"Good Morning"

Phyllis 'Phyl' Coulson was the youngest senior agent at SHIELD, although not by much. In her mid-thirties, she strode around the hall, well aware of many higher than her, but also aware that she was now level seven… and she and Director Fury were the only ones who knew.

Rounding the corner, she saw Him from a distance. The man who tied her tongue in knots, scrambled her brain, and made her simultaneously grateful that she only saw him once a week, and sad that she didn't see him more often than that. He was always well put-together, pressed slacks, crisp shirt, straight tie and formal jacket. He wasn't her type – she tended to drool over bad boys in leather, which is why she didn't date – and she wouldn't have noticed him if it wasn't for his boots.

Boots. Not polished shoes, but actual boots. The rough workman kind, good for climbing mountains, climbing ropes, running on any surface, riding a horse, riding…

And that was where her brain would short out. She knew she was in trouble. The rest of him screamed pencil-pushing, level gazillion SHIELD agent, who could disarm you with a single look but could blend into the background easily. Phyl knew. She had that reputation herself. But at least her practical shoes were discreet. These were out-there, clashes-with-the-rest-of-the-outfit boots, and she desperately wanted to know the man who wore them.

But she couldn't even squeak out two words to him, and he certainly never spoke to her. Looked her over, probably assessing her threat level, and then returned to his taciturn self while she berated herself for losing her head over an agent more senior than her.

So she would smile and nod when she saw him, and he would nod back. That was their thing. She never would've dared if he had someone with him, but he was always alone. And she could never look away from his face (or his boots) long enough to check out the ID badge attached to his jacket. In other words, Phyl was crushing on a man who probably wasn't her soulmate, was gorgeous as sin, a complete mystery… and she didn't have a clue who he was.

Still. Maybe with her super-duper new level seven clearance, she could find out?

It wasn't the first time an elevator had broken down at SHIELD – even Stark tech wasn't infallible – but it was the first time she'd actually been in the same space as her mystery man, standing still, and the silence was stretching out. The tech department always received a notification when there was a breakdown; there was a button to press if someone was actually in the elevator, to make it priority. If there was a serious problem, there would be an announcement.

They waited, the man stock still, and Phyl leaning against the back wall, her arms crossed, and trying to stop her eyes from wandering below the waist. The cut of his suit couldn't hide the muscles of his arms, and he was obviously very trim. He had dark hair, falling just above his ears, and he had crystal blue eyes. Well, something blue. She'd never been any good at art. If it wasn't Captain America blue, she had no idea.

He was barely moving, and she wondered whether he was nervous. SHIELD didn't recruit people who had claustrophobia, and high level agents had to learn how to avoid developing any phobias at all.

Even if he was a junior – which she doubted, not in those clothes, and he had to be in his forties – it would be terribly improper to ask whether he had a problem with broken down elevators. She supposed, if she thought about it, there were many different ways things could go wrong…

That was a road she wasn't about to go down. Not while she was still in an unmoving elevator.

Finally, with a mild jerk, they began to rise. At the next level they both hopped out (health and safety protocol), and Phyl smiled at her… no, not her, the mystery man. She began to walk away, when she felt a hand with a steel grip latch onto her arm. Eyes widening, she was about to throw him off when he dragged her around the corner and out of sight of any security cameras.

He could try to kill her, but she wasn't going to go down without a f—

Mystery Man kissed her.

No, scratch that. Not 'kissed'. That was too mild a term. He dived into her, cupping her face with one hand and her lower back with the other, stealing her breath away with each second. He nibbled her lips, explored every inch with his tongue, and it honestly felt like he was making love to her mouth. She had to clutch onto his shoulders for dear life, knowing – without a doubt – that if she didn't hang on, her legs would go completely from under her.

She knew there was a reason he wore those boots. This guy was in no way boring. He was a leather-clad bad boy at heart, and that was… really not good.

She whimpered when he pulled away. He steadied her against the wall, and she laughed as her legs trembled. He chuckled lowly, and she looked up into his eyes.

Oh, if only he was her soulmate. But she couldn't be that lucky.

Before she could drum up words to say – like 'More, please' or 'Oh God, do that again' or even 'Let's find a room' – he half-smiled, and strode off to the stairwell. That half-smile was possibly the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

(Phyl bet to herself that he'd look even better smiling properly, and better still in bed, after a round or five of… Not the time.)

And that kiss… She felt like she'd done twenty minutes on the treadmill at high speed, only much happier, from her head to her toes.

Managing to scrape herself off the wall, Phyl tottered over to the stairs. The cool air cleared her head, and she walked down a floor… before she remembered that she was supposed to be going up.

The Asset had an official name for his identification badge and papers, in case anyone questioned him. He was officially level eight, but he knew no more than he was told for a mission, and to find his way around the base.

