Chapter Text
Jeremy first learnt about the Marks when he was three or four.
He was sitting on the couch, watching as, before his eyes, an ugly purple mark bloomed on his arm. “Mummy! Why do I keep getting these? They’re not there, and then they are! I haven’t done nothing to get a bruise,” he pouted.
His mother looked at his proffered arm and then turns so she’s facing him on the couch. She reaches out and runs her fingers over the mark. “Darling, these marks mean that somewhere in the world you have a soulmate.”
“What does that mean?”
She paused, probably trying to find a way to explain soulmates that her young son would understand. “A soulmate is a person who is just for you. They are someone that is perfect for you and the two of you will love each other more than anyone else.”
“Is daddy your soulmate?”
His mother smiled warmly, “yes he is.”
Jeremy frowned, looking back at the mark. “But why are they only there sometimes? Does that mean my soulmate loves other people as well? And why does it hurt? Is it because I didn’t know to love them?”
His mother’s smile faded slightly, and she pulled Jeremy onto her lap, no parent likes introducing their child to the unpleasant side of the world. “It’s nothing to do with you darling boy, nothing at all. And don’t you worry, they will always love you, no matter what. You get those marks in places where your soulmate is injured. This is where your soulmate has a bruise at the moment. But it won’t always be there because your soulmate’s bruise will heal, and your mark will fade with it.”
Jeremy remembers tears collecting in his eyes at the thought of someone, especially someone who he was meant to love, being in pain. “But why?”
Jeremy’s mother paused again, in truth why you were aware of your soulmate being injured was still up for debate, but there were some popular theories. The problem was attempting to phrase any of these in a way a not to upset a small child. “It’s so you know when your soulmate is in danger and you can protect her.”
At this Jeremy perked up slightly. “I can be like one of the knights in our bedtime stories? And save the princess?”
His mother fondly patted his hair. “Yes, exactly like that! Sir Jeremy of Knox!”
Jeremy and his mother didn’t talk about his soulmate for several years after that. He started school and learnt more about soulmates and the theories behind the marks, and the more technical side of what to actually expect when your soulmate was injured--things like marks only appearing for wounds, not scars, and if your soulmates face was injured, the marks wouldn't appear on yours for some reason. Jeremy did notice, however, that sometimes his parents would stare at the marks with unreadable expressions, but he assumed they were wondering what his soulmate was like, just as he did. He was eight or nine when the issue came up with his mother again.
It was late spring and summer heat was just starting to make an appearance, yet his mother was pulling a long sleeved shirt over his head. “Mum, I don’t understand, teacher says we should be happy with our marks because it means we have a soulmate. Why do I have to cover them up?”
His mother sighed and knelt down so she was at his eye level. One of her hands cupped his face and the other gently ran up and down one of his mottled arms. “Jeremy, would you say there’s much of a difference between the marks your classmates get and your own?”
“I ‘spose. I get more of them, I guess.”
His mother’s eyes were so sorrowful that he reached out and grabbed her hand in an attempt at comfort. “This is very hard to talk about Jeremy but I think it’s time. Your father and I think your soulmate gets injured more often than they should. Far more often than we'd expect even for an adventurous little girl.”
Jeremy felt his heart pinch. “You think someone is hurting her? Like a bully at school?”
His mother stared at him for quite a long time after that, as if deciding to leave the matter or expand on it further. Finally, she sighed again and said, “possibly a bully, but Jeremy, not all adults are good people and not all parents are good at their job and well, we think it could be someone at home as well.”
“But why would they do that? Parents love their children!”
“All parents are meant to," She agreed. "But they don’t always Jeremy and I think your soulmate's parents may be very mean people.”
Jeremy started to cry and his mother bundled him up into her arms. “How can I help her, mum?”
“For now, I think it’s best if we don’t show everyone how big your marks are, neither she nor you need people talking about it. And when you meet her… you’ll need to be very kind Jeremy, she’ll need kindness.”
