Written for: piercethelowtime. July 17th, 2018 Bucky/Daisy first meeting soulmate AU.

Skye hadn't wanted to go to the park that day. She only agreed because it was Bailey's thirteenth birthday and Bailey was her best friend at the group home. Her party was a picnic on a windy hilltop. They would've had it in the gardens, which were Bailey's favorite, but some senator guy was doing a rally that day. Skye saw him enter the park with his entourage. He had gelled brown hair and he smiled like his mouth was permanently stuck that way. Skye was only twelve (or twelve and ten months thank you very much) but she knew already that she didn't like politicians. They were too phony and she'd dealt with enough phony people in her life.

She helped hold the blankets down with rocks and set the table. Her foster dad arrived five minutes late with a stack of pizza boxes. Skye grabbed a slice of sausage before someone else could take it all and sat with Bailey under a tree. They chatted about school and boys and what it was like to finally be a teenager.

"I'll be honest, I thought I'd feel different," Bailey said, "but I kind of don't."

"Maybe it takes a few days to settle in," said Skye.

"Yeah, maybe."

While their foster parents wrangled the younger kids (looked like Bobby had spit in Danny's food again) they watched a bird make a nest and the political guy give his speech. They were so far up, they couldn't hear what he was saying, but half the crowd loved it. The other half booed and he smiled even harder at them.

"After we eat, wanna go practice soccer?" Skye asked.

"Sure. I'll get the ball."

They let their foster parents know where they'd be and climbed down the hill to the empty soccer field just outside a huge forest. Skye liked the trees, but she was never allowed to go that far. Even though she was twelve years old (and ten months, thank you very much) she still got treated like a baby. She couldn't wait to turn thirteen.

Skye stood between the goalposts while Bailey kicked the ball over her head and under her arms. She was way too good at this game, but Skye always preferred kickball anyway. Ever since she was old enough to understand what the words on her stomach meant. She pulled her shirt over her pants as Bailey reared her foot back. She attempted a spinning kick, but her aim was way off and the ball flew through the trees.

"I got it," Bailey shouted, sprinting after it.

"We're not supposed to go in there!" Skye yelled back, but it was too late. Bailey was gone.

A few seconds later, someone snapped their fingers.

That was what it sounded like. A really loud snap followed by a chorus of screams. The political guy wasn't behind the podium. He was on his back, his face covered in red. He wasn't smiling anymore. His bodyguards surrounded him. They called for a full evacuation of the area. Bailey was still in the forest. Skye ran to the tree line and called her name, as loud as her lungs would allow. No one answered.

She entered the brush, rules be damned. Her foster parents would understand why she did it. No way would Skye ever leave her friend behind. She wandered through the trees, twigs snapping and leaves crushing under her sneakers.

"Bailey," she cried. "Where are you? We have to go!"

Through a pair of tall bushes, Skye caught sight of yellow hair and a bright green t-shirt. Her heart leapt. She tore into the clearing and nearly fell flat on her face. The ball was under her foot. Bailey wasn't even looking in her direction. Instead, she stared straight ahead at a man. A man dressed in all black, so dark Skye almost missed him. He wore a mask that covered his face below the forehead. His hair was long and unbrushed. There was something weird about his left arm, but it was far less important than the gun in his hand.

He walked straight, right at Bailey. Skye wanted to scream at her to run, but her voice was gone. Bailey either wouldn't move or couldn't. Probably the latter since she clearly saw the gun and knew she was one step away from an untimely death.

The world was on pause. All sounds gone. Skye had never thought of herself as heroic or religious, but she reared back her foot and kicked the ball with all her strength. As it sailed through the air, she prayed. 'Please let this work.'

The ball hit the masked man square in the temple. It bounced off his skull and into the darkness, never to be seen again. He didn't fall down, not that Skye expected him to. It did knock his goggles off. They fell at his feet and he looked at her with dull blue eyes.

"Pick on someone your own size!" Skye shouted. It sounded tough, but she was at least a foot shorter than him and therefore nowhere near his size. In fact, her moment of bravery might've just gotten them both killed.

The man charged, not running but walking with purpose. He raised the gun, pointing the barrel at Skye's head. She prayed again, even harder this time. She'd never known what happened to her family, if they really didn't want her or if they were all long dead, but if she had anyone up there waiting for her, she just hoped they were nice.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. It didn't come. The man grunted like he was in pain. When she looked he was hunched over, his free hand clamped down on his wrist. He pulled it slowly back, almost like half of him was trying to stop the other half from killing her.

"Nnngh-" he groaned. "Nn… no… I won't…"

He reached into his belt, pulling out a small circular object. It looked like a cherry bomb, but when he dropped it, a thick cloud of smoke surrounded her. Skye coughed and fell on her knees. Heavy footfalls moved quickly away from her and disappeared. By the time the smoke cleared, Bailey was on the ground, shaking and crying, but unharmed. The man was gone, not a trace of him left.

Skye told the police when they arrived, but despite saying they'd get back to her, they never did. The politician's assassination was never solved and eventually, Skye moved on with her life. But long after Bailey was adopted and moved across the country, after Skye turned eighteen and struck out on her own, and after starting her own tumultuous adventure into the world of espionage and superheroes, she never forgot that day in the park, or that man with eyes like the dead.

Not until Thanos was defeated and Daisy Johnson walked in on Steve Rogers and the newly resurrected Bucky Barnes. She stumbled as her brain registered their presence and nearly walked into a desk. "Sorry! Sorry. Thought this room was empty."

"It's okay," Steve said pleasantly. He nodded at Barnes. "Buck, this is Daisy Johnson. She and her team were a big help in… you okay?"

Barnes was either not okay or extremely okay. Daisy had no idea which, only that she'd never seen eyes quite that wide or quite that blue either. They were mesmerizing, and oddly familiar. Daisy found herself staring at him as he rose to his feet and walked to her. A twinge of fear leftover from childhood hit her, but faded quickly when he smiled.

"Nice to meet you," he said, taking her hand, "just promise you won't hit me with a kickball again."

Daisy's jaw dropped. Steve seemed to realize what was happening and quickly bowed out. A million and one thoughts ran through Daisy's head so fast, her brain needed to reboot itself several times before she finally got something out.

"It was a soccer ball…"

He chuckled, but his mirth died fast, replaced with apprehension. "I know I didn't leave a good impression on you the first time, but Wakanda is beautiful this time of year. Want to maybe go for a walk?"

This had to be the craziest way anyone had ever met their soulmate. The kind of thing that turned her off romance films because it was so unrealistic. Just another day for Daisy Johnson.

"I'd love to," she said, and she really meant it.