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Chapter Text

When an infant was born they were given a bracelet. On this bracelet was a metal circle which would become engraved with the first words spoken by the soulmate destiny had chosen. Something about this alien metal that no scientist could figure out declared when someone met their soulmate. The closer one got to meeting their soulmate, the lighter the words became until the words would fade away and your partner, your soulmate would have a matching blank bracelet. It was long since theorized, after a few famous examples, that this was fate’s way of declaring a blank slate. Soulmates had the power to make their own choices from then on. Most, the majority, chose to marry and live with their soulmates, but some, especially as the world entered the modern age, found they did not particularly care for their destined mate and chose to find companionship elsewhere. If fate took their words away once the soulmates had met, then who was anyone to say you had to be stuck with them. Even in the poorest of countries, this metal was found, yet no gemologist or scientist could discern exactly what in the substance allowed it to have such predictive factors. Over the years, people accepted that the metal was right and went on with life. Much like the mystery of junk DNA, scientists continued experimenting but even in 2015 the answers were lost.

Like most things, Hollywood romanticized the idea of the metal, which had become known as amoaes for the Latin words of love and metal, and its destined lovers. In the majority of films, through many trials and tribulations, soulmates always found they were meant to be and lived happily ever after.

No one ever talked about the poor unfortunate souls stuck with terrible people for soulmates.

No one spoke about people with awful words stuck on their wrists until the fateful day they would meet their partner.

The proper way to handle the subject was to simply comment with “that’s unfortunate” or “poor dear” and move on to the topic of weather or politics.

Darcy Lewis was one of those “poor dears.”

The words on her wrist were It had to be you.

Growing up, most of the people in her class had the generic Hi, Nice to meet you, or some other generic crap. Others, like Marsha Keenes, had cutesy, romantic words like I’ve been waiting for you forever.

Girls like Marsha liked to flaunt their words around and snuff others. Having words like that made you special. Generic words made you average. Words like Darcy’s?

They proved there was something wrong with you.

Kids didn’t want friends with words “like those.”

If your soulmate found you less than stellar, who was anyone else to love you?

So Darcy learned quickly that the world was a cruel place, and that to survive she had to be tough.

She fought against the harsh words of uneducated children with no manners.

Well look at you, no wonder he’s upset.

I wouldn’t want some slut as my soulmate. No thanks.

You should have tried harder.

What’s wrong with you?

So Darcy adapted and used quick wit and snarky responses to get by. She stood her ground and built up walls, walls that would first be torn down by a nerdy astrophysicist years later.

But even with the armor the young Darcy had to surround herself with, the words still left their mark. So many people commented, and even her parents avoided talking about soulmates, that Darcy had to wonder if maybe something was wrong with her. Classmates, teachers, strangers, even her soulmate found her less than average, so how could she be the one in the right?

When Darcy eventually let Jane in and upgraded from unpaid intern to unpaid best friend, she told Jane about her childhood. Jane had smiled a small, knowing-yet-sad smile that translated her empathy. Growing up with strange figures on her amoaes and an interest in astronomy, Jane had had her fair share of torment as a child.

At least now she had Thor, an Asgardian god.

Who did Darcy have?

“Tony Stark.”

“What?”

“Tony Stark. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist. Iron Man.”

“What about him?”

“He wants us in the tower. He offered to pay for your research. Also, and most importantly, he has offered to pay for all equipment and personnel you require. Meaning Darcy gets to be a paid intern.”

Darcy looked at Jane who was too busy reading some printout from one of her Mickey-Moused machines.

“Jaaaane!” To emphasize her disapproval at being ignored Darcy threw a pencil that whacked the scientist in the head.

“Darcy! Pointy objects should not be used as projectiles!”

“And Darcy should get paid which is why we should say yes.”

“Yes to what?” Jane, at least, put the printout down and turned to focus on Darcy.

“To moving into Avengers Tower and working for Stark.”

“Why would I want to work for someone when now I’m my own boss?”

