Sorry for the long absence. My life got busy and my muse went on vacation I think. She's finally back, and I'm working on finishing up stories that have languished on my laptop for far too long!

Quick note on this story: Soul-Mark AU, but let's assume that you are born with your mark, no matter when your soulmate is born. :)

Bucky slouched on the sidewalk, legs tucked up under him, arms crossed and hands hidden, keeping watch. Steve had left the building fifteen minutes ago in the company of a brunette Bucky didn't know, they could be back soon. And sure enough, there they were. Both their hands full of coffees, but the woman still gestured wildly, trying to make a point with one hand. He was too far away to hear their conversation, but her face was animated and Steve was grinning. Finally, Steve rescued both coffees from the girl before she could spill them, and she continued her rant free-handed.

His eyes should be on Steve. Figuring out how to make his approach, what words he'll be able to choke out, when the right time to turn himself in is. But his eyes kept tracking back to her. Her dark brown hair tumbled down her back, eyes flashing with passion at the words tumbling from her red painted lips. The stirrings of feelings he hadn't experienced in years coursed through his veins and before he could decide to do anything, they ducked back inside the glass and steel monstrosity they lived and worked in.

Bucky had been tracking his old friend's movements for weeks, and finally decided that the early morning run was his best bet for a peaceful, casualty free surrender. Steve ran the same route every morning, so Bucky waited by a tree, his head down, arm pulled up inside the sweatshirt to hide the metal of his hand. When Steve came around the corner, all he had to do was push off from the tree and stand in the way, Steve did the rest.

Of course, he was expecting holding rooms and interrogations, probably chains and armed guards. He should have known better though, Steve was a softy through and through. They walked the park for a while while Steve questioned him and Bucky replied with nods and shakes of his head, sometimes a word or phrase when he could push them out past the remaining compulsion. Then Steve slung an arm around his shoulders and guided him to the Tower. 'Home' he said and Bucky felt tears prick his eyes at the word.

The elevator finally stopped up high and Steve gave him a gentle push to help him out into the expansive living area. "Let's get some food and then we'll see about a shower for you, 'kay?" Bucky couldn't do anything but nod and hope the rest of the occupants of the Tower were busy elsewhere.

Steve led them to a massive kitchen where the same dark haired young woman from weeks earlier was standing in front of the stove. "You're late Captain Spangles," she announced without turning around. "I'm tempted to give your share to Thor this morning."

Steve cleared his throat meaningfully and she turned around, spatula still in hand. "Oh!"

"Bucky, this is Darcy. Darcy, Bucky." Steve glanced between the two of them as if this meeting was a portent for things to come. As Darcy goes, so goes the Tower or something like that.

"Hello Bucky. Welcome home," Darcy said with an honest smile, greeting him as if he were something other than what he really was.

Something inside Bucky twisted, his heart pounded almost painfully and for a split second, his left forearm tingled, like the moment right before a sunburn, but then it was gone and it was just a hunk of metal and wires again. Words were in his head, but he couldn't find his voice, so he just nodded at her. Glancing at Steve, he saw Steve's eyes widen slightly and he looked back and forth between Bucky and Darcy with an indecipherable look.

"Buck has some trouble finding words sometimes," Steve finally apologized on Bucky's behalf.

"No worries. I can talk enough for two people!" She shrugged slightly, and the blue sweater she was wearing slipped off one creamy shoulder that Bucky had a hard time not staring at. She turned back to the stove, busying herself with plates before handing two of them to Steve with a smile. "Go eat! We'll swap life stories later."

Steve handed off a plate to Bucky, who looked down at a plate almost overflowing with fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, diced fried potatoes and toast dripping with butter. The Soldier ate to live, but nothing that ever tasted good. And since he had been Bucky again, he lived on the handouts of others, none of which ever smelled as amazing as this hot plate in his hands. As Bucky contemplated the beauty of the food in front of him, Steve hugged Darcy with one arm, kissing her on the top of the head.

"You're a doll, Darce. Thank you."

"Of course. Now, get to your apartment and eat before he falls headfirst into that plate!" she chided, her eyes on Bucky. He raised his own eyes from the plate to meet hers, giving her a small nod in thanks. She grinned at him, all teeth and lips and light, and Bucky's heart did a stutter step in his chest before he dropped his eyes again.

