Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steven woke up with a jolt.  

His phone was ringing. He reached over his beside and answered it. “Hello?” His voice was hoarse, but he cleared his throat away from the phone. “Layla!” He exclaimed, excited to be receiving a call from someone like her. They talked for a short while, but not about anything that had happened over the past few days. They just talked. Layla and Steven had yet to get to know each other as much as she and Marc had. So, it was nice to begin to become familiar with her.  

When they said goodbyes and hung up, Steven removed the restraint from his ankle and glanced down at the ring of sand, looking back up to the door, jumping slightly when he saw the tape gone. He relaxed when he remembered that was no longer something he had to worry about. He stepped on the sand and fed Gus and the one other fish that was in the tank. He got dressed into a new pair of clothes and slipped on his jacket along with a coffee he prepared and poured into his thermos. He ran a comb through his hair in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.  

“How’s it going, Marc?” He asked into the mirror. His reflection moved.  

“Still don’t understand how you’ve lived in this dump for so long.”  

Steven nodded with a hum of protest. “Well, where did you live that was so special, hm?” He scoffed as if he had won that argument. Marc shook his head at Steven’s idiocy. They left the flat, Steven had somewhere to be. He had an interview for another museum as a tour guide. He guessed he finally took Donna’s advice. It was the afternoon, his interview was late, and he had slept in a fair amount of time considering recent events. He was thrilled to have such an opportunity, and he had found the opening for the job so quickly, he had only looked for a bit the previous night, applying without hesitation. It was another museum dedicated to ancient Egypt, but since it would be odd to have museums of the same concept so near each other, the commute was much longer, and parts would have to be walked. Either that or he could save enough to get an actual vehicle for transport. However, he hadn’t the money.  

It was a half-hour bus ride, and another half hour of walking, and then he got on another bus for another thirty minutes. He and Marc had discussed the distance while walking half the distance, but Steven was adamant, feeling the job was worth too much to give it up simply because of something like time or distance. Marc was happy for him, he couldn’t deny that, but he was concerned. Such consumption of time could lead to loss of sleep and a simple waste of time. Marc wasn’t one for using time so nonchalantly.  

When they did arrive, the total time being an hour and a half worth of commute, Steven was almost late, not calculating the timing quite right. But when he sat down with the manager of the establishment, he learned they were very understanding people. They were willing to compromise and work with him. They were willing to offer him the job along with the risk of being late, as they understood the fact, that he had no vehicle of his own. Steven was thrilled, he felt he could truly be happy there. They offered him the job, and he took it without a second thought. He would be there the next day.  

Marc couldn’t help but be slightly upset after Steven accepted without talking it through with him first. Daily tasks could already be challenging enough with two people in one body, but a job? They would have to come up with a way to work around that first. But he let it slide, Steven was happy, after all. Steven had contemplated whether he should inform them of Marc’s existence, but he decided not to. He was scared of other people knowing, scared of what they would think or say, or if they would even believe him. He would give it time.  

Steven left the building after giving himself his own tour. The next day he would be introduced to everything and tested on his knowledge more than he had during his interview, and they would see whether he needed his own script or if he was good enough so he could improvise. He looked up at the night sky, rain droplets falling onto his cheeks gently. He hoped it wouldn’t turn into anything more.  

You should have talked to me about it more.  

Steven looked down at a small forming rain puddle, making eye contact with Marc. “What are you talking about?”  

A job. With the both of us and our new agreement. We were supposed to talk about how we were going to go about it before you took an offer.  

Steven shook his head. “You expect me to give up an opportunity like that? They liked me so much that they offered it to me on the spot. I can’t let that slip from me, not even for a moment.” He walked towards the bus stop, ducking under the small roof and sitting on the still-dry bench.  

I understand how much it means to you, but we can’t go making these decisions without talking with one another. Marc moved to another small puddle as the rain increased.  

“I’ve already explained my thinking, I don’t think I should have to say it again, yeah? We can talk about it more when we get back home.”  

Steven, this isn’t what we a-  

“Just drop it, okay?” Steven looked up as he heard the rumbling of the bus approaching. He climbed on with a thank you to the driver and decided to stand and hold a handle above him to avoid falling asleep on a seat. He wobbled as the bus began to move, shaking everyone around. While they stopped at a few more places, people getting on and off, Steven happened to notice a rather old man—maybe in his 60s or so—just staring at him, not breaking eye contact, and not leaving the bus at any stop.  

What’s his problem?  

Steven shrugged at his reflection in the bus window. He attempted to avoid eye contact with the man, but every time he would glance over, he would find that he continued to have his soul and the beat of his heart with every pump of blood being watched. He flinched slightly as the man moved abruptly, walking right up to Steven but moving past him. Steven sighed with relief; the man must have been looking at something behind him.  

He tensed up once again when he felt something small and sharp press against his lower back. He turned his head slowly down to the source of the sensation, his breath hitching when he saw the shine of silver from a pocketknife, right up against his jacket.  

“Act normal. I just need to talk to you, young man.”  

“Of course, would you like to get off the bus first?” Steven chuckled nervously, swallowing his fear.  

“I don’t think I can quite wait; I think we should talk now.”  

“I’m so sorry, but I think we’ll have to decline your offer,” he said. “I’m not in the mood for a chat persuaded by the use of threats and violence.”  

The knife pressed up even harder against his back, and Marc winced as he took over, looking back at the man with malicious intent.  

“I won’t ask again, boy.”  

Don’t try anything stupid, Marc. You should leave this part to me.  

Marc shook his head subtly, but when the man pushed the knife to the point where he was sure blood was being drawn, he allowed Steven to do the talking.  

“What would you like to talk about?” Steven asked with a gentle smile, hiding his terror.  

“I’d like to talk about the fate you brought to Ammit and her avatar. A fate they did not deserve, a death that has been mourned, all because of you.”  

