"Dread Pirates"

You were never too old to dress up as a pirate for a fancy dress party, and Brock Rumlow would continue to do so until he found his soulmate. He was the head of the STRIKE team, a feared and respected senior agent, and an agent of HYDRA (not that many people knew the last one). The point was, no one was going to laugh at him for walking around in tall boots, long coat, head scarf and tricorn hat, and three-quarter length pants. It helped that the sword in his belt was real, and he could wield it expertly. A single dark look would halt any sniggering. He didn't go as far as neglecting his personal hygiene, of course, didn't black one single tooth. Not the best first impression to make on his soulmate.

He probably should've gone all black, like that guy in The Princess Bride (which he only watched to understand the reference). Besides, he wore all black most of the time. As long as he didn't dress like Jack Sparrow, he didn't care. His soulmate would know.

"Agent Rumlow!"

He clenched his teeth, and then turned around with his best smile in place.

"Agent Weaver," he said. "I didn't think the academy crowd would be interested in our little gathering."

"We all work for SHIELD," she said. She was dressed as… some female scientist, he would've thought, but she was in period dress. "You were interested to speak to the designer of your new tracking equipment."

"Yes, I was," he said.

"Some of my students don't get out much, so I brought them along tonight," she said, and she pulled a young man over to them. "Fitz, this is Brock Rumlow, head of STRIKE."

The young man looked Brock over, and half-smiled. "So you're the Dread Pirate Rumlow," he said.

"At least the field agents put some effort into their costumes," Weaver said.

"They're used to disguises! We stay in our safe little labs."

Brock took in their argument with some degree of amusement, but mostly relief.

"…coming as Ada Lovelace, did you already have that dress in your wardrobe?"

"I hired it from a shop, Fitz, which you could've done."

"I preferred not to dress up."

Weaver sighed, and smiled at Brock. "He came as himself, apparently."

"No, he didn't," Brock replied, and then he turned his head to Fitz. "You came as my soulmate."

Fitz's jaw dropped. "Oh my God…"

"Soulmate?" Weaver said, looking from one of them to the other. She must have noticed Fitz's blush as well, because she grinned. "Well, I'll leave the two of you to talk. Don't just talk shop, mind."

"Yes, professor," Fitz mumbled. She patted him on the back and wandered off to a group of youngsters who looked lost, probably more students from the academy.

"Fitz?" Brock said.

"My first name is Leopold, but most people call me Fitz. Or Leo, if they're family."

"And what am I?" Brock asked, leading Fitz to the drinks table.

"…You're my soulmate, apparently. That puts you in an entirely different category, doesn't it?"

Brock handed Fitz a cup of punch. "So what do you want me to call you?"

Fitz looked up at him beneath his eyelashes. "Whatever you want, dearie."

Goddamn, he wanted to kiss the smirk off those lips, but not in public. He had a reputation to maintain, and jumping a SHIELD academy student at a costume party didn't match that reputation. Well, maybe on a hedonistic level, but he didn't want to draw that kind of attention. So they made small talk about the tracker Fitz had not only designed, but built himself, and the adjustment he'd made to the firearms they used.

"That explains the tingle I get when I use my gun," Brock said, and he peeled off one of his leather gloves to show Fitz the soulmark. "I'm right-handed. I was using something you'd made, and it was brushing against your mark."

"Yeah." Fitz hesitated, and then removed the band over his left wrist, to show Brock his mark. It was his writing, sure enough.

"You realise this is why I've been dressing like a pirate for every costume party I've attended the last couple of decades," Brock said. "I even watched The Princess Bride because of it."

"Haven't seen the film. Only heard of the term 'Dread Pirate'."

Brock laughed. "I'm tempted to change that just because of this."

"An' you're the reason I've never dressed up to go to a fancy dress party," Fitz said. "I didn't think there was much point if I was just going as someone's soulmate."

"Maybe next time we could both dress as pirates."

"A rollicking band of pirates, eh?"

"Speaking of rollicking…" Brock dropped his voice and placed their drinks aside. "You wanna take this someplace more private?"

"I-I…"

"You don't have to. But if you're interested in something less than platonic…"

"Oh yes," Fitz said, and he licked his lips as he looked Brock up and down. "Definitely interested."