His masters allowed him out only after twelve o'clock midday. He took the same route to his destination to see whether anything had changed, and then a different way back to his room to vary the routine. He once heard the word 'reset' in relation to him, and he knew why. He was not allowed to know details of the missions he had completed, in case he was compromised, so they were blurred from his memory.

Ordinary humans had knowledge of their history. The Asset was not an ordinary human, and he had no past. He was created by better men. The only sign that he was human was the tattoo on the palm of his right hand. He had read books; he knew that they were the first words to be spoken to him by the other half of his soul. The true love of fairytales. He could not understand why love was so important.

Attraction he could understand. He felt attraction readily enough for the one person who would not leave his mind. No matter how many times missions were erased from his memory, he never forgot the woman with the brown hair, grey-blue eyes, and sensible clothes. She did not wear the skin-tight clothing of most female agents. She wore a dress suit, with a skirt going to below the knees with suspicious seams up the sides. No doubt the skirt could be torn at a moment's notice to engage in fighting.

The thought of tearing that skirt – and the rest of her clothes – to pieces by himself, gave him a strange feeling. He knew from reading, and from watching programs while he was on missions and giving the impression of being an ordinary human, that such feelings precluded kissing.

When the elevator froze, The Asset kept still. He had to remind himself that he was not being put to rest this time.

Her scent filled the air. He had keen senses, and it tantalised his nostrils. He had memorised each of her smiles; they kept him going while away on missions; they stayed part of him even when his masters put him in the machine.

He wanted a taste of her. The minute they were out of the box, he pulled her to where he knew there were no cameras, and took his fill. She was soft, warm, beautiful, and she made the most wonderful noises while he kissed her. He relied on instinct, and on what felt good to him. If The Asset had a past, kissing must have been part of it. He did not mind forgetting it; he only wanted to remember this woman.

He could not speak to her. He was trained not to speak until spoken to. As she did not say anything to him, he could not respond. And what would he say? He was not an ordinary human; he was HYDRA's asset, and this woman was a stranger, so she was unlikely to be HYDRA. A pity, and that he did not know her name. Her identification badge hung from her blouse, but until there was reason for him to read it, he could not. If he knew her name, he could ask to meet her.

And so The Asset went about his business, going to bed that night with a smile on his face for the very first time.

Tired. So tired. Phyl had gotten a refill of coffee for her flask, taking small sips to keep herself awake on the way to debriefing. Fury knew that she was dangerous to go through a debrief without caffeine, and she was always given five minutes to get a drink before the meeting.

Today was the first day she'd seen her mystery man since he gave her that bone-melting kiss. She lowered her flask, and smiled nervously at him.

"Good morning," she said. Another first; the first time she'd spoken to him. He blinked at her.

"I think you'll find it's afternoon," he said. She groaned, and looked at her watch.

"I'm sorry," she said. "My mind and my body are in different time zones…" She trailed off and touched her stomach, where his words had been tattooed since she was born. She looked up at him, and saw his eyes widening. "Oh."

"This," he said, pulling off a glove. Phyl had dismissed his gloves as a quirk; now it made sense, as she saw what was printed there. 'Good morning'.

"My writing," she said, her heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl. She smiled.

"You are my soulmate," he said. His accent was hard to pin down, now she thought about it. Euro-American?

"Looks like it," she said. Shyly, she pulled up the middle of her shirt and showed him the words, the ones he'd said to her.

"I think… yes, that's my writing," he said, tracing the words with his right index finger. It tickled.

"You think?" she asked.

"I do not write much."

"But that's definitely my handwriting," Phyl said, lowering her shirt. "What's your name?" He looked at her. Was he as knocked off-course as she was? "Sorry, we haven't been introduced. I'm Phyllis Coulson." She indicated her badge. "Most people call me Phyl. Let's see, since you're tongue-tied. Must say, you have that effect on me. It's nice to see the situations reversed." She fingered his ID badge. "Nathaniel Jones. Nice to meet you—"

"No."

Her stomach dropped. "What?"

"No," he repeated. "That's not… not…"

"Nathaniel? Or do you prefer N—"

"Come," he said, pulling on her arm. Phyl barely noticed dropping her coffee flask, as she tried to keep up with his long strides.

"Where are we going?"

"Don't speak!" he hissed, and his eyes darted around. "They could be listening."

"Who—"

"Them!"

She couldn't catch her breath to continue interrogating him. Her soulmate.

Well, she got what she wished for. Now she was seriously questioning her judgement.

They made it to the basement, and he pulled her into the shadows.

"Can you drive?" he asked.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Choose a car."

"I have mine—"

"Not yours. One which cannot be found."

She stared at him. "Tell me why."

