots striking the ground stained with muddy snow, shards of glass, and concrete debris. He ignored the distant screams and bursts of combat raging in the streets further south of the city, focusing solely on the orders to follow.

Some buildings were on fire, sending thick, toxic smoke billowing into the sky. There was no sound except for those distant skirmishes, the crackling of the fire, and a few pieces of concrete rolling on the ground, occasionally causing a collapse in the movement.

“Here we are,” murmured Rumlow, his voice laced with excitement and adrenaline. “The mission starts now.” He glanced at the Soldier, wiggling his eyebrows provocatively. “How do you say Let’s dance in your language, Soldier?”

“ Иди на хуй. Fuck you”

Anya snorted at the insult. Those were the first words the Soldier deigned to offer the young American, and it had to be “ fuck you .” Anya appreciated the Soldier’s humor, even if she was sure he hadn’t done it with that intention.

“Idi na krruy,” repeated Rumlow, thinking he was saying the right phrase, but butchering the last word.

“хуй,” the Soldier repeated, feeling a tinge of satisfaction as he watched the American make a fool of himself.

“Khhhui.” The Soldier nodded once. Rumlow smiled, satisfied, and turned to Anya, a big grin on his lips. “Idi na khuy!”

“ Иди на хуй сам, Fuck you too” she retorted, giving him a middle finger, returning the insult.

The Soldier felt his lips curl slightly under his mask, giving him a strange glimmer in his eyes that no one was used to seeing, and that no one saw now, all too focused on the mission.

"What?" Rumlow said, shrugging and opening his arms, looking perplexed. 

"Shut up, we need to get to work," the woman replied.

Anya called the team to order and gave them their instructions. She turned to the Soldier and told him she had no orders for him; he knew his role. He nodded, grabbed his rifle, and set off alone into the rubble and burning buildings, searching for potential subjects.

He launched himself into the darkness of a ruined building, his movements calculated and precise, avoiding debris and scattered corpses on the ground. Each step was as silent as the death that reigned in these places, bringing him closer each time to the souls condemned to a terrible fate under HYDRA's yoke.

His heart, if he had one, remained steadfast, focused only on completing his mission. Nonetheless, he shuddered internally at all the chaos. He was indifferent to life or death, or even if he was the cause, but there was always this tension, this adrenaline linked to his hunter's instinct, survival, and pleasing his handler in return. 

He imagined for a moment, navigating the rubble with caution and attention, the praise Karpov might give him after successfully completing his mission.

He suddenly twisted his ankle on a piece of concrete but regained his balance just in time. He took a deep breath, trying to refocus.

His treacherous thoughts had wandered to imagining that his handler was not Karpov but young Zemo, and this distraction had cost him a nasty pain in his ankle.

He stopped for a moment, scanning what looked like a hotel lobby, letting his ankle heal for a few minutes thanks to the serum coursing through his veins before resuming his walk, pain-free.

The Soldier continued his advance into the darkness, searching for civilians not for rescue, but to seal the fate of a few. For they would either be killed during this civil war or succumb to experiments, with all the tortures and changes to their bodies and minds, within HYDRA.

Just like hi—

The Soldier smoothly dodged a bullet that echoed through the building and ricocheted off the concrete wall in front of him. He turned sharply and saw a man on the ground, one of his legs trapped under a block of concrete, pointing a gun at him.

The Soldier lunged at him and, close to the ground, supported by his hands, swung his leg to knock the weapon out of the man's hand. The man let out a cry of terror and surprise, and the Soldier knelt near his head, staring down at him, eyes wide before striking his face with his fist, knocking him out with one blow.

There, one subject found.

He sighed loudly, blinking rapidly. This brief skirmish had chased away the intrusive thought that had slipped into his mind, which could have been just as painful as the bullet he had narrowly avoided.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds to clear his mind, focusing only on the essential: his mission.

He reopened his eyes, still crouched, and lifted the concrete slab trapping the man before letting it drop heavily further away. He grabbed the unconscious man's arm, turning to hoist him onto his back and shoulder before standing up.

He returned to the street where the van was, his empty gaze sweeping over the chaos around him, the limbs protruding from the rubble, the acrid smell of smoke seeping through his mask and catching in his throat.

The driver noticed him, got out of the vehicle, and walked around to open the back of the van. The Soldier let the man fall onto the van's floor and hurried to tie his hands behind his back, his legs, and put a gag and a cloth sack over his head.

"You seem to know what you're doing," said the driver before returning to the front of the vehicle.

The Soldier looked at the bound and unconscious man and took a deep breath.

" извини... Sorry..." he murmured into his mask, feeling a pang of guilt.

He closed the doors and then set off to find more subjects. This was no time for feelings.

He entered another building, likely a residence with many civilian apartments. As he climbed the stairs and inspected the floors, which seemed deserted due to the conflict, he recalled what Strucker and Dr. Hale had told him about the subjects. He could bring back men and women, but they had to be in decent physical condition. The elderly or those too damaged were to be avoided; children, however, were ideal. Despite their young age, they were promising, malleable, and would recover more quickly from certain complications.

He slowed his pace as he reached the second floor, hearing groans of pain. Silently, with caution, he moved towards one of the apartments, or what was left of it.

Its ceiling had collapsed, and part of the living room from the apartment above had crashed down into it.

The Soldier quickly turned his head to the left, his right hand on his weapon at his thigh, his gloved metal fist clenched, ready to attack at the sound of a muffled voice.

That's when he saw the young woman in her thirties, trapped under her refrigerator, bleeding but alive, leaning over what appeared to be a man's body.

" P-Prosím... P-Please..."

She looked at him, her face bloody and in tears. She was begging, but for what? He could do nothing for the man she was mourning, who had died in the collapse. But her, he could rescue her from this deadly trap, only to take her to another one, a prison, another hell.

So he approached her and lifted the refrigerator with his metal left arm as if it weighed nothing, then crouched down to her level.

She seemed to become aware of the situation, both from the ease with which he had moved the refrigerator and the sight of his metallic arm tattooed with a red star. Her eyes met the empty ones of the Soldier, and she realized that the mask was nothing more than a muzzle to contain a dangerous animal.

At that moment, she tried to scream, but the Soldier was faster and grabbed her throat with his flesh hand, squeezing hard enough on the carotid and jugular to deprive her brain of oxygen.

After a few seconds, the woman rolled her eyes and lost consciousness, becoming suddenly limp in the Soldier's arms.

He stood up and hoisted the woman over his shoulder like a sack before descending to return once more to the van.

The scenario repeated, the driver opened the doors for him, the Soldier tied her hands behind her back, gagged her, and put a sack over her head.

" извини... Sorry..." he murmured again into his mask, feeling once more that pang of guilt seizing him. He felt like he was betraying himself by acting this way.

"Great," said the driver, "three more and we can head back."

The Soldier knew this, but reflexively nodded once and set off again to hunt for a new prey.

The next one took longer to find. The four individuals he had encountered were in too poor a condition to be used, so he continued his search until he came across, in a side street near City Hall, a young boy about twelve years old.

He was sitting, huddled against the bullet-riddled body of a woman, likely his mother, crying and clinging to her. The Soldier did not hesitate for a second to approach him, but the child barely acknowledged him. The boy had retreated into a deafening silence, likely due to the trauma he had just experienced. The Soldier attempted a more humane approach, less violent than with his previous two prey, wanting to avoid brutalizing a young child.

The boy followed him without resistance, as if trapped in a stupor from which he could not escape. Upon reaching the van, the retrieval team was there. They had brought back another man and woman, and all were surprised to see the Soldier with a conscious child, following him without resistance, holding his hand.

Anya made no comment, and took the child to place him in the van, before injecting him with a sedative that put the boy into a semi-conscious state.

The Soldier was indeed ruthless, but when it came to children, something caught in the depths of him. He knew it was related to a previous mission when he had to kill the little паучки spidersof the Red Room a few years earlier.

He had been tasked with training the young black widows in combat, and they all adored him. He had ended up becoming attached to those children as well, and when the situation had deteriorated between HYDRA and the Red Room, he had almost disobeyed orders. The punishment had been terrible, and his conditioning had taken over his conscience. He had slaughtered them all. All except one, who had escaped.

Whom he had let escape.

" Елена... Yelena..."

"Who is Yelena?"

The Soldier blinked and realized he was no longer in Novi Grad but in Strucker's office at the Fortress.

He had once again zoned out during the return journey, despite the concentration needed to navigate on a motorcycle through the rural and mountainous roads of Sokovia. It often happened to him, to get lost in his head, to do everything by automation, or to lose track of time.

It was normal according to his team of doctors and researchers; the resets were the cause, and his initially human shell could get damaged. But these blank states weren't a problem, they never prevented him from completing his missions.

"Who is Yelena, Soldier?" Strucker asked again, his piercing gaze behind his strange monocle. "Speak."

"A former widow," the Soldier replied without lying. "I trained her in the past."

"Why thinking of her?"

"The young boy," he said as if it were obvious. "He was the same age as she was when she... left."

"When you killed the little widows in the Red Room, you mean?" Strucker asked but didn't wait for the Soldier's answer. "I heard about that, yes. What a waste." He shook his head. "Remember, we do this for peace and order."

"For peace and order."

"You may go, I have no further need of you tonight," Strucker said, returning to his papers. "You can return to the Baron."

The Soldier nodded before heading towards the exit, but Strucker called him back once more, as if remembering something.

"Ah, Soldier." The latter turned, questioning with his gaze. "You did well. I'm proud of what you accomplished tonight."

The Soldier took a very slow, deep breath, letting the sensation of pleasure wash over him at the praise, but still restrained himself from showing anything.

"Thank you, Sir."

Strucker smiled, fully aware of the effect this had on the Soldier, and nodded before lowering his head back to his file, letting the Soldier leave.

Seeing the Soldier's pupils dilate like that had not left the commander indifferent.

Chapter Text

The Soldier had left Strucker's office with his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. His feet automatically guided him through the corridors of the Fortress until he found himself outside, under the moonlight. He mounted his motorcycle and headed towards the Zemo Manor, his thoughts swirling around the idea of seeing the young master again.

The road to the manor was winding, bordered by dark forests and steep hills. The noise of the motorcycle was almost soothing, a contrast to the chaos he had left behind in Novi Grad. With each turn, he felt the excitement rise within him, mixed with a quiet fear he couldn't suppress.

Upon arriving in front of the manor, he turned off the motorcycle and remained still for a moment, listening to the silence of the night. The shadow of the manor stood out clearly under the pale moonlight. He wondered for a moment if he had the right to be there. He had an overwhelming desire to see the young master, but the Baron's warnings about having too intimate a relationship with his son held him back. What if he was punished for being close to the young master?

He shook his head. He was forbidden from having a closer relationship with the younger one, not from being near him. His mission was to be the bodyguard of the Baron and his son. The Soldier wouldn't be punished for staying close to the younger one. But uncertainty twisted his guts, and instead of going through the main door, he circled the manor, looking for the best way to infiltrate without being spotted.

He avoided the night guards, spotted the window to the young master's room, and climbed the trellis along the facade with precise and silent movements. Reaching the window, he glanced inside. The young master's room was dimly lit by the moonlight, creating a peaceful and almost unreal atmosphere. The Soldier gently opened the window by sliding the blade of his knife into the gap to lift the latch and slipped inside the room. He moved cautiously towards the bed, his steps muffled by the plush carpet on the floor. The young master slept peacefully, his breathing regular and his face relaxed. The Soldier stopped a few steps from the bed, his gaze fixed on the sleeping face of the younger one.

His heart beat at a pace he had never known before. The vision of the sleeping young master irresistibly attracted him. He felt the urge, the need to slip into that bed, against the body he knew to be warm, soft, and reassuring. Unable to look away, he slowly approached the bed, his eyes capturing every detail of young Zemo's face. The delicate eyelashes, the relaxed features, the softness of his expression—each aspect of the young man seemed to amplify the euphoria of seeing him again and the terror of these new and forbidden emotions that overwhelmed him.

He froze near the bed, his eyes scrutinizing every line and curve of the sleeping face. The young master's natural beauty overwhelmed him, awakening desires he had never known, that he had no right to feel. He felt a devouring need to feel the young master's warmth against him, to bury his face in his silky hair to smell its scent, and to discover the texture of the slightly parted lips, from which a faint warm breath escaped. These thoughts seized him, shaking him to his core. Was it the end of him? Was it the young Zemo's fault that he was malfunctioning this way? He no longer knew. All he knew was that he couldn't leave. He couldn't report his malfunctions. He didn't want to risk forgetting or being punished.

Everything he felt at that moment and each time in the presence of the younger one seemed so wrong but resonated with such authenticity, such truth. The Soldier sat down frustrated, on the carpet, his eyes still fixed on the younger one. He was terrified by the intensity of his emotions but unable to suppress them. He remained there, observing the young master, his thoughts whirling in a mixture of desire and fear.

Helmut moved slightly in his sleep, as if sensing the Soldier's presence. The young master slowly opened his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the darkness of the room. His eyes landed on the dark silhouette of the Soldier, sitting a few steps from his bed.

"Who is there?" he murmured, his voice still sleepy.

The Soldier remained silent, his gaze fixed on the young Zemo, unable to utter a word for fear of saying something that would lead to punishment or worse, rejection from the young master. The younger one sat up slightly, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness to identify the intruder.

"Солдат ? Is that you?" he asked again, finally recognizing the familiar silhouette.

The Soldier nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and fear rise within him. Young Zemo sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes to chase away the last remnants of sleep. The silhouette of the Soldier, motionless and dark in the gloom, had made him nervous for a brief moment due to the previous night.

He sat on the edge of the bed, worry etched on his face. 

"But where have you been?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of reproach and concern.

The Soldier, still hesitant, raised his eyes to meet those of his master, his blue eyes shining under the moonbeam crossing his face.

"I was on a mission in Novi Grad," he replied simply, his voice calm despite the intensity of the day he had just experienced.

"Novi Grad?" Helmut blanched slightly at this revelation, standing up. "A raid broke out in the evening! Why were you there? What happened?"

The Soldier lowered his eyes, gathering his thoughts before answering.

"Commander Strucker sent me there to retrieve subjects." He knew the Zemo family was involved in the Superhumans project, so he could talk about it. "You have nothing to worry about, I wasn't at the heart of the conflict."

But the Soldier remembered the man who had nearly shot him in the head, and thinking about it reminded him that, a few centimeters off, he might never have seen the young master again. This realization gripped his insides.

The younger one's face shifted from worry to visible panic, giving him an almost crazed look as his hazel eyes widened.

"You could have been killed!" he murmured loudly. "What would have happened if you hadn't come back?" He felt his throat tighten suddenly. "I can't..." He swallowed hard to push down the lump in his throat, but his lungs spasmed, making it hard to breathe. " I don't want... to lose someone else..."

The Soldier remained silent, absorbing the younger one's words. He had never seen his master so emotional. Whom was he talking about? Was he referring to the Baroness? His mother? Why did he matter so much to him? He knew the younger believed he was human at heart, but nothing justified such a reaction, whether he was human or not.

Slowly, the Soldier stood up and took a step towards the young master, trying to reassure him by entering his personal space.

"I am here, Master..." he said, raising his right hand hesitantly to touch his forearm before lowering it, remembering the Baron's words. "I am fine..." he said softly, his words filled with rare sincerity.

Helmut stared at him, his eyes shining with emotion, his throat tight, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, tears on the verge of falling.

"You don't understand, Солдат…." he murmured, fixing his bright eyes on the man before him. "I'm not worried that... the Winter Soldier might get killed, or that you might not be able to fulfill your protector mission..." He shook his head. "I don't care about the importance you have for HYDRA, or the missions you have to carry out..." He looked up at him. "Your life..." he took a deep breath "and your safety matter to me." He paused, realizing the truth that had just hit him, a surge of adrenaline inflaming his whole body up to his cheeks. " You matter to me... "

The Soldier blinked, troubled by the intensity of this confession that did not leave him indifferent, amplifying these tumultuous and new emotions within him. He observed the young man before him, motionless, as if suddenly lost in his thoughts, troubled by his own words.

"I... I am sorry, Master..." the Soldier said in a low, muffled voice behind his mask. "I did not mean to worry you..." He frowned. "I thought your father would have informed you..."

Helmut raised his head towards him and took a step forward, grabbing the Soldier's arms with gentle determination, anchoring his hazel eyes into the Soldier's ice-blue ones.

"Promise me..." he began, "Promise me you'll come back to me..." He was surprised by the intensity of the desperation in his own voice. "Promise me you won't put yourself in danger..."

"I promise you, Master." The Soldier nodded slowly, meeting the young master's gaze with a burning determination to honor this promise.

The younger man took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, suddenly freeing himself from the anxiety that had enveloped him like a suffocating veil.

"Thank you," he murmured, slightly loosening his grip but not stepping away.

A storm raged in the Soldier's mind at that moment. For the first time since meeting the young master weeks ago, he fully realized the depth of the latter's feelings for him. This was not just a protector-and-protected relationship; it was something deeper, more intimate. He knew it, he felt it. A connection he didn't fully understand but felt as real as the metal of his arm. Whatever this relationship was, it was real, authentic, tangible. And the Soldier wanted to lose himself in it, to let go. He knew it was forbidden, that he was betraying HYDRA just by feeling, by thinking, but for once, he didn't care.

He didn't care.
And oh, how good that felt!

Helmut looked at him with a new gaze, now realizing that the Soldier was not just a fascination that piqued his curiosity, but a love that pushed him to know more, to want to help this soul imprisoned in his own body, his own mind because of HYDRA, which had reduced him to nothing.

He had heard of the Winter Soldier long before meeting him, hence his surprise when he saw him for the first time. He had expected an abomination, a monster, but certainly not a man in pain hidden behind a mask of impassivity that HYDRA had forcibly glued to his face to suffocate him with.

Before the Soldier arrived at the manor before the gala, Helmut had infiltrated his father's office to find as much information as possible about the Soldier. He had seen and read terrible things. Not actions carried out by the Soldier, but those of HYDRA on him. It was from that moment that Helmut had decided to scratch away at this armor, this shell that prevented the Soldier from moving freely. Helmut had an innate talent for reading people, slipping into their heads and under their skin, and although the method was sometimes unorthodox, he was determined to continue trying to revive the man hiding behind the title of Winter Soldier.

But of course, Helmut hadn't expected to be caught in his own game. By slipping under the Soldier's skin, he had allowed the latter to slip under his.

And it wasn't unpleasant at all. He had the desire, the need for the Soldier to venture further into his emotions, this discovery of himself, and maybe then the Soldier could manage to see Helmut not as a mission, but as an equal, as a potential friend, even if the young Zemo silently hoped it would be much more than that.

He let out a shaky sigh, his mind racing. How had this relationship, these emotions and feelings developed so quickly? They had only been actively in contact for two days, it was ridiculous!

The younger man slowly raised his hand towards the Soldier's face, brushing the mask with his palm, subtly sliding his fingers into his hair .

The Soldier closed his eyes and leaned his face into his palm, letting out a sigh of satisfaction behind his mask, surrendering to the pleasure and tenderness of this gesture.

Helmut's heart skipped a beat at this sight, and he raised his other hand to reach the strap behind the Soldier's head, hidden in his hair, to unbuckle the mask.

The Soldier slowly reopened his eyes, observing him silently, allowing him to remove his mask. The young master was focused, and his gaze fell on his lips, once again desiring to know their texture…

Helmut pulled back his hand holding the Soldier's mask, realizing that he would never tire of seeing him without it. He was so handsome, and despite his impassive face, a softness emanated from his features. For a moment, Helmut wondered if HYDRA had decided to make the Soldier wear the mask not to muzzle him but to hide this face that was far from harsh and terrifying.

Without averting his gaze, Helmut placed the mask on the small table nearby with his right hand and brought the fingers of his left hand close to the Soldier's cheek, lightly brushing his skin, feeling the almost totally shaved beard deliciously scraping under the pads of his fingers.

Helmut knew this was the moment he had to stop, the moment he had to pull back his hand, his entire body even, and the moment he had to avert his eyes, lest he succumb to the dark desires invading his mind.

“ Master… ”

Helmut slowly closed his eyes, feeling a wave of warmth sweep through his stomach. This was dangerous. He couldn't give in so easily, not with the Soldier in this state of mind. The Soldier might take it as an order, a service to provide, whereas Helmut wanted him to become aware of who he was, of his emotions, of his desires.

Helmut withdrew his hand, forcing himself to do so, and took a step back before reopening his eyes, anchoring his gaze into the Soldier's.

He was struck on the spot by what he saw. The Soldier's pupils were so wide that the blue of his eyes had almost disappeared.

“ How old are you..?”

The question surprised him. It had been merely a whisper, and his lips had barely moved, or maybe he hadn't noticed because he was so focused on his eyes.

But the matter amused him, and he tilted his head with a slight smile.

“ How old do you think I am, Солда т..?” he responded in the same tone, unable to keep a suave intonation from creeping into his words.

“Eighteen..?” He furrowed his brows, thinking. “Maybe less..?”

Helmut had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter, so he settled for exhaling a sigh through his nose to express his amusement.

“Do I look that much like a child..?” He couldn't help but slowly move closer to him, drawn like a magnet, his eyes locked onto his, a smile spreading across his lips. “I am no child…” there was a message in this statement, like giving possible permission. “I'll be twenty-one next June…”

The Soldier locked eyes with the young master again, seeing him get closer, realizing that the young man in front of him wasn't as young as he had thought, that he might not be so innocent. He didn't understand why the Baron had been so direct and categorical regarding his son. He was no longer a child, evidently. The young master could make his own decisions, whether they were good or not.

Or maybe, despite his allegiance to HYDRA, Baron Zemo despised the Winter Soldier. After all, he was a being devoid of emotions and free will, seen only as an instrument, a puppet controlled by the strings of communism that, judging by their last exchange, the Baron seemed to loathe.

“And you, Солдат…” the younger man said, running his tongue across his lips. “How old are you..?”

“I have…” he briefly fixed the young master's tongue before it disappeared behind his lips. “I have the body of a man in his thirties, I think. But… I know I’m older.” He furrowed his brows, realizing he didn't want to talk about himself but the man who inhabited his body before him. “I believe he was born a long time ago…”

Helmut blinked, his curiosity piqued by the Soldier's answer.

“You really don’t remember your life before, do you?” he asked softly, seeking to better understand the complex man before him.

The Soldier slowly shook his head, his brows still furrowed.

“No…” He inhaled softly but deeply. “My memory is wiped during the resets… Sometimes fragments return, but it’s blurry. Like… dreams I can never fully grasp.” He looked back up at the young master. “I remember sensations, sometimes faces, but not names or places. It’s as if… everything is shrouded in a thick fog.”

Helmut felt his heart clench at those words. He realized the magnitude of the loss the Soldier had suffered, and his desire to help him regain his humanity grew stronger.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” he murmured, his voice filled with compassion. “But know that you’re not alone. I’m here for you, and I’ll do everything I can to help you recover your memories, your true identity…”

The Soldier looked at him, feeling hope pierce the dark veil of his existence for the first time. Helmut Zemo was the saving light in the hell he was trapped in.

“Thank you… Master…”

Helmut smiled softly at him, aware of the significance of this moment. He moved closer, his hands naturally finding their place on the Soldier’s shoulders. He couldn’t help but touch him, finally.

“We will get through this together,” he promised, his eyes shining with determination. “But for that, we’ll have to… go against HYDRA… Are you aware of that..?” The Soldier nodded. “Are you ready to keep this plan a secret..? Just between you and me..?”

The Soldier nodded again, understanding the stakes and the dangers, but as long as he was with the young master, nothing would happen to them. He made this promise to himself. He had to watch over the young master, but also over himself .

Chapter Text

Helmut observed the Soldier for a moment, then suddenly made a bold decision. He gently raised his hand to the Soldier’s face, his fingers brushing his cheek with a tenderness that made the man in front of him shiver, his breath quickening at the touch.

The Soldier couldn't lie to himself. He loved it when the master touched him, spoke to him, looked at him with that gaze, where he felt important, the center of his attention, where he became the prey and no longer the hunter.

“There’s something I want to do…” the younger one whispered, his eyes locking onto the Soldier’s, his face mere inches away, feeling his breath escape his lips. “To show you that you’re more than a weapon, more than just an instrument…”

The Soldier’s gaze flicked from the younger man’s eyes to his mouth, feeling a hundred butterflies erupt in his stomach, and before the Soldier could say anything, the young master closed the distance and pressed his lips against his in a gentle, delicate kiss.

The Soldier froze for a moment, surprised by this unexpected show of affection. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and responded to the kiss, letting his emotions overwhelm him, feeling an intense rush of adrenaline coursing through him. He had never felt anything like this. It was as if he were dying and being revived at the same time.

Helmut felt his heart pounding painfully in his chest, feeling the Soldier’s warm and soft lips against his, sending an electric shock through his entire body. He felt the Soldier’s hands settle on his hips, and a sigh escaped his lips, mingling with the Soldier’s breath, who pulled him closer as if his life depended on it.

Helmut wrapped his arms around the Soldier’s neck, deepening the kiss, sighing against his lips, and mingling their breaths. He didn’t know if he could be content with just a simple kiss.

A simple kiss?

It was stronger than anything !

It was an affirmation of his feelings for the man pressed against him, who was kissing him as if he were breathing life into him. This kiss was a way to show the Soldier that he was loved and desired for who he was, not for what he had been made into. He felt the Soldier’s heart beating against his chest, in unison with his own, a tangible proof of his life, of his humanity. Helmut had never doubted it.

The Soldier had never felt so alive as in that moment. It was as if this kiss had the power to dispel the shadows that clouded his mind. No, as if Helmut Zemo had the power to chase away the darkness that possessed him. For the first time, he felt alive, connected to someone in a deep and meaningful way. His life had just taken on a new meaning. He wanted Helmut Zemo. That, he was sure of.

They suddenly pulled apart, out of breath, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.

Helmut rested his forehead against the Soldier’s, his hands sliding gently over his shoulders. He hadn’t expected it to be so intense.

" You see ," he whispered, knowing his voice would break under the intensity of the kiss, " you are… " he said, trying to catch his breath, "so much more than what they make you believe…" He brushed his lips against his. "You have a heart, emotions, desires…" He felt his own desire burning within him. "And I want you to explore them, to discover them again…" he let the words form on his lips. " ...with me… "

The Soldier inhaled through his nose, capturing the young master’s lips between his, feeling the electrifying contact, the words, the sensations overwhelming him to the point where he wished only to drown in them.

He wanted to explore and discover everything with the young master. He had come too far to turn back. And anyway, he didn’t want to. He wanted to move forward, with Helmut Zemo by his side, in all circumstances.

Helmut smiled against his lips before pulling back to breathe again. Without a doubt, the Soldier was someone who loved with passion and intensity.

Love had been denied to him for so long that he had probably forgotten its meaning and effects. This reaction was not one of despair, but a reminiscence of the man, the lover who had been locked away in the Soldier's mind. And Helmut was determined to see more, to bring back this man who loved with a consuming passion, so that he could devour him with full awareness.

He gazed into his eyes, and they stayed like that, close, their hearts beating in unison for a few moments longer.

The young master pulled back slightly, without breaking the embrace completely, to turn halfway toward the bed, still watching the Soldier with that warm look that made the Soldier's heart race.

“Come…” he said softly, sliding his hand along the Soldier’s metal arm, feeling every roughness, every plate under his fingertips, to gently pull him toward the bed. “It’s late… We have tomorrow, and the days after, to explore this path together…”

The Soldier nodded, his heart pounding in his temples, and followed the younger man to the bed without hesitation, allowing himself to be guided, both physically and emotionally. He climbed onto the mattress after the young master, who settled in at the far end, by the side of the bathroom, and after he lay down on his back, he slowly and kindly invited the Soldier to lie down against him, on his right side.

The contact with his body was so pleasant that a sigh escaped his lips, and he suddenly feared being reprimanded for being so expressive. In situations like this, such proximity was never as gentle as it was now, and he was not expected to enjoy what was happening. He was not used to being treated well in intimate moments like this, and he felt tears of joy and hope blur his vision.

Helmut pulled the sheets over their bodies to ward off the cold of the room, but also to hide them, or rather to hide himself. The kiss had such an effect on him that he felt powerless, a slave to his own emotions, with no control over the tumultuous thoughts invading his mind, or his body reacting to the adrenaline and the warmth of the soldier against his side.

Their hearts were pounding in their chests, and it was difficult to maintain steady breaths, but the warmth and presence of each other was a promise for the future of this story. 

Of their story.

Helmut slid his hand over the Soldier’s flesh one resting flat on the younger man's stomach, on the sheets, and intertwined his fingers with his.

“Good night, Солдат…” he murmured softly, his lips in the Soldier’s long brown hair.

“Good night, Master…”

The next morning, Helmut woke up before dawn, the first rays of the sun filtering through the curtains. He watched the Soldier sleeping beside him, his face peaceful and relaxed. It was a rarity for the tormented man, and Helmut couldn’t help but feel a deep tenderness as he looked at him. He gently brushed his cheek before getting up, making sure not to wake him.

Helmut went to the desk not far away, turning on a discreet lamp so as not to disturb the Soldier's sleep. He took out a worn leather notebook and began to write. Notes, plans, strategies to escape HYDRA and find fragments of the Soldier’s past life. He knew the road would be long and perilous, but he was determined to restore the identity and freedom of the man he loved.

The man he loved…

He paused in his writing, the pen hovering above the notebook, letting the realization sink in.

It was both a terrifying and exhilarating reality.

An hour later, the Soldier woke up gently, his eyes immediately searching for the younger man. He found him sitting at the desk, absorbed in his writing. An involuntary smile slowly stretched the corner of his lips as he saw the young master’s concentration. He got up silently and walked towards him.

“Good morning,” he murmured, placing a hand on the young master’s shoulder, who started slightly before smiling at him.

“Ah, Солдат…,” he smiled, amused that the Soldier was so stealth. “Good morning,” he replied, turning to face him. “Did you sleep well?”

The Soldier nodded, his eyes shining with a new warmth. He had never slept as well as he did that night.

Helmut returned the smile, guessing that the kiss from the night before had probably managed to alleviate the Soldier's torments for the night, but his expression became more serious in light of the new mission the younger man had taken upon himself.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us.” He showed the notebook to the Soldier. “To free you from HYDRA's control, we need to be careful and methodical, and gather as much information about you as possible.”

“I don’t know if I will ever be completely free from their control, Master…”

Helmut stood up from his chair to face the Soldier. He was smaller than him, by a head maybe, but that didn’t mean he would back down.

He anchored his determined gaze into the Soldier's.

“You will be free one day, Солдат… I promise you. Whether by my hand or not, but you will be. If I am just a spark in the process, then so be it, I will do my utmost.”

“I am very grateful to you…” the Soldier admitted, feeling his voice falter. “But… HYDRA and its agents are dangerous ,” he said, emphasizing the last word, his cold gaze meeting the younger man's to convey the gravity of such an undertaking. “With all due respect, but…” He hesitated, because he was clearly going to be disrespectful. “You have no experience in combat, or even defense.”

The young master let out a small laugh before gently wrapping his arms around the Soldier's neck, knowing that this new relationship between them was still fragile, perhaps even brittle if he took too much liberty with the Soldier, but the latter let him do so, even leaning into the contact.

“Who told you I was inexperienced?” the younger man said, tilting his head, smiling slyly. “I’ve been fencing since I was thirteen and became the Sokovian champion at seventeen, and no one has dethroned me yet.” The Soldier looked at him surprised, feeling a strange sensation manifest in his stomach, similar to the butterflies he had already felt. “I also practice Krav Maga, and I know how to use a firearm.”

The Soldier stared at him. Stared intensely. How could a young man with such a gentle face and an enchanting smile be so formidable? The Soldier felt his heart race as he imagined the young master wielding a sword, perhaps the one the Baron wore at his belt during their first meeting at the Fortress, or neutralizing an opponent in close combat, quickly and efficiently, or even ending an assailant’s life with a well-placed bullet, the weapon shining and warm between his long, slender fingers. 

The young master could be a deadly weapon too. And this thought awakened a fascination, a sudden interest that was much more than intellectual. 

His body never betrayed him, and yet at this moment…

“I can see the little gears in your brain clicking with your thoughts, Солдат…”

“I…” he blinked to gather himself. “I can’t take the risk of exposing you to such danger.”

Helmut smiled tenderly, bringing his face closer to his before rising slightly on his tiptoes to slide his lips near the Soldier’s ear. 

Instinctively, the Soldier placed his hands on the younger man’s hips to steady him. Or perhaps to steady himself, to avoid faltering under the proximity that suddenly made him boil from within.

“I could show you…?” The Soldier felt his heart drop into his stomach. Oh yes, he would love to see him in action. “ Мы могли бы танцевать, ты и я… We could dance, you and I...”

His brain stopped functioning, and his head fell onto the young master's shoulder, breathless. 

The younger man caught him gracefully, one arm around his shoulders and the other now at the small of his back, before the Soldier could collapse under his own weight, holding him firmly, a smile playing on his lips. 

He had suspected that speaking Russian would have an effect, but not to this extent. He didn’t dare to imagine the Soldier's reaction if he had said anything other than “ we could dance, you and I. ”

“Hey… ” he gently stroked his back. “Are you alright? I didn’t break you, did I?”

“ Я… I... ” The Soldier inhaled softly, regaining his composure and standing upright, locking his gaze with the younger man’s, completely spellbound. “I didn’t know… that you spoke my language…”

“I had to learn it, just like German, French, Spanish…”

“ Vous parlez français ? You speak French ?” the Soldier asked, intrigued, a spark of curiosity in his blue eyes, in the language of Molière.

“ Ma mère me disait que c’était la langue de l’amour… My mother used to tell me it was the language of love...” he smiled, replying in French. “ Et il y a,  en effet, quelque chose de plutôt érotique et poétique dans cette langue, je dois l'avouer… And indeed, there is something rather erotic and poetic about this language, I have to say...”

The Soldier stared at him without saying anything before smiling softly. He loved hearing the young master speak Sokovian, Russian, French… It made him even more captivating. He wanted to kiss him. Again. All these skills did not leave the Soldier indifferent, whether they were linguistic or combat-related. 

“ Lasst uns dann tanzen. So let's dance, then.” The Soldier responded in German to test him. And the younger man smiled, a mischievous look lighting up his face.

“ Si, no puedo esperar más. Yes, I can't wait any longer.”

Chapter Text

Despite his enthusiasm to show all his techniques and knowledge, the young Zemo had other obligations in the morning and had to leave the Soldier to occupy himself around the property, exploring it more thoroughly in the daylight. So it was only in the mid-afternoon that the young master could finally rejoin his Soldier near the frozen pond, inviting him to follow him to an annex of the manor. 

They headed together to a small training room on the ground floor, primarily used for the private exercises of the Zemo family. The room was modestly decorated, with tatami mats on the floor and a wall covered with various weapons, ranging from swords to throwing knives. Helmut chose a fine, elegant sword, sliding it smoothly in his hand before turning to the Soldier, holding it in his left hand. The Soldier blinked.

Hm.
A left-handed fencer.
No wonder he’s been the undefeated champion for five years.

"Shall we start with fencing? Does that work for you?"

The Soldier nodded, watching every movement of the young master intently. Helmut assumed a guard position, his body relaxed but ready to react to the slightest attack.

"I'll show you a few basic moves," Helmut said with a smile, knowing the Soldier wasn’t really familiar with sword fighting. "And then we’ll see if you can follow me."

He began by executing a series of simple parries and attacks, explaining each movement patiently. The Soldier observed, absorbing every detail, every nuance of posture and technique, also contemplating the young master in all his splendor with each movement.

"Now, give it a try," the younger man said, handing a similar sword to the Soldier.

The Soldier took the sword in his right hand, feeling its weight and balance before assuming a guard position. He mimicked the young master's movements, first with hesitation, then with increasing precision. Helmut smiled, impressed by how quickly the Soldier learned. There was no doubt he excelled in many areas if he could learn this fast.

"Perfect," he said after a few exchanges, nodding with a satisfied look, leaving a tingling sensation in the Soldier's chest. "Now, let’s see how you handle a real situation."

And without warning, the younger man attacked. The Soldier deflected the thrust with a swift motion, and they began to spar, their swords clashing with sharp clicks, generating metallic sounds as the blades scraped against each other and whistling as the tips cut through the air. Helmut moved with fluid grace, his attacks fast and precise.

The Soldier, though less experienced, compensated with his brute strength and sharp reflexes, giving his all to challenge the younger man.

Their dance of steel grew more intense, each pushing the other to their limits. Helmut was surprised by the Soldier's natural skill, while the Soldier found a new form of freedom and connection through this duel, even though the sword was not his weapon of choice. 

Finally, Helmut disarmed the Soldier with a quick, elegant move, pointing the tip of his sword at his chest, both of them out of breath. The Soldier looked at the sword tip with a confused expression, not expecting to be disarmed after just a few minutes. He lifted his eyes to the younger man, whose hair was disheveled, eyes sparkling, and a wide, satisfied smile on his face.

"You’re quite good," he said, smiling, breathless but delighted. "But you still have a lot to learn, especially about your posture. Wrist movements aren’t everything."

Whatever the context, actually…

The Soldier smiled in return, his gaze filled with respect and affection for the young master. Helmut lowered his sword, allowing the Soldier to pick up his own.

"I’m ready to learn. With you."

"Then let's continue," he said, slowly moving closer before lowering his voice and raising his right hand toward the Soldier’s metal one, " and we will defeat HYDRA... "

The Soldier opened his metallic fingers to touch those of the young master, feeling a slight pressure on his artificial hand but still sensing the gentleness of the gesture. The Soldier was ready to unleash himself, in every sense of the word, alongside the young Zemo to confront HYDRA and its minions. The Soldier considered himself already powerful, the strongest and fiercest predator, but… the young Zemo was instilling an additional strength in him. He didn’t know he could become even more powerful by his side.

Helmut put the swords back in the rack, a gleam of challenge in his eyes.

"Since I beat you at fencing, let’s see how you do with hand-to-hand combat, shall we?" he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You can fight dirty if you want."

The Soldier was surprised to let out a small laugh, but it was the young man who was the most surprised of the two. He desperately wanted to hear that tinkling in the Soldier’s voice again.

The Soldier nodded, his expression returning to a serious demeanor. If the young master wanted to put his Krav Maga skills to the test, then so be it, but at his own risk. The Soldier was exceptionally skilled at hand-to-hand combat.

And yes, he followed no rules. He fought more than dirty.

"Let's go," he replied.

They positioned themselves, the young master adopting a defensive stance, ready to defend and counterattack. He knew the Soldier was extremely well-trained, but he wanted to test his own skills and reflexes and see how far he could push the man before him. 

Helmut attacked first again, launching a series of quick and precise punches, aiming for the Soldier’s vital points. The latter dodged and parried with disconcerting ease, his movements fluid and calculated, as if his senses were heightened and nothing escaped his eyes.

In the face of the attack, the Soldier abandoned dodging to counterattack, and Helmut quickly found himself on the defensive, blocking and deflecting the Soldier’s powerful blows, feeling the pain reverberate through each strike and impact.

The fight became increasingly intense, their bodies clashing, letting out grunts and sighs du to effort and rough treatment, hands gripping clothes and body parts within reach, limbs intertwining dangerously in attempts to neutralize each other, sending bodies sprawling across the tatami mats, and separating in a dance of strength and technique.

Helmut gave everything he had despite this furious dance with the Soldier, but he felt the latter's superiority, strength, and ferocity, who seemed to anticipate his every move like a panther playing with a poor little mouse.

Suddenly, the Soldier grabbed the younger man by the arm, pivoted, and slid his body against the master's, his back pressed against the young man's front, and unbalanced him, throwing him onto the tatami over his shoulder.

The air was brutally knocked out of the young master's lungs as he landed flat on his back on the floor, and in an instant, the Soldier was above him, pinning him firmly to the ground, his body pressed heavily against his to immobilize him.

Helmut panted, his breath short and quick, his heart pounding furiously in his chest from the effort and adrenaline. He felt the weight and heat of the Soldier’s body radiating through his own, and their faces were so close he could feel his breath on his cheek. An electric tension settled between them, their gazes crossing and locking, causing a sweet warmth in the lower parts of their bodies.

"Y-You’re good," the Soldier murmured, his voice hoarse and low, before whispering in the young man’s ear, " But I’m better... "

Helmut had to restrain himself from moaning, the breath and whisper of the Soldier’s voice against his ear sending an electric choc through his entire body, covering him completely in shivers despite the warmth of their bodies and the exertion.

" I-I never doubted that, " he replied in the same tone, his breath short for another reason.

The Soldier leaned in slightly, pressing their bodies even closer, if that were possible. The proximity, the heat, the adrenaline from the fight created a palpable tension between them. Helmut felt his heart pounding wildly, a strange and intoxicating sensation spreading through him, like the injection of a sweet drug that one becomes addicted to after the first dose.

"I must admit..." murmured Helmut, his voice trembling with emotion, "...I didn’t expect it to be so..."

Good.
Intense.
Arousing.

He took a deep breath, finally finding the right word to summarize this extreme combat and the desire burning within him.

"Wild..."

The Soldier locked eyes with the young master, his own emotions in turmoil, while the latter fixed his gaze on his, breathing in gasps due to the weight on his chest, his eyes darting between his eyes and his lips.

They remained still, savoring this moment of deep connection, each struggling not to pounce on the other like a bird of prey.

Helmut, still trapped under the Soldier, couldn’t help but feel a burning desire and growing affection for the man above him. He felt that something unexpressible had just been born between them, and if the door to the training room had been locked, then maybe…

Maybe…

Finally, the Soldier slightly loosened his grip, allowing Helmut to sit up a bit and breathe better. Strangely, the Soldier’s constriction around him had been far from unpleasant, and now that he had pulled away, a feeling of emptiness, of lack, of cold, had gripped the younger man.

They remained close, lying side by side on their backs on the tatami mats, slowly catching their breath, their shoulders pressed against each other, unable to break the contact.

"You’ll have to teach me more," Helmut murmured, eyes fixed on the ceiling before letting out a laugh. "You really gave me a hard time..!" He propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head to look at him, a smile on his lips but still serious. "So I can not only defend myself but also attack."

"I will teach you," the Soldier said, nodding, a new determination in his gaze and pride in his voice.

They eventually got up, their muscles still tense and emotions still running high. But one thing was clear: they were ready to face the world, united by an unbreakable bond and a shared promise.

Helmut smoothed his clothes, his muscles still sore and numb from their fight, and smiled at the Soldier, who was watching him intently.

"I must say you’re impressive in close combat," he said, taking a deep breath to calm the last palpitations of his heart, his cheeks flushed. "But… how about showing me your skills with blades?"

"Blades?" the Soldier asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued.

He liked blades.

Helmut walked over to a cabinet in the corner of the room and took out a box containing several throwing knives and daggers.

"I know you’re more comfortable with small blades rather than long swords," he explained, placing the box on the table. "How about we do some throwing?" He looked into his eyes. "I’ve heard you’re quite skilled at it..."

The Soldier felt the praise resonate through his entire body and nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips as he watched the younger man handle a throwing knife.

"I am," he said, picking up one of the daggers and testing it with his fingers. "But let’s see what you can do."

Helmut smiled, accepting the challenge, and positioned himself facing a target attached to the wall. He aligned his shoulders with his feet and took a deep breath to focus. He threw the blade, which stuck in the target but a bit off-center.

"Not too bad," he said, shrugging before turning to the Soldier. "But I know I can do better. My aim is better with a gun."

The Soldier almost shuddered at this revelation. The young master had already been close to the heart of the target, so if he was better with a gun…

He felt a warmth spread through his lower abdomen, and he blinked to focus.

He stepped forward in turn, his movements precise and assured. He threw the dagger, which landed in the exact center of the target, then quickly followed up with other blades, all hitting their mark with impressive accuracy.

Helmut watched, mesmerized, as the Soldier juggled the knives, passing them from one hand to the other with a disconcerting ease, as if they were an extension of himself.

"Wow, show me how you do that," the young master asked, fascinated. "That trick you did when you tossed the blade in the air before catching it."

The Soldier nodded and approached him, taking a blade and showing him how to hold it correctly.

He repeated the movements, more slowly, breaking them down to show him properly, explaining that it was about anticipation, self-confidence, and balance.

