Part Two
He was the third wheel of a contentious surveillance group. Stopping Supes from drug trafficking was not technically illegal, after all.
Hughie would like to say it didn’t take him long to learn Frenchie and M.M. were mutual soulmates (Butcher had probably mentioned it), but he would be lying. Hughie was probably not the best person for a stakeout. Sometimes he would lose time, stopped mid-task, not knowing what he was doing.
Like when Hughie was holding a piece of camera he didn’t remember taking apart, listening to Frenchie and M.M. talk about French philosophers.
“And Monique trusts you, even if you are not soulmates?” Frenchie scoffed. “This is why bonds are so important- there can be nothing without trust.”
“Don’t act like Cherie and you don’t go out of your guy’s way to find someone else to sleep with-”
“We are free to explore.” Frenchie was unbothered by the accusation. “But we cannot lie to each other, which is more than you have in your marriage.”
“Soulmates can lie to each other.” Hughie piped up from the back. He didn’t know what made him speak up, but he regretted it. He didn’t want their focused attention on him, not when he was barely acting normal.
Frenchie and M.M. turned to look at him, as if they had forgotten he was there. Hughie felt oddly uncomfortable with the attention, but kept pushing onwards.
“Butcher told me he was a F.B.I. agent the first time he met me.” Hughie felt his mouth go dry. “Plus, Robin and Sam used to lie to each other all the time about little things.”
“Ah,” Frenchie rubbed his stubble. “I cannot speak for Sam and your soulmate, but Butcher was not lying about being an F.B.I. agent., he has worked for the F.B.I. before, as well as the C.I.A., N.S.A.-”
“New York’s Finest, several sheriffs’ departments, he was a P.I.,” M.M. continued on.
“Branches of the Military, Homeland Security, British Secret Service-” Frenchie started listing them on his fingers.
“I get it.” Hughie said. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t lie.”
“Actually, it does.” M.M. said. “I bet he showed you his old I.D., told you he was with the F.B.I. and you assumed the I.D. was current, right?”
Hughie’s memory of that night was pretty focused on the feeling of Butcher’s hands gripping his hips like hot brands and general terror, but-
“Yeah.”
Frenchie made a slight gesture- as if to say, “There you go.”
“How does that work then?” Hughie asked.
“It does not stop you from physically lying.” Frenchie said. “It just makes you feel slightly sick.”
“Which bounces through the bond until both of you feel awful.” M.M. rubbed his forehead. “But honesty should be a choice, making someone be honest doesn’t make them more trustworthy.”
Frenchie raised both eyebrows, but his attention was caught by something. Hughie noticed M.M. went silent as Frenchie’s attention was caught, watching him. It was an intense look, like M.M. was staring down the barrel of a gun. Frenchie had his complete attention.
“Noodle guy is packing.” Frenchie said, stepping out of the car.
Hughie put the camera piece down, before getting out of the van. Frenchie and M.M. didn’t seem inclined to stop him, so Hughie assumed he was doing whatever it was correctly.
Which was walking down the street in the most obvious and attention grabbing way possible.
Kimiko wasn’t quite sure how her superstrength worked. Despite her newfound talent for disemboweling, there were physical sensations that didn’t quite make sense.
For one, she didn’t feel pain, or if she did, not in the way she expected.
When she was younger, she had her foot run over by some sort of thing. (Four wheels and an engine- she still couldn’t decide if it was a tank, truck, car- ect.) It had hurt, in an all-consuming way. She had stubbed her toe and the pain was brief- but took the whole of her attention.
Now- now was different. She had almost escaped in the beginning. She remembers the sound of a machine gun going off and a-a-a- a pressure against her back. It was harder than rain, but softer than the stones Kenji used to throw at her to get her attention when they were working on the beach.
The bullets, she felt them- but she didn’t feel them.