“What?” he blinked. “I did no such thing,” Steven sounded offended, but at the same time, he was genuine. He turned to face the man and explain his innocence, but as soon as he moved, the knife the man plunged into him. He spat blood from his mouth and doubled over, the knife falling with him.   

“You sinner!” The man spat. “If Ammit were allowed to live, you would’ve been judged before you could’ve gotten the chance to inflict pain to others. That is why I am here, to judge you for her, in honor of our long-lost goddess. Her death was undeserved.”  

“Death...?” Steven hissed from the stinging pain, breathing through his gritted teeth.   

“We didn’t do shit,” Marc spoke, Steven’s afraid and pained expression morphing into Marc’s face of anger. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”  

“They always say that,” The man leaned down as people watched in horror, backed as far away from them as possible. He reached behind Marc and grabbed the knife, twisting it in a circle inside of his wound. “You will get what you deserve: to rot in the duat with all the other guilty souls where you belong.”  

Marc yelled as he was helpless, gasping and panting for air as if it was snatched from him entirely. The man began to yell. “Praise Ammit, praise her works, her effort, and the despair she and her followers were brought all because of Khonshu and his avatar!”  

The man's yelling became faint as Marc became disassociated, everything flicking on and off as it soon faded to black.  

Steven woke up with a shout, finding himself back inside of the subway, the man that had stabbed him now on the ground with the knife through his right eye, impaling his skull. He lay dead on the ground, Steven lifted his shirt to see his absent wound and the fact that it was completely healed and practically untouched. People on the bus watched and stared at him in horror. “Marc…?” he whispered, turning to face his reflection in the window. The reflection shook his head.  

Marc was shaking, staring at his bloody hands and the bloodied man on the floor. He was quick on his feet and fled the scene, prying the doors to the moving bus open and jumping out of the vehicle, watching it drive off with a dead man still inside. His DNA covering everything. He looked around, not recognizing where he was. He started down the road in the direction the bus was already heading. He just couldn’t stay there.  

Marc, what’s happening?  

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I don’t know!” Marc shouted into the rain. He looked around him, his eyes stopping on a lamp post. He walked right up to it and stared at his faded reflection. He didn’t see himself; he saw someone else. It wasn’t Steven, either.  

“This can’t be happening!” Steven exclaimed. “Not again, I can’t go through this again…” he threw his fist into the lamp post, retracting his hand almost immediately with a hiss from the pain of hitting solid steel. He stared hopelessly into the concrete, gripping his hand that was throbbing with pain.   

.  

They reached their flat. Steven was not messing around, and he was not going to let his life be ruined yet again. He grabbed the blue masking tape that sat on his desk, ripping a foot's worth of tape from the rest of it and sticking it on his door, locking both locks. He grabbed the leftover sand as well, pouring some into a bowl and shaking it onto the ring of sand already surrounding his bed, covering the footsteps he had made himself. He climbed into bed, not even getting into night clothes or pajamas, fastening the ankle restraint onto him, breathing heavily.  

Steven, I need you to calm down.  

“Calm down!? How the hell am I supposed to calm down?!” He covered his face with his hands. “We were on a bus, next thing we both knew we were standing before a dead man, his blood on our hands. You expect me to calm down? Huh?”  

You’re panicking, we cannot work out a situation like this during high levels of stress. To better handle these events, we need a calm state of mind. Marc’s cool and assuring behavior was only a façade to hide his own fear.  

“Fuck you, Marc.”  

He didn’t say anything in return. Although Steven was set on taking these precautions to avoid ruining his life, Marc knew that being so paranoid and frantic would be the only thing to ruin his life, and he hated to see it happen. Steven closed his eyes, wanting nothing but to fall asleep and leave his current situation, but also too scared to sleep, too scared of what he may wake up to. “Marc, are you lying to me?” he said after a while, keeping his eyes closed.  

What?  

“Are you lying? Did you do those things? Are you trying to protect me? Because I don’t want you to.”  

Steven, I’m not lying to you. I know how scared you are, if I were truly trying to protect you, I would not be lying to you about such a thing.  

“I don’t believe you.” He spoke. “I don’t believe you...” he whispered. He could feel tears well in his eyes, and he hated it. He felt so pathetic, so vulnerable, and foolish. Nothing but an idiot. And Marc felt bad. He knew he contributed to the feelings Steven was experiencing, but he didn’t know what to do. He only watched as Steven tried not to cry, embarrassed by his fragility.  

Opening his eyes, burning with the hot tears exposed to the cold London air wafting into his flat, he stared at his ceiling. He had felt so at peace and resolved. Everything had been solved and had felt better as he and Marc became fond of one another, and he felt he had closure and answers. He was happy about his new relationship with Layla. But he was scared, scared he was going to lose it all. Of course, after some more thinking, Steven felt he was over exaggerating a lot, and it was just nonsense panic and anxiety creeping into him.  

Therefore, he allowed himself to relax a bit more. He had come to the conclusion that he was simply overthinking it, and he had nothing to worry about. Closing his eyes once more, he got under his covers and turned onto his side, breathing softly. Marc was far from sleeping and wanted to get out, but he couldn’t do that to Steven, he couldn’t make him worry more. But he was restless. Maybe he could go see Layla, maybe that would be a good idea.  

Steven fell asleep, peacefully dreaming about empty nothingness, glimpses of places, people, and things. A rollercoaster of bland black and white imagery to everything full of colors and life, traveling between worlds and dimensions in nothing but an imaginary realm of dreaming, creations of the mind.  

However, Marc was wide awake. He was out and about, using the body to be free. He had called Layla, asking where she was and if he could come over. She was in an apartment building a few miles downtown. Without a vehicle, he decided to meet her at the halfway point. The walk shouldn’t be too bad, he thought. Long story short, he was wrong. He ended up walking for an hour or so, not even close to reaching his destination. A ‘few miles’ was short for about 45 miles. He called her back to ask if she could come to pick him up.  