“Refer to my first point which you ignored that stated he is a playboy, billionaire, philanthropist and has lots of money he is willing to give you.”

“I don’t know, Darcy-“

“He also said something about Thor coming back to stay in the Avengers Tower and allowing you full reign on your research so long as you do it in Avengers Tower and he gets to see your results.”

Jane looked at Darcy for a moment, and then turned around to look back at her machine, “Load everything up.”

Three weeks later found Darcy moving lots of heavy boxes into the elevator at Avengers Tower and having to unload them at the thirty-fifth floor. Jane, of course, was in her lab on their floor circling the room and dictating where each piece of machinery should go. Five that night found an exhausted Darcy moving the last table into place when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the famous Tony Stark.

He took one step out of the elevator to stop dead in his tracks, raise his hand and lower his sun glasses to look around the room. “Why, someone tell me what these monstrosities are doing in my lovely tower?”

Jane’s face contorted in rage and her mouth opened but Darcy beat her with, “I thought it was the Avengers’ Tower, meaning all of the Avengers had a stake?”

“You, Ms. Wrongness, are incorrect because my money paid for everything these energy efficient lights touch and therefore I own everything and I certainly do not own,” he paused as he once again glanced at each and every machine. “whatever you call these…things.”

“Those are my machines and they work just fine!” Jane came around from behind the table Darcy had just placed and stood next to her. Both women faced Stark who was smirking at Jane like an adult does a small child.

“Not in my tower, I can give you much better machines.”

“I don’t have time for that these are already calibrated and-“

“Give me tonight.”

Jane stopped and stared at Tony for a full second before shaking her head in disbelief. “You think you can build replacements for all of these machines with the correct calibrations in one night?”

Tony’s answer was a smile as he turned around and entered the elevator which seemed to know exactly when to open and then he was gone.

“What just happened?” Darcy asked as she turned to look at Jane.

“I believe that was Sir accepting your challenge, Madame. He does have a habit of doing so.”

Both Jane and Darcy jumped and looked around for the automated, accented voice that came from no one.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Jarvis, an artificial intelligence created by, Sir. I am in charge of making the tower run as smoothly as possible with controls over security and privacy modems as well as everyday living essentials such as inventory and supplies.”

“That’s,” Jane paused for a moment to search for the correct wording, “interesting.”

“Yeah, real interesting,” Darcy responded looking around the room as if in search of someone to address, “say, Jarvis, do you watch residents while they shower? I’ll bet Stark has you take all kinds of naughty blackmail photos of all personnel so they can’t get out of their contracts.”

Jane opened her mouth to refuse but stopped when the AI did not respond in the negative.

In a way that can only be described as exasperated, the AI responded.

"It would go against privacy protocols that Ms. Potts has explicitly installed to record, in any way, any resident who is in a vulnerable state. I do, however, monitor each inhabitant’s health via their vital signals so that if someone becomes compromised with no one around, help can be dispatched."

“So Stark has asked you to but the queen of the tower has said not to?” Darcy asked.

The AI did not respond.

That night Darcy entered her own suite which was on the fifty-seventh floor, one of two which was considered the “residential floors” that only the Avengers and their significant others had access to. It was the biggest area Darcy had ever had to call her own and she squealed in delight and looked in every nook and cranny to find out what it had to offer. It was modestly furnished with modern, light-colored furniture that Darcy had been told could be switched out if she wished. It had a small living room with a bookshelf, small sectional, and television.

Off of that was a small hallway that led to a small kitchenette and a closet. Opposite of that was a guest bathroom, the master suite and the attached closet and bedroom. Darcy ran and jumped onto the queen bed which was positively the most comfortable thing she had ever been on in her entire life. It was moments like these that Darcy had the sense that maybe everything would be okay.

For dinner, Darcy met Jane in the dining room which was off of the main kitchen on the common floor. They had been informed the others were all out doing their own thing.

“By ‘own thing’ do you mean they’re out doing spy-things?”