"Then do you really want to… in front of all these people?"

"…Probably best if we go somewhere else. I'll just tell Weaver and Simmons."

"Simmons?"

"Best friend, lab partner. We're called FitzSimmons."

"Ah." Brock felt a stab of jealousy. "I didn't realise that was two names. Heard of you guys, of course."

"Really?" Fitz brightened. "I won't be long. But she'll want to meet you. Later. It can wait `til…"

"I have quarters on base. It's not all that far. I can take you back to the academy afterwards if you can still walk."

Fitz's cheeks went bright red, and he hurried over to his friends. Brock suppressed an instinctive scowl when Fitz spoke to a pretty young woman – probably Simmons – and got a kiss on the cheek from her. But Fitz returned to his side, was his soulmate.

"Let's go," he said.

"Follow me."

As soon as they walked into an empty hallway, out of sight of other people, Brock pressed Fitz against the wall and planted one on him. Fitz squeaked in surprise, but melted into Brock's wandering hands, becoming deliciously pliant and submissive. The placement of their soulmarks was giving Brock wicked ideas. While Fitz was still distracted with the kiss, he pulled off his glove again, then moved Fitz's hands from his shoulders to either side of his head. He shoved the wrist band out of the way and pressed their soulmarks together.

"Holy shit!" Fitz whispered against Brock's mouth.

"I know." There was a powerful thrum beneath his skin, flooding from the soulmark to his fingertips, along his arm, and spreading throughout his body. He cut off Fitz's curses, smashing their lips together again and this time licking his way into his soulmate's mouth. He crushed Fitz against the wall with the full length of his body, grinding against him, and Fitz whimpered as he broke the kiss.

"Stop, or this'll be over before it begins," he said. More smug than disappointed, Brock released him and stepped back.

"Sorry about that," he said. A blatant lie. "I forgot myself as soon as I got a taste of you. It won't be the last time, I'll bet."

Fitz was breathing heavily, and he nodded. "Where's, uh… where's your bedroom?"

Brock took his hand and led him through another corridor, down a set of stairs, and further along until they reached the field agents' quarters. He unlocked the door to his room, and gestured Fitz in ahead of him. Until they were bonded, he wouldn't key Fitz to his identification, but then that was procedure if soulmateships were discovered between SHIELD agents. Even though Fitz was from the academy, they were on the same system; and it worked both ways. He could have access to Fitz's lab, if he wanted it.

This was turning out to be a very good night.

"Uh, this is…" He raised an eyebrow as Fitz searched for words. "I wasn't expecting this. I s'pose I should've been prepared, what with it being a costume party, but I'm not—"

"Take it easy," Brock said, and he stroked Fitz's arms. "It doesn't have to go any further than you're comfortable with. He can bond without taking anything else off. It's not like our marks are in obviously… non-platonic positions. Nothing to suggest that sex has to take place."

"But…" Fitz licked his lips again, a distracting habit that Brock both hated and loved. "I want to. That. Take place. Uh…"

"We can improvise," Brock said, removing his hat, scarf, and sword. "I'm very creative, Fitz."

"I-I'm sure you are."

"We could lie on our sides, fully clothed, while I hold your wrist."

"There's that."

"Or I could be pressing you into my mattress and holding your hands down."

Fitz swallowed. "Better."

"Or rubbing off against you while holding your hands down."

"Mmm."

Brock slipped his belt off slowly, drawing Fitz's attention to his waist. "Or I could be taking you while you sit on my lap and I keep your arms pinned behind you."

"Damn it, Brock! D'you want me to… to embarrass myself like this?"

"Take your pants off if you don't want to ruin them. I think I'll have to do the same myself. Looking at you, I'm gettin' such filthy ideas…"

Fitz pulled off his clothes with all haste and no finesse. Brock undressed smoothly and swiftly, and then moved to his dresser.

"We all keep emergency kits," he said. "I should have enough protection. Haven't used it in a long time, but I keep everything current just in case. Never know who you might have to seduce for a mission." Fitz's face fell, reflected in the mirror. "Or if someone else needs it. Or, best case scenario, you find your soulmate." He pulled condom and lube out of the kit and returned to Fitz, who was standing there, looking awkward and pink-faced and bashful, and making Brock's heart clench. "You ever done this before?"

