Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘I had no loving arms to hold me, every day I wake up, then I start to break up, lonely is a man without love.’

Steven groaned as the song woke him up, rubbing his eyes as the lyrics rolled over him. The bed creaked with his every movement, complaining as much as he was at him leaving the warm covers. As he sat up the duvet slipped off him, leaving a crumpled mess behind that he would clean up later. He reached for the alarm clock and tapped the button at the top. He then tapped again when the first one didn’t stop the song emanating from it. He paused before his feet touched the floor, but after only a second he set them down and stood.

Now that he was standing, he may as well start getting ready.

The heat of the shower was welcoming from the slight chill of his flat, the early autumn chill seeping through the cracks of the old building. He had considered moving out, finding a new flat that had better heating and cooling, but new flats were few and far between, with prices that matched their rarity. He also had grown attached to the little building; it had served them well. It had been home to them for a bit over eight years and had seen them come and go. It had seen them grow, laugh, cry, pull all nighters, and stay in bed from sunrise to sunset. It had seen them get their degrees and, after, their doctorates.

He was pulled from his wandering thoughts of the flat by someone pushing against his thoughts, and he sighed. He rinsed off and shut the water, giving a silent reminder that he had a guest lecture today, and he would prefer to be the one fronting during it. It was good enough to get whomever it was to back off, which he was thankful for, so he continued through his routine.

After he had finished his breakfast he went to get the mail, a wave of excitement rushing over him at the postcard. The picture at the front was of one of the pyramids in Peru, big letters across the bottom in cursive saying, ‘wish you were here’. At the back of the card was a small note, and signed at the end of it was Layla’s signature, in the bouncy letters he always saw in her notes. He tried to hold back the grin, but it was obvious he couldn’t help it.

He went inside a tiny bit quicker than usual, feet taping a quiet rhythm as he made his way through the building and back into his flat. As he opened the door he tapped at his phone, typing in the number he had memorized their first year. It rang a few times, and Steven felt his heart beat a little faster, hoping that today she would be picking up. Unfortunately, after the fourth ring it went to voicemail, and he had to hold back a sigh as the recording played. He could at least hear her voice, he supposed.

“Hallo, love. It’s Steven, if you couldn’t tell by the accent. Just, ugh, saying hello.” He moved to the fish tank, holding the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he pinned the postcard to Gus’ tank, “I got your postcard. Wow, Peru, the old pigeon’s keeping you on your toes, huh?” He chuckled a bit, but quickly sobered up, “I know you’re busy, but could you call, when you can? I’m getting quite worried about you not letting us know you’re okay, and I’m sure we all miss talking to you.”

He started to change into his work clothes, putting the phone on speaker as he went about. He paused his speaking for a moment, subtly poking about his mind, before sighing. “I really think talking to Marc would help him. He’s taking our mother’s passing the worst of all of us, and maybe you can cheer him up? I’ve been trying, obviously, it’s not like I’d put everything on you, but nothing I’ve done has worked.”

He shook his head as he left the flat and started heading to the bus stop, “Anyway,” he tried to brush off the feeling of inequity the recent months had brought him, and continued, “otherwise we’re doing well. Still working at the museum, but I feel like I’m really close to our big break. I’m sure that, this time next year, we’ll be looking about for artifacts. Maybe even together, boy, that’s a thought.”

Steven gave the man selling brushes outside the door a quick nod, walking around the stand, and then turned his attention back to Layla. Or, more accurately, her voicemail. “Do call back when you can, yeah? We all miss you, even Jake.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bus approaching it’s stop. “Well, I got to go. It was lovely speaking to you, laters gators,” He hung up.

_

Steven was a little late to his job. Not a lot late, maybe five or so minutes, and he was rarely late in general, but it was still enough to get Donna on his ass if he came across her when he got in. Honestly seemed like she hated him, ever since he had gotten the job as a giftshopest eight years ago. He had gotten a better position since then, becoming a tourguide after he had gotten his degree, but she still seemed to like to make his life suck, even if she wasn’t technically his boss anymore.

As he ran up the stairs of the building, trying to not be anymore late than he already was, he noticed the banners advertising the new Ancient Egypt exhibit, and couldn’t help but laugh a little at how two of the gods were missing. The most notable, at least to him, was a certain god of the moon.

JD didn’t seem to notice him entering, which made him slightly less worried that Donna was going to realize he was late. Maybe he was too confident, though, as after he took a few seconds to hopefully get a child interested, or terrified, of Ancient Egypt for life, he heard a loud cough behind him. Donna stood there, arms crossed and chewing at some sort of gum she always seemed to have on hand.

“What are you doing, Stevie?” her tone held no interest, only annoyance. She didn’t even let him speak before continuing, “I don’t want to hear it, actually. I’d suggest you get to your table and stay there.”

And with that she was gone, not even listening to Steven correct her with his name. He wasn’t even sure why he still tried to correct her, it’s not like she’d ever listened.

There was another push at the back of his mind, and this time he knew for sure it was Jake. The annoyance of Jake seeped into him but, like a hand resting close to a fire, but not close enough to burn, Steven didn’t let the burning heat of Jake’s emotions overtake him. He was good at it, too, better than Marc was, and he’d known about them the longest. Well, at least longer than Steven.

When he arrived at the tour guide station, he noticed the others were standing around, grouped closely together. It turned out that one of them had brought coffee for the others. Steven didn’t grab one, not interested in drinking the coffee, and already having had a tea on the bus, but he stuck around to listen to the others speaking. They all had interesting stories to tell, so he always liked listening, even if it did mean nobody was actually speaking to him.

A few times he noticed one of the tour guides, Dylan, staring at him. She had been working there as a guide for about the same time he has, maybe a little less. She was a couple years younger then him, probably about Layla’s age or younger, and he didn’t know her very well. Every time he caught her looking at him he felt a bit weird, he was married, after all.

It was times like this he wished he could flash his wedding ring, but he couldn’t do that anymore. Marc had apparently lost it six months before, and they hadn’t been able to go out with Layla to get another one because of all her travels. At first he had been upset at the loss, but Marc had seemed so nervous that Steven just couldn’t stay mad.

He was able to avoid Dylan until his tour arrived, for which he was glad. He liked Dylan, of course, she seemed to be a lovely young woman and was incredibly intelligent. It wasn’t that he hated Dylan, he just loved Layla.

_

The day passed by quickly, and Steven wasn’t sure whether to be happy about it or not. He knew that was just nerves talking, though, and the dread that normally came about when you were going to lecture in front of nearly two hundred people. He still hadn’t gotten used to it, even after the multiple lectures he had given about the myths and rituals of Ancient Egypt and their continued use throughout the Greek and Roman empires. Recently it had gotten worse, though. He presumed that it was because Layla was rarely in the country anymore, so she wasn’t there to calm his nerves, and Marc had withdrawn since… Jake helped a lot, but he tended to come and go without warning, so he couldn’t always be there when Steven needed encouragement.