“Well Katniss and Natalie are somewhere ‘classified’ doing ‘that’s classified’ and Brucie went out to some doctor-relief-humanitarian-thing-ew-and Capsicle is off with Wings to find his brainjacked-ex-best-friend-would-be-murderer. Does that answer your question?” Tony’s tone lacked the, what Darcy assumed to be usual, snark.

“Feeling left out, Tin Man?”

Tony studied Darcy for a moment, as if he was trying to solve some science problem in his lab. “I’m trying to figure out exactly how one such as yourself got an in with Dr. Foster.”

“I was the only-“

“Applicant, I know, that was in your SHIELD file which I read when Natalie dropped them onto the internet. What I mean is, why did she keep you around and, more importantly, why was SHIELD interested enough to have a file on you and make you sign all those NDAs.”

“Well-“

“And, while we’re talking about you, why does Thor insist on calling a mere intern his shield-sister?”

“I tazed him.”

Tony’s eyes widened a fraction and he leaned forward in his chair to put his hands on the table.

“Come again?”

Darcy rolled her eyes and shrugged back into her seat, “I tazed Thor when we first met him.”

“You dropped an Asgardian god?”

“He was freaking me out!”

Tony’s eyes lit up and a smirk, what Darcy hoped was genuine because it would suck to get fired on her first day, appeared on his face. “You, I like you, we’re going to keep you.”

“Sweet.”

At that moment the Pepper Potts entered the room and Darcy instantly added her to her Girl Crush list. The woman was looking down at her tablet as she navigated around the area, and yet she exuded pure power and demanded attention. She was the kind of woman who could lead an army without much effort.

As she reached the table she looked up and acknowledged Darcy for the first time. Darcy felt the need to shrink under her gaze because the woman was intimidating and Darcy didn’t think she was even trying to be.

“Hello, you must be Darcy Lewis, I’m Pepper Potts. Welcome to the Stark Industries family. I apologize for not being able to meet you when you arrived, but the Board called an emergency meeting.”

“No worries, Ms. Potts, Jane and I can manage alright, no need to put yourselves out for us.”

Pepper smiled, said goodnight, and breezed out of the room.

The next day, it was decided Darcy would get lunch for Jane and the few science interns (who were actually interested in science) since she was the only one Jane trusted enough to not forget her favorites.

So Darcy found herself trying to navigate the New York streets with five bags of takeout in her arms and a bag with some piece that Darcy could never remember the name of that Jane had sent her to get at a hardware store (because she was refusing to use the new machinery Stark had concocted overnight until she was 100% sure they were calibrated correctly and apparently this piece would prove-or not-whether they were).

As she rounded the fourth to last corner she saw a large black object hurtling at her before she struck the brick wall behind her and all went dark.

When Darcy came to, she was chained to a chair in a dark room. It didn’t take long before two men entered the room and stood on either side of the door. A third man walked in and slowly strode toward her. Darcy’s vision was having a hard time focusing, and her whole body was sore and throbbing.

“Anyone want to tell me why I feel like I got hit by a truck?”

The man smiled, but it reminded Darcy of a snake because there was no warmth in the way his mouth curved upwards and no light was in his dark eyes. “Because you did, Ms. Lewis, although that was not part of the plan, however, we are so happy you could join us.”

Darcy tensed and her heart began pounding as Darcy’s muddled brain tried to place why that accent was familiar.

It sounded funny, but scary?

Russian. Yes, the accent was Russian. Why did that feel important?

Her inner musings were stopped when she realized the man was still speaking.

“So all we need from you Ms. Lewis are the answers to some questions. Cooperate and no harm shall befall you.”

“You mean besides being hit by a car?” Yeah, apparently concussions completely destroyed her filter.

“Why did Mr. Stark bring you to New York?”

“Because he loves my sparkling personality?” Even with some level of concussion, Darcy knew there was no way she would willingly give up information.

“Ah yes, they did say something about your-how did they word it?-snarkness?”

“Close, but not quite.”

Darcy didn’t even see the slap that knocked her head to the side, she just felt the sting and tried to ignore the nausea that swept over her. Her neck felt stiff and she couldn’t quite hold her head up straight, but it didn’t deter her resolve.

