Chapter 2
Bucky didn’t tell Steve.
He should have, he knows that, but saying it out loud wasn’t something he could face.
How would he explain it, anyway? Especially to Steve who guarded his own soulmark with such ferocity? The thing itself was massive, wrapping around his entire right thigh, spelling out ‘Please help me, Jane hasn’t slept in 36 hours and I need someone to just throw her over their shoulders to get her out of the lab, and you look like a man with just the shoulder to hip ratio to help’ in the messiest chicken scratch Bucky’d ever seen.
So how was he supposed to tell Steve? ‘Oh, by the way, I met my soulmate. I was so surprised that the beautiful dame across the bar spoke the words on my back that I froze like an idiot and let her get away without saying a damn thing?’
It was insane. Unheard of.
He had chased after her, of course. Taken a right out of the bar and run down the street like he’d never run after anything, desperately hoping to find her, but she was no where to be found. He’d doubled back to run the other way even though there was nothing that direction but abandoned shops and dangerous back alleys. The thought of his soulmate walking alone down one of the latter had him frantically searching for almost an hour.
He still didn’t find so much as a single strand of her golden brown hair.
After his second pass back by the bar, he ran into the Commandos drunkenly piling out the front door. Steve was half-carrying, half-pulling Dernier out the door when he spotted Bucky.
“There you are, Jesus, gimme a hand, would ya?” he huffed.
Bucky gave the painfully empty street one last glance before ambling up to get a handful of unruly Frenchman.
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The next day at breakfast, after a night of trying to recall any hint of black on the little skin his soulmate had exposed, of maddening thoughts of the possibility that he was destined to have a one way bond, of hoping that his writing was somewhere on her body so that they were guaranteed to meet again, Steve innocently asked “So what’d you do to make that girl run outta there so fast last night?”
Gabe butted in as he grabbed some more coffee across the table, which was just as well because Bucky felt like all the air had leached out of his lungs. “Eh, can’t blame our Sergeant’s charms this time, Cap. She was heading out before he ever got over there. Said she had to meet a friend or something.”
Dum Dum blearily clomped into the room, muttering about how bright the lights were in the base and running into a table he had missed since his hands were shielding his bloodshot eyes.
No one noticed Bucky slipping out in the ensuing laughter, his breakfast left untouched.
It was only a few days after that they took the mission in the Alps.
As Bucky fell through the frigid air to his certain death, he only thought one thing.
‘Guess I won’t see her again after all.’
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They’d tried to take the words.
He couldn’t remember if it was the Germans or the Russians, only remembered broken conversations about which chemicals would be best to burn the marks out of his skin.
None of them worked.
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It was the only thing he lied about to his handlers.
He didn’t scrutinize the impulse. He never looked at anything too closely.
When they asked if anyone had said “Oh my, you are as quick as you’re attractive. So sorry, must be going…” to him, he always said no.
Even though he knew he’d heard those words before. He didn’t know when or why, but he just knew that he had heard them.
He also knew that he had to lie.
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After the Triskellion and the hellicariers and ‘You know me’ and museums and months of memories slowly, excruciatingly slotting into place, he still lied.
He had let Steve and Sam catch up to him eventually, once he had regained enough of himself to know that there was no James Buchanan Barnes without Steven Grant Rogers. His recovery had been as much his as it had been Steve’s, to be honest. Steve had been awake for two years, but he may as well have still been under the ice for all that he had experienced the world.
So he and Steve learned, adapted together. They reminisced, obviously, because there were holes in James’ memory that needed filling, but they spent just as much time going to the VA together or exploring Whole Foods and conning Sam into cooking.
And sometimes Steve asked him about his time as the Winter Soldier.
He understood why.
From Steve’s perspective, they had spent their whole lives at each other’s side with the only exception being the two years Steve spent working through some major trauma. James appreciated that Steve was trying to come to terms with the idea that his friend had around 70 years of life lived without him. Even if it hadn’t been much of a life at all.
When Steve haltingly asked, clearly terrified of the possible answers, if he had met his soulmate, he did what he had been doing for decades.
He said no.
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James looked for her.
He wasn’t expecting much. Most days he continually reminded himself that even if he did locate her, the most likely outcome was him standing over her grave.
Still, he had to know. At the very least, he had to know her name. There wasn’t much to go on: British, early to mid twenties in 1943, in London on August 13th of 1943, and countless rough sketches drawn by his frustrated hands from his own hard won memories.
Even with his considerable skills and help from Stark’s accommodating and discreet AI, he was failing.
When his soulmate finally did turn up, it was only on a tape that showed her disappearing into thin air again.
Only this time he knew her name.
It made it worse.
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The second time he saw his soulmate face to face was in an explosion of light.
