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Ajay Che didn't have very many flowers in her childhood. Scars, sure—plenty of little nicks and scrapes from an active childhood of her own, from climbing everywhere and getting into places she shouldn't, little things that she expected would bloom into little flowers on her soulmate's own hands and arms. But her own body was devoid of any flowers. It spoke to a more careful childhood, one guarded more closely by adults, and when she was younger she'd sometimes look in the mirror and despair over the thought that maybe she didn't have a soulmate at all.
And then she grew up and became an adult, and then she was too busy getting through med school and doing social work and volunteering for every expedition in the Frontier Corps she could get her hands on, and she didn't think about soulmates for a while. Earned a good few bigger scars of her own, sure, and despaired over what Octavio's soulmate must think of him, but her body was still relatively devoid of scars and she didn't think about it and that was that.
And then one day she took her shirt off while getting ready for bed, and paused, because suddenly on her chest there was a v-shaped row of flowers long and deliberate, running all the way down over the valley of her ribs. The ice blue blossoms burst from the image of a curling, thorny stem, bright and stark against her dark skin, and Ajay felt her heart ache at the obvious surgical precision of it all.
That wasn't the last of it. More flowers began to bloom. Little pinprick blossoms began to brighten over her wrists, the same color as the first; Ajay took to wearing gloves to hide them. There would be questions asked if people saw them. Especially if Octavio saw them, because he'd never stop asking questions about the flowers that had finally begun to appear on her skin and those weren't questions she wanted to answer.
Those weren't questions she thought she could answer. She recognized the pattern: surgical scar on the chest. Pinprick patterns of flowers over her veins, like needle marks. Her soulmate was probably in the hospital for something, but what? What were they suffering through? Why were these so extensive?
And, worse still: when the flowers began to run out of space on her wrists, they began to appear on her neck, too, the same needling pinprick pattern, arranged ominously over the jugular.
Octavio did notice the next one: a twining stem of flowers on the back of her head, just beneath her baby hairs. He made a crack about her soulmate having their skull split open, and Ajay put a hand to the back of her head and went What? Octavio took a picture of it on his phone and held it out to her, and there must have been something in her expression because Octavio didn't say a word to her about it, even though there were questions flashing in his eyes.
She let her hair grow a little longer, made her bun a little looser so the hairs would cover that one up too, and she continued to wonder. The needle scars, the v-shaped flowers… and now this, the curving scar on the back of her head that must be from brain surgery.
Part of Ajay feared that one day the flowers would die. One day, she would wake up, and the bright ice blue would be wilted, and that would mean her soulmate had died, and the thought made her blood run cold. Because why else would they be in the hospital? Why else would they be going through these procedures? What were they suffering through—what were they fighting?
She wished she could help. Stars, she wished she could help.
But there was nothing to be done, because the only thing she knew about her soulmate was that their flowers were icy blue, and Ajay had never met anyone who she could call that cold shade. Certainly nobody sick enough to end up in the hospital so constantly.
The flowers were extensive, yes. But they were not the worst.
The worst came when Ajay woke early one morning as she often did for Frontier work, walked into the bathroom, glanced into the mirror and choked.
Because there looking back from her reflection was a flower blooming in one of her eyes.
Ice-blue as they always were; her pupil had become its center, a dark pistil from which the petals spiraled outwards, overtaking the brown iris beneath. Ajay blinked once, twice, closed one eye and then the other, but her vision was still intact. The flower was just… there, stark and bright and so very noticeable, making Ajay's heart spin in circles the longer she thought about it.
She had seen pictures of people whose soulmates had lost lines. Had looked them up out of curiosity when idiot Octavio lost his legs, wondering what kind of flowers that would bring his soulmate. The answer: a whole garden of the flowers, overtaking the limb in its entirety. They swallowed up the skin until the tone underneath couldn't be seen, flower upon flower upon flower, overlapping.
But that wasn't the case with this one. No matter how long Ajay looked, no other flowers threatened to bloom into view on her sclera. No: just the single flower, a mark of pain upon her iris.
What kind of thing could cause an injury like that?
What happened to her soulmate?
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
Renee Blasey thought about her soulmate quite a lot. Mostly in the restless times where there was nothing better for her to think about, quiet moments where her mind would begin to spin in spirals, thinking about her past.
Her earliest memories, the first ones she could remember? Those were of pain. And then, before that? Nothing. No remnants. No clues to what she could have been, to the person "Renee Blasey" was. Nothing stored there besides blank nothingness. Dead space.
But there was still a hint she cared with her. On her body: over her fingers, above the little dots of needle scars that made her sick to look at, was something a little more hopeful. Red poppies, almost orange at the center, wrapping around her fingers like little bandages. She had a few bigger ones, too, up her arms, one flourishing on her leg. They were few and far between, but they were there, and Renee cherished them.