So, for the first time in almost ten years, Steven felt alone, isolated.

He enjoyed the lecture though. It was a fourth-year class, so everyone seemed at least a little interested. A few students even asked questions during the lecture, and a couple came up to him later to ask a few overall questions and thank him. It reminded him a bit of the classes he enjoyed being the TA of, students partaking in the material and all that.

On the way home he called Layla again, talking about how wonderful the class had been, and how excited he was to see her the next day.

He was pretty sure she was visiting then. She must. It was in her letter, after all.

_

The sun glared through their flat’s windows, going straight into his eyes as he was woken up. He turned his head into the pillow, covering his head with one of his arms to block out as much light as possible, and tried to get back to sleep. It was Friday, after all, and he didn’t have work.

He stayed like that for probably thirty minutes, or it could have been more, until his stomach growled, finally getting him to fully wake himself. The first thing he did after leaving his bed was make himself a bowl of oatmeal. As the oats warmed, he took a glance at the calendar and swore.

It was Sunday.

He wasn’t angry at Marc or Jake, of course. They could control it just as much as he could. Still, it was always a bit disappointing when he realized he had lost the weekend, basically going from workday to workday without any time for rest.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the oatmeal being finished. He sprinkled a little sugar and cinnamon on them, deciding that he deserved a treat if he wasn’t getting a weekend, and sat on the couch, flipping through the channels to find something good. In the end he settled on a documentary he had already watched about pre-historical humans. It was still interesting, of course, and he made a mental note to tell Layla about it that night when he called her.

_

The phone rung its regular tune, four of the exact same rings, spaced evenly about, before there would be a click and would send him to voicemail. Every day he hoped that something would change, that instead of the click and pre-recorded message he would hear Layla, different and happy and real. Alive, not in danger or, at least, safe enough.

His hope to hear her was beginning to fade as the third ring echoed in his ear.

Then there was a click, before the fourth tone rang out. A change from the daily cycle. Steven held his breath, waiting for a moment for the recording, but all that he was met with was silence.
“Hello?” he finally dragged out, feeling the hair on the back of his neck begin to raise. Maybe this was a bad idea. Surely, she would have spoken by now.

“Who is this?” a man’s voice asked on the other side of the phone. Behind the voice there were others speaking a different language. The language was vaguely European, though he couldn’t decern enough to tell which language it was.

“I should be asking you the same question, mate. Why do you have my wife’s phone?” a host of different reasons why this man had Layla’s phone flew through his mind, but one worried him the most. He felt both Marc and Jake push on the edge of his consciousness. Not forcing him away, but willing to do so if necessary. “Have you kidnaped her?”

The voice behind the screen took a moment to answer, perhaps trying to figure out what to tell him. This did not ease his anxiety. “No, I just found this sell phone in a” a pause “in a hotel room. I wanted to know who it belongs to, to return it. You’re one of the only saved contacts.”

Steven’s heart started to slow its rapid beating, though he wasn’t convinced about the story. Not yet. “I don’t know where she is at the moment, so I suppose you can just keep it. Or maybe wait for her to come back.”

“I don’t think she’s coming back,”

And it was back. The tenseness in his shoulders, the growing worry that left a hole in the stomach and made you ill. “What do you mean by that?”

The tone that signaled the end of the call played, and Steven took a step back. Then another. Then he was falling into his bed, and he couldn’t force himself to get up. For the next hour he called her again and again, desperately trying to learn something, anything from whomever had her phone. Then Jake took over, swearing and yelling threats at the voicemail box as it proved to be nothing but an annoyance.

_

Marc disappeared after the ominous statement about Layla by the mystery man. That is, until a few days later when Steven went to sleep and woke up on the bus, headed in the exact opposite direction of his workplace. Before he left the bus and started making his way to work, he was stopped by Marc in the reflection, looking worried.

“I think we’re being followed.” He said, and Steven paused. He took a quick glance around the bus, trying to not seem suspicious. When he couldn’t find anyone, he turned back to Marc, question clear in his expression. “Behind you, eight o’clock. Long hair, red clothing.”

Steven looked back at the reflection in the glass, following Marc’s directions to the man behind him and, yup, the man did seem to be watching him.

“Let me take over,” Marc continued, “I can lose him. He might be dangerous, and you can’t fight.”

Steven took great offence to that, glaring at the mirror for a moment before heading off at the next stop, putting in some headphones so it would look like he was in a call and not actually talking to himself.

“I’m not useless,” Steven muttered as he walked down the sidewalk, looking at his shoes.

“You’re not,” Marc said, mirroring his walking in the glass building next to him, “but there are some things that me and Jake can do, and you can’t, just like how Jake knows nothing about Ancient Egypt.”

“Ey, I know more than you, asshole” Jake appeared in the glass of a parked car, glaring, “I actually took notes in Steven’s classes, unlike some people.”

“Which would’ve been helpful, if they weren’t all in Spanish. Steven had to learn Spanish at the same time he learned Latin, ancient Egyptian, and French.”

Steven rolled his eyes, “Could you both stop it. That isn’t the point of this conversation. The point is that you,” he looked pointedly at Marc, “don’t think I can handle myself.”

“I-” Marc paused for a moment, seemingly about to say something before he backed off, leaving Steven staring at his reflection, not realizing he had stopped, nor when it had happened. He winced and continued walking, “Was I too rough on him?” he asked Jake, who had taken Marc’s place in the mirror.

“He’s just worried,” Jake answered, “He knows you can handle yourself, but” he shrugs.

“Yeah, I know. I just,” he sighed, “You two never let me try to help, makes me feel useless.”

“You’re not useless.” Jake said, shaking his head, “It isn’t right for us to shut you out but, well, we have our reasons.”

“Yeah,” Steven sighed as he entered a subway station, planning to take the subway to the opposite side of London, and then probably catch a bus to another random part of the city. As he walked down the stairs, he dialed up the number for the museum to call in sick. “I just wish you’d let me in on what they are.”

_

For the rest of the day Steven walked around London, occasionally letting Jake front, but only because the man knew the city like the back of his hand. Otherwise, he wandered about, trying to lose the person who had been watching him so intently on the bus. In Steven’s humble opinion, it was quite nice. He didn’t often get to hang out with Jake, at least not when they were in relatively calm circumstances, so he found spending time with his alter very enjoyable, and hoped they would do it again, maybe even with Marc. They could have a movie night with Layla when she got back.

He refused to believe she was gone. People lie all the time, and she had the suit anyway. Plus, the way the person had said it, he could have just meant that she had gone for a walk or something. There were so many reasons to believe she was still alive, the person on the other line was wrong, surely.

About an hour in Steven had guessed that he had lost the person, or persons, following him, but he continued to walk. He had taken the day off, anyway, so he might as well enjoy it. About two hours after that, when he was getting lunch, he got a call from an old professor of his that he had kept in touch with. She needed someone to lecture a bit about translating hieroglyphics, and then translate a passage.