Tony and Thor had said that would happen, that the Time Gem was powerful, but it didn’t stop his heart from nearly flat lining as her silhouette broke through the violent display.
The show ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Director Coulson and Dr. Jemma Simmons blinking furiously in its wake.
James stepped forward out of the battle formation that Safety Sally Bruce had suggested on the off chance that an unfriendly emerged from the portal instead of their comrades. He didn’t know what he meant to do exactly, but the sight of his soulmate standing there looking precisely as he remembered her, from the unkempt hair to the same dress she had been wearing that night stopped him short.
She had only just met him while he had been waiting 70 years to find her again. He didn’t notice Natalia signaling to the others huddled in the hall that it was safe to enter. The pretty hacker with superpowers knocking him off-balance as she hurried brought him back to the moment.
Skye fiercely embracing the Director and Jemma was a welcomed sight to the Winter Soldier. It was additional proof that this new SHIELD was made up of good people, a heartening notion given that this was where Jemma called home.
Of course, hearing Skye mention that his soulmate had jumped out of a plane at cruising altitude had him choking on his own spit and re-examining the agency.
He’d have to get that full story at a later date.
He kept his eyes glued on Jemma as Skye filled her in on the last few hours. James wanted to correct the agent’s assessment of his silence as ‘crazy assassin time’ but was yet again shoved aside by someone pushing passed him.
Ready to put the aforementioned crazy assassin skills to use if it meant getting to finally speak to Jemma, he was relieved when Thor and Steve announced that everyone should turn in. He watched her take a step back from the group and head over to her lab space. Stepping back to let the others leave, he watched Jemma tip her head back and take a deep breath.
He purposefully made noise as he walked towards her, figuring that the last thing she needed was to be startled. She turned at the drag of his shoe against the floor.
James was unsure what made her flush and avert her eyes, but he found her blush so alluring.
He would always prefer to see her eyes, though.
Lifting her head up, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Been looking for you a long time, doll.”
It was the first time he’d been honest about his soulmate.
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Jemma’s brain shorted out.
Fitz would never believe her, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t have two thoughts to rub together.
Because Bucky Barnes, famed war hero and recently discovered, longest serving prisoner of war, just spoke the words emblazoned on her chest.
While she felt like her mind was melting, his grin had grown to dangerously enticing heights and his hand had moved from under her chin to cradle the back of her head.
Looking up at him, she whispered “But that was so long ago. I mean, it was only an hour ago for me that I spoke to you, but for you, it’s been…”
Her sentence trailed off as she paled.
“70 years,” he finished softly.
“70 years,” she repeated just as quietly. Jemma thought she could see the weight of each year etched into the fine lines of his face, but knew that was impossible. Even with the hell he’d been through, he physically only looked a few years older than when she’d last seen him.
An hour ago.
Her arms encircled him of their own volition, one at his neck and the other at his back, dragging him into an awkward crouch above her. She stood from her seat to relieve him of the uncomfortable posture, but instead of straightening, he simply pulled her into the curl of his body, arms clutching at each other.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke the words into his neck.
He hugged her impossibly tighter.
“Nothing you could have done differently, sweetheart. We’ve had these words on us our whole lives. It was always going to happen like this, Jemma.”
She knew that intellectually, but it still seemed as though fate had been incredibly cruel to him. A part of Jemma thought she could make up for that, but the rational side of her tried its best to quench the instinct. She’d only just met the man, after all, but she felt as though she’d always known the warmth he emanated.
Those were thoughts for another day, one where she hadn’t been exhausted by time travel. Breathing in her soulmate’s scent, a sweet sandalwood, was quickly lulling her to sleep. He must have sensed her drowsiness because he pulled away enough to shift her to his side, but still in his arms, and led her out of the lab.
She leaned her head against his shoulder as they meandered down the hallways towards the residential wing of the Playground. “I like the way you say my name,” she told him.
“Yeah?” she felt him press his lips to the top of her head, “It’s a beautiful name, Jemma.”
She furrowed her brows as she turned them in the direction of her quarters. “It occurs to me that we haven’t been properly introduced, and so I don’t know exactly what to call you. How rude of me.”
She stopped them in front of her door and twirled to catch a glimpse of his face. The corner of his full mouth was quirked up, his eyes crinkled at the corners like he was seconds from a laugh.
“I think we can cut ourselves some slack, don’t you? Kinda a big day and all,” he shrugged one shoulder up to his ear in the most obnoxious bashful routine she’d ever witnessed.
She loved it.
Biting her lip didn’t stop the smile from blooming. She felt that blasted blush spreading once again, but steadfastly ignored it. “Well then? What shall I call you? Bucky?” The nickname felt clunky on her tongue.
His eyes hadn’t left the spot on her lips she had been biting. “If you want,” he hesitated a second, “But Steve’s really the only one who does. He’s always called me that so that’s no skin off my back. Everyone else, though, they call me James.”
