"Not Mine to Claim"

Christmas Eve, 1990

Assassins rarely knocked, but that was no excuse for slackness. Edwin Jarvis ensured that his bullet-proof vest sat comfortably, noticed that Tony was hard at work on a circuit-board between bites of dinner, and made for the side door of the house.

He missed Ana, even before her death. He'd released her from their marriage as soon as she found her soulmate, once they were sure she would not be ostracised from society due to some ridiculous double-standard. Now that he no longer had her to talk to over the phone, he was glad of Tony's company. Not quite the festive atmosphere Jarvis had expected, but it was better than that oily Stane, or the gradually increasing frostiness between Howard and Maria. Peggy seemed distracted lately as well, and he wondered why. The forty-fifth anniversary of Captain Rogers's plane going down had been a few months ago, and it was hardly the most significant anniversary. In another five years, perhaps, but this year?

He sighed, and smoothly opened the door. As Howard's son was staying, secret though it was, Jarvis should probably have increased his security measures. The masked man on the other side of the door even raised his eyebrows, as though to say 'Really? This is the best you could do?'

"It isn't much, but it's home," Jarvis said by way of explanation. The stranger fumbled his gun, drawing attention to it, and Jarvis tensed.

"I know those words," the man said. He had an accent, but it was hard to place.

"So do I," Jarvis whispered. He could hardly believe it. His soulmate couldn't be the man here, obviously to kill Tony.

"Hey, what's going on?" Tony called from the dining room. The gunman snapped to attention, releasing the safety on his weapon. Jarvis moved in front of it.

"Stay there!" he snapped. To both of them, and he hoped they would both obey, though he knew better than to expect that of Tony.

"What's going on?"

"Stand aside," the gunman said. His voice shook slightly, and his creased forehead was a dead giveaway that he was frowning.

"You're my soulmate," Jarvis said.

"…Your what?"

"The other half of my soul. You said my words, and judging by your reaction I said yours. I can show you my handwriting, but not while you're pointing a gun at me."

"Is…" The gun lowered slightly. "Is that what they mean? I've seen `em before, but no one told me…"

Jarvis had no idea what had happened to this man, potentially his soulmate; either that, or someone had discovered Jarvis's words and were using them against him. Tony was his priority, however, and always would be while his parents weren't around.

"Put that away," he said, attempting to sound calm.

"What's a soulmate?"

"…Fate wants us to be together. As friends, or… more than that. We're connected on a spiritual level. That's what it means."

"Oh." The stranger's gun fell to his side, although he kept holding it.

"It's unnatural for soulmates to hurt each other," Jarvis continued. He could heard footsteps growing nearer, and prayed that Tony wasn't about to get into trouble.

"Oh."

"What is your name?"

"…I have no name."

"Do you know who I am?"

The stranger shook his head. "My instructions were to kill the boy."

"I'm twenty!" Tony piped up. Too damn close, possibly at the kitchen door.

"He's my son," Jarvis said. A desperate move, but necessary. He kept his body between the assassin and Tony's possible location. "You wouldn't hurt my son, would you? The son of your soulmate?"

"D-dad, what's going on?" Tony said. He definitely sounded closer this time, and was hopefully playing along. If Howard had silently and suddenly turned up, this was going to be awkward, and possibly quite bloody.

"Nothing, son," Jarvis said.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Tony moved closer, and the gunman's eyes caught on him. Jarvis again placed his body between them.

"Don't hurt my son, please," he said, and he risked touching his soulmate's left arm. It felt strangely hard, but it was covered, like the rest of the man.

"My instructions…" But he seemed unsure now. Jarvis stepped closer.

"Tony, leave us alone for a minute, would you?" he said.

"…Sure thing, Dad." Quiet footsteps retreated, and Jarvis cupped his soulmate's face.

"He's my son," he repeated. "Please don't hurt him. I couldn't bear it."

"N-no," the stranger said, his blue eyes roaming over Jarvis's face. "Course not."

"Can I help you in any way? Get you away from the people controlling you?" He brought their faces closer together. "If you're in a bad situation, I will do everything I can to get you out of it."

