Zemo sat at the small desk he had been given, since he would spend the rest of his life here. He had read about the events going on in his home city. He quite missed home ever since SHIELD came in looking for him and, of course, they had found him. Zemo was a man who was fiercely loyal to his people and he would never have run away just because SHIELD agents were on his tail. He didn't fight; in truth, he sat in his castle, seven years ago, and drank a few glasses of his favorite wine. It was expensive and he knew he may never taste the warm, smooth 1862 red wine; it had been aged to perfection and to find a bottle would be near impossible, considering that it was from 1862. The Zemos, though, had always been avid collectors of many types of alcohol, especially fine wine. In the days prior, Heinrich had prepared so they couldn't take anything from his people. He had his faithful butler, Sebastian, sign a legal document to have the castle protected from SHIELD staging. Sebastian's family, in his absence, would be the caretakers.
Heinrich reminisced, as he thought about, none other than, Steve Rogers. This time of day was particularly boring because he was considered to be at a high risk of being attacked by the other supervillains. That should have been a red flag for SHIELD to realize his true nature and relationship. They knew... everyone here knew because HYDRA Officers always made it clear what Heinrich was truly guilty of. The SHIELD guards refused to believe it. No way this man, the one who wore a suit of purple, gold, and snow leopard fur... no way he was in love with the still missing Captain America, but it was true. The reason this man whose face was sealed behind his mask could never have hatred or contempt for Steve Rogers. No matter how much pain, how much turmoil he faced everyday with... all the intravenous nutrient injections, the weekly blood tests to check his diet and nutrient levels, even being stuck in prison. He should hate the American soldier for this but he couldn't. Something in his heart, his mind, his soul would not allow him. He couldn't hate Steve Rogers. It physically hurt him to think of the blond, blue eyed man in any bad way. He didn't understand why; Steve Rogers had died in 1945... it was 70 years ago... why did it haunt him so much? Why did it hurt?
The Baron put his head on the desk, as the reminiscing wave of pain washed over him. Even more over, the Baron thought of the smiles directed his way, the kind words. Everything that Steve sacrificed for him... the words he said pounded in his head.
It will be alright.
It will be okay.
Heinrich, don't worry... I won't let the Nazis find out.
I will keep your secret safe.
I won't let them kill you.
You're safe with me.
They won't hurt you.
You are safe.
Trust me.
"I did trust jou..." He said softly, his tone almost a whine, "But here I sit... vithout jou. Und zhis is vhen I need jou most." A few tears rolled down his cheeks. "The journal... jou took it vith jou... I can't find it and zhey can't find you. I vish jou vere here, Steve..." He could picture his former handler, even now. Clear as day. Not even time could stain the memories of the American soldier, but he had never said anything. He had plenty of chances to admit his profound feelings. The desires he had wrote about in that black leather journal. No one really would be able to understand how he felt for Rogers. The blond man was the immaculate pinnacle of masculinity. The Baron had often fantasized, prison left a lot of time for that and he had been a man of the written word before that of what their future could be. Together. On the same side. Steven Rogers was a strong man and the Baron knew that Steve was one of the most qualified men to sit beside him, to lead his people. A perfect pair, the two would usher in an era of peace. First in Germany, and then throughout the world. Not by force, but rather by leadership.