Jeremy sniffed, and voice muffled by his mother’s shoulder declared, “I’m going to be kind to everybody, so even if I don’t know she’s my soulmate, she’ll get kindness anyway and anyone else that needs it can have it too.”
“You have such a big heart, my beautiful boy. I love you so much.”
Jeremy had nightmares every night that week and then semi-regularly for months after this conversation, of looming adults with exy sticks and evil intentions.
At 12, the marks on Jeremy’s skin started getting worse and occurred far more frequently. He started almost exclusively wearing long sleeves. His parent’s, who knew of his soulmate’s abuse long before he was able to properly grasp the concept, would shoot him concerned looks as summer approached and he continued to cover his arms. At very least he used to wear short sleeves around the house, even when his body was covered in aching marks, but he'd stopped doing that as well. His parents never actually talked to him about it, but they often remind him that they’re always there to talk if he needs as they ran fingers gently over the hem of his sleeve.
When what appear to be lash marks start appearing on his skin Jeremy almost has a complete breakdown. He first saw the marks as he got ready to shower after exy practice one evening. He sat in the shower fists in his hair, face pressed hard against his knees, muttering "useless, useless, USELESS!" long after the water went cold, only getting out when his younger sister knocked tentatively on the door to see what was taking so long.
Jeremy threw himself into school and exy after that, trying desperately to become better. A feeble attempt to make up for not being able to protect his soulmate. It was mostly shame that kept him covering his arms and plastering on a smile, even when it felt like his whole world was falling apart. But it wasn't Jeremy that needed help, and how could he even think of asking for it when his soulmate was suffering so much more. Still, it also spurred him to be a kinder, gentler, man. Although he enjoyed the physicality of exy, he never let himself get carried away, not wanting to see anyone else with marks like his own. Off the court as well, he refrained from snide comments and always offered sincere thanks at the end of a match, always aware that you never knew what people were going through out of sight and everyone deserved the small kindnesses others were able to offer so easily.
Even though the marks got less frequent as he progressed through high school, the wounds seemed to become more brutal, with rope patterns etched on wrists and an increasing number of marks that looked like they were caused by knives instead of hands. Although there were a few that Jeremy noticed looked much like his own Exy injuries. This realisation brought with it a burst of happiness, to know at least this small fact about his soulmate and it spurred him on during training sessions. His hope now was to get into a varsity exy team and meet his soulmate on the court.
Jeremy had held the hope that college would mean an escape for his soulmate and that the brutal marks would lessen, or even stop entirely--he didn’t know why but he had always assumed his soulmate was close to his own age. Unfortunately, when Jeremy entered college the frequency of the injuries remained unchanged and the levels of extreme brutality continued to steadily increase. By college he’d reached, not a complacency, every mark still created a sense sickening anger in the pit of his stomach, but an acceptance that, without knowing his soulmate there was absolutely nothing he could do to assist them. This had eased some of Jeremy's self-hatred and sense of inadequacy, even if he did still have nightmares most nights.
Towards the end of his second year with the Trojans, everything got a whole lot worse. Not for Jeremy of course, but for his soulmate. It started with one particularly bad incident, Jeremy had never been so utterly covered in marks and from there, Jeremy found, there was rarely a day that he wouldn’t have new marks. His wrists seemed to be permanently ringed in what looked like lacerations, he had to invest in turtlenecks and scarves to hide the hand prints around his throat, he almost always ached and didn’t know how his soulmate even functioned considering how much worse their injuries and pain levels would be. The exy marks also continued--although they became hard to spot amongst the plethora of purple that patchworked his body--but they drove Jeremy, and he would watch hours of varsity and court level exy just to try spot someone who might have injuries that would correspond. He never had any luck, too many players wore long sleeves, their legs obscured by padding and uniform and their necks hidden under their helmets.