It was a bit odd, her classes had never been like that when he had taken them, but maybe she was trying something new, and he wasn’t one to judge.

So, around three hours later, he started heading to the university.

_

The lecture was one of the weirdest he had been to, which was saying a lot. It wasn’t the fun weird, either. It was a tense sort of weird, that left him feeling his anxiety swell and dread collect at the bottom of his stomach. The whole time he could feel Marc and Jake nearby, even accidentally fronting when a question made Steven feel a weird way.

It wasn’t a great time, either, the class lasting two hours and already starting at six. Then when the class was over almost every student came up to ask him questions, which was the most disturbing thing about the entire day and made him feel like he was about to get jumped. Most students left as soon as they were dismissed, so all the students in a lecture staying back for questions was unheard of.

When the last question was answered, most of them just asking him to translate a random line of hieroglyphics they probably found on the web, Steven was exhausted. It was nearly nine, and the sun had already set. Before he could leave, though, the professor grabbed his arm.

“I think there’s another question for you,” she said, and turned to a nearby door. It then opened slowly, as if in a horror movie, and when the person entered Marc fronted for a moment, before Steven took back the front.

“Hello,” the man said, and now Jake was trying to push to the front. The man’s voice was the very same one that had answered Layla’s phone. Steven took a step back. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few of the students that had just left re-enter the lecture hall, standing at the doors. Behind the man two other people entered, blocking that door as well. One of them he recognized as one of the security guards at the museum. Ronnie, he remembered. “Steven, is it?”

“Doctor” was the first thing he could blurt out, the only thing that popped in his mind other than blinding fear. The man hadn’t just followed him. He had possibly hurt their wife, and had actively looked into Steven, finding not just what he did, but people who he knew.

What hurt more was the fact that the people he knew, that knew him, didn’t seem to be under duress. They were willingly selling him out to whoever this was. He wasn’t sure if the anger he was feeling was his, or if Jake’s anger was bleeding into his own.

A look of surprise flashed across his face, but soon it was gone, instead replaced by a smile that was a tad too warm to be genuine. “Doctor, I’m sorry. It must have taken you a long time to get that, I apologize for diminishing it.”

Steven knew he looked like Gus, his mouth opening and closing, unsure of what to say. He also knew that, if they weren’t in such a dire situation, Jake would be making fun of him for it. In all honesty, he wished that Jake was doing that, if only to bring some levity to the confrontation.

When the man seemed to realize that Steven wasn’t going to talk, he sighed. “Your wife has stolen something very important to me,” He said, taking a few steps closer to Steven, while Steven stepped back the same amount. “I was hoping you could help me get it back.”

“If she took it from you, she must have had good reason.” Steven said. He bumped into something as he took another step back, and turned to see his old professor standing behind him, not allowing him any further backwards.

“She believes what she is doing is good, I am sure,” the man stopped moving towards Steven, which he was incredibly thankful for. He then looked away, turning to a book laying on the professor’s desk. He flipped through it for a bit before he found what he was looking for, turning it so he could see the picture. “You know of Ammit, I’d presume.”

He thought back to one of his intro to ancient myths class, she was mentioned a few times, though it often felt like she was put in the textbooks as an afterthought. “Yeah, devourer of unbalanced souls, right?”

The man smiled and shook his head, “That is what her fellow gods wanted us to believe, that she is evil. The truth is that she wants peace. The gods refused to let this happen, because all gods are warlike, even the seemingly benevolent ones. They refuse to allow us mortals to have peace, because that would make us more godlike than them.”

Steven nodded, focusing less on the words and more on a means of escape, “Yup, sounds like them”

“They imprisoned her, she was betrayed by her own avatar.” The man had gotten closer, and when he grabbed Steven’s wrist, he let out a surprised squeak. “We just want what’s best. A perfect world.” He grabbed Steven’s other wrist.

He tried to flinch away, but the man’s grip was strong. He felt hands grab his shoulders, holding them in place, making it even more difficult to break out of the man’s grasp. Steven’s eyes searched the room, trying to find anyone who would help or, at least, anything that could warn him of what was to come. His eyes landed on a tattoo on the man’s arm, a set of scales held by the heads of crocodiles.

His heart was speeding up, and he could feel Jake and Marc pushing against their consciousness, trying to take control.

“You don’t need to worry,” the man in front of him said, probably feeling how fast his heart was beating through his wrist, “I am just weighing your heart, to see if you deserve to be in this paradise.”
“The hearts are supposed to be weighed,” he choked, “after we die.”

The man smiled, “But don’t you want to know of your scales before, whether to know if you are good or bad,” the scale tattoo started swaying, “I can tell you.”

The man looked down, a small smile on his face, but it was quickly wiped away. The scales continued to move, a perpetual motion. He ripped his hands out of Steven’s, as if they had burnt him. Steven, hands now free, brought them to his chest, right over his heart. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, which wasn’t very helpful with calming him.

“You have chaos in you.”

He felt the grip on his shoulders loosen, and he broke away from the person holding him. With out a second glance he ran up the stairs to one of the exits. He heard something being said, but couldn’t make it out with the blood rushing through his ears. When he reached the doors nobody was blocking him, and he took the opportunity to run out of the lecture hall, and then out of the building.

_

His heart was racing as he walked back to the subway station, slightly regretting not calling for one of the campus transportation services in his haste. Or for security, that would also have been a good idea. Instead, he was walking through the paths connecting one building to another, the only light being from the lampposts dotted around and the crescent moon hovering above. A gust of wind flew past him, making him pause so he wouldn’t fall.

The adrenaline was dying down now, but the paranoia was still there. He felt eyes on him, even though he was completely alone. As he reached the pathway lined with trees, he heard a howl, but he was sure there were no wolves that lived nearby. He spun when he heard crunching leaves, heartrate rising again. However, no one was there.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white on a nearby building, but it was quickly gone, and he blamed it on his nerves and imagination.

Instead of going straight to the subway, which would have made him continue to walk through the outside, he entered a building. The lights flashed on when he entered, making him squint for a moment before getting used to the light. He continued on down the hallway, lights flashing on as the motion sensor found him, and then off when he was out of their range.

When he was halfway through the hallway, a light at the entrance clicked on. He turned, only to be met with nothing. There was a pause, and then the next one clicked on, and then the next one, nobody there to be sensed. The lights turned on with growing speed and Steven, deciding that this was probably a bad sign, began to run the opposite way.

Behind him he could hear whatever was chasing him speed up, the sound of claws scratching on the linoleum tile making him push himself to run faster. Adrenaline flowed through him once again, and he wrecked his mind for a place to hide.

He passed by a washroom, and ran in, locking the door behind him. There was a bang on the door, and a dent formed.

