*Author's Note*

Thank you for the faves, follows, and reviews.

Here it is, the new chapter is finally up. YAY! Sorry I've been busy, but I haven't forgotten about this story or my other ones. Have fun reading. Oh, and it's a long chapter too.

Bonding With Pops

Gem POV:

"Oh my god, Brock was so cute." I cooed at the picture of Brock as a baby, laying on a blanket with his bare ass in the air.

"He was trying to get away from his ma during changing time. We didn't have money for a changing table so she just changed him on a blanket on the floor. I thought it was funny, so I grabbed my camera and snapped some photos." Pointing to a picture a few rows down, he said, "Here's Brock with his ma, Loren, after she was able to change him."

Baby Brock was being held by a beautiful blonde. Her big curly hair fell in tendrils around her face and shoulders like a large halo. She was also wearing one of those tight metallic print shirts with the flowy disco sleeves and matching bellbottoms. She looked like a disco diva. Her hazel eyes shined with happiness as she held her baby boy. Looking at her with Brock on her hip, I gathered that the only thing he inherited from his mom was her hazel whiskey eyes. Other than that, they didn't have the same coloring. Hmm, I wonder who he looks like since he doesn't really resemble Arlo.

"She's pretty." I dumbly told my soulmate's dad, mostly cause I didn't know what to really say about his late wife.

"Yea, she was." Arlo nodded in agreement. "My boy didn't get her beauty, but got my rugged looks and head of perfect hair from me."

"Huh?" I asked, my brow arched up, since Pops had short cropped white hair and a clean-cut jaw. He also didn't look like he could've been a handsome rugged man in his youth either.

He let out a chuckle before flipping the page. Pointing to a picture of him holding baby Brock (in nothing but a diaper might I add), he simply said, "See the hair."

When Pops was young, he did have a full head of dark, fluffy and soft looking hair. I could see the resemblance between his hair and his son's, from the current-ish picture of Brock framed and hung on the nearby wall. "Yea, he did get your hair." I agreed with a smile. "He also got your nose and jawline too." I added in, noticing that Brock did somewhat resemble a young Arlo from the 70s.

"To bad he didn't get my common sense, but Loren's stubbornness instead." He sighed, turning the page in the book to reveal some more cute baby photos of Brock.

They were bath time pictures and I was smiling and cooing like a fool while looking at pictures of baby Brock in a bath tub, surrounded by a bunch of floating rubber duckies and bubbles. "Oh my god, he's so cute!", I cooed.

"His Ma dumped half a bottle of Mr. Bubbles in there; that's why he looks like he's in the damn foamy waves of the Mediterranean Sea." Arlo explained before lowly muttering, "Must've been high as a fucking kite when she did it.", under his breath.

Suddenly, Brock popped into my head with, "Baby, what's got you feeling so mushy and gooey? I'm on a mission and all these unicorn and fluffy rainbow feelings are fucking distracting."

"Pops and me are looking thru your baby book."

"Oh no…"

"You were such a cute little baby. Oh my god, you were so adorable in the bubble bath with the rubber duckies."

"Great…" Brock sarcastically baritone was slightly raspy as he snarked, "You're getting cavities from how cute I look in my baby book while I'm roaming around in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with Rollins looking for a fucking safehouse with some half-asses coordinates."

"Sorry, not sorry, but you were such a cute baby." I unapologetically told my soulmate. "You know that I saw your last SEAL picture, it's hanging on the hall, and you're hot."

"Thanks. I was so worried that you wouldn't think I was hot." He sarcastically joked with me, lightening up his mood slightly as he walked around with his teammate in some undisclosed location looking for a safehouse. "Wait til Pops bust out the yearbooks or the albums from my teen years. You'll be dying from my hotness." He teased.

"I saw that picture of him holding you after diaper change time and you get your looks from him. Pops was handsome, like Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry handsome, in the 70's."

"Goddamnit…he would be showing you pictures of me as a baby in diapers…" My soulmate darkly muttered under his breath. I could feel that he was a bit embarrassed.

"I could always have Uncle Rocco send Pops some of my baby pictures so he could forward them to you. You know, even the playing field a bit."