Jeremy’s nightmares got worse as his marks did, and in private he was quickly becoming an emotional mess. It was true he had never met his soulmate, but even still he’d been raised to hold them in his heart, and he cared deeply for their welfare. On top of this, Jeremy, at heart, was someone who believed in the good of the world and being confronted day after day by the fact that someone could inflict such damage on another human being wore him down. Once again his marks were tearing him apart. Every morning when he woke up and found a purple finger, probably from a break, or long marks along his legs as if someone had beaten him with an exy stick, or any multitude of marks from unidentifiable objects, he found it just that much harder to pull himself together to face another day.
He had thought it was the marks from the exy sticks he found the worst, turning something he loved, that he believed his soulmate loved, into another form of torture seemed the utmost cruelty. That was until he woke up one morning, just before the summer break, to discover his inner thighs covered in bruises as if someone had been forcing them apart, and his wrists almost black from his soulmates struggles against their bonds. As he sat up and felt a dull ache from his lower half and he felt his stomach roil. He only just made it to the bathroom before it forcibly emptied its contents. He remained heaving over the toilet bowl for several minutes before dragging himself up and out of the bathroom. His roommate was staring at him in alarm, and it took all the strength Jeremy had left to summon a wan smile and ask him to inform coach that he wouldn’t be able to make it to training as he seemed to have a stomach bug. As Avery left the room, Jeremy collapsed onto his bed and broke down into heaving sobs.
It took Jeremy another couple of days to even pull himself together enough to remotely resemble ok, and another couple to stop his hands from shaking whenever he looked at his thighs. He was glad most people seemed to take his shakiness and muted enthusiasm as a result of the stomach bug, but he noticed Alvarez and Laila seem to make it their mission to spend as much time as humanly possible around him for several weeks after the incident.
His mother pulled him aside when he was home for summer break between his second and third year.
“Jeremy,” she said, putting her hand over his, where it lay on the kitchen table. “You don’t seem like yourself. Is everything ok?”
“Nothing to worry about mum, I’m just a bit nervous to be captain next year is all,” he said with a warm smile despite his insides twisting with guilt at the lie.
His mother looked unconvinced but hesitated before going on. After a long pause, she finally said, “I know we don’t talk about it often, and I think that’s because your father and I didn’t know how to handle it early on, but how are things with your marks?”
Jeremy stiffened, he loved his mother unconditionally, and knew she meant well but this was a conversation he really did not want to have. Didn’t even know how to have. It would be one thing if it concerned only himself, but how could he reveal the secrets of someone he didn’t even know. If it were just the continued beatings maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but the intimacies of the violations he knew of were unspeakable, how could he take them from someone as his own secrets to confess.
“Nothing really to report,” he responded stiffly, looking down to his hand, still lying pliantly under hers.
His mother stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching, for what he didn’t know. “Jeremy, you mustn’t blame yourself, I know it’s hard, but it’s not your fault you haven’t found her yet.”
His mother looked like she would continue but Jeremy grabbed on to the one thing he could think of that would be important enough to sway her from the current conversation. Looking up at her through his bangs he asked, “Ma, what if she, well isn’t a she?” It had been something he’d noticed in high school, that he found both sexes attractive, but since he hadn’t been interested in dating anyone, and there hadn’t seemed much point if he had a soulmate out there, it hadn’t been an issue worth raising. The marks from his soulmate’s sexual assault lead him to believe that perhaps it was time to have this conversation, instead of just springing it on his parents later.
His mother paused for a moment, appearing to have been surprised to the point of speechlessness. “Oh.” Was all she said for a long moment before her ears began to turn a bright red. “I feel so bad for just assuming now,” she laughed. “And for not knowing!”
Jeremy wasn’t overly surprised by his mother’s reaction, his parents had always been the pinnacle of supportive and caring, but it was still a relief. “So it’s not a problem?”
“Honey of course not! Girl, boy, as long as you’re happy it doesn’t matter. Not one bit,” she got up and came round the table to give him a hug. “We’ll have to tell your father later! How ‘bout I make waffles tonight to celebrate? They’re still your favourite right?”