He was only mildly surprised by the kiss. It was swift, barely a second's pressure, and then the gunman was disappearing into the night. Jarvis stared until he was completely out of sight, and then closed the door. He found Tony curled up on the couch in the living room, and stood beside the arm of the chair. He ruffled his charge's hair, and was shocked by the tears he noticed on the boy's cheeks.

"Master Stark?" he said. He'd only broken the habit out of necessity. Tony sniffled and rubbed off his tears.

"You defended me," he mumbled.

"Of course," Jarvis said.

"You didn't have to."

"I did. I've known you since before you were born, Master Stark. It is my duty to you, not to your father, that compels me to protect you."

"He wouldn't," Tony said.

Jarvis knew better than to start this argument, and contented himself with continuing to stroke Tony's hair.

"Any man would be lucky to have a son as brilliant and inherently good as you are," he said. It was the utter truth. Ordinarily, being British would have prevented him from speaking so candidly about his warm, paternal feelings to his employer's son, but these were special circumstances. "I hope you did not mind me borrowing the title of your father this evening."

"Not saying I minded," Tony said. "But why did you? I thought that guy came here to kill me."

"He came here to harm you, yes."

"And claiming me as your son stopped him?"

Jarvis hesitated, before choosing to disclose the truth. "He is my soulmate."

"…Your soulmate?"

"We appeared to have said each other's words. Perhaps I am not meant to have a true soulmate?" He allowed his hand to drop from Tony's messier hair. "This was only to keep you safe? Fate must have great plans for you."

Tony snorted, and sank back into the cushions. "Yeah, right. But… thanks, J. I'm lucky to have you."

Jarvis simply smiled, feeling as though he could burst with pride and joy.

Christmas Eve, 2015

Bucky awoke with a shout. He couldn't get used to waking up in a warm bed, even in a sleeping bag on the floor like Sam suggested. But for once his nightmares had revealed real memories. He was sure they were real, and thumbed the area on his waist where he once had a soulmark.

'It isn't much, but it's home.'

Tony Stark had barely spoken to him when they first met, and Bucky knew why; none of them really knew who was responsible for the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark, but Bucky was a strong suspect, and his unreliable memory didn't allow for him to work out whether he was the guilty party or not.

Now he knew that it was both.

"Is Stark awake?" he asked, stumbling to his feet.

"Sir is in his workshop at Stark Tower," FRIDAY said. "He's busy."

"I didn't kill his parents," Bucky said, and he perched on the edge of his bed.

"Do you want me to tell him, sir?"

"I wanna talk to him about something important."

"I'll see if Sir is available to talk."

During the ensuing pause, Bucky pulled his pyjamas back into place. When Stark appeared on the screen, it startled Bucky once again how closely he resembled Howard. A testament to how much HYDRA had screwed him up.

"What is it?" Stark asked tersely.

"I didn't kill your parents," Bucky said. Stark blinked a few times, and then sighed.

"That's what this is about?" he said.

"But I think I was responsible."

"Okay, I'm hallucinating this because I've been working too much. FRIDAY, close down the projects I've been working on. Save them first."

"Yes, sir."

"Hold on a second!" Bucky said before Stark could end their conversation. "I'm bein' serious. I… I recalled somethin' during the night. Do you remember one Christmas… I don't know how many years ago, but you were only a kid or something, and… and a masked assassin came to the door?"

"You'd be surprised how often that happened."

Shaking that off, Bucky continued. "Your dad answered the door… but it wasn't Howard. He just said he was your dad." Stark froze in place, staring at Bucky.

"Twenty-five years ago. That was you. You're… you were Jarvis's soulmate."

"The… Vision?"

"No, the original Jarvis, Edwin Jarvis. FRIDAY, show him a snap from about Christmas nineteen-ninty."

FRIDAY produced an image, the same man from the dream. He was standing there with Tony in front of a small Christmas tree, wrapping paper strewn over the floor.

"It was just the two of us that year," Stark said. "I both hated and loved that Christmas. The last one my parents were alive and I didn't spend it with them… but Jarvis treated me like I was his son. He never had any kids – his wife left when she found her soulmate – and he claimed me as his son to protect me from you."