“You will cooperate Ms. Lewis, or you will be in much more pain.”

Resigning herself to the fact that this was not going to end well, Darcy smiled sweetly at the goon and said, “Pain is weakness leaving the body.”

Hours later, the door opened once again and Darcy braced herself in the chair for more interrogation. She was getting scared because it was getting hard to focus and breathe and everything hurt. She didn’t want to betray Jane and tell anyone anything about her research or what little she’d seen of the Avengers’ Tower, but she was not trained for this and she was starting to lose the battle. In the time they’d left her alone when she became too beaten to talk even if she’d wanted to (she hadn’t) Darcy had started to worry. Who was going to come for her? Did they even know she was gone? If Jane was on some science binge, she may not notice Darcy’s absence for days. And it wasn’t like Stark would come rushing to her rescue, she’d just met him. This was looking very bad very fast.

The Hydra goon that opened the door, however, had a relaxed face, his eyes were glazed over and while they were staring at her general direction, there was no focus in them. As the body moved to take up the entire doorway, shrouding the figure with the light from the hallway, all Darcy could see was his large silhouette in the door.

Darcy’s eyes widened as the body dropped to the floor, revealing that it wasn’t the goon’s body taking up the doorway, but a second, larger man.

Darcy’s heart started to pound as the man, with stringy, brown hair and a very “I’m pissed and ready to kill” look entered the room and strode straight towards her. Darcy’s muscles tensed, preparing to be hit again, which hurt when the movement shifted her ribs. The man’s boots barely made a sound on the concrete floor which was surprising given the man’s stature.

But then again, clearly this guy was some spy-assassin-soldier-agent person and so being quiet was probably written into the job description.

The man glanced over Darcy’s form before reaching over and snapping the chains around her wrist with his hand. It took Darcy’s mind a moment to realize that his hand was metal and oh, God it’s the Winter Soldier.

When the chains rattled to the floor he grabbed her upper arm and hoisted her up to guide her toward the door.

“Thanks for the save, do you always make a habit of saving damsels in distress?” Just as they reached the door, two things happened simultaneously:

The Winter Soldier froze and looked back at Darcy, his blue eyes wide with a mix of frustration and some other emotion she couldn’t identify, and said, “It had to be you,”

and the hallway erupted with the blaring sound of an alarm, complete with flashing red lights.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Making It Up

Getting out of the building and into the city was a blur of blood, bullets, and swearing. Darcy’s mind was too focused on the fact that her soulmate was here, with her, and the fact that this was like some twisted nightmare.

My soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

My soulmate just saved my life.

But just because he was here, didn’t mean much. He’d said the words, the words that should be faded from her bracelet now wherever it was. Darcy didn’t have it on her wrist and she had no idea if Hydra had taken it from her or if it had fallen when they’d hit her with the car to incapacitate her.

Eventually the Winter Soldier (yes she knew his actual name was James Buchanan Barnes but all he had said to her were her words and then he’d remained silent so right now her brain classified him more as the Soldier than as the Howling Commando) stopped on the outskirts of a city and stalked out of the running car to a nearby payphone. He was only on the phone for a few moments before he slammed the phone down and stalked (he had a very I’m-about-to-murder-you walk) back to the car.

When he got back into the driver’s seat he slammed the door, pulled a small handgun out of the side of the door and handed it to her.

“Get out.”

Darcy’s eyes grew wide. “What?” She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her soulmate was not only a revered assassin and historic icon but he was going to leave her to die in the middle of nowhere.

He rolled his eyes and began lightly shoving at her arm to get her moving. “Get out of the car and wait in that abandoned shop.”

“Are you coming back?” Darcy hoped maybe she’d just jumped to conclusions. He was going to go do some spysassin things and come back for her. This was his misguided attempt at protecting her. He did somewhat care for her.

“No, now go.”

Darcy did not cry as she watched through the dusty glass window as the beaten truck sped down a gravel road, into a wooded area and out of her sight forever.