Jeremy smiled, “thanks ma, sounds great.”
Jeremy’s third year in college was definitely the hardest yet, not only was he troubled by the continuing brutality his soulmate faced but now he had the stress of captaincy on his shoulders as well. He was glad that Alvarez and Laila continue with their unquestioning support. He’s not sure he would be able to survive without them, and the vague sense of normality and stability they bring when they’re around. In their company, he almost feels like everything might eventually be ok.
Then, one morning towards the end of the exy season, Jeremy wakes up and it’s hard to find normal skin colour under all the purple marks. He hasn’t seen anything this bad since the end of his first year and in comparison, this is worse. So bad that Jeremy, who only feels a sliver of his soulmate’s pain, struggles to sit up. He feels a hopeless panic claw at his throat.
Alvarez finds him still sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his trembling marked hands and gasping for air. He looks up at her with eyes wide with emotion and can’t even begin to try and string together any form of explanation. He will forever appreciate that Alvarez doesn’t ask him a single question, instead, eyes shining with anger she sits next to him and pulls him into a tight but gentle embrace, allowing him to bury his head in her shoulder. She murmurs small comforts and tries to get him to slow his breathing. When he finally does manage to pull himself together enough to sit up, she lets him, but still grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.
They sit in silence for a long while still, although Alvarez does pull her phone out at one point, Jeremy imagines to tell the team they won’t be turning up for practice.
Eventually, Jeremy draws a shuddering breath and voice hoarse, says, “thank you.”
Alvarez squeezes his hand again. “If you ever want to talk about it…” she offers with a small smile.
Jeremy tries to muster a smile of his own, he’s not sure how well it works out. “Thank you," he says again. "I don’t know if there’s much to say, but thank you.”
“One day you’ll find them.”
“I hope so,” Jeremy doesn’t even bother to hide the hitch in his voice. Alvarez pulls him in for another hug. Later that day Laila appears with chocolate and ice cream and Disney movies and tells Jeremy’s roommate to sleep in the girls' room for the night. They create a nest of blankets and pillows in front of the tv and Jeremy has never felt more relieved that he chose the team he did.
It's at the Trojans vs Foxes game when Kevin Day approached him about adding Jean Moreau to the Trojan lineup. Jeremy's marks were finally beginning to fade, but he still wore a turtleneck and gloves.
“I don’t understand,” Jeremy said with a frown.
“It’s overly complicated,” Kevin conceded. “And this isn’t a small favour, Jean’s in a pretty bad way emotionally and physically, this is more of a rescue mission than a transfer, to be honest.”
“From who? Riko?” By now Jeremy had heard the interview where Kevin had basically admitted his hand wasn't the result of a skiing injury. Like most of the exy community, Jeremy hadn’t found it hard to put two and two together, the transfer, Joston’s outburst when Kevin had been surprised by Riko’s sudden appearance during a live interview, it all suddenly painted an ugly picture.
“He’s a monster,” Kevin stated simply. “And I should have done more to save Jean sooner. But he’s out now, and he needs a team. Exy’s all he’s got left.”
“Why not the foxes?”
“Partly because Jean won’t and never should forgive me for leaving him there, and also because he needs a healthy team, the foxes are a certain type of broken that Jean just won't be able to handle, he needs something wholesome.”
“I’ll need to talk to him in person if possible. But if he’s amenable I’m sure it can be arranged. Performance wise he definitely makes the cut, and we can deal with everything else as it comes up,” Jeremy acquiesced.
Kevin gave him a relieved smile, “I’ll set up a meeting once I get back to Fox Tower.”
Jeremy was slightly nervous about going to see Jean, true he had played him a few times and they’d exchanged mild pleasantries at a few exy events, but the picture Kevin had painted had not been a pretty one, and Jeremy didn’t know what exactly he was about to walk into.