"I told HYDRA," Bucky said. "When I got back I had to explain why I hadn't killed you. I told `em I wasn't gonna kill the son of my soulmate. They must've took it to mean that I'd found you with Howard, and… and they arranged for someone else to murder your parents. It wasn't me, but it was my fault for failing my mission, telling them why… it was my fault your parents got killed, but I didn't pull the trigger that time. It happened because I didn't take you out like they wanted me to."

"You're Jarvis's soulmate. This explains why you didn't come back to us for help."

"Where…" Bucky swallowed. "Where is he?"

"He's dead."

"I know that. My soulmark's gone. I just wanna… visit him."

Stark sighed. "Get some sleep. I'll take you to see the grave tomorrow… later today, actually, going by the clock. I'll pick you up at ten."

Bucky nodded, and the screen went dark. He lay back down and curled under his blankets, pulling them tight around him. He tried to pretend that someone was cradling him from behind, tried to remember the older man he'd met. He'd stood up to the Winter Soldier and claimed Stark as his son to protect him from the enemy.

A tear slipped down the side of his nose, tickling him as it went.

Due to medical advances, foreign aid, and a lack of World Wars since the forties, Fate was always busy creating new souls and soulbonds. She didn't create life – living beings were good enough at that, some much too prolific – but she did create potential links between people. She was responsible for determining who should be paired, usually in consultation with other divine beings if they had plans for major upcoming events; but her favourite was pairing the unhappy people with those who could make them happy.

She'd been responsible for Cinderella situations, yes, but there was only so much she could do. Her souls would know when they were bonded forever, and they would be rejoined after death. There were cases where she'd been busy and the bonds weren't quite right, and cases where the purity of a couple's souls needed to be sent back to Earth to cleanse other bonds simply through their proximity.

But all too often the burgeoning population meant that she lost track of the missed opportunities. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't control every pairing, nor did she choose the words soulmates would speak to each other. She didn't control when they were sent out. She was the ultimate creator, not an administrator! And she wasn't there to witness every meeting, or she'd never get any work done.

"These two never seem to catch a break, in any lifetime," one of her underlings said, plonking a file on her desk. Fate was between creations – on her lunch break, in fact – so she looked over the file. And no, she didn't remember every soul she made. But she frowned as she read the information, and then slammed the file shut.

"Prepare my chariot," she said frostily. The administrator scurried out, and Fate strode to the door. She grabbed a coat – the Northern hemisphere was in winter – and slipped her feet into boots. Once she was wrapped up, she headed out to her chariot, invisible to mortals until she wished it otherwise. She climbed into the driver's seat, flicked the reins, and took off.

It was rare that she had to step in and personally fix something, and she was going to need some help with this one. Souls weren't returned to her unless they were never bonded, and then they waited in hold until they could be sent out for another try after their match's host body also died. In this case, one body was dead, and the other was still alive after a quarter of a century. Something had preserved it, and that particular man was still needed, so he couldn't be taken yet.

The worst of it was that these two souls had been in circulation for four hundred and sixty-three years. A personal record, one which Fate did not want. She stopped the chariot at the holds, grabbed the soul most recently belonging to Edwin Jarvis – how lonely it felt – and stored it carefully in the pocket of her coat.

One more stop. If HYDRA had not caused the events leading to James Barnes and Steve Rogers disappearing for decades, Barnes and Jarvis would have met after the mission where Barnes died. So she needed to organise a new body, at the age he should have been when they met.

Time for them to have a second chance.

It was cold in the snow, but Bucky didn't care, even as his knees protested. They'd turn numb soon enough.

He reached out with one gloved hand and swept away the snow covering his soulmate's name. He traced each engraved letter, ignoring the prickly feeling where his soulmark had been. It was just the cold, and the pain of regret. That was all.

"I'm sorry," Stark said.

"Me too, Bucky," Steve said, squeezing Bucky's shoulder.

"Feel so empty," he said. "Only got one kiss… one chance, and I lost it."

"HYDRA stole it from you, you mean."

"Practically the same thing."

"I'll dig out everything I've got left of Jarvis," Stark said. "Should've gone to you, if only…"

"If only," Bucky echoed. "Thanks. It's the closest I'll ever get. Maybe in another lifetime I'll get a chance. If I ever die in this one."

"You don't have a new soulmark?" Steve asked.

