Brooklyn, New York – 1942

"Do you think she'll like me?"

James Buchanan Barnes, better known to his friends as simply Bucky, paused in the middle of straightening his tie. "What?"

"Our girl. Do you think she'll like me?" Steven Rogers was in the bathroom across the hall from Bucky's room, twisting this way and that way to analyze his body in the mirror. Scrawny arms, skinny torso, wimpy jaw… He leaned in and searched his face, crinkling his nose at what he considered to be nearly rat-like features thanks to his size. It took everything in him not to scowl at his friend when Bucky's chiseled features appeared behind him in the reflection.

"Steve…"

"I mean it, Buck. What's she need me for when she's got a guy like you?" He couldn't help it as his voice filled with frustration. He wasn't daft- he saw the way the dames twisted in their seats to get a glimpse of Bucky. Half the time they didn't even register that he was there too until he spoke, and he was waiting for the day where they wouldn't notice even that anymore.

"Oh my- you have plenty to offer a woman, ya fathead!"

"What kind of a girl falls for a man who can't even fight for his own country?"

"Don't start this again…"

"It's true! And what happens if you meet her over there? You think she's gonna want to come home to meet the man who couldn't keep up with her other mark? I don't thi-"

"Steve, it's not gonna be like that at all, even if I find her first." Bucky interrupted him, knowing better than to let Steve tear himself apart for too long. "We've talked about this. She's going to love you, no matter what. Hell, that's part of the system! She wouldn't be yours too unless there was a good reason for it."

The smaller man released an exasperated breath and tried to reel his emotions back in. He was right, as always. It was so easy for him to doubt himself in any given situation, let alone one where he was pitted against Bucky. Seeing his friend's body loosen up again, he playfully nudged Steve.

"You can wow her with your artistic skills. Maybe draw a picture of her staring at me, drooling all over the place!" Steve snorted loudly at that and felt the rest of his doubts fall away (for now).

"If you're all she has to stare at, then I pity the poor gal!" The two men shared a laugh before Steve's gaze returned to the mirror. This time however he turned to see the words that delicately trailed along the curve of his right shoulder. The letters were big and bubbly, but slanted and messy in other places. He had always attributed such an odd combination to an artsy and well-educated woman. One who was bursting full of words and couldn't be bothered to keep them nice and neat because she just had too much to say.

Bucky followed suit and pulled down his collar to see the words that lined his left collarbone, in the exact same messy handwriting that decorated his friend's body. He, on the other hand, always thought of a feisty little dame with wild hair. He couldn't put a finger on exactly why he thought so, but the chaotic scrawl led him to picture long, long hair and a big smile. Most girls he knew chose the trendy short style lately, but he didn't think his girl would be the type to follow the crowd.

"I can't wait to meet her." Steve murmured, tracing the long slanted top of a 't' that flicked upwards at the end.

"Me too bud, me too." The taller man slowly ran his thumb across the letters once more before fixing his shirt and tie back into place. "But for now, let's go get a hot dog! I'm too hungry to be hearing about this again."

"No dates this time, please." He groaned in response, rolling his eyes as Bucky's smile only widened.

"How are we ever going to meet her if we never go out? Relax, it's fine, everyone dates before finding the one! That's how you find them to begin with."

"I don't know Buck, it just feels wrong."

"If it does, then she's not the one. Simple as that."

Marblehead, Ohio – 1998

Brenda hummed happily as she gently tugged down the birthday banner- an ugly, tacky, colorful abomination that for some reason Alice found wonderful. The birthday girl in question sat at the table beside her, quietly picking at a piece of cake. Her long ginger hair had long since fallen out of its elegant bun and was in great danger of getting dragged through blue frosting, but that was the last thing on her mind at the moment.

"Auntie, am I a slut?"

The older woman's head snapped to face her so quickly that she nearly fell off of the step stool. She regained her balance quickly but scrambled down to her niece's level, surprised at the young girl's choice of words.

"Of course not honey, what would make you say that? Where did you even hear that word? Was it that Psychic movie? Oh I KNEW you were too young for that!"

"No!" Alice shook her head adamantly, jutting her bottom lip out in a dramatic pout. "It's Psycho, and I'm twelve, so I'm old enough! I'm not a baby!"

Brenda scoffed, ready to lay down the law, but stopped when the redhead spoke up again, in a much softer and sadder tone.

"When Melanie was here earlier, s-she said her mom said I was a slut for having two marks. That it wasn't right, it was unnatural… Is that true?" Her voice broke as she felt the hot tears begin to prick at her eyes. She could still remember how people reacted last summer when she wore a two piece for the first time at the beach. One woman had assumed she had drawn one on herself, and spent almost five minutes lecturing her on how disrespectful it was.

"Am I- Is there something wrong with me?"

Her aunt lovingly shushed her and pulled her in close for a hug when she broke out into sobs. Alice gladly accepted the comforting gesture and folded herself into her arms. She said nothing and just continued rocking the young girl back and forth, letting her regain her bearings and waiting for her to speak up again.

"Are my marks why mommy only comes to see me on my birthday?" Her voice practically a whisper now, she looked up at the woman who had raised her nearly all her life. Brenda looked close to tears herself as she gently wiped away the tears that had made it down to her chin.

"No honey, not at all. Your mother…" She hesitated, not knowing how much she should say. "She does… very important work for the government. Sometimes dangerous work. She loves you very much, which is why you're here with me."

"She never says she loves me." Alice dropped her gaze and fiddled with the tablecloth. The brunette caught her hands and rubbed soft circles into her palms.

"Katherine has never been the greatest at expressing her feelings. I know it's hard, but I've known her for decades now. I've seen her at her weakest. I can tell when she's telling the truth and I can say that without a doubt, that she loves you. Her visits mean a lot to her."

A bit startled by her aunt's conviction, she looked in her eyes again and saw nothing but honesty. Brenda absolutely believed what she was saying. She bit back a new wave of tears. A constriction she hadn't noticed loosened its hold on her heart.

"And as for Melanie's mother, well that's just a bitch being a bitch."

"Auntie?!"

"Sorry, slip of the tongue- what I meant to say was that she just doesn't understand. People sometimes don't react well to new things. That doesn't make it acceptable or excusable, it just means that you shouldn't take what they say to heart. If anything you should pity people like Bernice, who is an adult who can't keep her damn opinions to herself-"

"Pity her?" Now THAT really threw Alice off. Why on earth would she pity the woman who spoke so cruelly, especially if she was wrong?

"Honestly Al, because she will never have what you will, and she will never be like you." Brenda smiled gently at the confused child in her arms. "You should pity her and the rest of us, because your marks prove that your capacity to love and the love you will receive is twofold compared to everyone else. She will never get to experience that and I think deep down she is jealous. You are special, sweetheart. There's a reason this is a rarity and I can promise it's not a bad thing. You are a very lucky girl, and your soul mates are even luckier to have you."

She didn't realize it until her aunt was finished speaking, but she had instinctively gone to touch both of her marks. Her right hand traced the neat, even lettering that curved along the indentations of her left ribs. She was often envious of it- it was very careful and precise and easy to read, unlike her own girly looking chicken scratch. On her right side, her other hand skimmed across her forearm where another mark stood as a stark contrast against her pale skin. These words were written as though in a rush, nearly illegible at points with a sharpness to some of the lettering. The two men, based on their marks, could not be more different, but she had always had the strange hunch that they somehow knew each other.

"Auntie… Do you think…" She took a deep breath, then let the hardest question of all escape. "Do you think that they'll love me? As much as you say they will?"

"Oh honey," Brenda squeezed her hands and gave her a bright smile. "I think they already do."