Suddenly, it was the little things that caused pain. Kimiko’s nose burned from the scent of her nail polish. Her fingers tingled and felt like they were rubbed raw by certain fabrics. It was not until she was bathed in sweat and blood and dirt that the fabric ceased hurting against her skin.
And her head hurt.
It was a never ceasing pressure of NOISE NOISE NOISE. It only eased when she turned on the TV. Somehow, her brain took in the extra stimuli and broke it down into small pieces, letting her manage multiple sounds the way she had once managed a single sound.
Music was the best.
Music had sound and beats and tempos. Out of many different systems occurring- one overarching theme was made. Music made the most sense out of everything. She found once the TV was turned on, she could not turn it off. Feelings, depression, anxiety, pain- they slid away.
She could almost forget about the loss of her soul.
The music also helped her hear other things in her cell. She could hear different languages throughout the building. She could hear the hum of electricity and the pressure of water against metal pipes.
She could hear conversations.
She could also hear the sound of people who were not supposed to be in the basement with her.
Having a conversation about her outside the door.
She didn’t react. She didn’t move. She let the words wash over her.
I think we should let her go.
Kimiko’s heart sped up. Her breathing didn’t hitch, she made no move to acknowledge them until the door creaked open.
Kimiko was planning on knocking them out and moving on with her life, until the sound of scrambling feet hit the floor.
And they opened fire on her and her (unwitting) accomplices.
Bullets wouldn’t hurt Kimiko, but they would hurt the idiots who opened the door- and the shooters had done far worse than shoot at her.
They had separated her from her brother and her soul.
Fuckers.
One leap and she had broken a neck, a few jabs and she had perforated a stomach. She didn’t even notice the way her hands were gummy and sticky with blood. All she had was rage and a general need to murder.
Which is why it was disappointing to see her last target shoot himself in the head.
She knew the people who had freed her had probably seen too much. She raced after them.
Only for them to lock themselves in her cell.
Okay. Well, she had places to be. She would leave them for another time, but every step she took away made her feel like there was a little less breath in her lungs.
MNVM
Butcher arrived with fanfare, as always. Frenchie looked around the cage as he ignored Butcher’s non-reassuring reassurances to his young soulmate. Frenchie respected every person’s ability to make their own choices- whether it was Jay with his drugs, Cherie with her consulting/drug/weapon trade- or M.M. with his 9 to 5 life. He was not completely sure Butcher wasn’t trying to scare Hughie off.
When Frenchie took in a new person, he always paid particular attention to their living space. It would tell you quite a bit about a person- how they set up the way they lived. It was part of, Frenchie thought, why home was so important. You needed somewhere to showcase your life, someplace where things could be honored.
The bed was made- it did not look slept in. There was one bottle of nail polish. Frenchie kept the bottle. He felt a light pressure where the birthmark on his head used to be as he held it. The more he examined the bottle, the more connected he felt to it. He rolled it between his palms for a moment, feeling a rush of something. Frenchie had been high before, but this-
This was like an echo of something holy. He held the bottle tight in his hand and looked around the room.
He knelt down under the table.
He wanted to roll in the feeling he felt there. It was so pure. He picked up the blanket and folded it up, pressing it to his chest.
And underneath was the burnt out stub of a ticket.
He wandered out of the cell, still clutching the blanket when he remembered M.M. was generally a cunt.
“You never follow the plan.”
Frenchie nearly snarled at him. It brought him back to himself for a second. Why would it matter? But the principle of the thing remained. If you see a prisoner, you free a prisoner.
But since M.M. and his soulmate were army lackies, he would have to find another way of saying it.
“I had a feeling about her.” Frenchie said. He clutched the blanket tighter. He felt Butcher’s eyes on his knuckles and the way they twisted in the blanket.
“A feeling?” Butcher asked. “Did she say anything?” Frenchie heard the question within the question. Was she one of his soulmates? As far as Frenchie knew, he had no other words.
