Note: Spoilers for S02E20 of 'Agents of SHIELD', but non-canon from sometime during that episode. Ignoring that bit at the end, because that was one hell of a shock that I just didn't need. And are we still doing spoilers for 'Cap 2'?

"Third Time Lucky"

(Though it's really third and fourth)

Grant Ward

Everyone had two soulmarks: one was meant to be a platonic bond, the other non-platonic. There was the odd case of a potential triad, someone who had three soulmarks, two of them non-platonic, but it was extremely rare. If you lost your third chance to bond, though, you'd never have another.

Leo Fitz figured out during puberty that while he was bisexual, he tended to lean towards the male of the species. So when he met Jemma Simmons… actually, they never spoke to each other as rivals, and that only ended when they discovered they were soulmates. The point is that he presumed she was his platonic soulmate, and she felt the same way about him, or so she said.

He was fine with that. Really. Especially when his second soulmate turned out to be the very good-looking specialist Grant Ward. Sure, the man didn't have a sense of humour, but some of Fitz's jokes really weren't worth laughing at. And sure, he seemed straight as an arrow, but Ward's other soulmate was Skye, and they didn't get on at all.

South Ossetia seemed to settle it, or so he thought. Fitz was more protective of Simmons after she'd jumped from the Bus. But Ward didn't seem to notice Fitz's tentative offers of going out. Even just as friends, to get to know each other better. That was scuppered when they realised that Ward and May were sleeping together. Clearly, it wasn't meant to be. So Fitz reconsidered Simmons. She was beautiful, of course he could see that, he wasn't blind. He was closer to her than he was to anyone else, including Skye and Ward and his mum. He'd been terrified when she nearly died, was jealous that he wasn't the one to save her, and… wondered how he'd missed the signs. That she was supposed to be his non-platonic soulmate.

But his heart was broken twice in that damned box. First, he realised that his soulmark for Ward had disappeared, after he'd finally accepted the betrayal for what it was. Then Simmons rejected him. (Then it was his brain which was broken, and that was going to take even longer to recover from.)

Alphonso Mackenzie

Mack. Fitz's salvation after Simmons left. Fitz had woken from his coma to aphasia, shaky hands, and a new soulmark. When he met the tall, handsome mechanic with the deep voice, saying those very words, he was sure it was just meant to be platonic. Even though Simmons' words were still there on his foot, the usual sign of a platonic bond, surely Mack wouldn't want a broken engineer as his soulmate?

He didn't know who Mack's other soulmate was, and he didn't care. Half the time, Fitz thought Mack was flirting with him, the other half he told himself that it absolutely wasn't happening, and he was insane to think that it was. Just because Mack knew what he was trying to say, could calm Fitz's hands with a soft touch, was there for him when Simmons wasn't…

Maybe this was his chance?

"We should go out on the town sometime," Mack said.

"And if someone from HYDRA sees us, and follows us home?" Fitz asked. "That would defeat the purpose of a secret base, Mack."

"So we stay in a hotel overnight, and sneak back when we're not being followed."

Fitz gulped, not looking at the mechanic. "Uh-huh?"

"As many beds as you want… or just singular. Think about it, Turbo."

Simmons came back, complicating things, trying to be his friend again and skirt (unsuccessfully) around the issue of him blurting out his feelings for her. He couldn't stay in the same room with her long enough to insist that he was fine, he had Mack, they might have something together, he didn't need Simmons anymore.

(Except he did. Because they were FitzSimmons, and the team needed FitzSimmons, not Fitz and Simmons and Mack.)

He kept Skye's powers from his soulmates, because Fitz could see the writing on the wall. And hell, he could tell that Mack was keeping a secret from him, something he was sharing with Bobbi. Maybe she was his other soulmate? Maybe they weren't quite so platonic? Yet Bobbi and Hunter were back together, weren't they? Maybe they weren't soulmates? Oh God, it was enough to give Fitz a headache. It was enough to give a headless person a headache.

But then the betrayal. Mack was with the people calling themselves the 'real' SHIELD. A spy. Fitz had ended up with another spy for a soulmate. And Simmons had been spying on HYDRA. Three spies, working for three different organisations, not matter how much the others claimed to be SHIELD as well.

It didn't help that Mack saved Fitz from injury, perhaps even death. He still heard that panicked voice, felt those arms around him, protecting him, when he was dreaming at night. It hurt so much, and he wished he could get past it. But he'd been burned by Ward and Simmons, and now Mack as well. Yet his soulmark stayed there, stubbornly, all the time he was on the run with Hunter and Coulson. It didn't disappear until the day before Mack quit.