"Phyllis—"

"Phyl, and tell me why. If you can give me a good reason, I'll do whatever you ask me to. But not just because you're my soulmate."

He bit his lower lip until it was bleeding. Phyl felt compassion blooming inside, and she pulled a small packet of tissues out of her bag. It was compact, and strapped to her body to restrict its movement. She removed one tissue, stuffed the rest back into her bag, and then dabbed the blood away from her soulmate's mouth. He looked anguished, and she was on the brink of agreeing to whatever he wanted just to get that look off his face, when he replied.

"It is not my name," he said. She tilted her head, and wiped off the rest of the blood.

"You're not Nathaniel Jones?" she clarified.

"Correct."

"Then what is your name?"

He pursed his lips, causing more blood to pool. She tutted, and wiped it away.

"I do not know," he said. "I am called The Asset. It is one of my names. But I must get you away. Something is wrong. You are safer with me – and away from here – than anywhere else, Phyllis."

"Please call me Phyl."

"Phyl." He stroked her short hair back behind her ear. "Sweet Phyl."

Flustered, she went to stuff the bloodied tissue away when he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. It wasn't as intense as last time, but Phyl dropped the tissue and grasped her soulmate's upper arms. One felt harder than the other, and she considered asking why. But right now, he said they needed to go, so they would go. Phyl trusted very few people at SHIELD implicitly, and if she couldn't trust her soulmate, then who could she trust? Even though he had no name… but there must have been a reason, and she wasn't finding out what it was just standing around, arguing.

"This way," she muttered, this time the one to tug him where she wanted to go. It was her second least favourite car in the SHIELD fleet, modern, definitely not a classic, and it fit in pretty much anywhere. She stole some of the rarely-used interchangeable plates, beat-up ones which were only used in absolutely emergencies. They were unrecorded, and there were hundreds. She took a spare first aid kit and a spare tool kit, both from near the back of the rows, and threw them in the back of the car. She slid into the driver's seat, glanced at her nameless soulmate – The Asset? – and then started up the car.

"Keep driving," he said. "Do you have a safe-house, something no one knows about?"

"I know a place."

"We must go underground."

"I presume you don't mean the subway."

"The subway?" He frowned. "I do not think so."

"I need to go back to my apart—"

"Too dangerous. We must keep moving."

"But I—"

"Do you have cash?"

"Yes."

"I do not. I have nothing but the clothing I am given."

Phyl shook her head. "What's wrong? There's something. Tell me."

"I am no one. Sometimes I am called the Winter Soldier—"

She'd heard that name. "The assassin?"

"I do what I am told."

"Who? Who tells you?" she demanded.

"HYDRA."

Her chest heaved with panicked breaths.

"My soulmate is HYDRA," she said. "My soulmate is HYDRA. My soulmate is Captain America's enemy."

His head snapped around took look at her. "Captain America?"

"Yes. He's a hero. I've read all of the comic books—"

"I know that name."

"Right. You've heard of the captain, but not the subway."

"I know that name."

She had no idea what the difference was, but clearly there was a difference to him, so she tried to ignore her feelings of foreboding. She failed epically.

"You're HYDRA," she said.

"They tell me what to do. They do not let me remember details of my missions. There is a machine… and they put me in a box. A box of water."

"Water-boarding?"

"It is cold."

Phyl ran through the possibilities in her mind, letting muscle memory take her to the nearest ATM.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes," she said, unlocking the door. His hand nearly crushed her wrist as he grabbed hold.

"Where are you going?" he asked sharply. She nearly rolled her eyes, and pointed.

"That's an automatic teller machine," she said. "I'm going to withdraw more money from it. I get the feeling we're going to need it, and I don't want to leave an electronic paper trail if I can help it. I can't believe I'm putting my trust in someone who works for HYDRA."

By the time she finished, she had an uneasy idea of what might have been done to her soulmate.

"Tell me," she said, turning the car in the opposite direction as soon as she could. She scrambled the surrounding security footage as soon as they stopped at red lights. "The box. Is the water already cold when you get in?"

"No," he said. "It gets cold. Frozen."

"Cryo," she whispered, horrified. "The machine… does it do things to your head?"

"Yes."

"Brainwashing." Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them back. Now was not the time to be a little girl. She was a level seven SHIELD agent, best friends with Nicholas Fury and Captain America's biggest fan.

"They 'reset' me."

"Oh my God…" She shook her head again. "I'm so sorry."

In close proximity, she could sense their feelings meeting. He was telling the truth, what he knew as the truth. Soulmates couldn't hide their feelings from each other. If they bonded – and she sort of hoped they would – they could communicate telepathically over long distances, or so she'd heard.

"I do not know what it means to be a soulmate," he said. "Only what I have read."

"You'll remember," she said determinedly. "I'll help you. We'll do whatever it takes to find out who you are."