He waited by the flat for another hour to an hour and a half before she arrived on her motorcycle. “You’re not very good at planning for someone like you.”  

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah,” he stood up from the curb he was sitting on and climbed on behind her, fastening a helmet onto his head which she brought for him, which was actually for Steven, but he didn’t mind the extra safety for someone other than himself.  

“What made you want to stop by?” She asked, keeping her attention towards the road as they drove quickly, having to shout at each other after a bit of talking. He waited until they stopped at an intersection so she could hear him better.  

“Couldn’t sleep. Interesting day, to say the least.”  

“I didn’t want to say it, but you kind of looked like shit back there,” she smiled jokingly, her grin fading as her laugh turned into concern. “What happened?”  

Marc wasn’t sure he wanted to answer, but he was tired of lying. “I’ll tell you when we’re back at your apartment, not here.”  

She nodded quietly, worry keeping her mouth glued shut. The drive was peaceful, the wind blowing Layla’s hair into Marc’s face constantly, blocking his view at certain times. He found it annoying yet amusing.  

.  

He wiped his forehead as he removed the helmet from his head, placing it onto one of the handles of Layla’s motorcycle. They entered the apartment building and then to her own apartment. Marc had been there before; it had just been a while since he last visited. She sat down on her couch and patted the seat next to her, allowing Marc to sit comfortably next to her.  

“Rough day, huh? Tell me about it,” she said, genuinely intrigued as they settled down and she got them both a beer and some chips. There was a small moment of silence.  

“Killed a guy,” he nodded quickly. Her look of curiosity turned into a frown, a hint of worry. “Don’t know how, but it happened.” His voice was rushed and panicked. He was just as scared as Steven, and he hated that it was showing. He had no other way of talking about these things, he was new to it, after all.   

“What do you mean ‘it happened'?” She shook her head in confusion.  

“This guy threatened us, stabbed us, we blacked out, woke up with him dead. We weren’t hurt.” His voice cracked.  

Layla watched him fiddle with his hands, rocking back and forth slightly. “How do you think it happened?”  

He shook his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He hated it. He hated not knowing. It scared him, and it scared Steven. Forgetting a whole event, a whole day, a person, a death, it’s frightening. Trying to search the mind for a memory that doesn't exist or recollection of anything and finding nothing is confusing and frustrating. The human mind, the brain, it holds so much mystery and depth, and when certain things are missing, not everyone can handle it very well.  

“I don’t want to talk about that, I just thought you deserved to know. No more. How have you been?”  

Layla was hesitant. She knew talking about such a thing would be helpful, but she’s known Marc, he’s never wanted to talk about his feelings, and she knew it was difficult for him. So, she let it go. “I’ve been good. I talked with Steven this morning; didn’t you hear?”  

“I did, but I haven’t talked to you.”  

She nodded with a smile. “I’m good, really. I’m just glad you’ve been living with each other so well, referencing how that hasn’t worked out too well in the past.”  

“We made an agreement.”  

“We made an agreement,” Steven said. He stood up abruptly. “We made an agreement!”  

“Steven?” Layla questioned.  

Steven turned away from her. “Where the hell am I? Layla, is this your place?” He looked back at her, and she nodded. “It’s gorgeous, really. I’m so glad I get to be here,” he smiled sweetly. “Where am I?”  

“Um, maybe 50 miles away from your flat?” She wasn’t sure whether she was contributing positively or negatively to the situation.  

“Give me a second, yeah?”  

She nodded, watching him leave the room and enter the bathroom, stopping herself from getting up and following him.  

“You absolute dick!” Steven yelled, pointing at his reflection. Marc looked guilty. “Why the hell are we at Layla’s flat? Bloody hell!” his voice wavered, and he lowered it. “We’ve talked about this, you said you weren’t going to do this without telling me! Do you know how scared I was when I woke up, huh? When I saw us in somewhere I’d never been! You talking casually about what happened on the bus today, changing the subject entirely because you just don’t care! You’ve never cared!” He paced around the small bathroom. “You should be a magician because you are far too good at tricking people. Especially people I know you care about. Why would you do such a thing? Do you ever empathize for even a second? Try imagining it, waking up somewhere you’ve never been not in control of your own body, not to mention after already being scared shitless because we just-” Steven lost his words, becoming quiet and hopeless. “I just need you, for once, to imagine what it’s like for other people.”  

Marc was speechless. So many misunderstandings in such little time.   

Chapter Text

“Is everything alright in there, Steven?” Layla knocked gently. There was no answer. “Steven?” She knocked louder, but no one responded to her call. She leaned into the door, pressing her ear against it to listen for other sounds or any sign of Steven or Marc’s safety, but there was nothing. She went for the door handle slowly, but it swung open before she got the chance to do it herself.  

“Where am I?”  

Layla looked up at him, stepping back to give him room, he lacked Steven’s accent. “Marc? What is going on?”  

“Where am I?” he repeated.  

She hesitated. “...My apartment. You both know this. Why are you asking again?” Layla watched as Marc walked past her, ignoring her and looking around as if he was completely unfamiliar with his surroundings. He did not look in the curious way as Steven did, nor in the admiring way Marc did, he looked around as if he was looking for a way out. “What’s the matter with you, Marc?” Although it was Marc’s name that left her mouth, she doubted it was actually him.   

He turned slowly and looked back at her. “I know who you are,” he said. “And I have no use for you myself, no matter how much you mean to both Marc and Steven, you lack that same importance to someone as myself.”  

“What?” Hopelessly, she watched him leave the apartment and storm off. She ran to her window which faced the main road and leaned out, watching the front door to her apartment building. “Holy shit...” she whispered breathlessly as she watched him transform into the suit she had sworn to herself she would never see again.  

