The Long Journey Home

4: We might never 'get over', only 'get through'

[ Chapter notes: TFATWS episode 1x03 ]

Zemo watches the movement of Sharon's people through the crack in the door. It's time, soon, for them to depart to chase that lead Sharon has. One of her people passes by carrying something. He tips his door open, following silently as they move to the room where the fragment from his past is sleeping. So many years removed, but there is still a responsibility there.

He scowls, realizing Sharon's associate has already paused and moved on, their hands now empty. It's only him standing in the hallway battling Before – being pulled towards it, too. He cracks the door open to look in. For a moment he sees the residence in Novi Grad –

He's returned to the house after a long day but rather than checking in on a sleeping Carl and heading to bed he finds his son's bed empty. The adjoining door is ajar, so he knows where to find his little boy. Sprawled out next to his nanny, of course taking up more than his fair share of the bed. For now it's allowed. For now.

He must make a noise as he shakes himself free of the memory, or maybe it's the light streaming into the room from the hallway. Either way, he's been caught checking in on her. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What. Early?"

"It's early, yes." He chuckles gently, another memory fighting for recognition. A weekend beach trip as a treat to dote on his wife, letting their young nanny chase after their son in the waves. A quiet conversation carried on with his wife as they steered said exhausted young nanny home, his son asleep in his arms - walking the distance between train station and the residence upon their return from the getaway. "Go back to sleep."

He starts to pull the door shut, but his gaze snags on the bundle resting against the wall just inside the door. Her bag – a bag he'd know anywhere – sits there by his feet. He hadn't looked twice at what Sharon's associate was holding. And now – now he doesn't know what to think.

What is the angle being played?

He pulls the door shut with a – click – and turns to find James standing there. Spying. Glaring. He straightens, sliding a contented mask in place as he lifts his eyebrows at James, "What."

James narrows his eyes in return, darting his focus to the door and back again, "Nothing."

"Exactly. Let us go."

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