Fitz would never know why his soulmark disappeared then. He'd probably just accepted that he'd only ever be betrayed by his soulmates. Why pretend that Fate knew what she was doing, when he was clearly just her plaything?

(Bringing Ward briefly back into his life may have also contributed to it. He'd never know, would he?)

Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins

Fitz coughed, hoping his sinuses wouldn't start playing up thanks to the dust in the clichéd burlap bag. He was aware that he was in the back of a car, and his hands were tied, more's the pity. It wasn't going to be easy to find his way out of here, that's for sure and certain. If only he'd taken a class on escaping from bonds. More to the point, a class on being able to dislocate his own shoulder and pop it back into place afterwards. Then again, he'd probably cry out from the pain and alert his kidnappers. (Hopefully not would-be murderers.)

The car pulled to a stop only ten seconds after he woke up, so he wouldn't have had time to do anything much before the boot was wrenched open and he was pulled out.

"They'll be happy to see you," someone said gruffly. He slung Fitz over his shoulder.

"If I get hay-fever because of this sack, I'm blaming you," Fitz said.

"Shut up, Scotty!"

"Least there wasn't anything about beaming anyone up," he muttered.

There wasn't a reply. Fitz couldn't try to escape in front of however many people were around, presumably all trained killers. He'd have to wait until he had a better opportunity, more resources at his disposal that he could shape into a means of defending himself, or at least get a signal out on all known SHIELD channels that he was in danger, give his location.

"One Agent Leopold Fitz," his carrier said.

"A burlap sack?" a new voice inquired. An echo; they must've been inside. "You like the clichés, don't you? Put him over here."

Fitz was strapped into a chair – hypocritical of the other bloke to talk about clichés – and the bag was finally removed. He looked around, losing count of the people behind him, and then glared at the two men standing in front of him, looking him over critically.

"You'll never take me alive," he deadpanned.

The men glanced at each other. The taller one – the one who'd spoken – straightened his spine.

"Thank you," he said sharply to Fitz's abductors. "We can take it from here."

"Our payment—"

"In your bank accounts. Our employers were generous. Now get out."

The room was quickly cleared, helped when the other man opened his jacket and revealed a revolver. In Fitz's opinion, their dark looks would've been enough. (No, he wasn't drooling over them. Not at all. They were the enemy. Unless this was another mistake? He hoped so.)

When it was just the three of them, Fitz raised his chin, about to ask what was happening, when he was interrupted.

"We definitely prefer you alive," the first one said.

"So we'd better keep you that way," the other said.

"…Oh, hell no. No, no, no, this can't be happening." Fitz shook his head. "I don't believe it. My platonic soulmate doesn't want me, my first non-platonic was a HYDRA spy, my second was a… a different spy. When I got two new soulmarks I thought, 'Yes, maybe things are looking up,' but no. My two kidnappers—"

"Technically, we had you kidnapped, and for someone else," the second one said, and the other one sniggered. It just made Fitz angrier.

"You two are my last chance to… to…"

"To what?"

"Uh." He shook his head again, fidgeting his fingers. "The thing. With the marks. Um…"

"Bonding?" the first one suggested.

"Yes! Last chance to bond. And you're probably H-HYDRA."

"Free agents now, but we were before. I'm Brock Rumlow. This is Jack Rollins."

"Formerly STRIKE team," Rollins said. "Brock was the leader."

"So, ex-HYDRA agents. That really doesn't make me feel any better. Who are you working for?"

"We don't ask questions," Rumlow said.

"Maybe you should," Fitz said. "But then you don't seem to have a problem with working for the wrong people as long as you're getting paid."

"So you can honestly say that you've never worked with a mercenary," Rollins said.

Shit. Did they know about Hunter? Fitz set his jaw and said nothing.

"What to do with you?" Rumlow said, circling the chair. "I guess it depends on what our employers are planning."

"I'll never work for the enemy," Fitz said.

"How do you define the enemy?"

"Anyone who isn't SHIELD. So I'm guessing they'll end up killing me, like Garrett wanted his men to do, and like Ward almost did."

"Grant Ward?" Rollins said sharply. "He tried to kill you?"

"I nearly drowned. Jemma saved me. Funny thing is that he was my soulmate at the time. B-but you don't really care. I'm just another SHIELD agent to you. Another target to be… to be dispatch—"

"No!" Rumlow said, stopping behind Fitz. "We won't let them hurt you, Leopold."

"Everyone calls me Fitz." Mack called him 'Turbo', but he wasn't telling them that.