Fitz shrugged. "Only a couple of times. After a party where I still haven't found my soulmate."

"It'll only be me from now on, sweetheart."

"And…?" He looked so unsure that Brock wanted to get down on his knees and swear an oath, an irrational reaction which he tamped down immediately.

"I'll always find another option, now that I've got you," he said. "No more seducing targets. Not even a kiss." He touched Fitz's nose. "Only you from here on out."

This time Fitz initiated the kiss. His bare skin was unexpectedly warm beneath Brock's hands, despite the chill in the air. He led Fitz over to the bed and sank onto the edge of it, before pulling his soulmate into his lap.

"How'd you want this, Fitz?" Brock murmured. "On our sides? You on your back, or in my lap?"

"C-can I choose 'All of the above'?"

He growled. "I hoped you'd say that."

Enjoying the afterglow, Brock snuggled around Fitz, dirty but content, their soulmarks still pressed together.

"So it started as a rivalry, but you became best friends?"

"Yeah. She's still searching for her soulmate, but she's dead keen on meeting you. I should probably warn you that if she threatens you not to hurt me… well, she may seem harmless, but she's a genius when it comes to bio-sciences, and any threat like that… she could pull off."

"You're both assuming that I'd ever hurt you deliberately. Or accidentally."

"…D'you have any scary friends who are going to threaten to make me disappear if I hurt you?"

"All my friends are scary, Fitz."

"Damn."

He kissed behind Fitz's ear. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

"I feel the same way."

"I know. I can feel it." He squeezed Fitz's wrist gently. "I'm a lucky son of a bitch."

"Towards… towards the end there… what languages were you speaking?"

Brock thought back over it. "I think it was a mix of Italian, German, Croatian, possibly some French…"

"Damn, Brock."

"Got a language kink? `Cause I could exploit that all day, sweetheart."

Fitz snorted. "I hope not. I don't think I could cope."

Brock held him tighter. "Tell me more about your work with Simmons."

"We've both got doctorates, of course, otherwise we couldn't go to the academy."

"So you're both doctors."

"Yes."

"Does that make you…" He'd probably get an elbow to the ribs for this, but it'd be worth it. "A pair of docs?"

"A pair…?"

"A pair-a-docs?"

"Is that a play on 'paradox'?"

"A most ingenious pair-a-docs?"

"Oh my God, you're awful."

"The worst."

"Don't… don't ever change."

Brock buried his nose in Fitz's hair and didn't reply.

Three years later

It was a really inconvenient time to be getting a call from his bond-mate and secret fiancé, but Brock couldn't not answer. Even though the Triskelion was under attack from the commandeered Helicarriers and he'd been revealed as HYDRA to everyone there, he couldn't leave Fitz hanging.

"Hey, sweetheart, how's it going?" he asked.

"Brock, are you anywhere near the Hub?"

"No, I'm not. What's wrong?"

"Simmons is there. She's… she's there, and HYDRA's in SHIELD, and she's in danger. Oh God, Brock, what do I do?"

"Fitz, are you alright? Is there anyone there with you? Are you in danger?"

"You mean aside from the Clairvoyant trying to pick us off? I'm fine, I'm with the team. We're all on the same side. But Simmons is in real danger. I don't know how many people at the Hub might be traitors to SHIELD. We have to do something. I don't know whether we can get there, but—"

"I'll do what I can," Brock said, even though he really couldn't do anything.

"Did you know that HYDRA was in SHIELD? No, wait, stupid question, sorry—"

"Yes, I knew," Brock said.

"…What?"

"Captain America just announced it. The Triskelion's falling down around my ears."

"Wait, what? Get out of there! Look, I'll keep trying to get in touch with Simmons, just get yourself out! I can't…"

"Fitz, I'll be okay."

"I can't do this without you. You're my soulmate."

"I know. I love you, Fitz."

"Don't say that! That means you think you might die."

"It's a possibility. Tell me, Fitz. Say it."

Fitz's voice sounded thick as he replied, "I love you, too, Brock."

"I'll see you on the other side. I hope you find Simmons."