“She didn’t say a word.” M.M. said. His eyes were wary, but there seemed to be a light of understanding. “Do you have-?”
“It is just a feeling.” Frenchie ground out. “She is innocent, that is all.”
“Uh, huh.” M.M. kept his gaze steady on Frenchie’s face and Frenchie wished he could just look away.
And then Hughie’s phone went off.
The following conversation was a bit more heated than Frenchie expected. Hughie was defensive, Butcher was calm- but underneath it all, Frenchie could sense a rising tension.
Which was the problem when monogamy was a cultural tradition instead of a choice between consenting parties. M.M. gave Frenchie a look and Frenchie remembered why he loved M.M..
You think they’ve said a damn word about the whole relationship? M.M. tilted his eyebrow.
Oh, no. They couldn’t do that. Frenchie said with a roll of his eyes. Why be clear when you can be jealous?
“You’re going.” Butcher said with finality. Which surprised everyone in the room. Hughie’s mouth was open, M.M.’s eyebrows were both raised. Frenchie read the tension in Butcher’s shoulders. The way his hands shook said more than words ever could-
Butcher laid out the plan. Hot-mic the girl’s phone, listen in on the supes. It was a good assignment. It was useful and not particularly dangerous. Only a psychopath would hurt Hughie as he was- gentle and unassuming. Frenchie knew dangerous people- people who hurt over the slightest insult. He did not think this Annie was one of them.
But Frenchie had seen the roots of Butcher’s hair the other day- and they were white.
Homelander had looked harmless, as this Starlight likely looked harmless. Butcher had thought nothing of his soulmate working at Vought. It was killing Butcher to tell Hughie to put himself out there- to give Hughie a direction and purpose for the grief that was so close to taking over Hughie’s life.
But Frenchie knew, watching Hughie, that it was either give Hughie a target or watch as Hughie slowly lost the will to live and move. Butcher would always sacrifice himself for his soulmate.
Always.
But Hughie couldn’t read Butcher yet. The fear Hughie saw, Frenchie knew, would be seen as jealousy. The forced calm would be taken as apathy.
“She’s not a bad person.”
Frenchie thought Butcher would take the whole thing back in that moment, but he underestimated Butcher.
His voice was soft, gentle in warning. Everything about Butcher and Hughie’s relationship seemed to be based on Butcher forcing Hughie forward, forcing him to care- but Frenchie had never seen Butcher tell Hughie the truth gently before.
“She’s a supe, just like the rest of them.” Butcher said.
Frenchie didn’t know what Hughie heard, but Frenchie heard the warning of a man who lost his wife to a strength Billy Butcher couldn’t overcome with sheer anger and determination. It was fear of a person who made Billy Butcher work in the shadows.
And a feeling of doom pierced his high- ever so slightly. He felt the sudden urge to call Cherie. He opened his cell phone without looking at it, and held it to his ear. Butcher was sending Hughie off with a smile.
AVAVAVAVAV
Kimiko starts for the nail salon. Its clean and shiny. She remembers looking at the woman’s hair and miming needing a brush. The woman had laughed at her, but that woman had taken the money from her handlers. She had directed the driver. Kimiko could find her way back from the nail salon.
She could also peel the scalp off the woman counting money as well.
MNMMN
She was covered in blood. She was dirty. She was dirty. She was dirty. She was at the station. She needed to find some music. She needed to calm down. She needed for her skin to fit around her again.
There were TVs in a store a few feet back. Kimiko turned her feet and walked towards the back. She knew pulled up a table, ignoring the person behind the counter. He ignored her as well. It was what people did. They ignored her.
Or they screamed.
She watched the TV as her body settled into itself, and she almost fell asleep.
Then her mind focused. The world was bright and manageable. Kimiko felt a layer of calm go through her, like she was about to race her brother over the beach.
A pair of legs came int view. A gas canister was in his hand.
Kimiko needed to run but couldn’t bring herself to move.