"I bet you were a precious little angel." Was Brock's instant reply to my offer. His tone was genuine; he wasn't mocking me with his remark, but meant it. Before I could say anything back, he quickly told me in a more cutting tone, "I better go, we're getting close to the safehouse, but I'll reach out to you later baby."

"Okay, honey. Stay safe and stick by Rollins."

"I will. Have fun looking at those albums with Pops." He told me before out connection fizzled out.

Giving me a hard stare, Pops dryly asked, "You done talking to my boy yet so we can carry on or what?"

"Yea, I'm done talking to Brock." I answered, causing him to flip to the next page in the book.

"He somewhere kicking ass?" Pops asked, even tho his tone portrayed a sense of knowing in it, as his eyes roamed over the pictures of him with his infant son.

"No, he's somewhere with Rollins looking for a safehouse." I honestly told Arlo, a soft, but small smile appearing on my face as I looked at the pictures.

"Ah, so it's gonna be a long mission then. Safehouses are used for days away, so he ain't gonna be home this weekend." The weathered gym owner next to me mused in a grumpy tone, flipping the page in the album to reveal pictures of Brock's first Halloween.

"He really made you believe he'd be home this weekend?" I asked, looking between the pictures of Brock dressed up as a pumpkin and the man next to me.

"He said he was coming home and that we'd be spending time with his soulmate. That in my damn book mean the fucking shithead had plans to be here and spend time with you."

"Oh…"

"Next time yinz talk, bring up meeting. You might need to push him hard to get it set up, but if you press 'im it'll happen." Pops told me as we flipped thru the pages of the large baby book. He looked between the picture of him helping Brock unwrap Christmas presents and me, only to reveal, "Brock's scared to be with you cause you're so young. He's afraid of losing you like he lost his Ma."

"Um, what do you mean?" I asked, my brow arched up curiously.

A reminiscent look appeared on Arlo's wrinkled face before we went on to explain how he met his wife. "Loren was a young party girl. I was 21 and she was 18-years-old when we meet at an after party for a local fight. Turns out I heard her mentally grumbling, since it was a couple days after her birthday, and we realized we were soulmates. A month later we found out we were having Brock so we got married, but what I didn't know til after we tied the knot was that she was an addict." Shaking his head, he bitterly bit out the damning fact of, "Snorted coke and shot up speed."

"Oh…" I trailed out. Wow. Loren was so beautiful, a true disco diva, that I never even thought she'd be a junkie. She just didn't look like the type, but yet again I guess there was no clear type when it came to that stuff.

Pops nodded before going on to say in a deep, but tight tone, "She cleaned up once she got knocked up, but after Brock was born, I was off fighting; trying to work my way into the pro scene so she was home alone with a crying baby and she would start to use when her friends stopped by to visit and had shit on them."

"She OD'd, didn't she?" I asked, wanting confirmation on what I could only conclude was the tragic end for Loren Rumlow.

"Yea." Pops confirmed my suspicion. But he didn't stop there. No, he just had to add in the shocking fact of, "Brock came home from school when he was 6-years-old to find her dead on the couch with a crank needle sticking out of her arm."

"Jesus…" Flew out on my mouth before I could even think about how to react. Poor Brock, no wonder he had some reservations about soulmate bonds and meeting.

"He always blamed himself for being born and me for tying down his Ma too young for what happened, even tho in truth she just had demons that would've haunted her no matter what cause she made them way before we ever met."

"But I'm not cracked out and I'm perfectly capable of being with him even tho I'm young. I'm not going to break."

"Don't tell me that, tell him that." Pops ordered me while flipping the page in the baby book. "That's Loren showing off rock to her friends before they left him me with and took off for a New Years a party at Studio 54." Pops explained, pointing to a picture of Loren holding Brock while being crowded by her friend.

"Wasn't that one of Manhattan's hottest clubs in the day?"

"Yea. It was known for coke, sex, and disco dancing. A lot of A-list celebrities went to party. You had to be rich and famous or fucking sexy to get let into that place."