“Oh no, oh no oh no oh no.” he pulled out his phone and called the campus security, flinching every time the creature left a dent on the door. After he hung up, he knew the campus security wouldn’t get there in time, nor would they be able to do anything.

His back was against the wall, literally and figuratively.

“Steven,” Marc’s voice echoed in his mind, and he turned to one of the mirrors. Marc always seemed to have a plan, but now his expression was sorrowful. “I’m sorry.”

“We can fight it,” Jake said, though he didn’t seem too confident, “Go out with a fight, you know.”

Steven took a deep breath and looked around the small bathroom they were in. It wasn’t the place he would have expected to die in, nor was it a pleasant one, but he didn’t really have a choice. He didn’t even get to say goodbye to Layla.

However, he could take solace in the fact that, whatever happened, Jake and Marc would be with him.

Before Steven could give the front to Jake, though, there was a crash in the hallway, and something smashed into the door, larger than before, leaving a dent bigger than a man. There was more crashing, and even through the door he could hear a small whimper. Then the door began to open, and he let Jake take control.

Chapter Text

Steven woke in his bed, remarkably not dead.

It took a moment for the night to catch up with him, but as soon as it did, he sat up, nearly tripping in his scramble to get from his bed to the trifold mirror by one of the numerous bookshelves. He pulled it open, and was met with himself, the same reflection from different angles.

“Hello?” he called out to them, both out loud and in his mind. “You two awake?”

There was no answer, and Steven had to hold back a sigh. They probably had a time the night before, or however many nights had passed since when he last fronted, and as much as he wanted to know what had happened, they deserved the rest.

So, Steven went through his routine. He probably should miss work again, since the strange man who may or may not have kidnaped his wife definitely knew where he worked now, but if he missed work twice in a row and wasn’t sick, he’d be in big trouble. He was already on thin ice with the many ‘trips’ they took with Layla and the times when Jake had his job to deal with, he didn’t want any more eyes watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake.

Sometimes it felt like they were just looking for a chance to fire him.

Steven was almost dialing Layla’s number when he stopped himself, remembering last time. She wouldn’t pick up. All he’d get would be the strange man who seemed a bit too kind to be genuine. Who had been supposedly weighing his heart.

Steven decided then to do a bit more research into Ammit, the god the man had been speaking about. Checking his watch for the time he had before work, he looked through his shelves for a book that may help him.

_

He was able to do a bit of research on his lunch break, but what he found was confusing. The god the man had talked about sounded like, well, a god. In the book he had brought in, and a few of the artifacts in the museum, ‘Ammit’ was always shown as a monster who just ate hearts after they had been weighed. The one he read about and the one the man had spoken about were incongruent.

He supposed that could be a change in characterization. Ancient Egypt was one of the longest living civilizations, so of course the gods would shift. He had done multiple essays and assignments on the topic.

Knowing that didn’t help, though. If he didn’t know the characterization of the goddess, he couldn’t know what the man was planning.

After lunch he could almost sense the change in the air. He had felt tense since he got there, feeling like he could be attacked any moment, but now it was thick in the air, like smoke. As he walked through the museum, giving his regular tour, he felt eyes on him, and he caught a few people glaring at him as he went through the artifacts.

He was about to call it a day and leave early when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to meet eyes with Donna. Her face was stony, and her thin lips were pulled into a stern frown. She took a quick glance around the room, noting that no one was paying much attention to them, walking off now that the tour had finished, and leaned in a bit closer so that no one would here her.

“Some officers are at the front asking for you. I’d suggest you go to them before they cause a scene.” She stepped back, then turned on her heel, going the direct opposite way of the front desk, away from the officers there.

Steven’s heart sped in his chest as he made his way to the front, dread building as he walked. He knew he couldn’t take too long, that would be suspicious, but he couldn’t force his legs to go much faster. A million different possibilities ran through his mind, and all the worst-case scenarios joined them.

His worry probably woke Jake up, because as he entered the main hall, he saw Jake in one of the windows, watching him. He then glanced to the side and, seeing the police, turned to him again, this time more worried, though Steven knew he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.

“Do you need me to tap in?” he asked, looking again to the police, then to one of the employee hallways, one that led to an exit. “I can get us out of here, won’t even notice us.”

Steven gave a minute shake of his head, then continued towards the people standing at the front desk. When they saw him, the lady gave him a big smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It didn’t hold the warmth real smiles did, either. It was as if she was acting. The man behind her held no pleasantries, though, his mouth in a firm line. The lady stepped forward.

“Officers Jefferson and Kennedy, you must be Doctor Steven Grant?”

“Steven is fine,” he said quietly, trying to slow his racing heart. He had nothing to hide, but that wasn’t much comfort.

“Alright, Steven, we just wanted to ask you a couple questions.”

Steven was biting his lip, an old habit he had thought he had gotten rid of. “Okay, so, what do you need?”

“It’s about last night, at the university.” The man cut in, only to be met with a glare from his partner, who then continued.

“What he means is, recently there have been monsters that appear to be invisible roaming about the city. Last night you reported one of them. There was some property damage with the superhero that had killed it, so we just wanted your account of what happened.”

Steven looked around. People were starting to stare. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just get my things and we can-”

“That won’t be necessary.” The man said, getting uncomfortably close and putting a hand on his shoulder, “You won’t need it.”

Before Steven could challenge that idea, the man was leading him away from the main desk and out the doors, towards a car that didn’t really look like a police car.

_

“You know we haven’t any records on you before ten years ago?” the man said as he clicked through a computer, which was sat on the dashboard of the car. He moved the rear-view mirror, and Steven saw the man’s eyes watching him.

“Really?” the lady asked, though she didn’t seem surprised. They stopped at a red light and she turned to him, “That’s odd.”

Steven blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “That doesn’t make sense.” He said slowly, glancing out the window. However, before he could think further into that, he realized that he didn’t recognize the roads. “I-I think we took a wrong turn a couple kilometers back.”

The lady once again had her eyes on the road, but Steven could see that she was shaking her head. “No, we’re going exactly where we need to be.”

Steven turned back to the door and gave tug on the handle. It didn’t budge. He looked over the door, hoping that he would find a button or leaver or something that would unlock the door manually. Then, when it was clear that the car either didn’t come with a manual unlocking system or they had removed it, he tried to roll down the window. This, also, was unsuccessful. Child locked.

He unbuckled himself, since seatbelt safety was the least of his priorities, and went forward. He couldn’t reach them, there was a wall separating the driver and passenger’s seats with the back seats, but he thought that, if he just got to the little window between them, he could do something. He wasn’t a physical person, but muscle memory and all that.

The window was closed by the time he got there.

“Where are you taking me?” He was met by silence.

_

Half an hour later they arrived at their destination. It was out of the city, but not yet countryside. The buildings were a few stories tall, packed close together and with vines climbing up their walls. Steven didn’t get pay much attention to these things, though, as he was focusing very hard on not panicking, failing spectacularly, and trying to not get more stressed with Marc and Jake’s arguing on how to get them out. His panicking having brought out Marc and Jake in the first place.