Kimiko had less than two seconds to objectively describe her soulmate before he spoke the words, and it wasn’t enough time for her brain to think anything but RUN.
Afterward, her soulmate defied description. She was aware she was sleep deprived, drugged, dirty, and didn’t have his words anymore.
It didn’t matter. He said the words that she used to have- and Kimiko would rather be the girl who had the words than act as if the words never mattered.
Her soulmate spoke low. He explained what he thought the situation was, explained how he understood. Kimiko liked his voice, she liked how his English sounded slightly different than everyone else’s. She would have to ask him if he was French or Italian or Spanish.
He wasn’t going to hurt her.
So she took his hand when he held it out.
Damn Butcher. Hughie thought. Damn Butcher to whatever hell he crawled out of. Hughie cradled his head in his hands as he waited for Butcher’s emotions to pass. Annie was prancing from foot to foot holding a glass of water.
He had been mid-bowl and suddenly the headache had hit him like a train wreck. He had collapsed and was hoping no one called an ambulance.
“I’m fine.” Hughie said. “Soulmate headache, I’m fine.”
“Oh.” Annie said. It took Hughie a minute to remember Supes didn’t have soulmates.
“It’s not romantic.” Hughie said. Just sexual. “No worries, I’m not cheating or anything.”
Annie’s shoulders relaxed, but Hughie could still see the questioning tilt to her head.
“Should I have asked him before I took you out?” Annie asked. “I mean he must be upset if you are getting a headache from-”
“No, god, no.” Hughie shuddered at the very idea. “Why would you do that? He has a stressful job, he’s not upset with me or anything.”
“It was considered good manners in my hometown.” Annie said, waving a hand. “You know, making sure everything was peaceful in the house before you stepped on any toes.”
“Yeah, no that sounds extremely weird to me.” Hughie said. “Here you only meet the soulmates if- well, its kind of like meeting the parents.”
“Ah.” Annie said. She sat down on the bench next to Hughie, the sounds of the alley washing over them. “I never dated anyone who had met their soulmate before.”
“Soulmates.” Hughie winced. “I’ve met two, one unknown.”
“Ah,” Annie seemed uncomfortable. “So you’re-”
“Still monogamous.” Hughie said, dryly. He watched Annie’s shoulders relax. “Have you never met someone with more than one.”
“I am making this awkward, aren’t I?” Annie moaned into her hands. “I’m so sorry. I am sure I have, but people don’t generally tell me these things. Even in school, they just assume I don’t need to know.”
Hughie nodded. “Well, then. Ask away. Five minutes, any question you like.”
“Does it feel good?” Annie blurted out. Her face turned red. “Like I know stuff is pretty intense without the soulmark, but like does it even make a difference-”
“Ah, yeah.” Hughie said. “I mean, it’s not better. I went out with a few people before meeting my soulmates. There is just an extra layer to it all.” Hughie bumped shoulders with Annie. She let herself be moved a few centimeters. “Like kissing isn’t better, you just have a better idea of how to kiss. Same with soulmates- relationships aren’t better, you just know a little more than you thought you did. I guess touching is a little more intense. You get a feedback loop. Like if I am happy, they feel happy and if they are happy, I feel happy.”
“I don’t know any of this stuff.” Annie said. “They try and make us seem like these worldly people who have chosen to be blank, but in all honestly we are just guessing. Its like running around with a blindfold on.”
“That what they are having you do at the Expo?” Hughie asked, referencing an earlier part of the conversation.
“Yeah.” Annie looked sick. “I always hated when soulmates are brought up. The AoG isn’t going to be at this one, thank god, but there will probably still be a few there, since the Church of the Collective-”
“Yeah.” Hughie shuddered. “Friend of mine almost got picked up by some of their guys the other day.”
Annie looked concerned. “Did you call it in?”
“No. She would just be arrested for like, being on the street bothering them or something.” Hughie shrugged.
