You weren’t supposed to be here.
That was the first thought you had when Bucky asked you to meet him, his voice gruff, quiet, and carrying that weight you knew too well.
“Zemo’s in a German prison,” he said, and the way his eyes lingered on you told you everything. This wasn’t a request. It was a warning.
You raised a brow. “And you think I’m going to help?”
“You’re the only one who can,” Bucky muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Just… hear me out. If he’s going to get out, someone has to set the alarms, fight the guards. Someone who doesn’t officially exist.”
That was the thing about you. You’d spent years being the one behind the curtain, the hidden safeguard, the weapon no one praised because you weren’t flashy enough. Ice powers, a little telepathy you kept under wraps, and a knack for surviving. That was you.
You stared at him for a long moment, then crossed your arms. “I’m not promising anything.”
Bucky’s lips quirked like he expected that. “Didn’t ask you to.”
Hours later, the alarms blared in the prison. You moved through the chaos like it was second nature, frost biting the air around your hands as guards slipped, weapons freezing mid-trigger. When Zemo finally emerged, calm as ever, eyes scanning the scene — his gaze landed on you.
For a second, you thought he’d smirk. Instead, he simply tilted his head, as if cataloging you.
You broke another guard’s baton with a sharp flick of ice. “Move. I’m not babysitting.”
Zemo walked past, hands slipping into his coat pockets. “Ah. So you’re the infamous contingency.”
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
But when his eyes lingered on you a beat too long, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d look.
You didn’t know why you followed. You didn’t even promise you would. Yet here you were — shadowing Zemo down sterile prison corridors as the alarms wailed, your breath fogging in the chilled air you bent around you.
He moved like the chaos was nothing more than an opera, one he’d orchestrated himself. Calm, deliberate, unshaken. And maybe that irritated you more than it should have.
“Left,” you snapped, freezing a guard’s weapon mid-draw. Zemo obeyed without hesitation.
When the two of you finally regrouped outside, Bucky and unexpected Sam was waiting, eyes darting from Zemo to you.
“What the hell bucky?” Sam yelled.
“You came,” Bucky muttered.
You shrugged, brushing frost from your hands. “Don’t make it a habit.”
Zemo’s gaze lingered on you again, unreadable. “Ah. The mysterious friend. I should’ve known.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Don’t start”.
You hated Madripoor the moment you stepped off the plane. Too loud, too hot, too dangerous — all things you avoided. But here you were, walking beside Bucky and Sam while Zemo adjusted his coat like he belonged here.
At the bar, you pressed your back to the wall, scanning exits. Zemo leaned close, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.
“You carry yourself like someone used to being invisible.”
You met his eyes, unflinching. “And you talk too much.”
He chuckled, low and smooth. “Perhaps.”
But when you felt the brush of his gaze as you moved, you realized he wasn’t wrong. You wanted to be invisible. To him, though? You weren’t.