He was so busy, in fact, that the only reason he knew they had arrived was the car’s sudden stop, which sent their head flying into the glass separating the two parts of the car. There was a loud bang as both doors opened and shut, the two officers leaving him alone.

He groaned, falling back onto the seat, and rubbing his sore head. “That’ll leave a bruise.” Marc said helpfully from the window beside him. Steven glared at him.

“Helpful, aren’t you?” He groaned, leaning against the seat. “What happened last night?”

His question was directed at Jake, who he had remembered was the one to front after him, but Marc was first to answer. “Nothing,” he said, obviously trying to brush Steven’s question off, but Steven wasn’t going to let that happen. He needed to know what was going on, and Marc was currently hiding something.

“Marc, what happened?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing, Steven.”

Steven turned to look at where Jake was in the reflection. Before he could pressure Jake into spilling, though, a loud slam against the door made him flinch. His head whipped towards the door that had been hit and, through the mirror, he saw a stranger standing there. Steven, taking his chance, moved closer and knocked on the window.

The stranger turned to him and, for a moment, Steven thought that she may help.

His hopes were dashed, however, by the slight twist of her arm, revealing a tattoo far too familiar. The same tattoo the man from before had.

“Steven, please, let me or Jake handle this.” Steven turned back to the other window, where Marc was still standing.

“No,” he shook his head, “Listen, if you can’t tell me what you did last night, how can I trust you? We have to trust each other.”

Then the door opened, the sounds of the outside, once muffled by the door, were now clear as day. The chatting of strangers, the rustling of leaves, the distant sound of grilling, all of it invaded his ears. He realized that the car he was in was probably soundproofed, since as soon as the doors opened he could hear kids shouting, playing football in the empty street.

“Steven,” the man from before was standing by the door, blocking any escape he could try to make. “It’s nice to see you.”

He stared at him incredulously and, after a second, laughed. It wasn’t funny, but it was so strange that Steven couldn’t help himself. The man stood there as Steven’s laughs soon turned hysterical and, eventually, flickered out. When he was finished, he could only ask one thing, “What?”

“We’re sorry, that we had to bring you here through trickery, but it was the only way we could get you to understand what we’re doing.”

That gave Steven pause, “Understand what you’re doing? It’s pretty clear, mate, you weighing hearts. That’s not supposed to be done, not here.”

The man shook his head, “Walk with me.” Steven didn’t want to but, with the other people in the, what he was to presume a commune, staring at him, he knew he had no choice. So, taking a deep breath, he followed the strange man.

As he walked Steven took in the area. The sun had begun to set, but natural light still lit up the street, bathing the area in a golden glow. Older buildings lined the street, ivy crawling up them and covered in decorations. Ceramic pots sat outside doorways, painted in different colours and patters, while fairy lights were strung on stair railings and balconies. People wandered between them, stopping to chat to the man, who they called Harrow, as they passed by. When they passed a bakery the sent of fresh bread flooded his nose, a calm beginning to wash over him as they slowly walked to the center of the commune.

He was brought out of this stupor, though, when he felt Marc pushing at the back of his head. He quickly remembered why they were here, that they had been kidnapped by these people, no matter how pretty their town is.

As if reading his mind, Harrow smiled, “Beautiful, isn’t it? Almost like paradise.” He nodded at a young woman who was bouncing a baby, trying to calm them down, “It used to be horrible. Rampant crime, fear, pain. A few years ago, I came here to help and, well,” He gestured around himself.

“Where did they go?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where did they go?” He repeated, “Not everyone is going to listen to some random man trying to convince people to do good. Trust me, I wish that were true too, a lot of the people could be a lot happier, but not everyone will listen to people trying to do good.”

Harrow paused, then looked to another person, a young man, and said hello. “We have a place like this in the Alpes,” he said after greeting a few other people, obviously not answering Steven’s questions, “I was there a couple days ago. Your wife was there. She stole something from me.”

“Is that what this whole thing is about? My wife took something, and now you’re trying to go after me? You think she’ll just show up to rescue me?”

“You don’t?”

Steven hesitated, then said, “We’ll, of course, but how’s that working out for you?”

“Quite well, actually.” He hummed, “She was there last night.”

Steven halted in his steps, needing a moment to process those words. Layla had been there last night? Jake had fronted when that thing, monster, whatever, had been chasing them. Surely, he would have told Marc and Steven if Layla had shown up.

It took a couple seconds, but Steven finally was able to make himself walk, catching up to Harrow.

“You’re vegan, right?” he said as the road opened to a large area open to the air. The scent of food had grown stronger, and there were tables spread about with people speaking and eating at them. The man, either not noticing Steven’s silence or not caring, continued, “I am too. I made today’s dinner, it’s Victor’s recipe.” He gestured to another man standing on one of the balconies, who nodded at him.

Steven nodded along, following what Harrow was doing. He grabbed a bowl and distantly realized it was being filled with soup. He was pulled back to the present when Harrow began to speak again.

“I’m glad that you came,” he smiled warmly. Well, Steven would have called it warm, if he hadn’t been tricked here. He said that very thing to the man, the last part, at least. Instead of looking even a little ashamed when Steven had pointed this out, his face stayed in the same smile. “This was the only way you could see reason. I just want to help you.”

“Help me, when just last night you looked at me like I was a monster, then sent some weird creature after me?”
“The jackal wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Yeah, mate, totally felt like it.”

“It would have stopped if your wife hadn’t attacked it.”

“Okay, maybe you should stop talking about Layla, cause she’s not even in the country. If she was she would’ve told me, and last I checked she was in Peru.” Steven was starting to get really annoyed, and it seemed that Harrow could see that as well.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” Harrow said, though he didn’t seem to believe what he was saying, “but, I do know that your wife stole something from me, and I was hoping to convince you that, whatever Khonshu told her, he was wrong.”

“What,” Steven paused, “what do you know about Khonshu?”

“Your wife is his avatar, correct?” Steven started to deny him, but Harrow cut him off, “Don’t lie to me, I know that it’s true. I just want to warn you about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He is using her for his own means. Lying to her.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I was Khonshu’s last Avatar.” A gust of wind ripped through the courtyard. A few tablecloths not held down by centerpieces and plates flew off, only stooped by a couple people who ran off to get them. The fairy lights, which had only turned on a few minutes ago, flickered, and around the little commune the sound of babies crying erupted. After a moment everything stilled, and Harrow continued, frowning, “Khonshu is not a god to be worshiped.”

“And you think Ammit is any better?”

Harrow shook his head, face going back to a smile “Ammit cares for good people. She wants to make earth free of suffering. The gods are afraid of that. They believe that there is a balance between them and us, that we’re different. But we aren’t. They know, all too well, that if we can stop our suffering here, that will make us gods. They are afraid that, with that, we will be more powerful than them.”

