Happy Quinn's life began and ended with a dull orange mark splashed across her elbow and the knowledge that he was engaged.

Toby Curtis's life began and ended with a screaming blue blotch spread across his chest and the knowledge that he was engaged- but not to his soulmate.

The oldest and youngest members of the team roughhoused often, a gentle shove here or not-so-gentle push there and all Happy could do was dodge their limbs and avoid their stares. She was used to it, twenty-five years of cutting off conversations and pushing people away until it was instinct, and she had thought that two idiots who acted like children weren't going to change that, until he tackled her. His hand collided with her elbow first and against all her good graces she shoved against his chest until oh hell no. She never wanted this at all, let alone with him. Her face paled, breathing hitched, and eyes locked on the ring sitting on his finger that was meant to symbolize everything that should've been hers, except it wasn't. He found it from another women, from a different job that probably cared about the colored dots taking up space on her skin to tell her part of her future.

He rolled off of her and extended a hand out in help but she shook her head, eyes cold and walls up and thoughts of 'well, he's engaged, I can't tell him,' and 'shit,' ran through her mind. Her legs felt weak when she pulled herself off the ground and she couldn't stand it. Because everything about it was fucked up and she didn't even see his colored skin she could feel it and she doesn't like feeling. She spent too much time as a child with people who decided to pretend instead of wait. They'd wear not enough clothes and drink too much and end up telling themselves that "Yes! They had something." even though they didn't- they couldn't. Happy huffed out a breath and turned around, bumps her hip on a desk because she's overwhelmed; she left as early as possible that night, and stopped at the liquor store to grab a bottle because if there's one thing she needed it was a way to forget.

She unlocked her apartment door and threw off her jacket in a hasty attempt to check if it was true, because maybe they made a mistake. She was okay with being alone, it was an accident and it meant nothing and if she says it enough it has to be true.

Her eyes were wide and her brow furrowed as she stared into the mirror at her arm, splotched with orange in the same color as the skyline at sunrise. So she breathed out a 'fuck.' before going to the den and kicking off her boots. She tipped the bottle back and somewhere between 12 and 3 tears started streaming down her face and her hands became too shaky. 'Who planned this'; who gets a say in her future when she doesn't even know this guy that well and he's engaged and happy and she can't do that to him but she also can't hold onto this by herself for too long because with years of it only ever being fake how can she process something and someone too real to be hers? And she's used to things being unfair but this is just cynical. Too soon, for her taste, the bottle was empty and it did a really shitty job. It's all she managed to drag herself onto the couch and call Walter, because she's sorry but she can't come in today, but don't worry she'll be back tomorrow.

Things continued and there were stolen glances and avoidance of one another even though Toby still made quips. One day she came in and he wasn't there and she was equal parts concerned and relieved until he came back the next day, bedraggled and shaken up and without a ring anywhere to be found. (She didn't say anything, because he figured it out and now the worry and anxiousness and nonononono is back.)

She stayed late that night, enough to find him stumbling in with a bloody lip and swollen jaw and she couldn't really help but to wince.

"What in the hell did you do?" She yelled across the garage as he flopped on the couch, ignoring a sleeping Walter. He smiled but it's not real because his brain had just been jumbled around.

"Gambling's easy when you're me," his breath smelled like alcohol and she was surprised he was able to drive here without killing himself. "But they like violence, and I don't. They're all angry." She scoffed and reached for the rubbing alcohol and a pain reliever.

"Angry just like you."

Her movement stopped and the bag of cotton balls fell to the floor.

"What?" It's through gritted teeth that she spoke. He looked at her in deep thought and there was a tugging telling her he wasn't thinking straight, and probably wouldn't remember this in the morning, so she might as well stay, as much as she wanted to storm out and leave him in pain for Walter to deal with. How could he be her soulmate?

"You're hostile. And you can't stop dwelling on how the universe planned for us to be together. And I put the pieces together and ended it but maybe I shoulda stayed with her, cause you know what to do less than I do." Even though his words were slurred he was still a genius and he wasn't wrong. (And it terrified her, because he's been paying closer attention than she had thought.)

"You're drunk, and beat-up. So let me give you a Tylenol and leave." There was more, so much more, she wanted to say but it would have been like talking to a wall, completely unworth it. She patched him up enough and he was soon asleep and she couldn't go back to banging her metal but she didn't want to go to her apartment so she drove around for far too long.

The car kept moving until it was almost out of gas and she was about to pass out, so using a sharp u-turn she got herself back to the apartment and slept in the same clothes she'd been in for 14 hours. Her eyeliner was smeared the next morning, but when she got to the garage Toby looked a little better and she sighed a sigh of relief even though she was pissed. Then she saw herself beginning to change, worrying about him even a little. It was enough to know eventually the whole thing would be unavoidable (but she'd try as hard as she can for as long as she can to keep him at a distance either way.) He gave her a weak smile, catching the tiredness in her eyes and tension in her stance. She rolled her eyes and ignored him, decided that if she acts like nothing happened he wouldn't bring it up and nothing would change.

Except she stayed late for the second night in a row, and once again he came back black and purple and she was on the verge of killing him herself, before anyone else did due to his stupidity.

(She stopped leaving late.)

Less than two months passed-but who was counting?- when he took hold of her wrist and she agreed to follow him up onto the roof. They each leaned against the ledge on their elbows, taking in the scenery before he spoke.