Wanting to demonstrate, he positioned himself behind the young master, guiding his movements with his hands over his, showing him how to throw and juggle the blade.

Helmut felt the Soldier's warmth behind him, and the proximity of their bodies awakened intense feelings within him. The Soldier pressed against his back made his mind wander, and the blade fell to the ground.

The Soldier said nothing, knowing it took practice to get there, but he realized in turn that his body against the younger man's, and his hands on his, guiding them, emitted an intense heat, causing another wave of adrenaline to course through his body.

The door suddenly opened, revealing the Baron, startling the young master, and the Soldier quickly stepped away, adopting a rigid and distant posture, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"Helmut," the Baron said in a deep voice. "What are you doing here with the Soldier?" He noticed that the Soldier hadn't put his mask back on, and he eyed him suspiciously.

"We’re training, father," Helmut replied calmly, bending down to pick up the blade that had fallen to the floor. "There’s nothing wrong."

"Soldier," the Baron’s gaze turned to him, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Your task is to protect my son, not to train him to protect himself . That’s your job, your mission."

"I apologize, Sir," the Soldier said, bowing his head submissively.

Helmut suddenly felt anger and injustice welling up inside him and quickly intervened, stepping between his father and the Soldier.

"Father, I asked him to train with me. He was only following my orders."

The Baron observed Helmut for a moment, seeming to weigh his words. It was true that his son could have fun with the Soldier if he wanted, as long as it didn’t take degrading turns. He knew that some HYDRA agents, some of the Soldier’s handlers, or clients, had used the Soldier sexually for their own pleasures. He didn’t care what those people did; he just didn’t want his son, his only son, playing sodomite with a toy that everyone had already used.

This idea disgusted him to the highest degree, casting a look at the Soldier that concealed nothing of his feelings.

But he turned to his son, took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Very well," he said finally. "But remember, Helmut, that our security and objectives come first. Don’t let him get distracted." He fixed his son with a stern look. "I have plans for you, do not disappoint me."

Helmut nodded, his throat tightening as he felt his father’s anger and tension filling the room. Did his father already have suspicions? Or did he know his inclinations..?

"Of course, father."

The Baron turned and left the room, leaving Helmut and the Soldier alone again. Once the door closed, Helmut exhaled loudly, breathing again, and turned to the Soldier, who still looked tense.

"I am... really sorry..." murmured Helmut. "I didn’t mean to put you in a delicate position or get you in trouble..."

The Soldier raised his eyes to him, his gaze softened, but he didn’t dare get closer to the younger man.

Fearing the Baron was still near the door, he measured his words.

"It’s not your fault, Master," he said. "I was just following orders."

Helmut frowned, unsure if he was taking precautions by repeating his excuse from earlier, or if the Soldier had genuinely taken it as orders.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, the sudden fear that the Soldier had been conditioned to respond to any sign of openness.

"I see," he said softly, lowering his eyes and looking at the blade still in his fingers. "But," he raised his head, locking eyes with the Soldier, "just because my father caused a scene doesn’t mean I’ll stop my little project. I want to keep learning with you."

The Soldier nodded but felt a pang in his chest, his instinct telling him that something was wrong. Something was no longer right.

"I will continue to teach you," he said simply. "If that is your wish."

Helmut felt something tighten in his stomach, but the door to the room opened again, this time revealing Oeznik.

"Master," he said, bowing politely before looking at the Soldier. "The Baron wishes to speak with you alone."

The Soldier felt his throat tighten and simply nodded, unable to articulate anything. 

He glanced at the young master, trying to convey his emotions through that visual exchange, but had to follow the butler to be escorted to the Baron, leaving his young master alone behind him.

Chapter Text

The Soldier followed Oeznik in silence, his mind alert and ready to face whatever awaited him. He knew that the Baron was not one to take lightly anything concerning his son, especially regarding the relationships he might have.

When they arrived at the office door, Oeznik stepped aside to let the Soldier through, who entered the room with a military stride. Baron Zemo was standing behind his desk, his features strained with anger and frustration from the earlier altercation. He gestured for the Soldier to approach, and once the latter was within earshot and the door was closed, the Baron spoke, his voice icy and sharp as a blade.

"Soldier," he began without preamble, "it seems you have forgotten your place and your role in this house."

The Soldier remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the Baron, but a palpable tension had formed in his muscles. He knew that any incorrect response could worsen the situation.

"I have not forgotten, Sir," he finally replied in a calm and controlled voice, not wanting to appear flippant.

"Really?" The Baron straightened, moving around his desk to approach the Soldier. "Then explain to me why you allow yourself to get close to my son, to touch him, to... fraternize with him."

The Soldier met the Baron's gaze, recalling HYDRA's directives and the Baron's particular expectations, and knowing full well that the term fraternize had been used to replace another.

"Your son wanted to show me his combat skills, Sir, and also asked me to train him so he could improve his techniques. I was merely responding to his requests, sir."

"You have no right to respond to such requests," the Baron hissed, stepping closer until he was right in front of him. "He has teachers for that. Your role is to protect him, to ensure his safety, and nothing more. A dog has no right to train anyone or anything." 

The Soldier said nothing, sensing the Baron's anger transforming into a palpable threat.

"Let me make one thing clear," the Baron said in a lower, more menacing voice. "My son is precious to me, and I will not tolerate any distractions. Especially not from someone like you."

With a swift and unexpected movement, the Baron struck the Soldier in the face, cutting his lip with one of his rings. The Soldier stepped back from the impact but remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor, not wanting to challenge the Baron with his eyes. The Baron advanced again, this time hitting the Soldier in the stomach, making him double over in pain.

"Do you understand what I am saying, Soldier?" the Baron spat, his voice full of contempt. "You are nothing here. You are a weapon, a tool. And tools have no friends, no... contact or relationships."

The Soldier slowly straightened up, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand and ignoring the pain in his abdomen. His face remained impassive, but a spark of anger began to ignite within him.

"Yes, Sir," he replied in a rough voice. "I understand."

"Good." The Baron stepped back, satisfied with the response but still suspicious. "Now, return to your quarters. And remember well what I told you." He locked his gaze with his. "You are just a dog, not a human. Do not approach him as if you have a soul." He fixed him intensely. "If I catch you, I will report directly to General Karpov."

The Soldier bowed slightly to show his submission, a dreadful pain spreading through his chest at the sound of these painful words, before leaving the room, the taste of blood and humiliation in his mouth.

As he walked away, he felt a cold rage rising within him, a renewed determination to protect the young master, no matter the cost. But he also knew that Baron Heinrich Zemo would not let him do so easily. He would have to be more vigilant, more discreet, and above all, find a way to circumvent the orders without breaking them. For the young man, for their common cause, and for this strange bond that grew stronger day by day.

And today, more than a week later, the encounter with the Baron had still left an indelible mark on the Soldier's mind. The Soldier had meticulously distanced himself from the young master to ensure his safety. Helmut perceived this distance as a personal rejection, convinced he had made a mistake. Despite the Soldier's detachment, the young master desperately tried to bridge the gap between them.

The mid-January nights were the hardest for the youngest. The Soldier no longer slept by his side, nor even in the same room. Instead, he stood guard outside the door in the hallway, a stoic and distant silhouette.

On some nights, Helmut would wake suddenly to the sound of gunfire from Novi Grad, the echoes ricocheting through the countryside to the Manor. He sought the Soldier's presence for reassurance, but fear and pain were his only companions, suffocating him in their anguished grip, knowing the Soldier had been sent to Novi Grad for the Harvest, a mission that kept him away for hours and put his life at risk.

Helmut was tired but determined to understand and fix what had broken between him and the Soldier.

When he was present at the Manor, the youngest tried to recreate the moments of intimacy they once shared.

One evening, while the Baron was away at the Fortress for the Superhuman project, Helmut invited the Soldier to dinner in the private library, hoping to regain a semblance of normalcy. They had never had the opportunity to eat together, as the Soldier always ate separately and after his masters. He was also subject to a very specific diet, but Helmut wanted to change that, he wanted to spend time with him.

He missed him.

The Soldier had accepted out of obligation, but his behavior remained distant, his responses short and polite, avoiding prolonged eye contact. He feared exposing the young master to serious trouble, and he didn't want to risk being punished himself, or worse, being wiped to make him forget the young Zemo.

"Солдат," Helmut began, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. "I need to know," he locked eyes with the one sitting across from him at the table in the library, but motionless. "Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?"

The Soldier, sitting upright in his chair, looked at the table, not having touched his plate, and avoiding the pleading eyes of the young master. He knew that answering honestly would put the young master in danger, so he merely murmured a vague response.

"I am doing what is necessary for your safety, Master."

Helmut clenched his fists under the table, running his tongue between his lips, frustrated by this evasive answer.

He knew there was more than the Soldier was willing to admit.

"It's not just a matter of safety," Helmut insisted. "There's something more, isn't there ? You can tell me. We were so close, and now... it's like you're… miles away from me,” He swallowed. “...even when you're right here."

The Soldier remained silent, each word from the young master stabbing at his heart. He desperately wanted to tell the truth, but he couldn't risk the Baron's wrath again.

Finally, he straightened and stood up from his chair, taking an even more rigid posture.

The youngest's safety was more important than anything else.

"I must ensure your protection, Master," he repeated, his voice flat and detached. "That's all that matters."

Helmut stood up abruptly, nearly toppling his chair, making everything on the table wobble. Tears of frustration threatened to fall, but he held them back.

"So the rest doesn't matter to you at all?" he said, his voice trembling with contained emotion. "I-I... don't matter to you..?"

The Soldier remained frozen, unable to respond, every fiber of his being screaming to comfort him, to explain the truth. But he knew he couldn't. Not while the Baron was watching closely.

He hated himself for staying emotionless that night, for swallowing his feelings, his desire to be close to the young master, and for leaving the youngest in a suffering that broke an unsuspected heart within the Soldier.

In the following days, young Zemo continued to find ways to get closer to the Soldier. He proposed training sessions, but the Soldier was barely invested in their interactions, as if he feared hurting him or being caught training the young master. Helmut then tried more relaxed moments by talking about literature and philosophy, attempting to amuse the Soldier by juggling between the different languages they mastered. He even tried walks in the manor gardens and to the edge of the property, down to the lake. Each attempt was accepted, but a distance always remained between them, only accentuating the pain in the young master's heart.

But on this night of January 30, 1999, as Helmut tossed and turned in his bed, he heard a noise outside his room. He got up silently and opened the door, finding the Soldier returning from one of his nocturnal missions. He was covered in blood, his face closed off behind his mask, but the fatigue was clearly visible in his eyes.

Helmut rushed to him, forgetting all caution, his heart pounding with anxiety that this blood might be his.

"Солдат,! Are you hurt?" he asked, panic in his voice.

The Soldier noticed his presence as he initially headed to his quarters to clean up, but seeing this distress, he felt compelled to reassure the young master to some extent.

He shook his head, facing the youngest.

"It's nothing, Master. Just scratches."

Helmut grabbed his arm, forcing him into the room without asking his opinion and closed the door behind them. He turned and began to inspect his body and the bloodstains on his uniform.

"Let me help you. I need to make sure it's not worse than just scratches."

The Soldier wanted to protest, but the determination in Helmut's eyes made him relent. He allowed the young master to remove his mask, holster, combat belt, and harness. But when one strap of the latter was loosened, the Soldier inhaled sharply, feeling the pain from the knife wound in his left side suddenly flare up.

The young master promptly looked up at him, eyes wide, panic painted on his face.

"You're injured..."

This time, he loosened the straps more gently, opening the sides of his jacket that stuck to his skin due to blood and sweat. Seeing the wound, thin but about two centimeters wide and likely very deep, he winced. Blood oozed abundantly, indicating it was certainly a wound inflicted by a blade.

"It's nothing," the Soldier said in a neutral tone. "I'll heal quickly."

The youngest looked up at him, reprimanding him with his eyes, and guided him to a chair to sit him down. Young Zemo disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returning with the first aid kit. He began to take out supplies to disinfect and stitch up the wound, but the Soldier gently grabbed his hand when he approached with the gauze to disinfect.

"I will heal quickly."

"You'll bleed for a long time if I do nothing. Given the flow, you took a blade about ten centimeters long, probably to the hilt."

Helmut began cleaning the wound before disinfecting it. He knew the Soldier was a superhuman, a super soldier even. It was a project HYDRA had been working on for decades. He knew, thanks to the documentation he had found in his father's office, that the Soldier was unique, the only one who had managed to survive and be so receptive to HYDRA's conditioning. They had tried, through experiments on him, to recreate other Winter Soldiers, but they had been too dangerous, and they had been neutralized until they figured out what to do with them.

A pang of jealousy began to seize the youngest’s stomach. Knowing that other super soldiers existed made him uncomfortable. In his eyes, there was only the Soldier, and he alone deserved the title of Winter Soldier, though he wished it were otherwise.

Knowing that forces of nature were locked away somewhere, dangerous and out of control, suddenly scared him.

The Soldier was not dangerous nor out of control. He was, unfortunately, docile and never exceeded the limits set for him.

Perhaps it wasn’t the famous serum that made the difference, but the man behind it.

Perhaps the recent winter soldiers were ruthless, unscrupulous humans, devoid of empathy, which is why they lost control, with the serum exacerbating the darkness in their souls.

The Soldier was most certainly a good man before falling into the Beast’s clutches. The man within the Soldier made all the difference, and this idea made him nauseous. He didn’t know everything about the Soldier before him, but he felt in his gut that the man inside didn’t deserve such a life. He wanted to get him out, to save him.

Seeing his physical and mental state, as well as his living conditions, caused him a pain that clenched his heart.

“Why do you put yourself in danger like this..?” whispered Helmut, focused on his task. “I don’t want you to suffer needlessly...” The wound was now clean, and the edges of the wound began to swell slightly, reducing the bleeding. Helmut placed a cloth against it and applied pressure to stop the hemorrhage. The Soldier winced under the pressure but said nothing. “I want you to take care of yourself…”

“Why..?”

Helmut looked up at him, pressing a bit harder on the wound intentionally to cause the Soldier extra pain, to bring him to attention.

“I’ve told you,” he said, his eyes locked with his. “You don’t deserve to suffer for this, for HYDRA.” He reduced the pressure. “And I care about you…” He swallowed around the knot forming in his throat, feeling the bitterness and anger burning his throat and then his cheeks. “...Even if it means nothing to you.”

“That’s not true,” the Soldier retorted immediately. “I… I’m just following orders,” he replied, his voice barely audible this time. “So… so I don’t forget you…”

Helmut paused for a moment, giving the Soldier an intense look. What was he talking about? What orders? And why was he afraid of forgetting? Forgetting what?

“And if I gave you an order? An order to stay by my side, to no longer put yourself in unnecessary danger?” Helmut tilted his head, his hand still pressing on the wound with the compression cloth. “Would it override the orders that keep you away from me, or would you refuse to follow mine?”

The Soldier felt his heart tighten, torn between his duty and the desire to stay with Helmut. He knew he couldn’t disobey the Baron, but he also couldn’t continue to see the pain in the young master’s eyes. And he could no longer endure his own pain, burning his stomach, much more intense and unbearable than the knife this anarchist had plunged into his flesh tonight.

“I…” He swallowed with difficulty, the choice being complicated. “...will do everything in my power to protect you, Master,” he finally said, his voice soft but determined. “Even if it means staying by your side and risking your father’s wrath.”

Helmut’s eyes widened, completely shocked by what he had just heard.

“It’s because of my father, this whole thing?” Anger surged violently, and the youngest stood up abruptly, completely releasing the pressure. The bleeding had stopped anyway. “Fuck my father,” he approached the Soldier, who was surprised at the curse, leaning on the chair’s armrests, towering over him, “stay with me tonight.” The Soldier’s eyes widened in turn, a sudden anxiety twisting his insides. “You have nothing to fear.”

Except the young master wasn’t aware that the Baron had raised his hand against him and threatened him.

Strucker didn’t know either.

Nor did Karpov.

“If it’s my father that terrifies you, know that he’s been gone all day and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.” He looked at him with a softer expression, taking a deeper breath, his voice suddenly filled with emotions. “ P-Prosím… P-Please...”

The Soldier took a deep breath, then nodded gently.

Chapter Text

Helmut felt a shiver of relief run down his spine when he saw the Soldier nod gently. He finished applying the large dressing to the wound, his hands trembling slightly. The Soldier had refused to be stitched up, stating it was unnecessary since he would heal quickly, but Helmut wanted to ensure he was as comfortable as possible.

"Thank you for accepting my help," Helmut whispered, slowly standing up.

His heart was pounding, not just from anxiety, but also from what he had planned. He glanced at the Soldier, looking for signs of reluctance or fear, but the latter remained stoic, his eyes fixed on Helmut, an inscrutable glint in his gaze. Helmut briefly wondered if he was pushing things too far, but he quickly dismissed that thought. He needed this closeness, the bond they once shared.

"Come," he said softly, extending a hand to the Soldier. "Let's go to the bed..."

The Soldier hesitated for a moment, then gently took the offered hand. Helmut felt the warmth and strength of that hand, despite the gentleness with which it held his. They moved towards the bed, and Helmut sat on the edge, gently pulling the Soldier to sit beside him.

The ensuing silence was heavy with unspoken words, unasked questions, and unexpressed fears. Helmut searched for his words, trying to articulate what he felt without frightening the Soldier.

"I know... that all of this is complicated," he began, his voice trembling. "But you mean... a lot to me." He observed him. "I don't want to see you suffer or put yourself in unnecessary danger."

The Soldier remained silent, his eyes fixed on Helmut's hands holding his own. Helmut took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his emotions on his shoulders.

"I want us to get back what we had before," he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, caressing the Soldier's fingers with his own. "I want to be close to you... feel you near me... know that you're safe."

The Soldier looked up, finally meeting Helmut's gaze. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, a pain that Helmut could almost touch. But there was also a glimmer of desire, something he had never dared to express.

"I…" the Soldier started, his voice rough with emotion.

Without further thought, Helmut leaned in, his lips brushing against the Soldier's. The contact was electric, a mix of softness and repressed desire. The Soldier responded immediately, deepening the kiss, his left hand sliding behind the younger’s neck to draw him closer.

Their kiss suddenly intensified at the Soldier's initiative, becoming more urgent and passionate, their lips meeting with an unexpected hunger. Helmut placed his left hand against the Soldier's cheek, the other on his opposite hip, feeling his body heat up, every fiber of his being vibrating with desire. His heart skipped a beat, sending an intense jolt to his groin when he felt the Soldier's tongue brush his lip. He instinctively parted his lips, moaning into the Soldier's mouth as he caressed his tongue with his own.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

He wasn't going to last, the sweatpants he wore were far too tight, and just from the resistance of the fabric, he might just…

Helmut was brought back to reality when a slight movement from the Soldier gently pushed him to lie down on the bed, feeling the latter quickly kicking his boots off. The Soldier lay down beside him, their lips never parting, their tongues entwining together.

The young Zemo was out of breath, far too sensitive to the wet kiss and the desire burning in his body and between his legs. He broke the kiss briefly to take a deep breath before sliding his tongue back into the Soldier's mouth, wanting only one thing: to devour and be devoured.

The Soldier didn’t know what gave him such confidence. Usually, he never dared to do anything unless asked, but everything felt different now. His body, heart, and soul craved the young master in every way. Feeling him against him, his warmth, his scent, his taste, he was overwhelmed. He was intoxicated and wanted even more. He wanted him all to himself.

Mine.

He let his flesh fingers slide over the young master’s stomach, feeling it contract under the fabric of his t-shirt, regretting not being bolder to slip them directly onto the skin. He reluctantly abandoned the younger's mouth to let his lips glide along his jaw before moving lower, onto his throat. He felt the young master breathing heavily under his attentions, his hands desperately trying to grip him, to cling to his clothes.

His scent, his warmth was so strong and intoxicating on the thin skin of his neck that he couldn’t help but let the tip of his tongue run over his throat, drawing a loud sigh from the younger. The fire was consuming him from the inside, and a primal need seized him violently, a need he hadn’t felt in… well, he didn’t know since when, or even if he had ever desired anyone as much as at that moment.

The Soldier bit the flesh under his lips gently, and a cry of pleasure escaped the young master’s lips, which he immediately tried to stifle.

“Don’t hold back…”

Helmut rolled his eyes, breathing quickly due to his pounding heart. He wanted so much more, to go so much further. But he couldn’t, he just couldn’t.

Struggling with a steely mentality, the younger one reopened his eyes and pushed the Soldier back slightly to straighten up before making him roll fully onto his back and climbing over him, straddling his hips before sitting against them, his hands exploring his chest over the jacket and harness straps with desperate tenderness.

The Soldier closed his eyes, sighing, sensing that his desire was shared with that of the young master, his hands naturally finding the younger's hips, caressing them softly before sliding up his right hand along his back and down to his hip again.

“What do you like, Солдат...?”

The latter reopened his eyes, uncertain if he had heard the question correctly or if he simply hadn't understood. He wasn't sure if it was because his brain was struggling to reconnect to comprehend the words, or if it was because the question seemed alien to him.

Helmut saw the confusion in the Soldier’s eyes and took a deep breath to force himself to focus and not overstep. With his hands still on the Soldier's chest, he ceased the friction of his hips against his, which he had unconsciously initiated.

He swallowed, his eyes locked with the Soldier's.

"Солдат..." He didn't know how to phrase it without being too direct, but he couldn’t be too vague either. "My desire for you is real..." he took a deep shuddering breath, saying it out loud was something . "Is your desire for me real?"

"I-I desire you, Master..."

Helmut bit the tip of his tongue and locked his entire body to avoid moving against the Soldier’s body.

This man was going to drive him mad.

“Do you feel forced, obliged to do what we are doing...?" The Soldier’s eyes widened, shaking his head from side to side. "Have you been ordered to satisfy me?"

"I have not received such orders, no," the Soldier said, confused, furrowing his brows. "I... I'm just following... my instinct, Master..."

Helmut let out a ragged breath, realizing that the Soldier was very likely indeed master of his own free will in this situation, and this thought sent a surge of adrenaline directly to his groin. He closed his eyes for a moment to contain himself.

God, it was terrible to resist like this…

"And what would you do to satisfy me?" he articulated, eyes now open again, seeing the Soldier’s pupils as black as night.

"Anything you want, Master..."

"A-And-" his voice faltered for a moment, "And what could I do to satisfy you..?" He took a deep breath, not giving the Soldier time to respond, fearing he might simply answer the same thing. "What do you like, Солдат..?" He ran his tongue between his lips, beginning to move his hips slowly against the Soldier's. "What do you want me to do to please you..?"

The Soldier closed his eyes, savoring the younger man's movements, pressing their desires against each other through their clothes.

He wanted so many things, really. He wanted everything from the young master and to give him everything of himself.

He knew how to do many things to satisfy others' desires, but he was always the one giving, not receiving. Or very rarely, when he was ordered to serve those who sought submission and the loss of control. But it never was for his pleasure.

But this, this was different. The young master was asking him. He was asking him what he liked, asking his opinion because the young master wanted to give him pleasure and not just expect him to give it first.

His heart ached painfully with euphoria, and tears welled up in his eyes, realizing that the young master genuinely cared for him. He was seeking his consent, seeking his pleasure first before his own.

" I... " he said, his throat tight. "I like it when... you touch me..." He felt his face heat up under the confession. "No one... ever cares..." He closed his eyes for a moment, as if ashamed. "It's... never as gentle as with you..."

Helmut wanted to kill everyone who had dared to lay their hands on the Soldier for their own pleasure, ignoring that the man was human, that he deserved to be treated well and loved.

The younger man leaned down to kiss the Soldier again, his fingers gripping the straps of his harness, sliding his tongue between his lips to show him he would give him the pleasure he deserved.

"I am not those monsters..." Helmut said breathlessly against his lips, "I will make you see stars, I will make you forget HYDRA, I will make you lose yourself in the dark depths of pleasure, where the only light, the only sun you will see and that will warm you, will bear my name."

" Y-Yes, please.. ."

" Tell me to stop if it doesn’t suit you. "

The Soldier nodded quickly, and Helmut captured his lips once more, sliding them together, slipping his tongue into the Soldier’s mouth to dance together while undoing the last straps of the harness. As his hips resumed their slow back-and-forth motion, making the Soldier sigh against his lips, his hands moved down to the bottom of his jacket to open it more fully, revealing the Soldier’s skin.

The dressing was still there, of course, and Helmut broke the kiss to sit up and gaze at the Soldier. He had seen him when he had helped him wash after the assassination attempt on the night of the gala, but he had looked away.

Tonight, he had the right, the permission to look, and he savored the sight of the Soldier lying flat on his back beneath him, his uniform jacket open, his muscles finely defined under his skin, and his pupils dilated with excitement, his cheeks and the tip of his nose slightly flushed.

“ You’re beautiful… ”

The Soldier closed his eyes, exhaling softly and letting the sensation of pleasure from the praise wash over him. The sight was incredible, and Helmut realized the Soldier was sensitive to praise and compliments.

He moved back a bit, descending lower on his legs to start unbuckling the Soldier’s belt, slowly, without breaking eye contact.

“ You know… ” Helmut began in half words while moving to the button. “I have a bit of experience with... men ,” he said even lower, fearing the walls might hear and betray him. “But not in every way, so…” he ran his tongue between his lips, “I’m sorry if it’s not perfect…”

“It will be perfect because it’s you, Master…”

Helmut smiled faintly and gently pulled down the Soldier’s pants, then lifted himself slightly to remove them entirely. He repositioned himself between his legs on the mattress, kneeling, and raised a hand to lightly brush the erection still trapped under the Soldier’s underwear.

The Soldier took a deep breath, not taking his eyes off the young master for a second, savoring the sight of his pupils as dilated as his own, and the determination mixed with desire painted on his face.

The young master was so beautiful, and he was so lucky that the latter gave him attention like he had never been allowed. He didn’t know what was happening deep within him, but it was powerful, and the Soldier wanted it to last forever, he wanted the young master to stay with him.

He wanted to run away with him…

Helmut began to slide his fingers with more pressure and application over the bulge before him, tracing its shape, then cupping it in his palm.

He licked his lips in anticipation, then slid his fingers under the elastic of the underwear, eliciting a sigh from the Soldier, who remained silent but focused on every sensation he was giving him.

Helmut began to pull down the fabric, the last barrier separating him from the Soldier, and finally revealed the man’s erection in front of him, taut, glistening, and flushed at the tip. His breath hitched at the sight, feeling desire twist his stomach and his own erection throb under his clothes.

He looked up at the Soldier, cheeks flushed with pleasure and vulnerability in exposing himself like this to the younger man. Helmut gave a gentle smile before placing his hands under the Soldier’s knees to lift them and better spread his legs. The Soldier was so docile it was painful, both to see him offer himself like this and to know he had probably been in a similar situation and commanded to do so.

He leaned toward him, between his legs, supporting himself on his fists on either side of the man’s hips, before pressing his lips to the Soldier’s again. The latter sighed, raising his right hand to cup the younger man’s face as he responded to the kiss. He suddenly gasped in his mouth, feeling young Zemo’s fingers wrap around his shaft, and the contact sent an electric shock through his brain. Nothing like the wipes he endured.

He slid his tongue between his lips, sighing loudly as he felt the younger man start to move his hand up and down in a slow, deft motion.

Helmut wanted the Soldier to dissociate what they were doing from what he had endured. He wanted him to remember this for the rest of his life, to remember that he could be loved, that this kind of pleasure was spontaneous, consensual, and not forced.

He quickened the pace a bit, his left wrist moving skillfully in fluid but firm motions, eliciting light moans that the Soldier tried to hold back.

“No one will hear or surprise us, Солдат…” Helmut said, breaking the kiss before moving to his neck to nibble the thin skin under his ear, hearing a growl escape from the Soldier’s throat. “You can let go, enjoy yourself… That’s all I desire…” He licked his throat from bottom to top before returning to nibble his jaw. “I’d like you to take pleasure, to focus on yourself, on what makes you shiver…” He tightened his fingers around his erection as he continued his stroking. “And feel like you’re exploding like the grand finale of a fireworks display…”

“ Hhhhh m-master… ”

The Soldier wanted to embrace him with all his strength, but he knew he couldn’t, at the risk of breaking him. He was never allowed to use his left arm in situations like this; it was forbidden, it was a weapon, and he mustn’t threaten the clients or his handlers.

Helmut felt the Soldier trembling under him, under his attentions, and he heard the slight hum of his left arm as his metal fingers desperately tried to grip the sheets.

“You can touch me, Солдат…”

“ I-It’s… forbidden…”

“I forbid you nothing…” he kissed him again, running the pad of his thumb over the wet and sensitive slit at the tip. The Soldier gasped in pleasure, his legs almost shaking under his touch. “I trust you…”

The Soldier wrapped his arms around the younger man again, pulling him even closer, furiously plunging his tongue into his master’s throat and wrapping his legs around his legs.

Helmut let out a cry of surprise and pleasure as his body collided with the Soldier's in the movement, their hips crashing together, feeling the Soldier's strength around him once more.

"T-Together, please... " murmured the Soldier against the younger man's lips. " I... want you to feel good too… "

The younger man's heart raced dangerously at the prospect of what they could do together. Helmut broke the kiss and the embrace to sit up on his knees, removing his t-shirt in one motion and helping the Soldier remove the rest of his jacket. He lowered his sweatpants and underwear slightly before pressing against the Soldier again, the warm, soft contact eliciting a groan of pleasure from both of them.

The Soldier wrapped his arms around the younger man again, trapping his legs behind his, before kissing him with fervor and fever.

Helmut almost jumped at the cold metal of the Soldier's arm when it touched his skin, but the sensation quickly became an anchor in reality, and while responding to the kiss, he slid his left hand between their bodies again to grasp both their lengths together and start stroking them.

Helmut restrained a cry of pleasure, it was so intense, trying to catch his breath through the feverish kiss and his racing heart. He had never felt this with anyone. His experiences were limited, and he had only had a few opportunities to share this kind of thing with another man.

But this was something else entirely. It was like having the chance and the honor to satisfy a god, to be chosen to achieve the impossible, and somehow succeeding through some miracle.

The Soldier was moaning beneath him, under his touch, his fingers, and his lips. The man rolled his hips in rhythm with his, sliding his member with his between his fingers. Helmut buried his face in the Soldier's neck, moaning, before biting his lip almost to the point of drawing blood as he felt the Soldier's metal fingers dig into the flesh of his right cheek butt. The strength was incredible, he would definitely have bruises, but the pain heightened his pleasure, and as he straightened up, he saw the Soldier throwing his head back into the pillow, exposing his throat, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, and face flushed.

" You are wonderful, Солда т ... "

The Soldier's body was seized by a violent spasm at the praise, and he opened his eyes wide to anchor them in the young master's. He was so close, but he couldn't reach it. Not without permission.

" M-Master... " He was out of breath, and his stomach contracted painfully under the pressure building within him. " P-please.. ."

" Come for me, Солда т."

A cry tore from the Soldier's throat as he suddenly came between their bodies and the younger man's fingers, pressing his head into the pillow with loud gasps and moans.

Helmut came instantly, feeling the Soldier's hot seed sliding over his own length, between his fingers, panting loudly at the sight of the Soldier in full ecstasy.

" Hhhh k-kurva... f-fuck... "

Helmut leaned over the Soldier to force his tongue into his throat, slowing his movements as he felt his own member becoming more sensitive.

Out of breath, he withdrew his hand, gently sat up on his heels to look into the Soldier's eyes, seeking a sign that everything was okay.

" Солда т..?" The latter seemed far away in his mind, but he refocused on the young master upon hearing his name. "Are you okay..?" The Soldier took a deep breath and nodded before smiling softly. "You..." Helmut let out a small laugh, shaking his head, smiling. "That was incredible..." he looked at the Soldier with sparkling eyes. "I..." he felt the words threatening to spill out, but he held them back. Not now, he didn't want to disturb him too much. "I think you and I need a good shower now."

The Soldier let out a soft laugh, finding an anchor in reality by losing himself in the eyes, voice, and beauty of his master, as well as his tenderness and smile.

"I've never felt anything like that, Master..." He inhaled, a lopsided smile on his lips, before sitting up on his elbows and kissing the young master lightly before diving his gaze back into his. "I think..." he swallowed. "I think I belong to you..."

Helmut felt his heart skip a beat and then accelerate immediately after. Breathless, he descended on the Soldier's lips, kissing him as he tried to convey his feelings as much as possible through it.

The Soldier's phrasing was clumsy, but Helmut knew what he meant.

He felt the same way.

Chapter Text

Several days had passed since that unforgettable night between the Soldier and the young master. 

Today, the atmosphere in the Isolated Fortress was completely different, tense, as Dr. Hale prepared to present her report to Commander Strucker and Baron Zemo. The Soldier stood rigidly at the back of the dimly lit room, his face expressionless, while the Baron, leaning against a nearby wall, displayed palpable impatience. 

Dr. Hale took a deep breath before beginning, her voice remaining steady despite the gravity of her revelations.

"Commander Strucker, Baron Zemo," she began formally, "as you know, our project aimed at creating superhumans is encountering significant difficulties. Our experiments have yielded catastrophic results." She pinched her lips while glancing at her notes. "Many subjects have died, and those who have survived are suffering greatly. Some show a certain receptivity but are uncontrollable and could cause a threat to our operations."

Strucker's expression remained inscrutable. Being present at the Fortress every day to oversee military operations and closely monitor scientific advancements, he was, of course, already aware. But his eyes turned to Baron Zemo, who appeared increasingly aggravated upon learning this meeting was about bad news.

"We have no choice but to eliminate these subjects to prevent them from becoming a threat to HYDRA," Dr. Hale continued. "We do not want to repeat the fiasco that was the Winter Soldiers project."

The Baron shook his head, annoyed by the continuous stream of bad news, and straightened up, frustration boiling within him.

"This is unacceptable," he said, approaching Strucker's desk. "I have invested a substantial amount of money in this project. We need results, and quickly, Strucker." The Commander looked up at him, challenging him with his gaze behind his monocle. "With the success of this project, HYDRA could provide Sokovia with an army of super-soldiers, establishing its dominance over Eastern European countries." The Baron began pacing the room, the Soldier silently observing him from afar. "The current civil war, with the United States threatening to intervene for years, could destroy Sokovia as it did for Yugoslavia in 1992. This army is our only means to save Sokovia from dissolution."

Strucker sighed, aware that this confrontation was inevitable, but he knew they couldn't rush the process. Since Erskine had created the serum in the 1930s and Malick had succeeded in stealing the key element of the formula to bring it to HYDRA, things had evolved significantly.

Indeed, the first trial in the 1940s on Schmidt had been a disaster, his appearance and personality had been completely altered, leading to a delusional grandeur within HYDRA, even though the weapons projects with the Tesseract were still something that floated in the minds of the organization's higher ups, notably Strucker's. 

The only real success had been achieved by Arnim Zola in 1943 in Austria, by pushing his experiments on the American soldier James Buchanan Barnes, before all his research was destroyed when Captain America came to free the prisoners from the camp.

Thinking of this, he cast a glance at the Soldier at the back of the room, recalling everything he had been told about him when he was still training in HYDRA's schools. It was funny to observe the Soldier, who looked like a man between twenty-five and thirty, while he himself, born forty-five years after him, was physically about ten years older. 

The Soldier was the only individual for whom the transformation had succeeded and had been perfect for the subsequent conditioning, but no one had ever managed to recreate this serum afterwards. 

Not even Howard Stark had succeeded in creating anything concrete, as the serums the Soldier had recovered in December 1991 for the Winter Soldiers project had not been conclusive. The Winter Soldier, present here, was the only relic of Zola's successful project and all projects about the Super Soldiers Serum.

If one disregarded that Captain America had disappeared from the radar in 1943 with the Tesseract in the Arctic, obviously, but no one could survive a bomber crash with so many charges. Not even a super soldier.

"Baron Zemo," Strucker began after extracting himself from his thoughts, "I understand that you want results, but we cannot skip steps. As you already know, the Winter Soldiers program was a total failure because the scientists were too confident in the formula they hadn’t test beforehand. Despite the initial success," he cast another glance at the Soldier, "the other Winter Soldiers became uncontrollable, leading to disastrous consequences. We cannot afford to repeat that."

The Baron's face turned crimson with annoyance as he shot a penetrating glance at the Soldier before refocusing on the Commander.

"I don't want excuses, Strucker. We have the perfect specimen right here," he said, pointing to the Soldier at the back of the room. "His blood could be the key to our success...!"

Strucker shook his head firmly before rising to face the Baron at eye level, leaning on his desk.

"Baron Zemo, it is strictly forbidden to repeat the mistakes of the Winter Soldier project. No one is allowed to experiment on the Soldier without the authorization of his handler, General Karpov."

The Baron's eyes narrowed as he approached the desk, slowly leaning on the wood, causing it to creak slightly under his weight.

"I am not interested in your fears, Strucker. I want results, and I want them now. If you can't achieve them, then I will handle it myself."

With those words, Baron Heinrich Zemo turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Strucker and Dr. Hale in heavy silence.

The Soldier remained motionless, his thoughts swirling between the duty to follow the Baron for close protection and his concern over the last words the man had spoken.

He was relieved to hear that no research team would subject him to tests, but the dark determination he had seen in the Baron’s eyes gave him a strange feeling of heaviness in his stomach.

He knew they would need to find other subjects to continue the superhuman project, but now he had to be wary of the Baron. He didn't want the latter to lay hands on him again, and he didn't want to reach the point of warning his handler Karpov, risking potential harm to the Baron, who was still the father of the young master he cared for so much.

He was brought back to reality when Strucker turned to Dr. Hale, his voice rumbling with frustration.

"We need to find a way to stabilize the serum. We cannot break Karpov's rules regarding the Soldier."

Dr. Hale nodded, already formulating new plans and calculations.

"I'll start immediately, Strucker. We'll need more test subjects, though, and we'll have to be extremely cautious with the dosages, which are evidently too high."

Strucker let Hale leave the office to return to her plans, then he turned to the Soldier. He strode across the room to join him and met him at eye level, anchoring his gaze in his.

"Soldier," he said firmly. "If the Baron attempts anything on you to draw your blood or conduct any experiment, you are ordered to inform me immediately . Do you understand, Soldier?"

"Understood, Master."

"It is out of the question for an inexperienced person in this field to lay hands on HYDRA’s pride, as it could lead the organization to its downfall."

The Soldier nodded, assuming a military stance, then left Commander Strucker's office.

The Soldier’s heart was pounding in his chest, hearing Strucker’s words repeatedly in his head. Perhaps the Baron was a danger in the Commander's eyes, but the most dangerous of the two was ultimately the young master. He was the most capable of bringing the organization to its knees by laying hands on HYDRA's pride.

His mind wandered again to that night shared with the young master a few days earlier, which awakened a pleasant warmth in his chest and stomach. 

He eagerly anticipated returning home that night to see him. They’d had very few opportunities to be together since, between the young master’s classes and duties and the Soldier’s missions in Novi Grad or when he had to be absent for two full days to escort the Baron to another HYDRA base further south in the country.

The Soldier walked at a measured pace through the dark corridors of the fortress, his thoughts focused on the young master. Each mission further distanced their moments of closeness, but the mere thought of seeing him again was enough to lighten his heart.

Upon reaching his quarters, the Soldier allowed himself a moment of relaxation. He sat on his bed, staring into space, his thoughts drifting, then removed his mask to breathe more freely, even though the room's air was damp and smelled of mold.

He looked up at the small mirror hanging on the wall and saw his reflection. It was always strange to linger on his image, but he recalled the younger one's words telling him he found him beautiful, amazing, incredible…

Maybe the young Zemo really liked him; it wasn't just a way of speech to please the Soldier.

He felt a warm sensation in his chest at the thought that, yes, he might not be so physically terrible after all.

The door suddenly burst open, interrupting his thoughts. A HYDRA agent stood there, out of breath and visibly agitated.

"Soldier," he said hastily before realizing he was alone with the infamous Winter Soldier, a sudden anxiety twisting his gut as he met the other’s icy gaze. "C-Commander Strucker needs you immediately." The Soldier’s piercing stare prompted the agent to add more context, awkwardly. "S-Something urgent."

The Soldier rose instantly, reattaching his mask with his characteristic agility, and followed the man without a word. On the way to the Commander’s office, he couldn't help but wonder what could be so pressing.

When he arrived, he found Strucker in the midst of a discussion with several scientists and high-ranking agents. The atmosphere was tense.

"Soldier, we have a critical situation," Strucker declared without preamble. "An experimental subject has escaped and attacked Dr. Hale. He’s become uncontrollable."

The Soldier remained silent, his thoughts immediately focusing on the upcoming mission.

"We need you to secure the area and neutralize the subject," Strucker continued. "Act quickly and precisely. The laboratory is already in chaos."

The Soldier nodded, accepting the mission without hesitation. He knew that protecting HYDRA and its secrets was crucial, even if lately his thoughts had been distracted by other ambitions. The thought of the consequences of a rogue subject motivated him even more. He didn’t want another super-soldier in the wild who could jeopardize his existence or usefulness. Or worse, harm the young master.

Upon reaching the scene, he found the laboratory in shambles. Equipment was overturned, and shards of glass littered the floor. Dr. Hale, injured but conscious, was receiving emergency care from another agent.

The experimental subject, a towering man with bulging muscles and eyes filled with rage, stood at the back of the lab, cornered by four agents armed with electric batons and guns. But upon seeing the Soldier enter, the individual roared with anger, likely recognizing the one who had brought him into this hell. With a broad sweep of his arm, the subject sent the four men flying across the room before fleeing toward a side door.

The Soldier didn’t hesitate for a second and gave chase.

The subject, enhanced by the serum, possessed superhuman strength. He grabbed a metal cart and hurled it at the Soldier, who narrowly dodged it with a roll. Quickly getting back on his feet, the Soldier prepared for the confrontation. The subject charged, his massive fists aiming for the Soldier’s head. The Soldier blocked the first blow with his metal arm, the impact resonating through the room and his whole body.

The Soldier counterattacked immediately with a series of rapid, precise strikes, targeting the subject's weak points. But the man seemed almost impervious to pain. He grabbed the Soldier by the throat and lifted him off the ground, his fingers tightening like a vise. The Soldier, choking, used his metal arm to strike violently at his opponent’s throat, forcing him to let go.

Landing on his feet, the Soldier took advantage of the moment of confusion to reposition himself. He pulled a combat knife from his belt and launched himself at the subject again. The knife sank into the man’s shoulder, eliciting a scream of pain, but he continued to fight with frenzied energy. The subject grabbed the Soldier’s arm, trying to immobilize him, but the Soldier used his leg to kick the man’s knee, throwing him off balance.

The battle continued in a violent, rapid dance. Every blow was calculated, every move precise. The Soldier knew he had to be faster, smarter than his opponent to survive. He feigned an attack with his knife, forcing the subject to defend, then struck violently with his metal arm instead, sending the man staggering backward.

Furious, the subject grabbed a metal tube and used it as an improvised weapon, swinging it at the Soldier with brutal force. The Soldier dodged the first blows, but one managed to hit his thigh, drawing a grunt of pain. Ignoring the pain, he retaliated by grabbing the tube and wrenching it from the subject’s hands before using it against him, striking his temple with surgical precision.

The subject staggered, his vision blurring, and the Soldier knew it was now or never. But blindly, the subject grabbed his injured leg and pulled him down, then sent him flying across the room by his ankle with a broad sweep. The Soldier landed as best he could on the debris-strewn floor, trying to protect his face to avoid losing an eye. He got up immediately, his breathing ragged, before charging across the room and leaping onto the man, wrapping his legs around the rogue man’s neck. He used all his strength to strangle the man with his thighs in a triangle choke, the subject clawing at him in an attempt to break free from the Soldier’s powerful grip that was beginning to obscure his vision.

With a powerful metallic elbow to the head, the Soldier disoriented the subject enough to make him lose balance, and he took the opportunity to flip backward, head down, hands on the ground, and threw the man over with his legs. Face down, the subject struggled to get up, but the Soldier, already on his feet, pinned him to the ground with his full weight to subdue him.

He quickly turned his head to the right, seeing a scientist paralyzed with fear in his line of sight, holding a syringe. The scientist's eyes widened as the Winter Soldier shot him a deadly glare, then a flash of clarity crossed his mind as he clumsily handed the syringe to the Soldier.