“If he’s trying to not sound like a cult leader, he’s doing a piss-poor job of it.” Jake spoke for the first time since they were in the car. Steven had to agree.

Instead of repeating what Jake said, or giving his own opinions on what Harrow had said, he asked, “So, how do you make the world perfect?”

Harrow’s smile grew a fraction, but then he sobered up. “How are you to care for a garden? We must get rid of the weeds.”

“The weeds,” Steven felt eyes on him now, watching him, “You’re… you’re killing people.”

“It is for the best, Ammit destroys evil from the root, before evil has been done. If we must loose a few for paradise, well,”

Steven moved dropped his spoon in the soup, untouched and uneaten. “That’s not right.”

“Steven, I understand it’s shocking to you, but you need to understand that it’s for the best.”

“And, what, would you kill a child if Ammit didn’t want them in paradise. If,” he paused, “If they were considered a ‘weed’?”

“Well, think about it like this. Amputation, as horrific as it is, must be-” he was cut off by Steven’s, slightly hysterical, laughter.

“You did not compare a child dying to amputation.” He glance around at the people around him, who seemed to have gotten closer, “Do, do all of you believe in that. Why would you willingly follow someone who has ‘child murder’ on their agenda? Am I, am I missing something?”

Harrow stood, and Steven stood as well, not wanting the man to tower over him.

“Please, Steven, tell us where Layla is.”

“I said that I don’t know.”

“But Jake and Marc do.” Steven froze. “Yes, I know their names. I know everything.” The last part didn’t feel directed at Steven. He could feel both Jake and Marc present now, both simultaneously vying for control of the body. Steven had been practicing for nearly ten years though, so he was able to hold it.

“Do you know what this is?” Harrow said, now directing his attention to the cane in his hands, “This was a gift Ammit gave to her first avatar. It is imbued with just a fraction of her power. Trust me when I say, I do not want to use it.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t.”

“I won’t, as long as one of you tells me where Layla is.” Around them people came closer, surrounding him and leaving no way to escape. At least, no way to escape without fighting. “Where is she?” Harrow’s followers began to repeat him, asking where Layla was until it was indistinguishable from a chorus. That is, until one voice rose above the others.

“I’m here.”

Steven turned to where the voice came from, and there she was. She wasn’t wearing the suit, but he knew that within a second, if things got out of hand, she could summon it. Above her she held a tiny object that shined gold. Steven wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he could assume it was what Harrow had wanted.

“So,” Layla said, looking at each of the people now surrounding her as well, “What’s going to happen?”

“Just give me the scarab, and no one gets hurt.” Harrow said, attention having left Steven for Layla.

“You want it? Then get it.” She threw what she was holding behind her, away from her and Steven. Right away the people around her jumped toward it, but she didn’t wait for them to grab it. Instead, as soon as she had thrown it, she ran toward Steven, grabbing his arm and running. He followed her lead. He wouldn’t call himself the athletic type, but he was able to keep up.

They were about ten meters away, beginning to climb up a set of stairs, when a shout echoed through the courtyard.

“It’s a fake!”

They climbed up the staircase, Layla splitting off from him a few times to get people out of their way. However, when they were about three quarters of the way up the staircase, Layla missed one person. He stood in the middle of a staircase, blocking Steven’s way.

Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins when he took back the front. It was Jake who had taken the front, then. Marc would usually hold it for longer.

“Steven?”

He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog that had taken over his mind. Layla was standing there, watching him. When she deemed him more aware, she began to pace around.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, making Layla turn to him. Before she could answer, though, something slammed into the door. Steven flinched. “are we gonna die?”

Layla paused, then shook her head, getting closer to him. When they were in arm’s length, she put her hands on his shoulders. “We’re not going to die.” There was another bang on the door, and Steven flinched again. Layla looked to the door, then to him. “I’m going to get it out of here, okay?” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a shining gold object. The scarab. “I need you to guard this with your life, okay?”

Steven took a deep breath, then nodded. She put the scarab in his hands, which he put in his pocket. Then he moved to the side, way from the door, while Layla moved into view of the doors. Just as the creature broke the hinges, Steven called out to her.

“Yeah?” she glanced to him.

“Stay safe, please. I love you.” An emotion Steven didn’t recognize flashed across her face but, before she could say anything, the creature broke through the door.

_

Everything after that was a blur, though he couldn’t say if it was just the adrenaline, or if Marc and Jake were taking the front. In all actuality, it was probably both. He knew that they were running, dodging the people chasing them or trying to block their way. Luckily most of them seemed to be focused on Layla, so he was able to get out of the commune relatively quickly.

That is, until one of the people from before, the guy who had said he was a police officer, appeared in front of him. Steven skidded to a stop, not smacking into him to his relief.

“Now, listen, you come with us, and you don’t have to get hurt.” The man said.

“Sorry, can’t do that.” Steven glanced around the area, trying to find something he may be able to do something with. He couldn’t fight well, but maybe he could scare them off. That option flew out the window when someone grabbed him from behind.

“Well, then we can’t let you leave.” Said a familiar voice behind him. Of course. It was Ronnie.

Steven tried to calm his racing heart, but it was quite difficult with arms wrapped around his body in a messed-up version of a hug, arms pinned against his sides. Jake and Marc didn’t help much, either, with Jake pushing to take the front, and Marc suggesting he give it up to one of the others. Steven tried to hold on, though.

Jake, seemingly realizing this, took a, metaphorical, step back, appearing in the window across from him. He took account of the situation from his more third-person view, then started offering suggestions on how to get out of the situation they were in.

Most of it wasn’t very helpful, Steven was not a fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but he listened and came up with a plan, keeping Jake’s advice in mind. Unfortunately, though Steven had gotten a doctorate less than five years before, it was in Egyptology, not planning.

He threw his head back, hitting Ronnie right in the nose, letting out a sickening crack. It got Ronnie to let go of him, the intended reaction, but it also really hurt Steven himself. Then, now free from his hold, Steven took a few steps away, completely forgetting about the other man, who he bumps into. Both seemed surprised, but Steven wasn’t able to shake it off before the man in front grabbed him, once again pinning his arms, but this time in front of him. Taking the opportunity, Steven began to his on the man’s chest which, to his surprise, worked a bit, making the one holding him loosen his grip.

Before he could get out, something slammed into his head, and Steven blacked out.

_

Steven woke up on a late-night bus, three stops away from his flat.

The body was calm, adrenaline seemingly having faded over however long it took to get home. With the adrenaline gone, Steven felt the full weight of exhaustion in his bones, wanting to drag him to the floor and sleep anywhere, even the bus’s floor.

When he arrived home he barely had the energy to put on fresh pajamas before collapsing in bed, wanting the chaos of the past few days to slip away and give him a break.

He couldn’t sleep, though. As much as he wanted to, there was something nagging at the back of his brain that just wouldn’t let him sleep.

