Chapter Text
Part One
In a world of soulmates what would happen to John Constantine's soulmates? They sure had drawn up snake eyes where Constantine is concerned. Soulmates are part of the evolutionary process. It seems it is Mother Nature’s way of ensuring the propagation--though as it is quickly becoming more common there’s more and more discrimination.
“Fucking typical,” Constantine thinks as he downs his drink, “different story, same bullshit.”
There was discrimination, for instance, towards blanks having children--“Fucking wonderful,” he thinks sarcastically. That was only one of the many ways humans discriminated and acted like assholes to each other. Humans were always going to find ways to discriminate others one way or another. “It’s in our nature,” Constantine muses to himself. It’s certainly made for interesting times where it’s one more thing that brings about hate, and in the flipside tolerance (which is almost exclusionary at some point when the “wrong” people are seeking tolerance and acceptance much like the TERFs).
Church people thought they were a gift from God that is until it started including less than “savory” combinations that went beyond the acceptable heteronormative relationships. Then there was the creationists who were scrambling to prove that this is not an evolutionary response but that of a divine God under the guise of intelligent design. Although they were mum on the other aspects that “spat” in the face of their doctrine (even though some claimed to have no doctrine). Even the “tolerant” were beginning to show some of their intolerance and hate. The words “gay agenda” became even more popularized as Hollywood started to go beyond the girl meets boy story but the girl meets girl story or boy meets boy story. Within the independent film scene did they explore the full spectrum of soulmates: the platonic ones, the romantic ones, the mixed platonic/romantic ones, those with a couple to several soulmates. Even so, the few Hollywood films that actually had soulmates aside from the boy-meet-girl stories were still full of stereotypes, inaccuracies, and bollocks (for instance, more often than not it’s that the girl and girl are platonic , the “best friends” for life and on rare occasion that there’s a third it’s the male that only one of them shares a sexual connection with--such shit, Constantine grouses). There was also the rise of cults created by abusers and other questionable folk who wanted means of controlling their soulmates, or those who believed that blanks born in their cult could only be redeemed by appointed spiritual leaders with little to no freedom or other such nonsense.
Even so this soulmate business was a constant pain in the ass for Constantine. For the longest time he was ecstatic of not having to deal with the emotional upheaval that were soulmates; he was born a blank and never gave a second thought. He did all right for himself. No, not the soulmate business but the fucking someone business. He looked over to the burly bartender he picked up last night who was around tens years older to his nineteen years. They had fumbled their way back to his room at some nondescript seedy motel. It was exactly what he needed. A good deep fucking where both men took turns fucking and being fucked. Nothing like a few orgasms to work out a few kinks and clear one’s mind. He was going to wear the bruises on his hip and shoulders, and claw marks on his chest like badges of honor. He stroked Nick’s soulmark that had faded to gray on the small of his back. Poor bloke lost his soulmate. At least he didn’t mind that Constantine was not his soulmate or that Constantine had been a blank. Another bullshit that came about with soulmates--there was issue with blanks having sex with those who were soulmarked, or soulmarked having sex with others who weren’t their own. It was basically the same sex-shaming shit in new form. For Nick a new set of words had appeared right above his public line.
It was not until a few years later that Constantine was marked. “Fuck me,” Constantine grumbled, taking a puff of his cigarette. He had felt the burn as soon he had done his first difficult exorcism. This was not what he wanted at all. He didn’t want to deal with the baggage of soulmates. So the universe decided to fuck with him. He got two soulmarks for one. For another, they were both going to be extremely young. That was another facet of the soulmarks that made Constantine roll his eyes. Typically, most soulmarks were either born with their soulmark or obtained one when their soulmate was born. Only those who were initially soulmarked got another chance if their original soulmate was unable to be their soulmate (usually painful rejection, death, etc).