The Asset began to remember small details. He was American; he recognised streets as they drove through them, creating a confusing trail for SHIELD and HYDRA. Phyl nearly crashed the car when he told her that HYDRA was part of SHIELD, and it took a great deal of persuading to stop her from calling the director.

"He's been my best friend for years," she said. He felt extreme jealousy when she said that, but tamped it down. It was irrelevant at this moment.

"And you thought you trusted the people there," he said. "How many HYDRA agents are people you consider good friends?"

"I… I don't know."

"Precisely."

They drove. Phyl procured clothes for them from second-hand stores. He watched her while she changed in the back of the car. The blush that travelled from her cheeks and down her chest when she noticed him intensified the longing he felt for her.

After changing the appearance of the car a few times, they reached their destination. They had long since discarded his badge and Phyl's, leaving them behind at SHIELD after using a device to cloak any trackers on them. It was only a temporary measure; but without his memory, he had no idea what HYDRA might have planted on him, and he would not put Phyl in unnecessary danger. Or necessary danger, no matter how well she could handle herself.

"Here," he said, taking the spare bags from her hands. She led him into the small house in the suburbs. He looked around.

"It was my parents'," she said. "SHIELD doesn't know about it. It's a part of my life I keep private. I… I had a happy childhood, and SHIELD isn't always a happy place, so I separate them. The official story is that we're from Boston. Even Nick believes that, and he knows nearly everything about me."

"Not everything, I hope," The Asset said. Phyl's eyes widened.

"Good God, no!" she said. "I waited for my soulmate… for you. It's part of why I couldn't speak to you for so long. No idea what to say." She flushed a deeper red, and he touched her face. "I can be so confident in anything else, but not romance. I wanted to wait, so I did. Nick… he found his soulmate early on, though he won't tell me about whoever it is. Part of the reason I can justify not telling him everything about myself; we're both allowed to keep at least one secret from each other. But…" She looked around, unsure, and stepped closer to him. "This is a huge secret. Not your identity… not until we know what that really is, who you were. Are."

"Were," he agreed.

She sighed. "But that HYDRA has been part of SHIELD for who knows how long? Nick could be in danger. My friends could be in danger."

"Are in danger. Any SHIELD agents who have died… I might have been responsible for some of them, but many were organised by HYDRA. Be thankful that you never crossed them. Until now."

"Why until now?"

He swallowed, and sat beside her on the sofa.

"I have remembered more," he said. "When you said 'Good morning', something inside of me screamed, but I forced myself to ignore it. Now I remember. It was a voice saying 'Kill'." Phyl covered her mouth with a hand. "I believe that I was programmed to eliminate anyone who said my soulmate words to me. HYDRA wants you dead so they can control me. I'm… I am sure of it."

Phyl buried her face in his shoulder. "Why didn't you? If you were programmed, surely—"

"Because I wanted you alive. Because you are my soulmate. Because I had done it to three other people, which…" He shook his head, frustrated and angered by the memories creeping to the forefront of his mind. "Which is why I was only allowed out in the afternoon. I never interacted with people in the morning, except on the few occasions when I was on an overnight mission."

"They didn't want you to be happy."

"Things are not allowed to have feelings. Ordinary people are."

"You're not ordinary," Phyl said gently. "You're extraordinary." She poked his left arm. "Why is this so much harder?"

"I have something else there."

"…Can I see it?"

The Asset still did not know his name. But he knew that she would hate the sight of what he was about to reveal.

"This is why I am not an ordinary human," he said, peeling off his shirt and removing his glove. Phyl stared at the robotic limb. "I am not whole."

She touched the metal arm gingerly, then more firmly. She pulled her hand back when she touched where it joined the skin and he flinched away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I hurt you."

"It is an old wound," he said. "It feels strange."

"I won't do it again. But may I…?"

He nodded, and she ran a hand up his stomach and chest. Her cheeks were still pink, and she smiled shyly when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nice," she said. "Very nice."

"Not as impressive as Steve, but…"

He trailed off, and she cocked her head. "Steve? Who's Steve?"

"I… I do not know. I must have known him."

"A friend?"

"Possibly."

She rubbed up and down his flesh arm. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

They didn't share a bed. He was insistent on that point, which was charming, and it meant a lot to Phyl, after what she had confessed to him about her inexperience. Perhaps that was why he was so determined to take the guest room? If he was getting over HYDRA brainwashing, it was probably safest to stay apart. And she wanted to know his name before she let him take her to bed.

She didn't have any clothes at her parent's house, which was annoying. The only reason she hadn't let it yet was because she had been so busy. Ridiculous, yes; she could have been earning money by renting it, or even selling. But there was only so much paperwork she wanted floating around in the system. If she was to keep this secret even from Nick, she couldn't risk letting her name be seen on any paperwork. Remarkable foresight on her part.