"We're not everyone," Rollins said, stepping closer. "We're your soulmates. Your last chance, you said?" Fitz nodded slowly. "Don't… don't reject us."

"Neither of us has ever had a platonic soulmate," Rumlow murmured. "Just each other. Then we got your mark, and the placement… it isn't platonic, either. I guess neither of us is friendly enough to have something platonic."

"We've got bigger worries now," Rollins said. "Like figuring out what the hell to do. We can't hand him over to people who'll just hurt him or use him."

"I'm right here."

"We can't go anywhere near Rogers," Rumlow said. "He'll kill us on sight, and he doesn't know Leopold."

"Fitz. And I'm still here."

"SHIELD would probably kill us on sight," Rollins said. "At least he'd be safe."

"But unbonded, and we're his last chance. I'm not taking that away from him."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Fitz asked incredulously. "For God's sake—!"

"Shh." Rumlow was bent over, his mouth near Fitz's ear, and he pressed a finger to Fitz's lips. "We'll get you out of here, sweetheart. Just do as we say, and everything will be alright. You'll see, Leopold."

"It's Fitz!"

"Whatever you say," Rollins said, and he smirked as he stroked Fitz's cheek. "Brock, what's the plan?"

"Our car's outside. We say we got a text saying there'd been a change of location, which deleted itself immediately. It was in the same code our employers have been using. Nothing to indicate it wasn't them. Then we change cars before they catch up to us."

"You're not gonna steal a car, are you?" Fitz asked.

"No. We wait in the shadows, then take the car pursuing us. It'll get us further."

"And improvise from there," Rollins continued.

"Right."

Fitz realised that his hands were untied, and he absently rubbed the circulation back into his wrists while Rollins worked on untying his legs.

"If you give me a piece of tech, I can get in contact with my team," he said.

"If they kill us you won't get another chance at bonding," Rumlow said.

"I'll talk them `round. It'd be nice to have someone join our side for once. I… suppose Fate wouldn't give you to me without good reason."

"Maybe we're supposed to persuade you," Rollins murmured, stroking up Fitz's legs to his knees.

"To do what?" Fitz scoffed. "I'm not going dark, an' that's final."

"Love your accent," Rumlow said, and he suddenly scooped Fitz up.

"The correct term is brogue, and what're you doing with me?"

"Pretend to be unconscious."

"What—?"

"Just do it, Leopold," Rollins said, stroking Fitz's hair. "I'll enjoy curling my fingers up in this."

Fitz blushed. "This is part of your plan?"

"That'll be for fun."

"Would you prefer us to actually knock you out?" Rumlow asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Uh… no."

"Then fake it `til we make it, sweetheart."

Fitz rolled his eyes, and went limp. He couldn't believe he was going along with this, but anything to get out of harm's way.

What the hell was he going to do with his soulmates?

He peeked at the two attractive gentlemen (he hoped they'd remain gentlemen, anyway) and decided to keep them. For now. They could prove useful along the way. If nothing else, they were obviously planning to get him to safety…

Useful? God. Now he was thinking like their employers. Like… like HYDRA. Figuring out who was going to be the most useful to further their own ends without caring about people's feelings at all. Yeah, he had no reason to trust these two, other than the fact that they were apparently his soulmates, but still.

"Show me your marks," he said.

"Now's not the best time," Rollins said. They bundled him into the back seat of the car and strapped him down so he couldn't be seen.

"But—"

"We'll show you when we have time," Rumlow said. "Why, d'you think we faked it?"

"It's possible. You could've found out my new words, pretended that I'd said yours, and tattoo them on later using a forgery of my writing—"

"To what end?" Rumlow asked. He jumped into the front seat beside Rollins, and started up the engine while Rollins played with his phone. "We need the money, and we can't afford to be choosy about what jobs we do."

"So you're contractors?"

"The correct terms is mercenaries," Rollins said. "There. I've transferred all the money to our backup account."

"The one they can't trace?" Rumlow asked.

"Yep."

"So we're set until they decide to come find us, and take us out for not handing you in."

"They'd… they'd do that?" Fitz asked.

"Of course."

"Why not just send the money back?"

"Because they've already paid the people who abducted you," Rollins said. "And even if they hadn't, they'll want you, and the fact that we've got you and don't plan to hand you over to them… They're not gonna like that."

"…Oh."

"We're not dealing with SHIELD here," Rumlow said. "There are no second chances."

"Just…" He sighed. "Let me call Coulson. Explain it to him. If I ask nicely…"

Rollins looked at Rumlow, who paused, and then nodded. Rollins handed the phone back to Fitz, and he immediately dialled the number he had memorised.

