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“Fucking bloody ouch!” Bill exclaimed at the dinner table, covering his nose with both hands.
Tears pooled in his eyes, and he knew the twins were going to tease him mercilessly. What annoyed him more was that his mom was smiling ear to ear at his pain.
“It's happening, isn't it? You have a soulmate! Oh, Bill, we're so happy for you!”
Bill couldn't say he was. His nose looked as perfectly fine as always, thank Merlin for small mercies, but he'd felt every ache of that broken nose, including when it was violently reset. His soulmate could be a bit more careful with their face knowing the pain was shared… or maybe they hadn't realized they had a soulmate? After all, with a mother hovering as much as his, Bill couldnt say he'd gotten hurt badly until now.
Over the years, Bill debated hurting himself on purpose just to get the message across. Whoever was at the other end of his soulbond was either a masochist, a dragon wrestler, or enjoyed walking into the path of the knight bus. However, Bill figured he'd get hit by a bludger or a stray spell eventually, sending word of his existence across the soulbond.
Brock thought he was alone in the world, so he took it out on everyone. Witnessing the pain of soulbonds blossoming all around him was like a constant slap in the face. How was it fair? Only a tiny fraction of the world didn't have a soulmate, so of course he was cursed to be one of them.
Bill covered his nose with both hands during his interview with Gringotts. Thankfully, he had learned to hold his tears and his tongue when his annoyingly clumsy soulmate got hurt, otherwise, the goblins would have taken it as a personal insult and thrown him out, or worse. As it was, the three goblins facing him merely scowled, more than usual that is, and continued on with their endless questions.
“Again?” his mother asked when he recounted how his job interview had gone.
Her mother inspected his nose, satisfied when it was as before, then did that thing with her mouth that meant she was displeased. Well, she could get in line. He was pretty pissed off too.
“She should be more careful. Even magic can only heal so much. A twice broken nose?” she tsk-tsked as she returned to the kitchen, leaving him with his dad.
“You should find them, son. I know your mother believes they will appear as if by magic when it's meant to be, but to be honest-” he glanced at the kitchen door and lowered his voice. “Our meeting wasn't as much of an accident as she likes to think.”
Bill stared at his father in shock. Arthur Weasley, a cunning Slytherin at heart? Who would have thought?
However, Gringotts was quick to hire him, so he knew he wouldn't have time to go search for his wayward soulmate. On the other hand, as a newly minted curse-breaker, he couldn't afford to have pain sent over the soulbond as often since it could interfere with his job. It was time to send a message across, say hello to his soulmate, so to speak, and he knew just who to go to for that.
Brock was on one of those mission that didn't officially exist, doing things that were hard to justify, but he wasn't a good guy anyway, so he might as well do wrong things for the right reasons.
However, just as he had a target in his sights, he folded in two from a blow in the stomach. He tucked and rolled immediately, crouching in a dark corner as he searched for who or what had just attacked him.
No one. The room was as empty and secured as before. Did that mean…?
His cheek smarted next. He knew the feeling well, and he grinned. It was secondhand pain from his soulbond! He had a soulmate! His smile fell. Oh, God… his soulmate was getting beat up…
Ever since Charlie had agreed, with little convincing on his part, to give him a good beating for the good cause, his soulmate had finally began to be careful around blades, fists, flames, and what he was pretty sure was guns.
Bill used the reprieve to quickly advance in his professional career. As soon as he could reasonably do so, he would take a leave of absence from his post to search for his soulmate. His mother was probably right in thinking they would find each other given enough time, but given the physical nature of the wounds his soulmate received, especially the gunshots, Bill suspected they were a Muggle or lived amongst the Muggles, which meant they had little to no chance from meeting on accident, or not for a very, very long time, which simply wouldn't do. He didn't want to wait until his hair was grey and they only had a few years remaining to be with his soulmate.
And then the war threw a wrench in his plans.
Someone out there was his soulmate. This someone could be anyone. Brock could leave everything to fate, like most people did, but given the recent plans HYDRA was putting in place, how much faith could he put in them to spare his other half.
It could be anyone, and no one was safe from Project Insight. He was starting to regret getting involved with HYDRA, but at the time, he'd had nothing to lose.
However, leaving HYDRA was easier said than done. Brock knew he had changed since feeling his soulmate’s pain, but he thought he hid it well enough. HYDRA had eyes and ears everywhere though. No one was above suspicion, not even one of their best guard dogs, so he had to walk a fine line, pretend he was still one of them until he could dip out.