Besides, the house was private, well-insulated, set apart from others, and had nice memories. There wasn't a great deal beyond basic furniture throughout the house, and a couple of dozen boxes in the attic. She could dig around in them, but there wouldn't be much of any use. Better to keep it tucked away. And he didn't need to see that she didn't play with girly dolls when she was a child, but with Captain America and Howling Commando figurines.

"All right," she said, curling up beside him on the sofa. "We need a plan."

"A plan?" he said. It had been a long day, with a great deal of running around; yet somehow he still looked unruffled. It was distinctly unfair, Phyl thought, considering she probably looked like she'd been pulled through a hedge backwards. She hadn't had time for a shower or a change of clothes yet.

"Yes," she said. "To get your memory back, and somehow let SHIELD know that it's been compromised. I know I can trust Nick. You at least have to let me tell him that I'm alive, and not being held against my will."

"I could," he said, looking down at his hands. She was making him forgo the gloves; what could he hide now? "Very easily hold you against your will. I could do anything. But I will not, because I take care of what is mine. You are all I have." His voice went soft towards the end, and Phyl shifted closer to him.

"We belong to each other," she said, her eyes drifting closed. "Now, what we should do fir…"

But it had been an even longer day for Phyl. She was exhausted, and gave up the struggle to stay awake.

Nick Fury was pissed off beyond belief as he paced back and forth in the labs.

He'd gone searching for Phyl when she took longer than normal to return with her coffee. He knew the route she would most likely take, and it terrified the hell out of him when he saw the flask on the floor, coffee spilled everywhere, and no Phyl. She didn't answer her phone, and it wasn't in the vicinity. He hacked the security footage immediately, and saw an unfamiliar agent pulling her through the building, down towards the parking lot. There, he found a bloodied tissue, and was having it analysed right now.

There were many cars gone. Phyl's three favourite cars were still there; if she'd been coerced, she would have chosen one of them as a way of letting Nick know. Either she had been kidnapped, or left of her own volition with the stranger.

Nick had never seen him before.

Why would Phyl allow a stranger to drag her away? She could've fought him off; his best friend was a hellcat like that. Unless the stranger was enhanced?

"Sir?" one of the scientists said. "We ran the test, but there's something strange about the blood. It can't be Agent Coulson's."

"How long will it take to find out who it belongs to?"

"If we work hard at it and use the best tech available? Could manage it in half a day, if we're lucky."

"Get to it," Nick said. "And you." He pointed at a technician. "Keep running facial recognition. I wanna know exactly who's taken one of my best agents."

If Phyl had gone against her will, and was playing the weak damsel, chances are she'd be back by the evening, or at least contact him. Damn it, she knew he would worry about her until then. What the hell was taking her so long?

Eventually, The Asset conceded that Phyl needed to tell her friend that she was alive, as he probably already assumed the worst. She sent an encrypted message, before switching off her phone again to preserve battery and turning to him.

"We need food," she said.

"I cannot let you go out without me," he replied firmly.

"Sweet—"

"Do not call me that. I would rather know my name."

"All right," she said. "Get dressed, and we'll go to the shops. They're within easy walking distance."

They had stowed the car in the garage. There were no security cameras in the residential streets, so once they passed the shops they could have gone anywhere. Phyl had stopped scrambling the CCTV once they left the city, knowing it would leave a trail. If the shops were a walk away, there was no need to take the car out, which was good.

Phyl came back downstairs with a bag on wheels.

"It's a personal shopping trolley," she said. "It belonged to my mother. I found it in the attic."

"I will carry things," he said.

"Yes, but this will hold a lot as well. If we want to stay in as much as possible… and I'm starving after yesterday. I don't think I've had anything to eat since before I got back from the mission."

The Asset berated himself. He was supposed to look after his soulmate, not starve her.

"Also," she continued, her eyes cast to the floor, "when we get back… maybe we should bond?"

"Why?"

"I'll understand if you don't want to," she said as her cheeks turned pink. "I know I'm not much… but—"

"You are lovely," he said, cupping her elbows. Her eyes met his.

"If you really think we're in danger, then it's for the best," she said. "We can find each other, read each other's thoughts. Maybe it will help you remember who you are?"

"Or maybe it will affect you adversely," he pointed out. "We cannot know."

"No. But if you don't mind bonding with me—"

"Not until I at least remember who I am. You shouldn't bond with someone nameless."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Very well," she said.

Relieved that she saw the sense in what he said, The Asset followed her out the door, on alert for potential predators.

Phyl always stopped by the comic shop when she was in the area. Her soulmate wouldn't let her go in by herself, so he trailed her with bags from the pharmacy and clothing stores in his hands. Phyl pulled the trolley behind her as she went straight for the area with the comic books.