John Constantine was twenty one years old. There was no way he would ever feel comfortable with either of his soulmates. If he could help it, he’d reject both of them and hope that they’d be given a new soulmate. Since both of their soulmates were born with the marks, they’d have a better chance finding someone better suited. Constantine was always one who was going to walk his path alone because who was insensible enough to walk it with him?
It came to Constantine’s surprise when he met his very much adult male soulmate. More so when he was already a close friend of Constantine. It came in the form of roommate-cum-best friend Francis “Chas” Chandler. His best bloke for many years now that he loved deeply, more deeply than he thought possible. They were basically friends with benefits. Both Constantine and Chas enjoyed a good fuck every now and then but were much better suited to have relationships with others. Well Chas was better suited for relationships. In the years Constantine had known him, Chas had several relationships with others under his belt. Constantine wasn’t really built for steady relationships, save for Chas (before the soulmark Constantine could never fully understand why they’d always be drawn back together, or why they fit so well).
It didn’t stop Constantine from pursuing men and women of his choice. He even had a significant other at one point. At least Zatanna and himself were still friends when the relationship undoubtedly blew up in their faces, it seemed that she wasn’t really built for a triad. At the end of the day Chas and Constantine were there for each other in every way possible with each free to pursue others with an unspoken contingency that they’d always leave room for each other. After getting the soulmark Constantine admitted over several beers that he hated the idea that they were this close only because of the soulmark. Chas had responded that they’d be best friends (with benefits) no matter what. There was no more talk of whether or not their “relationship” was sincere or edged on by the soulmark.
After the sorrowful business with Astra, both of Constantine’s soulmark had turned blue as did Chas’s. Chas could only recount a temporary but rather painful burning pain as if something was being ripped out of him that caused him to pass out. However they both simply chalked it up to the difficulty of the exorcism, the difficulty of summoning Nergal and the fact that Constantine had lost his soul when his bargaining had failed. So perhaps it was the soulmark’s way of saying something fucked up badly. Neither Constantine nor Chas felt incredibly different aside from the guilt, shame and trauma of condemning a poor child to hell. Constantine decided to not give too much thought in his soulmark (only Chas and himself knew of their being soulmates which is what both wanted to keep quiet). The last thing he or Chas needed was Manny knowing about it, giving him something to hold over Constantine. Chas had never met Manny but did comment that he could feel when he was taken over by Manny when he wanted to talk to Constantine which irritated the hell out of him.
Early in the morning before the sun had barely begun to rise Darcy thrashed about in her bed. Her legs becoming painfully wrapped around her blankets. All of her pillows had been thrown about her room violently. Sweat pooled on her bedsheets as she painfully moaned loudly. As the pain worsened, Darcy screamed until her voice became hoarse. All she could feel were claws scraping her skin desperately wanting to tear into shreds. Then she felt it. A pull from the center of chest that both felt like being shot, and being under surgery under anesthesia--her mind recalling footage from the TLC shows about such a thing. It was a pain that she had never felt before. Darcy chanted “no, please, no, no” and began to sob. The nightmare felt so real. It all felt too hot. Her skin felt too tight. The burning, sulphuric smell was awful and felt as if it burned the lining of her nasal passages, and throat.
A very pale, worried Jane shook Darcy awake. Darcy was shuddering with such force Jane was nearly hit by Darcy’s elbow, then her shoulder, then her hand. She wrapped Darcy with several blankets that were hand-knitted by Darcy. Only then did she seem to calm slightly. Jane went into full mothering mode, making sure Darcy had her favorite dark chocolate with a pinch of black pepper. Darcy closed her eyes fighting the tears that were threatening to spill, her chest heaving as a panic attack was settling in. After several minutes of Darcy doing deep breaths, and calming down, did she talk about her experience.
“Janey,” Darcy said quietly, “this was like the most brutal nightmare I’ve ever had, ever.”
“I’m sure Darc,” Jane said equally quietly, “I was actually pulled out of my science bender.”
“Are you serious?” Darcy said a bit wide-eyed, “It must have been one hell of a dream then. I can still feel the pain in my chest too and I can still remember the smell from the dream. It’s so weird.”
