My Name Is Bucky [FemBucky&Sam]

Symbols & Icons

The last twenty minutes of the plane journey – to Bucky – is thankfully (mostly) peace and quiet. But before that, they’re discussing their destination a little.

Zemo had watched, from the corners of his vision, at how fiercely she clutched her little book of lists and he did, for a moment anyway, feel a little guilty for that small part of her who is still “just Jane.” He hates the Winter Soldier, of course – with a fiery passion that almost rivals his love for his dead family – but he isn’t too far gone by vengeance to understand that that part of her is a victim, that in fact, she is the only supersoldier who never got to choose to be a supersoldier, that it was something that was forced upon her.

(Still... that will not stop him from seeing just how much of the Winter Soldier is really left in Jane...)

Zemo sighs, leans back in his seat and takes a gulp of vodka. “You must have really looked up to Steve.” Bucky doesn’t look at him, but her glare on the clouds hardens, and he gives Sam a small nod when he shoots him a warning look first. “However, I realised something when I met him...” He’s speaking to them both, but looking at Sam as he does, and only because Sam is still looking at him. “The danger with people like that... America’s supersoldiers...” He tries to hold onto his bitterness, merely over saying the word. “Is that we all put them on pedestals.”

“Watch yourself, Zemo.” Sam warns him aloud this time.

Zemo holds up his free hand in response, nods with understanding, but carries on, says only what he feels he needs to. “They become symbols. Icons... And then, we all start to forget about their flaws... From there, cities fall, innocent people die... Movements are formed, wars are fought...” He gives a half smile when Bucky finally looks at him – with that prettily psychopathic glare of hers – and asks, “You remember what that was like, don’t you, Jane?”

Bucky simply continues to stare and glare at him. She can feel Sam’s eyes on her, watching her intently. He’s probably waiting for her to snap again, too, she bitterly thinks. Which makes her even more... she wants to think – pissed – but she’s more stung again, than anything else.

At least with Zemo, she doesn’t care about what he thinks and she knows that he’s doing it just to antagonize her. But with Sam, she knows it’s because he doesn’t really trust her. Not fully anyway. She also knows it’s obviously nothing personal on his part, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Zemo continues, “As a young soldier – a young female soldier in a misogynistic era – being sent off to Germany to stop a mad icon... Do we really want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?” He watches her watch him back, but his words have a point, have a direction as he goes on. “That is why we are going to Mandripoor.” He glances to Sam again finally and leans back to take another gulp of the sharp tasting liquid.

Sam puts himself at ease when he realises that Zemo is finally willing to back the hell off from Bucky (for now, he suspects, at least.) He, too, leans back in his seat and takes a dainty sip of his water, then finally asks, “What’s up with Mandripoor?” He arches a brow as he glances between Zemo and Bucky. “You both talk about it like it’s Skull Island, or something.”

Bucky finally loosens her glare as she looks at Sam and replies, “It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago.”

Sam nods as Zemo adds, “It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s. It’s kept to its lawless ways since then, however.” He shoots Sam a pointed look and says, “And obviously, we cannot just walk in as ourselves.” He wants to word it differently, but he knows he shouldn’t anger Jane any more (for the moment) if he wants his plan to work.

“Jane –“

Bucky knows what’s coming, knows what she’s probably going to have to do, and honestly, it terrifies her.

(What if she can’t come back?)

(What if she kills someone?)

(What if she kills everyone?)

(What if... she kills Sam?)

He can see her jaw clenching and Zemo thinks it’s for different reasons altogether as he says, “You will have to become someone you claim is gone for good.”

[5 Hours Later.]

Sam is terrified, but not for his own life, he’s been through too much shit to care over the extent of basic life preservation. He’s terribly worried over if he will be able to stop Bucky, but that’s not really the biggest issue, and that’s because he meant it when he said he trusts her. He doesn’t expect her to lose her shit – save for anything more than putting smug shit Zemo in his place – he knows she’s come too far for that. He’s more concerned over the fact that that stupid uneasy feeling is back, churning in the pit of his stomach.

He feels like there’s something Bucky isn’t telling him and for some weird reason, he also feels like Zemo already knows what that is.

He doesn’t say anything, though, because in this moment, as they walk through the streets of Mandripoor, he can’t help feeling a little ridiculous.

“Why am I the only one that looks like a damn pimp?”

Bucky smirks a little to herself as she marches to the left of Zemo, Sam to his right – just so they can both keep an eye on him. She’s also glad that people already seem to recognise her, or at least, recognise her by her metal arm (even if it looks very different to her last) when each person who does, makes as much space between them and her as fast as they possibly can.

Zemo wants to scoff as he says, “Of course. Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man is just a pimp.”

Sam glares at him as he’s handed a small photo.

Zemo explains, “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack; a.k.a. Smiling Tiger.”

Sam doesn’t hold on to his own scoff. “Even has a bad nickname.”

OK, “Falcon” – Bucky thinks with another smirk. Though, she has to admit, as her smirk is quickly wiped off, that “Captain America” does sound douchey anyway.

It’s just that Steve was too noble with his title... Maybe that’s why she hadn’t realised. And maybe, because of a certain (actual) “Captain Douchebag.”

Sam huffs, but has to admit, “Hell, he does look like me, though... at least.”

“No matter what happens, we must stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.” Zemo glances mainly to Sam – one, because he knows the man’s good nature will probably get in their way, two, because he doesn’t want to die, and three, because he suspects that Jane will have no problem “fitting in.”