When Bucky finally emerged from Steve's rooms after a week or so of non-stop eating, sleeping and showering, Darcy was the first to accept him, quickly settling into a pattern of one-sided conversations. She would talk about something for a while, ask him a question, pause for a breath, and then answer the question herself, all without the slightest hint she was bothered by his never-ending silence. Most of the other occupants of the Tower had quickly gotten bored of his near muteness, not quite avoiding him, but not seeking out his presence either. Darcy however, seemed to have a sixth sense about where he was and would show up out the blue, plop down next to him and begin a conversation in mid stream about music or movies or the political state of Bolivia.

After one month of living in the Tower, Bucky started to meet with Sam twice a week. Bucky and Steve started sparring together in the gym every morning, and Steve dragged him along to team-building movie nights and dinners. Words were coming easier now, he could have full conversations with Steve, and once the flood-gates opened with Sam, he couldn't seem to shut up during their times together. His words with the rest of the Avengers were still few and far between, but a nod or a shake of his head seemed to be just fine. At the two month mark, Clint invited him down to the long-range practice area, where the two of them would sit in silence for hours, staring down the scopes of their sniper rifles, making perfect hit after perfect hit. His reticence had just become a quirk on the team, like Tony's bad music choices or Bruce's yoga moves.

He still had yet to say one single word to Darcy though. He had started to actually listen to her ramblings though, not just tolerate the noise. He began to nod or shake his head in response to her questions, which, to her credit, she just took in stride. He even huffed out a laugh a few times, which earned him another of her light-up-the-rooms grins and a poke in the ribs.

He knew Steve would eventually bring it up, and was actually surprised that he managed to wait an impressive three months before it became too much. Bucky came back to the massive apartment he and Steve shared to find Steve sitting on the couch, tv off, just waiting.

"Hey Buck."

"Punk," Bucky said in reply, sitting down in the chair facing his best friend.

"Okay, I want to ask you something, and I don't want you to be upset if you don't remember it."

"My mark?" Bucky answered, holding out his metal arm, exposing his forearm where the words had been back before he fell. Before Hydra.

Steve blew out a breath. "You do remember."

"Took a while. But, yeah, I remember."

"Do you know..." Steve didn't seem to be able to finish the words. Bucky thought about letting him twist in the wind, but decided to be kind.

"I know she said them. I felt it." The words came out in a hushed voice.

"Have you said hers?"

Bucky shook his head. "Haven't seem 'em, don't know what they are. Figure it'll come out when the time is right."

"Alright. I just wanted..."

"I know, punk. You're a busy-body matchmaker." Bucky grinned at his oldest friend, who smiled in reply.

As it turned out, Bucky didn't have to wait much longer for the right time. Words were so much easier for him, there were days when he almost said something to her, almost replied to one of her many questions. But the knowledge that those words were forever written on her skin stopped him on numerous occasions. In the end, he didn't even really think about it when he finally spoke. The words just tumbled from his lips as she rambled on about Jane and work and papers and quantum theory.

"I love you, Darcy."

She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth closing with an audible click. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, first the realization that he had actually spoken to her, then the meaning of his words, and finally, the understanding that those were her words. Slowly, she pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing his words to her, inscribed in his scrawling cursive along her inner forearm.

I love you, Darcy.

He smiled at her, his hand reaching out to gently touch the words on her arm. She reached down and curled her hand around his.

"What did I say to you?" Her voice was probably the quietest he had ever heard.

"You said, 'Hello Bucky. Welcome home'. I remember those words. They were right here." He turned his metal arm up, and brought their clasped hands to touch the metal where the words had been when that part had been flesh and blood. "I'm sorry I don't have them anymore."

"Doesn't matter. You've got me." She grinned that radiant smile that he loved so much. "Oh, and I totally love you too!"

Bucky leaned over the counter to kiss his girl for the first time. It was pretty much perfect.

"You sure about this?"

"Stevie, you're the only one in this room who is nervous about this plan."

"I don't want to mess it up."

"You won't. I trust you."

Two hours later, it was done, and mostly healed already. Bucky wiped off the last of the ink and blood and headed down to the labs to find Darcy. She was clacking away on the computer, headphones in, generally ignoring the world and Bucky took the opportunity to watch her for a moment. She finally noticed him in the doorway and was about to stand up when he turned his right arm over to show her. There, on the inside of his arm, exactly where they had once been on his left, Steve had carefully tattooed the words in Darcy's handwriting.

Hello Bucky. Welcome home.