In a fluid motion, he grabbed the syringe, likely containing a tranquilizer, and injected it directly into the man's neck.

" Je mi to ľúto, nemám na výber... I'm sorry, I have no choice... " the Soldier whispered to the subject, speaking in Sokovian in hopes that he would understand.

The subject convulsed one last time before all his muscles relaxed, unconscious. The Soldier stood up, breathless but victorious. He knew the tranquilizer wouldn’t be enough to keep him asleep indefinitely. They had to act fast.

Grabbing the subject’s limp body, he dragged him out of the lab and down the corridor, using all his strength to maintain a firm grip. He finally reached Hale's office, where she had taken shelter, with Strucker next to her. He dropped the body at the Commander's feet with a thud, breathless.

"Mission accomplished, Master," he declared firmly, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand, the shards of glass and sharp objects having taken their toll in the fight.

Strucker nodded, his face a mix of relief and gravity as he looked at the subject with disappointment.

"Well done, Soldier. But this shows how unstable our experiments still are. We must be even more vigilant."

The Soldier nodded, knowing the road ahead would be long and fraught with obstacles. He watched armed guards enter and cuff the subject, taking advantage of his unconscious state, before hauling him off to a cell. The Soldier watched the subject being dragged away like an animal, a sudden headache pounding at his temples.

Strucker glanced at him and nodded, giving him permission to leave, and the Soldier left the room, limping.

Chapter Text

He saw the maintenance and cleaning technicians immediately bustling about in the ravaged laboratory, with the present scientists trying to save what they could. The Soldier ignored the stares that followed him as he limped along the corridors back to his quarters. The fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders, but the thought of seeing the young master again spurred him on.

Back in his quarters, he hurriedly undressed to take a shower. He couldn't present himself at the Manor in this state. He was covered in blood and debris, and it was clear he looked injured. The young master would be furious…

He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the grime and blood. The top of his face was scratched, and he winced as pain shot through his leg when he shifted his weight on it. A large bruise had formed near his right knee, a rare sight on his body after a simple impact. But it wasn't a simple impact; the subject had superhuman strength similar to his own, and the metal bar he used as a weapon, combined with his power, hadn't spared him.

He finished his shower and walked back into the room to get dressed but froze in front of the mirror upon seeing the finger marks around his throat. It was at that moment the Soldier realized that the man could very well have broken his neck.

He slowly raised his right hand and, while watching himself in the mirror, traced the strangulation marks with his fingers. He winced. It was painful and sensitive. He didn't know how he would explain all this to the young master without him flying into a rage. But he had no choice; the subject had to be neutralized. He was too dangerous to be let loose.

He briefly thought about Doctor Hale, wondering if her injuries were severe. For the first time, he hoped she had been killed by the subject's attack so she couldn't continue this infernal project that endangered civilians and innocents.

He frowned, continuing to stare at himself in the mirror. Was he innocent too? Or was he like the other soldiers used in the Winter Soldiers program ? Malicious, without empathy or morality...?

Who was he before…?

Who was locked deep within the Soldier's mind…?

He pulled himself together, taking a deep breath. The young master understood him better than he understood himself. He said the Soldier was a good man, with a heart, so it had to be true.

He put his uniform back on after cleaning it and opened the door to leave his quarters, but something in the mirror caught his eye again. He approached it, his mask once more covering the lower part of his face. He looked like the Winter Soldier, no doubt, but… it was as if his eyes were trying to make him see beyond the mask, beyond the emptiness, beyond HYDRA's conditioning.

He inhaled deeply, staring at the mirror.

" My name is… " he moved closer, examining his reflection, his eyes, his face in detail. " My name is… "

"Buckingham Palace!"

The Soldier jumped violently, grabbing his knife from his thigh and pointing it towards the entrance where he saw Rumlow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Rumlow said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "It's just me! I was just saying your quarters are really fitting for you," he laughed ironically, clearly amused by his own joke. "My place is way better stocked than yours; looks like they put you in the kennel," he continued to chuckle. "I'm sure the kennels at Buckingham Palace are nicer than this place!" But the Soldier was rigid with adrenaline and not at all amused by Rumlow's comments. "Okay, okay, sorry, I should have knocked," he knocked on the open door, "Is this better? It's me, Rumlow. Can I come in?"

The Soldier took a deep breath, lowering his knife and adopting a less combative stance.

"No."

Rumlow burst into laughter, not expecting the Soldier to respond, especially not negatively.

"No..?" He slowly closed the door, his eyes locked onto the Soldier's cold gaze. "I didn't know you knew that word." He made a face as he approached him, but the Soldier raised his knife again, ready for combat. "Ha…" Rumlow stopped and observed the Soldier. "We're on the same team, Soldier. Why so much hostility all of a sudden? I thought we could be friends, you and I…"

The Soldier remained silent. Indeed, Rumlow was part of HYDRA, serving the same people, the same causes and objectives, even though the Soldier felt increasingly detached from it all lately. But he could sense something dangerous about the young man in front of him, something that made him wary.

"Is it true what they say about you?" Rumlow's gaze wandered around the room, settling on various objects, and he picked up a bottle of gun oil from the desk. "That you were also American, like me, and that you fought like hell to resist HYDRA at the beginning?" He looked back at the Soldier. "That you escaped several times before they finally managed to keep you on a leash?"

The Soldier lowered his weapon, his eyes wide, feeling his entire body frozen but trembling inside. 

Was it true..?

"I heard you screamed for weeks when they tried to graft that arm onto your body…" Rumlow had moved closer, and gently, he took the Soldier's hand that held the knife, prying each finger off the handle to remove the weapon. "The man in you refused to die…" He smiled, leaning in to whisper in the Soldier's ear, his shoulder pressed against his. "But in the end… when you had completely forgotten your identity, you had only one name on your lips, barely murmuring it in your cell, in your pain, not even knowing who it belonged to…" The Soldier was petrified, his breathing growing more rapid. " Steve… Steve… Steve… "

The Soldier wanted to scream, but his vocal cords wouldn't work. He was completely paralyzed without knowing why, and his eyes were filled with tears.

Rumlow wrapped his fingers around the Soldier's flesh bicep firmly, seeing the effect it had on him.

" But who is this Steve…? " He feigned a deep sadness in his voice. "He must have been really important to you…" He resumed his mocking tone, whispering in the Soldier's ear. " Because even though you had completely forgotten who you were, you kept saying that name without even knowing why… "

The Soldier shut his eyes tightly, trying to dispel the panic that was gripping his insides, but a cold sweat ran down his spine as he felt a sudden terror deep within. He suddenly felt trapped in his own body, as if this body wasn't his, his left arm feeling too heavy, the junction between metal and flesh burning painfully.

"Poor… poor little Soldier…" Rumlow pulled back slightly, his face now in front of the Soldier's, whose eyes were painfully closed. He lifted a hand to caress the mask along the Soldier's cheek. " Shh… You must be so tired of all this… " He watched as the Soldier reopened his eyes, an infinite distress in those icy orbs. " Fighting to remember who you were… fighting for HYDRA who uses you as a soulless weapon… fighting against these raging emotions when a light appears at the end of the tunnel… " He moved closer, pressing his front body against the Soldier's and grasping his face with two fingers to lock their gazes. "I could comfort you… ease your pain and distress… I could remind you what it means to be human… to be a man…"

Rumlow pressed his lips to the Soldier's mask, and like a whip crack, the Soldier's eyes flew open, and he grabbed the American by the throat with his metal hand.

"Fu-Argh..!"

The Soldier lifted him with his left arm, a sudden fury igniting his blue gaze. Rumlow clung to his wrist, desperately trying to make him let go, but the Soldier slammed him against the wall behind him, leaning in close, his face mere centimeters away, his eyes gleaming with frenzy.

“ Предатель. Traitor.” He slammed him against the wall again. “ Я должен тебя убить. I must kill you.”

“S-stop! Stop..! I-I'm sorry..! I-I argh..!”

He released him, and Rumlow fell pathetically to the floor, coughing loudly and instinctively clutching his throat. He looked up at the Soldier, who gazed down at him from his full height, anger shining like white-hot iron in his eyes.

"Hail HYDRA."

The Soldier left his quarters, leaving Rumlow behind. He was trembling inside, his eyes now shining with emotions, but mostly because of the terror he had felt after what had just happened. Everything Rumlow had said echoed within him, terrifying him because it meant he was telling the truth. His breath came in short gasps behind his mask as he made his way to the courtyard where his motorcycle was parked, limping slightly due to his knee. He had to get back to the young master. He needed him so much at that moment; it couldn't wait.

When he arrived at the Manor, he quietly entered the small room where the young master spent most of his nights studying. The room was lit by a desk lamp, casting a soft light over the books and notes scattered everywhere. The young master, engrossed in his research, looked up when he heard the door open. A smile lit up his face when he saw the Soldier enter.

"You're finally back," said the young master, standing up and abandoning his writings to go to him. But he slowed down when he saw the troubled look in the Soldier's eyes. "Is… everything okay?"

"Things…” he cleared his throat to find his voice. “Things got a bit complicated today…” He didn't know where to start, between the Baron's reaction, the confrontation with the experimental subject, and Rumlow turning his mind upside down. “But I'm here now…”

He said it more to reassure himself than to be factual. But the young master drew him close, wrapping his arms around his neck, locking eyes with him.

"I always worry when you go on missions. I'm afraid something might happen to you."

The Soldier placed a reassuring hand on the young master's cheek, losing himself in the younger man's hazel eyes.

“I came back safe and sound. And I intend to stay close to you tonight."

Steve… Steve… Steve…

The Soldier closed his eyes, still hearing Rumlow's plaintive voice uttering that name like a litany in his ear.

You kept saying that name without even knowing why…

The younger man understood that something was wrong and stepped back slightly to face him, frowning.

“What happened?”

“Nothing that warrants your concern…”

“Солдат.”

The Soldier took a deep breath, then frowned. Did he just lie..? 

Helmut held his gaze, unwavering. He needed to know what was going on in his lover's mind if he wanted to help him.

“I…” the Soldier's throat suddenly tightened. “A lot of things…” he shook his head

“Wait,” said the young master, stepping back to grab his notes and turn off the light. “Not here, let's go to my room.”

The Soldier nodded and followed the young master out of the room and into his bedroom. Once away from prying eyes and ears, the young master locked the door and placed his things on the table nearby before approaching the Soldier again. He raised his left hand to the Soldier's face to remove the mask, but the latter suddenly grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Helmut felt the grip was a bit too firm, but he held back a wince, not wanting to alarm the Soldier, who was visibly already in a state of distress.

"It's just me, Солдат…" Helmut said, trying to break through the Soldier's seemingly shaken consciousness. "Will you let me take off your mask?"

The Soldier locked eyes with the young master, then slowly nodded before releasing his wrist and looking away.

“ Мне жаль… I am sorry...”

Helmut frowned, surprised that the Soldier was asking for forgiveness, especially in Russian. It was unusual for him to respond in that language, and the younger man began to sincerely worry about the Soldier's mental state.

He gently guided him to sit on the edge of the bed while he knelt on the floor between the Soldier's knees. He wanted to show him that he was not in a position of submission here, not with young Zemo. His stomach twisted at the thought that something serious had happened at the fortress, something that had deeply disturbed his Soldier.

“ Ты знаешь, кто я ? Do you know who I am ?” the younger man asked, wondering if the Soldier remembered him. The Soldier slowly nodded, his eyes fixed on Helmut’s.

"Helmut Zemo."

It was the first time the Soldier had said his first name, and it sounded strange to his ears. Not unpleasant, but there was a detachment in the Soldier’s voice that made it seem as if this identity meant nothing.

“ Кто я для тебя..? What am I to you..?” Helmut asked, his voice trembling, fearing what the Soldier might say.

“ Вы для меня… всё… You are... everything to me...” the Soldier replied, actually confessing to him.

Helmut sighed with relief, closing his eyes and then smiling at the significance of those words. He reopened his eyes, reaching his hand to the Soldier's face, and gently unfastened the mask. This time, the Soldier let him, closing his eyes as he appreciated the gesture that freed him from this muzzle. The younger man placed the mask beside the Soldier and looked at him again.

"You are safe here, with me, moj láska my love," murmured Helmut, tenderly caressing the Soldier's cheek. He felt his heart pounding at the sound of the endearing term, watching the Soldier's reaction carefully. "You have nothing to fear..."

The Soldier leaned into the caress, bending forward until his forehead rested on the young master's shoulder. The " my love " spoken by the younger man pierced him, and his throat tightened with emotion. No one had ever called him that, and the feeling was both painful and redemptive.

Helmut felt a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness seeing the Soldier so vulnerable. He wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He turned slightly to place several delicate kisses on his cheek and temple before tightening his embrace.

“ What’s wrong, Солда т?” Helmut asked softly, his fingers sliding through the other’s hair.

“I-I…” The Soldier sighed with pleasure at the young master's attentions, closing his eyes, almost purring in his arms. “I had to fight tonight…”

“Why?” Helmut continued to stroke the Soldier's hair, encouraging him to talk.

“One of the experimental subjects attacked Doctor Hale... and I had to intervene to neutralize him...” He took a deep breath. “He was as strong as me, but... he was mostly terrified, enraged, in pain...”

Helmut listened attentively, his caresses remaining constant to encourage the Soldier to continue. He sensed the pain and guilt in his voice, which worried him even more.

“What happened next?” he asked gently.

“He... was forced to be there... They experiment on him, they... torture him...” The Soldier's fingers tightened on the young master's clothes. “And I... I stopped him from escaping... from freeing himself from that hell... the hell I brought him into.”

Helmut felt a lump forming in his throat upon hearing these words. He knew the Soldier was suffering from his own guilt and that these actions might echo a painful past he didn’t remember. He tightened his embrace, trying to comfort him.

“You seem very affected by this man's fate…” Helmut murmured, seeking to understand what troubled the Soldier so deeply, hoping he could express something that would help him move forward.

“Because I was like him…” the Soldier replied, finally lifting his head to lock eyes with the young master, a storm of emotions shining in his gaze.

Helmut's heart ached seeing the pain and vulnerability in the Soldier's eyes. He encouraged him to continue, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“An agent… told me some things about myself tonight…” The Soldier seemed hesitant, searching for words. “I don’t remember, but… I know it’s true because… I…” He swallowed hard. “I felt it in my gut…”

“What did he tell you?” Helmut asked, sensing the importance of what the Soldier was about to say and very curious to discover part of the Soldier's past, even if he expected it to be ugly.

“That I was like the man I fought tonight.” The pain was audible in his voice and visible in his eyes. “I was abducted, tortured, I fought, I tried to escape, but they brought me back by force. I was reduced to nothing so they could use me… to the point of forgetting who I really am to serve them and…” his voice broke. “ And to become a tormentor myself, perpetuating the cycle. ”

Helmut felt a deep sadness mixed with a deep, simmering anger hearing these revelations. He held the Soldier tighter in his arms, trying to convey all the support and love he could.

" You are not a tormentor, Солда т," he murmured firmly. "They made you into something you are not." He anchored his hazel eyes into the Soldier’s blue ones. "I have conducted my own research, digging through my father’s things, and…" He licked his lips, thinking. "Yes, it's... horrible what they put you through…" He stood up only to immediately sit on the Soldier’s lap, straddling him and taking his head in his hands, lifting it slightly so they could look at each other. "Tomorrow, I will tell you everything I know..."

The Soldier instinctively placed his hands on the younger man's hips, lost in the ocean of the young master's hazel eyes. Helmut gave a sad smile but brought his face closer to his, sealing their lips together. A powerful relief washed over them at the contact, and the younger man sighed against the Soldier’s lips.

In a desperate need for comfort, the Soldier responded to the kiss by gently capturing Helmut’s lips between his own, then slipping his tongue to meet his.

Helmut felt a powerful surge of adrenaline, the sensation, the proximity, and the position he was in left him far from indifferent.

But not tonight.

He took a deep breath and broke the kiss reluctantly, resting his forehead against the Soldier’s, his hands still cupping his face.

"You need rest…"

"I need you…"

"I'm not going anywhere, moj láska my love…" he said, looking into his eyes again. "Tonight, I want you to rest with me… to recover…" He tenderly caressed his face, tracing his features with his fingertips. "Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, master..." the Soldier said, closing his eyes, letting the young master's feather-light touch soothe him.

"Good..."

Helmut kissed him again in a chaste kiss before climbing off his lap. He helped the Soldier remove his clothes and froze when he saw the finger marks around the Soldier’s neck and the large bruise near his right knee. He looked up at the Soldier with panicked eyes, but the latter gently took his chin to anchor their eyes together.

"It's okay…"

Helmut felt a wave of calm wash over him. The Soldier was there, vulnerable, trying to reassure him.

He took a breath and nodded, accepting that the Soldier was capable of judging if his life was in danger or not.

They lay down on the bed together, the young master opening one arm to let the Soldier slide against him. It was his role to comfort him tonight, after everything the Soldier had been through during the day.

Tomorrow would be another challenging day, but his life was never smooth sailing anyway. So tonight, it was a moment of respite, for both of them, to simply savor each other's presence in a bubble of kindness and respect.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the Soldier and the young master went to the far end of the property to discuss matters privately in the gardener's cottage, which was unoccupied at this time of year.

The Soldier entered the small house first, ensuring that the place was secure, both for the master and regarding the subjects that were to be discussed. His movements were slowed by fatigue and the pain from the previous day's confrontation, though they were less intense that day.

A cold light filtered through the small windows, and the air, still crisp from winter, imbued the space with a silent atmosphere, accentuated by the crackling fire that the young master had hastily lit in the stove for some warmth.

Young Zemo knew they had nothing to fear here. For years, during the winters, the gardener's cottage had been his favorite hiding place. Especially when he needed to take refuge there after his mother's death.

Difficult memories came back to him at the thought, but he shook them off. That was not the issue today.

He cleared the table of the few objects present and spread out papers that looked like copies of reports and notes, made by his father, as well as his own, more recent ones. A notebook and copies of photos were scattered around as well.

The Soldier's eyes scanned the documents with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He was so eager to learn the truth, but at the same time, this revelation terrified him. He knew it would drastically change his perception of things, and especially of himself.

Helmut gave him a tender smile and a warm look, aware of the weight of the revelations that awaited them.

"I really want you to know that... the research I’ve conducted is not meant to harm you, okay?" Helmut said, adjusting the papers on the table. "It’s about discovering who you are, and why or how HYDRA was able to shape you like this."

The Soldier sat down, his gaze fixed on the documents, his heart pounding with apprehension. Helmut began to review the papers, each having the power to reopen old wounds.

"Here’s a report on the Winter Soldier program," Helmut began, showing a black and white photo of a small man in his fifties, with thinning hair and small round glasses. "If I understand correctly, this man is named Arnim Zola." He took the report between his fingers to read. "He was recruited in 1934 by Schmidt to become HYDRA's lead scientist during World War II and a bit afterward. He is said to be behind the initial experiments with the super soldier serum in Europe. Of all the experiments he conducted, there was only one that worked…"

He looked up at the Soldier, trying to convey that it was about him, but what he saw struck him violently and took his breath away. He quickly moved the photo out of the Soldier's view, seeing the panic shining in his eyes.

A wave of terror had seized the Soldier the moment his eyes landed on the photo. A muffled, uncontrollable, and devastating panic rose within him. He clenched his fists, the nails of his right hand digging painfully into his palm, and a buzzing emanated from his clenched metal fist as well.

Sensations related to buried emotions, blurred and fragmented, began to surface. He remembered the pain. An unbearable, crushing pain, as if every fiber of his being was being torn apart. Muffled cries, his own, echoed in his mind. He recalled the blinding light of the spotlights in a dark room, the acrid smell of disinfectant, but also the dampness, the mold, the sickness… And that voice. That calm and methodical voice speaking in German, cruelly contrasting with the suffering it inflicted, both physically and psychologically. He tried to understand the words, but despite his knowledge of the language today, he was unable to decipher their meaning, as if his brain had only recorded gibberish.

Fear turned into pure terror, a bottomless pit that seemed to swallow him. He felt as if he were suffocating, drowning in emotions so violent they threatened to overwhelm him completely. He looked up at the young master, his pupils dilated with fear.

He felt chained, defenseless, enduring unimaginable and unreal tortures. He didn’t remember it, but apparently, his body and subconscious did, remembering every second. His screams still echoed in his mind like an endless echo. Zola’s voice, detached and clinical, asked him questions, noted observations, treated him like a mere study subject, an animal.

“ Солдат.”

Helmut tried to pull him out of his stupor by gently approaching him, attempting to bring him back to reality, but the Soldier struggled to return to the present. Every fiber of his being was soaked with that old terror, that indescribable pain.  

He clenched his fists so tightly that the knuckles of his right hand turned white. The cold metal of the torture instruments, the harsh light of the spotlights, all returned with a terrifying clarity, though the specific memories eluded him. They were only sensations, raw emotions, but they were powerful enough to overwhelm him.

“ Sergeant… Three… Two… Five… Five… Seven… ” he gasped, struggling to breathe. “ Sergeant… T-Three… Two… F-Five… Five… Seven… ”

Helmut felt his breath catch painfully as he realized that the Soldier was trapped in a wave of post-traumatic stress disorder. He raised his hands to grasp the Soldier's face and forced him to meet his gaze.

“ Солдат..! ”

The Soldier closed his eyes, trying to push back the waves of panic that overwhelmed him. The emotions were too intense, too violent. He felt as if he were back there, defenseless, broken and dehumanized by that man. The memories of torture, though incomplete, were powerful enough to haunt him.

“H-He made… me… a monster…” he finally managed to articulate. “H-He broke me..!”

“You’re not a monster…” Helmut pressed his forehead against the Soldier’s. “You’re a victim trying to rebuild yourself… And you’re incredibly brave…”

The Soldier remained silent for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the table, trying to catch his breath. The terror that had overwhelmed him was still present, but the soothing words of the young master had begun to pierce through the veil of panic clouding his mind.  

Helmut stepped back slightly, leaving his hand resting on the Soldier's shoulder to reassure him. He understood that the revelations would be hard to digest, but he hoped that knowing the truth would help the Soldier rebuild himself.

“I… I’m going to proceed, but if it gets too hard, let me know ,” he murmured. The Soldier nodded, unable to say anything. “But… I have a question before we continue.” The Soldier’s full attention was on him, his eyes locked onto his. “You mentioned the word Sergeant , then the numbers three, two, five, five, seven … Do you know what that means?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Could it be an identification number?”

The Soldier frowned, thinking before his eyes widened, an idea crossing his mind as he remembered Rumlow's words.

“The HYDRA agent told me yesterday that I was American..!”

Helmut’s eyes widened as well, and he gave the Soldier a broad smile. It suddenly made sense.  

If Arnim Zola had started working for HYDRA in 1934, and the only successful experiment was the Winter Soldier, a program that took place during World War II, then the Soldier must be over 80 years old, adding up his physical age today and the time between the program and now.  

And since the program started in 1943, it meant that, indeed, the United States were in Europe during that period.

“Yes, it’s not impossible that you’re American; the timeline matches Zola’s experiment with the Winter Soldier program of that time. And given your appearance, with the cryostasis you’ve undergone, your aging has been slowed.” He paused, hands flat on the table, thinking and calculating. “That means you’re around eighty, so… probably born in 1915 or thereabouts…”

The Soldier was impressed by the younger man’s quick reasoning, his ability to calculate so rapidly, to make logical connections between the given information and historical events, both public and HYDRA’s.  

He knew that the young master could help him, but this was proof. A warmth spread in his chest at the hope awakening within him.  

He knew that thanks to this man, one day, he would be free.

"You might have been a Sergeant, Солдат. And the numbers might correspond to your identity..." He quickly wrote the numbers 3-2-5-5-7 on a piece of paper. "But obviously, the number isn’t complete... I would need to look into the records of American soldiers who died or went missing in 1943, who were sergeants and had an identification number starting with these five digits..." He suddenly looked at the Soldier with a smile. "It won’t be easy, but I might discover your true identity!" He smiled more tenderly this time. "Your real first name..."

The Soldier was deeply moved by these prospects and the young master’s devotion to him. It had always been him who had to show devotion and loyalty, certainly not others towards him. Apart from being a weapon, a tool, he was nothing.  

At least, not in Helmut Zemo’s eyes.  

And that was suddenly the most important thing to him.  

Helmut resumed looking through the documents, searching for other elements that might help the Soldier, some information about missions related to more or less known targets, others more varied...

"I... I remember some of these missions," the Soldier murmured, looking at the photos and some reports. "But not everything... just fragments."  

"That’s normal," replied the younger man gently. "They use an electroshock treatment to erase your memories after each mission." The Soldier knew that. His mind had to be blank before each mission to carry it out successfully, and to be most receptive to activation words. "They use some sort of electric chair to wipe you each time..."  

"And to punish me..."

The Soldier closed his eyes, recalling the screams, the intense pain of electricity coursing through his body, the despair that consumed him every time he lost a part of himself.

"The pain... the pain is unbearable... They strap me down, and I can do nothing to stop it. Each time, it’s like dying a little more."

Helmut took a deep breath, feeling his stomach churn as he looked at the wiping device on the photo. Knowing that the Soldier was suffering from it made him want to vomit, and a furious urge to kill gripped his insides and burned through his veins. He wanted to destroy that chair.

"As you’ve already mentioned, there are those trigger words, but they are written nowhere."  

"Only the handler has them." The younger man looked up at him. "It ensures that I only respond to his orders, that I am loyal to him... That he... That he represents everything to me."

Helmut stared into his eyes, a feeling of jealousy tightening his heart as he realized. Someone already possessed the Soldier's heart and mind. And it was almost certainly a vile, brutal, cruel, and abusive man.

"Does that... mean that... if this man asked you to kill me, you would do it...?"

The Soldier gritted his teeth as he felt his stomach twist and his head throb painfully. He absolutely did not want Karpov to give him that order. He would be willing to forget the young master to prevent him from losing his life. But if his handler asked him to kill him…

He swallowed painfully, feeling tears welling up.

"I... I have never been so... free from obligations and orders before..." His voice faltered. "Maybe... maybe I could... resist..."  

"Or maybe not..."

"I don't want to..." the Soldier said  with a voice filled with sadness, his eyes welling with tears, his voice breaking. " I don’t want to.. ."  

"Unfortunately, it’s not up to you to decide..." He gave him a sad smile before moving closer and gently standing on tiptoe to kiss him lightly, then resting his forehead against his. "You never had a say, moj láska my love, and I’m terribly sorry for that..." 

"I... I don’t want it to come to that..."  

"Let's keep a low profile then, and we won’t have to resort to such extremes..." He smiled as he gently pulled back to gaze into his eyes. "But if it comes to that, know that I won’t stand by. It will be my turn to give you a hard time." 

"Master..."   

"Alright, sorry... That wasn’t funny, excuse me..." He held him in his arms, tenderly caressing the back of his head to reassure him. "For now, we are together, and that’s what we need to focus on."

The Soldier wrapped his arms around the young master’s waist, sighing with pleasure at feeling him against him.

"Anyway, one day you will be freed from all this, I promise you... Logically and statistically speaking, it cannot last forever..."

Even though, in reality, the Soldier had been living this hell for nearly fifty-five years. Which was incredibly long for an ordinary human life.  

The Soldier nodded, his eyes moist. He wished so much to remember who he was and to live a new life with the young master.  

"Master..." He gave a subtle smile and lifted his head to look at him. "I would have... loved for you to know the trigger words... So that you could be my handler..." 

"That would be cruel, and you know it..." but he looked at him with a smile. "But I am deeply touched that you feel that way. It’s proof that... you care about me, that you would like us to be bound by a connection you know to be unshakable..." He smiled playfully this time. "Who knows," he said, tilting his head, "maybe one day I’ll learn them and use them so that you belong to me, and fight by my side to bring down HYDRA..."

The idea was strangely exhilarating to Helmut, but he did not realize how deeply the Soldier yearned inside at the thought of possibly belonging to him one day. Even if he would still be enslaved by the trigger words, at least he would be with the young master.

"You really seem to like this idea, right…?" The Soldier nodded quickly, and Helmut pressed his body against his, cupping his face. "You would like me to be in your head... to maybe give you directives..."  

"You... are already in my head..."

Helmut ran his tongue between his lips, considering whether he should indulge his curiosity by slipping a small order that might quench it and emotionally relieve the Soldier by taking the reins in his stead, or if he should truly refrain from such behavior, the Soldier not actually wanting to be directed, which was the conditioning speaking for him.  

In any case, he did not need to manipulate the Soldier to make them both happy. This relationship was genuine, not artificial.  

Helmut wrapped his arms around the Soldier’s neck and kissed him, breathing a sigh of relief at the contact and feeling him respond. The Soldier slid his tongue into his mouth, sighing against his lips while gently tightening his embrace around his waist.  

Helmut broke the kiss for a moment to breathe, reopening his eyes to meet the Soldier’s gaze.  

" Kurva..! Shit..! "

Helmut jumped and pulled away abruptly from the Soldier upon seeing a shadow pass in front of one of the windows.  

Someone had seen them.

Chapter Text

Helmut and the Soldier froze, their hearts racing, as the fleeting shadow disappeared behind the gardener’s cottage window. Panic surged within them, quick and corrosive.

They rushed out of the cottage, their movements tense and swift in the fresh snow. Outside, the world was eerily quiet, with pristine snow covering the ground and making every footprint clearly visible. Helmut scanned the ground with growing anxiety. Clear tracks led directly toward the Manor, but apart from those prints, there was no one in sight.

“We need to get back to the Manor,” Helmut said, trying to mask the anxiety in his voice as he walked quickly toward the house. The Soldier followed, looking worried.

As they returned to the Manor, Helmut’s anxiety grew. He dreaded the consequences of such a situation. The thought of someone having seen them in such an intimate and vulnerable moment was dreadful. His father was unaware of his preferences, and discovering such a truth could not only disappoint him but also cause serious problems for the Soldier. With his influential contacts within HYDRA, his father could harm the Soldier, and the idea of that possibility was unbearable.

Moreover, Helmut feared that information about their discussion on the potential fall of HYDRA might reach Strucker or, worse, the Soldier’s handler, Karpov. Such a betrayal wouldn’t just be frowned upon; it could be fatal.

Inside the Manor, everything seemed in order, as if the world had stopped moving during their brief excursion. Helmut tried to stay calm, searching the Manor’s corners for any signs of suspicion or curiosity. But there was no indication of intrusion or surveillance.

“We should check the guards and staff movements,” Helmut suggested, trying to remain composed.

The Soldier followed him everywhere, scrutinizing each expression on the employees' faces. But despite his efforts, he couldn’t identify any culprit. The lack of satisfactory explanations only heightened their anxiety.

The Soldier appeared deeply disturbed, a muted worry shining in his eyes despite his attempts to conceal it. He felt as though an assailant could pounce on him and his master at any moment, and this fear wasn’t entirely unfounded. Helmut was concerned for both his and the Soldier’s safety, struggling to maintain a detached appearance despite his chaotic thoughts.

Unfortunately, the Soldier was forced to return to Novi Grad that evening, leaving the young master alone with his anxious thoughts, pacing his room and unable to focus on his research. The idea that there might be a spy or traitor under his own roof prevented him from behaving normally and calmly.

Later that evening, after the Soldier had been gone for several hours, the Baron returned from the fortress. He sequestered himself in his office for several hours, immersed in reports and other administrative tasks related to HYDRA.

Anxious, Helmut did everything he could to distract himself, but every noise and shadow seemed to heighten his distress. The fear that his father might know gnawed at him.

But later in the evening, the Baron finally summoned Helmut, his father’s voice echoing in the grand hall, imperious and authoritative.

Helmut went down and entered the Baron’s office, his footsteps echoing heavily on the solid wood floor. The Baron, seated behind his mahogany desk, was absorbed in paperwork, but his gaze lifted as soon as his son crossed the threshold. The Baron’s features were marked by a cold, almost ruthless determination.

“Helmut, come here.”

Helmut approached, each step feeling heavier than the last. He stopped at a respectful distance from the desk, his heart pounding.

“Yes, Father?”

The Baron set down his papers with deliberate slowness, his piercing eyes fixed on his son.

“I’ve received very troubling reports about your… relationship with this Soldier. I want explanations.”

Helmut swallowed, trying to mask his anxiety with a facade of calm.

“What reports, Father?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “I don’t see what could be troubling you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Helmut. You were seen with the Soldier in inappropriate moments.” He swallowed hard, as if bile had risen in his throat. “The witness reported that you were… in intimate embraces, and even more.”

The Baron’s words were like lashes, and Helmut felt his cheeks flush with shame and anger. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady, attempting to salvage the situation.

“They’re just rumors.” He moistened his lips. “I don’t understand how anyone could have seen me doing anything improper with the Soldier. He’s only by my side for my protection. You must be mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken,” he said tersely. “I don’t need further evidence when it comes to our family’s honor.” He stared at his son. “This Soldier is a vile creature, Helmut, a disgrace, and your relationship,” he said with disgust, “with him is degrading to our name.”

The Baron’s tone was icy, and each word was a condemnation. Helmut knew that continuing to deny or lie would lead nowhere and would only worsen his situation and the Soldier’s. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to control his rising anger and trembling voice.

“Father,” he swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. “He’s not what you think. The Soldier is a human being just like you and me, and I simply want to treat him as such. He’s not… a disgrace.”

“A disgrace.” His father let out a sarcastic laugh. “He is far more than that. The Soldier is nothing more than a disgusting plaything, a tool for others to use. And you lower yourself to make advances at him?” He was disgusted. “This is bringing our family to disgrace.”

“You don’t understand. The Soldier is not a tool..! He… he had a life, an identity before becoming what HYDRA made him today. He doesn’t do this out of joy. You cannot judge him so harshly without even trying to understand what he endures..!”

The Baron shook his head. He was utterly bewildered that his son could think he could help this Soldier. He was nothing but an animal, a soulless dog, and there was no question of allowing his son to be the disgrace of his family. It was, at this point, his own son who was bringing shame upon their family.

“I don’t care what he might have been in the past, this individual means nothing to me. He is merely an asset to HYDRA. Your defense is weak and pathetic, Helmut, you shame me.” He clenched his fists on his desk. “The Soldier is a threat to your mental health and a source of shame for our family name.” He grabbed a notebook and pen. “I’ll need to report this to Strucker.” He looked up at his son. “I’ll be lenient. I’ll let you say goodbye to your Soldier.”

Helmut’s heart clenched at the thought of losing the Soldier. This injustice outraged him; he wanted to scream and tear apart the office, but he knew he couldn’t afford to openly contradict his father. He had to try to be more clever, but the emotions were choking him.

“You…” He inhaled shakily. “You can’t do this. He doesn’t deserve to be treated this way, you don’t know anything about what's happening.” He felt he was on the verge of crying. “Y-You can’t do this to me…”

“I don’t need to know all the details, Helmut. What’s clear to me is that this relationship is unacceptable and jeopardizes the integrity of our family.” He began writing the report in the notebook. “You have until tomorrow to sever all ties with the Soldier, or… the consequences will be much worse.”

The Baron stood abruptly, leaving the notebook open on the desk, ending the discussion. His eyes, as hard as stone, left no room for argument.

“I want you to think about what I’ve said. And I want you to show me that you’re still worthy of our name, Helmut.” He looked at his son’s tearful eyes, deeming it the right moment to speak of his plans. “I’ve found you a future wife, from a very respectable family, and quite beautiful. I hope you’ll honor our family by agreeing to meet and marry her.”

Helmut stood frozen, his eyes wide, as if he had just been punched in the stomach. The accusations, the ultimatum, and now this unexpected and brutal revelation about an arranged marriage… It was too much. His mind, already tormented by the threat of losing the Soldier, was overwhelmed by a wave of anger and despair.

“An arranged marriage?”

His voice trembled, not only with rage but also with pain. He tried to hold back the tears that threatened to fall, feeling an intense burn in his chest. How could his father be so insensitive, so blind to his feelings?

“You can’t force me to marry someone I don’t know..! Someone I don’t love..! You… you have no right..!”

“I’m doing what’s necessary to preserve the honor of our family.” The Baron fixed him with an impassive gaze, his eyes as hard as stone. “You’ve lost the right to decide these matters by behaving in such a dishonorable way. You will marry this woman, whether you like it or not. It’s a beneficial alliance for our family, and it’s time you take responsibility when you inherit the title of Baron after me.”

Helmut felt the anger rising within him, bubbling beneath the surface. He clenched his fists, his nails digging painfully into his skin. He felt suffocated, trapped between his father's unreasonable expectations and his own feelings.

"I'm not a pawn you can move around as you please..! This is not honor, it's tyranny!"

The Baron's eyes narrowed in anger, but he remained calm.

"You will do as I say, Helmut. It's for your own good and for the good of our family. Accept it and show that you are worthy of the name you bear. And perhaps I might put in a word with General Karpov to ensure he isn’t too hard on the Soldier."

Helmut felt his knees weaken, but he straightened up, refusing to be cowed. Rage and despair mingled within him, forming an internal storm he struggled to contain. How dare he blackmail him like this?

But he couldn’t argue if the Soldier's life and well-being were at stake. He had no choice.

“Very well.”

Helmut turned away, his face pale, a mix of rage and sadness churning inside him. He left the office, his thoughts troubled by the weight of his father's ultimatums. He headed toward his room, wondering how he would face this ordeal, and especially how he would tell the Soldier that their relationship was compromised. He knew he needed to find a solution, but the pain and anger clouded his thoughts.

He collapsed face down onto his bed, burying his face in the pillows, bursting into tears. He loved the Soldier. He had to act.

He slowly swallowed his sobs, calming his breathing as he lifted his head from the pillows, his brow furrowed, an idea emerging in his mind. He didn’t care about his family name, or the woman his father had planned for him.

He had to help the Soldier; he couldn’t let Strucker or even Karpov reach him after his father’s report.

He got out of bed, sniffed as he wiped his eyes, and tidied his hair. He went to his closet and searched for suitable combat attire that would also protect him from the mid-February cold.

Quickly, he donned his new outfit, preparing a sports bag with essentials for a few days. He didn’t have a clear plan yet, but he knew one thing: he had to act fast.

Once ready, he opened the window, threw the bag outside that landed with a muffled thud in the snow below. He hoisted himself onto the ledge and descended along the facade on the trellis, before slipping a meter from the ground and landing on his own bag with a muffled grunt.

He stood up, brushed the snow off his clothes, and circled the manor to reach the servants' wing. He found the window he was looking for and knocked gently on the glass.

The old man turned his head towards the window and widened his eyes upon recognizing the young master, dressed as if heading on a commando mission. He opened the window and looked at him.

“Master Helmut ?”

“Oeznik, I need your help. You have to take me to Novi Grad.”

Oeznik looked at Helmut with deep concern but had known the young master for a long time and had learned not to ask too many questions when Helmut had that determined look. He nodded and opened the window further to let him in.

“Very well, master Helmut. Give me a few minutes to prepare.”

Helmut nodded, his thoughts still troubled by the urgency of the situation. Oeznik hurriedly gathered a few items and, after ensuring everything was in order, they made their way discreetly to the garage. The house was quiet, with servants either asleep or otherwise occupied, which facilitated their escape.

Once in the garage, Oeznik opened the door of an old black sedan—plain but sturdy, perfect for blending in on the snowy roads.

“Get in, master Helmut. We’re leaving immediately.”

Helmut climbed into the back, his mind racing. He needed to find a way to warn the Soldier and get him out of this mess before his father’s report reached Strucker or Karpov. Oeznik started the car, and soon they were driving on the deserted road leading to Novi Grad.

“Oeznik, I’m sorry for asking this so suddenly, but it’s a matter of life and death. The Soldier is in danger, and I need to warn him before it’s too late.”

Oeznik glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Helmut’s determined gaze.

“I understand, master Helmut. I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

The rest of the drive was marked by tense silence, with Helmut staring at the road, his mind troubled by his father’s ultimatums and the love he felt for the Soldier. When they finally arrived in Novi Grad, the area was like a battlefield. A deathly silence reigned over the streets, despite the occasional gunfire heard in the distance.

Helmut signaled Oeznik to stop in a secluded street, unable to risk drawing attention or going any further.

“Thank you, Oeznik. I’ll finish on foot from here. I’ll contact you if I need you.”

Oeznik nodded, his eyes filled with concern.

“Be careful, master Helmut. May the gods protect you.”

Helmut gave a brief nod before stepping out of the car, taking his bag with him and watching as the vehicle drove away in the opposite direction. He turned towards the ghost town of Novi Grad, took a deep breath, and walked confidently along a deserted avenue in search of the Soldier, one hand clutching his bag and the other tightly gripping the Colt M1911 he had received for his last birthday.

Chapter Text

Helmut moved cautiously through the ruined neighborhoods of Novi Grad. The buildings, once majestic, were now disfigured by battle and abandonment. Broken windows, peeling facades, and debris littering the streets testified to the chaos that had engulfed the city. The few souls still lingering in the area appeared just as battered by the war. He encountered several people, wounded or hiding in collapsed buildings, their faces marked by fear and pain. Their averted gazes only intensified his anxiety. Helmut wondered how he would be able to find the Soldier in this labyrinth of desolation.

After an hour of walking through the devastated landscape, he finally arrived at the train station. The place was partially destroyed, with platforms covered in debris and trains in ruins. Helmut paused for a moment to catch his breath and assess the situation. It was then that a swift movement in his field of vision caught his attention. Before he could react, a man emerged from the shadows, lunging at him with desperate aggression.

The man, with a gaunt and dirty face, carried an old, rusty pistol. He attempted to grab Helmut, but Helmut reacted swiftly. Using his Krav Maga training, Helmut executed a disarmament technique, freeing himself from the assailant’s grip and striking skillfully to neutralize the threat. The man collapsed to the ground, unconscious, without Helmut having to kill him.

Breathing heavily and with his heart racing, Helmut got back on his feet, scanning the surroundings. He was shaken by the attack but had to stay focused. He continued on, heading towards the sound of gunfire that echoed in the distance.

The sounds of war seemed to grow closer as he made his way through the rubble. He crossed a park, an eerie contrast between destruction and the few trees still standing. In the middle of the park, a van was parked, its engine still faintly running.

Helmut approached discreetly, using the shadows for cover. He observed the van from a distance, ready to hide if necessary. His eyes scanned the area for signs of the Soldier or any suspicious activity. The sound of gunfire grew louder, mingling with distant screams and the rumble of engines.

He approached the van cautiously, trying to determine whether it was a rendezvous point or just an abandoned vehicle. His heart tightened at the thought that the Soldier might be nearby, but he had no certainty yet. He surveyed the area, his gaze piercing the darkness surrounding the van.

Suddenly, he heard hurried footsteps and hid behind a tree, ready to act. The tension was palpable as he waited, his senses on high alert.

Helmut crouched deeper behind the tree, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. A group of black-clad soldiers rushed towards the van, looking tense and exhausted. Two of the men were supporting an injured woman, helping her walk with difficulty. Her suffering was evident; she struggled to move, her face contorted with pain. Behind them, another soldier, armed with an assault rifle, was firing at a group of rebels who seemed to be fighting desperately to hold their ground.

“She needs to get into the van!” one of the men shouted, his voice filled with urgency.

The armed man, who must have been covering their retreat, quickly approached the van, out of breath but determined. The woman was carefully helped into the vehicle, each movement causing her to wince in pain. The soldier with the rifle, still firing backwards to push back the attackers, hurried to join them.

“We have to abandon the mission,” the woman said, her voice hoarse and gasping. “We can’t afford to waste more time here.”

The man with the rifle, whom Helmut heard being called Rumlow, protested. “But the Soldier! He needs to come back!”

Upon hearing this name, a wave of hope and terror swept through Helmut. He realized that the Soldier was probably with this group, and that this woman was one of his Harvest team members. His hands trembled as he tried to understand the situation. The woman, still being supported, grimaced as she turned to Rumlow.

“Forget about the Soldier. He’ll manage. I’m losing too much blood; we can’t stay here.”

Rumlow, visibly upset, muttered curses as he climbed into the van. He took one last anxious glance towards the park before slipping inside. The van roared to life, skidding slightly on the snow before speeding quickly out of the city.

Helmut, his heart racing, watched the van until it disappeared into the distance. The urgency and adrenaline gave him a rush as he realized the Soldier was still in the city, perhaps in danger or hiding somewhere. He needed to find him, and quickly. The situation was critical, and every minute counted.