Steven and Marc were clueless about this, Khonshu had not freed them truly, and she had to tell them, she had to help them.  

.  

She had no other idea but to follow him and wait. She jumped out of her apartment window, scaling the building and down to her motorcycle. She looked around in confusion when she found it was no longer there. She grunted in frustration, having no clues or leads to where he could’ve gone. She didn’t know who that was, or how many more there could be, but if Marc and Steven were really keeping it a secret from her, she would not be forgiving them as she had before. She began to run back South from her apartment, back in the direction of Marc and Steven’s flat, seeing if she could catch a bus of some sort heading in that direction. The pouring rain knotted her hair and blinded her view, distorting the far away headlights of cars. She waved her hand wildly, begging for someone to stop as cars zoomed past her. She even turned around and waved to cars driving the way she was going, but no one stopped. She kept running, looking on both sides of the street for bus stops or a possible vehicle she could steal. Eventually, she spotted a motorcycle on the side of the other road, parked along with other cars. She looked both ways and darted for the other side, scanning it for a spare key and finding one on the back wheel. She slipped on a helmet that ended up being too big for her, and she threw it aside entirely and took off. She sped past other cars, cutting dangerously close to skidding the sides of a few cars.  

She later arrived back at Steven’s flat, managing to bypass through the buzzer door and zipping up to his numbered room, using a bobby pin in her pocket to pick lock the door. She panted heavily, searching the flat but found nothing and no one. She kicked the leg to one of the bookshelves in anger, grunting. She picked up her phone and dialed Marc’s number, the contact’s name now changed to both Marc and Steven’s names. It rang as she held it to her ear.  

“Layla?”  

“Marc? Where are you?” her voice was soft but panicked.  

“I’m sorry to say this isn’t the Marc, dear.”  

And she knew it wasn’t Steven either.  

She shook her head, the fear she had anticipated had arrived, and her belief had quickly proven to be true. “Then who is it?”   

“No one you need to know about, Se ñ orita,” he whispered. “If you truly care about both Marc and Steven, and you wish and hope for their protection, then they shall not know about this, sí?”  

Staying silent with nothing to say, she contemplated whether she wanted to agree to these terms. And if she did, would she stick with her words, or would she lie? She felt they deserved to know; however, she had been left in the dark by Marc so often, was it his turn to be left in the same dust? Abandoned? Or had he had enough already?  

“I don’t think...” she bit her tongue. “I think they deserve to know, do they not?”  

“They do not. They would only be put in more danger if they were to know of my presence. That is why I need you to promise they won’t be hearing about this, and they won’t have knowledge of this.”  

“And what if I don’t promise?”  

“Then you would be endangering them, and the despair and pain that follow will be on your hands. I know you don’t want that.”  

“What are you doing that’s so dangerous? Why is it so important to you that they stay clueless and left behind?”  

“I’m afraid I can speak of that with no one, not even you, my dear.”  

There was a click from the other line, and a long beep following it. She drew the phone away from her ear. She grunted in frustration, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She sat down on Steven’s bed, thinking. She glanced at Gus and Gus II. She walked up to the tank and admired them, moving onto the other side of the tank which had postcards along the side of it. She took a few of them down, looking them over, both who they were from and what they read. They were all from Marc’s mom, except it wasn’t. They were all to Steven, all from places she supposedly visited. But they were really all from Marc. He had written them all for Steven, playing and contributing to his fake reality in which his mom was still alive and that she loved him. She admired the fact that as big as a burden Marc painted Steven as, he did everything he could to protect him, and make him feel safe.  

.  

Marc woke up suddenly, the cold floor he rested on stinging his face. He peeled himself from the concrete floor he lay on. He sat halfway up and examined his surroundings. It looked as though he was inside an underground parking garage, but it was fully empty. He stood up, turning in every direction for an exit or a sign of human presence. But there was none. “Steven?” He heard no response. He saw color in the distance, and he soon realized it was a singular car. He ran to it, feeling around the navy-blue car for a spare key or an unlocked door. He attempted to peer inside the tinted windows, but it was too dark to see.  

He looked around once more, then used his elbow to break the window in. He stepped back almost immediately with a grimace, covering his nose to the new horrible stench that had laid inside the car. He walked up to it, holding the top of his shirt to cover his nose, looking inside. “Oh my god...” he whispered. He was horrified by what he saw. He gazed down at a dead man, rotting in the seat he sat in. Flinching backward, the shirt dropped from his face as he began to run far away from that car. Glancing back and forth through the large garage, he saw a large door of light, which appeared to be an entrance.  

He sprinted for it, hoping to find it was a real entrance and not an illusion of his mind. He left the garage, searching where he was.  

It was day, and the sun blared down on him with aggressive heat. This was not London weather. He searched for his phone and was lucky enough to find it in his back pocket. Dialing Layla’s number and holding it to his ear, he walked along the sidewalk to a buzzing city, looking around him for street names or anything to reference the area he was in.  

“Marc?”  

“Layla!” He chuckled in relief.  

“Marc! Where the hell are you? It’s been days!” Her relieved voice turned into concern and worry, but a hint of frustration.  

“...Days?” he whispered.  

Layla didn’t answer. “Where are you?”  

“I was going to ask the same thing,” he paused for a moment. “Say, what’s the weather like where you are?”  

“Are you joking?”  

“What’s the weather?”  

“Really?” she scoffed. “I haven’t been able to reach you since you stormed out of my apartment days ago and the first thing you ask is about the weather. What the hell’s wrong with you?”  

“Just answer, please.”  

There was a frustrated sigh and a moment of silence. “It’s raining.”  