Jean was holed up in the spare room of the Fox’s nurse’s house, and it was Abby that showed him through, before knocking on the door she turned to him. “I don’t know how much Kevin told you, but Jean’s in bad shape, really bad shape, there’s lots of bruising and bandages and I’m just telling you now so you don’t get too big of a shock when you walk in there.”
Jeremy nodded tight-lipped and Abby knocked on the door. “Come in,” said a muffled voice with a french accent.
Abby opened the door and popped her head in, “it’s Jeremy from the Trojans, are you alright to see him?”
“That’s fine, thank you, Abby.”
Abby opened the door wider and as Jeremy went to step through asked, “can I get either of you anything? Water? Snacks?”
Jeremy looked behind him as he stepped through the door, to say “I’m right thanks.”
At the same time, Jean said, “I’m ok for now thank you.”
Abby smiled at Jeremy and said “I’ll let you two figure things out then, do call if you change your mind on the snacks,” as she shut the door.
When Jeremy turned and got his first look at Jean since he had left the Ravens, he felt his world tilt slightly. Jean was covered in bruises, his face was battered, one of his cheeks was covered in gauze, his eyebrow seemed to have been split and so had his lip. From what Jeremy could see of Jean’s arms, where they weren’t covered in bandages or gauze, they were in a similar condition. The extent of Jean’s injuries shocked Jeremy, but what had put him so off balance was the fact he knew them all already, Jean’s wrists were bandaged where Jeremy’s were ringed in marks, the gauze running up Jean’s right arm perfectly aligned with the sharply defined line that ran up Jeremy’s, the fingers Jean sported a splint on were the same two that were stained purple on Jeremy’s hand.
Jean Moreau was Jeremy Knox’s soulmate.
Jeremy didn’t even know how to process this information, didn’t know how to share it with a Jean who looked at him with flat eyes void of emotion, confined to a bed. Didn’t know how to tell Jean that he knew intimately what he’d been through, that he had no privacy. Was terrified that if he did tell Jean, he would want nothing to do with Jeremy, would have no interest in making himself more vulnerable than he already was.
In the end, it was the fear that telling Jean he was his soulmate would tear Jean down even further, rather than build him up like he needed, that lead Jeremy to plastering his smile back on and offering an outstretched hand--the hand with marked fingers was tucked safely into the sleeve of his sweater. “Jean Moreau, it’s good to see you!”
Jean accepted the hand, although it looked like moving that far was painful. “Jeremy, it’s been a while. Forgive me I would stand, but….” He didn’t finish the sentence, both of them knew what he meant.
“All is forgiven! Particularly since I hear a Court level exy player might want to join my team!” Jeremy laughed.
“Would you have me?” Jean asked. “Having seen me now, would you still have me? You know it’ll take months for me to heal, I probably still won’t be playing anywhere near normal 'til halfway through next season.”
Jeremy looked at Jean. “We’ll have you. We may not have the same record as the Foxes but it would be unconscionable to turn you away."
Jean winced, “I’m not looking for favors.”
“We need a back for next season anyway, and even if it takes you all of next season to get back to where you were, you’ll still be better than any first-year recruit. Strategically you’re the best choice. If you get the ok, we’ll start training with you before the rest of the team gets back after summer to try speed things up.”
Jean stared at him as if trying to gauge if Jeremy’s offer was driven out of pity, but it seemed Jeremy’s argument was sound and eventually he nodded.
“Where are things at with your contract?” Jeremy asked, sure Kevin wouldn’t have sent him on a wild goose chase, but still needing to know.
“Renee says I’ll be released by the end of the week.”
“Excellent, I want to announce this as soon as possible. Might save me some of the backlash from the last game,” he laughed, some Trojan supporters weren’t as big a fan of sportsmanship as he was and for them, a defeat at the hands of the Foxes was a bitter one.
“You would have won that game.”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“Your team suffered.”
“Our team is stronger for it.”