Without wasting any time, Helmut headed in the direction the team had come from, using the shadows to conceal himself and avoid drawing attention. The lifeless bodies of the rebels killed by Rumlow lay on the snowy pavement, and the few survivors had retreated upon seeing the van leave.

He couldn’t stay in the park. The open and shadowy space was ideal for an ambush.

Helmut then moved silently along the buildings, hoping not to attract any attention. He couldn't help the Soldier if he was dead.

He decided to search the immediate area, keeping his ears attuned to the sounds of the city and any signs of the Soldier’s presence. His thoughts revolved around the injured woman with the Russian accent and the team of soldiers, who were undoubtedly HYDRA agents. He knew they were not friends of the Soldier.

You don’t leave a friend behind.

He wondered where the Soldier might be. With each step, he moved closer to where he hoped to find him, while hoping he would arrive in time to save him.

Helmut paused for a moment in front of the imposing collapsed building, where flames crackled amidst the debris. The intense heat from the fires blazing through the broken windows contrasted with the icy night air. The explosion that caused the fire had likely been triggered by a grenade or a homemade bomb, and the scene was still chaotic. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of the Soldier, his heart pounding with every passing moment.

Suddenly, gunshots erupted from the adjacent street. Helmut flinched and darted behind a collapsed wall, a flimsy cover against danger. He peeked cautiously to observe what was happening.

The Soldier was there, clearly in the middle of a fight, battling with superhuman skill. Armed with a rifle, he fired with precision, taking down enemy after enemy who desperately tried to bring him down.

Helmut watched with a mix of awe and horror as the Soldier shot a bullet directly into the head of an attacker aiming at him. But enemies kept flooding in, and despite his impressive skills, the Soldier struggled to handle all the attackers and keep them at bay.

A bullet ricocheted off his metal arm, while another lodged into his thigh with a muted thud, causing him to stagger and drop to one knee in surprise and pain. Yet, despite this, he got back up, a fierce gleam burning in his eyes, and kept eliminating enemies with ruthless efficiency, using every move with calculated precision, alternating between his rifle and a combat knife for those who got too close.

Helmut was terrified for the Soldier’s life but also stunned by the display of power and resilience. Every movement of the Soldier was imbued with inhuman discipline and professionalism, turning the battle into a deadly ballet.

Finally, when the last attacker was down, the Soldier knelt, breathless, trying to remove the bullet from his thigh with a grimace of pain visible in his eyes, the rest of his face hidden behind the mask.

Helmut’s eyes widened as he saw movement in the background and rushed out of his hiding spot, feeling light-headed from the blood and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Солдат !” he shouted, his voice echoing in the surrounding chaos.

The Soldier, startled, looked up quickly, his eyes wide at seeing the young master emerge from the ruins. He couldn’t understand why his master was in such a perilous place; he was supposed to be at the Manor; it could only be an hallucination.

His gaze settled on the younger man striding towards him and, in a fluid and controlled motion, pointing a gun at him. The Soldier froze, thinking the young master was going to shoot him without hesitation.

And without warning, he pulled the trigger.

The Soldier flinched, breathless, but did not fall. He felt no pain, no impact.

He heard a strangled sound right behind him and suddenly turned his head over his shoulder, seeing a man armed with a gun collapse to the ground, dead. He had emerged from the shadow of the building behind him, but the young master’s presence had completely made him drop his guard.

But the young master had just saved his life.

“I…” Helmut began, breathless and trembling slightly. “I think we’re even now…”

The Soldier, understanding what had just happened, rushed towards the younger man with impressive speed, ignoring the wound in his thigh, and caught young Zemo, who felt his legs buckle beneath him.

“Master! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” asked the Soldier, his voice betraying concern.

Helmut, still in shock, slowly lowered his weapon and let his body lean against the Soldier. He was trembling, the adrenaline and confusion clouding his mind.

“No, no, I’m fine…” He took a deep breath. “I… I’ve never… killed anyone before…”

And the experience was as disorienting as it was frightening. His hands shook, and he felt dizzy from what he had just done.

The Soldier, with unusual gentleness, wrapped his arms around the younger man’s shoulders to support him.

“You saved my life, Master…” Helmut looked up at him. “But…”

The Soldier furrowed his brow, trying to remember the first life he had taken and how it had felt, but he could not recall. For him, it had been something he had done all his life, and he felt nothing when he had to kill.

"But I imagine the feeling must be unsettling..." He looked him in the eyes. "You did what was necessary. It was him or me..." The younger man nodded slowly. "We need to find shelter before others find us."

They made their way together to a safer location, away from the flames and debris, into what appeared to be an apartment building. The explosions hadn’t damaged this section of the neighborhood, but the apartments seemed abandoned, the residents having fled the conflict zone.

The night was still full of dangers, but for a moment, the two men found shelter in this apartment, finally able to breathe and appreciate their reunion.

"Your team left without you; I saw them. A woman was injured too."

"Hm." The Soldier simply responded as he took a seat on the sofa next to the young master, glancing at the wound on his thigh through the fabric. "They weren't careful."

"What happened?" Helmut observed the Soldier trying to push his fingers into the wound. "What the hell are you doing ?? Stop that...!" He sharply slapped the Soldier's hand, and the Soldier looked up at him, confused. "You're only going to make the injury worse. Stay still; I should be able to find something to disinfect and a pair of tweezers."

The Soldier watched the young master disappear into the adjacent room. The apartment was not very large, so he knew he would hear him if he kept talking.

"One of the team members tried to abduct an unconscious woman, but... it was a trap." The Soldier recalled the scene. "I think rebels saw our little operation over the past few nights and decided to set an ambush." He paused. "I can't blame them..."

"So instead of just an unarmed woman, you ended up facing a horde of rebels ready to take you down on the spot to prevent you from abducting another innocent civilian, right?"

The Soldier watched the young master return to the dark, cold living room with what looked like a first aid kit.

"Quite certainly." He saw the younger man crouch in front of him. "And Anya was injured in the process."

"She looked pretty bad," Helmut said, nodding. "Take off your pants."

Without saying a word, the Soldier complied, knowing it was an order and also a way for the young master to feel more reassured by making sure the Soldier was okay. Helmut winced as he saw the bullet entry wound in the middle of the Soldier’s left thigh. He took out a bottle of alcohol and some gauze before pouring it over the wound to clean it.

The Soldier gritted his teeth, his mask absent, revealing all his emotions to the younger man.

"So, we’re not likely to leave this place anytime soon..."

"Actually," the Soldier said, taking a deep breath as he saw the tweezers approaching the wound, "I never travel with them, always by motorcycle. It’s still here. We’ll be able to go back with it."

"No, we won’t..."

Helmut winced as he pushed the metal tool into the flesh, struggling against the waves of heat that surged over him. The Soldier didn’t seem to be in pain, but the sight turned Helmut's stomach. The Soldier pursed his lips to avoid showing his pain, but he was unsettled by the young master’s statement.

"My father..." He felt something hard against the tweezers. "Ah." He concentrated to try and grasp it. "My father knows about our relationship, Солдат..."

Distracted, the Soldier let out a gasp of pain as the bullet traveled back through his flesh, the younger man having managed to grab it. Helmut looked at him apologetically before refocusing.

"I don’t know who saw us, but that person clearly went to report to my father." He finally took a breath as he removed the bullet, watching it glistening briefly from the blood. "It’s so small... and yet it did quite a bit of damage."

"Are... we compromised?" He watched the younger man place the bullet and tweezers on the used gauze and then pour more alcohol over the wound. "Hm...!"

"As for HYDRA, no, my father didn’t mention anything about it. He only spoke of our relationship..." He cleaned the wound again with a fresh gauze, then another, folded in several layers, before securing it with a bandage, wrapping the Soldier's thigh. "He will report to Strucker, or even Karpov."

The Soldier's eyes widened, feeling a cold sweat slide down his back, along with the terror seeping into his veins. Strucker mustn't learn that he had strayed from the right path, and neither should Karpov. The Soldier felt a strong bond with the young master, but Karpov remained his handler, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. He didn’t want to see those icy eyes filled with disappointment. But above all, he didn’t want to face punishment.

"He was adamant," Helmut said with a sigh, rising to dispose of the soiled gauze and the bullet in a trash can. "He gave me until tomorrow to say goodbye to you..."

The Soldier tried to stand up to object, but the younger man made him sit back down immediately, reprimanding him with a small click of his tongue. Helmut settled back onto the sofa beside him, and the Soldier watched him before turning to grasp his face in his hands and kiss him deeply, anchoring his gaze into his own.

"I’m not here to say goodbye, Солдат. I’m here to warn you, to stop you from going back to the Fortress, and to run away with you."

The Soldier's eyes widened in surprise. Stunned by the young master's declaration, he stared at him with a mix of disbelief and relief. The idea of fleeing together, away from everything he had known, was as destabilizing as it was appealing. He felt a wave of relief at the thought of leaving behind a life of pain and danger, but the prospect of abandoning everything was intimidating. He knew nothing else but HYDRA. At least, he didn't remember anything else.

Seeing the Soldier's reaction, Helmut offered a reassuring smile.

"We’re going to my grandmother’s. She’s been estranged from my father since he joined HYDRA, following my grandfather's lead. She lives in a quiet place far from the capital, far enough that HYDRA won’t easily find us. Besides, they’ll first think your absence is related to what happened here tonight. As for mine, my father will assume I ran away to defy him. They won’t think of my grandmother in the first place. We’ll be safe there to figure out our next move."

The Soldier, still somewhat in shock, tried to gather his thoughts. It was difficult to conceive of a life outside the one he led, but young Zemo's dedication and the desire to escape the constant pressure were clear in his eyes. The Soldier knew this decision would change everything for him.

"I’m with you, Master..." he finally whispered, his voice filled with a calm but determined resolve.

"Master..." he smiled. "Don’t you want to call me by my first name?"

"That would be disrespectful, and I have a great deal of respect for you..."

Helmut smiled even more, and the two men kissed again, sharing a passionate and emotional embrace. It was a moment of comfort amidst their chaos, a deep connection that gave them the strength to face an uncertain future.

"We shouldn't delay," said Helmut, standing up and helping the Soldier to rise and dress, although he limped slightly due to his injury. "We need to leave now to avoid being found. Because they will look for us in Novi Grad first."

The Soldier nodded, adjusted his mask, and after the younger man had grabbed his bag, they carefully left the abandoned apartment, leaving behind the silence and debris. Following his master’s directions, young Zemo helped the Soldier walk to the motorcycle, carefully hidden behind a pile of debris. The motorcycle appeared to be in good condition despite the chaotic circumstances of the area.

The Soldier mounted it first, wincing slightly as he lifted himself onto the seat. Young Zemo strapped the bag around his shoulders like a backpack and climbed onto the motorcycle behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around the Soldier's waist. This closeness felt incredibly comforting, and a warm sensation spread in his chest as he felt the Soldier's heat against his body.

In less time than it took to say, they were on their way, leaving the flames of Novi Grad behind them, to a life outside this hell.

Chapter Text

The motorcycle sped along at high speed. The landscapes transformed as they left the city, crossing snowy fields and the silent forests of Sokovia. The motorcycle cut through the icy air, but Helmut and the Soldier were driven by a sense of urgency and determination that kept them warm.

After about an hour of travel, heading north and delving deeper into the land, the air became cooler, the night thicker, and the scenery more serene as they progressed. They were heading to Kravasko, the young master's grandmother's place, where they could finally rest and plan their future away from HYDRA's clutches.

About fifty minutes later, they arrived near a large estate in the countryside. It was almost reluctantly that the younger one released the Soldier's waist to get off the motorcycle, having grown accustomed to the proximity and warmth during the nearly two-hour ride. The Soldier felt exhausted but also relieved. They had traveled nearly hundred kilometers, and the place seemed like a haven compared to the chaos they had just left.

A vast garden, several hectares in size, enclosed by cypress trees, surrounded the stone house that resembled a large farmhouse. To enter the property, a large wrought-iron gate blocked the access, followed by a long gravel driveway covered in snow, bordered by hedges and bushes stripped bare by the season. A massive oak, probably two centuries old, stood proudly right in front of the building and must have provided sweet shade during hot summer days.

The place had nothing to do with the Zemo Manor in the rural area of Novi Grad. It was warmer, more authentic, calmer, and deep down, the Soldier knew he would be safe there. It felt strange to have this need to feel safe, far from danger, as he was usually the danger people needed to escape from.

He left the motorcycle hidden from view near the cypress trees, knowing they wouldn’t be able to get through the gate unless it was opened for them. Helmut turned to the Soldier, his gaze full of hope.

“We’re almost there,” he said, stretching. “Since she’s not expecting visitors in the middle of the night, we have to find a way through the fence.”

“Through the fence ?” the Soldier said, looking up at the hedge of cypress trees more than two meters thirty high. “It’s tall.”

“We’re not going to climb trees,” the younger one said with a gentle laugh. “There’s no grid behind the cypress. They’re just very dense, but we can force our way through.”

The Soldier nodded, took off his mask and hung it on his belt, and followed the young master along the trees, looking for a spot between two slightly less dense cypress trees. The younger one removed his backpack, forced it through the flexible branches, and then slipped through. The smell of cypress was intense, but after some effort, Helmut emerged on the other side, in the vast garden.

The Soldier followed through the gap between the branches and joined the younger one on the other side. The garden seemed immense from within, and the snow covering every patch of ground created a soothing atmosphere. The Soldier approached the young master and gently took the bag from his hands. Surprised, the younger one watched him, then smiled. The Soldier returned the smile with a tenderness that painfully touched Helmut's heart and raised his flesh hand to briefly ruffle his hair.

“What the—”

“Snow,” he said with a slightly amused tone at the younger one's reaction. “You had some in your hair.”

Helmut smiled more broadly and thanked him, his eyes shining with a sincerity that gave him butterflies in his stomach.

“Come on, follow me.”

And the Soldier followed the younger one as they crossed the wide garden to reach the farmhouse, two hundred meters away. Helmut went around the house quietly to reach the shed, where there was an old defective window he could open to slip into the garage attached to the house. He slipped inside and then let the Soldier in before closing the window.

“ She really should get that window fixed… ” Helmut said, thinking about his grandmother who lived alone and was vulnerable to a break-in.

“But we’re lucky she hasn’t done it yet,” the Soldier replied matter-of-factly, and Helmut met his gaze before shrugging.

“True.”

Helmut went ahead to open the door leading to a storage and pantry area, then opened another door leading to a kitchen. The room was divided in two by a counter, creating an open kitchen layout. A round wooden table with four chairs was by the window, next to a stone fireplace, and on the other side of the wooden counter was the modern kitchen with a rustic style, and yellow-orange tiles reminiscent of sunset colors.

But the Soldier suddenly startled at sensing a presence behind him and stood in front of the younger one like a wall when he turned, facing the barrel of a gun. He grabbed the end of the barrel to point it upward in one swift move, ignoring the person on the other end, when the young master’s voice broke the silence.

“No!” he exclaimed, positioning himself between them. “ Babka, Grandma', it’s me!”

The woman with curly chestnut hair, who was holding the shotgun, looked at Helmut in astonishment and immediately lowered her weapon, pulling it away from the Soldier’s grasp, which had relaxed at the young master’s words.

“Helmut?” she said, bewildered, before glancing at the Soldier and then back at her grandson. “What are you doing here?”

“ Babka Grandma', I—” he corrected himself. “We need your help, please…”

The woman, in her sixties, turned her gaze back to the Soldier, then noticed the star painted on his metal arm. She began to mutter under her breath, frowning.

“I don’t want this here.”

“ Babka Grandma', it’s not what you think. He is—”

“It’s HYDRA,” she said with such contempt that the Soldier wouldn’t have been surprised if she had spat on the name. “The star of communism and his appearance scream it from the rooftops.”

“He’s not like the others,” he said, turning on the room’s light. “Father, grandfather, and even great-grandfather were all drowned in sweet illusions, but I am not.” He took a breath and placed a comforting hand on the Soldier’s shoulder, who relaxed a bit. “He is a victim, babka grandma', and he needs help. We both need it, we…” He nervously bit his lip. “We’ve put ourselves in quite a delicate situation.”

She took a deep breath and then looked back at the Soldier, taking the time to observe him now in full light. He stood still, his gaze fixed on her, but a glimmer of pain and fear was clearly visible in his eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it was the current situation—being to a stranger’s place—or something deeper.

She sighed, feeling a sudden empathy for this man. She turned back to the door through which she had entered to hang her shotgun back on its rack and then turned back to them.

“Are you hungry?”

Helmut sighed, suddenly relieved, and nodded. He noticed that the Soldier didn’t respond, but he knew he wasn’t very expressive or demonstrative when it came to eating.

“Yes, thank you, babka grandma'.”

The grandmother busied herself with warming up the meal quietly in a pot, her movements measured and precise. Helmut watched her, a mixture of gratitude and guilt on his face. The anxiety and urgency of the situation left no room for calm, but he was comforted by the fact that, for a moment at least, they had found a safe haven.

He turned to the Soldier, who was still near the counter, his shoulders tense but his eyes red. Helmut couldn’t tell if it was fatigue or the unprotected motorcycle ride that had caused the Soldier’s eyes to be this way, but it was clear he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Helmut also needed to check the state of the wound on his thigh.

He swallowed, searching for the words to explain to his grandmother what he knew about the Soldier and why he was with him. She had the right to know since they were both under her roof.

“ Babka Grandma',” he began, his voice trembling despite his attempt to stay firm, “this man…” He paused, searching for the right words. “He was captured by HYDRA years ago and was… broken by them, in every possible and imaginable way.” He motioned for the Soldier to sit on one of the four chairs around the table. “They turned him into a human weapon, erasing his memory violently, inflicting unspeakable torture on him, to the point that he forgot his own name…” He sat down next to him and discreetly placed his hand on the Soldier’s metal one. “He suffers greatly even though sometimes it seems like he feels nothing…” The Soldier looked deeply into the younger one’s eyes. “I came here because… Солдат, as I call him, is starting to regain a part of his humanity.”

The grandmother paused for a moment, her gaze settling with renewed intensity on the Soldier. The wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen as she listened to Helmut. She could see the truth in her grandson’s eyes, and her heart, despite her reluctance, was touched by the horror of the situation.

“And what do you plan to do, môj malý my little one?” she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. “What will happen to Солдат?”

Helmut took a deep breath, recalling his father’s words.

“ Tatko Dad… intends to report the situation. There is a man above Солдат who will be informed of…” He frowned. “Of his malfunctions. If we do nothing, if Солдат goes back to HYDRA, they will just continue to torture him, make him forget everything he is to punish him for this deviation. They will break him again until nothing is left, simply because he dared to act like a human being.”

The old woman’s eyes filled with compassion and determination. Since her daughter-in-law’s death, she had spent all her time raising Helmut with a strong sense of justice and responsibility. What she saw now was a young man in despair and another who had become a victim of a cruel regime’s abuses. She slowly nodded.

“You can stay here,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm. “But we must be careful. HYDRA never forgives, and when they’ve searched everywhere, they will think of this house.” She removed the pot from the heat. “Because your father will be looking for you above all, Helmut, and even though my house is very far from the Zemo Manor, he will eventually think you managed to come here. You must stay hidden, and I will make sure you are safe here while you find a long-term solution.”

Helmut felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders as he thanked his grandmother. He turned to the Soldier, who looked both relieved and confused. His eyes rested on him with a mix of gratitude and relief, though anxiety twisted in his gut, unsure of what would happen next.

The meal was served in a charged but serene atmosphere, with the grandmother bringing the large pot of beef Stroganoff to the table. The warmth of the food was a stark contrast to the cold they had endured for hours.

The Soldier, still stoic, took a bite with a slowness that betrayed deep mistrust and fatigue, but was pleasantly surprised by the texture and taste of the dish. He hadn’t eaten real food in what felt like an eternity.

Helmut, for his part, watched his grandmother and the Soldier, aware that every minute spent in this house was a precious respite in their flight. He knew time was of the essence, that every decision had to be made carefully, and that any misstep could mean the end of their fragile respite. But for now, he could breathe, appreciate his grandmother's cooking which he hadn’t seen for months, and the prospect of a future without pain for the Soldier.

The warmth of the meal, though comforting, could not entirely soothe the pain gnawing at Helmut's heart. The thought of the Soldier being forced back into the hell of HYDRA haunted every moment, imagining the organization suddenly barging in and breaking down the door of this house to take him away.

“Why were you up so late, babka grandma'?” asked Helmut as he finished his plate.

“You know, at my age, I’m starting to feel the effects of insomnia,” she smiled, looking at her glass of water. “I settle into my chair in the living room, watching reruns of The Dick Van Dyke Show , and wait for time to pass. Until I hear the window creak from the shed…”

She gave a mischievous smile, and Helmut couldn’t help but smile back. The Soldier noted a genuine bond between the young master and his grandmother.

“Helmut, I’ll leave you to clear the table. I’ll go prepare the rooms,” she said, standing up.

“You can prepare just one. Солдат has always shared my room, as he keeps watch over me.”

The woman glanced at the Soldier, confused before frowning, trying to understand.

“But… he doesn’t need to keep watch over you tonight.” She looked at the concerned party. “Helmut is safe here, and so are you.”

“He won’t be able to sleep if he’s not in the same room as me, babka,” Helmut replied on the Soldier’s behalf, which wasn’t entirely true, but he wanted them to sleep in the same room. “I know him; he’s been watching over me for just over two months.”

“As you wish,” she said, shrugging. “The daybed in the guest room is a bed anyway.”

“Thank you, babka grandma'.”

“Thank you, Madam.”

The old woman gave a genuine smile, hearing the Soldier's voice for the first time.

“You have a very nice voice, Солдат.” She gave him a warm smile. “If Helmut thought it worth putting himself in danger by defying HYDRA and his own father for you, it’s… because he saw the true person you are.” Helmut couldn’t help but smile at his grandmother’s words. She was incredible. “You’ll need to fight, especially on a psychological level, if you want to tear yourself away from HYDRA’s clutches.” She sighed as she headed out of the room to the stairs. “Neither my husband nor my son managed to escape, unfortunately, and I can’t bear the thought of my grandson being dragged into such an organization…”

Helmut and the Soldier quietly cleaned up the kitchen after the grandmother left. As they washed and dried the dishes, the Soldier gently touched the young master’s arm, seeking a comforting connection. This subtle gesture did not go unnoticed by Helmut, who immediately understood the need for reassurance in the Soldier’s eyes. He gave him a tender smile and lightly touched his arm to let him know he felt it and was indeed present.

Suddenly, a black cat appeared, slipping between their legs with the grace of a shadow. The two men froze for a moment, observing the animal with a touch of surprise. The cat meowed softly and rubbed against Helmut's ankles, who smiled as he bent to pet it.

"Her name is Drievka," he said, running his hand through the cat's silky fur. "She loves to do this, weaving around people and demanding affection."

The Soldier crouched carefully, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He extended his hand toward Drievka, gently petting her. The animal immediately began to purr, seemingly enjoying the unexpected contact.

"She seems to like you," the younger man murmured, observing the Soldier. "Cats can sense when humans are trustworthy..."

He smiled, and the Soldier slowly nodded, his gaze fixed on the cat with an almost childlike tenderness. He continued to pet Drievka with palpable affection, momentarily forgetting the weight of his own burden.

At that moment, the grandmother reappeared in the kitchen, wearing a small smile.

"The room is ready. You can go up whenever you like."

"Thank you, babka grandma'," Helmut replied as he saw her head back to the living room. He grabbed a towel to dry his wet hands and turned his gaze to the Soldier. "Shall we go up? Do you want... to take a shower before bed?"

The Soldier hesitated, his eyes fixed on the young master with intensity, wondering if he was truly ready to be away from him, even for a few minutes.

"I... I’d rather stay with you..."

Helmut instantly understood the source of this hesitation. The Soldier was anxious about being alone, fearing that HYDRA might show up and take him away to the Fortress, or perhaps something might happen while he wasn’t watching.

"Alright," he said soothingly. "How about... taking a shower with me, then? I could also take a look at your wound."

A faint smile crossed the Soldier's lips as he nodded slowly. The relief in his eyes was evident, and the prospect of being in a more intimate space with his master was more than welcome.

Chapter Text

They then made their way together to the bathroom, and Helmut did his best to maintain an atmosphere as serene as possible, wanting to make the Soldier as comfortable as he could.

The bathroom was simple but functional, with a walk-in shower and white tiled walls. Helmut adjusted the water temperature, making sure it was pleasantly warm. He turned to the Soldier, who was already hesitantly removing his clothes.

"You can undress without worry; I'll prepare the towels," Helmut said as he headed towards the closet.

He grabbed two clean towels and placed them on a towel rack near the shower, trying to focus on something other than the sound of clothes sliding down the Soldier’s body behind him. It was just a shower, nothing more. They needed rest.

The Soldier stepped under the stream of water, the water cascading over his skin with a soothing sound. Helmut, after a moment’s hesitation, finally entered the shower himself, positioning himself behind the Soldier. The space was narrow, but sufficient for some intimacy as well as freedom of movement.

The younger man took a deep breath, trying not to let his eyes and mind wander too much over the Soldier’s back. The muscles were prominent in places or finely defined in others, and despite the beauty of the Soldier’s body before him, his heart ached as he noticed the scars at the junction of his metal arm. It must have been awful…

“How do you feel?” he asked, his throat dry despite the humidity in the small room, his fingers lightly brushing the Soldier’s sides to avoid disturbing him.

His gaze involuntarily fell on the Soldier’s backside, his tongue passing between his lips, but he furrowed his brows upon seeing a bruise on the Soldier’s left thigh. Gently, he turned the Soldier by touching his shoulder to see him from the front. His eyes locked onto the Soldier’s, and Helmut could read a certain vulnerability there, but also a pleasantness in the features of his face.

Helmut gave a reassuring smile, but his gaze dropped lower, trying not to look at the Soldier’s groin, focusing solely on the bandage on his thigh. His hands gently brushed the Soldier’s skin around his injury, slowly moving towards the thigh where the wound was.

“It… it hurts a little,” the Soldier admitted, his voice trembling. “But… I feel better. I can feel it starting to heal.”

Helmut began to crouch but stopped immediately, unsure of what he might do if he kneeled in front of the Soldier. Instead, he reached out his hands to remove the bandage and examined the wound from a distance. His gaze softened at the sight of the wound, which was almost healed. The Soldier’s biology was astonishing.

He took a soft sponge and antiseptic lotion, and cleaned the wound with gentle dabs, ensuring the healing process was going well. He suspected he might not need to be so meticulous, but he knew the Soldier appreciated the attention, and that was what mattered most to him.

The tension in the air was palpable. Helmut struggled against the fierce urge to fall to his knees in front of the Soldier, and the Soldier struggled against the urge to pin the young master against the tiled wall and devour his lips.

The Soldier closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax in the warmth of the water and the care of the young master.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” the Soldier whispered, his words blending with the sound of the water. “I… feel responsible for what’s happening to us… for putting you in such a situation…”

“Don’t apologize,” the younger man replied with gentle firmness. “You’re not responsible at all. The problem is HYDRA, and my father…” He lowered his gaze but then looked back into the Soldier’s eyes. “But it’s certainly not your fault, nor mine…” He delicately placed a hand on his left pectoral, tracing slowly along the junction between metal and flesh with his fingertips. “What binds us, you and I, is powerful and incredible…” He shifted his gaze to his lips. “I have no regrets…”

The Soldier felt a delicious twist in his stomach and took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. He gently raised his right hand to timidly explore the younger man’s skin with his fingertips, tracing the finely defined muscles of his bicep, shoulder, and pectoral…

They remained like that in the shower for a long time, sharing a soothing silence where words were superfluous, and their fingers embarked on gentle explorations. 

They both jumped when scratching sounds were heard against the door, and Helmut let out a nervous laugh, resting his forehead against the Soldier’s shoulder.

“It must be Drievka…”

He lifted his head, and the Soldier seized the opportunity to capture his lips with his own. Helmut closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline course through his body, settling directly in his groin. He wrapped his arms around the Soldier’s neck to deepen the kiss and press their bodies closer together. The Soldier’s real arm wrapped possessively around the young master’s waist to hold him firmly, while his metal arm braced against the shower tiles to support them. 

He desired the young master so intensely that he wondered if it was inappropriate, but the younger man's tongue twirled with his own with such eagerness, punctuated by moans and sighs that chased away the last remnants of reason from the Soldier’s mind. He gently pressed the younger man against the tiles, continuing to kiss him over and over, and the younger man lifted a leg to rest it against his hip, then completely wrapped his other leg around his waist.

Hanging completely from the Soldier’s robust body, pressed against the shower wall, Helmut had never felt so close to taking things to the next level. Despite his attraction to the opposite gender too, he had never been with anyone, and now, the desire was urgent. Instinctively, he began to move his hips against the Soldier’s, who responded willingly, rubbing their bodies and lengths together, creating an extraordinary sensation due to the soapy water on their skin.

Helmut broke the kiss, desperately seeking air as he tilted his head back against the wall, but the Soldier buried his face in his neck, gently biting the flesh, which elicited a cry from the younger man. The Soldier could support the younger man with all his weight, one hand slipped into the small of his back and the other positioned behind the top of his thigh. He was going wild. He desired him so much that it made his head ache, all the blood leaving his brain to fuel his erection firmly pressed against the young master’s. He wanted so much more, but he knew that this position wouldn’t be the most comfortable for the younger man to go further.

Helmut desperately clung to the Soldier’s neck, afraid of falling, but the Soldier supported him with such ease that it was almost ridiculous. He was so strong that Helmut wondered how the Soldier had managed not to break him already, even accidentally. He returned to the Soldier’s mouth, mingling their breaths and tongues, the younger man letting out a small cry as the Soldier adjusted his grip under his thighs, each hand supporting him almost under his knees, allowing his length to align between his cheeks. 

His brain had decided to stop functioning. He wanted the Soldier to take him immediately, in this most improbable position that he knew would be memorable, especially for a first time. And even though he was limited in his experiences, he knew that not just anyone could lift someone like that with such disconcerting ease. He burned with the desire to discover what it felt like, he was dying to share it with the Soldier.

“ Пожалуйста... Я хочу тебя… Please... I want you...” Helmut whispered in the Soldier’s ear, fully aware of the effect his Russian had on him.

“ Хозяин… Master...” the Soldier almost moaned, a plea of pleasure in his voice.

“ Я привлекаюсь к тебе, как планета к своему спутнику... I am drawn to you like a planet to its satellite...”

Suddenly, the Soldier’s legs gave way, and they both collapsed heavily in the shower with a loud crash, Helmut letting out a cry of pain as they fell. He tried to free himself from under the Soldier’s weight, but the pain in his hip was throbbing. His vision was blurred, and the shock made his hands tremble as he tried to catch his breath.

“С-Солдат…!” He shook the Soldier with desperate urgency. “K-kurva…”

The Soldier did not respond, his body limp against Helmut. Panic took hold as Helmut realized his lover seemed unconscious. With considerable effort, he pushed the Soldier aside, managed to stop the shower by grabbing the faucet, and leaned over him.

The Soldier remained still, his eyes closed, his face pale and expressionless. Helmut tried to shake him again, calling his name, but there was still no response.

His heart pounding, he placed his fingers on the Soldier’s neck, searching for a pulse. He found one, weak but steady, which was a relief, though he didn’t know how long it would last.

With quick but careful movements, Helmut examined the Soldier’s head, making sure there was no external bleeding from the fall. Nothing seemed to indicate a severe injury. He tried to calm his breathing, the persistent panic clutching his mind. His own hip pain was almost secondary compared to the distress of seeing the Soldier so vulnerable.

Struggling out of the shower, limping from the radiating pain in his hip, he grabbed the towels and first used them to dry the Soldier, then quickly dried himself before attempting to get him out of the shower. The Soldier was heavy but not as imposing as he had feared. With fierce determination and adrenaline, Helmut moved, dragging the Soldier partially on his back, bringing him out of the shower and into the adjoining bedroom.

He couldn’t call his grandmother, not in this situation. And definitely not for emergency services. It would be the end for them.

He struggled to lift him and place him on the bed. The bedroom was right next to the bathroom, which made the transfer easier. Out of breath and wincing, he carefully laid the Soldier on the mattress, being cautious not to worsen the injury to his thigh. He knew he needed to position him on his side.

Helmut recalled the first aid techniques he had learned a few years ago: he rolled the Soldier onto his side, sliding a pillow under his head—a simple yet effective technique to prevent asphyxiation in case of unconsciousness. He positioned him to keep his airways clear, then sat beside him, his hands trembling and his mind fraught with anxiety.

He watched the Soldier, his eyes scrutinizing every movement, every breath. He didn’t understand what had happened. Everything had turned abruptly, with no warning signs, making the situation all the more alarming. 

Looking at his own hip, Helmut winced at the enormous bruise forming from the top of his thigh to above his hip. The pain was throbbing and growing, but he pushed aside his own complaints to focus on the Soldier.

His thoughts circled as minutes passed, searching for an explanation for the Soldier’s collapse. Was it a fainting spell due to fatigue, the thigh injury, or something more serious? 

Helmut kept monitoring the Soldier, his fingers lightly brushing the Soldier’s forehead to check his temperature, trying to convey a minimal amount of comfort through his actions, in case the Soldier was responsive.

Every minute felt like an eternity as he waited, anxious and helpless. The sight of the unconscious Soldier, his lips slightly parted and his breathing weak, was unbearable. He was so powerful, magnificent, and now, he was just a simple man, vulnerable and fragile.

Helmut sighed deeply, cursing himself for not being more cautious, for not anticipating any signs of danger, and for being too eager, pushing things too far when the Soldier clearly needed rest.

Helmut remained seated there, his hand gently resting on the Soldier’s metal shoulder, hoping that the night would bring answers and that his lover would soon awaken from unconsciousness.

. . .

The Soldier slowly emerged from the darkness of sleep, the throbbing pain in his head bringing him gradually back to consciousness. He opened his eyes with difficulty, his eyelids heavy as if weighed down by the night. The first light of dawn filtered through the room’s curtains, casting a soft orange hue on the walls.

The headache was unpleasant, pulsing with each beat of his heart. He tried to move, but the pain in his head seemed to spread throughout his body. His vision was blurry, as if covered by a slight mist. He attempted to sit up, but his movements were restricted by stiffness in his muscles and the omnipresent fatigue.

Looking around, he noticed that the environment was unfamiliar. He was in a bedroom, a simple but comfortable room, tastefully decorated, but most importantly, the young master was beside him, asleep, leaning against the headboard. His presence was reassuring, but given his position, it seemed he had kept vigil by his side all night, his posture indicating deep exhaustion.

The Soldier tried to remember the events leading up to this moment. The memory was fragmented, images distorted like shards of scattered glass.

He recalled the shower, the intense desire he had felt for the young master, him pressed against him, whispering in Russian, then blackout. 

His confusion mingled with a sense of worry. He recognized this sensation. It felt like a forced deactivation, meaning the young master had accidentally said the word that activated it.

Young Zemo stirred slightly, a sigh escaping his lips. His eyes slowly opened, first focusing on the ceiling before drifting toward the Soldier. Realizing that the Soldier was awake, he quickly sat up, wincing slightly, but looked at him with a genuine smile despite the fatigue on his face.

"Солдат..." he whispered, his voice hoarse from sleep. "You really scared me last night..."

The Soldier tried to speak, but his voice was rough and weak. He realized he had to make an effort to be understood.

"Master... I..." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. "I don't remember what happened..."

"You suddenly fainted," the younger one replied, slowly moving closer to him. He looked both relieved and exhausted. "We were..." He managed a smile as he remembered. "We were doing well, I'd say," he looked at him with a glimmer of mischief before regaining his seriousness. "But then, suddenly, you were gone, and we both collapsed in the shower."

He observed the young master closely. Obviously, and as he had suspected, the young master was not aware that he had used a trigger word to forcefully deactivate the Soldier. He couldn't blame him; he didn't know, and the Soldier couldn’t say the word without triggering a dreadful headache to himself.

He took a deep breath, letting his gaze sweep over the young master’s body, half-exposed outside the sheets, and frowned when he saw the purplish skin around the young master’s right hip. He was overwhelmed by a strong wave of guilt.

"Did I do this to you...?" he said with wide eyes, his voice betraying pain and horror. "I... I'm terribly sorry...!"

The young master shook his head and gently placed a hand on the Soldier's arm, a reassuring gesture.

"You don’t have to apologize, Солдат. You lost consciousness, you’re not responsible. The shock wasn’t pleasant, but I’ll recover." He gave a gentle smile. "It’s already less painful than breaking my tailbone falling out of my bedroom window." He let out a small laugh, and even though the Soldier seemed to relax, he still felt guilty. "Hey..." He cupped the Soldier’s face in his hands before kissing him tenderly on the lips. "This bruise is minor compared to your sudden loss of consciousness... I'm more worried about you than about myself..."

The Soldier slightly nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, and leaned toward the young master to kiss him more earnestly. He pulled back and tried to sit up, struggling against a wave of dizziness that buzzed in his head. He knew it would pass, but he needed to talk to the young master.

"Master, I need to talk to you about what happened," he said softly, his voice hoarse but determined. "You actually said a trigger word..."

Helmut’s eyes widened, a mix of understanding and guilt in his gaze.

"A trigger word...? But which one?"

"I can’t say it without giving myself a painful headache, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say it either. In Russian, it’s active, but in another language, it doesn’t affect me." He took a deep breath, still fearing he might react to the word. "It’s the word 'satellite.' " He paused, noting that nothing happened. "It’s a safety measure that HYDRA put in place to control me. When I’m exposed to that word, I lose consciousness immediately. It’s a protective mechanism to prevent me from becoming a threat." He frowned. "Submission trigger words, on the other hand, I’ve been programmed not to be able to say them, not even in another language..."

The young master shivered. He was horrified that HYDRA had gone so far in the conditioning process, and disgusted that he himself had triggered it, even though it was accidental.

"I-I’m terribly sorry..." His voice caught in his throat. "I didn’t know. I would never have used that word if I had known... I... I just wanted to..."

The Soldier tried to smile to reassure him, positioning himself in front of him and taking the young master’s face in his hands.

The young master’s eyes were tearful and filled with guilt, but the Soldier gently caressed his cheeks with his thumbs, the metal of his left hand not as cold as usual.

"You don’t need to apologize... It was accidental. You couldn’t have known, and I had no idea you would use it."

Helmut gently grasped his forearms, closing his eyes softly, savoring the surge of tenderness coming from the Soldier.

"I... I’m terrified of having caused you harm." He swallowed hard. "What am I if I start inflicting the same atrocities as those monsters...?"

"Master... You are absolutely not like them." He managed a smile. "I would willingly give you all the activation words if I could, because I know you wouldn’t abuse them. I trust you..." He kissed him again. "If I could belong to you, I would already be yours..."

Helmut’s heart clenched painfully at the realization. The Soldier had just confessed his feelings to him.

"N-no need to possess the trigger words for that, Солдат..." he whispered, his eyes locked on the Soldier’s.

"Then..." The Soldier took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "I am yours, Master."

"Just as I am yours, Солдат..."

The young man, his eyes shining with emotion and tenderness, leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. It was a gentle kiss but filled with deep emotions, a silent promise of support, loyalty, and love. The Soldier responded with an intensity mixed with gratitude and desire, his lips moving against those of the young master with contained fervor. 

The words had been spoken, the feelings shared, and in the soft golden light of the new day, they felt ready to overcome any obstacles.

Chapter Text

The early March sun bathed the grandmother's garden in a soft, golden light, revealing the first signs of spring. Although the garden was still scattered with dead leaves, it seemed to be slowly waking up from winter. The trees were beginning to bud, and the first flowers were making their appearance, adding splashes of color to the verdant landscape. It was in this serene setting that Helmut and the Soldier spent their days.

Their time together had become a pleasant routine, filled with discoveries and explorations. In the mornings, they had breakfast outdoors, enjoying the sunlight and the birds' songs. Helmut, ever enthusiastic, made plans for the day, suggesting walks in the surrounding hills or visits to nearby villages while keeping a low profile. The Soldier, though more reserved, was drawn into the younger man's enthusiasm, discovering with wonder the simplicity and beauty of life beyond the constraints of his past.

They had come to know each other more deeply. Helmut, with all his youth and curiosity, shared his dreams of traveling the world and discovering different cultures, his passions such as fencing, philosophy, and psychology, and his hopes for the future, which ideally would be free of HYDRA and his father’s despotism. He felt like a teenager caught up in a romance, marveling at every exchanged smile and every moment spent with the Soldier.

The Soldier had confessed that he dreamed of leaving HYDRA and exploring the beauty of the wilderness through long journeys. His passions were unfortunately limited by his conditioning, knowing only that he adored bladed weapons and that chocolate and the apple-filled пирожки pirojki were rare treats he had tasted and immediately loved. He had never really thought about future plans, having been merely an instrument for HYDRA until then, but the idea of accompanying the young master in his plans was very appealing.

Conversations were often light, full of laughter and complicity, but sometimes they became more serious, delving into the complex layers of their respective pasts. Notably, when the Soldier confessed to the young master an irrational fear of trains, Helmut found it interesting, as it was likely linked to his past life.

For the Soldier, these days spent with the young master were a rediscovery of the humanity he had lost. Every gesture, every glance, every embrace was a revelation. He had learned to express his emotions and thoughts more, to appreciate moments of tenderness, to initiate them, and to understand the depth and complexity of his own feelings. He finally felt free to live and love, away from HYDRA’s manipulations and control. He embraced each new experience with a thirst for life he had never known before.

The grandmother, a discreet observer, understood much more than she let on. She saw how deeply Helmut and the Soldier were connected, perceiving the depth of their bond. Although she made no direct comments, she supported their relationship by providing a warm and welcoming environment. She was happy to see her grandson flourishing and to allow the Soldier to taste a freedom he had never experienced. She simply smiled at the connection between the two men, knowing that her silent support was all they needed.

During these two weeks, the Baron had attempted to reach his mother for news of his son. Contact was difficult, and the conversations were tense. During their last discussion, the grandmother had expressed her displeasure with the Baron's accusations. She had made it clear, without ever saying it directly, that she was not responsible for her grandson’s flight, without revealing the truth. She had also warned the Baron that he would have to face the consequences of his negligence, and she demanded that he find Helmut quickly if he did not want her to create a scandal during the election campaign. Obviously, this was only a role she had to play if the situation was realistic and if she had ignored where her grandson was.

Helmut and the Soldier had continued to enjoy their days together, away from the worries of the outside world. They often wandered through the surrounding areas, getting lost in fields and forests, exploring the little treasures that nature had to offer. The Soldier, in particular, found a peace and contentment he had never known. He marveled at the little things – the scent of flowers, the sound of the wind in the trees, the changing colors of the sky.

Their evenings were spent relaxing together, often around a nice meal prepared by the grandmother. They talked about their days, shared stories, and enjoyed the tranquility of their surroundings. Laughter and conversations blended with the softness of the starry nights. The Soldier allowed himself to bask in this kindness.

The Soldier, although aware of the implications of their situation, felt deeply happy. He knew that every moment spent with the young master was precious, and he was determined to cherish this newfound freedom. Their love was nascent but powerful, and in the intimacy of their little bubble of happiness, they found immense comfort and joy. He knew he would never have this with HYDRA, not even with his handler Karpov, whom he had affection for due to their bond.

The grandmother, for her part, delighted in seeing her grandson happy and fulfilled, while continuing to discreetly support the Soldier in his quest for freedom and love. She knew the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but for now, she was content to see Helmut and the Soldier savoring every moment of their new life together, far from the shadows of the past.

The grandmother’s living room was bathed in a soft light that late morning, the sun’s rays filtering through the curtains. The atmosphere was relaxed as Helmut and the Soldier rested after a long morning of exploration. They had settled into comfortable chairs, one close to the other, and the television was airing an episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show .

The grandmother was seated in her favorite chair, a playful smile on her lips, watching the romantic adventures of the characters on screen. She was visibly delighted by the charm and simplicity of the show, which evoked a more carefree time.

The Soldier, on the other hand, was captivated by the episode, his eyes attentive to the comedic scenes and witty dialogues. Due to his past, he had not often had the chance to relax in front of such light-hearted comedy.