Marc’s anxiety crept up on him. He held the receiver of the phone away from him. “Steven, you there?” he waited for an answer, glancing into his reflection in a window of a shop he was in front of. There was no response, and his reflection stayed true to his movements. He kicked a glass bottle that lay on the floor; it shattered into pieces as it hit the wall and spread across the sidewalk floor. He was frustrated. He couldn’t get a single day of peace. “Layla, I…” he bit his lip. “I think I blacked out again.”  

“What do you mean?”  

Marc held his breath and began walking again, Layla didn’t protest his silence. Passing a few more corners, glancing at street names that gave him no clue, his heart practically dropped when he turned to face a large billboard. It was nothing but an advertisement for a car wash. It read ‘Stop by the best car wash in the whole Golden State!’ and at the bottom, there was more. ‘Built and established here in California since 1982’.  

He brought the phone back up to his ear, stuttering on his words. “Do you mind lending me some money? I... I’m in a bit of a tight situation right now.”  

“What?”  

“I’m in California right now, Layla. I need to get back as soon as possible I have no idea how the hell I ended up here but I don’t intend on prolonging my stay please understand I didn’t do this. I didn’t do this.” he blurted out.  

Layla bit her lip. She knew it wasn’t him, and although she was angry and frustrated with him, she had no choice but to understand. “I’ll get you the next flight back here, call you back with more details. In the meantime, please stay out of trouble, and try not to let Steven know this happened, he was angry enough with you at the apartment.”  

She hung up, leaving Marc stranded in the middle of California with no one to go to and nowhere to stay. He didn’t even have money for something as simple as a hotel room. He paced quickly through the streets and sidewalks and crossing intersections, finding somewhere hidden and discreet.  

He found himself in an alleyway, hidden in between abandoned buildings with no one in sight. He leaned forward, peering into the reflection of a boarded-up window. Searching the floor beneath him, he found a small piece of fabric. Wrapping it around his fist, he riled it up and punched a hole through the window, clearing away the remnants of the glass and kicking back the wood that blocked it. He discarded the fabric and stepped inside the dark building. He had no idea what it could’ve been before, but that didn’t matter to him as he searched the place.  

Finding what used to be a bathroom, he stepped inside and searched the numerous stalls to make sure no one else had the same idea of hiding out. When he found he was safe, he stepped up to the long and wide mirror, staring at himself in the dark light. He switched on the light switch that sat on the wall, and to his surprise, the luminescent lights stuttered on and flickered above him. He attempted to slow his breathing, calming his nerves. But it didn’t work as well as he wanted it to, because he still shook. “Steven, I know you’re scared, but I need you to come out. I need you to at least let me know you’re still here.”  

His voice wavered. He knew Steven was scared, and he was completely disregarding what Layla told him. But he was scared too. He was capable of fear, and that was something he did not always like to admit.  

He noticed his reflection move and walk away from him slightly. He sighed in relief, letting his head drop. “You almost had me worried.”  

Steven remains blocked from your consciousness.  

“What?” he looked back up at the mirror.  

You are protecting him self-consciously. He is not here and will not be here until we return to London. But sadly, we cannot be returning to London as soon as you may like.  

“Who are you?”  

Irrelevant. All I’m telling you is the fact that we must remain here until you suddenly wake up back at home. You were not supposed to even know of my existence. However, if you continued to talk to nobody in the mirror like an idiot, you would surely spiral into a psychotic episode if you found Steven would no longer be able to speak with you. I am not letting that happen.  

Marc stared hopelessly into this mysterious person who resembled himself. But he refused to believe it was him. “At least tell me your name before you abandon me completely?”  

I can’t.  

“Then what the hell’s going to happen, huh? Am I just stuck here until ‘further notice’ or what?” He made air quotes while he spoke. “You don’t expect me to stay here, do you?”  

I don’t. That is why I will not be allowing you to leave.  

“Yeah, you can keep believing that. But I am taking that first flight home and you can try and do whatever shit you’re trying but I’m not going to let that happen.”  

His reflection stayed silent.  

“I’m getting out of here,” Marc began to step through the door.  

You deny, refuse, sabotage, or interfere with my plans at all and Steven will not forgive you.  

Marc turned slowly, stepping back up to himself in the mirror. “What does that even mean?”  

If you mess this up, Steven will find out. One wrong move and he will remember what happened here. But he will not remember me. All he will remember is you, breaking the arrangement you two made. He will believe that you broke all the trust he poured into you, and he will never be the same.  

Marc threw a harsh punch into the glass, watching his shatter to mere shards surrounding the impact point of his fist. But he saw himself through the scattered pieces. “You leave Steven out of this you piece of shit.”  

Then allow me to do what I need to do.  

“What about Layla?”  

Layla will be fine.  

“...Fine. Then have it your way. But promise me, Steven and Layla will be safe,” his voice fell to a whisper. “Promise me.”  

I promise.  

Chapter Text

WAKE UP!  

Marc shouted as his upper body threw itself up. He panted heavily as he put a hand to his chest in an attempt to tame his wildly beating heart. Looking around, his heart slowing along with his breathing, he became aware.  

A hotel room bed conformed to his body comfortably. The cool air brushed against his bare chest. He was also stripped of his pants, and he flinched. He got out of bed, searching the hotel room. Luckily, there was no sign of anyone else ever being present in the room. With a small spark of relief from his body, he walked over to the window, tugging back the curtain. His eyes examined the parking lot, searching for a street name or any indication of where he was. It was not California, and that was obvious. The cloudy sky and the pattering of rain on the concrete accompanied by evergreen trees brutally beaten around by the harsh wind gave it away.   

“Is it my turn?” Marc asked with a joking tone, but at the same time, he was serious. His eyes glanced to the corner of the window.  

Yeah. For now.   

He nodded. “So, can you at least tell me where I am?”  

Not too far from the flat. I at least tried to get you somewhat closer to home. Your goal is to get there as quickly as possible; it won’t be long until Steven tries to take over.  