"Sixtieth anniversary," she said. "I've been so busy, I can't believe I missed it."

"Anniversary of what?" he asked.

"Among other things, the end of the war. But also the anniversaries of two of my heroes dying to protect their country." She sighed, knowing that she probably had a dreamy smile on her face. Her soulmate would have to get used to her childhood crushes on Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. She picked up the anniversary book, and made a note to come back and buy more things once the danger had passed and she could use her bank cards again. But this would do for now. It would be the perfect introduction to her obsession. Her soulmate seemed to have been living under a rock, thanks to HYDRA. He probably had no idea who Captain America… but no. He'd recognised the name.

"Are you ready?" he asked as she paid. Phyl thanked the old man who'd run the store since her childhood, and then nodded as she preceded her soulmate out the door.

"Let's go home," she said. Silly to call it home when he might still object to bonding with her. She wished they could marry officially, but in the eyes of the world soul bonding was as good as a wedding, and far more traditional. Weddings were formalities, a prelude to bonding. They didn't mean as much in a world where people lived together first, built their own lives without assistance from others. She wasn't all that keen on the security risk either, to tell the truth.

Not to mention the paper trail. She would just have to try to be more convincing. With any luck, the lingerie she had purchased would serve more than just a practical use.

Back at the house, they performed a perimeter check, reluctantly parting to tackle it faster. Satisfied, they entered the house. Her soulmate checked every room while Phyl unpacked in the kitchen. The frozen things were all right in their insulated bags, but she put them away first to be on the safe side. It felt like an age before he returned to her side, and poked at the few things she had left to unload into the pantry.

"Would you like help finding the recipe books?" he asked. Phyl had told him that there were cookbooks upstairs, ones she had copied from.

"That would be great, thank you," she said.

He smiled as Phyl railed to herself for the fifth time about the fact that she had not labelled the boxes before shoving them into the attic.

"Don't know how I would've sorted through them if I tried to donate stuff," she grumbled. She glanced at him, flushed with embarrassment. "I'm not usually this disorganised or scatter-brained. You really haven't seen me at my best. I was always too tongue-tied to speak to you. If I wasn't so tired yesterday…"

He reached out and clasped her hand briefly. "I am glad you did."

She beamed, and it could have lit the entire room if there were not already lights. They both returned to cutting through the tape on the boxes. He paused, and pulled out several books with that same shield on the front, the one he'd seen on the book Phyl bought today. There were trinkets as well.

"What are these?" he asked, poking through them. Phyl gasped, and hurried to his side.

"Oh my God, how humiliating," she muttered. "You found my toys."

"Toys?" He pulled out a soldier doll, and raised his eyes. "From when you were a child?"

"Yes." She groaned as she pulled some of them out. "I could never let them go. They wouldn't be worth anything as collectibles, but these guys… they inspired me to become who I am. Someone to fight against the bullies of the world. Although I doubt Captain America would necessarily approve of the way SHIELD works. And… and HYDRA was part of us all along." She bowed her head. He could feel her sorrow, and tilted her head up.

"You are in no way like those bastards," he said. "Never forget that."

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed through her nose.

"Thank you," she said. "It's terrible, knowing that they were right under my nose the whole time."

"I like your nose," he said, stroking along it with his metal thumb. She didn't blink; just smiled behind his hand.

"You're sweet," she said. "And… and you've seen my toys." She sat back on her heels, breaking the moment. "Well, it's not too bad. Aside from the fact that I have a bit of a crush on the men they're based on."

"A crush?"

"They're my idols."

"Hmph."

"Aw, don't be jealous." She nudged him, picking up one of the books. "This is supposed to be the most accurate story about the Captain and the Howling Commandoes. I adore them – they were so brave – but my favourites are Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Captain America and his best friend. I don't know, but I've always been more drawn towards Bucky… Hey. What's wrong?"

He realised that he was staring into space, and looked down at her when she poked him.

"Bucky?" he said. "Who is Bucky?"

"You… you know the name Captain America but you don't know James Buchanan Barnes?"

The Asset stood and walked to the other side of the attic. He heard Phyl coming after him, and tried not to flinch at her touch.

"Please tell me what's wrong," she said. "Let me help."

He shook his head. "Something is there. Something… Damn it!" He scrunched his hands in his hair, and noticed Phyl take a step back. "Why does it feel familiar? Why does it feel cold when I think about them? Why… why do I feel like I was there?"

"I… I don't know why," Phyl said. "Cold?"

"Falling. I dream about falling and the cold. Last night it felt clearer than ever. I thought I heard someone call a name, and I went to your bedroom to check on you, but you were still asleep."