Jemma brought up a hand to cover his cheek, stubble tickling her palm. “James.”
She didn’t think he was aware that his face was moving towards her. That didn’t stop her from bringing their lips together.
James closed his eyes and smiled.
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Coulson awoke to a heavy pounding on his door. A glance at his clock told him that he’d be shooting whoever had woken him.
Upon finding that it was Captain Rogers trying to break down his door at 4:45 in the morning, he reconsidered murder and decided to shoot only to wound.
“Can I help you, Captain?”
The Captain was only wearing flannel pajama pants, but was sweating profusely. Coulson fought the urge to offer him a towel.
“It’s Bucky, I can’t find him anywhere!”
Perhaps if he had had more than three hours of sleep, a missing assassin would alarm Coulson more. As it stood, he was discovering that a lifetime of hero worship only extended so much immunity in the face of sleep depravation.
“I see,” Coulson took a fortifying breath and asked “Where did you last see him?” as if a grown man was just a set of misplaced keys.
Steve ran a hand through his hair and began pacing in the small space in front of Coulson’s bedroom door.
“In the lab with everyone else!” his voice raised in pitch as he got more worked up, “I woke up and realized he wasn’t in the bunk above me which is strange because it is the only empty bed in the base. So I went looking for him thinking maybe he was patrolling because sometimes he does that in new places, but I’ve run through the whole Playground twice and haven’t found him!”
Coulson thought it was absurd to worry about a 90 year old lethal operative within a secure and uncompromised base, but he wasn’t about to tell that to Captain America.
“I’d suggest checking the surveillance feeds. They’d tell you where Sergeant Barnes is hiding,” Coulson smiled and waited for the Captain to be on his merry way. He did not expect the Captain to grab him and drag him to the computers in charge of security.
If Coulson was going to be manhandled into the search party, the least the Captain could do would be to get him some coffee.
Getting the feed from earlier that night took no time at all. They watched the Sergeant stay behind as the assorted SHIELD personnel and Avengers filed out of the lab, watched him approach Jemma and then listened to him speak with her. The words he spoke just so happened to be the ones on Jemma’s soulmark.
Had Coulson had any coffee to choke on, he would have.
Captain Rogers apparently did not appreciate the enormity of what they had just watched because he grabbed the touch pad and fast-forwarded the video until they saw the two passionately embrace in front of Jemma’s door and then disappear behind it.
Coulson did not need to know this much about his team. He did not want to know this much about his team.
He had decided to just force the memory from his brain and head back to sleep when the earnest face of the Captain blocked his exit.
“I’m sorry, Director. Bucky used to be a flirt and all, but I can’t believe he thought this was a good time for that bit of him to be resurfacing,” the Captain began moving to the door, “I’ll make sure this gets handled. Dr. Simmons has had enough to deal with today without this. I don’t know what Buck was thinking…”
Coulson, who prided himself on being unflappable, felt his eyes go wide as understanding dawned.
“Captain! I wouldn’t intervene,” but the Man with a Plan was already halfway down the hall, sprinting away. “Wait, you’ve got the wrong idea!”
Coulson couldn’t have hoped to catch the original super soldier on a full nights sleep and with a fully balanced breakfast in him, so it was to be expected that he lost sight of the Captain quickly.
By the time Coulson made it to Jemma’s room, Captain Rogers had already commenced his second door assault of the morning.
Coulson slumped against the wall in defeat.
Still, he gave the situation one more chance to be redeemed. “Captain, stop banging on the doors. What Sergeant Barnes said to Agent Simmons on the video feed? That’s her soulmark.”
The arm that he had been using to brace himself against against the wall slipped, and he fell face first into the door at Coulson’s proclamation.
Coulson looked heavenward, wondering if perhaps Heimdall was watching and willing to put him out of his misery.
“Hish shoulmate?” the Captain lisped. A quick glance showed the Captain had given himself a bloody nose.
The door was violently wrenched open behind them to reveal the diminutive and seemingly pantsless biochemist in question. “What the bloody hell is this racket?!”
“Doctor Shimmons,” Captain Rogers stammered from behind his hands, blood mixing with sweat and running down his neck in tiny rivulets.
Coulson took pity on the man. “Agent Simmons, the Captain and I were just leaving. He was operating under a misunderstanding. Get some sleep,” he grabbed the Captain by the elbow and moved him away from his scientist. “Please apologize to Sergeant Barnes for the disturbance. And congratulations to you both.”
Jemma’s hands dropped to the hem of what was most assuredly the Sergeant’s shirt and blushed bright red.
Coulson smiled and continued to haul a National Icon behind him.
If he used the ICER on the Captain, he could probably get in another couple hours of sleep.