After that night Darcy noticed that she was so much more cold-blooded. Her fondness for knitted wear only increased. Even in New Mexico, with its fluctuating temperatures, when the temperatures reached well over the 90s did she feel at least comfortable, never hot, only warm. She stroked both of her now blue soulmark words--one on the small of her back, the other one right above her vulva-- wondering what the hell happened. On top of the ages of her soulmark being entirely questionable as she was seventeen when she got them something happened that night which only left pain and dread. Darcy only knew that soulmarks turned gray when something traumatic happened. Yet her mark was blue. Darcy continued her usual sassy demeanor in order to downplay her unease. She couldn’t help but notice that the vibrancy of life seemed to have dimmed slightly.
Everything seemed to return to normal until an Asgardian fell down from the heavens. While his time here, she’d catch Thor look at her curiously. Darcy began to feel more and more uncomfortable under his gaze. It was as if she was a puzzle he was trying to decipher. She really didn't like it. It made her feel even more odd. It also felt damn rude.
“It is most curious,” Thor started one day before the space robots attacked. Darcy could only give him a pointed look. “Ah, yes, forgive my staring it was most rude. It is only you are not like the others.”
“Alright big guy, I'm feeling magnanimous today as you got like the most notes I ever got on my facebook, tell me why,” though Darcy was apprehensive recalling that night.
“It appears you do not have the same vibrational frequency like that of Eric and Jane. While there are certainly variations it stays mainly in the same range. You, on the other hand, is unlike any I've ever seen for a human. It feels quite cold actually not nearly like that of a frost giant but not entirely human.”
“Not entirely human?” Darcy said quietly with a panic settling in her gut, with a thought echoing loudly in her brain “that might explain my soulmark, I think?”
Then there was more talk of that, as the space robots attacked, Darcy saved some puppies and then helped Jane deal with Thor’s absence. Jane keenly felt Thor being gone as he was one of the first to treat Jane so respectfully, never belittle her, and take her intelligence as a thing of beauty. The fact that he was also from an advanced society with science riped for the research was icing on a very delicious cake (when Jane could convince him that is). As the days became months, that lead into years, Darcy trudged along. Jane was her best friend and she was always going to be there for her. Darcy followed Jane to Tromsø, Norway. While helping Jane with her research she hacked past S.H.I.E.L.D.’s firewalls and security and learned the real reason why they were there. Even so Darcy and Jane received lemons, they demanded to see life’s manager because they didn’t want any damn lemons. After that Jane ixnayed any idea of combustible lemons. Darcy followed Jane to London and then to Asgard. Darcy even forgave Thor about the pretense of being Jane’s handmaiden so that she could be there for Jane.
Of course she wasn’t prepared to have one of the Norns tell her she had no soul. This seemed to have them teetering with curiousity matched only by Jane when she got hold of a new bit of promising data. They wanted to know how that it could be. They wanted Darcy to recount memories, dreams, anything that could tell them how it happened.
Darcy remembered her night terror and shuddered. She recounted everything with accurate detail--each thrash, clawing, burning was forever etched in her brain. She told them about what Thor had said. She told them about how she felt after that night--how cold she was, how she felt dimmer, like life changed the adjustments and everything felt more muted.
Darcy then showed the Norns her soulmark on the small of her back. The Norns stroked Darcy’s blue soulmarked words. They nodded in quiet agreement.
“One of your soulmates may have lost their soul, and must have taken yours with theirs.”
Her soul was gone.
She was soulless.
She was a walking, living, breathing corpse...well a husk of a person.
After everything Darcy found herself in a dingy pub nursing a third pint of ale. How in the hell was she going to explain this when she wasn’t even sure she understood herself? That was only the first huge step, would soul retrieval even be possible? Darcy let out a sigh as she took another gulp of her ale with a worried Jane looking on.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Darcy thought to herself.