"Well, are we ever going to be adults about this? Or just keep running in circles?" His voice was sincere, no sarcasm or humor in his words.

"You were engaged, I couldn't exactly tell you she wasn't 'the one,' hell, I might not even be. Aren't we always trying to change our fate anyway?" He huffed at her words and looked down at the busy street below.

"What separates the winners from the losers is how a person reacts to each new twist of fate.- Donald Trump." Where he got that from she didn't know, but it made her more angry and distant because why couldn't he just understand that she didn't care about love and soulmates when everyone always wanted more than they had, no matter what? Shaking her head, she gave up. turned away from the shrink.

"I remember what I said, y'know. From the night I broke things off, and came stumbling into the garage." Happy stilled, tilting her head to the sky.

"That you were angry, because we were soulmates. You know what I told Melissa?" They met eyes and he searched for anything in her rich brown 'windows-to-the-soul.' "I said that I was so sorry. So fucking sorry because I could feel that she wasn't it. That I'm a doctor and I've read all the studies and I'd swear on my life I thought she was it, because we always refused to show each other where the colors were anyway. And then I met you, Happy Quinn, and you have flipped my life upside down in the best way possible." His voice cracked, eyes glinted with tears reflected by the light of sunset. Toby swallowed thickly, continuing.

"And, she said it was all my fault. That I didn't want to make sure and now she'd wasted 4 years of her life with a shrink. So she kicked me out, told me to find somewhere else for the night and to get my shit the next day. So I went to the tables, got beat up and you were there and I swear everytime you touched my jaw sparks flared." His breathing was ragged, eyes shut and hands gripping the railing like a lifeline. Happy's eyes were slightly red-rimmed but her expression was anger, furiosity, rage. When she yelled back at him her voice was strained with pent-up emotion. A patch of color on her skin had caused all of this, and she would've ended it if she could.

"You think it was simple for me?" She dared him, "I waited months for the mighty fall because I just ruined your life. I spent years trying to cover up my arm because my dad didn't want me, and foster homes gave me up so I figured if I never thought about knowing someone would have me wound into their body, I'd be fine. Alone and okay. And then you showed up. Made my life a living hell with that ring because you weren't each others but I wasn't yours either." She was shaking, throat raw and if she shouted any louder they probably would've heard her inside the garage.

"Toby people are too good at pretending and I don't want that. You're the behaviorist and I'm the mechanic and we're a part of this team. Nothi-"

"We're fucking soulmates, Happy! God-sent, star-crossed!" He howled, throwing his hands up with everything he had.

"I couldn't care less! I don't want this! I'm just fine on my own! Please!" She breathed out a rough 'oh my god.' tears stinging her eyes and lungs not functioning at a constant rate. In an attempt to calm her he takes her arm, right where the orange resides, but she jerks away too fast and the comforting gesture is lost. A strangled noise escaped his mouth and she whipped her head over to find him feverishly wiping his eyes. Her back slid down the wall so she was sitting on the dirty floor but he followed her into the position. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she wasn't looking anywhere other than her shoes. Toby was still kind of crying and her eyes were leaking as well because now they were in this mess and there was no turning back. They could take it slow, or rarely acknowledge it but the moment was happening and she needed to throw something or hit someone. Instead she stood back up and took off her jacket.

Toby looked at her again as she roughly pulled of the leather jacket she was wearing.

"Stand up. Now."

He stood up and she was at his side, ripping his shirt off on the now-dark, moonlit roof.

"What are you doing?" His voice was dry but hers was full with emotion when she spoke, cracking and changing pitch because she didn't know how to sort through her thoughts and make them something comprehensible so this was what he got.

"You said," she choked, "that you and your fiancée never saw the color the other had. To keep it real or whatever, but we've still never seen each other's. And I need to know this is true, because you're real and were in this fucked up mess of a situation right now together. So we're making it official and real." Her words were rushed but her hands were on his chest, where the hints of blue peeked through even in the dark because they were so vibrant. Soon he grabbed her arm to stop her, her body was trembling and she'd inspected every centimeter of his body. His eyes scanned over her slender arm, her elbow standing out against the pale of the rest of her.

"From when I tackled you," Toby pointed out, laughing at the memory. The memory of the motion that had incited this whole mess.

"Yeah…. We should get back inside, we've been up here for far too long." She shrugged her jacket back on and threw him his shirt, taking a second glance at the Doctor before heading without another word.

The following day they had another conversation, less of a screaming match and more of a 'we need a game plan.' It started with Happy, telling him again how she really couldn't, that there was a million other things to do and she didn't need love. Toby continued on, rambling out the insecurities carried with a new relationship of any sort, especially right after a breakup.

"I can't do this yet." He held her gaze as she whispered, but when he held her hand she only flinched, tried to relax into it.

"You don't have to yet. We'll always be here, unless you're planning on leaving, but I'm not." She nodded, slowly and a small 'maybe we'll be okay, somehow.' flashed through her mind, making her smile.

They settled on knowing what they did in the back of their minds but letting things play out without any pushing. Toby still made quips and Happy threw wrenches and fighting happened but there was always a slight difference now, "you're fighting with the person you're going to be with forever, one way or another." He gambled still, but she started staying late again and if he so happened to pop in with a black eye and no cash, she'd throw him the Advil and give him some ice. (And, really, they just ran in circles, but hoped one day it'd branch off into a straight path of a future.)