“Does he not know?”  

There was a shake of his reflection's head.  

I’ve tried my best to ensure Steven is clueless. I know there was a promise between the two of you, but he will be safer this way.  

Marc stared at the floor. He felt guilty. “What’s your name?”  

I assume it’s about time for a Q&A, isn’t it?  

“Yeah, you’re damn right,” Marc nodded as he continued to stare at the view of this mysterious location. “So, tell me.”  

I don’t think I should.  

“Why? What is there to hide? What danger would it put you or me in if you were to share something as simple as a name?”  

None. Not to you or me, at least, but rather Steven.  

“What difference does it make?”  

Steven is not like you, and he is not like me. We both know that. Your life goal was to protect him, I assure you it’s not worth it to quit now. He is the only reason you have made it so far in life, you don’t want to jeopardize it, do you?  

Marc shook his head.   

So, whatever I tell you, do you promise that it will stay with you and you only?  

“What about Layla?”  

Layla Layla Layla, all about Layla. Yes, the señora knows of my presence, but she shall not know anything more than that.  

“No, I don’t promise.”  

Then you don’t get the answers you want.  

There was a silence between the two. While Marc wanted the answers to his questions, he would hate to leave Layla in the dark as he’s done before. “Can she at least know your name?”  

...Yes.  

“Then what is it?”  

Jake Lockley.   

“Nice to finally get to know you, Jake.” Marc’s words had small hints of anger or frustration in them, he didn’t seem particularly fond of Jake. Not yet, at least. “Next question; why so secret?”  

You have secrets too, no? Your service as Khonshu’s avatar was a secret to all, was it not?  

“You didn’t answer the question. Which is why.”  

There are certain things better left unknown. Maybe, over time, you can learn more. But knowledge of secrets takes trust and time, and trust has to be earned.  

“Why do you talk like a poet?” Marc turned away from the curtain, letting it fall back to cover the daylight. He opened the mini fridge and took out a beer, surprised by the expensive brand. He just hoped it didn’t come from his own pocket. He popped it open using the edge of the TV stand, taking a swig before turning back to the bed. There was a small bag on the side of the bed, and he rummaged through it before finding an outfit to slip on. “You can talk normally, you know?"  

Yeah, but when someone’s trying to be mysterious, you usually find them talking all poetic, it contributes to the atmosphere.  

“I see,” Marc nodded, not actually caring about the answer he received. “So, how is this going to work? Are you just going to take over without notice or what?”  

I won’t lie to you, that’s pretty much it.  

“Yeah, I’m not cool with that.”  

That’s how it has to be.  

“Sure,” Marc sighed. He picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder, searching the hotel room to make sure there was nothing left that could’ve been his. “Knowing that it will most likely be a long time before you have the body again.”  

Okay, let’s see how you can handle that.  

Marc huffed, leaving the hotel room as he continued to sip from the beer bottle in his hand. He checked out under Jake’s name and left. From the lack of keys on his person, he assumed he didn’t have a vehicle. Still.  

“Shit!”  

Steven's job. They had completely missed his first day and who knows how long it’s been since that happened. He fished his pockets for his flip phone, breathing out a huff of air in relief when it was still on him. Calling Layla, he held onto his bag tightly as the heavy winds threatened to whisk it away. “Layla! I need to ask you a favor.”  

.  

“Three weeks?!” Marc rested his elbows on his knees, gripping his hair in stress. Layla nodded with pursed lips.  

“I’m really sorry.”  

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Layla. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”  

“You had no idea Jake existed either, I’m just glad you know now. But there was no way for you to do anything at the moment, just take a moment to relax, yeah? Who knows what your body has been through in the past three weeks.”  

It’s true, it had been three weeks since Marc and Steven had been back with Layla in her apartment. He was now on a train with Layla, sitting opposite side of her. She had been in the area, searching for him ever since Jake left with the both of them trapped inside the same body, helpless to whatever was going on around them. She picked him up immediately after getting his call, now taking a train back to London. Jake was right when he said they weren’t far, it was only a few hours.  

“Well,” Marc sighed. “The museum people were very considerate, maybe they’ll forgive him or just have some kind of subtle punishment. Anything would be better than him losing his job or not even getting it in the first place. Dammit!”  

“What?”  

“How the hell am I supposed to fix Steven’s problem without him knowing we haven’t had the body for weeks. How would I cover that up?”  

“Sleep on it. I’m serious. Take a moment to unwind.”  

“I can’t. I can’t keep lying to him! I can’t keep him in the dark! I’m past that. But... Jake. He can’t know about Jake.”  

How are you going to refuse to lie to him but then turn around and say you have no choice but to lie to him?  

“That’s your fault, jackass. You’re the one that told me I had to. And... oh just drop it.”  

“Sorry?”  

“No, no, it’s nothing. Just... him.” Marc glanced back at the train window, and Layla nodded subtly with understanding.  

Layla leaned forward, extending her hands to take Marc’s. “Marc,” she spoke softly. “At least wait until we get back to your flat before stressing out so much. Because there you’ll feel safer, and more in control. You can figure out everything then.”  

Marc looked up at her with sunken eyes. He now knew what Steven must have felt when Marc made his first appearance. However, that fact only made him feel worse about the current situation. He went up and kissed Layla softly on her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered.  

.  

Back home, safe within the comfort of Steven’s belongings, Marc broke down. He practically collapsed into the bed, gripping his hair and grimacing as he held back his frustration. He had asked Layla to wait outside and get something, but that was just a silly excuse so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself. Not only that but he remembered what Jake said, about both her and Steven’s safety if they were to know too much.  

“I mean, we could go over there now and try to explain and cover everything up before we let Steven get to them first. So, it will be like that never happened.”  

What about the simple passage of time? Will he not notice that three weeks have passed?  