While escaping – screw Project Insight, his soulmate was terrified – Brock sent out a message to any HYDRA agents who were still alive to ask if anyone was at the Hub. All the while he ran to the transport room, where he could try to get a `jet. There was a hell of a lot of destruction, and he had to be covert where he could so that the wrong people wouldn't see him trying to leave the scene without completing the mission.

He found two remaining planes, checked over the closest one, and found it was in perfect working order, aside from broken glass on the roof. He flew out of there before the third Helicarrier hit the base, and plotted the co-ordinates for the Hub.

Now it was all out in the open. If he was lucky he would continue to get away with the lie he'd been living, at least until he worked out what to do next. He wasn't letting Fitz go, no way in hell was he doing that. If he was lucky, he'd never have to choose.

'If he was lucky'. That was the phrase of the hour.

The Hub was on lockdown, and he hadn't been able to contact Fitz to ask him whether Simmons was safe. Brock was fond of Simmons; she couldn't lie to save her life, like Fitz. He landed on the roof and climbed down the outside until he came to a broken window, then hopped inside. He drew a firearm and crept through the facility, until he heard a definitely-female shriek. He hurried in that direction, pretty sure it was Simmons, and cursed when he saw Hand there with some of her lackeys. They immediately aimed at him, and he surrendered, shuffling to Simmons' side.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really. Have you been able to contact Fitz?"

"He asked me to check on you. You haven't heard from him?"

"Quiet!" Agent Hand snapped. "You three have a choice. Either swear undying loyalty to HYDRA or you die. No third option."

"I'd rather die," Simmons said.

"Better dead than a traitor," the guy beside Simmons said. Hand looked at Brock. He knew she wasn't HYDRA; this was a test.

"I will," he said, and she raised her eyebrows. "If you let them go unharmed. If you kill them, you'll have to go through me."

Hand scrutinised them, then smiled. "Good choice," she said. "That's three more people I can trust. You had me worried there, Agent Rumlow."

"Soon as they were gone, I would've turned on you and gone down fighting. As he said, better dead than a traitor."

Simmons hugged him, and he chuckled. "Gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"Agent Triplett, Agent Rumlow." They shook hands. "Brock is Fitz's soulmate."

"Ah, you're the guy he doesn't shut up about," Triplett said, grinning. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Enough," Hand said. "Let's get to work."

As soon as the conversation with Garrett revealed that Coulson was loyal to SHIELD – and honestly, a guy with that big a crush on Captain America seriously couldn't be HYDRA – they stormed in. Once it seemed safe, Brock sent Jemma in first. He smiled when she threw her arms around Fitz. Then she whispered something, turned Fitz to the door, and Brock waved to him from outside. His soulmate ran past everyone else and into Brock's arms.

"I was so scared," Fitz whispered, holding him tight. "Thought I was going to lose you."

"You're stuck with me forever. Didn't you know that?"

"Everything's falling down around us, Brock. What do we do?"

"We follow orders, like we always do." Fitz lifted an eyebrow. "Most of the time."

"Wish I could marry you now. We might not live to see tomorrow."

"Me, too. Come on. I think it's time for strategy meetings."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Triplett said.

Somehow, Brock was able to avoid being seen by any HYDRA agents, and no one mentioned him by name. Maybe he would miraculously get away with it?

"Are you coming with us?" Fitz asked.

"I have no idea what happened to the rest of my team, and I got out of the Triskelion just before it was completely destroyed," Brock said. "You saved my life, telling me about Simmons. If I hadn't left when I did to go find her, I'd probably be d—"

"Don't. Don't say that. Please come with us? We need as many trustworthy people as we can get our hands on."

"You wanna get your hands on me, huh?" Brock murmured. Fitz flushed.

"Y'know what I mean," he said.

"Just teasing. Take me to your leader."

Then their leader – Coulson, since Hand left with Garrett, Ward, and other agents – took them through the Canadian wilderness on what was possibly a wild goose chase. If it was, Brock would probably strangle Coulson for putting Fitz through this.

But no. It was a comfortable little base, and Brock just wanted to pull Fitz aside for some private time. Was it too much to ask? But nope. He had to go through a lie detector, one Romanov was supposed to be unable to beat.