Dressed in ordinary clothes—a loose sweater and jeans—he felt more at ease, although his metal hand was still visible, resting against his side with some discomfort. Helmut had made sure to choose clothes that could hide most of his arm while being comfortable, trying to help him understand that he should not be ashamed of his arm, as it was part of him.

Helmut watched the Soldier with a discreet smile, amused by his reactions. The contrast between the tension of the past and the current relaxation was striking. The Soldier seemed almost naïve in his wonder at the show’s situations. Every laugh, every smile that the Soldier shared with him made Helmut happy. It was like reading an open book on the Soldier’s emotions, discovering each page of his rediscovered humanity. His features were relaxed, his long hair falling elegantly over his shoulders, and his skin had regained some color after winter.

Helmut wondered if it was time to reassess the more intimate dimension of their relationship. The episode in the shower, where the Soldier had lost consciousness, had left a mark on his mind. Helmut had felt a mix of guilt and concern, especially after having been forced to take time for his hip to heal, possibly frustrating the Soldier once or twice over the past two weeks. He wondered if the time had come for them to try again, as the younger man's mind often wandered to what they could do, though he was not yet sure of the best way to proceed without rushing things for the Soldier.

The idea occupied his thoughts almost every day as he savored the moments of lightness with the Soldier. The more time passed, the longer the wait seemed.

When the episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show ended, the television switched to the news. The grandmother adjusted her chair, ready to listen to the updates while Helmut and the Soldier relaxed, still immersed in tranquility. However, this calm was abruptly shattered when the news anchor announced an important update: Baron Heinrich Zemo had been elected minister.

The announcement was a cold shower. The room, which had been so lively with the laughter of the television show just moments before, suddenly filled with a heavy atmosphere. The Soldier clenched his fists, his eyes darkening as his thoughts turned to HYDRA. He knew that the Baron would use his new position to intensify his plans, including the creation of superhumans for an army of super-soldiers.

Helmut watched the Soldier with concern, his own mind recalling the consequences of this news. The prospect of seeing HYDRA redouble its efforts to find the Soldier and continue its experiments deeply troubled him. The Soldier’s gaze, lost in dark thoughts, mirrored his own fears.

The grandmother, though maintaining a calm expression, immediately sensed the shift in mood. She stretched from her chair and placed her hand on the Soldier’s arm, a silent gesture of reassurance.

Helmut turned to her, acknowledging the unspoken understanding she offered in this difficult situation.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Helmut murmured, his voice tinged with newfound determination. “We need to find a way to protect what we’ve built here…”

The Soldier nodded slowly, his features softening a little under the warmth of Helmut’s hand resting on his thigh and the compassion the old woman conveyed through her hand on his arm.

“I expect HYDRA to intensify their efforts,” he said in a grave tone. “But for now, we must keep living, cherishing every moment we have here.” He ran his tongue over his lips, thinking. “If things get complicated, we’ll have to leave, to protect you, Madame.”

“Pfff,” the old woman smiled. “Even though I refuse to have anything to do with the organization, I know HYDRA despite myself. And I’d know how to handle a high-ranking official who thinks he’s above everything.”

“They might hurt you.”

“I believe that of all of them, you’re the most formidable, aren’t you?” She tilted her head, a glint of mischief in her eyes, a look similar to the young master’s. “So, it’s not a mere man who’s going to scare me.”

“She’s not wrong,” replied the younger with a wry smile. “But you’re right, if things go awry, we won’t be able to stay.”

They watched silently as the Baron’s face appeared on the television, giving a press conference, the sound and words seeming distant, even muffled.

It was no longer a question of ifs , but of whens .

Early in the afternoon, sheltered behind a lush bush and away from prying eyes, the young master and the Soldier enjoyed the mild weather to clear their minds.

Helmut had spread a large cloth on the fresh grass, and they lay side by side, letting the warmth of the sun filtering through the tree branches envelop them. The garden, often filled with the murmurs of the wind and the songs of birds, provided the perfect setting for their moment of relaxation.

The younger man had brought with him a selection of sweets, treats, and chocolate that he had carefully chosen to please the Soldier, but also for himself, having a sweet tooth for those things.

The Soldier, curious and delighted, discovered with wonder the different flavors the young master offered him: Turkish delights of various flavors, caramel krowki , the famous fruity 505 Sa Crtom candies, Haribo Gummy Bears, marshmallows, Sokovian nougat, and, of course, chocolate.

The Soldier enjoyed most of the sweets presented to him, but he especially preferred the chocolate, which sent bursts of endorphins and serotonin into his poor, damaged brain. The pieces of chocolate melted in his mouth, their rich and delicious flavors providing him with simple yet intense joy.

“You know, this is only the second time I’ve tasted chocolate,” the Soldier confessed as he savored a piece of milk chocolate. “It’s... delicious.”

Helmut smiled as he watched him marvel.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my little personal pleasures; my mother used to say I’d probably have diabetes when I got older,” he chuckled softly as he watched him. “I thought you might enjoy this treat after everything you’ve been through.”

“It’s more than a treat,” the Soldier smiled, increasingly able to do so these days, “it’s divine.” He nodded as if to affirm his words. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to taste it again and to discover all the rest…”

Their hands occasionally brushed as they shared the sweets, their fingers touching with a gentle and natural intimacy. These seemingly trivial gestures had become symbols of their growing connection, small moments of closeness that strengthened their bond.

“Sometimes, I wonder how we got to this point,” Helmut said, his voice tinged with reflection, as he picked up a Turkish delight. “Everything that led us to meet, the paths we took…”

The Soldier turned his head towards him, his eyes shining with sincerity, a wry smile that suited him perfectly.

“Sometimes, I also think about what the future might hold for us…” the Soldier confessed, as if revealing a shameful secret. “I feel like a stranger in this world, but with you… I’m discovering new things, feelings, and pleasures I never imagined…”

Helmut placed his hand over the Soldier’s, holding it gently.

“We have so much more to share, Солдат… I’d like to show you everything this world has to offer, to help you discover what it truly means to be free, to be happy…” He looked at him tenderly. “To be loved and to feel safe…”

The Soldier looked at him intensely, a glimmer of desire and hope in his eyes. He already had all of that with the young master, even if for some things it was only temporary. But he would fight to keep it.

To keep him.

“I would like to be by your side for all of this as well... I’ve learned to appreciate every moment with you, every moment of peace and... happiness…”

The atmosphere around them was imbued with a nearly tangible softness, the rustling of the leaves and the song of the birds creating a symphony in the background. 

Helmut leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against the Soldier’s in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with promises and shared desires, a simple gesture but laden with the depth of their feelings. The Soldier responded with equal tenderness, his arms wrapping around the young master in a protective embrace, savoring the sweet taste on his lips, which he could now call “delightful” with that added sweetness.

The two men surrendered to the exchange, their kiss extending in the warmth and serenity of the moment, stretching out gently on the blanket to kiss each other tenderly, eyes closed, savoring the caresses each gave to the other.

Hidden from view, they found refuge in this precious moment, enjoying the closeness and passion that bound them together. Their hands sought each other, their bodies drew nearer, creating a silent yet powerful intimacy. They were in harmony with the world around them, relishing every second of this bubble of happiness created in the heart of the garden, beneath the shade of the trees.

When they finally parted, their faces were marked by a tranquil happiness. The Soldier smiled, his eyes filled with deep affection for the young master, while Helmut seemed radiant, a gleam of satisfaction and love in his eyes.

“ Thank you, ” the Soldier whispered, his lips still warm from the kiss. “ For everything… ”

“ I am the one who should thank you, ” the younger man replied, looking at him tenderly. “ For being by my side, for everything we share… ”

Their hands remained intertwined as they lay on the blanket, pressed close to each other, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the tranquility of the moment. The garden around them seemed to envelop them in a warm embrace, an ephemeral sanctuary where they could feel at peace, far from the threats looming over them, which they chose not to think about.

Their love was present, fragile but also terribly real. In this suspended moment, they found an oasis of happiness and intimacy, a precious respite in a world that was becoming increasingly uncertain. The Soldier and the young master knew that the challenges were only beginning, but for now, they chose to focus on what they had: their love.

Chapter Text

In the dead of night, darkness enveloped the Isolated Fortress like a merciless shroud, smothering the sounds of the icy wind atop the Sokovian hills and the desperate cries of Dr. Hale's test subjects. The walls of the cell where the Soldier was held were damp and cold, seeming to close in inexorably, carving an abyss of loneliness and pain. The Soldier, chained to the ground, was motionless, unable to move, his limbs numb and cold. Each breath was an effort, each thought a burden. The silence was almost tangible, interrupted only by his own breathing. His uncomfortable position, the chains tight against his wrists, and the weight of his own despair painted a picture of desolation.

Despite the cold and pain, he was forced to remain still, obeying an order given to him by someone he couldn't remember, an order that allowed no deviation. Normally, he could disobey orders if his life was in danger, but that was currently impossible. The only person who had such power over him wasn’t supposed to be there. So… why couldn’t he break free..?

The cell door suddenly creaked open, breaking the monotony of the darkness. A blinding light pierced through the shadows, revealing a figure, a menacing shape emerging from the darkness. The Soldier, his eyes wide, could barely make out the features of the man approaching him. He knew that silhouette, that oppressive presence, that incarnate nightmare. A wave of terror and disgust washed over the Soldier as he recognized Karpov, and his stomach churned with the shock. The fear was mingled with an incongruous reaction, a surge of endorphins flooding his veins, a disconcerting effect of his conditioning. He felt torn between the terror he felt towards his handler and a strange sense of relief, a conditioned response that drove him to feel a kind of unhealthy happiness at seeing his handler again after all this time.

The reaction was detestable, almost a betrayal of his own feelings, yet it was irrepressible. Karpov slowly approached, his piercing eyes scrutinizing the Soldier with a gleam of disappointment. The Soldier felt a wave of shame wash over his broken mind. The signs of disappointment on Karpov's face were like a punishment in themselves, inflicting a pain deeper than the chains that bound his movements. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to beg for forgiveness, but no sound came out. The gag imposed by his mask was an impenetrable barrier, and the silence had become an equally oppressive prison.

Karpov leaned slightly forward, his relentless gaze piercing the darkness. In a cold, almost disdainful voice, he addressed the Soldier.

“Do you hear me ?”

The Soldier, his pupils dilated with terror, subtly nodded. Every movement was an ordeal, a demonstration of his deplorable state. The recognition of Karpov, the confirmation of his authority and power over him, only intensified the inner torment he endured. Karpov's face, in the fleeting light, was reflected in the Soldier's eyes like a specter of his shattered past. The weight of Karpov's gaze, the weight of guilt and shame, seemed to suffocate any ability to react other than by losing himself in a sea of conflicting emotions. The Soldier was caught in the grip of his own defense mechanisms and the cruelty of his conditioning, a puppet suspended by the invisible strings of his tortured past, held by HYDRA through the years. In the icy darkness, the Soldier remained there, motionless and broken, awaiting the verdict of the one who had always been both his executioner and, perversely, an authority figure he couldn’t help but desire.

“Do you know why you are here?”

The question remained unanswered, the Soldier frozen in a posture of submission. The chains clinked slightly with each tiny movement, but he was unable to do more than stare at the ground. Karpov, visibly irritated by the silence, offered the Soldier permission that seemed more like a favor than a right.

“Speak now.”

No sooner had the order been given that the Soldier felt a mental lock release, allowing his chaotic thoughts to surface. Each breath was a struggle, but he managed to articulate through the mask that muffled his voice.

"I betrayed my handler… and HYDRA."

Karpov nodded slowly, without a word. His movements were measured and calculated. He reached out a hand towards the Soldier's face, removing the mask with calculated precision. The fresh air touched the Soldier's face, but before he could relish it, a brutal slap struck him, the force of the impact making him cry out in pain. Head bowed, he remained submissive, tears of pain welling in his eyes. 

Karpov, merciless, grabbed the Soldier's face between his fingers, forcing him to look up at him. His words were laden with icy contempt.

"You have been a very bad Soldier." His gaze was cold. "Your mission is canceled. You have disappointed me." He shook his head slowly in disapproval. "You will be sent back to Siberia. But before that... you will be reset." He smiled slightly. "And to add to your punishment, young Zemo will be forced to watch you disappear, to watch you forget everything about him."

Terror immediately flooded the Soldier. The idea that the young master might be present somewhere made his heart race. The thought of the reset, that dreaded process, added to his growing panic. Fear and guilt mixed as Karpov slapped him again, dragging him brutally out of his state of shock.

"Follow me, now," Karpov ordered.

The Soldier, trembling with fear, instantly obeyed, tearing off the chains, his body acting under the grip of conditioning and submission to his handler. 

They arrived in a vast, cold hangar, where the atmosphere was thick with palpable tension. In the middle of the space, tied to a metal pole, stood Helmut Zemo, gagged and immobilized. The younger man's eyes, full of distress, met the Soldier's, a glimmer of despair and pain shining through his gaze. The presence of the young master, combined with the Soldier's growing anguish, created an almost surreal scene, a vision that seemed to tear apart the last fragments of his inner resistance.

At the other end of the hangar, the reset chair, sinister and imposing, stood like a specter of imminent punishment. The Soldier felt panic overwhelm him as his steps guided him towards that dreaded machine. His mind was a whirlwind of terror, confusion, and regret, the conditioning pushing him forward despite his own despair.

He didn’t want to. But he couldn’t resist when the orders came from Karpov.

Karpov, relentless, monitored the Soldier's every movement, his imposing presence adding to the crushing weight of the situation. The Soldier, unable to fight against the submission that dominated him, allowed himself to be guided to the reset device, fear and shame tearing at his soul as he approached his inevitable fate.

A small audience was there to witness the scene: Strucker, Hale, and a few technicians. Even some members of the Harvest team were present: Anya and Rumlow. 

The final moments before the reset were a whirlwind of emotions, the sight of the young master tied up, his gaze filled with distress, blending with the feeling of his own impending doom. 

"Sit."

The coldness of the reset chair against his skin, Karpov’s preparations, and the desperate gaze of his young master melded into a nightmarish vision. 

This wasn’t real. He was having a nightmare; it couldn’t be anything else.

And as the electrodes and reset devices were put in place by the technicians, the Soldier found himself at a crossroads, between pain, betrayal, and a devotion that still bound him to the younger man, all merging into an unbearably intense scene. 

The hangar had become a theater of silent horror, where despair and cruelty intertwined in a scene of suffering. Helmut, gagged and bound, watched with palpable terror as the Soldier, while the technicians adjusted the reset devices. His eyes overflowed with tears, silently pleading for the Soldier to rebel, to save himself, or do something to avoid this calamity. The glances exchanged between Helmut and the Soldier were laden with despair and pain, a silent dialogue of distress.

The strange helmet was placed on the Soldier’s head, his eyes shining with palpable terror, and a mouthguard was inserted. The electrodes were fixed with precision, each movement by the technicians accentuating the tension in the air. Then Karpov gave the green light with implacable coldness.

When the first electrical shocks surged through the helmet, the Soldier convulsed on the chair, indescribable pain flooding his mind. He groaned with each shock, his body tensing under the effect of the electrical pulses. The muffled cries of the younger man, stifled by the gag, mingled with the Soldier’s groans, an echo of suffering in the hangar. Tears flowed freely down Helmut’s face, his body shaking with silent sobs as he watched his lover being broken.

Suddenly, the shocks ceased, leaving the hangar in a heavy, oppressive silence. The Soldier remained still, exhausted and gasping, his breathing irregular and labored. Helmut stared at the Soldier, eyes wide, hoping against all hope that he was still there, that his mind hadn’t been completely wiped by the reset.

Karpov then pulled out a red book adorned with a black star, an object that seemed almost sacred in the coldness of the hangar. He opened it and began to recite words in Russian, each syllable resonating like a condemnation. Helmut, breathing rapidly, followed the words with desperate intensity, alternating his gaze between the book and the Soldier, his heart pounding.

The book closed with a sharp snap, echoing in the silence like a final sentence. Helmut's eyes widened even more as the Soldier, in a state of complete submission, murmured in a deep voice.

"Ready to comply."

The technicians unfastened the Soldier from the chair with mechanical precision, and Karpov, with a chilling coldness, turned to the Soldier. His tone was as impassive as that of a judge delivering a verdict.

"Kill the young Zemo."

The words echoed like a death sentence, and the Soldier, despite the pain and exhaustion, rose with unwavering obedience. His eyes, empty and compliant with orders, locked onto the bound young man. The young master, terrified, watched his lover prepare to carry out what he feared the most.

The Soldier grabbed the young man by the throat with his metal arm, squeezing his fingers with all his strength to deprive him of air. But just as the younger man began to roll his eyes, the scene cracked and transformed into a dark mist. The hangar, the murmurs of the onlookers, the young man's muffled cries—all of it dissipated in a whirlwind of confusion. The Soldier felt as though he was being sucked into this abyss of terror, his skull compressed from within, like a sudden transition between light sleep and REM sleep.

He awoke abruptly, drenched in sweat, in the bed with crumpled sheets. His heart pounding wildly, he opened his eyes in horror when he realized he was sitting on top of the young master, his left hand clenched around the latter's throat. The younger man's eyes were wide with terror and distress, his face flushed from lack of air, his hands desperately clutching at the Soldier.

Chapter Text

The Soldier abruptly released his grip, pulling his hand back as if he had been burned, frozen by the horrifying act he had been committing. Helmut took a deep breath before being overtaken by a violent coughing fit. The Soldier looked around, his breathing ragged, panic and guilt gripping him in the chest.

What had he just done?

The Soldier hurriedly moved off the young master's legs, then off the bed, to curl up on the floor, his gaze fixed on the younger man with intense terror.  

The nightmare was over, but reality was even worse. Even from a distance, without meaning to, HYDRA was still manipulating him. Karpov was controlling him.  

He wasn’t free. He never would be. Not as long as he was alive since his mind was playing tricks on him.

Suddenly, he crawled out of bed and reached out with his right hand towards the bag lying nearby to pull out his combat knife and pointed the blade at his chest.  

Helmut jumped out of bed, stumbling over the sheets and falling to the floor before tearing the blade from the Soldier’s hands.

“NO!”

He sent the knife sliding under the bed before grabbing the Soldier’s face between his hands and pulling him against his chest, kneeling in front of him.  

“It’s okay, môj láska my love, I’m fine. It’s nothing…” His voice was rough and painful, but he didn’t care. “You weren’t yourself, you were having a nightmare…”

The Soldier trembled against him, crying silently, not daring to even embrace the young master for fear of hurting him further.  

The Soldier shouldn’t even think of touching him; he didn’t deserve the young master.  

Nevertheless, the younger man kept pressing the Soldier’s face against his chest, running his fingers through his hair, murmuring things the Soldier couldn’t quite understand. It felt like he was underwater, all the sounds blurred and distant. Occasionally, kisses were placed on the top of his head, and he could feel the young master’s chest gently vibrating as he spoke to him or perhaps hummed.

After what felt like endless minutes, the Soldier finally raised his head and buried his face in the young master’s neck, his silent tears running down his skin, the need for comfort and safety overcoming the terror.  

Helmut held him tightly, his own heart breaking at the vulnerability of his lover. He knew perfectly well that the Soldier hadn’t wanted to hurt him. However, he didn’t know if the Soldier had dreamed of strangling someone else or himself. If it was the latter, then the Soldier must feel utterly helpless and terrified.  

Helmut gently pulled back to see the Soldier’s face before taking it in his hands and wiping away his tears with his thumbs.

“You didn’t mean to…”

“I-I’m s-sorry…”

“Shh…”

He kissed the Soldier’s right eye, then the left, the tip of his nose, and then his lips.  

The Soldier, eyes closed and cheeks wet, responded softly, as if ashamed, fragile, and terrified of hurting him again.

“What did you dream of?” The younger man asked, pulling back a bit, sitting on his heels between the Soldier’s bent legs. “It must have been awful for you to have had such a hard time coming back to reality…”

“You…” the Soldier inhaled. “HYDRA found us… and K-Karpov wanted to reset me as punishment…” His throat tightened as he looked away. “During the process, you were there, tied up, forced to watch…” He painfully closed his eyes as if trying to push away the images replaying in his mind. “When… When it was over… he…” He swallowed hard. “He ordered me to kill you…” He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes brimming with tears as a few rolled silently down his cheeks. “I obeyed… without hesitation…”

Helmut took a deep breath before standing up and taking the Soldier’s hands to help him do the same. Confused, the latter followed, his throat tight, and a knot in his stomach giving him a sudden feeling of nausea.

“It was just a nightmare, Cолдат…” The younger man said as he guided him back to the bed. “You woke up because your mind, your consciousness, was still there, warning you of the external danger that was happening.” He climbed onto the mattress backward, never taking his eyes off the Soldier, guiding him to do the same. “You handled the situation on your own, Cолдат…” he gave a soft smile. “It’s proof that you’re truly here, that your mind is yours, and that they can’t control you from a distance, even through a dream, because you are and will always be present…”

The Soldier wasn’t sure that his mind would always be there to warn him of the danger and harm he could cause because of HYDRA, as he had never hesitated or felt any remorse when he had to execute someone. But the young master’s assurance gave him hope. Perhaps he was right in some way. If he was emotionally connected to the person he was attacking, then maybe, yes, his mind would scream at him to stop before it was too late. To bring him back to the surface, to consciousness.

Like just now.

He nodded slowly, unable to articulate anything as his throat was too tight with emotion, and he stifled a sob when his eyes drifted to the younger man’s neck, where he saw the finger marks from his metal hand.  

His face twisted in a grimace of sorrow and guilt, and Helmut understood what was going through the Soldier’s mind as he looked at his neck.  

He grabbed the Soldier’s face again, forcing him to look into his eyes before kissing him more fervently this time.

“I’ll say it again…” Helmut said, breaking the kiss. “I’m fine… It’s not your fault…”

The Soldier wanted to argue, but Helmut gently pushed him back toward the headboard so he would sit and lean against it. His legs stretched out on the mattress, the younger man straddled him, sitting on his lap, facing him, before kissing him again, taking the Soldier's hands and placing them on his hips.

“I’m here, I’m fine, môj láska my love…” He placed his own hands to frame the Soldier’s face, kissing him with more enthusiasm, and the Soldier responded by slipping his tongue between the younger man's lips. “I’m alive, and I’m with you… Feel me, touch me…”

The Soldier let out a moan against the younger man's lips when he heard these commands. He obeyed without much hesitation, pressing the younger man's body against his, running his hands over his hips, his back, his thighs, all while devouring his lips like a starving man, struggling to breathe as he urgently needed to confirm that the young master was whole and with him.

“C-Cолдат…”

Helmut took a breath between kisses, but his lips were captured again by the Soldier, feeling his lover's desire manifesting in a different way. Helmut let out a moan as he felt the Soldier hold him even tighter against his body, pressing their hips together more firmly.  

The Soldier drifted down to the younger man's neck, kissing the tender skin, but Helmut softly hissed. The Soldier immediately raised his head, panicked at the thought of having hurt him, but the younger man shook his head.

“It’s sensitive, but go ahead… It’s more than bearable knowing it’s you…” He inhaled as he realized. “Bite, pinch, squeeze… If it’s you, I like it…”

The information went straight to the Soldier’s groin, and he plunged his face back into the younger man’s neck, eagerly licking the sensitive skin before sinking his teeth into it.

“Oh- aw!- Cолдат..!”

Helmut gasped from the pain, but the shock sent an entirely different sensation through his body, and he clung desperately to the Soldier’s shoulders, moaning loudly as he felt the Soldier’s hands on his hips urging him to move his pelvis.  

He felt the Soldier’s hands slide into his sweatpants, under his underwear, to firmly grasp his butt, and he shivered at the contrast between the warmth of the flesh hand and the cold of the metal one. He brought his lips close to the Soldier’s ear, gently nibbling on the lobe before whispering.

“Do you want to take me, Cолдат..?” His voice was barely a whisper, but the desire was clear.

“Y-Yes, Master…” the Soldier replied in the same tone, pressing their hips together. “I want to so badly…”

Helmut then pulled back, placing a hand in the middle of the Soldier’s chest to push him back against the headboard again. The Soldier was much stronger than him, of course, but physical strength wasn’t the point at that moment. Helmut had a power of his own, and the Soldier willingly submitted to it.  

The younger man got off the Soldier’s lap, then off the bed, to open the drawer of the small desk further in the room. He returned with a tube where the word vazelína was clearly visible.  

Had the young master planned this all along?

“I got this from my grandmother’s medicine cabinet.” He smiled, placing the tube on the bedside table right next to them. “Winter and cold can really damage the skin…” He climbed back onto the mattress, grabbing the elastic of the Soldier’s sweatpants. “But tonight… it’s going to be used for something else entirely…”

The Soldier took a deep breath as he watched the young master pull down his pants, taking his underwear with it, freeing his strained erection. It was the third time he found himself so exposed with the young Zemo, but never had he felt vulnerable or fragile with him.  

Helmut completely removed the Soldier’s clothing and licked his lips as he looked at the length in front of his eyes. He very much wanted to taste the Soldier in a different way. He looked up at him, who was watching, waiting, his lips slightly parted and his pupils dilated.  

Helmut leaned forward, wrapped his fingers around the base of the Soldier’s member, then took it into his mouth, pressing his tongue against the length.  

The Soldier suddenly inhaled sharply, loudly, as he felt the heat and the young master’s tongue sliding over his erection. He struggled not to close his eyes because he wanted to see everything, to savor this vew, to imprint it in his mind forever. He gently slid his right hand into the younger man’s soft brown hair as the latter carefully sucked, and wrapped his tongue around the length before closing his lips around it.

“H-hh… Master…”

Helmut opened his eyes to look at him. He hadn’t realized they were closed, and what a shame it would have been not to reopen them. The Soldier was magnificent, half-sitting against the headboard, his chest rising with each breath of pleasure, his lips parted, letting out warm, encouraging sighs.  

He tightened his fingers around the base, starting slow movements to accompany his head bobbing up and down, taking the Soldier as deep as he could without triggering that unpleasant gag reflex.

“Master… Prosím Please…”

Helmut closed his eyes, pressing his tongue against the slit, causing the Soldier to tighten his fingers in his hair.  

He loved it when the Soldier spoke Sokovian.  

Reluctantly, he released the Soldier’s member, breathing more deeply, then anchored his amber gaze into the Soldier’s icy one.

“ Čo chceš What do you want…?" He asked with a mischievous look, slowly moving down from the mattress to untie the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Tell me…”

“ C-Chcem sa… s vami milovať… I want to... make love with you...”

Helmut felt the adrenaline burning in his gut, and he had to force himself to take a deep breath to re-oxygenate, as his breath had momentarily caught.  

He removed the rest of his clothes before climbing back onto the bed, straddling the Soldier, both of them now naked against each other.  

The Soldier placed his hands back on his hips and let the younger man take possession of his lips in a hungry kiss.

“Cолдат…” the younger man murmured softly against his lips after breaking the kiss to breathe. “You’re going to be my first time…” he swallowed gently. “Please, be gentle with me…”

“I promise you…”

The younger man kissed him again, sealing this new trust in a kiss. Although inexperienced in the matter, he wasn’t entirely ignorant.  

Nevertheless, he released the Soldier’s lips to pull back a bit and give him the space needed to move. The Soldier then took the tube placed on the bedside table, opening it and applying a small amount to his flesh fingers.

“You need to prepare yourself, to relax…” the Soldier began in a low voice, his movements careful and deliberate, his gaze shining with kindness. The younger man nodded softly. “It might be a bit uncomfortable, but… I’ll do everything I can to make sure you enjoy it…”

“I trust you, Cолдат…”

The Soldier inhaled, deeply touched by the young master’s words, then nodded. With a gentle motion, he silently encouraged the younger man to rise onto his knees, then navigated his hand to reach the entrance. He tilted his chin up to the younger man to kiss him while inserting the first finger.  

Helmut inhaled sharply through his nose, his brows furrowing, finding the intrusion somewhat uncomfortable, but the discomfort quickly dissipated as the Soldier continued kissing him and began to slowly move his finger in and out. But the younger man knew this was only the beginning, and he broke the kiss, grimacing as he pressed his forehead against the Soldier’s when he felt the second finger enter.

“Sorry, sorry…”

“No, it’s nothing…” he let out a small laugh before kissing him again. “Keep going…”

Helmut seized his lips with more fervor, and the Soldier began to gently spread his fingers, sliding them deeper, and the younger man let out a long sigh against his mouth.  

The pain had completely subsided, and Helmut was suddenly becoming more impatient. He wanted more. He reached out to the bedside table to grab the tube of vaseline, pouring some into his hand before taking hold of the Soldier’s erection to coat it.  

The Soldier sighed with pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them and locking them onto the young master’s.  

His pupils were so dilated that the hazel color had disappeared, leaving only the deep black of pleasure. It was a silent request, and as if they were communicating by thought, the younger man rose onto his knees, the Soldier gently withdrew his fingers, and the brunet aligned the member with his entrance before slowly descending, impaling himself languidly on the length.  

A long sigh escaped the younger man’s lips as he steadied himself with his right hand on the Soldier’s metal shoulder during the descent. The Soldier rolled his eyes in pleasure, feeling the warmth and tightness of the younger man around him, both hands positioned on his hips to help him.  

Surprisingly, the discomfort quickly faded, and Helmut began to make slow up-and-down movements, his arms wrapped around the Soldier’s neck, who captured his lips between his own.  

It was even better than they could have imagined.

Helmut felt the devotion the Soldier had for him, the tenderness and care that one wouldn’t suspect at first glance. It was his first time, with a man, and it wasn’t just any man. A formidable and talented man, feared and desired, known for bringing only death, yet he had never made Helmut feel so alive.  

As for the Soldier, he couldn’t recall ever feeling such emotions and feelings for anyone before, and more troubling still, it was the first time he was making love to someone. Despite all his past experiences, he had never felt such chemistry, such harmony with someone, sharing something powerful on a level only his partner could reach and understand. It was respect, tenderness, love…

“ Máte bolesti Do you feel pain…?” the Soldier asked between kisses before moving down to the younger man’s neck.

“ Nie No,” the younger man sighed, continuing to move his hips for more contact and friction. “ Ani zďaleka Not even close…”

The Soldier wrapped his arms around the young master’s waist and suddenly flipped him onto his back, laying him flat on the mattress, and positioning himself above him.  

Helmut widened his eyes in surprise at the sudden change in position before locking his eyes back onto the Soldier’s. Of the two, he had always been the more assertive, except for that time in the shower, and seeing the Soldier towering over him, between his legs, still inside him, ignited the fire that was already consuming him even more.  

He arched his back, letting out a moan as the Soldier began to move inside him, his body pressed against his, supported by his metal arm to the right of the younger man’s head, while the other hand gripped his hip for more intensity.  

Helmut locked his leg around the Soldier’s lower back, and the angle sent a shockwave through his body, tearing a cry from him.  

The Soldier stopped immediately, raising his head to check on the younger man, worried he had hurt him, but the latter’s eyes were wide open, and his hand was covering his mouth.

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed, his cheeks flushed, and his voice muffled under his hand. “I hope no one heard me.”

“Well… I won’t lie to you…”

Helmut began to chuckle under his fingers, seeing exactly where the Soldier was going with that comment. He wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss, while wrapping his legs around his hips.

“Well, might as well…”

The Soldier captured his lips again, setting a faster pace, thrusting deeper, harder. Helmut felt the Soldier’s power resonate through his entire body, and he could no longer contain his moans and sighs. The sensation was intoxicating, unprecedented, and despite the intensity of the act, the Soldier was attentive. He kissed him, nibbled his neck, licked his skin, slid his fingers, metal or not, over his body to make him shiver, to feel him, and Helmut was on the verge of losing control.

"Cолдат..."

He straightened up on his heels, grabbing the younger man's thighs to hold him in place, continuing to penetrate him over and over, his lips parted and his face painted with lust. Helmut was truly a mess, all pretense, restraint, and elegance gone. He was nothing but moans and sighs as his body trembled from the intensity. He felt the Soldier's metal fingers wrap around his own erection, and the younger man gasped in surprise and pleasure. It was far from being cold, and much more exciting than he had imagined.

"Fuck..." He felt that warmth forming in his lower abdomen. "I-I'm gonna come, Cолдат..."

The Soldier leaned forward again to press his body against his without stopping his thrusts and strokes with his left hand, and sealed his lips to those of the young master, forcing his tongue inside. 

The Soldier felt his lower abdomen dangerously ignite when the young master came in his fingers, between their bodies, swallowing his moans of pleasure, vibrating with every fiber of his being against him. He was magnificent. He wanted him all to himself. He wanted to drive him mad, to give him pleasure, again and again. He wanted to make him happy.

The younger man caught his breath, his still head buzzing.

"Come inside me, Cолдат, please..."

The lock gave way, and the Soldier clung desperately to the young master, his face in his neck, as he came inside him with a moan of pleasure. He felt the younger man's arms gently wrap around him as he caught his breath, still dazed, slowing his movements, and nestled his face again in the crook of the young master's shoulder, eyes closed, tenderly and devotedly kissing the delicate and fragile skin under his lips.

" I love you... "

Helmut's heart skipped a beat, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He tightened his arms around the Soldier, pressing his cheek against his before taking his lips in a sincere kiss.

This man had his heart and soul.

"God… I love you too..."

Chapter Text

Only two days had passed since the Soldier's nightmare, and today, the sun was slowly setting behind the hills, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as Helmut and the Soldier returned from a walk in the woods. Their footsteps softly crunched on the gravel paths of the grandmother's property, the cool evening air soothing their spirits, but an unexpected presence shattered this tranquility: a helicopter was parked in the large garden, its blades motionless and silent.

The Soldier and the young master, both intrigued and concerned, hid behind a thick bush to observe the scene from a distance. The helicopter was a distinctive model, recognizable from a mile away. The Zemo family crest adorned the sides of the machine. Helmut's heart raced as he realized that his father had finally come here. And this did not bode well for them.

They saw the Baron step out of the grand mansion, his face dark and marked by fatigue but also by anger. The old woman, his mother, visibly disturbed, followed him with long strides. They headed towards the helicopter, their voices carrying to the hiding place of the two fugitives. The Baron, angry, addressed his mother with palpable intensity.

“You cannot hide the truth from me any longer!” he said, speaking to his mother. “HYDRA and my spies are convinced that Helmut is here. They even claim that the Soldier might be with him!”

“I’ve told you a thousand times that I don’t know where he is!” the old woman, her eyes filled with anguish, defended herself vigorously. “You hurt me by accusing me like this. If anyone knows, it’s certainly HYDRA; they are always responsible for our misfortunes!”

The Baron, visibly exasperated, stopped in his tracks and began pacing, his hands agitated, his anger mounting.

“It’s the Soldier who’s responsible for his escape! He corrupted him, implanted unhealthy ideas in his head!” He locked eyes with his mother. “If I find out you’re hiding something, I’ll send a team to search this house from top to bottom to root out these traitors!”

“How dare you threaten me, your mother, and speak like that about your own son?” she retorted, furious. “A traitor? Do you even hear yourself? How can you accuse your son of fleeing an organization that leaves only death in its wake? You’re such an ungrateful father, Heinrich. It’s your fault your son ran away, not that Soldier’s.” She shook her head. “Even if you say that man is a well-trained HYDRA assassin, what I understand is that he slipped through their fingers, that he’s not so obedient anymore. As far as I can imagine, your son has likely opened this man’s eyes, just as he managed to keep his own open. You, my son, are blind.”

The Baron clenched his fists and resumed his walk towards the helicopter. Once aboard, he turned to his mother one last time.

“You leave me no choice, mother. If my men discover your complicity, then HYDRA will have you executed.”

And the Baron slammed the door shut, the rotors beginning to spin. Within seconds, the helicopter lifted into the twilight sky and flew away, leaving behind a trail of hammering noise and whistling wind. When the aircraft was out of sight, the Soldier and Helmut cautiously emerged from their hiding place and hurried toward the house. The old woman, her face pale and her hands trembling, turned to them with palpable urgency, her eyes wide.

“You must leave immediately!” she said, panic in her voice as she quickly ushered them into the house. “Your situation is dire. A team will return here for a thorough search. Leave the house before it’s too late!”

“But what about you, Babka? If HYDRA finds out you hid us…”

“They’ll never know. I have more than one trick up my sleeve. I had to, with your grandfather. But don’t worry about me, go prepare your things!”

“But where will we go?” Helmut asked, his voice pressing, his expression fearful but determined. “I’ve only thought of this place; I don’t know where we could be safe other than here.”

Despite her anxiety, the old woman made a visible effort to remain calm and explained to them in a trembling voice, though with a wry, kind smile.

“Your father and HYDRA will conduct thorough searches here and in the immediate surroundings. Your best chance is to head back to Novi Grad, as your father told me they’ve already scoured the city. They won’t retrace their steps knowing they found nothing there.” She took a deep breath. “Hide there and try to blend in with the crowd, in the part of the city that’s still intact and lively.”

The grandmother approached the kitchen fireplace, crouched to open the trap of the flue, and pulled out a medium-sized bag. She handed the bag to her grandson, who gently unzipped it, already suspecting what was inside. Several bundles of cash were inside, along with a credit card and one of those popular Nokia mobile phones.

Helmut's eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his grandmother and moved closer to embrace her with intense emotion.

"Thank you for everything, Babka. I... I don't know what we would have done without you..."

The Soldier, moved by the touching scene, bowed his head slightly in gratitude.

"You are my grandson, Helmut, and I love you. I would do anything for you." She glanced at the Soldier. "I’m counting on you to watch over him."

"I promise you, Madam."

"Now hurry, there isn’t a minute to lose!"

The two men then rushed upstairs to quickly prepare their belongings. Their movements were precise and fast, every second counting as they gathered their few possessions and tried to leave the place as neutral as possible to make things easier for the old woman.

Once ready, they said their goodbyes to the grandmother in long and powerful embraces, even the Soldier received a hug from the old woman.

Reluctantly, but driven by adrenaline, they then left the house, heading towards the spot where the Soldier had hidden his motorcycle in one of the sheds at the property’s entrance. The motorcycle, well concealed under a cover, was quickly uncovered and prepared for departure.

Helmut, still gripped by a mix of anxiety and determination, slung his bag over his back, just as during their first journey, and climbed onto the motorcycle behind the Soldier. Without further delay, they started the engine, the roar of the machine breaking the evening silence.

“To Novi Grad…”

The Soldier nodded, and with unwavering focus, maneuvered the motorcycle onto the road, casting one last glance at the house in the rearview mirror. He would miss this place, and he hoped the young master’s grandmother would be alright.

Speed carried them into the falling night, and nearly a hundred kilometers later, as the city lights emerged in the darkness, hope and fear mingled in the hearts of the two lovers. They knew that despite the old woman’s assurance, Novi Grad was still a risky city. HYDRA was closer, as was the manor, and danger could descend upon them at any moment. But it was the only place they could go for now, and laying low was the only option.

The young Zemo and the Soldier made their way through the streets of Novi Grad, to the other side of the city where the scars of the civil war were barely visible. The building facades were in good condition, shop windows glowed under neon lights, and the air carried an unexpected warmth for a mid-March evening. People strolled cheerfully, absorbed in their evening routines, completely oblivious to the conflict raging on the other side of the capital.

The Soldier, under a cap and a large sweatshirt, and the young master, hidden under a hood and a wide coat, moved cautiously, their ordinary appearance rendering them nearly invisible in the vibrant crowd. They carefully avoided prying eyes, their ears attuned to any sound that might betray their presence. The younger man wasn’t exactly a celebrity in Sokovia, but some might recognize him, and it was unthinkable to reveal his name to anyone.

“We need to find a place to spend the night,” Helmut murmured, scanning the surroundings. “Somewhere we can rest without drawing attention.”

The Soldier nodded in agreement, his eyes moving with discreet vigilance. They walked a few more streets, passing by hotels and inns, but these establishments were either too exposed or clearly out of their budget, and they needed to avoid attracting attention by renting a room in a four star hotel. Finally, they found a small, discreet inn set back from the street, which seemed like the perfect place to stay out of sight.

As they entered the inn, the pleasant smell of polished wood and fresh soap greeted them. The owner, a middle-aged man with glasses and a kind smile, greeted them politely from behind the counter. After a brief conversation and a quick exchange of money, they received a key to a room on the first floor.

Once inside their room, young Zemo and the Soldier let out a sigh of relief. The room was modest but clean, with a small window overlooking a quiet alley and a double bed with slightly wrinkled sheets. They removed their coats, and the Soldier immediately began inspecting the room for any hidden bugs.

After a few minutes, finding nothing alarming, they both collapsed onto the bed, a mix of exhaustion and relief evident on their faces.

"It looks like we’ve finally found a safe place," the young master murmured, sinking into the cushions. "At least, for now..."

The Soldier, sitting on the edge of the bed, removed his cap and looked at the younger man with an unusual tenderness. The tension that had accumulated over the past hours seemed to be slowly dissipating now that they found themselves in this temporary shelter. He turned towards him, and a small, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"We’ve earned a rest tonight," the Soldier replied, his voice filled with relief. "I hope your grandmother doesn’t get into trouble..."

"She’s resourceful, don’t worry about her," Helmut replied, though doubt still lingered in his mind.

The young master moved gently closer to the Soldier, and the two men found themselves lying side by side on the bed. Their bodies, exhausted but warmed by each other's proximity, seemed to find refuge in the shared warmth. 

Night had now fully settled over the city, and with the curfew approaching, the streets were gradually emptying. Through the small window, the city lights twinkled softly, a comforting contrast to the shadows of chaos on the other side of the city.

Helmut, his face against the pillow, turned slightly to face the Soldier.

"Thank you for being with me," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing against the Soldier’s.

The Soldier, with his eyes closed, opened one to look at the young master. His response was a soft murmur, almost a whisper.

"It’s me who should be thanking you..." He smiled slightly. "But I’ll do everything I can to stay by your side..."

"You say that as if this will all end one day..."

"We have to be realistic..." He took a deep breath, gently caressing the younger man’s fingers. "Happiness... never lasts... Not for me..."

"I hope you’re wrong..."

They cuddled up to each other, the warmth of their bodies providing a comforting sense of security after the trials they had endured. They remained like that, lost in the calm of the room, letting the night envelop them, allowing their worries to temporarily fade away.

In the morning, the soft light of the sun slowly filtered through the curtains, heralding a new day. Helmut was the first to open his eyes. He lay still for a moment, enjoying the comforting warmth of the Soldier beside him. It was a rare, almost precious feeling to wake up without the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.

But reality quickly set in. A slight movement from the Soldier pulled Helmut out of his thoughts. The man, ever vigilant, already had his eyes open, scanning the room with a calculating gaze. Even in this moment of calm, he remained on high alert, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger.

"Did you sleep well?" Helmut murmured, his voice soft and still a bit sleepy.

The Soldier nodded, a faint smile on his lips.

"As well as one can in our situation," he replied gently. "But we must stay cautious. We can’t remain here for too long."

Helmut nodded, aware of the weight of his words. Every minute spent in Novi Grad posed a risk. They needed to move quickly, to find a plan to hide more effectively. But where to go? The question hung in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

"I’ve been thinking about something," Helmut said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled in. "The city of Novi Grad is vast. If we stay here, we’ll need to blend in more, maybe change our appearance, find new identities. I know someone here, an old acquaintance who has helped me before and has known my family for a long time... Maybe he could help us."

The Soldier raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this suggestion. Relying on someone else carried risks, but they had few options. If they remained alone, their chances of escaping HYDRA dwindled with each passing day.

"Do you think we can trust him?" he asked cautiously.

"If he hasn’t already revealed my terrible secret to my father, then I think we have a chance," Helmut replied, a hint of determination in his voice. "This man has often helped me in the past... because of..." He tilted his head. "My preferences, let’s say... If he’s still in business, he’ll know what to do to help us disappear."

The Soldier remained silent for a moment, weighing the options. Finally, he sat up, making a decision.

"Then let’s go see him. But let’s do it discreetly. We need to stay as invisible as possible."

Helmut nodded, relieved that the Soldier accepted his idea. They got up from the bed and quickly prepared to leave the inn before anyone could notice their presence. Despite HYDRA's sweep of the area, they couldn't be certain that some people hadn't been recruited to alert the organization if they were spotted on the streets.

A few minutes later, they were outside, their bags on their backs, walking through the narrow, winding alleys of Novi Grad. The city was still quiet, with most residents not yet emerging from their homes. The morning sun gently warmed the air, contrasting with the palpable tension between the two men.