"Nowhere visible. This is where… his was." He tugged up his shirt, exposing his torso to the frigid air as he stood and turned. But he froze when he saw the words there. Different ones, but the same writing as before. Stark inhaled sharply, and Bucky's gaze fixed over their shoulders at an approaching sleigh. A woman was driving, and there was a man sitting beside her, wrapped up in warm clothes and half bent over in the cold.

"Bucky?" Steve said.

"That's his handwriting," Stark said, his eyes still on Bucky's mark.

"Look," Bucky said, pointing past them. They both turned as well. The sleigh pulled to a stop, the woman blocking their sight.

"James Barnes," she said.

"I'm pretty sure sleds aren't allowed in the cemetery," Stark said. Steve elbowed him.

"That's me," Bucky said, stepping forward. "Who're you?"

"Fate," she said. "HYDRA has interfered in my work for the last time, I swear to the divine ones. We can't do much personally, but this one has the information you need to bring your enemies down. It can wait a few days, though." She stepped down from the sleigh, and held out her hand. The man hopped out, one hand in hers and the other clutching the front of the sleigh. When he straightened up he looked straight at the trio.

"Jarvis?" Stark said.

"Master Tony," he said, and then his eyes met Bucky's. "Hello, again."

"This can't be real," Bucky said. Those were the words on his waist, sure, but how could a dead man really be alive again? It wasn't even a fresh death, and he hadn't been in cryo-preservation like Bucky. His body was in the grave they were standing beside, damn it! Or at least… the grave that was slowly disappearing into thin air.

"It's real," Fate said, sounding terse. "Please get on and bond as soon as possible. Those two souls have waited long enough." She swung back up into the sleigh and summoned the reins. "I don't want to have to intercede again on your behalf. Happy Christmas for tomorrow. Edwin Jarvis, remember what I have told you."

She left before any of them could speak again. Bucky stayed where he was, unsure whether he'd really be welcome yet. Stark had no qualms in walking up to Barnes and embracing him. Steve stood beside Bucky and nudged him in the back.

"Go on," he said. "You heard the lady."

"That was Fate."

"Apparently. And apparently Jarvis is real. Tony is touching him, see?"

"I see." No, he didn't feel jealous. Not really. "They're old friends."

"And you're his soulmate, Buck. Go on. He's waiting for you."

Stark backed off, and Jarvis… Edwin? He was standing where Fate left him, watching Bucky but making no move towards him. Bucky hesitantly took a step forward, and when his soulmate smiled, he jogged the rest of the way, halting half a foot away from him.

"I'm so sorry I didn't help you," Jarvis-or-Edwin said.

"No one could've helped me then," Bucky said. "Don't blame yourself." He hardly dared touch his soulmate, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

"But I'm here now."

"Yeah… What d'you want me to call you? Calling you by your last name seems wrong, but if you hate your first name—"

He smiled. "You can call me Edwin. I don't mind."

"Edwin." He touched the lapels of the coat, ran his hands down behind them and over his soulmate's chest. Edwin. "I wanna kiss you now—"

This time, he was interrupted by a mouth covering his. He wound his arms around the back of Edwin's neck, shivering as cold hands landed on his waist and tugged him closer. But the shock proved this was real. His soulmate was here, and it wasn't a dream. It couldn't be.

"Let's get you indoors," Steve said loudly, pulling them apart by the ears. "You'll catch your death out here, and I don't think Fate would be pleased about that."

"Yeah, let's go," Stark said. "On the way Jarvis can give us any information he has on HYDRA. When we get back to the tower, Barnes can take him up to his floor. Should I even bother designing separate living quarters for you, Jarvis?"

Edwin looked at him, and Bucky shook his head.

"No," Edwin said.

"I've got a spare room anyhow," Bucky added. "He can stay there `til he's ready."

"Until we're both ready," he said, and he squeezed Bucky's hand.

"Yeah." Bucky grinned, and leaned against his soulmate's side as they walked towards the car.

Surprise appearance from Fate! Kind of didn't mean for that to happen, except maybe in the very final chapter (whenever that will be), but intervention was necessary for a happy ending.

Also, I'm not going to list who's requested the pairings covered anymore, because I've missed noting the names for some of them, and it's not fair if I forget to mention the ones I do have noted down.

Please review!