After all, if she had a soulmate, they must have had flowers far before she could remember. And if that was the case, maybe… maybe they could tell her a thing or two. Not much, she doubted it would be much, but at this point she would take anything even if it was a "this flower bloomed on my ankle when I was two".
It wasn't like she was going to go searching for her soulmate anytime soon, though. She believed in taking fate by the reins, sure. She made her own choices. She followed her own road. But it was one thing to know she could find her soulmate if she tried, really tried, and far and away another to just put her scars on display, hoping beyond hope for the person who matched them to see.
She couldn't do that. Not when those scars had so much pain behind them. Not when the story they etched into her skin was one she wasn't willing to tell—couldn't tell, didn't think she could get through the words without them sticking in her throat.
That was alright. She had other things to find. Other leads to trail. She would find her soulmate eventually, surely, and until then…
…until then, at least she had the poppies to cherish.
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
When Ajay met Wraith for the first time, it was standing beside her on the same platform in the dropship, waiting for it to drop out beneath them so they could leap into the arena below and kill people for an audience.
Their eyes met. And Ajay's breath caught; her first thought was of how Wraith's eyes glowed, like a star, like cold fire, like nothing she had ever seen. Nothing, except the same shade of ice blue painted, hidden on her body.
But it was "eyes", plural, and no matter how hard she looked Wraith's own eyes seemed perfectly undamaged, no scars that could speak to the flower blooming from her own pupil, and the two of them stopped looking at each other moments later when they were getting ready to drop. A game later, covered in blood and gunpowder, Ajay had written it out of her mind as a coincidence.
When Wraith saw Lifeline for the first time, she looked into the ice-white flower blooming from one pupil and her heart skipped a beat.
She knows that color. She knows the unique shade of her own eyes when they glowed with the Void. That was the same shade she had looked into when a woman who was her walked through a portal and told her she wasn't crazy. That was the same shade she was looking into now, and she couldn't make herself look away.
And she knows exactly why her soulmate would have a flower like that.
Maybe the eye hadn't scarred visibly. But she wouldn't put it past herself to think that the eye was maybe damaged, just a little bit; some subtle thing that her other eye just accounted for when it came to vision. It was a possibility.
And why else would Lifeline's flower be that same shade of blue?
Part of her thought: it couldn't be. It couldn't be. It was just a coincidence.
A far larger part of her, forged in fire, knew there was no such thing as coincidences.
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
Second season, almost the third, and Renee still put off coming to Lifeline about it. She'd put it off long enough from their first meeting that she had found a name in the process, and a piece of history she wrestled with deep down.
She'd meant to come to her sooner. But again and again, she'd think about it, she'd catch that flowerstruck pupil in her gaze and the question would well up in her throat, the confession, but…
There's just so much behind Renee's scars. So many memories, the first she can put a name to. So much pain. So much pleading for them to stop, stop, please stop it hurts—Renee never stopped fighting that. Never stopped pleading, crying out, begging, even though there came a point that she knew they would never listen.
Lifeline is a doctor. Lifeline is a woman who wields a syringe as one of her finishers and it reminds Renee far too much of the syringes that held forceful sleep, paralysis, helplessness, drifting away into unconsciousness no matter how hard she tried to fight it, no matter how much she pleaded, please—
It's hard. It's so hard, even though she knows what she has to do. It's so hard to walk up to Lifeline and show her the scars on her wrists or around her neck and ask, 'do you match these?'
She could be her soulmate.
So, fuck—why is she so afraid of her?
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
There's something up with Wraith.
Ajay had noticed it earlier, in the back of her mind. The way she's started seeing Wraith around the dropship less and less. The times she does see her, brief and hurried. Wraith can be scarce around the ship sometimes, sure, but not like this. She's fairly certain the other Legend is avoiding her.
She'd… mostly put it out of her mind. Wraith kept to herself. She was mysterious that way. And a part of Ajay wanted to know what she'd done, what in the hell had gotten into the other Legend to make her start acting this way, but Ajay was busy was half a dozen other things and running on five hours of sleep at any given time at best and she didn't have time for this kind of bullshit. If Wraith had a problem with her, but didn't want to say anything? Fine. That was her own damn business.
And then they were paired up for a match, and suddenly it became a lot more of a problem.
Wraith wasn't the type to let personal history affect her on the battlefield. She'd work with Anita as willingly, as smoothly as she worked with anyone else, and she did not like Anita. And Wraith was all the same cold professionalism on the battlefield with Ajay, too, this round, except it was strained. She was jumpy. Hesitant. Kept glancing over at Ajay when she thought she wasn't looking.
