The cockpit of the Quinjet felt smaller than usual, the air thick with tension as Bucky leaned against the wall, his simmering gaze fixed on the horizon. The sun dipped low, casting sharp shadows across the interior. It should have been peaceful, but nothing about their lives had been peaceful in months.

"We need to find Zemo," Steve said, his tone resolute.

"Zemo." Bucky scoffed, the name bitter on his tongue. "We've been trying to find him for months. No leads. No sightings. The guy's a ghost."

"He's our best bet," Steve pressed.

Bucky clenched his jaw, his metal fingers flexing at his side. "I know. But none of this makes sense, Steve. Zemo. Jaige. Lorea. They're all connected, but how? And why?"

"Which is why we have to find him," Steve said, his voice softening. "He's the only lead we've got."

The Quinjet rattled as turbulence hit, jostling them in their seats. Natasha, seated in the pilot's chair, adjusted the controls with practiced ease. She glanced over her shoulder, her sharp eyes scanning Bucky and Steve.

"We're running out of time," she said. "We've covered half the globe looking for Zemo, and it's getting harder to stay ahead of T'Challa. We need a breakthrough."

Steve ran a hand over his face, exhaustion etched into every line. He didn't say it aloud, but they all felt the weight of their failure. Every day that passed without finding Jaige was a day closer to losing her for good.

"I don't like this either, but we need help," Steve said, turning to Bucky.

Bucky stiffened, already guessing where this was going.

How can I assist you, Cap?

"Call Tony," Steve said.

Calling Tony Stark

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "You've got to be kidding me. From your own line? Heard of a burner, old man?"

Steve ignored the dig as the call screen ringing rattled the quiet cockpit.

When Tony's voice answered, it was clipped, defensive. "You've got nerve, Rogers."

"Tony, we need your help," Steve said without preamble. "T'Challa is tracking us, and we're running out of leads. Especially if we're going to find Jennifer alive."

The last word threatened to unleash the fury of the Winter Soldier, as his enraged metal fist hit the Quinjet. There was a pause, the silence crackling with tension.

"Cap, I—you know I can't," Tony said finally, his voice heavy. "He's a criminal. My hands are tied. And—I'm not sure I should untie them."

"You don't mean that," Steve said, disbelief and frustration in his voice.

"Goodbye, Cap," Tony said before the line went dead.

Steve stared at the disconnected screen, the weight of Tony's refusal settling over him like a stone.

_________________________

As much as he feigned enjoyment or ambivalence, he hated being rude to the old timer—but he had no choice. Tony Stark stood in the ruins of Camp Lehigh, the place where Steve Rogers had once trained to become Captain America. He'd been following Zemo's trail for weeks, tracking whispers and half-truths, under the nose of the CIA, to this remote location.

The base was as desolate as it was eerie, the remnants of Hydra's influence lingering like a ghostly echo. He hadn't told anyone where he was going—not Rhodey, not Pepper. This was his mission, and he didn't need anyone else getting caught up in it.

He scanned the area with a modified version of his HUD, searching for signs of life. His heart was pounding, a mix of anticipation and dread.

"Come on, Zemo," he muttered. "Where are you?"

The sound of a gun cocking made him freeze.

"You've come a long way, Mr. Stark," Zemo's voice drawled from behind him.

Tony turned slowly, his hands raised, his suit only partially activated. Zemo stood a few feet away, a gun trained on him, his expression calm but deadly.

"You're a hard man to find," Tony said, his voice carefully even.

"And you're a predictable one," Zemo replied.

____________________________

Back on the Quinjet, Natasha had been listening to the entire exchange. Steve and Bucky had been too focused on Tony's rejection to notice the subtle clues in his tone, but Natasha had.

"He's lying," she said suddenly, swiveling in her chair to face the others.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Tony. He's not just refusing to help us. He's hiding something."

Bucky frowned. "You think he knows where Zemo is?"

Natasha nodded. "Or he's already found him."

"Where?" Steve asked, his voice urgent.

Natasha's fingers flew over the controls, pulling up a map of the eastern seaboard. She zoomed in on a familiar location, her expression grim.

"Camp Lehigh," she said.

"Lehigh?" Steve's brow furrowed.

"Think about it," Natasha said. "Hydra was embedded in S.H.I.E.L.D. Zemo's a strategist. If he wanted to pick up old Hydra secrets, that's where he'd go. And Tony? He's arrogant, but he's not stupid. He'd think the same thing."

Steve nodded, already strapping himself in. "Then that's where we're going."

"I'm sorry I didn't think of it first," Natasha murmured under her breath.

____________________________

When they arrived, the scene was chaos.

The Quinjet hovered silently above the base, its cloaking engaged. Below, Tony was kneeling in the dirt, Zemo's gun pressed against his forehead.

Steve's stomach twisted at the sight. "We need to move now," he said.

"Hang on," Natasha said, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the scene. "T'Challa's here too."

Bucky leaned over her shoulder, spotting the Black Panther's jet parked in the shadows. "Of course he is," he muttered.

"Then we need to move fast," Steve said.

The Quinjet landed a safe distance away, and the trio moved out, their movements swift and silent. As they approached, Zemo's voice carried on the wind.

"Move an inch and she's dead. You consider yourself a hero, Mr. Stark," Zemo was saying. "But even heroes have limits. Sacrifices must be made."

"You mean like the blood on your hands?" Tony shot back, his voice sharp despite the fear in his eyes.

Before Zemo could respond, a vibranium shield flew through the air, knocking the gun from his hand.

Zemo barely had time to react before Steve tackled him to the ground.

The fight was quick but brutal, with Bucky and Natasha stepping in to subdue Zemo. By the time T'Challa arrived, Zemo was already restrained, his hands bound behind his back.

"You were wrong," Natasha said to T'Challa, her voice calm but firm. "Zemo's the one responsible for your father's death. Not Bucky."

T'Challa's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to Zemo. "Is this true?"

Zemo smirked but said nothing.

Tony, still on the ground, let out a heavy sigh. "It's true," he said. "I've been tracking him for months. He confessed."

T'Challa's fists clenched, but he forced himself to stand down. "Then he will face justice. My justice."

Steve stepped forward, his expression grim. "We'll face him together. But first, we need answers."

As the tension settled, the group turned their focus to Zemo, the man who had haunted them all for far too long.