"I think I felt you near. I dreamt about you last night. Never…" She blushed. "Never had… that kind of dream before."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "It feels… Why do I know their names?"

"Well, I know what happened to most of the Howling Commandoes," Phyl said. "And to Captain America. He went down in a plane saving the world. But he was blond, and you're…"

Her eyes widened as she trailed off. In a movement which almost sent him reeling, she bolted back to the box and picked up the book she had shown him. She flipped through the pages frantically, until she came to a stop. The moment she fell to her knees, he ran forward. She sobbed once, and he pulled her close. He never wanted to see her cry.

"What is it?" he asked as she shook. "Phyl?"

"Bucky," she whispered. "You're… you look like…"

She showed him the page. There was a photograph of a group of men. One held the shield – Captain America? – and the others must have been the Howling Commandoes Phyl had told him about. And the man standing next to Steve…

"Is it you?" Phyl asked softly, her mouth pressed against his neck. "You could be him, about a decade or so older. If you've been in and out of cryopreservation, that would explain why you look so young. Physiologically…"

"Yes," he said, his throat thick. It felt like he was watching the scene from a distance as he pulled Phyl closer against his side. "Do you have… any other pictures?"

"There are some. Here." She picked up one of the dolls, and held it up to him. "This is my Bucky Barnes doll."

"Pictures."

"Of… of course. Maybe the new book has them? I don't know where my other Captain America biographies would be…" She looked around, shrugging at the mess of boxes. He shook his head.

"You wanted to help me," he said. "This is how you can. We must find another picture."

There were excellent photographs in the sixtieth anniversary book. Sixty years since Bucky Barnes disappeared. Had he been at SHIELD the whole time, under HYDRA's thumb? God, she couldn't imagine it. But from the little he'd told her – that he was American, that he was a sniper, that he remembered cold and falling – it was entirely possible. She showed him the best picture, and then held it beside his face.

"If only it was in colour," she said. "But… no. It's uncanny. Unless he had a son…"

"No. I think… I'm him."

He seemed so helpless. Phyl took him by the arm.

"Go to bed," she told him. "Rest your body, and your mind will follow. Then you might remember more."

"Stay with me," he said quietly. "Not in bed; I could hurt you. But if you stay down here while I am up there, possibly unaware of the rest of the world… that would be just the time for HYDRA to strike."

"Yes, if life was like a movie." He frowned, but she saw the vulnerability there. Rather than make him beg, she nodded. "All right. I'll stay with you. There's an armchair in there. I'll bring my new book."

When it reached one o'clock, Phyl considered going downstairs to make lunch, but her soulmate… Bucky Barnes? He was right; it would be just their luck if HYDRA found them while they were separated inside the same building, before they had a chance to bond. She considered waking him out of his daze. Chances are, he ate erratically. He picked at his food this morning, and she'd had difficulty getting him to choose what he wanted to eat. If this really was all true… she had a long, difficult job ahead of her.

By dinner time, Phyl was starving, and worried about her soulmate. He was clearly going through some anguished memories, and it hurt her heart every time he whimpered or cried or begged for mercy, not to lose his memories, not to lose Steve, to lose Phyl…

She held his flesh hand, and found that its grip was as tight as steel. She stayed by his side, ignoring his order to keep away from the bed. When he woke, it was dark outside, and the room was lit only by the bedside lamp. Once he began to cling on to her hand like a lifeline, he hadn't let go, limiting her movements.

"Phyl?" he rasped.

"I'm here."

"You… you shouldn't… you shouldn't be so close…"

"I couldn't let you do this on your own," she said, lying beside him now that he was back in reality. "I'm your soulmate."

"I could've hurt you." He noticed his grip and let go. "I did hurt you. Shit." He picked up her hand, which was purpling where his fingers had clamped down. Gently, he massaged it until Phyl was no longer wincing. He kissed the back of her hand, and she smiled.

"Thank you," she said softly. He shook his head.

"I'm dangerous," he said.

"I know that. I knew that the minute you dragged me down to the garage at SHIELD."

"Why would you trust me like that?"

"Because… you're my soulmate."

He snorted, and sat up, still lightly stroking her injured hand. "You shouldn't put such faith in that. Look at what I did to you. I'm as bad as one of those men who beat their wives."

"No!" she said, sitting up and holding him from behind. "You didn't know what you were doing. If I thought I couldn't handle it, I would've put a stop to it. I'm not some helpless maiden who always needs rescuing, or needs a reality check so she can get herself out of a bad situation. I'm a level seven agent of SHIELD, and you're my soulmate. I should be terrified, but I'm not."

He turned his head halfway.

"I am Bucky Barnes, you know," he said. She nodded.

"I figured as much, from what you were saying when you…"

"When I was recalibrating myself."

"Something like that."

