In Another Life | Sergeant James 'Bucky' Barnes / The Winter Soldier + Ikaris

Chapter 8

Dark vehicles drove past the guarded building, uniformed men armed as newspaper stands advertised the front page print of 'War Rages in Europe, LONDON BURNING'. In a dimly lit room, a heavy metal door with a small, slit window for a pair of eyes was held open, Zola entering slowly, dishevelled and stripped of his suit except for the shirt and pants. Zola stared into the space before he realised he was being handed his glasses by the officer behind him and took them.

He put the pair of spectacles on as the man left, pulling the door firmly shut behind him, fixing the ear pieces as he stared at the faucet on one wall that had let a drop of water fall. He turned to walk some of the length of the room, considering the long window connecting to a darkened place of observation and then slowing to a stop at the sight of the long stretcher-like table. His eyes lowered, and he caught sight of a few drops of blood on the concrete floor.

He leaned in, morbidly curious and fearful, only to jerk upright and turn around at the noise of the door being opened again, the officer opening the door for Colonel Phillips to enter carrying a tray with a piece of paper hanging from one hand underneath. The door was shut behind.

"Sit down," Colonel Phillips commanded placing the tray on the surface of the desk that Zola had rounded in distraction. On the tray was a plate holding a piece of steak, a couple of boiled potatoes, and three pieces of broccoli, a knife and fork, salt and pepper shakers, and glass of milk alongside.

He slipped the piece of paper into his other hand as Zola sat across from him.

"What is this?" Zola asked.

"Steak." Phillips answered.

"What is in it?" Zola continued softly.

Phillips gazed at him. "Cow," he answered as he lowered himself down onto the opposite chair. "Doctor, do you realise how difficult it is to get a hold of a prime cut like that out here?" He huffed a mocking smile.

"Hm, I don't eat meat," Zola responded, leaning back in pretended ease. The sole light in the room was placed in the ceiling above him and shone down.

"Why not?" Colonel Phillips questioned with a frown.

"It disagrees with me," Zola defended tersely.

"How about cyanide? Does that give you the rumbly tummy too?" Phillips drawled. Zola smirked without amusement.

"Every HYDRA agent that we've tried to take alive has crunched a little pill before we can stop him. But not you," Phillips explained while pulling the tray towards himself and lifting the knife and fork to take in hand. He cut off a strip of the steak, to Zola's twisting of his lips. "So, here is my brilliant theory." he shifted the position of the glass to the further corner and ate the piece of meat. "You want to live."

"You're trying to intimidate me, Colonel." Zola said whilst he smiled slightly.

"I bought you dinner." Phillips jeered seriously. After a second, he slid the paper around his meal to lie in front of the other.

Zola's eyes widened and he leaned over the page, hand keeping it in place. "'Given the valuable information he has provided, and in exchange for his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzerland.'" He read slowly.

"I sent that message to Washington this morning." Phillips explained as he added more spice to the meat. "Of course it was encoded." He cut a bit of potato as his tongue moved to clean his teeth. "You guys haven't broken those codes, have you? That would be awkward." He leisurely implied.