And then Ajay had passed a medkit to her, and Wraith had flinched. Flinched!
Ajay had thought it was just Wraith being in a mood, maybe even being petty and passive-aggressive.
But she should have known better. Wraith was more straightforward than that. (Wraith nearly punched Anita in the jaw that one time when she started getting a little loud about her IMC past.)
So, there's something up with Wraith.
Ajay intends to find out what.
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
There's a knock on the door to Renee's quarters.
It's Lifeline, a voice hums, and her chest tightens.
She needs to stop being so damn stupid about this. She needs to untangle the web of nots that her heart and mind seem to have tied themselves into because of Lifeline. The knocks are a very real, very tangible reminder that this woman could be, probably is he soulmate, and Renee needs to stop avoiding her like the goddamn plague.
She needs to stop being so afraid of her. Because she's Lifeline, and she's probably one of the easiest Legends in the dropship to work with, up there with Elliot, Pathfinder and Natalie, and Renee had no reason to treat her like she's been.
No reason, except…
She'd sigh if she wasn't sure Lifeline would hear her.
"Come in," Renee says.
When Lifeline walks in, she closes the door behind her (bad sign) and then leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. (Worse sign.)
"We need t' talk," Lifeline says.
Renee raises an eyebrow. "I'm right here talking to you," she says, resorting to dry sarcasm to cover up the sudden bout of nerves.
"Y'not been talkin' to me 'bout the things you should," Lifeline says, and Renee knows instantly that she's noticed her avoiding her. Damn it.
"Go on," Renee says, not trusting herself to say it without fucking everything up.
Lifeline rolls her eyes. "Yuh jesta, do I have to make it clear? Y'been avoiding me all week."
She steps closer, putting her hands on her hips, and this close Renee can't help but let her eyes flick up to the flower painted in Lifeline's eye. That ice-blue flower. Her flower. The unavoidable truth.
She wishes she could avoid it. Renee doesn't… she doesn't want anyone knowing her scars. Doesn't want anyone knowing the pain behind them, and especially not… not Lifeline. She doesn't want her to know her pain. Doesn't want to confront the fact that she probably already has a few guesses…
She knows she's being ridiculous. She knows Lifeline isn't like the people who hurt her.
She can feel her hands start to tremble.
"Wraith? Yuh listenin'?"
Renee nods, not trusting herself to speak.
"Look, yuh business not mi business. If yuh got a problem w' me, you don' wan to talk 'bout it, that's fine. But when it starts affectin' the battlefield, now eh fi mi problem. Y'hear?"
Renee blinks. She's just confused enough to ask, "How did it…?" She thought she was doing a good job pushing all the feelings down; keeping them away from the Games.
"Mi no fool. I saw yuh flinch when I gave you a medkit," Lifeline says.
Shit. "...I don't like needles," Renee half-lies, wincing internally when she realizes how that could lead to the scars peppering her wrists and neck.
"More than that," Lifeline says. "Yuh never avoid me before. Yuh never flinch like that."
Lifeline kneels down, meeting Renee at eye level from where she's sitting. The mark in her eye is so close now Renee can see the detailing in the petals; feels her stomach flip over and over again trying desperately not to remember the needle that gave it. The struggle. Trying so hard to pull away but she can't, she can't…
"Wraith." Lifeline's voice brings her back to the present. "Mi not mad at yuh. I jus' want to know what's goin' on."
There's so much empathy in her voice, it startles her. So much warmth that she'd never heard from any of the people who cut her open. It's a kind of concern that's… rare. So rare. She's not used to hearing that before. From anyone. Especially not about this.
She's expecting pain, but all she's getting is kindness. She's been so afraid, but all Lifeline is showing her is patience.
There's a heavy weight pounding in Renee's chest. Her mouth is dry and her hands are shaking, weak, but.
Fuck. She can't do this anymore.
Ajay has to know.
With a racing heart, Renee reaches up to undo her scarf.
-——— ✾✾✾ ———-
For the longest time, Wraith looks like a deer in the headlights. Ajay kneels, says her piece, says it so fervently it feels heavy when it leaves her tongue, because, well.
She's worried.
She never thought about her feelings towards Wraith before this. Wraith had always just been… there. A constant presence alongside her in the dropship. Quietly lingering in doorways, hallways, in darkened corners; a frost-colored ghost, and occasionally Ajay would meet her eyes and smile and she would get a quirk of the lips in return.
And on the battlefield—there was something between them, something more than just the usual camaraderie. Back-to-back, arms to arms, and Wraith would press close to D.O.C. so gratefully sometimes and more than once Ajay would dodge a shot at the last moment because of a sharp warning from Wraith and they just worked.