After several detours and a few cautious checks to ensure they weren't being followed, they finally arrived in front of a discreet shop, wedged between two dilapidated buildings. The storefront was dusty, the curtains drawn, and a sign indicated that the establishment was closed. Helmut hesitated for a moment before knocking three times on the wooden door.

A long moment of silence passed, during which Helmut felt his heart beat a little faster, wondering if the man was actually there. Then, slowly, the door opened to reveal an old man with gray hair and round glasses, who eyed them with a wary expression.

"Helmut..." he murmured, immediately recognizing the young man. "What are you doing here? It’s dangerous..."

"I know, Aleksandr," Helmut replied, trying to stay calm. "But I need your help. It’s a matter of life and death."

The man glanced quickly at the Soldier, his gaze hardening slightly as he wondered who he might be. But after a brief hesitation, he stepped aside to let them in.

"Very well," he said, quickly closing the door behind them. "Tell me what you need, and we’ll see what I can do. But don’t expect miracles; times have changed since the war broke out..."

Helmut exchanged a glance with the Soldier before turning back to Aleksandr.

"I'm not asking for a miracle. Just a chance to disappear... for good."

Chapter Text

Aleksandr, still wary, moved towards the back of the shop. He gestured for the younger man and the Soldier to follow him into a small, cramped room, dimly lit by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Stacks of papers, old books, and dusty bindings cluttered the space, a testament to the clandestine activities that had been carried out here for years.

Helmut stood close to the Soldier, his eyes scanning the room with a hint of nostalgia. He remembered this room perfectly and the moment when Aleksandr had provided him with his first false identity. Back then, it was a matter of discretion for frequenting clubs and places he couldn’t visit as a member of the Zemo family. Today, the stakes were much higher.

Aleksandr, silent and focused, turned on another desk lamp, revealing a workspace cluttered with tools and various equipment. He pulled out an old modified typewriter and a Polaroid camera, then turned to the Soldier, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose.

“Is it for him that you need new papers?” he asked, pointing at the Soldier, a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Yes,” Helmut replied, nodding. “I don’t need new documents. You already created a false identity for me a few years ago. It held up well, no one questioned it.”

Aleksandr nodded, seemingly satisfied with this information, but his attention quickly focused on the Soldier.

“Very well,” he said, his voice becoming firmer. “To create new papers, I first need some more information. We need to create a credible persona. The identity I give you must withstand any verification.”

The Soldier, until now silent, nodded. He knew this step was crucial for their survival. Aleksandr pulled out a blank sheet, ready to jot down the details.

“Your real name doesn’t matter here. What interests me is how you want your new self to appear. Name, age, profession—anything that might be useful.”

The Soldier hesitated for a moment, glancing at the young master, who gave him an encouraging nod. He had never really thought about who he could be outside of the identity given to him by HYDRA. He couldn’t say his name was Winter; it was far too close to the truth. If only he could remember who he had been…

“I don’t want it to be too far from reality but not too close either,” the Soldier began, his deep voice resonating softly in the room.

“Something simple,” the younger man added to help the Soldier. “No need to create a story that's too complicated.”

Aleksandr nodded, understanding the need to remain discreet but not arouse too much suspicion either.

“Alright. We’ll keep it basic.” Aleksandr scribbled a few words on the sheet. “Name?”

The Soldier thought for a moment, closing his eyes, trying to find traces, an echo of his former identity deep within him. But nothing came back. He was just a blank slate, with traces of chalk still visible but offering no chance of understanding what had once been written.

He sighed, then opened his eyes again, a glimmer of despair in his gaze.

“Do you have a list of commonly used names, Aleksandr?” Helmut asked, seeing that the Soldier was struggling to find inspiration. “Maybe that would help my friend figure out which one suits him best.”

“Yes, of course.”

The old man pulled out a notebook in which many names were listed by hand, written with a fountain pen. The Soldier gently took the notebook in his fingers to start reading, and the old man slowly backed away towards his desk, noticing the metal of the Soldier’s fingers glinting faintly under the dim light of the lamp.

“There are…” The man cleared his throat. “It’s organized by nationality. The first section is American English names.”

The Soldier nodded and moved aside a bit to immerse himself in the reading.  

Jacob, Michael, Matthew, Joshua, Nicholas …  

He shook his head. None of these names inspired him; he didn’t feel any connection to them. He continued reading.  

William, Justin, James . He frowned.  

James . He stopped abruptly, staring at the name. It felt strangely familiar, a sensation both unsettling and comforting, yet also disturbing, like a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. He frowned, trying to dig deeper into his memory.  

But nothing came. The name lingered, suspended in his mind, with no image to accompany it. He continued reading.  

Samuel, Jordan, Hunter, Steven.  

The name “Steven” triggered an instant reaction in the Soldier. He froze, the notebook trembling slightly in his hand, a thing that never happened with his metal hand. Something buried deep within him began to resurface, like a drowned memory desperately trying to break through.  

A flash hit him, brutal and intense. He saw himself younger, walking down a busy street alongside a slender, blonde boy. The young man beside him was laughing at something he had just said, his light voice resonating in the warm summer air. The blonde was wearing a jacket too big for him, his fair hair shining like wheat in the sun. There was something comforting and familiar about this face, something that stirred a long-forgotten warmth within him.

“Steve…” he murmured without even realizing it, the word escaping his lips like a breath.

Was he... the Steve Rumlow had mentioned? Had the Soldier desperately called out to this young man while HYDRA was breaking him down?  

But the memory vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving behind only a painful void and a sense of loss.  

And then, everything shifted.  

Another memory surged forward, violent and brutal. He felt himself falling into the void, cold air whipping against his face, the ground disappearing beneath his feet, and adrenaline burning through his veins at the realization of his imminent death. He saw the blonde young man again, but this time he was stronger and more determined, hanging off the side of a train, his muscles straining in a desperate effort to catch him. And he… He was falling, endlessly falling, the image of the blonde burning into his memory like a silent scream, growing more distant with each passing second. The mountain, the cold, the snow, the void… everything swirled together in a vortex of terror.  

The Soldier gripped the notebook in his hand, his breathing quickening slightly. He didn’t understand where this flash came from, but he knew this name held a particular significance, an importance he couldn’t fully grasp. It was terrifying.  

Helmut, who had been watching the Soldier’s every reaction closely, approached slowly, his eyes showing genuine concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, noticing the distress in his lover’s eyes.

It took the Soldier a moment to respond, his thoughts still clouded by the flashback. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure. Had he really fallen from a train? If that was the case, it would explain his fear for them.

“I... I’m not sure,” he finally admitted, his voice trembling with an emotion he didn’t recognize. “This name… Steven… it reminds me of someone, I think, but I don’t really know who…”

“Is it the same Steve you’ve mentioned to me before?”

“I don’t know…”

Aleksandr, who had been silently watching everything, stepped forward.

“Maybe you could use it, if you’d like?”

The Soldier looked again at the name written in the notebook. Steven. Just seeing it written in front of him stirred something inside him, a kind of familiar resonance, though he couldn’t understand its origin.  

But he slowly shook his head. He knew this name didn’t belong to him, and he couldn’t risk having violent flashbacks if someone called him by it.

"No," he finally said, his voice more assured. "Steven... that’s not me." He looked at the name just before it and realized it suited him better. "Hunter, I’ll take that one." He paused. "Hunter White."

Aleksandr smiled and wrote down the first and last name on the paper, while Helmut placed a reassuring hand on the Soldier's shoulder.

"That’s a good choice," the young master murmured with a small smile. "It feels right, appropriate, and in some way, that name reflects who you are. Not too close to reality, but not too far either."

"Good," Aleksandr murmured as he noted the name. "Age?"

"Um... thirty?" the Soldier replied, his tone hesitant, unsure of his exact age.

"Profession ?" Aleksandr asked, looking up at him. "It won’t be on your ID, but it will help add credibility to your new identity."

"Former military. Now... a private chauffeur," he responded after a moment of reflection, realizing that this profession could justify his frequent travel and driving skills while keeping him relatively under the radar.

Aleksandr nodded in approval.

"That’s perfect. It’s a job that doesn’t attract much attention but remains credible." He jotted down the information before turning to the younger man. "Any additional details? A place of birth, perhaps?"

Helmut thought for a moment.

"With an identity like that, it’s best if you were born in the United States, Cол—Hunter."

"I’m familiar with New York, especially Long Island."

The young master looked at him for a moment, wondering what mission the Soldier might have carried out for HYDRA in Long Island. It was the first time he learned that the Soldier had been to the United States, aside from knowing that he was indeed originally from the country. But if the Soldier knew the area, it made it all the more credible.

"Then it’ll be Long Island, New York, United States of America," Helmut replied, a hint of curiosity shining in his eyes as he continued to observe the Soldier.

Aleksandr smiled slightly, appreciating the coherence of the profile taking shape. He then stood up and walked over to an old metal cabinet, from which he retrieved a worn briefcase. Opening it, he revealed several stamps, blank passports, and miniature printers, all neatly organized.  

He quickly took a photo of the Soldier with the Polaroid, then attached it to a blank passport before starting to fill in the pages.

"Hunter White," he murmured as he filled out the information. "Born on November 17, 1969, in Long Island, New York, United States of America..."

Helmut watched Aleksandr work with surgical precision. Every stamp, every signature seemed effortless, like a gesture repeated hundreds of times. In just a few minutes, a legitimate American passport was completed. He then added an ID card, a driver’s license, and a few other documents necessary to solidify Hunter White's identity.  

After thoroughly checking everything one last time, Aleksandr handed the papers to the Soldier.

"There. It’s all here. Use them wisely. They should pass any standard checks, but it’s best to avoid overusing them, especially outside of Sokovia."

The Soldier took the documents, looking at them with a silent intensity.

"Thank you," he whispered, knowing that these fake papers were now his only guarantee of survival.

Aleksandr then turned to the young master.

"Now that this is done, you know I have to erase any trace of your presence here. You were never here, understood?"

"Understood. We won’t cause you any trouble," Helmut replied with a nod, fully aware of the importance of this discretion.

The old man nodded before guiding them to the exit.

“Then leave quickly and be careful. Novi Grad may be vast, but they say a ghost preys on the weak when night falls, especially near the conflict zone.”

The Soldier said nothing but understood that the old man was referring to him and his nocturnal activities when he was still carrying out Strucker's orders for the experiments at the Fortress.

They exited the shop, the Soldier slipping the new papers into his jacket while the younger man gave him a knowing look. They both knew this was just the beginning, and more challenges awaited them, but for now, they had a chance to stay hidden a little longer.

“So, what do you want us to do now, Hunter?” the younger man asked, hands in his pockets and a sly smile on his face.

“ Пирожки? Pirozhki” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and the younger man laughed.

“Let’s go eat some Пирожки Pirozhki then.”

Helmut and the Soldier headed toward the city center, their footsteps echoing on the uneven cobblestones of Novi Grad. The sky was overcast today, enveloping the city in a cool shadow, as if it wanted to hide their presence from prying eyes.

They walked in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. The morning chill left a slight shiver on their skin, but it was a cold they were used to. Sokovia wasn’t a place for the faint-hearted, and Helmut, though young, knew that all too well. He glanced at the Soldier, whose face remained impassive despite the internal turmoil he knew was there.

They soon arrived at a small park, a quiet place where worn wooden benches were arranged around a fountain. The place was deserted at this hour, except for a few wandering figures—insignificant shadows that wouldn’t even notice them. Helmut approached a kiosk at the park’s entrance, where an old man was selling freshly made Пирожки Pirozhki, their tempting apple aroma drifting through the morning air.

“Two, please,” Helmut said, pulling out some bills from his pocket, paying quickly before returning to the Soldier, who had sat down on a bench, his gaze fixed on the fountain.

The young master handed him one of the buns, warm and comforting in the cool air. The Soldier took it without a word, but a slight smile appeared on his lips, a smile that only the younger man could notice.

They ate in silence for a moment, savoring the simplicity of the moment. It was a rare moment of peace in their world filled with chaos and danger. Helmut observed his lover, searching for the right moment to bring up the topic that had been bothering him since they left Aleksandr’s shop.

Finally, he decided to speak.

“Hunter,” he began softly, careful not to startle his companion. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the forger’s… That flashback you had, that name, ‘Steven.’ Who is he really to you?”

The Soldier lowered his eyes to his Пирожок. Pirozhok.

, holding it in his hands without really paying attention to it. He remained silent for a moment, searching for the words to express what he felt, what he didn’t even fully understand himself.

“I’m not really sure,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with confusion. “That name... Steve... It brings up vague memories, images that come and disappear before I can grasp them. It’s like a part of me knows him, but that part is buried so deep that I can’t reach it.”

“Like trying to remember a fleeting dream after waking up…”

“Something like that…” He frowned. “But… I can see a man… a young man… Scrawny, blond with blue eyes, smiling…” He remembered the train incident. “But… After that… He’s so different, and yet I know it’s him too…” He bit his lip. “But I don’t know who he is to me…”

Helmut nodded, respecting the Soldier’s struggle and his inability to pinpoint who this Steve really was.

“And that memory of Long Island? You mentioned you had been there. Do you remember why?”

The Soldier took a deep breath, trying to piece together the fragments of memory floating in his mind.

“It was a very important mission in 1991, to retrieve some serums.” He paused. A force deep within him screamed at him to stay silent, but he knew it was just the result of his conditioning. “But I don’t remember the details. I just know that the serums I brought back were used to create other Winter Soldiers, who turned out wrong.”

Silence fell between them again, only broken by the sound of the fountain and the whisper of the wind in the trees. Helmut understood that the Soldier was fighting against his past, against the fragments of memories that refused to be captured, and against the conditioning HYDRA had forced upon him.

He knew the Soldier wasn’t telling him everything.

“You know,” the younger man said softly, placing a hand on the Soldier’s shoulder, “no matter what you were or what you did under their influence… What matters is who you choose to become now. And to me, you’re a man fighting for his freedom who deserves a chance to live in peace. Hunter or not.”

The Soldier looked up at the young master, moved by his words. Since meeting the young Zemo, his life had completely changed, and for the better, even though the road was fraught with challenges.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Helmut smiled, his gaze filled with warmth.

They remained there, sitting side by side on that park bench, savoring their Пирожки Pirozhki and the peaceful silence of the overcast morning, two lost souls seeking to rebuild themselves in a world that seemed determined to break them at every turn. But together, they were stronger, and that was all they needed to keep going.

Chapter Text

Night had long fallen, wrapping Novi Grad in a dense darkness, interrupted only by the flickering streetlights that cast weak illumination on the deserted streets. A curfew had been imposed, and the city had withdrawn into itself, each citizen remaining shut indoors, patiently waiting for dawn. But for the Soldier and young Zemo, the night provided a rare moment of respite, a bubble of tranquility in their modest hotel room.

They were sitting cross-legged on the double bed, the worn fabric of the sheets and the faded wallpaper of the walls not bothering them in the least. In front of them, a small wooden table held a tray of steaming hot dogs and a mountain of golden fries—their evening meal, simple but comforting. The flickering light of the television cast shifting shadows in the room, where an episode of " The Dick Van Dyke Show " played in the background. Yet, neither of them was paying much attention to the screen, too absorbed in their conversation and the food.

The Soldier, his face relaxed, almost at peace, took a bite of his hot dog with visible relish. A light smile appeared on his lips as he savored the first bite. Helmut, who was attentively observing every expression on his lover’s face, couldn’t help but smile upon seeing the Soldier so pleasantly surprised by the simple dish.

“It’s incredible,” the Soldier said after swallowing, his voice filled with sincerity. “It’s so good… I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything this good… since, well, ever.”

Helmut let out a chuckle before taking a bite of his own hot dog, forgetting all manners and etiquette as he spoke with his mouth full.

“Really? I never would have guessed you’d be such a fan of a simple hot dog.”

The Soldier nodded, his gaze drifting for a moment as if trying to grasp an elusive memory.

“This taste… it feels familiar, but it’s not connected to… my years with HYDRA. It’s something else, something older, something... sweeter.”

The younger man felt a spark of hope ignite within him. Since they had been together, he had often tried to encourage the Soldier to remember his past, to reclaim fragments of the man he had been before becoming the Winter Soldier. And now, perhaps, a door was beginning to open.

“Do you remember something?” the young master asked gently, not wanting to push too hard. “What does this taste remind you of? Try to focus on that feeling.”

The Soldier took another bite, chewing slowly, as if hoping that each flavor would guide him to another time. His brow furrowed slightly, and he closed his eyes, letting the memories come to him.

“A fair,” he finally said, his voice tinged with surprise. “It reminds me of a fair… I can almost smell the… cotton candy, hear the sounds of the rides… There were stalls with hot dogs, and… and balloons. Lights everywhere, children laughing…”

Helmut listened attentively, his heart beating a bit faster at hearing these snippets of memory. He could see the wonder in the Soldier’s eyes, as if he were suddenly transported to another life—a life where he was not a soldier or a weapon, but simply a man, experiencing moments of carefree joy.

“It’s amazing,” the Soldier murmured, his voice filled with an emotion he didn’t fully understand. “This sensation… this wonder… It was so... joyful. Without this stimulus, I wouldn’t even have been able to describe the smell of cotton candy, let alone talk about it, because I’ve never eaten it...” He rolled his eyes. “At least, not in this life.”

Helmut smiled, but this time it was a tender, almost fragile smile. He was so happy to see the Soldier reconnect with a part of himself, even if it was just a small spark.

“So, you seemed to have had a rather normal childhood or adolescence, then,” the young man said softly, leaning a bit closer, dipping a fry into a small dish of ketchup.

The Soldier nodded, but did not add anything more. The memory, though comforting, remained vague, like a dream on the verge of fading away. Helmut, for his part, felt that it might be a good time to share a bit of his own past. He took a fry, ate it slowly, and then spoke again, his tone softer, more reflective.

“I also have childhood memories… memories that sometimes feel distant, almost unreal.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I never had fairs or carnivals. I had galas and charity events. My childhood was... different. As the son of a baron, I had everything I wanted, materially speaking. But it was... empty, in a way.”

The Soldier listened in silence, setting aside his hot dog to fully concentrate on what the young master was sharing. He was curious to learn more about him.

“I remember that, when I was young, my mother, Hilda, was everything to me. She was a gentle, kind woman. She meant a lot to me.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “But... she was often ill. When I was eight, it worsened. My father said it was a disease that was eating her from the inside, but I never really knew what it was. And… she died shortly after.”

He lowered his eyes, his fingers idly playing with a fry.

“For a long time, I resented my father and the doctors for not knowing what her illness was and for not being able to save her.” He sighed. “I was young, I didn’t understand why she had to suffer so much, and even today, it’s a bittersweet feeling.” He shrugged as he ate another fry. “As you already know, my father was often absent, caught up in his responsibilities. So, after my mother’s death, he made no more effort for me, even though he cherished me by saying I was his only son and heir.” He gave a small laugh. “It wasn’t affection, just a means to achieve his ends. As always…”

“I would have loved to meet your mother…”

“So would I…” Helmut smiled, his eyes shining with emotion. “But… you’ve already met my grandmother. She took over as a mother after that, and without her, I don’t know what I would have become.” He gave a tender smile. “She and Oeznik mean a lot to me. They both gave me so much.”

The Soldier could sense the sadness in the young master’s voice, that old pain that still resonated within him despite the years that had passed. He gently placed a hand over Helmut’s, a simple gesture but filled with comfort.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a proper childhood,” he said sincerely. “Maybe… we could try to remedy that?”

“What would you suggest?” Helmut asked, lifting his eyes to meet the Soldier’s gaze.

“Perhaps we could visit a fair or a carnival?”

The young man smiled and then began to laugh softly.

“The curfew has been imposed…” he smiled tenderly. “And it would be risky to expose ourselves like that.”

“I don’t think so,” the Soldier replied, shaking his head. “People need to distract themselves and laugh now more than ever. There will be crowds, and what better way to hide a tree in the middle of a forest?” He locked eyes with the young master, who looked at him with fascination. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the local carnival, near the old theater. What do you think?”

They remained there, their hands touching gently, sharing this moment of vulnerability and complicity. Eventually, Helmut nodded, a smile spreading across his lips. The Soldier responded softly to the smile, his eyes slightly gleaming with satisfaction.

The television continued to play its episode in the background, but neither of them seemed to pay it any attention.

“You know,” the young master said finally with a smile, pulling his hand away to continue eating his hot dog, “you’re right. Sometimes, the simplest things are really the best.”

“Yes, sometimes, that’s all we need.”

And for that evening, that simplicity was more than enough.

After finishing their meal, the Soldier got up to clear the tray, while the young Zemo stretched and slipped under the worn-out sheets. He watched the Soldier quietly put away the dinner leftovers, a slight smile on his lips. It was rare to see him so relaxed, almost serene.

When the Soldier finished, he joined the younger man in bed, settling comfortably beside him. Helmut, without a word, moved closer, curling up against his powerful chest. The Soldier wrapped a protective arm around him, and they stayed like that for a while, watching television without really paying attention to what was on the screen.

Helmut felt incredibly safe in the Soldier's arms, as if nothing could reach them as long as they were together. He looked up at him, his gaze filled with tenderness and something deeper, more intimate. Without a word, he leaned slightly forward, pressing his lips against the Soldier's in a soft, lingering kiss, savoring the sweetness and warmth of his lips. The Soldier responded with unexpected delicacy, his fingers gently caressing the young man's back. The television, the outside world, everything seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace.

The kiss grew more passionate, their breathing quickening as their bodies pressed even closer. Helmut slid his hands under the Soldier's shirt, exploring his skin and muscles, while the Soldier tenderly caressed the young man's sides, exploring every curve with a mix of desire and respect.

Quickly, their clothes fell to the floor, their movements becoming more urgent, more filled with desire, seeking to touch each other more. The Soldier pulled the younger man closer, their bodies pressing against each other, the contact of their bare skin intensifying every sensation. Their kisses became more intense, the young man's hands gripping the Soldier's shoulders as he felt his heart beating faster, every fiber of his being resonating in harmony with his lover's.

Feeling the impatience rise, the young man grabbed the tube of Vaseline from the bag beside the bed and locked eyes with the Soldier before handing him the tube. Within moments, the room was filled with sighs and whispers, soft words exchanged as the Soldier carefully prepared the young man, who was lying on his back, his chest rising with the intense sensations and shocks of pleasure from the Soldier's fingers inside him. After just a few minutes, with the fingers coming and going to relax him, the young man's burning gaze locked onto the Soldier's, and the agreement was communicated without a word.

Helmut wanted something more intense than their first time; he liked feeling the Soldier's strength, he liked it when he took control. So he moved onto his knees to face the Soldier, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss while grasping his length between his fingers and masturbating him vigorously, making the Soldier moan as he rested his forehead against the young man's shoulder.

" Fuck me ."

The Soldier whined, and the younger man nibbled at the Soldier's ear, then pulled back to lock eyes with him before turning around and positioning himself on all fours. The Soldier's heart skipped a beat at the sight and grabbed the young man's rear in his hands, pressing the cheeks gently before leaning in and biting into the flesh. Helmut let out a cry of surprise before starting to chuckle, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He grabbed the pillow, stifling a moan into the fabric as he still felt the Soldier's fingers penetrating him again.

His moans grew louder as the fingers bent and pressed on that very sensitive area, and Helmut was about to curse to stop that sweet torture when the fingers finally withdrew, leaving a feeling of emptiness inside him. But the Soldier did not want to make him wait; unable to resist his own desire any longer, he coated his length with Vaseline and gently pushed into the younger man.

Helmut clutched the pillow and the sheets as he felt the intrusion much more substantial than the fingers, rolling his eyes as he felt it slide in so easily. It was a position where he unfortunately couldn't really see the Soldier, but feeling him behind him, inside him, towering over him, his hands on his hips, was an incredible sensation.

The Soldier began his slow thrusts, sinking a little deeper each time, the tightness and warmth of the young man sending a powerful shiver through him. As his thrusts grew more intense, his metal hand slid between the young man's shoulder blades to pin his chest against the bed, exposing him further and offering a more intense angle.

“ Hhh-fuck… ”

The Soldier knew it. He was aware of the best positions for optimal sensations and knew that the feeling of submission and the prostate stimulation with each thrust in this position would make the young master see stars.

At this point, the younger man was nothing but moans and sighs, not holding back from letting a few vocal outbursts escape into the pillow. 

The Soldier was beginning to lose his composure. His thrusts were erratic and uneven, his sighs mixed with grunts he couldn't suppress. 

Helmut suddenly widened his eyes as he felt his own cum leak from his erection even though he hadn't climaxed yet.

“Hh-hh!” He rolled his eyes, clutching the pillow. “Hha..! Cол-дат..!”

The Soldier lifted his metal hand to hold onto the young man's hip and grabbed his length with his other hand, masturbating him. Helmut gasped with pleasure and almost immediately came between the Soldier’s fingers with long sighs and groans. With his cheek pressed against the pillow, lips slightly parted and eyes shining, Helmut mouthed silent words, and the Soldier came inside him with a long groan, gripping his hips.

Time seemed to stand still, the entire universe reduced to that moment of pure intimacy and connection between them. Their gazes locked into each other’s, both out of breath, until exhaustion eventually forced them apart to lie down together, their bodies finally eased by the passionate embrace.

“Fuck… That was…” the young master was out of breath. “Incredible…”

“Yeah…” the Soldier smiled before holding the young man against him and kissing him. “Incredible…”

They fell asleep in each other's arms, their limbs entwined, minds at peace, completely forgetting the outside world.

Later that night, calm had settled over the room. Helmut was curled up against the Soldier, his head resting on his chest, his fingers absently tracing circles on his skin, while the Soldier, eyes half-closed, enjoyed this rare moment of peace.

But the silence of the night was abruptly broken by a distant, but distinct sound: gunfire echoed from somewhere in Novi Grad.

The Soldier straightened up suddenly, every sense on high alert. Helmut also jolted, casting a worried glance at him. The two men exchanged a look, the softness of the previous moment already forgotten, replaced by sharp vigilance.

The Soldier quickly got up, heading toward the window to try to discern what was happening outside. Helmut's heart raced with apprehension. The night, which had been their refuge, now seemed to be filled with dangers once again.

“What do you see?” asked the younger man, his voice low.

The Soldier squinted, peering into the darkened city.

“It’s hard to say… but it’s coming from the east, near the working-class neighborhoods.” He turned his gaze back to the young master, his eyes cold and determined once more. “The raids have probably resumed.”

Helmut sat up as well, his mind already working on the situation.

“We’re safe here for now,” the Soldier said, his voice softer now. “Unfortunately, the noise might keep us awake for a bit.”

“Does that mean there’s still a recovery team working?”

The Soldier frowned, thinking, then eventually nodded. The absence of the Soldier must have made their task harder, but they had started without him, and they could very well continue, even if Anya had been injured.

The Soldier joined the young master in the sheets and couldn’t help but reflect on what they had shared earlier that evening, despite the worry caused by the gunfire.

It was this thought that reminded him that, despite the dangers and the alarming situation they were in, they were a unit, and stronger together.

But silently, he simply hoped that the Harvest team wouldn't make their way to them.

Chapter Text

The next afternoon, under a clear blue sky, the Soldier and the young master headed towards the carnival set up near the old theater in Novi Grad. Despite the light atmosphere of the place, a slight tension hung between them. They tried to appear natural, walking side by side and blending into the lively crowd without drawing attention.

Helmut, despite some anxiety, had stars in his eyes. The carnival unfolded before them in all its splendor: colorful lights, towering rides, and laughter resonating in the air. It was a captivating sight, and he couldn’t help but smile, fascinated by the excitement around him.

The Soldier, on the other hand, attentively observed every detail, his sharp senses scanning for any anomalies. However, he felt strangely at ease amidst the crowd, being swept away by the joyful energy surrounding him. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time, almost… human.

They began their visit to the carnival by strolling through the game stalls and attractions. Helmut pointed out various attractions, his curiosity seeming endless. He was particularly drawn to the rides, marveling at the swift movements of the roller coasters and the bursts of laughter that emanated from them.

The Soldier, for his part, tried to understand this fascination. But seeing the young master’s face light up with each new discovery, he couldn’t help but feel an unusual warmth in his chest.

After wandering through several stalls, they stopped at a cotton candy stand. The younger one, with a mischievous smile, requested a large pink cotton candy for both of them. The Soldier looked at the enormous fluffy cloud with a certain perplexity. He had never seen anything so strange, even despite the brief memory he had recently.

The young master tore off a piece of the cotton candy and handed it to the Soldier, an encouraging smile on his lips. The Soldier hesitated, then gently took the piece. As soon as the sugar melted on his tongue, he felt an explosion of sweetness, accompanied by an unexpected wave of pleasure. His eyes slightly squinted, and Helmut, delighted, burst into laughter at the Soldier's reaction.

"Do you like it?" the younger one asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The Soldier nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips.

"It’s… unexpected," he replied, before taking another piece of cotton candy.

They continued to wander around the carnival, sharing the cotton candy between them. As they ventured further into the alleys, they allowed themselves to be carried away by the festive atmosphere. Helmut then suggested going on a ride, a colorful carousel turning slowly to the rhythm of lively music.

The Soldier agreed, though slightly wary, and they took their seats on two wooden horses side by side. As the carousel began to move, the Soldier experienced an unusual sense of lightness. He even found himself smiling as Helmut, with his infectious enthusiasm, threw his arms in the air and laughed like a child.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a similar manner. They tried several rides, ventured into a haunted house, and had fun throwing balls at targets to win prizes. 

Although the younger one was skilled, the Soldier won all the prizes, hitting the mark every time. At the end of each game, the Soldier and the young master gave their rewards to the first children who passed by, much to their delight. Seeing their eyes sparkle and their laughter fill the air brought a sense of inner peace to both men that they hadn't expected.

With each new experience, the two men found themselves laughing together, sharing moments of camaraderie they had never imagined possible. The Soldier, who had always been accustomed to rigor and discipline, discovered with amazement a lighter side of life, shared with the young master. As for Helmut, he was overjoyed to experience this with the Soldier, to see this hardened man allow himself moments of simple happiness.

Night was beginning to fall when the two men finally left the carnival, accompanied by a feeling of contentment. They knew that reality and danger awaited them outside, but for a brief moment, they had been able to escape, laugh, and share something precious.

The Soldier and the young master walked quickly through the dark streets of Novi Grad, hurrying to return to their hotel room before curfew. The atmosphere was tense, each step echoing on the wet cobblestones as they tried not to attract attention. The lights of the carnival faded behind them, replaced by the increasingly sinister shadows of the buildings as they approached their destination.

Suddenly, Helmut, lost in thought, bumped violently into someone on the sidewalk with his shoulder. The jolt caused the person to stagger, nearly falling. Panicked, Helmut quickly turned to apologize, extending a hand to help the stranger up.

" Ups, prepáč— Oops, sorr—" he began, before freezing.

Before him stood a young blonde woman with green eyes, her face marked by surprise and recognition.

It was Rebecca, one of the servants from the Zemo manor. Helmut's eyes widened with shock and fear. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, they stared at each other in silence, words suspended between them. Helmut saw Rebecca’s mouth open, ready to say his name.

But before she could say anything, the Soldier, who had sensed the danger in an instant, reacted with lightning speed. He violently grabbed Rebecca's arm and yanked her roughly into a dark alley nearby, slamming her against the brick wall. The Soldier's face was stern, his icy eyes locked on those of the terrified young woman.

“She saw us,” the Soldier growled, his voice cold and merciless. “She’s a threat.”

Helmut, his heart racing, rushed behind them.

“Wait!” he cried, his voice trembling but firm.

The Soldier turned to him, confusion and disbelief mingling with his ruthless determination.

“She knows who you are. She could report everything to your father. She must disappear.”

Helmut’s gaze fell on Rebecca, frozen in terror against the wall. Seeing her so helpless and frightened stirred in him a sense of guilt and empathy he could not ignore. He placed a hand on the Soldier's arm, urging him to let her go.

“No,” he said with a firmer voice. “I don’t want you to kill her.”

The Soldier stared at the young master, a glimmer of incomprehension crossing his eyes. It was a huge risk, and Helmut knew it. But something in him refused to add Rebecca’s innocent blood to the long list of horrors surrounding them.

With a sigh, the Soldier finally released his grip on the young woman, reluctantly. He knew full well it was a mistake, but he could not disobey the young Zemo. Rebecca almost collapsed to her knees, catching her breath, still unable to move.

Helmut stepped forward, his face now impassive but his gaze hard.

“Listen carefully,” he said in a cold voice, so different from the friendly tone she had known. “If you tell anyone what you saw tonight… next time, I won’t stop him from killing you.”

Rebecca nodded frantically, tears in her eyes, her terror palpable. Without another word, she got up and fled, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

The Soldier watched the scene in silence, then cast a disapproving glance at the young master. He didn’t understand this decision. To him, the young woman was now an imminent danger, a threat they couldn’t afford to leave at large.

Helmut, feeling the weight of the Soldier’s gaze, shook his head.

“We need to go back to the hotel,” he said simply, avoiding further explanation of his decision.

The Soldier hesitated, his fists clenched, but he knew arguing would be pointless. Without another word, though every fiber of his being protested, he started walking, following the younger man through the dark streets, his worry and frustration deeply etched in his gaze.

As they walked away, the silence between them grew heavy, each lost in their own thoughts, aware that this night had dangerously brought them closer to the edge.

Back in the hotel room, the atmosphere was tense, as if a storm was brewing. Helmut closed the door behind him, quickly glancing at the window to ensure no one had followed them. Curfew would soon begin, and the city would fall into an oppressive silence. The Soldier, still tense, stood by the bed, arms crossed, his dark gaze fixed on the young Zemo.

The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating. Eventually, the Soldier broke it, his voice low and tinged with reproach.

“You know that was a mistake, Master. She saw us. She knows who you are, who I am. She could talk to anyone. Your father. She’s a danger to us.”

Helmut turned to him, his gaze tired but resolute.

“I know what you think, but I couldn’t let her die like that. That’s not what I want from you.”

The Soldier frowned, stepping closer to the young master with an intensity that made him almost threatening.

“What you want from me? I’m here to protect you, Master. Not to make exceptions. Not to leave witnesses alive out of sentimentality.”

Helmut felt anger rise within him.

“Oh really? You’re only here to protect me? Nothing else? Like, for me?” He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Солдат.”

He hated this coldness, this way the Soldier reduced everything to a matter of life or death, with no nuance, no consideration for anything beyond raw survival.

“I don’t want you to be just an assassin.” His voice trembled slightly, but he continued more firmly. “You’re not a hitman, Солдат. That’s not… that’s not what I want you to be for me.”

The Soldier clenched his fists, trying to contain his frustration.

“What you want…” He let out a bitter laugh. “Do you really think we have the luxury of wanting anything? Every person who sees us is a threat. Every witness is a chance for everything to collapse. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen because I’m capable of it. If that means killing someone, then that’s what I have to do.”

Helmut began to pace back and forth in the small room, struggling to contain the anger burning inside him. He turned abruptly to face the Soldier.

“She won’t betray us! You saw her, she was terrified. I warned her, and she knows what will happen if she talks…!”

The Soldier shook his head, his expression hard.

“You’re too confident, too naïve. Fear makes people do stupid things. You should have let me neutralize her before it became a problem.”

Helmut could no longer contain his frustration.

“And then what? We just keep going like this? Killing everyone who might be a threat simply because they might be a threat? You think that’s what I want? To see you become a monster just to protect me?”

The Soldier stopped, touched by the younger man's words more than he wanted to admit. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, he seemed to waver.

“ I’m not a monster ,” he said softly, almost to himself, as if trying to convince himself.

Helmut felt his anger subside slightly, replaced by deep sadness. He approached the Soldier, speaking more gently but with clear resolution.

“No, you’re not… I’m sorry… But… If you continue to act this way, if you continue to think that killing is the only solution, then that’s what you will become. I don’t want that to happen, not to you. Otherwise, it will be a victory for HYDRA.”

The Soldier remained silent, his eyes avoiding those of the young master. There was a visible inner struggle on his face, as if he was trying to reconcile his survival instinct with what the younger man was asking of him. After what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded, but his expression remained filled with doubt and concern.

“Alright,” he whispered. “But if she talks…”

“She won’t talk,” Helmut interrupted, more to convince himself than the Soldier.

The Soldier sighed, turning his gaze to the window, watching the shadows dance on the outside walls.

“I hope you’re right, Master. Because if you’re wrong… I’ll have to do what’s necessary.”

Helmut bit his lip, not wanting to reach such extremes and not wanting to impose such a decision on the Soldier. He shook his head, resolute.

“If she talks, I will deal with it myself.”

The silence fell between them again, but this time it was lighter. There was a tacit understanding, a recognition of the dilemma that bound them together. They were in an impossible situation, where every decision could have catastrophic consequences. Yet despite this, Helmut refused to give in to the ease of violence. He hoped the Soldier would understand this one day, before it was too late.

The Soldier, for his part, continued to struggle with his instincts, trying to reconcile his mission with the values the young master imposed on him. He was not accustomed to this; HYDRA had forced him into a mold, conditioning that had given him bad habits.

As they prepared for a sleepless night, a single thought occupied their minds: had they made the right choice, or had they just signed their own death warrant?

But in the middle of the night, the Soldier, accustomed to being on guard even in his sleep, woke up feeling a movement beside him. The curtains in the room were drawn, plunging it into almost total darkness, but he had no trouble discerning the familiar figure lying next to him, facing him, with eyes slightly open. Helmut, with his tousled hair and half-closed eyes, snuggled closer to the Soldier, instinctively seeking the warmth and comforting presence of his protector.

Despite the tension from their argument earlier in the evening, the Soldier almost immediately relaxed as he felt the younger man nestle against him. The protective instinct took over, and he wrapped the young master in his arms, enveloping him in a firm yet tender embrace. Helmut curled up against him, finding some comfort in this closeness.

Half-awake, the young master murmured, his voice soft and a bit hesitant.

“I’m sorry for tonight… for our argument. I didn’t mean to make you angry…”

The Soldier sighed, feeling the tension that had weighed on them all evening slowly dissipate. He tightened his embrace slightly, as if to signal that he accepted the apology but also that he had never wanted things to escalate between them.

“I’m sorry too,” he replied softly, his voice resonating in the silence of the night. “I want to protect you, Master… but I understand that it shouldn’t come at the cost of losing the little humanity I’ve regained…” He paused. “And… If I’m here… It’s for you…” He breathed in. “Because I care about you…”

“I care about you too… That’s why I was angry…”

Helmut nestled a little closer, letting the Soldier’s warmth soothe his fears and regrets. The two men stayed like this, wrapped in each other, the tensions of the day slowly dissipating in this silent embrace.

Feeling the younger man's breathing become more regular and deeper, the Soldier realized that he had fallen asleep again. He stayed awake for a while longer, his gaze lost in the darkness, reassured by the presence of the young Zemo against him. For once, he allowed himself to lower his guard, even if only for a few hours.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, a slight smile on his lips, and drifted off to sleep himself, comforted by the closeness and reconciliation. Danger still surrounded them, but for this night, and perhaps for the last time, they were at peace.

Chapter Text

Three days had passed since the night Helmut and the Soldier had confronted Rebecca in the dark alleys of Novi Grad. The memory of that event remained etched in their minds, yet neither of them spoke of it. A heavy silence settled between them, like an omnipresent shadow. They had grown accustomed to spending their days avoiding curious glances, blending into the crowd, always on alert.

That afternoon, they sat in a secluded corner of a small café in the city, their faces partially hidden by low-capped hats and sunglasses. The café, at this hour, was nearly empty. Only the sound of the television near the counter broke the ambient silence. They ate in silence, a simple snack, each lost in their thoughts.

Suddenly, a change in the tone of the news broadcast caught their attention. Helmut looked up at the screen. The news anchor, visibly serious, was discussing the political tensions in Sokovia. The report now focused on the new minister's inability to manage the civil war ravaging the country.

Helmut's face hardened as images of destruction and chaos flashed on the screen. The Soldier, who had followed his young master's gaze, stared at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. A growing unease began to stir within him.

The image suddenly shifted to an interview with the U.S. Prime Minister. The statesman, surrounded by his country's flags, firmly demanded an immediate ceasefire in Sokovia. He spoke about the disastrous repercussions of the conflict on European economies, particularly regarding energy and fuel imports. Germany, France, Italy, and Spain were severely impacted, paralyzed by the growing instability.

The American Prime Minister, his voice firm and determined, stressed the need for the rebel party to surrender. He warned that if the conflict persisted, the UN would be forced to intervene to put an end to the war. A shiver ran down Helmut's spine. The shadow of international military intervention now loomed over their heads, an imminent threat.

The Soldier's gaze met Helmut's. In each other's eyes, confusion mingled with worry. They understood that the situation had just taken a decisive turn. If the UN or the American military decided to get directly involved, their mission would become far more perilous. They could no longer simply hide; soon, there would be no safe place left in Sokovia.

Helmut took a deep breath, breaking the silence.

"Finish quickly," he murmured to the Soldier, his voice tense. "We need to leave. Not just this café—Novi Grad too, if possible. We can't afford to get caught in the crossfire."

The Soldier nodded wordlessly, quickly finishing the last bites of his meal. Time was of the essence, and every minute that passed brought them closer to danger. They had to move, and fast, before the situation spiraled out of control.

The Soldier and the young master left the café discreetly, blending into the crowd of Novi Grad. They kept their heads low, walking quickly but without running, trying not to attract attention. The city streets were bustling, the residents going about their business despite the palpable tension in the air. The two men slipped between the passersby, seeking to lose themselves in anonymity.

As they turned into a narrower street, the Soldier suddenly slowed down. His survival instinct kept him on guard at all times, and something in the air made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. About fifty meters ahead, a man in a black military uniform with a confident stride appeared in his line of sight. 

The Soldier recognized him immediately.

Brock Rumlow.

His blood instantly ran cold. He came to an abrupt halt, extending an arm to prevent the younger man from moving further. Helmut, surprised, turned his gaze to the Soldier, then in the direction he was looking. He understood immediately that something was wrong.

Rumlow stood still, his piercing gaze fixed on them. He slowly raised a hand to his earpiece, and with his heightened hearing, the Soldier clearly caught the phrase that followed: "I have them in sight."

Time seemed to freeze.

Without wasting a second, the Soldier grabbed the young master's arm and started running in the opposite direction. Their only chance was to lose Rumlow before reinforcements arrived.

Rumlow cursed, pounding his fist against the wall beside him before launching into pursuit, running down the sidewalk with the determination of a hunter who had finally found his prey.

The streets of Novi Grad blurred beneath their feet as passersby quickly stepped aside, startled by their rapid dash through the city. The Soldier kept an eye on the younger man, ensuring he could keep up with the frantic pace while constantly scanning the surroundings for an escape route. Rumlow was fast, much faster than most men, and the sound of his boots pounding the ground grew closer.

The Soldier made a sharp turn into a side alley, pulling Helmut along with him. The alley was narrow, cluttered with garbage bins and old crates. Helmut stumbled over an overturned box, but the Soldier caught him in one swift motion, not losing a second.

A gunshot suddenly rang out, the sound slicing through the air just behind them. A bullet struck a wall mere inches from Helmut's head, sending shards of brick flying. Rumlow had opened fire, determined not to let them escape. The Soldier briefly turned, drawing his weapon to return fire, but he knew they couldn't linger here. They had to find a way to put more distance between them and their pursuer.

"Over here!" the Soldier hissed as he spotted a slightly open metal door on the side of an old building.

They rushed inside, bursting into an abandoned warehouse, dark and dusty. Beams of light filtered through broken windows, creating perfect shadowy spots to hide.

They ran through the warehouse, the Soldier scanning every corner, every possible escape route. Their footsteps echoed in the empty building, but he knew Rumlow wouldn't be far behind.

Suddenly, an explosion rang out outside. A vehicle had crashed into a fire hydrant on the adjacent street, creating an unintentional diversion. The Soldier seized the opportunity, pulling the younger man toward a metal ladder leading to the roof.

"Climb! Quickly!" he ordered in a rough voice.

Helmut, breathless but determined, grabbed the rungs and started climbing as fast as he could. The Soldier followed, glancing down just as Rumlow burst into the warehouse, his weapon raised, ready to fire.