Oh joy.

Just think of Fitz, he told himself, before sitting down and squirming until he was comfortable.

"Sorry, I'm ready," he said.

"Sure?"

"If I got an ache that could throw the readings, couldn't it?"

"You're a smart man, Agent Rumlow," Koenig said.

"Thanks."

"We're gonna start with some easy questions and establish a baseline. Can I have your full name?"

"Brock Rumlow. No middle name."

"Eye colour?"

"Hazel."

"You ever been married and-or bonded?"

"Bonded to my soulmate, Leopold Fitz. Not married yet."

"Yet?"

"Secret engagement." Koenig tilted his head.

"Congratulations," he said. "Please list your immediate family."

"None. Only Fitz. And by extension Simmons."

"What's the difference between an egg and a rock?"

Brock raised his eyebrows. Right…

"One is living, one is dead. I'm sure Fitz could give you a long list, though."

"Have you ever heard of Project Insight?" Koenig asked.

"I was at the Triskelion today. Heard and saw plenty about it then."

The agent winced. "My sympathies."

"I probably lost friends today, and I might never know." Brock relaxed his fists, aware that tension might skew the results. "Sorry. I'm sure it'll be a sort point for a long time."

"I doubt any of us will get over the betrayal anytime soon," Koenig said. "Have you ever had contact with Alexander Pierce?"

"Met him around the Triskelion. Hell, he was there today."

"You wash up on a deserted island alone. Sitting on the sand is a box. What is in that box?"

"Fitz. No, that'd be selfish. But he'd be able to get us off the island, no problem. So yeah, actually, my soulmate." Saddest thing was that it was true. He'd become such a sap.

"SHIELD no longer exists. The agency has been labelled a terrorist organisation. So why are you here?"

"Fitz. Again. And I guess SHIELD is only extinct to those who think it is. While there are people prepared to fight, there'll always be an army. And where Fitz goes…" He trailed off, and cleared his throat. Koenig looked amused. "It all comes down to my soulmate, in the end."

Koenig looked over the lie detector, and then switched it off.

"Congratulations, Agent Rumlow," he said. "Let's go get you a lanyard."

It seemed that sappiness had a place in being an undercover agent. He was sent straight to where Fitz was waiting, and they clinked lanyards together.

"Hey," Brock said.

"Hello," Fitz said.

"…Know if there's somewhere private we can go? I need to check you over. And we haven't had a minute to ourselves for weeks."

"Well, you've been jaunting around with Captain America, and I've been helping the others chase down Centipede and the Clairvoyant—"

"When we're married we'll make time to be together."

The others were listening, he realised, and he smiled weakly at them.

"Uh… can any of you perform a wedding ceremony?" Brock asked.

"Got rings?" Coulson said.

"Dog tags," Fitz said, drawing out the long chain around his neck with one of Brock's tags. He pulled out his own, which had the addition of two rings. Fitz's eyes widened.

"You don't have to wear one," he said. "Just on the chain. But you come from a traditional fam-mph!"

It was hard to detach Fitz from his mouth after that, not that he especially wanted to, but there were people around. Coulson cleared his throat.

"I went undercover as a priest once," he said. "Was even ordained, though we pushed the paperwork through at speed. But I'm still qualified…"

"Thank you," Brock said.

"Maybe you should keep your hands off me until we're married, then," Fitz said, poking him in the side. "Make an honest man out of me."

"Tease." Fitz fluttered his eyelashes, and Brock rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Brock insisted on going along with them to capture Marcus Daniels. Now he and Fitz were married, he was going to guard his soulmate with his life. It was as he feared; HYDRA had managed to enhance Daniels' powers. But Fitz, clever Fitz, brilliant Fitz, came up with the solution. He watched, his heart tight in his chest, as Coulson comforted his lonely soulmate when she wouldn't even know that it was really him. Could he ever be that self-sacrificing for Fitz's sake?

If he had been, he would've left HYDRA the minute he realised his soulmate was SHIELD through and through. Brock was a terrible person. Because he was finally seeing what he could've had for much longer if he wasn't HYDRA.