As bad as things were, Bill always found comfort in knowing his soulmate was out there. It was a small piece of hope to hang onto during the darkest times.
Even when Fenrir Greyback made mincemeat of his face, he knew at least one person would accept him as he was: disfigured and with a preference for very rare meat. At least he wasn't howling at the moon. That was something. But if his soulmate had felt the pain of the werewolf’s claws digging into him, Bill hoped against hope he hadn't felt the curse that had burned through his veins for the next three days.
His soulmate was burning, burning, burning… For three days the debilitating pain put his tolerance to the test. Brock was barely functional and as angry as a rabid dog, both because of the pain and from knowing his soulmate had it worse. He was going to kill whoever was responsible, or better yet, hurt them until they begged for death.
“Rumlow! It's time,” his HYDRA overseer announced out of the blue.
On second thought, this was the absolute best time to take a stand and sabotage Project Insight. Maybe he could talk to Captain Goody-Two-Shoes and loop him in, make the best of an apocalyptic situation.
An impossible choice. The war was still raging around him, his family and friends lives were at stake, but he'd just felt pain worse than Greyback’s claws raking against his skull. It was like his soulmate had been crushed under a bloody building. Every bone, tendon, and muscle ached, and for so long, he had to be benched for a while.
How could he let others fight in his stead?
How could he let his soulmate suffer without him?
He couldn't leave, he would never forgive himself, so he would just have to hate himself for abandoning his soulmate when he needed him most.
Brock was in a world of pain, but he deserved it for all the suffering he'd caused in his life. Karma was a bitch, but a fair one.
When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to see the Captain's sidekick... Something bird related… Didn't matter.
“We did it?” Brock asked.
“Sure did. Got those motherfuckers down. Got a bit banged up in the process, but it was worth it.”
“Tell that to my face,” he groaned. “Do I even have a face left?”
“You were ugly as sin before, it won't make much of a difference,” the birdman said with a sympathetic smile.
Fuck him and his pity.
“You're crap at comforting people. Go away.”
“Alright, alright. But I'll be next door with Cap if you need me.”
Captain America in the hospital? That was unheard of. Did a building land on him too? He was supposed to be on one of the helicarriers. Didn't he jump off before it crashed? Oh, well. Fuck him too. He probably looked great in a hospital bed, damn him.
What really worried Brock now was all the pain he'd inflicted on his soulmate. Why would they ever want to meet him after all that? And broken as he was now, what did Brock have to offer? No, the best thing he could do was stay the hell away from his soulmate. He was nothing but trouble.
A year later, Brock was still in reeducation, learning to walk like a damn baby, and growing bitter by the day. Sam visited often to see him. He was actually a better person than Captain America who only came to grill him about the Winter Soldier. Reformed, the Cap insisted, but Brock had seen him, as deadly as he was empty, so he doubted it very much.
“You've got a visitor, Rumlow,” his nurse told him with a smug smile. “Could have told me all your friends were that handsome, I would have put make-up on.”
“You'd need a bucket of it, Gladys. Who is it this time? Another SHIELD agent? Or one of those vultures from the press?”
Everyone loved interrogating him, but they did it politely despite his former association with HYDRA since he was such good pals with the Captain now.
“Doubt it. They don't dress that well.”
Brock shrugged, telling her to let them in. He was bored anyway. Maybe he could make this unsuspecting visitor cry like the last two.
However, he was not prepared for the man who walked in. He was stunning, and Brock wasn't that easy to impress, not with Captain Perfect inflicting his godly physique on him far too often. But from the flaming, long red hair, to the fancy dark tweed suit, the ornate cane he leaned on for a limp, and those impressive scars on his face, like he'd been mauled by a bear… he was breathtaking.
His guest was staring at him too, cataloguing his injuries, and what was left of his former self. Then, he unexpectedly flipped the heavy looking cane, and, with a smile, swung it in the air, and bashed himself in the shin. The pain hit him in the shin too, at exactly the same time and place. Brock’s mouth dropped open in shock.
He was his soulmate? What had he done to deserve someone like him? Was this a cruel remake of the Beauty and the Beast? His life was a fucking joke.
“There are better ways to introduce yourself, love,” Brock finally said, his voice even more gravelly than usual.
“Seeing as you introduced yourself with a broken nose, I think I'm being pretty considerate,” he replied without missing a beat.
What a smooth talking bastard. Yeah, they were going to get along just fine.