"So, you stayed home with the baby and your wife went out partying, and potentially cheating on you, at one of the hottest and wildest clubs in the city." I concluded while starring at the pictures of Loren and her friends posing with baby Brock.

"Yea, that's the fucking gist of it." Pops dryly scoffed.

"Was she a good mom to him?" I asked, without thinking better of it, as Arlo turned the page.

"She was when she was off the shit, but on the shit, well…all she cared about was her next fix and not being dope sick."

"Oh…"

"Just look at the pictures and don't worry to much about his Ma. It was what it was, nothing nobody could've done to change it." Pops snapped, sounding both hurt and bitter about the past.

I couldn't help, but feel like Pops was wrong about that. Maybe if he would've quit boxing and bought the gym sooner, he might've been able to keep a better eye on his wife and get her help. It sounds to me that Loren just felt too overwhelmed by being in her situation at such a young age; maybe even feeling like her soulmate wasn't much help and just turned to the only comfort she knew. Sadly, that was the crank needle. Maybe, just maybe if Pops paid more attention to his wife, then his boxing career he wouldn't picked up on the signs. But I guess would've, maybe, and what ifs didn't really count. A million different outcomes could've happened, but only one surely did. Maybe in another timeline Loren got clean and was able to help Arlo raise Brock up into a great young man, but sadly things like alternate timelines and universes only happen in the movies.

Black Friday is known for holiday sales shopping; the women in my family religiously raid the sales racks of Macy's and every other store in downtown Manhattan every year, but this year I wasn't joining them. No, instead of waking before dawn to get a good spot in line for a department store, I was waking up to go to the gym. Yea, Arlo had asked (told) me to work in his gym with him, so that's why I was dragging my ass out of Brock's childhood bed instead of sleeping in. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and flipped on the lamp on the bedside table, causing me to blink from the bright and rapid change in the room's lighting, before going over to where my duffel was set on the dresser.

After grabbing some yoga pants and a t-shirt, I went to the bathroom. The small bathroom hadn't been redecorated since retro was mainstream, much like the kitchen of the rowhome. God, the baby shit green walls, floors, sink, toilet, tub, and cabinet was way too much. God, even the hand towels hanging on the rack near the sink looked like they were from the disco era by their faded green and orange stripes; they were also a bit frayed at the ends too.

Shit, thank god my Uncle and Auntie updated the look of their rowhome they share with Gramps and Nonna, cause I don't know how I would've survived living in a retro fitted house. But, eh, to each their own. I think Pops never updated the house because it reminds him of his wife; the good memories they had and stuff.

Of course, the only thing in the shower was a bar of Irish Spring and a bottle of cheap shampoo. Quickly, I took a shower in the outdated tub, which had an ugly green and orange shower curtain that's seen better days, and towel dried my hair before getting dressed and heading downstairs to grab some coffee.

"Brock's the family chef, not me. Ya want something to eat you've got the choice 'tween toast or Cheerios." Arlo told me, sipping on his coffee while sitting at the breakfast bar; reading his morning paper, as I walked into the kitchen.

"I didn't know that Brock could cook." I honestly told Pops as I made my way over to the coffee pot on the counter.

"Well, now you do." He simply replied as I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured myself some coffee. Turning the page of his paper, Pops informed me, "Don't got creamer, but there's milk in the fridge."

I nodded, only to go over to the fridge. "So, are we going to be at the gym all day?" I asked, grabbing the milk from the fridge.

"Yea. That a problem for ya?" Pops retorted as I went back over to the counter with the milk jug.

"Nope." I popped my tongue, grabbing a spoon from a drawer before pouring some milk into my coffee.

"You gonna eat anything?" He asked, never taking his gaze off of his paper.

"I'm not really hungry." I honestly answered while sticking the milk back into the fridge.

"If your worried 'bout that jerkoff ya used to see bothering ya while you're in town, don't. He's in Rikers, auto theft." Pops told me as I took a seat next to him at the breakfast bar.

"Oh…" I trailed off, sipping on my coffee.

"If you're ready, we can get going. Since all you've got's coffee ya can just bring it to the gym."

"Okay. Let's go."