Another 'if only' was added to his list when the arrived back at Providence. If only he'd known every HYDRA agent. He could've warned them about Ward. Instead, he was left comforting a shocked Fitz, and helping Coulson and Hill take out soldiers before going on the run. Brock elected himself protector of 'the kids' as the most senior agent without Coulson around. Not that there was a ranking system anymore, he imagined.

The motel was pretty basic, but they needed somewhere low-key. He bobbed around in the water while Simmons and Fitz talked, reassuring each other that they weren't HYDRA. Neither of them asked him, and he began to swim more vigorously. He had to be in peak condition with this skeleton crew, and he didn't feel much better when Skye and Coulson returned. He wouldn't have minded travelling around with his soulmate and Simmons indefinitely. As long as they were safe, from both SHIELD and HYDRA.

"You're sure this is safe?" Brock asked. They'd found the Bus, and were sending one of the DWARFs onto the plane to infiltrate it. "Seems too easy."

"Maybe our luck is changing?" Simmons said.

"Or maybe not."

All three whirled around, and Rumlow froze when he saw that it was Ward. Then he stepped forward, despite the gun being pointed at him.

"You two, run," he said.

"They'll be seen," Ward said. "If you try to attack me, I'll shoot, and we'll take them anyway. Please, resist. My job would be so much easier if I didn't have a field agent to deal with."

"Brock, don't be stupid," Fitz said. "Please."

"Brock?" Ward said. "Brock Rumlow?"

"Fitz-Rumlow," Simmons said.

Ward grinned, and Brock felt sick to his stomach. "Leader of the STRIKE team?" Brock nodded shortly. "I'm sure Garrett will be… interested in seeing you."

That was it. The end was coming. Fitz would hate Brock, and so would Simmons. Only just married to his soulmate, and Brock was going to lose everything because he'd been on the wrong side. He held Fitz's hand tightly, staring straight ahead until they were in front of John Garrett.

"Is this Brock Rumlow I see before me?" he asked, standing up. "I do declare it is." He smirked. "Hail HYDRA." Brock didn't speak; he just clutched FitzSimmons' wrists tightly. "Well, what's the matter? All of STRIKE team – apart from Captain America – were HYDRA, and you're the only one left. Their leader. Reporting personally to Alexander Pierce. Why, you were about as high as could be without actually being a head of HYDRA. Now you're cosying up with Coulson's team?"

"Brock, what is he talking about?" Fitz whispered.

"No longer Rumlow, sir," Ward said. "Fitz-Rumlow. Seems they married."

Garrett burst out laughing. Brock wished he knew the Bus better, and where HYDRA agents might be stationed. Where Fitz and Simmons would be safe.

"This is priceless," Garrett said. "Fucking your way to gaining their trust?"

"How dare you!" Brock hissed. "You don't know anything about!"

"Start by killing Rumlow," he said. "I don't think he'll be any use to us." His eyes narrowed somewhere to Fitz's right. "What's that?" Ward grabbed Fitz's hand, and Brock recognised the device.

"Looks like a joy-buzzer," Ward said.

"Yeah, you know me," Fitz said. "Always playing pranks."

Then he activated the EMP. Garrett collapsed, and in the confusion Brock shoved Fitz and Simmons behind him.

"Run!" he said. "I'll find you. Just go. Hide."

"Is it true?" Fitz said, looking him right in the eyes. "Brock, tell me. Is it true?"

"I'll tell you everything you wanna know later. But run now. I'll hold `em off as long as I can."

"Kill them!" Garrett shouted. Brock pushed FitzSimmons hard, forcing them to run, and turned back to deal with as many HYDRA agents as he could take down. Ward somehow got past him, and he heard the scientists shouting at him. He killed the agents he could, and then ran, getting there in time to see Ward send his soulmate and Simmons out the plane.

"No," he breathed. Ward looked ready for a fight, but Brock couldn't waste time. One thing he did know about the plane was where to find emergency items, and he would kill anyone who'd get in his way.