"Who is this?" Coulson asked tersely.

"It's me, sir."

"Fitz? Where are you?"

"I was kidnapped. The men who were supposed to hand me over… are possibly my soulmates. We haven't checked marks yet, but they're trying to get me to safety. Sir… they're my last chance at bonding. They were HYDRA," Coulson swore, "but they're mercenaries now."

"And you trust them?"

"Not until I've confirmed we're soulmates. They were on the STRIKE team."

Coulson inhaled through his teeth. "Names?"

"Rumlow and Rollins."

"Call us Brock and Jack," Rollins said.

"I've heard of them," Coulson said. "They're really your soulmates?"

"…I think so. I'm using… Jack's phone. There's nowhere they can turn to. Sir, please, if they're my soulmates… either I go with them, or they come back to SHIELD with me."

"Two former STRIKE team members… They were a top crew. Worked with Captain America himself before HYDRA-Gate. Talented field agents, the best of the best when it came to their job."

"I'm sure their ears are burning, sir."

"I knew there was a reason I liked Coulson," Rumlow said, and Rollins chuckled.

"…They'd have to go through the lie detector. They betrayed Captain Rogers and SHIELD—"

"But they're my last chance, sir. I wouldn't get them as my last chance if they were beyond… beyond…"

"Redemption," Rollins said.

"Yeah, that," Fitz said. "Redemption, sir."

"You think it's possible?"

"I… don't think it's impossible. Please, sir. No one else would ever give them a second chance. We were Ward's second chance… he was my first non-platonic soulmate, for Christ's sake, and he almost killed me. These two are saving me from God knows what, even though they may end up dead as a result. Please. They… they said my words. I know it's not an ideal situation, but if they really joined us… it could turn things around."

"I can't afford more mercenaries."

"At least talk it over with them. Mack's left, so that saves some money."

"If he hadn't left, you wouldn't have new soulmates."

"He left because my mark for him disappeared," Fitz admitted.

"There was more to it than that," Coulson said. "He doesn't trust me."

"If he can't trust you, then how can I trust him? You know I'll always be on your side, sir, no matter what you do."

Coulson cleared his throat, but it still sounded odd when he said, "That kind of loyalty… Thank you, Fitz. I don't get that much anymore."

"Well, you should."

"They might call us soon," Rollins said. "You'll have to get off the phone, Leopold."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll call you back again when it's safe, sir."

"You stay safe, Fitz. And don't trust them unless your instincts tell you to."

"Yes, sir." He hung up, and handed the phone back to Rollins. "When we stop, I'll need whatever I can get from the car that isn't essential. D'you have some tools?"

"There'll be something in the trunk," Rumlow said.

"Good."

While they waited under a tree to be caught, Fitz fiddled about with tools and car parts until he'd fashioned a few suitable things. One had to be connected to the car to power it, an improvised thunder-stick. Then there was an explosive and an EMP. (Well, he'd only had forty-five minutes to work with.) There wasn't even time to explain what he'd made before they were joined by their pursuers.

"Stay back while we deal with this," Rumlow said, pushing Fitz back behind a tree, who was juggling his tech. "When it's safe, one of us will come back for you."

Fitz blinked, dumbfounded. "But—"

"Let us take care of you, okay?"

He jogged back to join Rollins, and Fitz watched the fight. The two of them were against four men, and Fitz could admit to being a little turned on as his possible-soulmates beat down the others efficiently. He cradled the improvised weapons to his chest as he trotted back to their sides.

"Ready to go?" he asked. They frowned at him.

"You were supposed to stay there," Rollins said.

Fitz cocked his head. "I can… hear something coming."

Rumlow and Rollins looked at each other.

"I can hear it, too," Rollins said. Rumlow nodded, and there wasn't time for them to hide Fitz again before a lone, dark car pulled up and more men spilled out. Fitz checked out the thunder-stick, and it was sufficiently charged. He darted back to the others, barrelling into them and sending them to the ground. He threw himself down between them and brought down the thunder-stick, sending out a shockwave which knocked their attackers off their feet. He grabbed the grenade-like weapon out of his pocket and threw it to the other car, which exploded and burst into flames.

"The EMP should knock out any trackers in this car," he said, patting the one they'd been planning to steal. He stood up slowly, wincing at the ache in his knees, and glanced away as Rollins and Rumlow also got to their feet.

"You made those in less than an hour," Rumlow said slowly.

"Uh… yeah? I didn't have much to work with, but they were pretty effect—"

He was cut off when Rumlow shoved him up against the side of the car.

"So hot," Rumlow murmured, and then he kissed Fitz.