*A Few Minutes Later*

"Your punches have gotten too soft since you moved down south." Pops barked, sounding every bit like the gruff and hardened trainer that his years of owning a gym had molded him into. Tilting his head at me in a snarky gesture, he asked, "Don't you train no more?"

I landed a punch, which wasn't that bad for being away from a bag for a couple of years, to the large punch bag while answering Arlo with an honest, "No, Pops. I don't train anymore."

"Why not? You always trained here with Rocco." The old trainer pried, folding his hands over his chest as he observed me training for what was the first time since I started college a couple of years ago.

"There isn't a boxing gym in Willowdale." I huffed out, landing punch after punch to the bag.

"Then go to Norfolk and get a gym membership." Pops told me in a simple tone. Before I could utter a word, he went on to say, "Brock's got one at a boxing gym; yinz might even run into each other at EasyWorks Boxing if you go."

Aha, so that's the real reason why he wants me to join the boxing gym in Norfolk. I didn't want to blindside Brock by showing up at his gym if he didn't want me there, but I didn't want to tell Pops that. So, I decided to just give him the excuse of, "I can't go to the gym in Norfolk. I don't got a car."

"Why don't you got a car? You can have one now on campus, can't ya?" Arlo asked, his voice curious and snappy at the same time, as he gave me a leveled look with his crows feet framed eyes.

"Willowdale's a very small town and the Culver campus is in the heart of it. Everything's within walking distance." I explained my lack of a car while landing punch after punch after punch to the bag; making it swing back and forth squeakily from the hinge bolting it to the ceiling.

Pops shook his head and rolled his eyes at me before ordering, "Then take a cab to Norfolk and get your ass in that boxing gym so yinz can run into each other."

"You really want us to meet, huh?" I asked, my brow raised, as I continued to train.

"Yes, I do." Arlo answered me. I nodded, causing him to let of a deep sigh before telling me, "My son needs to be with you physically, not just with a soulmate bond, to ground him cause he does some fucking stupid risky shit for work sometimes."

"Oh…" I trailed off, watching the bag swing back and forth in the air after landing a hard hit to it..

The door to the gym squeaked open, followed by a loud, "Hell, Gem, you back from college already?"

Joey, Arlo's prized fighter, had arrived for training and of course he noticed I was back. I just rolled my eyes before turning my sights on the fighter and giving him the retort of, "Yea, I'm back. Turns out Arlo's gonna be my new Pops too."

Joey's brows furrowed in confusion for a good minute before the meaning of my words hit him. "Your soulmate's Brock?"

"Yep." I popped my tongue. "So, guess I'll go tidy up the gym or something while Pops coaches you." I remarked, tugging off my gloves before walking away from the punching bag I was using.

Arlo was standing by the bag as he grumbled, "Get your ass over here, Joey. You're late; bad for your training, you dumb fuck."

Man, I'm going to be having an interesting day…

My ringtone, which was some obnoxious song Darcy put on my phone as a joke, loudly echoed in the gym; causing everyone to stop and stare at me. "Sorry." I sheepishly told everyone while pulling my phone out of my bra (yea, I didn't have any pockets so I had to stick it somewhere). Quickly, I answered it with a, "Hey, Darcy.", while rushing over to Arlo's office.

Darcy didn't even bother with a return greeting. No, she just went in for the kill with, "So, how's your weekend with Blane and co going?"

"It's not going since I stormed out and went to Pops' instead." I answered while slamming the door to the office shut and taking a seat on the sofa.

"You should've went there from the get go, but whatever you're there now." My best friend told me in one of those 'oh well' type of tones.

"Funny thing is that Pops is Arlo, the guy that owns the gym my Uncle Rocco trains at."

"So, you already know Brock's Pops and he's a family friend? Holy shit batman, this is great news. Maybe you can get Pops to knock some sense into his son's head so ya'll can finally meet." Darcy loudly babbled over the phone as I lounged on the aging and cracking leather sofa. The thing's seen better days, that's for sure.

"He thinks Brock meant to come here to Bensonhurst for the holiday weekend, since he made him believe that we'd all be spending time together." I revealed to my sister from another mister, hoping that if she knew that little fact, she might stop bugging me about meeting Brock.