What was she supposed to do? The place was abandoned, the sun was starting to set, and she had no idea where to go.

In the back of the storefront was a counter that had once served as some kind of display case and register. Scared that more Hydra might be looking for her, in pain from her dealings with said Hydra goons, and emotionally worn from being kidnapped, finding her soulmate, and losing him, Darcy sunk down behind the counter-out of view from the street-and tried to think of something else.

The exhaustion that came with immense pain must have caused her to doze off because Darcy awoke hours later when the only light she had came from the full moon hovering over the buildings across the street.

As Darcy sat there she realized a noise had awoken her, and she peeked through the display case to see a very distinctive red and gold suit hovering above the street. She could hear the sound of the Iron Man suit as it whirred to keep its occupant above ground.

As fast as her aching body allowed her, Darcy rose from her hiding spot and tried to get out the door before Stark left. As she reached the old, rotting door she yelled out his name and the faceplate came up as he turned in her direction.

“Lewis! What the hell happened?” As she limped her way out towards him, his eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Christ kid are you alright? Steve, I’ve got her, follow the coordinates I just sent you.”

Maybe it was because of all that she had gone through, maybe it was because she was in so much pain, maybe it was the relief at no longer being scared with the arrival of someone she knew, but Darcy’s answer was to burst into tears as she dropped down to the sidewalk.

Stark, who was still hovering and had to lower to stand on the ground startled at the sight of her tears. He didn’t do well with emotions in general, let alone with traumatized people. “Aw, come one, kid, don’t cry! We’re going to get you home.”

As if on cue, the sky clouded up and thunder and lightning cracked open the sky and rain poured down. Thor smashed into the street beside Tony and headlights came blaring out of the woods (the same direction Darcy had watched her soulmate leave).

Thor rushed to crouch down beside Darcy and enveloped her into a big, warm hug. Even through her tears Darcy wondered how Thor could give a hug so full of comfort and warmth without putting her battered body through pain.

“Ease your mind now, shield sister, the Captain will drive us back to the Tower and the Doctor will tend to your injuries.”

As the car stopped, Darcy could just make out Steve Rogers as he leapt out of the driver’s seat and rushed towards them.

“Where is he? Where’s Bucky?” Steve was looking all around as if his super-enhanced eyes had missed the large form of his (former?) best friend.

Finally he turned to look directly at Darcy, as if actually seeing her for the first time. His eyes ran over her injuries and his jaw clenched, “Did he do that?”

Darcy tried to open her mouth to answer, but choked on the words at the last moment and shook her head.

“Where’d he go? Did he say anything? How did he seem?”

Suddenly the hysteria that had been controlling her body evaporated in the wake of white hot fury that erupted at Steve’s interrogation. His tone held more concern for his deadbeat best friend than it did for her. Not that she wanted everyone’s pity but for Christ’s sake she was beaten and hurting and clearly emotionally compromised and all Captain America was concerned with was the stupid idiot of a soulmate that had left her to fend for herself.

“I don’t know! All he said were my words and then he left me here to rot in the middle of nowhere. So, no, he didn’t fill me in on his elaborate plan to do whatever the hell it is that he’s doing. Sorry I didn’t think to ask!”

Yelling was not conducive with a headache and bruised (hopefully not anything worse) ribs but the anger had just poured out of her. Stark was standing off to the side, eyes wide at both her admission and outburst, Thor’s arms had tightened around her as if to console her more, and Steve looked both ashamed and in shock (which was weird but the dude was totally pulling it off).

“He what? He didn’t tell me that, he just called and said we needed to head this way to pick up someone. He, are you sure? Are you sure he said your words and you said his?”

Darcy felt more anger but before she could snap back Thor rose, taking her with him, and said in his I’m-Asgardian-royalty-obey-me voice, “Enough, Captain. Darcy would not be deceitful about such things. If she says she is his mate in souls than they share words. Let us return home.”