At the top, Helmut pulled himself onto the roof, the wind whipping against his face. The Soldier joined him just in time to dodge another volley of bullets. They sprinted across the roof, jumping over ventilation ducts, their feet pounding the corrugated metal.

But the danger was far from over. Rumlow had followed them onto the roof, still as determined to capture them. The two men reached the edge of the roof, a gaping chasm extending before them. Another street lay below, and another building stood just opposite, separated by a narrow, yet deadly, gap.

"We have no choice..." Helmut gasped.

The Soldier nodded, his gaze fixed on the other side. He took Helmut's hand, and with a synchronized leap, they jumped over the void. The world seemed to slow down, their breath suspended as they crossed the space beneath them.

They landed heavily on the other side, rolling to absorb the impact. Helmut winced in pain as he got up, but the Soldier pulled him forward. No time to stop. Rumlow, with surprising agility, mimicked their jump, landing as well, but more clumsily, with one foot half dangling in the void.

The Soldier, seizing the moment, turned and fired several shots in Rumlow's direction, forcing him to take cover behind a duct. They ran across the roof, finally reaching a hatch leading inside the building.

They rushed down the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. The Soldier, ever vigilant, searched for an exit. They emerged into a hallway, empty but eerie, the walls covered in graffiti. Outside, they could hear the sirens of fire trucks and ambulances, due to the earlier accident, getting closer. Chaos was spreading throughout the city.

Finally, they found an exit, a rusty metal door. They pushed it open, spilling out into another alleyway, this one further from the main street. The Soldier turned to lock the door behind them, temporarily blocking Rumlow.

"We need to keep moving," he panted, his piercing gaze searching for their next move.

Helmut nodded, breathless but resolute. He had never run so much in his life, let alone jumped from one building to another over a gap of more than 20 meters. They had managed to evade Rumlow for now, but they knew the chase was only beginning. Their only option was to disappear, to leave Novi Grad before the situation spiraled out of control.

The Soldier and Helmut continued to weave through the streets of Novi Grad, staying in the shadows, avoiding main avenues and crowded areas. Danger was everywhere, and every face they passed could belong to an agent ready to capture them—or worse.

"It's no coincidence that Rumlow is here," the Soldier murmured, keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings. "Rebecca must have talked to the Baron. And the Baron talked to Strucker." He clenched his teeth, his brows furrowing under the intensity of his thoughts. "We need to stay on our guard. Rumlow has alerted the cavalry; they could show up at any moment. And they won’t hesitate to do it right in the middle of the street, in front of everyone."

Helmut, who had struggled to grasp what was happening until now, felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Rebecca, whom he had wanted to spare, might well be the cause of their current predicament. He didn't want her to die; he wanted to avoid the Soldier becoming a mere assassin. But at that moment, a colder reality settled over him: if he had to choose between their survival and Rebecca’s, he would choose theirs. Rebecca was now a threat, a source of danger they could no longer ignore.

"I thought I knew her," Helmut murmured, lowering his head. "She’s been working at the manor for years; she’s kind… Why would she have ratted us out to my father? She could have easily pretended she didn’t see us."

The Soldier listened intently, then sighed before responding in a deep voice.

"Maybe she didn’t do it to harm you. Maybe she wanted to harm me."

"What do you mean?" Helmut looked at him, confused.

The Soldier hesitated for a moment before delving into his thoughts.

"Rebecca is the same age as you, Master. It’s possible she has feelings for you, even an attraction. Seeing me constantly by your side, protecting you… She could have become jealous. She might want to put me out of commission so that you’d return to the manor. With her."

Helmut shook his head, finding this argument absurd at first.

"That’s ridiculous..." he said, but deep down, he knew that human emotions could sometimes drive people to irrational acts. He suddenly remembered the time someone had reported them when they were hiding in the gardener’s shed back in early February. "Wait..." he said, stopping dead in his tracks, a look of realization dawning on his face. "That day, at the gardener’s shed… Someone had told my father everything, but we never found out who. Rebecca was the only one absent, the only one who was never questioned that day." He bit his lip, feeling anger and betrayal rise within him. He turned a heavy gaze toward the Soldier. "It was her… she’s the one who betrayed us that day, and she must have betrayed us again after the fair."

The Soldier nodded, a dark expression on his face.

"That explains why Rumlow is here now. Like I said, she must have warned your father, who then informed Strucker to send Rumlow here."

They finally arrived at their hotel, slipping quietly into their room. The Soldier rushed to their belongings, quickly beginning to gather them.

"We need to leave the city. Now. It won’t take them long to figure out where we are, if they haven’t already."

Helmut, his heart heavy with guilt and anger, also started packing their things. Rebecca’s betrayal had cut him deeply, but he knew he needed to stay focused on the most important thing: their survival.

"We’re leaving right now," Helmut said, casting one last look around the room. "We can’t afford to hesitate anymore."

The Soldier nodded, checking one last time to ensure nothing was forgotten.

"Let’s go. Every minute counts."

They left the room as quietly as they had entered it, engaging in a dangerous game of escape against time. The streets of Novi Grad were about to become a battlefield, and their only chance of survival lay in their ability to disappear before the storm caught up with them. 

As they were about to leave the hotel, a muffled explosion sounded behind them. The windows shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the room. A squad of armed men burst in, spreading out in the hallway and surrounding them, weapons aimed. The Soldier reacted instantly, his combat instincts taking over. He drew his weapon with lightning speed, firing precise bursts that took down several enemies within seconds. 

One man tried to grab him from behind, but the Soldier pivoted, grabbing his attacker by the arm and slamming him against the wall with superhuman force. His metal hand seized another’s face, slamming him violently to the ground. The Soldier was a whirlwind of power, his body moving with terrifying precision and agility. His strikes were relentless, each delivered with lethal intent. 

Helmut, for his part, didn’t let panic overwhelm him. He remembered the self-defense lessons his father had imposed on him, and he applied them with deadly efficiency. He dodged a blow, grabbing his assailant’s arm and twisting it against him, disarming the man in an instant. He bent down, picking up the fallen weapon, and fired two shots that hit their marks with cold precision. Helmut didn’t have the same training as the Soldier, but his effectiveness, coupled with his determination, made him a formidable opponent. It was a matter of survival, and he was willing to do whatever it took. 

The two men fought side by side, their movements aligning with an almost instinctive fluidity. The Soldier took down one enemy, Helmut finished another. They were relentless, perfectly complementing each other. The last of the attackers fell heavily to the ground, his face marked by the surprise of being defeated so quickly. 

Breathless but victorious, the young master and the Soldier exchanged a brief glance, realizing in a flash of lucidity that they formed a perfectly synchronized duo in the heat of battle. Their victory, however, was short-lived. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, signaling the arrival of reinforcements. They turned abruptly, and the Soldier froze as he recognized the figure approaching them. 

Karpov.

The Soldier’s blood ran cold in his veins. Karpov, the General who had helped turn him into what he was, advanced, his piercing eyes like blades, his expressionless face foreboding nothing good. Helmut, although unaware of the deep connection between the Soldier and this man, immediately sensed the threat this individual posed. He pointed his weapon at Karpov, ready to shoot.

But before he could pull the trigger, the Soldier reacted instinctively, placing his metal hand on Helmut’s arm to lower his weapon. Helmut looked at him, confused. He quickly grasped the gravity of the situation when he saw the terror in his protector’s eyes. This man was no ordinary enemy. He was General Karpov, the Soldier’s Handler, the one who held ultimate control over him.

" Спутник Satellite."

This word, simple and cutting, hung in the air like an irrevocable sentence. The Soldier wavered, his eyes instantly glazing over, and before Helmut could do anything, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious, plunged into a dark abyss from which he could not escape.

Helmut felt a wild panic rise within him, his insides twisted with fear. The Soldier, his protector, was at the mercy of this man. He was left alone, kneeling beside his lover, defenseless against an enemy he could not fight, with the terrible fear that this was the end for them both.

Karpov advanced slowly, his icy eyes fixed on the young man, his face marked by cold disapproval.

"You have no right..!" the younger man articulated, his throat tight with emotion, clinging to the Soldier.

"I have every right."

And Rumlow, who had discreetly approached from behind, brutally struck young Zemo on the head with the butt of his weapon, instantly plunging him into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Helmut slowly emerged from the darkness, a dull pain throbbing at the back of his skull. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the outlines of a dimly lit room. He tried to move, but his wrists were tightly handcuffed to a chair, the cold metal biting into his skin. The air was heavy and damp, and a wave of panic began to rise within him.

"Is anyone there?" he shouted, his voice weakly echoing against the walls. He tugged at the handcuffs again, but they wouldn't budge. "Help !"

The door suddenly swung open, revealing a massive figure. Brock Rumlow, with his hard features and piercing gaze, stepped in with a mocking smile.

"Finally awake, Little Prince?" he sneered, his sharp voice cutting through the room. He closed the door behind him, approaching Helmut with slow, deliberate steps.

Helmut felt terror grip him, but he tried to maintain a calm facade.

"Where am I? What do you want?" he asked, his voice slightly trembling.

Rumlow gave a joyless smile.  

"Not so fast, pal. We have some business to settle, you and I." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scrutinizing Helmut with icy intensity. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the Winter Soldier. What he's told you, any information about himself, or about HYDRA. Anything he might have disclosed."

Helmut felt a wave of confusion mixed with panic. He absolutely couldn't reveal what he knew or what he had researched about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. He didn’t want to put the Soldier’s life in danger, nor did he want to die. If he lost his life, he wouldn’t be able to help the Soldier escape.

"I... I don't know anything," he stammered, feigning ignorance. "The Soldier hasn't told me anything. He doesn't even know who he really is. He never talks about his past or HYDRA."

"You expect me to believe that?" Rumlow glared at him, his eyes narrowing. "He must have said something. Otherwise, why would the two of you have run away, huh?"

Helmut knew he was on shaky ground. He needed to find a way to make his lie believable, or he risked ending up in an even more desperate situation. He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. The only way was to mix in some truth, even if he had wanted to keep that solely between himself and the Soldier.

"I... I don't know anything concrete," he began, his voice deliberately trembling. "But... there’s something else." He bit his lip, hesitating genuinely. "It's the reason we ran away..."

"Oh? And what is that?"

Helmut lowered his eyes, feeling shame and embarrassment welling up inside him. He wasn’t ashamed of what he was about to say, but ashamed of revealing it to the enemy, who would undoubtedly use it against him or the Soldier. But he had no choice; buying time, sizing up Rumlow was crucial before devising a plan.

"I... I have feelings for the Soldier," he admitted, genuinely against his will. "Everything I did, this escape, it wasn't for some grand plan... it was because I... I love him."

He looked up to see Rumlow's reaction, who stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. Then, suddenly, Rumlow burst out laughing, a harsh, mocking laugh that echoed through the room. He had expected anything but this.

"Wow! Are you kidding me?" he scoffed, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "This whole damn story, this entire chase... all for what? Some ridiculous romantic escapade? That’s really pathetic."

Helmut clenched his teeth, feeling anger rise within him, but he knew he had to stay calm. Every word, every move could determine his fate.

Rumlow finally stopped laughing, shaking his head in amusement when he saw that Helmut was serious.

“Oh, you weren't joking...?” He continued to chuckle despite himself. “You do know the Soldier isn't capable of feeling anything, right? You know that if he followed you around like a good little dog, it’s because you have some authority over him, huh?” Helmut didn’t respond. He knew that wasn’t true, but doubt still managed to creep into his chest like poison. Seeing the change in his expression, Rumlow leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. “Did you two fucked ?” The murderous glare Helmut shot back spoke volumes, and Rumlow leaned back, stunned. “Wow… What a damn lucky guy…”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Ha! Of course not, the whole of HYDRA’s had their turn with him anyway,” he laughed. “I’ll just have to wait for mine…” He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Or maybe I’ll just force his hand a bit…”

Helmut yanked violently at his cuffs, trying to reach Rumlow in a sudden burst of anger, causing the other man to jump back slightly.

“Jealous?” Rumlow grinned widely, knowing full well that it was his own jealousy flaring up at the thought of those two having slept together. “You know what? I might almost let you go just to see how badly you mess up. But you’re a Zemo, and I doubt you’re as harmless as you’re pretending to be.” He straightened up, his expression turning stern. “You might not know anything useful, but don’t think that’s going to save you. There are people who want to make you pay for stealing the Soldier like you did, and they won’t have the courtesy of a chat like this.” He gave Helmut a once-over. “You should’ve thought this through, Little Prince.”

Helmut stared back at him, his mind whirling between rage and determination. He knew his situation was desperate, but he was willing to do anything to protect the Soldier from HYDRA, and from that man who thought himself superior.

Despite the intense pain and the tension of the situation, Helmut remained focused. While Rumlow continued to talk, mocking him and his feelings for the Winter Soldier, Helmut was preparing. His arms were tied behind him, but he had been discreetly working on his handcuffs. Taking advantage of the distraction that their conversation provided, he had managed to dislocate his right thumb, slowly slipping his hand out of the metal loop. The pain was unbearable, but the need to free himself outweighed all other sensations.

Unaware of Helmut's subtle maneuvers, Rumlow approached him with a malicious expression. He stopped right in front of Helmut, lowering himself heavily onto his lap to be face-to-face with him, a sneer spreading across his lips.

“You’re quite cute up close, you know,” he murmured, leaning his face closer to Helmut’s. “Too bad I’m not allowed to mess up that pretty face of yours. Strucker warned me, the old Baron wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Helmut remained impassive, his eyes locked onto Rumlow’s. But inside, he was seething with rage.

“You know, I could just report you to the Sokovian police for… let’s say, pederasty. That’d really ruin the Zemo image, don’t you think? Maybe then you’d realize that you don’t cross HYDRA without paying the price.”

Helmut clenched his jaw, trying to contain his disgust. But he knew the time had come. Rumlow, confident, had let his guard down by getting so close. Helmut wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass.

With unexpected speed, he lunged forward and delivered a violent headbutt, directly into Rumlow’s nose. The distinct crack of the bone breaking echoed through the room. Rumlow, caught off guard and in pain, staggered backward. Helmut seized the moment to free his right arm, still throbbing, from the grip of the cuffs, and immediately grabbed Rumlow’s Adam apple, squeezing with all his strength.

Rumlow fell to the floor under the force of the pain and the sudden lack of air, writhing to try and free himself. Helmut took advantage of this to grab the key ring attached to Rumlow’s belt and quickly unlocked his remaining cuff. He stood up with difficulty, but adrenaline pushed him to keep going.

As he headed for the door, he heard a metallic click behind him. He froze, a shiver of terror running through him. Turning slowly, he saw Rumlow, on his knees, a gun pointed directly at him.

Helmut took a deep breath, searching for a quick solution. He decided not to hesitate. With a sudden and powerful move, he kicked Rumlow’s hand directly, sending the gun flying across the room. Rumlow, thrown off balance, staggered to his feet, but Helmut didn’t give him a chance to recover.

Helmut spotted a wooden broom in the corner of the room and rushed toward it. With a swift motion, he broke the handle, turning it into an improvised weapon, a staff with jagged ends. He turned to Rumlow, eyes burning with determination, and launched his attack with fierce precision. The stick became an extension of his body, an improvised sword that struck with a force fueled by both rage and the instinct to survive.

Despite Rumlow's imposing build, he quickly found himself in trouble against the agility and desperate determination of the young Zemo. Helmut attacked relentlessly, each blow calculated to inflict maximum pain. The handle struck Rumlow with controlled violence, each impact echoing in the small room.

Although Rumlow tried to block the assaults, Helmut's speed and intensity kept him constantly on the defensive. A precise thrust struck Rumlow in the temple, disorienting him enough to lose his balance and stumble heavily against a wall. Helmut gave him no respite. Continuing his offensive, he hammered his opponent with a fury driven by fear, love, and burning hatred. Each blow reinforced his resolve, drawing from what seemed to be an inexhaustible source of energy.

Rumlow, now cornered, attempted a desperate counterattack, but Helmut's ferocity was relentless. The final blow, a violent strike to the base of the skull, ended the fight. Rumlow collapsed heavily to the ground, unconscious, his body crumpling in a brutal silence.

Panting, his heart pounding wildly, Helmut remained still for a moment, staring at Rumlow's inert body. His hands trembled, not just from physical exertion, but from the shock of what he had just done. Killing someone in cold blood with a well-placed bullet was entirely different from beating someone unconscious with a wooden stick.

After a brief check to ensure Rumlow wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon, Helmut quickly made his way toward the gun that had fallen to the floor, picking it up and gripping the handle tightly.

Taking advantage of this brief moment of respite, Helmut firmly grasped his right thumb and, with a sharp motion, popped it back into place, stifling a groan of pain by burying his face in his shoulder. He moved his hand to ensure everything was in order, then rearmed the gun with a distinct click and left the room on high alert, ready to shoot anyone who got in his way.

Helmut advanced cautiously through the dark corridors, the gun gripped firmly in his hand, his senses on high alert. Silence reigned in this place, broken only by the faint hum of a distant generator. As he progressed, a strange sense of familiarity dawned on him. The long, austere corridors, the thick stone walls... He was in the isolated fortress that had originally belonged to his family but had been lent to HYDRA for their experiments.

Suddenly, as he passed by the large windows of a laboratory, he noticed a fluctuation in the lighting. The lights flickered, blinking as if the electrical current was experiencing a disruption. Helmut looked up, trying to understand what could be causing these malfunctions. He squinted at the flickering neon lights above him, but before he could analyze further, a figure leaped from the shadows.

The impact was violent and sudden. Helmut didn’t have time to react before the woman lunged at him with surprising agility. The partial mask she wore gave her the appearance of a broken doll, a distinctive sign he recognized immediately. Dr. Hale. The scientist who led the research and experiments with Strucker for HYDRA.

Without hesitation, Hale brandished a gleaming scalpel, aiming precisely at Helmut's vital points. He narrowly dodged, the sharp metal slicing through the air near his neck. The narrow hallway made every movement difficult, every gesture measured. But Helmut had neither the time nor the desire to hold back, despite his female opponent. He didn’t have the luxury of worrying about courtesy; his priority was to survive.

Helmut counterattacked, trying to disarm her, but Dr. Hale's fury was relentless. She was fast, each slash of the scalpel as precise as a razor, and she managed to cut into his right forearm for a moment. The narrow corridor walls echoed their frantic movements, amplifying every sound, every breath, and every gasp of pain.

In an intense exchange, Hale managed to trip him. Helmut fell heavily onto his back, his gun sliding out of reach. Hale, with a crazed look in her eyes, lunged at him, her scalpel poised to plunge into his throat. A wave of terror washed over Helmut, a brutal realization that his life might end here, in this dark, deserted corridor. He resisted with all his strength, pushing against the woman’s forearms to keep the scalpel from driving into his neck. But her fury seemed to grant her almost superhuman strength, and she inched closer, little by little.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Hale suddenly froze, her arms losing all their strength. 

Still in shock from the situation, Helmut saw a large blade pierce the woman’s chest, appearing like a sudden mirage. Blood spurted, splattering everywhere. He flinched, eyes wide, as the blade was abruptly withdrawn, causing Hale to collapse to the side, her lifeless body slumping heavily to the floor.

Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Helmut remained frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. In front of him stood a man wearing a sort of purple mask, holding a long sword, his gaze hard but tinged with relief. But the man quickly removed his mask, and Helmut instantly recognized the face before him, his heart tightening.

It was his father.

The Baron glanced briefly at Hale’s body with disdain, breathing heavily, before rushing to his son and dropping to his knees. He let the sword and mask fall to the ground, his immediate concern being Helmut. Without hesitation, he grabbed his son’s face in his hands, searching his eyes as if he couldn’t believe that he was truly there, alive.

“Helmut…” he murmured, his voice trembling, filled with emotion, and suddenly pulling him into a powerful embrace.

Helmut, still confused and shaken by the events, struggled to understand the situation. How had his father gotten here? Why now? Why did he seem so relieved to find him when he seemed angry at him for his actions? 

Questions swirled in his mind, but the only thing he could do was return the embrace, seeking answers in his thoughts. 

But it felt so good. Despite everything, he loved his father, and he was relieved to see that he still cared, that he was there in such a situation.

“Father… I… I don’t understand…” he stammered, his voice uncertain.

The Baron took a deep breath and gently pulled back, inspecting every inch of his son’s visible skin, his eyes filled with remorse.

“I’m sorry, Helmut. I’m terribly sorry… When I learned that HYDRA had captured you… that they intended to hurt you, I…” He pinched his lips, shaking his head. “I never believed they would turn against us, Helmut…” He locked eyes with him. “And I will never let them hurt you.”

Helmut remained silent, his eyes widening further, tears threatening to fall. This wasn’t real; he had taken a blow to the head and was hallucinating, right?

“Helmut, you… you’re all I have left… Despite our wealth, our name, despite our notoriety, nothing is more precious to me than you…” the Baron continued, his voice breaking slightly. “You’re more important than HYDRA or the power they could offer me.” He gently wiped the blood from Hale, which had mixed with a few tears, off his son’s face. “I couldn’t lose you…” He kissed his forehead, just as he had when Helmut was a child. “If you fight against HYDRA, then I will fight by your side…”

The Baron’s words resonated within Helmut, the confusion mingling with a wave of relief and disbelief. With trembling arms, he hugged his father with all his strength, the reality of the situation beginning to sink into every fiber of his being.

They were together, against everything, even HYDRA, and for the first time since he had been on the run with the Soldier, Helmut felt a spark of hope in the midst of this nightmare.

Chapter Text

Helmut and his father silently made their way through the dark, deserted corridors of the fortress, their muted footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls. Heinrich Zemo knew every nook and cranny of the place, every secret passage that wove through the massive structure. It was like returning to his childhood when he used to wander through these same corridors, seeking out mysteries and hidden treasures. Today, however, their objective was far more serious.

As they moved forward, Helmut, with his keen gaze, remained on high alert. Every shadow, every sound could signal the arrival of HYDRA agents. Yet, he felt strangely reassured by his father's presence beside him, despite the many questions and painful memories it stirred up.

“Father…” Helmut began quietly, breaking the heavy silence between them. “I need to talk to you about the Soldier. What HYDRA has done to him… it’s inhumane. He’s nothing but a puppet to them, a tool they manipulate at their whim. They’ve tortured him, broken him, stolen his identity, his life. No human being deserves this, not even him.” He took a breath. “Especially not him, actually.”

Heinrich remained silent, absorbing his son’s words. The memory of their last conversation, before Helmut had run away from the family estate, came back to him. At that time, he had been inflexible, blinded by HYDRA’s ideals and promises. But now, listening to his son, something within him was cracking.

“If what you say is true… then what they’ve done to the Soldier, and to all those other unfortunate souls captured for their experiments…” Heinrich swallowed hard, feeling a growing nausea within him. “How could I have turned a blind eye to such horrors? How could I have condoned it, remaining silent, and even funding it…?”

Helmut, sensing his father’s rising anxiety, stopped abruptly and placed a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Father, don’t blame yourself. HYDRA is skilled in the art of manipulating minds, distorting reality. They know how to play on convictions, using people’s weaknesses to serve their own interests. We’ve all been deceived at one time or another.”

Heinrich took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. His son’s words, filled with wisdom and compassion, soothed him, but couldn’t erase his guilt.

“The wisdom you’re showing, Helmut… it’s well beyond your years.” Heinrich shook his head, recalling how he had underestimated his son in the past. “I promise you, if we manage to save the Soldier, I will do everything to make amends. And… maybe I’ll learn to better understand the feelings you have for him.”

Helmut looked at him, surprised by this confession. He had never thought that his father, the proud Baron Heinrich Zemo, could show such humility. He nodded in gratitude.

“Th-Thank you, Father. But for now, let’s focus on rescuing him.”

They continued their walk through the corridors, slipping through the secret passages that Baron Zemo knew so well. Each step brought them closer to their goal, the hope of saving a broken life, and perhaps, rebuilding what had been destroyed between them.

As they moved through the dark corridors of the fortress, the electrical fluctuations became increasingly intense. The lights flickered, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, and Helmut felt a growing tension. His gaze frequently lifted to the light bulbs, trying to understand what might be causing these malfunctions.

“It’s strange…” he murmured, more to himself than to his father. “What could be causing such fluctuations?”

Heinrich, who had been silent and tense until then, turned to him, his features suddenly marked by a cold and closed expression.

“It must be the chair,” he said simply, his tone devoid of emotion.

Helmut turned his head toward his father, trying to understand what he was talking about before it came back to him. The Soldier had mentioned this chair, this horrible chair, but Helmut thought it was in Siberia, not here. Although, Karpov was supposed to be in Siberia too, and yet he was right here. Helmut stared at his father. How did he know about the chair?

The Baron slightly slowed his pace, his face darkened by the memory of what Strucker had revealed to him.

“Strucker… he once told me about it. They call it the reset chair. It’s used to erase the Winter Soldier’s memory. Under violent electrical impulses… it literally fries his brain, forcing him to forget everything he’s experienced or learned since his last mission. That’s how they keep him under control, keeping him in a state where he can never truly break free…”

Helmut felt a chill run down his spine. The thought that the Soldier might be undergoing such torment at this very moment terrified him. His heart raced at the mere thought of the man he loved losing what was left of his humanity, his memories.

“No…” Helmut whispered, his voice trembling. “We can’t let them do this.”

The Baron nodded, his serious expression reflecting his own concern. They resumed their walk, more determined than ever. After about thirty meters, they finally emerged into a vast room. Helmut immediately recognized the place. Once, it had been the main reception hall of the fortress, a place of grandeur where the Zemo family’s nobility hosted their guests in the 19th century. But today, the room had been transformed into a nerve center for HYDRA operations.

In the center of the room, a horde of technicians and scientists busied themselves around a macabre setup. A metallic chair stood in the middle, equipped with straps and a strange support suspended just above it. Helmut didn’t immediately understand what it was, but the mere sight of the machine made him feel nauseous.

They concealed themselves in the shadow of a pillar, observing the scene with intense attention. Then the door opened, and Strucker made his entrance, his stride confident and his face as impassive as usual. He approached a man standing with his back to them, dressed in a military uniform, and Helmut’s heart tightened when he recognized him as General Karpov.

Strucker whispered something in the General’s ear. Helmut watched as Karpov’s face twisted in surprise, then in anger. The General turned abruptly, his face red with indignation, and raised his voice, drawing the attention of all the technicians around.

“What do you mean, Rumlow has been found unconscious?!” Karpov bellowed, his eyes flashing. “And young Zemo, missing? And Hale… found dead?”

Karpov’s words echoed through the large room, creating a palpable discomfort among the HYDRA personnel present. Helmut, still hidden in the shadows with his father, exchanged a glance with him. Their hearts beat in unison, both caught in anxiety and fierce resolve.

They had to act, and quickly.

Karpov’s gaze hardened as he assessed the situation. His fists clenched, and he barked orders at a nearby technician.

“You, come with me. You and you too, follow us.”

Two soldiers detached themselves from the group, responding to the call. Karpov then turned to Strucker, his face contorted with anger.

“Commander Strucker, place men at each entrance of this room. If young Zemo shows his face, execute him immediately.”

Strucker nodded, impassive, and Karpov left the room, accompanied by the three HYDRA agents, walking with a swift and determined stride. There was not much time left.

Following the General’s orders, Strucker turned to the remaining soldiers.

“Position yourselves at the entrances, double your vigilance. We must ensure that no one enters here unseen.”

The soldiers nodded and began to move, dispersing to take up their assigned positions.

Helmut, hidden in the shadows with his father, watched as two soldiers approached the entrance near their hiding place. Anxiety grew in his eyes, but he remained still, waiting for the right moment.

Noticing his son’s anxiety, Heinrich leaned towards him, speaking in a low voice.

“Helmut… have you… ever killed someone?”

The question surprised the young man. He hadn’t yet had time to process everything he was experiencing, but now, faced with the question, memories surged. He recalled the times he had had to fight for survival, where instinct had taken over.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice low and filled with gravity.

Heinrich nodded, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. He wished he could have spared his son this experience, but in exceptional circumstances, exceptional measures. He drew a knife from his belt and handed it to Helmut. The look he gave him was filled with understanding and determination. They had no choice. If either of them faltered, they would both die, and the Soldier would be lost.

Without another word, they prepared. The soldiers were approaching their position, their heavy footsteps faintly echoing in the silent corridor. Helmut felt his heart pounding, each second stretching into an eternity.

Finally, the moment arrived. The two soldiers were close enough. With a quick and precise movement, Helmut sprang from his hiding place, catching one of the soldiers by surprise. The knife plunged into his throat, a brutal and silent action. Helmut immediately covered his victim’s mouth, stifling any cry before letting him slump slowly to the ground.

At the same moment, Heinrich lunged at the other soldier. His movements were marked by a cold and calculated efficiency, honed over the years. He grabbed the soldier by the neck and, with a sharp twist, broke it. The body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Quickly, father and son dragged the bodies out of sight, hiding them behind a wall of crates. Time was of the essence. They discarded the soldiers’ uniforms and donned them with speed and precision. With their helmets on, they took their places at the entrances as if they were genuine HYDRA agents.

Strucker, observing the room carefully, turned toward them, raising an eyebrow. His suspicious gaze seemed to scrutinize them for a moment. Heinrich, hidden behind his uniform, gave a measured nod, signaling that everything was under control.

Strucker, apparently reassured, nodded in return before turning his back, resuming his nervous watch, impatiently waiting for Karpov to return with the Soldier.

Despite the apparent calm, Helmut felt an electric tension in the air. The trap was slowly closing, but they hadn’t won yet. Everything now depended on their ability to remain discreet and on Karpov’s speed in returning with the Soldier.

They had no real plans, and yet they had to act. The next step would be crucial.

Karpov’s return to the room was marked by a heavy silence. Following him, the Soldier, shuffling his feet, entered with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back, but Helmut knew that these handcuffs were merely a formality. The Soldier’s true prison was in his mind, shackled under the ruthless orders of his Handler, Karpov. Helmut felt his heart race at the sight of his lover in such a pitiful state, every fiber of his being screaming to run to his side, to free him from this grip. One step escaped his control, making him move imperceptibly forward.

But a firm hand discreetly landed on his arm, pulling him slightly back. His father looked at him with an intensity that brooked no doubt. This was not the time to blow their cover. Helmut held his breath, his heart pounding wildly, eyes fixed on the Soldier, who, under Karpov’s direction, was led to the grim metal chair at the center of the room.

Karpov barked orders to the technicians.

“Seat him in the chair and strap him down. Have the doctors check his vital signs.”

His words were harsh, with no trace of empathy. To him, the Soldier was just a tool to be reset, a machine to be rebooted.

Hidden beneath his helmet, Helmut watched with eyes wide with terror. Each movement of the technicians, each click of the straps tightening around the Soldier, intensified his sense of helplessness. The Soldier was so close, within reach, but the thought that he might not be able to save him seeped into him like poison. Tears threatened to fall, but he held them back, forcing himself to stay focused.

The Soldier, for his part, resignedly complied, his body reacting automatically to the orders he received. He settled into the chair, defeated. A part of him already knew what was going to happen. He knew he would forget everything, that all he had lived through, all he had learned, would vanish. Including what connected him to the young master. His chest tightened at this thought. He didn’t even know if the youngest was still alive. And if so, he knew he wouldn’t remember him anyway. Those memories of affection and love that had given him a semblance of humanity would be erased, crushed under the electric impulse. A dull ache settled in his heart, the pain of losing what he had found most precious. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his last strength, as his eyes grew moist.

When he reopened them, his tear-blurred gaze fixed on a point in the distance, trying to cling to something, anything, to avoid sinking. His breath became short, panic beginning to set in, but as he scanned the room, his eyes fell on two guards at the entrance across. One of them, with a hand on his rifle, was discreetly tapping on it with his index finger. This strange gesture caught the Soldier’s attention, and he focused on the movement. It was Morse code. Slowly, his thoughts centered around the message: H-U-N-T-E-R.

His eyes widened slightly as he realized what he was seeing. Hunter. Only the young master knew this false identity, a creation from their underground life. This guard… was not a HYDRA agent; it was him..! Hope, fragile but real, sprouted in his mind. He stared intently at the false guard, their gazes locking. The young master had risked his life to come save him.

A slight nod was all the Soldier allowed himself, too aware of the threat posed by Strucker and Karpov. He could not betray their presence, but this simple exchange of information was enough to rekindle the spark of resistance within him. Perhaps there was a chance to escape.

The Soldier, now aware that he was not alone, that the young master was there, mentally prepared himself. The upcoming fight would be difficult, but it was not yet lost. The hardest part would be disobeying and confronting Karpov, and holding out until they could act. He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving his lover’s.

They were going to succeed.

They had to.

Chapter Text

The tension in the room reached its peak as the technicians completed the final preparations for the Soldier’s reset. The straps were tightened, and the machines hummed with ominous anticipation. Helmut, disguised in a guard’s uniform, felt his breath quicken. He knew the moment to act was approaching, but the anxiety gnawed at him. The Baron, beside him, watched the scene with cold determination, ready to do whatever it took to save his son and the Soldier.

As Karpov gave the final order to start the process, Helmut exchanged a quick glance with his father. Without a word, they sprang into action. The Baron drew his pistol, shooting one of the technicians who collapsed instantly, blood splattering the ancient floor. At the same moment, Helmut rushed towards the control console, hoping to stop the process before it was too late.

But their attack, though determined, provoked an immediate response. HYDRA soldiers reacted with terrifying speed. Two of them charged at Helmut, weapons in hand. Young Zemo, breath quickening, tried to defend himself. He managed to dodge the first blow, sending his assailant to the ground with a precise kick. But the second soldier, quicker, managed to grab him. In a fierce struggle, the two men fought with desperate fury. Helmut succeeded in landing an elbow strike to his opponent’s ribs, throwing him off balance before trying to break free. But as he stood, a gunshot echoed through the room. Helmut felt a searing pain tear through him, stopping him dead in his tracks. Time seemed to slow as he brought a trembling hand to his left side, where blood began to spill. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor, his strength suddenly draining away. The world around him blurred, the cries and sounds blending into an indistinct hum as the cold floor pressed against his cheek.

The Baron, who had just neutralized another soldier, saw his son fall after the gunshot. An indescribable terror seized him.

"Helmut!" he shouted, rushing toward him.

His heart pounded wildly as he knelt beside him, pressing his hands against the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. His son’s face was pale, his eyes clouded with pain and shock.

The Soldier had witnessed the entire scene. In a desperate surge, strapped to the chair in the center of the room, he screamed in rage as he saw the young master collapse. The bonds holding him strained against the superhuman force driving him.

" Не двигайся Don't move !"

He froze at the command, eyes wide with the realization that he couldn’t move. The hold Karpov had on him was terrifying, sending waves of blood-boiling rage through his entire body. The veins in his neck bulged, and his muscles tensed as he fought against the orders engraved in his mind, but each micro-movement seemed to cause him pain and crush him against the chair with overwhelming gravity. Panic and agony were etched on his face as he realized he couldn’t save the one he loved. He glanced at the young master lying on the floor, still pulling at the restraints that held him to the chair, hoping to break free.

Strucker, with a chilling calm, advanced toward the two rebellious guards. His pistol raised, he observed the scene with an icy gaze.

"Remove your helmet." Slowly, the Baron complied, not wanting to provoke a shot. Strucker’s eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the Baron, then a burning sense of betrayal coursed through him. "You’ve made a grave mistake, Zemo," he murmured, disgust distorting his features. "Give me one good reason to spare you."

Desperate, the Baron lifted his head, his eyes pleading.

"Y-You can keep the funding for your projects," he said, swallowing hard under the fear, the barrel of the gun pressed against his cheek. "Keep the fortress too… it’s yours." He glanced at Strucker, then at Karpov. "We will say nothing of what happens here or what you do, ever. But I beg you… spare my son."

His voice broke on the last words as he pressed harder on Helmut’s wound, hearing him moan in pain.

Strucker, impassive, didn’t respond immediately. His eyes, hard as stone, seemed to weigh every word the Baron had said. He turned his head slightly towards Karpov, questioning him with a look. After all, his work here would influence his promotion and the deployment of his infiltration team within S.H.I.E.L.D in Washington, D.C. From his perspective, the offer was interesting.

"What do you think? They do know about the Soldier," Strucker said, casting a glance at the latter, who still seemed to be struggling to get free from the chair.

"They won’t say a word," he smirked, stepping closer to them. "Will they?"

"We swear it," the Baron replied, his gaze locked with the General’s.

"If you disclose anything, the Soldier will find you and eliminate you."

The Baron nodded, accepting the condition, then refocused on his son, who was struggling to breathe.

The scene around the younger Zemo seemed to dissolve into a whirlwind of chaos. The deafening noise of shouts and voices mixed with a dull buzzing in his ears. His breathing was erratic, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He was injured, gravely so, he knew it. The searing pain in his left side radiated with every breath, every movement. But it wasn’t the pain that consumed his mind—it was the Soldier.

The Soldier was there, strapped to that cursed chair, about to be reset, to lose once again everything that made him human, everything that connected him to him. Young Zemo could see the internal struggle on the face of the man he loved, that silent battle against the inevitable, against oblivion. His hands clenched tightly around his father’s, Helmut watched the scene in despair, his body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. He couldn’t move, couldn’t act, the pain pinning him to the ground.

The Soldier, still bound, watched the scene in horror. He could feel the electrodes on his skull, ready to unleash hell, but what terrified him most was the possibility of losing the young master forever. Either he would die before his eyes, or he would forget him.

His eyes were locked on the young man, and despite the pain tearing through his mind, he managed to murmur his name, hoping he would hear him.

" Helmut… "

The sound of his name, whispered from the Soldier’s lips, made the world stop around the younger Zemo, piercing through the fog that had numbed him. Helmut’s breath hitched, his eyes widening as he slowly turned his gaze toward the source of that murmur.

It was the first time the Soldier had spoken his name. That single word, spoken in a barely audible voice laced with unspeakable sorrow, struck Helmut right in the heart. It was as if all the chaos in the room faded away, leaving only a bubble where only he and the Soldier existed.

Helmut’s eyes filled with tears. He knew it was a farewell. That name, his name, was the last vestige of a life the Soldier knew he was about to lose. The recognition in his gaze, the pain, the resignation, all mingled in a final moment of clarity before the erasure began.

“No…” Helmut murmured, his voice broken and too faint for anyone else in the room to hear except the Soldier. “Resist… Please…”

He slowly reached out his bloodied hand toward the Soldier, as if he could touch him, hold him back somehow, but he was too far, too powerless. The bond that united them was on the brink of being severed, and he could do nothing to prevent it. Every fiber of his being wanted to rise, to fight, to save him, but his body no longer responded. The pain, the shock, everything held him back.

Helmut felt tears spill over, rolling down his cheeks, his gaze fixed on the Soldier. He etched this moment into his memory, the last time the man he loved knew who he was, when their story was not yet erased by the cruelty of the machine and HYDRA. The world around them resumed its rhythm, Karpov shouting orders to the technicians, the noise of the instruments powering up, all threatening to engulf this last trace of their love.

But that simple name would forever echo within him, like a remnant of a broken promise, a love that even oblivion could not completely erase, or at least one Helmut could never forget. A name spoken with such pain and fatality that he wasn’t sure he would be ready to hear it again from anyone else.

The Soldier cast one last look at him, trying to convey everything he could not say, but a sinister hum suddenly emanated from the machines, and he tensed in agony.

The reset had begun. Violent electrical shocks coursed through the Soldier’s body, making him convulse in pain. An inhuman scream erupted from his throat, a blend of suffering and despair, echoing through the room as his flesh and metal fingers gripped the armrests tightly.

The technicians monitored the screens, indifferent to the Soldier’s screams.

Helmut, on the ground, watched in horror as tears streamed down his face, shaking with sobs of despair and emitting groans of pain.

The physical pain was unbearable, but it was overshadowed by the anguish of seeing the Soldier, his Солдат, being destroyed before his eyes. Each scream from the Soldier pierced his mind like a dagger, each convulsion tearing at his heart.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Soldier’s convulsions ceased. His body slumped limply in the chair, his chest rising with deep breaths, and his eyes open but lifeless, drained of all emotion.

The Soldier was no longer there, transformed into an empty shell, once again a puppet in HYDRA’s hands.

Strucker, satisfied to see the reset completed, finally lowered his weapon from the Baron’s cheek and turned to the other guards.

“Get them out of here,” he ordered the waiting guards. “They have no right to witness what comes next.”

The two guards rushed forward, grabbing Helmut and the Baron roughly, eliciting a cry of pain from the younger Zemo. The Baron violently shoved away the man holding his son and clutched him tightly, refusing to let go but helping him rise with more gentleness.

Helmut, too weak to defend himself, leaned all his weight on his father but turned his head one last time toward the Soldier. His eyes, once so full of life, were now empty, lost. He no longer knew who he was, and even less who Helmut was, whom he didn’t even look at. Despite his weakness, Helmut tried to call him.

“Солдат…”

Hearing this, the Soldier lifted his head towards him, but no recognition shone in his eyes. The man he loved had vanished, replaced by a soulless weapon, ready to obey orders without question from Karpov and HYDRA.

The words had not yet been spoken, and in a surge of both hope and despair, Helmut wanted to imprint his own words into the Soldier’s blank mind, in one last attempt to make an impact on his consciousness.

" Я тебя люблю, не забывай это... I love you, don't forget this..."

The Soldier stared at him, but the door closed behind them, cutting off the visual between them and sealing the Soldier’s tragic fate, remaining, for an undetermined amount of time, a slave to HYDRA.

Helmut leaned heavily on his father as they were escorted out of the room. Each step was torture, the pain from his wound radiating through his entire body, but it was the mental anguish that devastated him the most. The empty gaze of the Soldier haunted his thoughts, an echo of despair he could not ignore.

They were finally led to the infirmary, where one of the guards tersely informed a doctor that the youngest Zemo needed treatment, by Strucker’s orders. Helmut was laid on a bed, and a doctor immediately began working, administering a local anesthetic before removing the bullet lodged in his side. As the doctor worked, the Baron remained silent nearby, his face heavy with regret and shame. Helmut, his head muddled by pain and medication, felt a presence approach the bed. He weakly turned his head and saw the imposing figure of Rumlow, his face marked by severe bruises, a bandage on his nose, his eyes swollen and darkened.

Despite his weakness, a satisfied smile touched Helmut’s lips upon seeing the state he had left Rumlow in. For a brief moment, he savored this small victory. Rumlow approached, ready to threaten him or throw a scathing remark, but before he could say a word, the Baron stood and placed himself beside Rumlow, his face stern and determined.

Rumlow cast a disdainful glance at Helmut’s father, but the Baron, with an icy demeanor, did not flinch. Rumlow growled in frustration before turning on his heel and returning to his own bed, muttering under his breath. The Baron leaned over his son, trying to speak to him, to comfort him, but his words seemed futile against the distress consuming Helmut. He apologized, his voice trembling, for dragging him into this mad organization, for being blinded by HYDRA, for not understanding the truth sooner.

Helmut listened in silence, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He regretted nothing. Without this madness, he would never have met the Soldier. He finally replied, his voice weak but resolute, that it had all been worth it.

The doctor was now stitching his wound, applying a tight bandage around his torso. The Baron whispered to him that the Soldier was now lost, that what they had seen in that room left no room for hope. But Helmut shook his head, refusing to accept this reality. Though his skin was pale and his body weakened, his face hardened, marked by fierce resolution and determination.

Helmut, despite everything he had just endured, was not broken. He was ready to fight, to seek revenge, to save the one he loved, no matter the cost. No, he was not finished with them. He would track each one down, to the last, and HYDRA would pay for everything they had done. He would do everything in his power to free the Soldier from this hell, whether he remembered him or not. Because he, Helmut, would never forget.

Thirty minutes later, the helicopter sliced through the air, carrying the Baron and Helmut away from the hell they had left behind. The Zemo mansion loomed on the horizon, majestic and imposing, but for Helmut, it was now but a shadow of the refuge it had once been. Each vibration of the helicopter awakened a dull pain in his side, where the bullet had been removed, but the physical suffering was nothing compared to the emotional agony that devoured his mind.

When the helicopter finally landed on the estate, they were greeted by Oeznik, the Zemo family’s loyal butler. The old man’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and sadness at the sight of his masters, but especially seeing Helmut, whom he had not seen since the night he left him at the entrance to Novi Grad before his disappearance. Helmut, once so young and determined, now appeared older, marked by the horrors he had endured.