He left the parachute behind, and keeping a line going to the life raft, he swam with goggles and a light, searching for the box. He knew Fitz was still alive, and he could only hope that Simmons was as well. He nearly inhaled water when he found the room floating a hundred feet below the surface. They weren't supposed to sink at all unless the door was open. He swam back to the surface, grabbed the two spare oxygen tanks – please let them be necessary – and carried them down, allowing the weight of the metal to drag him towards the room. As soon as he was in front of one window, he waited for Fitz and Simmons to look up. They did, and he indicated the tanks.

They seemed to trust that he wanted to help them, but there was no way to communicate, which was frustrating as hell. He held up a finger, then transferred both cylinders to one hand. Simmons began to point to one side and down. He swam around and saw an emergency lever which would open the hatch. Problem was, he couldn't pull on it and keep the cylinders and masks close to the hatch at the same time. And the room would begin to sink as soon as water flooded in. God, this was terrifying.

But… he'd kept wires from the parachute. He kept the cylinders under one arm and, with fumbling fingers, tied a couple of loops on the ends. He hooked one around the lever, carefully unrolling it, and then hooked the other around the hatch handle and wound the end around his belt. Fitz and Simmons were watching as he swam back to the hatch, grateful for all that practise at the motel. He held up three fingers, then put one down, then the next, and saw them both take a deep breath. He pulled one wire, and the hatch doors burst open. The scientists shot up towards him and the hatch dragged him down. He didn't relax until they were both wearing the masks. He unhooked the end of the hatch wire, and swam up behind them until they reached the surface.

The life raft was a bit flooded from when it had been jerked down, but they managed to scoop out most of the water, and Brock boosted both of them to safety before joining them. He slumped down, removing his oxygen tank, and took great breaths he didn't need.

"I don't know how to let anyone know where we are," he said.

"We sent out a signal on secure SHIELD channels," Simmons said. "If we're lucky—"

"Look!" Fitz said. "Is that a plane?"

"I hope it's not a bird if it's going to be that big."

"I'm sorry I took so long," Brock said. "I was searching manually."

"Why did he think you were HYDRA?" Fitz asked. Brock swallowed, and looked at his feet.

"Because I was," he said. The other two gasped. "Even after I met and bonded with you, Fitz. I've been a HYDRA agent for a long time, decades. Hard habit to break, if you can call it a habit. The bad kind, I guess. And I wanted… so much to betray all that, just for you, but I couldn't. The wrong people knew we were soulmates. They would've used you against me if I'd shown even the slightest inclination to change sides. You and Simmons, when I accepted her as a part of the family. Or… you accepted me. It's not fair, I know, and I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, if that's even possible. If it isn't, I won't blame you." He touched the place where his tag and ring rested against his heart. "And if you want me to…" He swallowed, and concentrated on the approaching Quinjet. "I really hope that's help."

He avoided their eyes as the Quinjet hovered near them, and Nick Fury – still alive, seriously? – stuck his head out the hatch and threw them a rope. They all climbed to safety, and even Brock was welcomed aboard. Well, he was allowed on board, not left to die, so he counted that as a win.

"Thought STRIKE team was all HYDRA, especially you, according to Rogers," Fury said.

"A change of heart. Anything to protect my family." He glanced at FitzSimmons, but still didn't make eye contact. "What are your orders, sir?"

"I think you'd better fill me in on what's been happening."

Brock gave his report succinctly. Fury confirmed details with Fitz and Simmons, and then left them to talk to the pilot. Brock still couldn't look at them. He was convinced he'd lost them, especially Fitz, forever. He buried his face in his hands, and the more he thought over losing his two scientists, of Fitz taking the ring and dog tag away – or worse, handing his own back – the more it brought him closer to tears. Fuck, he'd been so stupid. If he'd confessed from the start, he could've already made it up to them, to everyone. But no. He'd been an idiot, and he was going to lose everything important to him because of it.

Someone put hands on his knees, and he looked between his fingers. It was Fitz, and Brock lowered his hands, ready to take whatever was coming to him. It damn near broke his heart when Fitz wiped the moisture from Brock's cheeks.

"You're not Grant Ward," Fitz said softly. "You weren't the one who pushed us out of the plane."

"I still betrayed—"

"You searched for us, and then saved us. I hate to think what might've happened if you hadn't brought oxygen. We might've kept sinking."

"Don't. I'm already gonna have nightmares about losing you. New ones, anyway."

