Chapter Text
Jesse was fifteen when he received his soulmark. Of course he had– it was only natural that he'd gotten it when everyone else had. It began as a small marking on his left wrist, neat characters in a language he couldn't read. Hell, he didn't even know it was Japanese until one of his friends pointed it out.
As the years passed, the characters were joined by swirls of inky black, twisting up and around his arm. Within the swirls were the shapes of two dragons, fierce-looking and beautiful. Jesse was, well... he secretly loved the look of it. When he got the chance, he'd show it off and trace the marks with wonder. He'd never heard of a soulmark so intricate and... large, for that matter. As he grew older, though, he began to question the universe. Why had it given this to him? He certainly couldn't deserve such a beautiful mark, and especially not his soulmate. The man he'd seen in his dreams was beautiful, but Jesse... Jesse hardly considered himself much.
His dreams had been filled the Japanese man since he received those first marks; another normal circumstance, of course, but the dreams only made Jesse worry more. Could he really be worthy of such a man? Jesse was a killer, a gang member only to ensure he wouldn't starve, to ensure he'd be able to sleep with some semblance of safety.
Sleep... sleep... His sleep was never dreamless and always he saw his soulmate. The man... he had flawless porcelain skin, straight, silky black hair, a beautifully built body and a face that looked like it'd been chiseled by goddamn angels. The worst part of the dreams was that he never seemed to reach him. Always just out of reach, always turned away, aways speaking and yet the sound never reached Jesse's ears... Jesse could only wonder what he sounded like, what his touch felt like, what his normal monotonous day consisted of...
When Jesse turned 17, he started to wear gloves and long sleeves despite the southwestern heat. He didn't believe in his mark like he used to; he didn't believe in the universe anymore. Years of abuse and insults over his soulmark beat out all of his faith in the future. To hell with it. Jesse had lost most of his friends by this time to raids gone wrong, and the rest of the gang mostly consisted of old, hard,and broken men, all less religious than a dead rattler. Half the time they were drunk, and the other half they looked for something to make them feel powerful, feel better about having a shit life. They never spoke to Jesse unless they were on a crime run or they were thirsty for a fight. They'd beat him, curse him, remind him of his fate if he fought back... the other kids his age never stepped in, not even Joel (his only remaining friend), they just stared into whatever their light source for the night was. Jesse didn't want to get thrown out andshot, so he said nothing. He just did what they told him to do to stay alive.
One day, on another screwed up mission for Deadlock, Jesse was captured, the rest of the team dead or jailed for life. That day, Jesse McCree was offered a way out... a way to his destiny. He didn't go quietly, but he sure as hell knew that he'd be dead if he didn't join. And, Jesse thought, who knows... maybe the universe had planned this. Maybe he could finally become good enough for his soulmate.