He left the bed slowly and went to the pile of worn clothing on the floor. Finding his jacket, he checked the pocket. There was nothing. He checked the other pocket. Still nothing. He was sure that he had put it in his jacket pockets, but he still checked and double checked his clothing for the day, then throughout the pile of clothes he had been planning to wash that night, before all the cult stuff happened. There was no scarab anywhere. It had gone missing.

Or, Steven realized in horror, Harrow had it.

Chapter Text

“So,” Marc said, pacing around the flat, “What’s the plan?”

He stopped in between the mirror in the bathroom and another right outside it, both of them in his field of view. Jake was leaning against the mirror, while Steven was also pacing around, biting on the inside of his cheek.

“Well, we need to help,” Steven said when he finally realized that marc had asked a question, “Find what that scarab was for, you know.”

“And how are we going to do that? We don’t know what we’re looking for, or what the scarab even does.”

“Layla knows.”

“No.” both Marc and Jake said immediately, making Steven step back in surprise. After a moment, Marc shook his head, “That’s not a good idea.”

Steven’s eyebrows furrowed, “Why not? Do you expect us to just, what, not help her?”

“You don’t understand, Steven.” Marc’s voice grew softer.

“Then help me to.” Then, realizing that he wasn’t going to be answered, changed the subject, “We can assume that the scarab was made at some point, probably when the Egyptian gods were still worshiped, right?”

“I mean, probably?” Jake said, tilting his head in curiosity, moving so he could see Steven from the mirror, “What about it?”

“And we can assume that it’s probably a later characterization of the gods, yeah?”

“What do you mean?” Marc asked.

“Well, you were sometimes there when I was in lectures, so you know how Ancient Egypt is quite a long period of history, right? Well, that ends when Alexander the Okay invades, and makes Egypt Greek. We have that whole time period to deal with.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t narrow it down.”

“But it does, because the cane Harrow had? That crocodile piece looked like iron. It couldn’t have been from before 1500 BC, that’s the new kingdom.”

“Okay, so that gives us what, over a thousand years?” Marc sat on the bed, putting his head in his hands, “Not really narrowing it down too much.”

Jake laughed from the mirror, “Better than nearly three thousand years to look through.”

“Or the five thousand we’d have if we were thinking everything after the pyramids.” Steven added with a grin. Marc rolled his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, standing up from the bed, “looks like we’re headed to Egypt.”

_

Layla’s heartbeat in her ears as she ran, jumping across rooftops as she raced to where her last lead was. She had spent hours scouring her sources, anyone she knew that might be of assistance in her search for Harrow.

She was still kicking herself for leaving her phone in that hotel room, and she let the exhaustion in her bones be the punishment. She shouldn’t have even brought the damn phone with her, it only caused pain and distraction, and it had led to disaster.

The scarab was gone, and she had gotten Steven, Marc, and Jake in danger. She never wanted to get them involved and, while she hoped they would stay out of it, she knew they wouldn’t just leave it be. The three of them weren’t the type to give up. Even Steven, who was the most likely to run from a fight, wouldn’t back down from a less physical challenge. It was one of the things she loved about him. She still could think back fondly on when Steven spent an entire weekend with her, translating a wall of Hieroglyphics that had been found recently back then.

She was jolted out of her reminiscing when she landed on the building she had been headed to, only to see a man lying in a puddled of blood, eyes staring up into the sky.

It was far too familiar to be comfortable, so she quickly glanced away.

She felt the god’s presence before she saw it. There was a sudden gust of wind, her hair flying into her face, and the loose fabric she wore to beat the heat flapped around her. She heard the rattle of old bones and distant chanting, which she couldn’t understand even with all her knowledge, but was hauntingly familiar. Something she could always feel in her bones, even when the god was not near.

She steeled herself for the god’s appearance. Their last conversation had been unpleasant, with Khonshu’s anger at not only bringing the scarab with her when confronting Harrow, but giving it to Steven who, in Khonshu’s opinion, was useless. A worm, as he called it.

If only his dislike of Steven would keep him away from Marc and Jake.

You were late. The god said, and he appeared beside the body, looking down at it. It seems to be becoming a pattern.

Layla wanted to roll her eyes, to tell the god to shut up and leave her alone. She couldn’t, though, for fear that the god may lash out or, worse, leave her and go to Marc. She knew Marc wouldn’t necessarily agree to becoming an avatar, he had no doubt seen the strain the god put on her, but he would also probably become Khonshu’s avatar just to remove that strain. All of them would.

She had married a bunch of self-sacrificing idiots.

The god seemed to know what she was thinking, as he said, I don’t wish to get another avatar, but you are beginning to give me no choice.

“I’ll figure it out.”

And do you have any more leads, little bug?

She winced at the botching of her father’s nickname for her, but with no other choice she let it go. “No, that was my last one.”

Hmm, then we may have no other choice.

“What do you mean?”

The Ennead. If we cannot find Harrow ourselves, then we will have to rely on their help. Khonshu paced the roof, But if we are to accuse Harrow of this, our argument must be flawless. If it is not, they may imprison me in stone.

“And?”

You will not have my healing armour. How would you expect to defeat Harrow without it?

“I’d manage.” Khonshu said nothing, visibly doubtful of this, so Layla changed the subject, “So how are we going to get their attention?”

The god said nothing, simply turning to the sky. The rattling of bones and chanting returned, sounds somehow both from this world and beyond it, resonating in her ears. Before her eyes, the sky changed, a new moon crossing it, as the sounds of the city below her went quiet. It seemed that it wasn’t a jackal situation. An unpredicted solar eclipse was really happening for everyone in the area.

And then, seemingly right after it had started, it was over.

Before she could ask what that was, Khonshu explained it to her. The gods were gathering their avatars, and she would be given a passage to where they were meeting as well. As he finished, behind him, in the shadow of some boxes on the rooftop, there was movement. Slowly the material of the roof moved, creating a staircase into darkness.

She took a few steps toward it, but quickly noticed how Khonshu was not following her.

“Are you going with me?”

I will be there, and then he turned around and began to walk away, conversation over. Layla, taking the hint, went down the steps.

Slowly the light from the outside faded, the passage growing darker as the floor leveled out beneath her. The walls to her sides were surprisingly reflective, old hieroglyphics scrawled on them in what seemed to be an ancient funerary text. It wasn’t the translation she knew, though. A few words were similar, but otherwise completely different to the style of hieroglyphics her university had taught her.

This hallway was far older than the middle kingdom.

And then, as if a lightbulb had just gone off, she realized where she was. Writing that seemingly went back to the old kingdom, funerary texts, circles around a few names that were all too familiar from her studies.

She was in the great pyramids of Giza.

As the epiphany dawned on her, the hallway opened up into a large room. Large statues lined the walls, and the middle of the room was a few steps lower than the level she entered. Around the center of the room, placed on a higher level, nine chairs were placed, three on each side except for the back.