He could tell they were soulmates just from that. He threaded his fingers up around the back of Rumlow's neck and into his hair. There was a tingle, an undeniable rightness, and his soulmark itched. When Rumlow finally let him go, Rollins took over, and his soulmark began to itch as well. Fitz moaned softly, grumbling when Rollins pulled back.

"Still need to see our writing?" he asked.

"S-standard procedure," Fitz said. "No doubt in my… in my heart. But it's something we have to do anyway, and the team will want to know that I confirmed it visually a-as well as… tactilely."

"Let's wipe the trackers in this one and get going," Rumlow said, tapping the side of the car. Fitz threw the EMP into the backseat, and the wave swept right through the vehicle, hopefully disabling any spy tech inside.

"There's GPS on my phone," Rollins said, checking the screen. "But I guess you need to call Coulson first."

"Thanks," Fitz said. He removed the EMP device, tossed it over his shoulder, and then climbed into the backseat with Rollins's mobile. Coulson answered halfway through the first ring, and Fitz settled as they began to drive off.

"Fitz, is that you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where are you?"

"No idea," Fitz said. "The GPS is on this phone, so we'll check it after I've hung up."

"Keep it on, and we'll find you. Are you still with…?"

"Yes. They're my soulmates, sir. I could feel it."

"Shit."

"I'm… I'm going wherever they go. They've probably done some reprehensible things, but that was before. Now that we've found each other…"

"We'll do whatever we have to, to make it up to you and whatever team you're part of," Rumlow said, looking over the back of his seat. Rollins had taken over as driver.

"I heard that," Coulson said before Fitz could repeat it. "Bring them in. But I'll need to compare the writing samples first."

"Thanks, sir. Can you still track the phone after the call's over?"

"Skye's already pinpointing your location. Just keep driving; we'll find you."

"Yes, sir." Fitz hung up, and handed the phone to Rumlow. "They can find us. We just keep—"

"Driving, I know," Rumlow said. "They enhanced me after I got run over by a Helicarrier and nearly died. So, enhanced senses. Nothing like Captain America, but then that'd be a pain in the ass, being that sensitive."

"I'm not enhanced," Rollins said. "I'm just naturally brilliant."

Fitz snorted. "And modest. Clearly."

Rumlow chuckled. "I meant it before, you know. The way you knocked together three weapons like that in three quarters of an hour? Hell of a turn-on."

"If brains are a turn-on, I should probably inform you that I've got multiple degrees."

"We know all about you, Dr. Fitz," Rollins said. "Engineering genius. Hell if I know why we were lucky enough to get you."

"Maybe I'm your second chance?" Fitz said. "You must've done something good. Not everyone would be so forgiving." Simmons, Skye, and May all came to mind. Perhaps he should've forgiven Mack? But the man had lied to him. He'd saved Fitz's life, and encouraging Simmons to examine him seemed like a form of forgiveness at the time. Yet he'd lost his soulmark, and now had two shiny new soulmates who seemed completely wrong for him, but… if he could bring them to the good side, maybe it would be his own form of redemption, to make up for rejecting Mack?

People who were part of triads like that were considered blessed. So he'd take it as a sign from Fate that he was meant to change their lives for the better, and help SHIELD at the same time.

He pulled his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his shins.

"I don't know whether my bed back at base will be big enough for all three of us," he said without thinking. The car swerved and Rollins swore as he manoeuvred the car back into place. "Sorry! Just thinking out loud."

"We're not taking you to bed straight away," Rumlow said. "You deserve better."

Fitz blushed, and cleared his throat. "Alright. Uh, thanks."

Five months later

"C'mon. Stop being so… so noble!"

Brock arched an eyebrow from behind the book he was reading. Jack chuckled.

"We were waiting for you to come to us," he said. "When something made you reach that cracking point, we'd know you were really ready."

"Great. So now we can bond. D'you know how long I've been waiting?"

"As long as we have?"

"Yes. So take me to bed."

Jack grinned evilly, and moved to Fitz's side while Brock set his book on the bedside table.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Jack said, and he yanked Fitz into a mind-blowing kiss. Brock sneaked up behind Fitz and pressed gentle kisses on the back of his neck while he held Fitz's hips.

"We're ready when you are, Leopold," he whispered.

"I'm never going to break you of that habit, am I?"

"Never."

…Okay. Ship requested by stilesherox3. And it ended up like this. Fitz/Ward and Fitz/Mack were requested by marie, so I threw them in, rather than coming up with alternative ways to write them, especially since I can't trust either Mack or Ward anymore.

Hope it was okay. Please review!