More than that: they had the same dry sarcasm, and dark sense of humor, and in the in-betweens when they bandaged up bloody bullet wounds and looted deathboxes they would get to bantering quietly and…
…and Ajay missed that.
Ajay missed it a lot more than she thought she would. Missed the constant, comforting presence of her lingering beside her. Missed the smell of ozone that would cling to herself sometimes, when Wraith opened her portals and she stepped through.
She doesn't understand why Wraith has been avoiding her. She doesn't understand why Wraith seems almost… afraid of her.
She doesn't understand, at first, when after a while Wraith's response to her is to unwrap her scarf.
Ajay's seen Wraith without her scarf… well, never. Maybe once or twice, when Wraith was forced to dress fancy for interviews, but even then she would be wearing high collars, something that covered her neck.
Maybe it's more accurate to say: Ajay has never seen Wraith with her neck uncovered.
And as the scarf slips off, clutched tight in Wraith's hands, Ajay realizes why.
Track marks. Needle scars, dark purples like vivid bruises against Wraith's pale skin. They're so stark that all Ajay can do is stare for a few moments. Wraith mentioned she didn't like needles. The sudden connection between that little fun fact and the actual, visible proof of why she must not like such a thing leave her stomach sinking with dread. A sympathetic ache for what Wraith must have gone through to hate them so much.
Her eyes trace back to Wraith's. "Why are yuh…?"
Wraith is quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is choked. "Do you–recognize them?"
A second of confusion. Another second, of why would I?
A realization, like a lightning bolt from the sky.
Ajay doesn't hide her neck quite like Wraith does, with the scarf and all. But she does, generally, keep it obscured. With the medical mask hanging low around her neck, or with a pair of chunky headphones like right now and—
Now it's Ajay's turn to grab her headphones, pull them off her neck to reveal the icy blossoms blooming there, the same color as Wraith's eyes when they glow and she realizes.
It's not a coincidence. Never was.
Wraith's eyes all but flash with recognition; she leans forward before she can catch herself, hands rising as if to touch. But then she does catch herself, and her eyes flick down to her own hands, and she's pulling off her gloves as fast as she can.
Ajay almost knows what she'll see there. As Wraith reveals her hands, Ajay does the same, pulling off her own gloves. Wraith holds a splayed hand out to her, revealing the bright reds of… poppies, are those poppies? marking her skin where Ajay had cut herself on rocks and other things in the past. Ajay tilts her hand back, exposing her wrist, where the little blue flowers mark track marks that Ajay can spot on Wraith's own hand.
Wraith. Wraith is her soulmate.
It feels unreal. It feels like a dream, or some fantasy that's too unrealistic to ever happen; but here Wraith is, sitting in front of her, looking half like she wants to bolt as she shows Ajay proof of her own scars, and a thought comes to her.
Her eye.
"How long," Ajay manages, realizing that is the flower that's brightest and most easily on display for her and Wraith must have seen it and of course Wraith would know her own scars and did—did she know? "How long didja…"
Wraith's hands are gentle and cold when she takes Ajay's hand in hers, pulls her a little closer to get a better look at the flowers dotting her wrist. Ajay lets her.
Her voice is tight when she replies. "When I saw you. I… suspected." Her thumb strokes over her wrist. Ajay can't help the sigh that follows, soft. Wraith shakes her head. "But I had—other things on my mind. For a while."
"An' then yuh didn't?" Ajay prompts.
"And then," Wraith says. "...and then I—I found something. Started thinking, about…"
One of Wraith's hands comes up to touch just beneath her eye. Ajay knows it's the eye that mirrors her own.
Wraith's voice is very quiet when she says, "...I'm sorry."
"Wraith," Ajay says. "Yuh don'... you don' have to apologize for all that. Mi wi bi honest, I… it woulda been nice to know sooner. But I get wantin' to hide yuh past."
Oh, does she get wanting to leave her past behind. And she doesn't know the kind of pain behind Wraith's scars, not really, but… she can take a few guesses. "Don' worry 'bout all that," she says. "Mi forgive yuh."
Wraith's eyes are shining in a way other than their usual glow. The grey catches the light oddly and Ajay realizes that she's on the verge of tears.
"Renee," she says. "My name is Renee."
"Renee," Ajay repeats softly. "That's a good one."
Wraith—Renee—makes a choked sort of noise, her eyes sliding shut. Even as tightly closed as they are, Ajay can still see a few of her tears leak through.
There is a story behind those scars. One that speaks to suffering, and struggling, and hell knows what else. It's a story with the kind of darkness that Ajay can't even imagine, let alone begin putting guesses to.
But that's okay. That's alright, because Ajay is here for her now. She has her soulmate right in front of her, within arm's reach.
And finally, she can help.
❃