Darcy sat in the back seat, curled into Thor’s side as he gently stroked her hair. As she was dozing off she thought she heard a whispered conversation between the three men, but it was gone from her muddled memory by the next morning.

“I don’t understand. Bucky just said he had found someone important. Why would he run? If she was his soulmate he should be here with her. He could have come home. We can probably still track him from here-“

“Enough, Steven. Darcy is in need of medical attention, would you put her at risk for the chance of your friend? He has made his intentions clear.”

“Point Break is right, Cap. This was the perfect chance for him to come to you and his actions clearly say ‘Fuck off.’”

“I don’t want anyone at risk, but if he knew how to contact me-“

“Exactly, Capsicle. He called you, which means he’s known all along how to get ahold of you. He hasn’t. He seems to want to fly solo as he takes down Hydra cells. He must have run into Darcy and wanted nothing to do with her or us and kept on going.”

“I just don’t understand…”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3- My Oh My

The Asset? No.

Bucky? No.

Who the hell is Bucky?

James?

Barnes?

He sighed. He wasn’t sure who he was. Logically, he knew who he was supposed to be. He’d gone to the exhibit in the museum, he’d searched the internet and read about himself. As he’d gone through the outed SHIELD files and found Hydra stations, he’d gone through their hidden files and read about what had been done to him.

Now though?

He was now a third, mixed personality. He wasn’t the charismatic, charming Bucky that so many adored as a hero with the Commandos.

However, he felt a rage and frustration that the Asset had never been allowed to feel.

His major problem was he had no alliances, except to himself.

He knew who the Man on the Bridge was-Captain America-and he knew that he was once supposed to be his best friend. However, thoughts of him now just brought James anger and frustration because he had no memories of the man. It was like his subconscious remembered the man, because there was a nagging sensation trying to push through whenever his name was brought up but James’ body felt nothing-had felt nothing since he broke free from his captors.

Until her.

When James had entered that Hydra facility he had been on one mission: take it down. He had happened upon the room with the girl in it. Something inside him had told him to help her, to get her out of that damned facility and away from Hydra.

The moment she said those words Thanks for the save, do you always make a habit of saving damsels in distress, a memory had hit him so hard he had physically shook.

He could remember those words, before, from a long time ago, he could remember a bracelet wrapped around his left wrist, where’d stared at those words every day and been filled with a sense of pride.

Within that moment James had been struck once again with that sense of pride from his childhood. That night, after he had watched the Man on the Bridge and his allies take the girl to safety, he’d sat in the same high tree and let the full memory (one of the few he had) wash over him.

All the boys on his street envied him and his words. Out of all of them, everyone agreed he had the best ones in the five block radius. The words were good ones, not generic, but not something too mushy that would be the cause of jokes and nagging.

It also made him a role model to others. Clearly he was a hero. Bucky took those words to heart and tried to do the right thing. Whenever he saw a group of boys picking on someone smaller, weaker he stepped in even if he didn’t win (but he always did).

It’s that kind of living that brought him to meet his best friend. It’s that kind of thinking that gave him solace when he was drafted into the war. He should be fighting in a war; it was what he was meant to do. He couldn’t let his soul mate down. And what better way to show how much of a protector you were than being a soldier for the United States?

Thanks for the save, do you always make a habit of saving damsels in distress?

Many nights found Bucky sitting in bed thinking about those words, marveling at how much wit and fire his dame would have. Many boys imagined the words being a rushed, weak line from some little thing that had been in a bind. Bucky always imagined them being said with fire and bravery, as if his dame had had the situation under control and was more amused by his interference than thankful. Either way he didn’t care because he was going to be prepared either way.

But the idea of a fiery dame with curves and red lips was a recurring theme in his dreams.

The pride melted away as a flash of his left arm being removed flooded his mind. He looked down to find his metal hand (weapon) clenched tight, the faint whirring sound coming as the plates crammed together to increase pressure. They had taken his arm.

His words.

His life.

His soul mate.