“You are making this so complicated.”  

There was no response, most likely because Jake could not defend himself. It was indeed his fault that three weeks had passed without notice.  

You could pretend that you were also unconscious for three weeks. And well, you were, but you could pretend you know nothing about it. You could be left in the unknown together rather than apart. And although Steven may be scared, unlike other times, he will feel he is not alone.  

“It’s worth a shot,” Marc breathed. He had no ideas left. Silence rung in Marc’s ears far too loud for him. “I have another question,” he looked over to the small mirror hanging on the wall, seeing Jake observing him with a nonchalant posture.  

Ask away.  

“Why were we in Cali? Why did it take you three weeks and you couldn’t even take us all the way back home?”  

Business. I have a life just like the two of you, and sometimes it requires the use of travel. As to the reason that’s something I can’t tell you just yet.  

Marc groaned as he turned his head back to the ceiling. “Are you going to be expecting this body back any time soon?”  

...Hopefully not. As much as I enjoy having control, I still have a heart, I can’t let Steven be left in that little mind of yours much longer.  

“Will you tell us when you need to?”  

Do you mean just give you notice?  

“You said you had business, I assume that stuff doesn’t give you much notice, but I would appreciate some. And I would appreciate you communicating with Layla before you ruin our relationship.”  

I thought you were doing a pretty good job of that yourself.  

Marc shook his head, turning his body away from the mirror fully, laying his head on his hand, and sighing. Just as he thought he may have been able to live peacefully, he was immediately stripped of that right.  

Yes. I will give notice if I must.  

There was silence.  

I know. Marc, if I could tell you, I would. But I just can’t, and one day you’ll find out why. But that day is not today.  

“Yeah, sure.”  

-Three Weeks Earlier-  

“Are you sure?” Jake glanced up at Khonshu with question as they waited in a small taxi car.  

Are you having doubts?  

Jake shook his head profusely. “No, no. Not at all. Just a question.”  

I’ll allow it.  

“What’s our goal here?” he tilted his head as his question had a hint of urgency. “We killed Ammit and Harrow, who are these other people?”  

Khonshu shook his head softly, the long beak of his skull threatening to hit the seat in front of him. I’m afraid you ask questions that could jeopardize our relationship. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Without me, you’re defenseless, useless, and Steven and Marc would be prone to death. You don’t want that, do you?  

“No,” he shook his head, his eyes falling to the car window, away from Khonshu.  

Remember what I give you. Remember what you have. And think about the reality where you lose it, and think to yourself, why? The answer will almost always be because of something you did. Your mistake. Your wrongs.  

Jake bit his lip, beginning to contemplate his decisions, but his crisis was cut short by Khonshu’s signal. Jake got down in the back seat, hiding as the driver entered the Taxi. When the man settled down in his seat, Jake did the job before he could begin to drive. Using a few feet of rope, he wrapped it swiftly around the man's neck, pulling on it as his head was now trapped against the head of the car seat. Jake struggled as it turned out this man was not weak and indeed knew how to get out of a situation as fatal as this one. Maneuvering his hands around the head of the seat, he took out a pocket knife and began to saw at the rope. Jake pulled harder on the rope, using his feet as leverage. The car shook as the man thrashed, and the sounds of his choking filled the small space of the vehicle.  

Jake! Get rid of the knife!  

Jake thought quickly and grabbed the man by his wrist, stopping him before the rope could snap. He didn’t even have to hold down the rope for the man was far gone. His choking stopped and his body loosened, his arm and hand falling with a thud.  

“Dios mío...”  

Chapter Text

What the fuck did you just do?  

Jake walked down the long empty road, hands in his pockets with a newsboy hat on his head. He looked to his left, confused by the small voice in his head.  

What the hell was that?!

His vision fell down to the road, a small stream falling beside the curb into the gutter as rain patted down harshly. He met eyes with his reflection and stopped walking. “Marc?” Marc fumed as he waited for an answer. “Please, I don’t want any misunderstandings here, if you will let me talk, I can tell you everything.”  

I don’t want to know everything. I want to know what just happened.  

Don’t tell him. He can’t know the truth. You shouldn’t have let him see that in the first place.  

“No.”  

What?  

Jake began to walk again, the wind threatening to whisk away the hat on his head and reveal his face. The face of someone who is struggling with a great dilemma. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, hiding his expressions with a blank poker face. “But my life is not yours to interfere with. Say nothing to no one, and you will not be seeing anything like this again.”  

You got something to hide? We share a body, Jake, you can’t keep secrets between us.  

“But you did. Would I not just be following your steps?”  

Marc didn’t respond to that comment.   

.  

Jake sat at a restaurant, sipping a glass of white wine as his eyes danced from person to person. “Who am I looking for?”  

A man. He should be dressed in a retro jacket and black bootleg jeans.  

“At a place like this?” He scoffed. “What’s his name?”  

You don’t need to know that. Just get eyes on him, follow him into the bathroom when he goes, and just have a friendly ‘chat’.  

“Can I ask why?”  

No.  

Jake nodded, accepting the fact he could not change, taking the last sip of his wine and asking for another pour. Just as the waiter left his table, he saw the man Khonshu was talking about. It was very easy to spot him, and he left for the bathroom straight away. Jake acted quickly, standing up from his seat abruptly and following the man. He gripped the gun in the inside pocket of his jacket, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He took a deep breath and released a wall in his mind.  

He watched discreetly as the man took his spot at a urinal and began to do his thing. Jake washed his hands to act normal and took a moment to look in the mirror.  

Where are we?  

“Restaurant,” he whispered.   

Why?  

Jake nodded at the mirror without another word. Marc watched as the man flushed the toilet and walked up to the sink next to Jake’s. Without even a word of conversation Jake reached into his jacket pocket and removed the gun quickly. He pointed it at the man, and gave him time to react. For a reason unknown to even him. He cocked the gun with his finger on the trigger and turned it back to his face, pressing it against his forehead and pulling the trigger.  