He nodded. "I was born decades before you, Phyl."

"I've read your story a hundred times. I know you're probably not the same man you were before—"

"Definitely not."

"But… I'd like to get to know the man you are now." She rested her head on his shoulder. "The man who walks around SHIELD in a formal suit and combat boots." She chuckled. "I knew you were a bad boy at heart. Have you worn much leather?"

"You like that?" he asked, smirking at her. She shivered.

"Very much," she admitted.

"I did wear leather as the Winter Soldier, but not so much before that. Whatever we could get hold of, really. Then I joined up, and it was a uniform after that."

"Mmm, I think you'd look handsome in a uniform. More handsome than you already are, that is."

He ducked his head, cheeks turning a little pink. Phyl felt a surge of power, that she could make him do that. She'd read that he was a real charmer. There was still a spark of that. Maybe she was bringing it out? But there was something important to do…

Then her stomach gurgled. Bucky glanced at her, and she let go of him.

"Missed lunch," she said. "Want dinner now?"

"Yeah," he said, looking her up and down. "You said something before about bonding, so we never lose track of each other. Did you mean that?" She nodded shyly. "Then you'll definitely need your energy."

The implications made her head spin.

Bucky was glad to have his memories back. Glad and horrified. Unfortunately, he could also remember every hit he'd ever made for HYDRA.

Including the three times he killed someone for saying 'Good morning' to him. Crushing their throats with the hand bearing those words. It made him feel sick. The thought that he could have killed his soulmate, killed Phyl…

But he didn't. Maybe it was because he already wanted her, maybe it was because she was his real soulmate. Whatever it was, it saved her.

"I'll bond with you, when you're ready," he told her after dinner. They'd finished doing the dishes by hand, and Phyl was putting away the placemats while Bucky stowed the coasters where he was shown. She paused, and looked over at him.

"You really do want to bond with me?" she said. "We don't have to… it's just for practical purposes… but if you want a platonic—"

He swooped over, backed her up against the cupboard, and kissed her. He wasn't going to let her spout any more nonsense about not wanting her. He'd never wanted anything more than to join with her. If he hadn't shown her that with their first kiss, he didn't know what else to do that would convince her to cast aside any insecurities and just… just let him show her how much he loved…

He loved her.

"I love you," he murmured against her lips. "Phyl, let me take you to bed. Not tonight, if you're not ready. But as soon as you snap your fingers, I'm gonna come running."

She stared up at him, smiling deliriously. "I love you, too. I'd… I'd like to shower first, and brush my teeth. And we should maybe watch the news, and I need to check my phone, see if Nick's sent a reply. But after all that… yeah. Yes. Please bond with me."

"In every sense of the word?"

She licked her lips. "Yes," she said.

"Your voice is trembling. You're trembling."

"N-not for the reason you think. Well, partly nerves, but mainly…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Anticipation?"

"That's an understatement."

"Well." He gave her the Bucky Barnes Smile that always made the girls swoon. Given Phyl's reaction, he still had it. "I can work with that."

She snuggled back into his warmth as he held her afterwards. There was a definite ache and stickiness between her legs. She'd bought medical supplies so that they could cut out their trackers eventually. If she wasn't a field agent, she might've been tempted to remove her contraceptive implant as well, but as long as she was a working SHIELD agent risking her life to make the world a better place, she wasn't going to allow herself to fall pregnant. Not even when Bucky – or James, as she called him at his request – had put his hand on her belly to seal the bond, and made some remark about cradling a baby bump from behind. She'd punched him on the arm for that. (Unfortunately, because she was right-handed, she hit the metal one. Good thing it was her uninjured hand.)

Bucky snuffled into the back of her neck, and she nearly giggled like a schoolgirl at the ticklish feeling. SHIELD agents did not giggle like schoolgirls over that.

James Barnes, the man she'd had a crush on since she was thirteen, who she'd later had a crush on when she thought he was just another agent, was her soulmate. It was hard to believe. Until he beamed that smile she'd seen in a few photos and video footage, the one that made her feel weak in the knees. Waves of affection kept crashing over her whenever she thought of him, and his adoring presence in her mind was comforting.

"Glad to hear it," he mumbled into her skin. "Now get to sleep, Phyl. We've got an enemy organisation to bring down, and we're not gonna do it on an hour of sleep."

"You get to sleep," she said, tugging his arm closer over her body. He chuckled.

"Yes, dear," he said.

Wow. This ended up quite long, didn't it? Cripes. Ah well.

So I feel I should mention that this series of unconnected one-shot soulmate AUs was inspired by ozhawk's 'Soulmate Shorts'. The only story ideas I seem to be coming up with lately are soulmate AUs, which is frustrating, but also fun. Oops. As long as my readers are happy with it, I'm happy.

Please review!