Oeznik felt guilty for the state of his young master, even though he knew deep down that Helmut was now an adult, responsible for his choices and their consequences. Nevertheless, a sense of responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. He bowed respectfully to the Baron and Helmut, silently offering his support.

Later that evening, as Helmut rested in his room, bedridden to recover from his wound, Rebecca entered to tend to him. The young woman, who had always been close to the family, felt torn with guilt. Seeing Helmut in this state, she could not help but feel profound shame. Helmut gave her an accusatory glance, without speaking a word. He knew. He knew she had betrayed his trust, and it gnawed at her from within. If the Soldier was not there to watch over him, and Helmut, wounded and broken, was alone in facing the darkness, it meant something bad had happened to him. Because of her. Rebecca lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze, and quietly left the room.

The next day, she presented her resignation to the Baron, her eyes misty with tears. She could no longer offend the family, not after what she had done. The Baron, though stern, accepted her decision, understanding that she needed to follow her own conscience.

***

Three days later, in the evening, Helmut, still weakened, managed to rise from his bed. He quietly descended to the kitchen, hoping to find something to eat. His steps were heavy, each movement a struggle, but he was determined to regain his strength. He managed to steal some fruit and biscuits, feeling almost childish in this secretive quest for food. But as he was about to return to his room, he suddenly felt the ground faintly vibrate beneath his feet.

A dreadful noise suddenly tore through the sky, a mechanical thunder that made the walls of the mansion tremble. Helmut froze, the fruit rolling to the floor as his heart raced. He rushed to the window, ignoring the pain radiating through his body, and peered into the darkness outside. He saw nothing, but the noise was undeniable, resonating in the night like a foreboding announcement.

He rushed back into the hall of the manor, each step stabbing through the relentless pain in his side. Oeznik and his father, their faces etched with terror, stood there, their eyes wide with panic. The Baron, in a grave and somber tone, announced that Novi Grad was under the relentless assault of an air raid. Shells were falling from the sky, reducing everything in their path to rubble.

Helmut's blood ran cold. It was the final onslaught: the UN or the American military had struck, and the end was inevitable. The capital, his city, the one that had cradled his childhood, was being transformed into a field of ruins. Every street, every building, every fragment of memory was being erased, annihilated by the war. The weight of helplessness crushed him. His heart clenched as he realized that everything he had known and loved was collapsing before his eyes.

He stormed out of the manor, his bare feet hitting the gravel of the driveway with desperate urgency. He looked up at the sky and saw a bomber flying above him, heading straight for the ruined city with a deafening roar. On the horizon, explosions painted an apocalyptic scene, illuminating the night with a hellish red. Flames devoured everything in their path, consuming the remnants of what Novi Grad had once been. Helmut suddenly felt drained, as if everything that had given meaning to his existence was being torn away from him. He stood there, under the fiery sky, his eyes fixed on the annihilation of everything he had cherished.

Under that blazing sky, Helmut was motionless, his heart heavy and his soul shattered. As the flames engulfed Novi Grad, a poignant truth struck him: everything he had lost would never be replaced. The Soldier, the city, his hopes... everything seemed to dissolve in this unleashed chaos. The absence of the Soldier, who had been his rock, his anchor in the storm, made his despair even more overwhelming. He was now alone, facing an uncertain and cruel future.

Yet, even through the devastating pain and the sense of abandonment, an unyielding resolve was born within him. He might not be able to fight against the UN or the United States, but he could battle against HYDRA, which had reduced everything he loved to ashes, but not his spirit. Helmut vowed to hunt down every man and woman involved in this madness, to make them pay for their actions. The world might crumble around him, but he would stand tall, a flame of vengeance burning in his veins. Even amidst the destruction, he carried with him the memory of the Soldier, and he would never allow that flame to be extinguished.

In the face of the devastating fire, a new era was dawning for Helmut Zemo. From these black and smoking ashes, his long and dark crusade would emerge, forged by loss and pain. A resolute quest for justice and redemption in a world torn apart by war and monstrosity.

Determined to protect his country and those he held dear, he stood ready to face the darkness, challenging the storm alone. He knew the road would be long and perilous, that sacrifices would be many, but his spirit was unyielding. Whether it was HYDRA or other ruthless organizations, he swore to annihilate them, to fight until his last breath to destroy those who had sown chaos in his life and in his heart.

Chapter Text

Years had slipped by like a dark dream since that fateful night in March 1999, when the skies over Novi Grad had ignited under a rain of fire, leaving the city shattered and hearts in ashes. Helmut Zemo, barely a young adult, had witnessed, powerless, the destruction of everything he had ever loved. But amid the ruins of his existence, a flame had ignited, a fierce determination that would never extinguish.

Shortly after, Helmut joined the Sokovian army, driven by a burning desire to defend what remained of his country. With relentless rigor, he pushed his body and mind beyond their limits, quickly becoming one of the best. His official mission was to protect Sokovia, but a deeper, darker purpose animated each of his actions: an unquenchable hatred for HYDRA, the organization that had destroyed his life and stolen the Soldier of his heart. Every night, his mind returned to that man, wondering where he was, if he still suffered under HYDRA's yoke. That memory, that love, became the driving force of his silent revenge.

The arranged marriage with Heike, orchestrated by his father a few years after the tragedy, opened a new chapter in his life. Heike was beautiful, kind, understanding, and Helmut held a sincere respect for her, despite his secret inclinations. She was a soothing light in the darkness of his soul, but even in her presence, the memory of the Soldier never left him, an invisible but ever-gaping wound.

Behind the mask of the devoted soldier, Helmut Zemo was plotting his revenge. Perfecting his skills, weaving networks, gathering information, he vowed to hunt down HYDRA to its last cell. But beyond this vendetta, he harbored the mad hope of finding the Soldier, of freeing him from the chains of a life of suffering and oblivion. He didn’t know if the Soldier remembered him, if he could still recognize his face. But one thing was certain: he had to try. For him, for them, for what they had been.

***

Time passed, forging Helmut into a man of steel and ice. With each mission, his name was etched into the annals of the Sokovian army. His rise through the ranks was swift, inevitable, culminating in a promotion to colonel. But for Helmut, this was merely a step in his quest for justice—or rather, vengeance.

Helmut knew he needed to go further, that he required control, real power to achieve his ultimate goal: to eradicate HYDRA from the face of the Earth and free the Soldier. Thus, he decided to form EKO Scorpion, a special unit, an elite and relentless force operating outside conventional norms. This was not just a squad of elite soldiers but a secret weapon, an extension of his will.

Their emblem, a black scorpion on a red background, symbolized their nature: discreet yet deadly. Helmut selected his members with obsessive precision, choosing those who excelled in close combat, infiltration, intelligence, but most importantly, those whose loyalty to him would be unwavering. These men and women were prepared to sacrifice everything for their mission, believing they served the greater good of Sokovia.

Officially, EKO Scorpion protected Sokovia from internal and external threats. But in reality, this unit was Zemo's secret weapon in his war against HYDRA. Under his command, EKO Scorpion conducted assassination, sabotage, and extraction operations, operating in the utmost secrecy, under the radar of governments. The unit's reputation grew, as did Zemo's, who became a mythical figure, a hero to some, a threatening shadow to others.

However, even as his renown reached new heights, Helmut remained haunted by an older pain. He fought not only for Sokovia but to find the one he had lost.

***

Zemo’s life shifted dramatically when he learned that Heike was pregnant. The news struck him like a lightning bolt, disrupting the focus he had always dedicated to his crusade against HYDRA. The name "Carl" quickly became the choice for their son, a tribute to Heike's grandfather. The prospect of fatherhood intensified his determination. He saw each mission as a crucial step in building a secure future for Carl. But despite this perspective, Helmut did not slow down. His obsession with HYDRA took precedence over everything, even over his growing family.

Heike, aware of her husband's growing distance, worried for him, for them, for the unborn child. She hoped that one day he would find peace. But Helmut was too deeply invested in his quest for vengeance to stop. He was preparing to become a father while continuing his work, ready to sacrifice everything for Carl's future, a future he wanted free of HYDRA’s horrors.

***

The weeks leading up to Heike's delivery were marked by increasing tension. Helmut, informed of a convoy carrying children involved in HYDRA-related trafficking crossing the Sokovian mountains, decided to target it. He knew this would violate an old pact sealed between his family and Commander Strucker, but he could not tolerate the idea of children being in danger.

That night, Helmut and his unit set up an ambush in the mountains. The operation began as planned, and they succeeded in freeing the children. But as they were escaping, with Helmut driving the stolen van carrying the children, a gunshot rang out, sending the van out of control. Helmut, wounded but conscious, managed to evacuate the children after the crash, being picked up by another soldier who was following closely with their pickup. But Zemo knew that the danger was not over.

He stayed behind, searching for the sniper in the darkness, and it was at that moment that Helmut was attacked and thrown to the ground by surprise. As he turned swiftly, ready to fight back, he was struck by the sight before him. And time seemed to stop.

The Soldier stood there, in front of him, straddling his body, impassive, aiming his rifle at Helmut. But something in his gaze betrayed confusion, as if a sliver of humanity, a fragment of memory, was trying to resurface.

"Солдат..." murmured Helmut, his voice trembling. It was not just about saving his life, but the genuine desire to awaken a buried memory, to remind this man of the love they had shared.

The Soldier remained frozen, but a glimmer of doubt crossed his gaze. Everyone around him called him the Soldier or the Asset, but only his Handler Karpov addressed him in Russian like this. And the emotion conveyed through his name by the man beneath him was very different. No one had ever spoken to him with such… tenderness.

Helmut straightened up, his eyes fixed on him. He spoke softly, each word laden with feeling and despair, trying to break the chains that held the man he had known and loved.

"Do you remember me, Солдат? I know you’ve forgotten me, but I have never forgotten you... I’ve been searching for you for almost eleven years… to save you." His voice grew more assured, though each word seemed to weigh a ton. "I am Helmut Zemo, son of Baron Heinrich Zemo… You used to call me Master…"

The Soldier’s rifle wavered. He was struggling against an inner force, an echo telling him that this man before him was speaking the truth. From the moment their eyes had met, the Soldier had not seen fear as he was accustomed to seeing in his prey, his victims. No. This man, this Zemo, had shown a glimmer of surprise, hope, joy.

This man knew him.

Helmut felt that he had touched something, a small crack in the armor of HYDRA’s control.

"I lost you once, and I… I don’t want to lose you again." His eyes anchored into the Soldier’s, his gaze filled with an intensity almost painful. "We have a past, you and I. A past that HYDRA stole from you. A future they deprived us of…"

Helmut perceived the Soldier’s internal struggle and realized that he had managed to sow doubt, to create a small crack in the mental armor shaped by HYDRA. He didn’t know if it would be enough to break the chains imprisoning the Soldier, but for the first time in years, he felt hope of reclaiming a fragment of the man he had loved. The Soldier had not yet fired. He had not yet made his decision. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance.

The snow began to fall gently, covering the world in a white, silent, immaculate blanket. Each flake seemed to add to the palpable tension in the night. The darkness of the mountains grew softer, as the calm of the moment seemed suspended in time.

The silence grew heavier. Helmut, seizing the moment, slowly raised a hand toward the Soldier, gently brushing his face. The Soldier flinched, grasping the wrist of the man near his face, but did not move. Helmut, aware of the fragility of the moment, continued carefully despite the metal fingers around his wrist, slowly unfastening the Soldier’s mask. The face he revealed, still young despite the years, made his heart beat faster.

Despite the years, his features remained youthful and beautiful, unchanged, frozen in eternal youth. This vision tightened Helmut’s heart. He knew that HYDRA used inhumane methods to keep the Soldier in this state, but seeing with his own eyes the man he loved, intact despite the passage of time, struck him deeply.

The Soldier, now fully revealed, remained motionless, his gaze a mixture of confusion and hesitation. He had no memory of the man lying beneath him, but something in his voice and eyes awakened a resonance, a distant echo that eluded him. His mind, broken and fragmented, was trying to piece together the scattered pieces of a distant dream.

The Soldier, troubled, could not understand the emotion rising within him. Helmut, with infinite tenderness, extended his other hand to push the rifle away, trying to revive the memory of a lost love, to rekindle the man he had so long searched for.

In a barely audible voice, the Soldier stammered, his question laden with uncertainty.

"Do I… know you…?"

Tears threatened to spill from Helmut's eyes, overwhelmed by a wave of relief mixed with deep pain. He nodded gently, his voice trembling but determined as he slightly raised himself to get closer to the Soldier.

"Yes, you know me. We shared something… something precious," he said, tenderly adjusting a lock of hair that had fallen in front of the Soldier's eyes. “You and I… we loved each other…” He managed an authentic smile, but his features twisted with sadness and the weight of the pain from all these years that flooded back to him. “W-We wanted to escape the chaos of this world, to flee from HYDRA, to live in peace… But…” His gaze drifted for a brief moment, recalling that painful day, but he quickly locked eyes with the Soldier again, wanting to imprint this moment in his memory for as long as possible. “But they found us, and they violently tore us apart… They made you forget everything, including our love…” He took a deep breath, trying to regain his strength. “All these years without you have been horrible, Солдат… I thought I’d lost you… that you were out of reach… But I never lost hope,” he said, shaking his head, “for a moment like this to happen…”

The Soldier, still troubled, listened. His gaze shifted between confusion and a flicker of recognition. Although he had no clear memory of the moments Zemo described, something in his words resonated, an echo of deeply buried emotions. The words of this man, laden with pain and nostalgia, seemed to touch something fundamental within him, like a fragment of lost truth.

The snow was falling harder, enveloping the two men in a white cocoon. Helmut straightened up further, his eyes shining with unshakable determination.

“I will free you from HYDRA's grasp, Солдат…”

The Soldier looked at him intently, torn between the heresy of this statement and the burning desire to run away with this man. It was an unresolved mystery, an internal battle between HYDRA's manipulation and the shadow of fading memories. As past and present intertwined in a fragile embrace, Helmut leaned in delicately and, in a final act of tenderness, pressed his lips to the Soldier’s.

The sensation was electrifying for Helmut, more intense than anything he could have imagined. Despite his hopes, he had never believed it possible to find him again, much less to relive this precious moment.

The Soldier, though surprised, did not pull away. The unexpected power of the kiss froze him, and a flicker of a forgotten memory flashed in his mind. A fleeting image: two souls kissing in the dim light of a room, soft and warm lips bringing respite to his tormented soul.

In his confusion, a distant echo surfaced within him, and without thinking, he timidly responded to the kiss, as if it were a reflex lost in time. Helmut, sensing the Soldier's response, felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, knowing that the Soldier was trusting his instincts more than his memory.

" Ты мне так невыносимо не хватало I missed you so unbearably much…” Helmut murmured against his lips, his voice breaking with emotion. “ Я думал, что потерял тебя навсегда I thought I had lost you forever..."

The words escaped his lips like a breath, infused with sincerity and the pain accumulated over the years. The Soldier, still confused, felt the weight of these words, their truth seeping into his muddled mind. Even though he wasn’t certain, a part of him could not ignore the echo of this life that eluded him but that he still felt somewhere deep inside.

As the snow continued to fall gently around them, Helmut and the Soldier remained there, suspended in the moment. This first kiss, so unexpected, had opened a crack in the fortress of conditioning and pain that surrounded the Soldier. A gentle warmth, almost unreal, spread through him, a feeling so starkly different from everything he had known in recent years. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling, but what he did know was that he had never experienced anything so soothing.

Helmut, for his part, was overwhelmed by a wave of long-repressed emotions. Feeling the Soldier's lips against his own was like coming back to life after years of suffering and loss. It was the first time he felt whole since HYDRA had torn them apart. The sensation was so intense it almost seemed unreal, and he clung desperately to this moment, fearing it might vanish like a dream.

The kiss, initially soft and timid, grew more intense. Helmut felt the pressure increase as the Soldier, in an instinctive gesture, responded with more fervor. One of Helmut's hands slid behind the Soldier’s neck, pulling him closer, as if he feared he might slip away again. His other hand rested on the Soldier’s hip, his fingers gripping his uniform in a desperate attempt to keep him close. The familiar taste of his lips, the burning contact of his skin, all of it brought back memories he had tried to bury, memories of a time when they were still together, free to live their love.

The Soldier, for his part, felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading through him, chasing away the cold that had ruled his heart for so long. He didn’t understand this feeling, but it brought him an unexpected, almost suffocating, sense of well-being. His own hand, almost involuntarily, tightened against Zemo, gripping his shoulder with a force that betrayed the intensity of what he was feeling. He had no clear memories of this man, but he knew that this tenderness, this softness he was receiving, was something he had maybe known before. In the depths of his confusion, he found a comfort he had never imagined possible.

The kiss turned into a desperate exchange, their lips pressing against each other and their tongues dancing as if their lives depended on it. For Helmut, it was a visceral need to fill the void of all those lost years, to make up for every moment they should have been together. He felt his heart pounding wildly, a bittersweet pain filling his chest as he poured all his pain, love, and hope into this kiss. He knew their time was limited, that this stolen moment in the night wouldn’t last forever, and that only intensified the urgency of his actions.

For the Soldier, it was an escape, an oasis in a desert of violence and cold. All he had known was suffering, pain, war. This tenderness, this human connection, was something that deeply unsettled him, but he couldn’t help but cling to it. His metal hand gently rested on Helmut’s waist, a gesture that, for once, wasn’t meant to hurt or kill. It was a touch he didn’t understand, but one he didn’t want to see fade away. The violence that HYDRA had instilled in him, that dull rage he carried inside, seemed to diminish in the face of this unexpected warmth.

They clung to each other like castaways in a stormy sea, seeking comfort they hadn’t known for far too long. Their breaths mingled, panting, as the world around them disappeared. They were nothing more than two lost souls, trying to reclaim a humanity that had been stolen from them. But reality, relentless, caught up with them.

A dull noise echoed through the night—a gunshot, brutal and unexpected. The shock of the explosion shattered the mountain's silence, and shards of wood flew into the air, the bullet striking the tree right beside them. The Soldier, reacting purely on instinct, abruptly broke away from Zemo, his eyes widening in surprise. He immediately straightened, his rifle already aimed at the source of the shot, his entire body tensing into alert.

In that second of confusion, the Soldier searched for the enemy among the shadows, ready to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, Helmut, recognizing one of his men through the foliage, rushed forward, grabbing the Soldier's arm with a firm hand.

"Don’t shoot!" Helmut cried out, his heart pounding even harder at the thought of what could have happened.

The Soldier, troubled, hesitated for a moment longer before slowly releasing the pressure on the trigger. He then turned to Zemo, a new wave of confusion washing over him. The realization that he was malfunctioning, that he was failing his mission, hit him suddenly. He needed to report to Karpov; he needed to be reset before he lost control completely.

Helmut, seeing this internal struggle in the Soldier's eyes, felt a rising panic. He shook his head, desperate, understanding what this meant. The Soldier was going to flee, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

“No no no no no, please don’t..!”

Another gunshot rang out, ricocheting off the Soldier's metal arm. With one last look, heavy with regret and distress, the Soldier turned away and disappeared into the darkness of the night. Helmut stood frozen for a moment, unable to react, the void left by the Soldier's departure hitting him full force.

Rage and frustration suddenly overwhelmed him, a silent scream choked in his throat. He stomped violently into the snow, his fists clenched, before turning towards his man, who was running towards him.

"Colonel, are you alright ? I... I thought this man was hurting you," the man said, panting.

Helmut shook his head, trying to control the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. It wasn’t his man’s fault, he couldn’t blame him.

“It’s… I’m fine,” he replied in a hoarse voice. “Let’s go back to the base.”

As they walked toward the car, Helmut felt exhausted, drained, but deep down, a small flame of hope still burned. The Soldier had allowed himself to be approached, had allowed himself to be kissed. It was a glimmer in the darkness. And that, Helmut knew, was a victory in itself.

Sitting in the car as they drove away from the snowy forest, Helmut stared at the passing landscape, lost in thought. He knew that the path to saving the Soldier would be long and difficult, but he was ready to do whatever it took to succeed. He now knew that he still had a hold on him, a chance to break HYDRA’s chains. It was all a matter of time, and Helmut was willing to wait, to fight, until he could finally free the man he loved. Time, for him, had become a precious ally. And as long as there was a glimmer of hope, Helmut Zemo would never give up.

***

Four years had passed since that freezing night in the forest when Zemo had watched the Soldier disappear into the darkness. Four years of relentless pursuit, meticulous planning, and sacrifices. The military camp of EKO Scorpion in Sokovia had become his sanctuary, a place where he immersed himself completely in his research to uncover the truth about HYDRA and the secrets they hid. He had become obsessed with one thing: destroying those who had destroyed his life.

That night, the sky was dark, lit only by the cold glow of the computer screens that illuminated his desk. Files were piled up on his desk, documents scattered around him, evidence of his hard work. Suddenly, a notification appeared on his screen, breaking the hushed silence of the room. A brief alert indicating a massive leak of confidential information. Helmut, intrigued, quickly opened the window and stumbled upon a digital goldmine: all of HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s information had been published on the Internet.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. His heart raced as he frantically scrolled through the files. Thousands of documents, secret reports, names, locations—everything was there, exposed for all to see. And behind this monumental leak was a name he was not unfamiliar with: Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow, a member of the Avengers.

“So, the Avengers managed to bring down HYDRA…” He smirked before letting out a small laugh. “Who would have thought that my son’s heroes would become mine as well…”

Helmut felt a wave of excitement wash over him. This leak was an unexpected opportunity. He knew that this information could disappear as quickly as it had appeared, so he didn’t waste a moment. He spent the entire night downloading, storing, and organizing every file he could find. His tired eyes scanned the lines of text, dissecting every piece of information, every word, every detail. Each new file he opened was another piece of the puzzle he had been trying to solve for years.

Days passed, and Helmut continued his work, locking himself in his office, almost forgetting to sleep or eat. Only these data mattered, and he made sure not to miss anything. His obsession with the truth, with his revenge, had never been stronger.

Then, one night, as he was poring over yet another file, his attention was drawn to a particular file titled " Зимний Солдат Winter Soldier". His fingers trembled slightly as he clicked on it. His heart skipped a beat. He knew what it was about: the Winter Soldier. The man who had haunted his thoughts for nearly fifteen years. Helmut opened the file carefully, as if handling a sacred relic.

Inside, he discovered the complete story of the Winter Soldier, far more detailed than anything he could have imagined. Every word he read was a dagger, revealing the horror of the fate that had been imposed on the man he had loved.

The file traced the origin of the Winter Soldier, once known as James Buchanan Barnes, a sergeant in the U.S. Army and best friend of Steven Rogers, also known as Captain America.

So Rogers was the famous Steve..

He continued reading. Captured by HYDRA during World War II, Barnes had been subjected to horrific experiments, designed to enhance his body and turn him into a living weapon.

“James…” He looked at a photo of the Winter Soldier. “That name suits you rather well…”

Helmut discovered with horror the details of the physical and psychological tortures inflicted on Barnes. HYDRA scientists, led by Arnim Zola, had brainwashed him, systematically erasing his memories and identity to reprogram him as the Winter Soldier—a soulless killing machine, blindly following orders. Whenever he showed signs of rebellion or emerging memories, he was "reset" through a brutal re-indoctrination process, often accompanied by excruciating pain.

Even though he knew of these horrors and had witnessed some of them, reading this information in detailed, emotionless reports, speaking of a human being as if he were a machine, made him nauseous.

The file also contained mission reports, detailed accounts of every operation Barnes had participated in as the Winter Soldier. Assassinations, sabotage, kidnappings—a seemingly endless list of crimes committed under HYDRA’s influence. But what struck Helmut the most was the manner in which these missions were carried out—ruthlessly, with clinical precision, and most notably, with no memory of these acts left to the man behind the weapon.

He also uncovered information about the numerous attempts to control the Soldier, the cruel methods used to ensure his loyalty: re-education sessions involving torture, mental manipulation, and control through trigger words—a series of phrases that, once spoken, would plunge the Soldier into a trance-like state, ready to obey any order without question. These words were the keys to the conditioning that maintained Barnes as the Winter Soldier.

" The trigger words... " He squinted as Karpov's name appeared, accompanied by a photo of him holding a red book adorned with a black star. He read the small print next to it. " The last official handler to hold full control over the Winter Soldier... "

But the words were nowhere to be found. They must be in that book. And Karpov probably still had it, wherever he was.

Another document, particularly disturbing, revealed how HYDRA had deliberately deprived the Soldier of any form of human connection, isolating him to ensure he remained a killing machine, devoid of emotions. They had stolen not only his past but also his future, condemning him to an endless cycle of violence and obedience.

Helmut felt a deep rage rising within him. This man, this human being who had been reduced to a mere tool by HYDRA, was the one he had lost, the one he still loved. The depth of the tragedy overwhelmed him, the reality of what Barnes had endured becoming unbearable. But amidst this pain, a resolution formed within him, stronger than ever. He had to end this horror. He had to destroy HYDRA, avenge the Soldier, and perhaps give him a chance for redemption, to regain what he had lost.

Helmut continued to read, absorbing every detail with relentless precision. Each page turned strengthened his determination. The Winter Soldier was not a machine, not a monster. He was a broken man, manipulated, who had been torn from his life, from his humanity. And Helmut knew he had to act. The hope of saving him, of freeing James Barnes from HYDRA's control, fueled his desire for revenge. A revenge that would no longer be satisfied with merely destroying the organization that had committed these crimes, but also sought to restore a life to the man who had been sacrificed on the altar of their ambition.

The night was late, but Zemo no longer felt fatigue. His mind, sharpened by cold hatred, was already devising plans. He knew the road would be long and dangerous, but for the first time in years, he had a weapon that HYDRA could not take from him: the truth.

And with that truth, he intended to make them pay for every act, every torture, every stolen life. Helmut was ready to go all the way. For the Soldier, for James, he would never give up.

***

The following year, the atmosphere in Sokovia grew increasingly tense, and Helmut could not ignore the alarming signs multiplying around the isolated fortress where Wolfgang von Strucker had holed up. Although HYDRA's downfall had been a significant blow to the organization, Strucker seemed strangely unaffected by this defeat. Helmut would have thought that the HYDRA officer would lie low, maybe even leave the region to escape justice. But instead, the activities at the fortress seemed to intensify, becoming more suspicious and conspicuous as time passed.

One day, while Helmut was at home with his son Carl, he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the television broadcasting the evening news. Helmut sat on the couch, coffee cup in hand, ready to relax for a moment. But what he saw on the screen froze him in place.

The news anchor spoke with palpable urgency, describing a critical situation unfolding just a few kilometers from their home. The Avengers, the heroes who had saved New York from the Chitauri invasion and prevented the total destruction of Washington, D.C., during the fall of the Triskelion, were in Sokovia. They were on a mission to intervene at Strucker's fortress.

Carl, who was playing with his toy cars on the carpet, suddenly looked up when he heard the Avengers' names. His eyes lit up with excitement as he saw images of the heroes in action on the screen. Iron Man, Captain America, Thor... they were all there, fighting HYDRA's forces.

" Ocko, ocko, pozri! To sú Avengers! Sú tu v Sokovii! Môžeme ich ísť pozrieť? Prosím! Dad, dad, look! It's the Avengers! They're here in Sokovia! Can we go see them? Please!" Carl, overwhelmed with excitement at the possibility of seeing his favorite superheroes in person, turned to Helmut, his eyes shining with hope.

Helmut set his coffee cup on the table, his mind troubled by a mix of emotions. Seeing his son so happy was a comforting sight, but the reality of what was happening at the fortress was much darker. He knew that every Avengers intervention was accompanied by chaos, destruction, and often, casualties. The events in New York and Washington, D.C., were still fresh in his mind. Wherever the Avengers went, battles raged, and the consequences were often tragic.

Helmut leaned towards Carl, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

" Carl, môj chlapče, je to tam príliš nebezpečné. Avengers bojujú s veľmi nebezpečnými ľuďmi, a je lepšie, ak zostaneme tu, v bezpečí. Carl, my boy, it's too dangerous there. The Avengers are fighting very dangerous people, and it's better if we stay here, where it's safe" He saw the disappointment in his son's eyes and smiled gently at him. " Sľubujem ti, že ich pôjdeme pozrieť neskôr, keď porazia zloduchov. Ale teraz je lepšie, aby sme sa držali bokom, dobre? I promise you, we'll go see them later, when they defeat the villains. But for now, it's better if we stay out of the way, okay?"

Carl nodded, reluctantly accepting his father's decision. Helmut gently hugged him, resting his chin on the top of his head, his mind tormented. He couldn’t help but think about what this battle might lead to. He knew the Avengers were there to retrieve something important and maybe dangerous. But deep down, Helmut felt a growing anxiety. The Avengers' presence in Sokovia was a sign that something serious was about to happen. He was convinced that he needed to keep Carl away from all of it, from the imminent chaos.

***

A few months had passed since the Avengers' intervention in Sokovia. The fortress where Strucker had been stationed lay in ruins, and HYDRA finally seemed to be faltering under the repeated blows of its enemies. Yet, Helmut couldn't shake a feeling of apprehension.

One day, while he was working with his squad at the military base, a rumor began to circulate among the soldiers. Something unusual, extraordinary, was happening once again on the other side of the world. Helmut, absorbed in a stack of documents, perked up when he heard his name mentioned in a whisper.

"Zemo, did you hear? On the radio, they’re saying that the Avengers are in South Korea, in Seoul. They’re fighting... robots, apparently. An army of robots..!"

Helmut raised his head, incredulous. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Robots? Seriously? He got up from his chair and headed towards the place where several soldiers were gathered around an old radio.

“Shh!” he ordered as he arrived, listening carefully to the snippets of news coming from the device. The announcer's voice was tense, almost trembling.

" ... the Avengers are trying to stop an entity called Ultron, an artificial intelligence that is said to have created an army of destructive robots. It seems that Ultron's goal is to wipe out humanity, claiming that it's the only way to save the planet... "

Helmut felt a chill run down his spine. An artificial intelligence wanting to eradicate humanity? This was madness. First, alien invaders, now killer robots... What would come next? Mad magicians, maybe? 

He pushed that thought aside with an annoyed gesture. It was as if the world was getting crazier by the day. He clenched his fists, trying to focus on the immediate situation, but anxiety was rising within him. If Ultron, this insane AI, was as dangerous as it seemed, that meant no one was safe.

Helmut buried his face in his hands, a long sigh escaping his lips. He hoped that this battle, as destructive as it might be, would stay far away from his home, far from Sokovia.

His thoughts drifted to Carl. He didn’t want his son to grow up in a world where such threats had become almost commonplace. Helmut knew the Avengers were doing everything they could to stop Ultron, but the idea of an entity capable of generating armies in the blink of an eye seemed insurmountable to him.

The rumors on the radio continued, reporting increasingly troubling details about the conflict in Seoul. Helmut knew he had to focus on his mission, on his men, but his mind was elsewhere, plunged into dark and tormented thoughts. The world was changing, becoming an increasingly dangerous place, and despite all his determination, he felt like his efforts to protect what he loved were in vain.

And he had no idea how right he was.

***

That day was the last.

Having heard the sky tear apart and the ground shake, Zemo had rushed out of the military base in the mountains surrounding the capital. All his soldiers had done the same. And they all stood there, eyes lifted to the sky.

Before him, on the horizon, a part of Novi Grad was slowly rising into the sky. Entire buildings, streets, entire neighborhoods floated as if torn from the earth by an unstoppable force, forming a massive block of earth, stone, and concrete. There was an unreal quality to this vision, as if the world had suddenly inverted, turned upside down in an absurd and nightmarish logic. There were thrusters under the city roaring, their bright flames casting distorted shadows on the ground below, which now looked like nothing more than a giant crater.

Helmut stood frozen, eyes wide, unable to look away. It was a waking nightmare, a scene straight from the depths of horror. A cold terror seized him, choking his breath. He felt tiny, insignificant in the face of this titanic event, like an insect before the crushing hand of a capricious god.

The ground beneath his feet seemed to recede despite the vibrations, leaving him to fall into an endless abyss. A part of his city, his country, was rising into the skies, dragged toward inevitable destruction. He was witnessing an apocalypse, and the helplessness he felt overwhelmed him like a freezing wave.

He shook his head, trying to regain his composure, but the terror crushed his chest. In a desperate gesture, he took out his phone and called his wife. The phone rang once, twice, three times, each sound bringing him closer to panic. Finally, Heike’s voice came through on the other end.

“Heike!” Helmut cried, his voice broken with urgency. “Are you okay?! Where are you right now?!”

“Helmut..!” His wife’s voice was trembling but calm, soothing. “We’re on the road. Carl and I are heading to your father’s manor. We’re far from the city. Where are you?”

A sigh of relief escaped Helmut, a fraction of the anxiety lifting from his shoulders.

“Stay there. Don’t come back. I… I don’t know what’s happening, but stay safe. I love you, Heike. You and Carl.”

“We love you too, but please, don’t do anything stupid, Helmut..!”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, then hung up. His legs were shaking, but he forced himself to stand, his eyes fixed on the apocalyptic scene unfolding before him, miles away, just like his men. He could do nothing, nothing but watch, helpless, as his city, his home, was torn from the land like a clod of earth.

“ My home… My wife… ” one of his men, Hank, muttered, completely drained, his eyes locked on the capital. “ They’re… they’re up there… ”

Helmut looked at him, a dull panic squeezing his chest, before raising his eyes back to the city. The sky seemed to be collapsing around him, as if the entire world was plunging into chaos. He was trapped in this vision of horror, a powerless spectator to the destruction of everything he had known. A part of him screamed, raged against the injustice, the horror of this situation, but the words stuck in his throat, stifled by terror. He wanted to reassure his friend beside him, but he had neither the words nor the strength to lie.

This was Ultron’s work. He knew it now. He could see it flying from here with its swarm of robots, pursued by the Avengers themselves. This machine, this aberration, had found a way to turn an entire city into a weapon of mass destruction. And Helmut, a mere human, a soldier among many, was nothing in the face of this madness.

He remained there, frozen, as the ground beneath his feet seemed to collapse into a bottomless pit. Despair and helplessness pinned him in place, preventing him from moving, from thinking. He was witnessing the end of a world, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing but watch.

The silence was deafening, each second stretching into eternity. Then, like a terrible truth suddenly realized, a thought cut through him, clear as crystal: everything that goes up must come down.

And suddenly, reality hit him with crushing brutality. The city, which had seemed to float in the air with a macabre grace, began to disintegrate. Entire sections of buildings, massive blocks of concrete, pieces of roads and sidewalks detached, falling from the sky like a hellish rain of debris.

Zemo’s breath caught, his heart skipped a beat. He watched, helpless, as the first stones crashed to the ground with terrifying force, raising clouds of dust and rubble. The earth shook under the impact, as if even it was screaming under this apocalyptic assault.

Then, everything fell apart. A huge boulder, detached from the massive free-fall, crashed brutally not far from him. Zemo flinched violently, his soldier instincts taking over. He turned his head just in time to see one of his men, a soldier he had known for years, reduced to a shapeless mass of flesh and blood under the impact, splattering a carmine spray directly onto Helmut a few meters away. It was so quick, so brutal, that the scene didn’t seem real at first.

Panic suddenly gripped the base. Screams of terror and agony rose around him as the soldiers, his comrades, began to run, desperately seeking shelter. But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to feel safe. The debris fell in an incessant rain, crushing everything in their path.

Zemo started running, his muscles tense with fear, dodging the falling blocks as best he could. Every blow resonated in his skull with the force of a thunderbolt The screams intensified, blending with the crash of debris and the shouted orders that were lost in the chaos.

He saw crushed, dismembered bodies, some trapped under the rubble, screaming for help. But he could do nothing for them. He could only run, save his own life. The ground trembled under his feet with each new fall of debris, making his run even more uncertain, more desperate.

As another massive chunk of the fallen city crashed down nearby, Helmut instinctively dove, rolling to the side to avoid being crushed. He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding wildly, and sprinted towards the nearest shelter, a concrete building that seemed miraculously intact despite the carnage around it.

He reached the entrance, stumbling, and pushed the doors open with all the strength of desperation. He rushed inside, just in time to hear an ear-splitting crash behind him. Part of the building collapsed under the impact of a piece of the city that had fallen from the sky. Shards of concrete and glass flew through the air, knocking him to the ground.

Winded and with his ears ringing, Helmut struggled to get up, covered in dust and blood. The building still stood, but it was partially destroyed, with cracked walls ready to crumble at any moment. He was safe, for now, but the nightmare continued to unfold just outside. And he knew the sky could come crashing down on him at any moment.

He was going to die here, today, like so many of his men, like so many civilians.

Breathing heavily, he slid down against a wall, his legs no longer able to support him. His life was hanging by a thread, but for how long? He had lost too many of his men, too many lives had been taken by this horror. Helmut closed his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to catch his breath, to make sense of what he had just experienced.

But there was nothing to make sense of. This was the end of the world, or at least, that’s what it felt like. And he was just a man, powerless, caught in an event that was beyond him, beyond all of them.

As part of the structure’s wall partially collapsed on him, he curled up as best as he could to avoid being crushed.

Engulfed in the darkness of chaos and the air thick with dust, Zemo silently and desperately hoped that his wife and son were safe at his father’s house. 

And as the oxygen began to thin, Zemo slowly slipped into unconsciousness, his mind drifting towards the hope that a metal hand would come to pull him out of this hell.

***

A year had passed since the fall of Sokovia, and Helmut Zemo had become a shadow of the man he once was. The catastrophe had ravaged his life, leaving behind a desert of emotions, an unbearable void. Every day, he relived the horror of that day when everything he loved had been brutally and mercilessly torn away.

The family mansion, located miles away from Novi Grad, should have been a safe refuge for his family. But even at that distance, chaos had found its target. A massive rock, detached from the doomed city, had crashed into the estate. What should have been an ordinary afternoon had turned into a nightmare.

Helmut had been unable to save anyone. The servants, his father, his wife Heike, and his son Carl... all had been reduced to dust beneath the rubble. He hadn't been able to say goodbye, to promise them that everything would be alright. The image of their bodies, buried under the stone, haunted his days and nights.

The pain had settled within him, deep and visceral. It had given way to something even darker: rage. A rage that bubbled in his veins, feeding on the guilt and hatred he felt towards those he held responsible for the tragedy. The Avengers. Those heroes whom the world adored but who, for him, had become the destroyers of his life.

He had learned, over the months, that the creature responsible for the fall of Sokovia, Ultron, was the creation of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Two men who, in their arrogance, had played with forces they did not fully understand, thus condemning his entire family.

Helmut knew that as a man, a mere human, he could not confront them directly. They were too powerful, too untouchable. But they had flaws, vulnerabilities he could exploit. He began to forge a plan, dark and methodical, aimed at tearing them apart from within. If the Avengers were responsible for his loss, he would make them burn with their own arrogance, their own division.

The announcement of the Sokovia Accords, which regulated superhero interventions to prevent further disasters like the one that had destroyed his life, was the catalyst. Zemo realized that this accord, far from uniting the Avengers, would divide them. Stark and Rogers had differing visions of the world, ideals that drove them down opposing paths. Zemo knew this was his chance, using the information he had gathered from HYDRA, particularly about the mission on December 16, 1991.

But to carry out his plan, he had to resolve to an action that tore him apart inside. He had to involve James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The man who, though broken and manipulated by HYDRA, had held such a special place in his heart. James had managed to free himself from HYDRA’s grasp, to reclaim part of his humanity. Zemo would have wanted to find him, to fully liberate him, but the hatred consuming his heart left him no choice.

Involving James in this plot was nothing personal. It was a necessity, a crucial step to achieving his ultimate goal. Zemo was desperate to reunite with the man he had loved, to reconnect with him, but this desire was stifled by pain and hatred. Before he could even entertain that possibility, he had to avenge those he had loved more than anything and whom the Avengers had taken from him.

But before that, he had to set up the bomb in Vienna to flush out and falsely accuse the man who, despite the events and the years, still possessed his heart.

***

He stood there in his hotel room in Berlin, his hands trembling as he clutched the red book he had retrieved in Cleveland, containing the trigger words for the Winter Soldier, which he continued to recite. Killing Karpov had been cathartic, a deeply personal act of revenge. This man had shattered the Soldier, and with him, Zemo.

Every fiber of his being rebelled against what he was about to do. But there was no turning back. His eyes, once filled with tenderness, were now icy with determination and hatred.

He cast one last look at Theo Broussard’s body in the bathtub, feeling a pang of guilt for the man who had done nothing to deserve this.

But to achieve justice, to exact vengeance, he was ready to sacrifice what remained of his soul. And despite his betrayal to James, he knew Rogers would give his life to protect his best friend, as he knew that once the truth came to light, Iron Man would seek retribution against the former Winter Soldier for his deeds.

The time for redemption, or damnation, would come later. For now, all that remained was vengeance, a fire that burned through everything in its path, consuming the last vestiges of humanity within Zemo.

***

Zemo stood there in the cold, sterile room, pretending to be Theo Broussard, a respected psychologist. The mask of calm and neutrality concealed a whirlwind of emotions. Opposite him, seated in a chair locked by complex devices, was James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Encased in a reinforced glass chamber, his metal arm was held in a vice with a constant current running through it to neutralize his superhuman strength. Every detail of the scene reminded Helmut of the invisible chains that had always bound the man he loved.

He forced himself to remain impassive, but pain and guilt filled every fiber of his being. He had spent so many years imagining this moment, seeing this face, these eyes in which he had once found a semblance of peace despite all the suffering James had endured. And now, seeing him this way, imprisoned because of him, sparked a deep self-loathing within Helmut.

As the minutes ticked slowly by, James finally looked up at him. He seemed to observe him with particular attention, as if trying to pierce through the veil of the false identity.

Bucky furrowed his brow slightly, his face marked by exhaustion and trauma, but also by sudden curiosity.

"Have we met before?" he asked in a gravelly voice, breaking the silence.

Helmut felt his heart tighten in his chest. This question, these words, were like a knife to the heart. Part of him wanted to scream "yes," to throw himself at James’s feet, beg for his forgiveness, reveal everything. But he was no longer that man. He had a role to play, a plan to execute. So, he swallowed his pain, forced a neutral smile, and shook his head slowly.

"No, I don’t think so," he replied, his voice controlled despite the storm inside.

James continued to scrutinize him, but the silence fell between them once more. Zemo knew he had to move forward, continue playing his role. He took a deep breath and began to ask questions, seemingly casually, attacking the most painful topics, those that HYDRA had hammered into James’s mind like nails into a piece of wood. He mentioned the horrors of World War II, the missions under HYDRA, the memories he knew were open wounds in the Soldier’s soul.

But James refused to answer, clenching his jaw, struggling against the past that was being forced upon him once again.

Helmut felt his phone vibrate discreetly in his pocket. He glanced quickly at the message. It was the signal. The plan was about to unfold. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine. Everything he had planned for months, everything that had brought him here, was about to come to fruition in the next few minutes.

Suddenly, the room's lights went out abruptly, plunging the room into a red glow, an alarming emergency lighting. Tension rose instantly. Helmut turned to James, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.

"Tell me about the mission on December 16, 1991," he asked, fully aware of what it would trigger.

But the former Winter Soldier still refused to answer, his face closing off into an expression of pure stubbornness. Helmut realized the moment had come. He slowly took out the red book, the one he had retrieved from Karpov. As soon as James saw the book, his muscles tensed, and a shadow of fear crossed his eyes.

Helmut closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for what he was about to do. He knew he was crossing a line, one that transformed him into what he had vowed to destroy.

" I'm sorry, James... " he murmured, his voice full of sorrow. It was the last time he would allow him to see the man he once was, before donning the mask of the executioner for good.

Then, he began to recite the trigger words, those that had once been burned into the Soldier’s mind. Each word fell like a whip, marking the man in front of him irreversibly. James almost screamed in pain, struggling against the glass with his metal fist with all his might, fighting against the inevitable, but the words continued to flow from Zemo’s mouth, relentless, inescapable.

As the sequence progressed, Helmut could almost feel James’s humanity fading away, replaced by the weapon that HYDRA had crafted.

When the final word was spoken, and James responded in Russian that he was ready to comply, Zemo felt a wave of disgust wash over him. He had succeeded. He had broken the man he loved once more.

He had accomplished his dreadful mission.

But at what cost..?