NO!  

.  

Steven woke up.  

His hands were cuffed behind his back as he lay on the floor of a rather disgusting bathroom. He lifted his head and looked around. There was no one. No sounds of sirens, no cops, no people, just a bathroom.  

He struggled to sit himself up, but once he did, he looked around for any clue as to what happened. He saw a gun on the floor, a piece of paper with writing, and a key. He turned himself and fumbled with it, surprised that it was the key to unlock his cuffs. He opened the letter and read it carefully.  

‘I don’t know why you did that. But I have a feeling I’ve experienced exactly what you’re going through. I put cuffs on for your own safety, take them off when you feel like you won’t kill yourself. I locked the bathroom door for you until you woke up, the key is under the trash can. Don’t come after me again, and no one will know about what happened here today.’  

The paper fell to the floor gently as Steven gripped his hair tightly. “This is not happening this is not happening this is not happening this is not happening!” He whispered endlessly. He came to his senses for only a moment and found the key under the garbage can, unlocking the bathroom door. He swiftly picked up the note and the gun, tucking them back under his jacket and trying to act normal.  

He rushed out of the restaurant as fast as he could, and luckily, not one person said a thing about his rushed exit or the fact that he had left without paying for any of the expensive wines he drank.  

“Bollocks, where the bloody hell am I?” he looked around, clueless.  

Don’t worry, I’ll get us back home.  

“What?”  

Trust me.  

.  

Jake read the note and caressed the bridge of his nose. “My god...” he muttered. He tucked it in his pocket and called a Taxi, requesting to be taken back to the flat. He wanted nothing more but to sleep.  

“Are you one for small talk?” The driver asked him.  

“No, sorry.”  

“All good, there’s a reason I ask, after all.”  

Jake stared out the window as he contemplated his situation. He should not have survived that. It should’ve killed him. He wished it did. But Khonshu protected him. A beautiful curse.   

You didn’t kill him.  

“No, I didn’t,” Jake’s whispers were drowned out by the driver's music.  

You’ll have to go back, you know that? You will have to find him again and finish the job. Remember what I told you.  

“How could I forget?” he said with a faltering smile.  

I’ll be back. After you sleep. After you get your senses back.  

There was more silence as his mind ran blank.  

Care to explain?  

“No.”  

Wonderful.  

“Steven,” he said.  

What?  

“Steven saw. He saw the gun and the note.”  

Jesus Christ.  

There was silence.  

You know what, you figure this out. This isn’t my problem if I’m being completely honest with you. He knows I wouldn’t do that to him. You have to tell him who you are and tell him what you’ve done. And you face the consequences. I have done nothing wrong here. It’s all been you.  

“Thanks. Appreciate the encouragement.”  

You don’t deserve any.  

Jake nodded with acceptance, feeling Marc was right.   

When he made it to the flat, he undressed down to nothing but his boxers and collapsed onto the bed. Sighing as he comforted himself with the soft duvet covers, making a small border with it. He felt safe and surrounded by the bedding. And he allowed himself to drift away, no longer caring whether he woke up back in the body or not.  

And slept he did. Living through the chaos of his dreams and relishing in the feeling of being free.   

Jake, at first, liked the sound of the offer Khonshu gave him, and took it gladly. But, after a long time, he realized what it entailed. He realized there was more to the job he was given than he first thought, and he wanted out. But there were no loopholes in their deal, there was no way out. The offer had been given with thought and caution. He didn’t like what he was being made to do, but he could not. He couldn’t even ask. And he couldn’t die. Even if he tried, it would mean the death of both Steven and Marc as well. He couldn’t do that to them. And he couldn’t do that to Layla.   

It was as though he was drowning, fighting for air while hundreds of feet underwater.  

.  

To his dread, Jake woke in the same body he fell asleep in. Preparing breakfast, miserable and tired, he picked up and examined shards of glass that sat on the kitchen floor. He casually sprinkled it in his morning sandwich, placing a piece of bread atop it.  

He ate it with no problem. He ignored the spurts and tingles of glass shredding his tongue and the inside of his mouth. He swallowed it, feeling the glass slash the inside of his throat. He finished his sandwich and lay in bed, awaiting the relief of death.  

He wished.  

Pieces of fabric wrapped themselves around him, conforming to his figure and tightening itself. With closed eyes, he felt disgusted as the wounds in his mouth and in his body healed, body tissue regenerating at a scarily fast rate.  

The armor left him, dissipating into nothing. He opened his eyes and sighed. It was as if nothing happened.  

Is something wrong?  

“Yes.”  

And that is...?  

“You.”  

Ah, can’t say I haven’t heard that one before. May I ask why? You seemed so eager to work for me until now. What changed?  

“I’ll admit, I was. Until you’ve recently been having me kill people for no reason. And every time I ask, you tell me nothing. I may be a killer, but there’s a line. I have morals.”  

Sure.  

“That’s it?”  

That’s it.  

“Fuck you.”  

Say what you want. Do what you want, but you will not be free. Not until you finish the job.  

“What job, huh? When does it end? How many more missions until I’m done with this?”  

I thought you were different, Jake. Marc and Steven wanted nothing more than to leave me and be free. You’re talented. Smart. I was excited to have you back on my team. It’s a shame that you’ve turned as well.  

“Just leave me alone.”  

You’ve proved yourself loyal for quite some time. I’ll give you a break. The missions I have for you are not time sensitive.   

And Jake did not hear Khonshu again. He wished it would stay that way, but he knew he would be back. He would have to savor his ‘break’ while it lasted. Meanwhile, his reflection watched him from afar.  

Both Marc and Steven stood in the back of Jake’s mind, speechless.