Annie wrapped her arms around herself. “They’ve tried to get me to a couple of their parties. I only went once, but that was enough.”
“Fancy.” Hughie teased. “Did you match up with anyone?”
“I left before I could find out.” Annie smiled. “What about you, ever go to one of the events?”
Hughie burst out into laughter.
“What?” Annie asked, smiling at Hughie.
“Nothing. Its nothing.” Hughie said, trying to breath. “Just, I am not rich enough, or important enough, to be invited as a sponsor- and I’m not poor enough, or handsome enough, to be considered a viable candidate for a cougar.”
“I don’t know about that.” Annie looked him up and down.
“Hey, calm down there tiger.” Hughie took a sip of his beer. “I’m not desperate. That’s what AoG looks for- the sad saps who-” Hughie bit off the next part of the sentence.
“Yeah.” Annie said, a bit flatly. “Still, seems a bit strange to think some words on your skin give you the perfect romantic partner.”
He had offended her, great. “Its not.” Hughie swallowed the lump in his throat. “Its not perfect or romantic.” Then the words came pouring out of him.
“I share two soulmates with this older woman, right? I’m living with her and one of our mutual soulmates while I am working on this job. Its fine- but these two don’t talk to each other. They won’t have sex either. They just kind of circle each other. The soulmate we share- he tries to help her, but he’s trying not to chase her off at the same time- because she’s not got anywhere else to go, but she will live on the streets if she has too.” Hughie babbled, suddenly eager to talk to someone who doesn’t know Butcher or Sam, who doesn’t know his relationship with Butcher.
Annie looked at him skeptically.
“The AoG really did try and pick her up, its happened before.” Hughie said.
“Sounds like a fireball.” Annie comments. She settles into her seat.
Hughie scrunches up his nose. “Not really? She’s more like a high school bully. The one you double time step by in the cafeteria.”
MNNMNVM
Kimiko had to get the man in the goggles away from her soulmate. It was her only goal. She raced down the tunnel, dodging people and- he had her by the head.
Sometimes, the world went dark for Kimiko. She didn’t quite understand why, but she would exit the world, and then come back to know the world was different.
The man with the goggles did that to her many times.
She heard her soulmate shout, the world grew dark.
And she woke up with a small child staring at her.
“Hello.” The small child said in a loud voice. Kimiko winced. She signed “Hello” back. The child copied her. “Everyone is yelling in the front room.” The child yelled. “I am not allowed to listen.”
Kimiko winced and covered her ears. Why was there a child in the room. Ugh. She needed a bath.
As did the child, who stunk of river water and piss. Kimiko’s hands and feet were clean though.
The child started whispering when she saw Kimiko cover her ears, or at least the child’s version of whispering- which was speaking slightly loudly to everyone else.
“I came back with my new mama.” The child said. “But she thinks she isn’t my new mama. She’s the one in charge.
Then she probably isn’t your mama. Kimiko thought. She didn’t particularly like children. Why was she here?
There was a feeling of rightness in her bones, though. Kimiko knew she was in the right area, though she wasn’t quite sure if she knew why she was in the right area. She closed her eyes and listened. There was a beep. Then Kimiko took a deep breath and smelt it.
Coffee.
Kimiko pushed her way towards the sound, ignoring the small child that grabbed onto the back of her shirt, sliding behind her on socks too big for her.
There was coffee within reach. She stopped for a minute, feeling slightly odd. Her brother was missing, she was far from home- but somehow she was content. There was coffee, her soul was at peace.
“Good morning-” Kimiko turned and saw her soulmate standing in the doorway, face pale and eyes wide.
“CHERIE!” Her soulmate yelled. There was a long French soliloquy after that, but he continued to gesture to the child as a woman drenched in rainwater came to stand by him.
The child, on the other hand, screamed- “Mama!”
Her soulmate fainted. The woman looked at her directly in the eye-
“This is not my child.”
Kimiko nodded, she believed her.