Of course, Darcy couldn't react the way that I wanted her to. No… She just had to ask the dreaded one word of, "But?..."

"But Brock had a mission." I answered in a long-dejected sigh.

"He is a STRIKE Commander for SHIELD, so I can see how a mission got in the way of spending a holiday weekend together." Darcy reasoned in a nonchalant tone. Quickly, Darcy changed the subject with the question of, "So, what're you going to do about Blane?" That question was like a bucket of ice-cold water getting poured over my head.

"Honestly, I don't know."

"You don't know? Gem, my sister from another mister, you know what you need to do. You need to dumb the soulless bastard."

"I know, Darce, but I don't want to be that person who dumps somebody during the holidays."

"So, what, you're going to wait til after February 14th to dump the loser since that's the end of all winter holidays?" Darcy sarcastically asked. No doubt she was rolling her eyes and making funny faces on the other end of the phone too.

"No, but I do know that I don't want to dump him after Thanksgiving or before Christmas."

"I think you should, but yet again I'm not that great of a person since my soulmate is a lovely jacked-boot thug on a secret Marine Special OPs team. Oh, wait a minute, your soulmate's more or less the same kind of man as mine so maybe you should just listen to me and dump Blane even tho tis the season to be merry."

"Don't patronize me, sister. I'll dump Blane, just not right now." I firmly told my bestie as I looked out the window of the gym, watching the fighting train on the main floor.

"Gem, you need to talk to Brock about this. Find out if he really wants to meet, tell him about your bullshit with Blane, and figure shit out otherwise you're going to be stuck in this cat and mouse limbo crap forever and that's not cool."

"Okay, okay, I'll talk to Brock later tonight about everything."

"You better or else I'll have to tell that hot jacked-boot to get his ass in gear via hacked email." Darcy threatened me, good naturedly of course.

"Oh my god, don't do that." I half ordered; half-groaned.

"Then get rid of Blane and get your shit together with Brock." Darcy told me before going on to say, "Anywho, I had a great Friendsgiving with Foggy. He set the turkey on fire Tim Allen in The Santa Clause style and everything so we ordered Chinese and ate on his patio since his apartment smelt like smoke and fire."

I let out a little giggle before telling her, "Sounds like fun. I had the dinner from hell with the cream cheese family at Erling Manor."

"Oh, please tell me all about that my sister."

"Only if you share the dets with Billy." I joked, knowing that as soon as I told her about my shitty Thanksgiving that she'd relay the info to her soulmate.

"I will, now spill it." Darcy eagerly blurted out, causing me to go on a comical rant about my dinner from hell at Erling Manor.

After spending the day at the gym, me and Pops grabbed some take out from a local deli and went back to the house. We ate in the living room and watched the Wizard of Oz on tv. Pops ended up dozing off before it ended, so when it did end, I just turned off the tv, draped a throw on him, and went upstairs to my guestroom which was actually Brock's childhood bedroom.

Once I was in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, I turned on the small corner tv that was perched haphazardly on a dresser and turned on the encore showing of the Wizard of Oz. I decided to reach out to Brock with a simple, "Hi."

Instantly, Brock responded to me with, "Hey, baby girl, how'd your day with Pops go?"

"Good. We spent the day at the gym training fighters all day. I also talked to Darcy too."

"Oh, bet that was fun. What did she say when you told her about ditching Blane's family for Pops?"

"She thinks his family's the evil soulless cream cheese version of the Mansion family if they were rich yuppies from Upstate Connecticut instead of cracked out killer hippies from SoCal." I told Brock, earning a loud chuckle from him. "She also thinks that I should just dump him."

"Do you wanna dump him?" He inquired, his tone having a very serious tone to it.

"I don't wanna be the person that dumps somebody during the holidays, but if you're serious about us meeting up then eventually I need to dump him."

"Maybe if my mission wraps up early, I'll drop by."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Brock. You're in a safe house with Rollins right now, you're not going to be dropping in before I leave on Sunday."

"We could arrange a meeting; then you'd have to get rid of Blane."