Logically, Layla knew that the large forum in the pyramid was impossible. It was just supposed to be a tomb, grand, but not a place to hold parties. But, magic. She was the avatar of an Egyptian god, she had been for years, one would have thought she had gotten used to it.

“Khonshu and his entrances.” A voice said behind her, and she spun to find a woman standing in a doorway nearby. When Layla had seen her, she began to walk toward her. “Yatzil.” She introduced herself, “Avatar of Hathor.”

“Khonshu.” Layla replied, slightly distracted.

“I knew that.” She smile, as if she was hearing a joke. “Has he mentioned Hathor?”

“No, he hasn’t. They were close, right?” Yatzil laughed a little.

“Close is a bit of an understatement. It wasn’t so long ago that they would spend months awake listening to her,” she paused “songs.” Layla’s cheeks began to heat up. She did not need to hear about her employers habits. That was not something she was interested in. “Maybe if we meet again I can teach you some.”

Before Layla could answer, a voice called out Yatzil’s name and, rolling her eyes, turned around and began to head to the thrones. As she went, she called out behind her “I wouldn’t fight it.” Then, after a moment, she stiffened, and her posture changed into something more regal.

Each of the god’s names was called, a sort of glow entering each of their eyes as the god supposedly possessed them, until Khonshu was called, and she felt herself thrown out of her body.

It was a strange feeling, almost like she was both inside of it and outside of it at the same time. She was seeing herself through her own eyes, but also almost from a third person perspective. It was painful, too, sharing a body with the god. Even if she tried to fight against it, it would only hurt more, as if she was being ripped apart from the inside.

She was so distracted by the odd feeling that she didn’t even realize Harrow was there until she heard his voice.

“Khonshu is using her, he is blackmailing her, using his own power and her husband’s mental illness against her. She is trapped by Khonshu, and he has lied to her, just as he had done to me, about this mission being her last.”

“Shut up!” the words came out of her own mouth, but she was not the one saying them. The voice was deeper, bringing a sharp pain to her vocal cords. The voice was also, unfortunately, familiar.

“I am telling nothing but the truth.”

“He lies!” Khonshu shouted.

“Then ask her.”

Before the god could once again oppose this, the man sitting at the front, Osiris, raised a hand, silencing them. “Let us hear from Khonshu’s avatar.”

And just like that, she was thrown back into her body. If being abruptly yanked out of her body was bad, getting thrown back in was far worse. Everything was constricting around her, and she barely realized that she had fallen to her knees. The other avatars didn’t feel like this too, did they? They all seemed fine.

It felt like it took hours for her heart to stop its racing and the blood to stop rushing in her ears, but in reality it was only a couple seconds. When she seemed calm enough, the gods started questioning her.

“Is what Arthur Harrow says true? Is Khonshu mistreating you?” Yatzil, no, it was Hathor speaking now, asked. As she watched, Layla could see that her eyes were full of pity. It made her skin crawl, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Harrow is tricking you. He is using flowery words to hide his true intentions.” She glared at him.

“That is not what you were asked,” Osiris stated, “Is Khonshu using you, blackmailing you?”

Layla took a deep breath, trying to stay poised, “That is not the point. We are trying to stop him from releasing Ammit.”

“You say that I am lying, when you are the one omitting the truth.” Harrow said, and slowly he approached the front few thrones, “I am just trying to warn the gods that Khonshu is using this woman’s anger and grief, along with her loved ones, to trap her into being his avatar. This trial is on;y happening because I tried to warn her, Khonshu is trying to get rid of me so he can keep her.”

“You bastard.” She muttered under her breath, but the gods didn’t seem to hear it. Osiris lifted a hand, and the gods seemed to have a silent conversation among themselves before voicing their decision.

“We have not been given more than circumstantial evidence against Harrow.” The man on Osiris’ right finally said, “Nor have we been given any true evidence that Khonshu is mistreating his avatar.”

“But Khonshu,” Osiris added, “If you ever toy with the sky again, we will encase you in stone.”

And then the trial was over, nothing new having been learned, and no leads to follow. That is, until Yatzil came up to her.

I am not happy with the past few scenes so, instead of pushing through, I am going to leave this part be and rewrite this when I am more interested in this scene and not rushing to the next.

_

Water sloshed against the small boat as it swayed in the river. People roamed around her, some aimlessly, and others with purpose, either trying to get in the boats, or into the city. There was an almost overwhelming amount of sound around her, be it conversations, music, or just the ambiance of people walking around. She loved it just as much as she enjoyed the quiet.

There were so many people crowded around, so close to each other, that she didn’t even notice that someone was approaching until she felt the tap on her shoulder.

“Is there room for one more?” Layla spun around, bumping into a few of the people clustered around her, to see Steven giving her a nervous smile. She was in such shock to see him that she just nodded a little, words caught in her throat.

“How did you find me?” she finally asked when they were on the boat and she had found her words.

“You’re not the only one with connections, luv.” Steven grinned at her. It was so different than how she would have expected him to look at her after she had cut contact. “That moon god you’re working for isn’t very subtle. Solar eclipse over Cairo, really? After that I just looked into some of the collectors in the area, heard they had spoken to you, and narrowed it down.”

Layla nodded along to his story. It made sense, she hadn’t thought that Steven knew the people she had spoken to, but combining them working together for years and Marc’s knowledge from when they had known each other before she was moon knight, it wasn’t surprising.

“So,” Steven continued, leaning forward. “why are you interested in Mogart’s collection?”

And wasn’t this just like the other missions Steven would occasionally tag along on, or even when they were helping each other on course work when they didn’t understand. Steven looking at her with such wide eyes, truly interested in what she was going to say. It made her heart hurt to see the genuine love she had expected to never see again.

“Can I speak to Marc?” as much as she fought against it, her voice still cracked. Steven clearly noticed this, but instead of pointing it out he gave her a tiny nod. Then his posture shifted, and Marc’s brows furrowed, his mouth shifting into a firm line. After a moment she asked, “Is he listening?”

“No,” Marc answered, “Him and Jake are giving us some privacy.”

She let out a deep breath, “They don’t know?”

“Steven doesn’t. Jake found out at pretty much the same time as I did.” She tried not to think of what that meant, why Jake found out so quickly.

“Are you going to tell Steven, then?”

For the first time in months, she heard Marc laugh. It was ungenuine, though, more sarcastic or incredulous. “Why would I tell him? To break his heart?” He leaned back, “If it was up to me and Jake, Steven would have never seen you again. Let him think a bunch of postcards were from you, while I send you those damned papers.”

Layla paused, then said, “I didn’t want to leave.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The sarcasm was thick in his voice, punctuated by his looking around.

“Marc-”

“Please, Layla. Let’s just do what we need to do, and then we can go back to before Harrow showed up.”

After that the trip was made in silence, at least from Layla and Marc.