"You're crying," Simmons said. She was standing beside Brock, and she touched his shoulder. "You chose us over HYDRA. Ward didn't do that."

"He was family to you."

"You were our family first," Fitz said. "Brock…"

"You don't understand. If it wasn't for you I'd still be loyal to HYDRA."

"Which is the difference," Simmons said. "Ward could've chosen us. He was sleeping with May and in love with Skye, and he still returned to Garrett's side. Whoever you once owed loyalty to, you chose us instead."

"Because I love you both. You're my soulmate, Fitz. And you're my little sister, Simmons."

Fitz leaned up, cupped the back of Brock's head, and tugged him into a kiss. This… it didn't make sense. Where was the punishment? He'd done a bad thing. He shouldn't have… Was this just supposed to be a distraction? Were they going to kill him while he was off-guard? Didn't they know he expected it, and wouldn't argue?

"Stop it," Fitz growled. "I can feel what you're feeling, remember? You're confused, and scared, and resigned, and you're not enjoying a kiss with your husband."

"Why aren't you killing me?" Brock said. "You have to punish me."

"Why?" Simmons asked.

"Because…"

"We're not HYDRA," Fitz said. "There's a difference."

Brock stared at Fitz. If he concentrated, he could feel his soulmate's honesty… and affection. For Brock.

"You don't hate me," he said.

"You're my soulmate and husband, Brock Fitz-Rumlow. You've helped us, protected us. Hearing what happened at the Triskelion, knowing you flew out of there to find Simmons for me instead of staying behind and ensuring that Project Insight went ahead… you did the right thing. I can't hate you for that."

"But for being HYDRA—"

"I'm pissed about that, but mostly relieved that you're on our side now. You… are on our side now, aren't you?"

"Yes. It goes without saying, but yes, I'm no longer HYDRA."

"Well, you didn't reply when Garrett said 'Hail', so I figured…" He shrugged. "I'm not going to punish you, and neither will Simmons. You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it yourself." Brock bowed his head, but Fitz tipped it back up again and stroked his damp cheeks. "Don't cry, dearie. The only way you could ever make me stop loving you would be if you betrayed us, and you never have."

"Except by not telling you that HYDRA was in—"

"You did the same thing that Ward did, keeping that secret, but the difference is that you had a change of heart."

"Not my heart to change."

Fitz kissed him again. This time, Brock accepted it. He'd take whatever he could get. After the kiss, Simmons hugged him. Then he scowled at them.

"You should be strapped in as we're flying," he said.

"Come and sit between us," Simmons said. "There are three seats here."

Their hands were small and cool in his, still clammy from swimming. He used them to ground himself, the scientists leaning against his shoulders. He met Fury's gaze.

'Thank you,' he mouthed. If it wasn't for the director, they'd still be down in that raft, hoping for help but not really expecting it.

"I'll alert your team," Fury said. "We're going to another of my safe houses. You'll need to be checked over for injuries."

"Brock first," Fitz said.

"He fought off half a dozen HYDRA agents to protect us," Simmons added.

"Wasn't quite half a dozen," Brock muttered. Fitz smacked him on the knee.

"You're going to be checked first, an' that's final," he said. Brock smiled, closing his eyes as he rested his head back.

"Yes, dear," he said.

I didn't mean to write Simmons into the relationship as a sort of third party, but if you're the soulmate for one of them, certainly at this point in their friendship, you have to accept the other one as part of the package. Personally, I think it's cute.

I'm on kind of a roll with chapters today. Over 10 000 words written! I'm quite impressed. Well, it's been a rainy day, and I stayed in because I had to wash my hair, and I've been fairly productive. Okay, only in fan fiction, not original, but hey. Established reader fanbase. *Indicates dedicated readers*

This idea came from the references to Dread Pirate Rumlow from SoupShue and ozhawk, and the request for Fitz/Rhodey/Rumlow from stilesherox3. I couldn't think of how to incorporate Rhodey, at least not in this chapter, but Fitz was just too irresistible.

'Pirates of Penzance' references ended up in this. Oops. Specifically, 'A rollicking band of pirates', 'A most ingenious paradox', and even the pilot at the end (although that was a delightful accident).

Please review!