"You sound just like Darcy…" I sighed, letting my words hang out heavily between our bond.

"Maybe you should heed her advice, baby. She's like your sister; just wants to see you happy."

"I know…"

Quickly, he suggested, "We can make some plans to meet up. Maybe over Christmas?"

"Okay." I agreed while watching Dorothy and Toto get caught up in a tornado for the second time tonight.

"Just so you know, I might be getting another tattoo soon." Brock told me in a nonchalant tone as I watched that lady on her bike ride by Dorothy's house and turn into the Wicked Witch of the West.

"How soon?" I asked, but only because I wanted to know when to expect a phantom pain somewhere on my body since we were connected in very way a soulmate bond could connect a couple.

"Today."

"Great, thanks for the warning, honey." I dryly and sarcastically told my other half as I watched the house fall onto the evil witch with the ruby slippers and kill her.

"Would you consider getting another one?" Brock asked, more or less out of the blue. The only reason he knew about the tattoo I got on my hip last year was because of the pain he felt when I got it. If it wasn't for our bond allowing us to feel each other's physical pain, well, he wouldn't have known.

Of course, he keeps asking aout what it is, but I won't tell him. I just tell him he'll see it one day. Eh, Darcy said that I needed to keep it a mystery so he'd be all surprised one day when we met, so I was just taking her advice. Hey, didn't Brock say I needed to listen to her more? If he only knew…

"Why?" I curiously asked while watching Glenda the Good Witch appear out of thin air.

"Well, I was thinking we could get matching ones. A soulmate tattoo." My soulmate answered while I watched Glenda ask Dorothy if she was a good witch or a bad one on the tv.

My brown eyes widened as the weight of Brock's suggestion hit me. Blinking, I asked, "You want to get a couple's tattoo? But we haven't even met yet."

"It'd be a soulmate tattoo; I don't see any problems with getting it."

"You know if we do it then things aren't going to last long with me and Blane."

"Well, isn't that what we want?" He rhetorically asked, only to quickly add in the fact of, "You're my soulmate, not his."

"What do you have in mind, a symbol or something?" I asked as the munchkins began their song and dance on the tv.

"I was thinking about a compass. I was in the Navy, plus since we're soulmate's we're each other's True North."

"Wow, that's actually very meaningful. I didn't know that you had poetic and romantic bones in your body."

Brock let out a chuckle, only to playfully tell me, "Just cause I'm a jacked-boot thug doesn't mean I don't have a soft side for my baby girl, Gem."

I was silent for half a minute before I asked, "So, when do you want to get it?"

Brock didn't miss a beat, he just shot right back with, "Christmas time, when you're at Pops' for break."

"So, we're for sure meeting then?" I asked, watching Dorothy dance away from Munchkinland and down the yellow brick road towards the Emerald City.

"Sure, unless a mission pops up."

"It better not." I mentally muttered as a commercial for Hershey's Kisses came on. You know, the Christmas one where the kisses ring like bells to the tune of We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

"It won't." Brock swore before going on to tell me about how he needed to go to the market soon and meet up with his third world tattoo artist. Apparently, Rollins was meeting some target while Brock got new ink. Nice, right? "You just watched that Christmas Hershey Kisses commercial, didn't ya, baby?"

"Yea. How'd you know?"

"The ringing of the bells is stuck in your head; I'm hearing it on loop right now." Brock informed me, his tone a bit light and amused. "I gotta head out. Enjoy your weekend, baby girl."

"Okay, honey. Bye; stay safe." I responded to Brock right before our soulmate bond fizzled out.

!

The rest of the weekend seemed to fly by fast; before I knew it, it was time for me to go back to Culver. Blane never bothered to call or text to offer me a ride, meaning he was a grade A asshole. Since I didn't have a ride back to Virginia, Pops offered to take me in his classic El Camino. So, that's why I'm currently cruising down 95 with Born To Be Alive by Patrick Hernandez blaring from the speakers of Arlo's dark green muscle car.

We're halfway to Willowdale since Pops drives like a speed demon. Gosh, we're racing by other cars, weaving in and out of the different lanes, as the poppy disco tune filled the car. Turning to me, aviators on and looking like an older Dirty Harry badass, Pops asked me, "You coming back for Christmas vacation, right?"

