The Hurt And The Healing: Bucky X OC

Chapter Thirty One: Damn Iankees

When Mara came downstairs to breakfast, Zemo was already sitting at the head of the dining room table wearing a silk bathrobe, sipping a tiny cup of coffee, and reading a newspaper. Mara sat close to the door, and before she could fully scoot her chair in, Oeznik was by her side.

"Would you care for some coffee?" he asked, leaning down and almost giving her a heart attack. The man moved so lightly not even the ancient floorboards creaked under him.

"Yes please," Mara answered, rubbing her face. "As strong as you can possibly make it."

The old man nodded and exited, leaving Mara alone with the strange little man at the other end of the room.

"Did you not get much sleep last night, Dr. Anderson?" Zemo asked, folding his newspaper and looking at her with those beady eyes.

"Jet lag," Mara lied. "And your mattresses have no lumbar support."

"I suppose you Americans are not accustomed to goose feather beds," he mused. "Or breakfasts that are not composed of sugary cereal. Shall I send Oeznik to the market to get you some Frosted Flakes?" he asked condescendingly. Mara smiled back, her cheeks stretching strangely.

"Your hospitality astounds me," she replied sweetly. Oeznik returned with a large tea cup filled with coffee, which Mara accepted gratefully. She sipped it and smiled. At least caffeine worked no matter what country you were in.

The table was laden with a variety of cold meats, cheeses, loaves of bread, and fruit preserves. Mara watched and waited until Zemo made the first move, serving himself without assistance from Oeznik. Mara did the same, being careful to not take too much. Zemo seemed to be the sort of European with many negative views of Americans, and Mara's pride would not allow her to give him the satisfaction of seeing his prejudices confirmed.

Nonna came in next, followed by Sam. The three of them exchanged hollow pleasantries, but Bucky's absence was growing conspicuous, and Mara couldn't help but worry about him. Last night he had been in worse shape than she had ever seen him. Even when he told her about the Winter Soldier the night of the Flag Smashers attack he hadn't seemed so... so fragile. When she looked into his eyes there wasn't a soldier looking back at her. There was a prisoner, trapped in a cell with no bars and no locks.

Mara remembered the scars on his wrists. She had seen them enough times in the ER to know exactly what they were. He had been in so much pain last night. Could he have-

Just as Mara was about to make an excuse to go upstairs and check on him, Bucky entered the room. He sat on the other side of the table, away from Mara, not speaking a word as he piled his plate high with food and ate it without tasting a single bite. Sam and Nonna both shot Mara worried looks, but she forced any emotion from her face and fixed her eyes on her breakfast. Bucky hadn't told her about his night terrors, she could only assume that he didn't want to tell the others either.

"It is fortuitous that we came here this week," Zemo said, shattering the silence. The others looked at him, and once he was sure that he had their full attention he continued. "Does anyone know what Latveria's number one export is?"

No one answered.

"Of course not," Zemo sighed, as if he had to do all the work. "Weapons. Latveria's number one export is military grade weaponry that rivals HammerTech every day, and even Stark Technology occasionally." He sipped his coffee, waiting for his audience to react. When they didn't he frowned but continued. "Latveria sells to the highest bidder, which means that their primary customers are of the extra-legal nature."

"Criminals," Sam clarified.

"I have bought from them on multiple occasions," Zemo replied with a shrug.