He’d finally found her at the worst time. Of course, one tiny part of his brain was ecstatic. The faint part of him that remained from when he was Bucky was relieved to know that his soul mate was in fact alive. Since becoming free from the clutches of Hydra he’d been afraid, once he remembered that soul mates existed, that he’d already met his and killed them.

Or that Hydra had found them and killed them.

He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if he’d remembered killing his soul mate.

Of course, he probably would have never remembered. The only reason he’d recognized the girl as his soul mate was because when she’d said the words it had resonated deep within him and the visceral reaction had forced the memory through his tortured mind.

Within that millisecond James had had to respond (with fuckin’ stupid words, jerk) and made a plan. He had to get the girl-Darcy-away from Hydra and away from him. This was not a time to be with his soul mate.

He wasn’t sure there ever would be.

Hydra was still too present and too attached to him. He needed to continue his war against them. He also needed to atone for his sins and figure out who he was now that he wasn’t Bucky or the Asset.

And now he had to hope Hydra never found out who his soul mate was.

While he hadn’t shown it, James had been panicking. He had rushed to put distance between his soul mate and the Hydra facility while trying to keep her quiet, subdued, fearful. There had to be no indication that he and Darcy were connected.

There was an uncomfortable churning in his stomach when he had stopped at the payphone to call the Man from the Bridge (punk, mission) and get him to come.

“You have reached Stark Industries, what department do you require?”

“I need Captain America.”

“I apologize, sir, but Mr. Rogers does not accept outside calls, please-“

“Tell him it’s the Winter Soldier.”

A click, then a new, automated voice.

“Please, stay on the line, sir.”

“Jarvis? Why are you calling me?”

His heart pounded (til’ the end of the line).

“Captain, there is someone on the line I feel you would wish to speak with, please do not hang up.”

Click.

“Hello? This is Steve.”

“I have someone important. Bring your friends. Get the coordinates from this payphone.”

“Bucky? Where are you? Are you safe?”

Rustling, the Man was moving, dressing, hurrying.

“Hurry. She doesn’t have long.”

“She? She who? Bucky, please, don’t hang-“

Click.

James had left his soul mate but he’d only driven twenty miles away before he had run back on foot to watch over the girl (Darcy).

He needed her safe. He was sure the Man on the Bridge (Steve, punk, mission) would do just that.

Steve spent eighteen hours in the gym. Tony would be mad that he’d destroyed every punching bag (so much for the enhancements, Tony).

There were too many emotions swirling throughout him, battling for dominance. He was angry. Hydra had taken his best friend away and he kept slipping through his fingers. He was embarrassed. He’d been dismissive of Darcy last night (yesterday) and he felt awful. He’d only asked if Bucky had been the one to hurt her (thankfully he hadn’t been the culprit) but hadn’t bother to find out who had. He was scared. What was going on with Bucky? Who had taken Darcy? Why? How far would this consuming need to find his best friend take him?

How many other things had he neglected?

Thor was upset with him as well. He had been more concerned with Darcy (she is my sister in arms, Captain, treat her as such) and her wellbeing than with finding Bucky. Even Stark was seen pacing the halls outside of his newly installed medical rooms.

What a tool he was.

How in the hell could he lead the Avengers when his focus was so skewed?

It wasn’t until later the next night that Steve manned up enough to visit Darcy’s room.

She was sleeping when he snuck into the room. He quietly sat in the chair beside her bed, cataloguing every bruise and scratch that had been inflicted.

She looked worse than the night before. Her bruises had bloomed to their full black and blue. She looked paler than normal. Maybe it was because she had no makeup on, so her lips were the bright, vibrant red. Her blue eyes were open to draw you in with their richness.

This was Bucky’s soul mate.

The statement finally hit him.

He knew Bucky’s soul mate.

Bucky had found the person he was destined to be with and had called him.

Bucky had entrusted him with his soul mate.

The pain of regret weighed him down even more.

The old Bucky would have kicked his ass for treating his soul mate that way.

Leaving Darcy to her rest that night, Steve began planning.

He was in charge of keeping Darcy safe. That’s what his best friend wanted.

That’s what he would do.