"Yea." I nodded. With a small smile, I added in, "Brock says he'll be in Bensonhurst for Christmas too. He wants to meet; get soulmate couple tattoos too."

"Damn, that fucking shithead finally got some sense, huh?" Arlo chuckled, the corners of his mouth pulling up into an amused smirk.

"Yea, guess he did." I nodded, a smirk of my own crossing my lips.

"I still think you should get a membership at the boxing gym in Norfolk." Pops bluntly told me as his eyes darted between me and the highway, we were hauling ass on.

"I'll think about it."

"Don't think, do, girl."

*Meanwhile Back In Bensonhurst…*

Brock POV:

I felt both torn and nervous about what I was doing. On one hand it was about time that I saw Gem face to face, but on the other time with my deep undercover SHIELDRA agent work it was risky. I could be putting her at risk, but we needed to meet since it's the only way she'll get rid of that fucker she's seeing. I let out a shaking breath as I sat on the subway, waiting for my Bensonhurst stop. I was hoping that my surprise would make Gem happy; get Pops off my back too.

When my stop was announced on the intercom, I perked up. As soon as the train came to a stop, I stood up and rushed off. The faster I walked home, the sooner I could see my soulmate and fix whatever was broken between us. Between Darcy's snarky emails and Billy's annoying phone calls (Yea, Darcy gave him my number and he tormented me about my soulmate problems any chance he could get over the last couple of days. That was fun while I was on my mission.) I was given the push to make things right with Gem.

After walking a good 20-blocks, I reached Pops' place. His car wasn't in the driveway, so I'm assuming he's at the gym or out getting food. Hopefully Gem's inside instead of being with him. Quickly, I made my way up the porch steps and up to the front door. Using my key, that I never got rid of, I let myself in. Closing the door behind me, I called out, "Gem, baby, you here?"

I was met with radio silence. So, I'm assuming she's out with Pops. Setting my bag by the door, I took off my jacket and hung it up while mentally reaching out to my soulmate with the simple question of, "You with Pops, baby?"

"Yea, I'm with Pops. He's taking me back to Willowdale." Gem answered me as I made my way over to the couch.

"What? You're already on your way back? Why?" I asked while flipping down on the couch.

"Why? Cause I got class tomorrow, that's why." Gem dryly told me as I reached over and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.

"It's not even noon yet and you're on your way to Virginia? Are you nuts? I told you I'd be coming over after my mission wrapped up." I grumbled while turning on the tv and surfing thru the channels; looking for something to watch.

"No, you said you'd try to drop by if it wrapped up, not that you were without a doubt coming to Bensonhusrt, Brock. Damn, don't be upset with me that I asked Pops to give me a ride home cause I can't count on you to show up, meet me, and take me back to Virginia with you."

"Gem, you can count on me. Baby, I'm sitting on my Pops couch cause I wanted to see you; make things up to you and fix whatever's wrong between us."

"Nothing's wrong between us, Brock. We're going to be spending Christmas together and getting a tattoo. If something was wrong, I wouldn't have agreed to that."

I let out a dark chuckle of disbelief. "So, guess I missed you by a couple of hours, huh? Knowing Pops you haven't been gone that long, but he's driving like he's in the fucking Daytona 500."

"Yea, you're right about that." Gem sadly sighed thru our bond.

"Guess I'll just see you for Christmas." I told her, knowing that our Thanksgiving meeting was a complete bust.

"Guess so, honey." She replied softly. I could feel her smile thru our bond and I couldn't help, but to smile right back.

Christmas can't come fast enough. Only a few more weeks and then I'll be face to face with my girl; making things right with her. Bet I'll be getting a 'good job' email from Darcy soon enough too.

AN:

And of course, another almost meeting. Sorry, but not sorry. I just can't resist the angst of these two being so close to meeting, but something being in the way. Oh, who think's Blane's days are numbered? Anyone? So, do you guys think the Christmas meeting will go to plan or will Pierce and HYDRA get in the way? Anyways, hope you guys liked this.