-"There is chaos in you."—
Yes, there was. Inside and also outside. It was him. Them. All of them. There was chaos, but it wasn't unbalanced anymore.
Back then, years ago, Marc had been desperate, dying, had wanted to live. Against Ammit, those feelings had surged again. That crazy race against time, against all odds, with not a moment to think. Act, react, fight, kill.
Now, there weren't any thoughts of survival. He had had time to think. Steven had been quite detailed in his examination of the facts.
So, yes, he wanted this.
Marc glanced at Steven who was nodding at him. There was a determined expression in his face.
They wanted this. Both of them in their own way. The timid, shy and socially inept side, as well as the hard-ass ex-marine with a conscience and a kill list so long, he had stopped making notes.
He looked at Layla. His wife. Someone who loved them both in their own way, her own way, had protected them, had given them the strength to go on, to power through, because she had the most solid connection to Marc and Steven, but never to any of the others.
She gave him an open smile. "That's you, Marc. And Steven. All of this. You and him." She nodded head at Khonshu. "You're a lot more alike than you'd think."
If a skull could look affronted, Khonshu gave a very good impression, but the expression glanced off her.
"You're good together," she added. "Crazy, sure. Way, way past the deep end of the pool."
Khonshu hummed, apparently pleased with her words.
"Doesn't change the fact that I hate the bastard!" Marc snarled. "The control freak!"
Layla rolled her eyes. "You love the guy, Marc. Get over it. You went against overwhelming odds, without powers, and got – him – back!" She raised her eyebrows, arms crossed in front of her chest. "Clue? No, you're clueless. You and him? Match made."
The deity tilted his head, humming in agreement. It sounded almost approving, with a sprinkle of triumph. Spector refused to be baited, even though Steven was close to speaking up again. He silenced him with a glare.
"You match," Khonshu echoed, voice soft, low and hypnotic again. Almost a purr. "You showed your uniqueness as you called upon a power sealed off to you, a power no other could have reached and yet you did. You did what any avatar shouldn't have been able to do. My power resonates inside you, with or without me. You are mine."
Marc stared at him, refusing to feel all that he had felt the moment he had lost him. But he couldn't help it. As chaotic as his emotions were, as much as he had wanted his old life back, he knew there was no going back in time.
"I am game if you are," the moon god teased, voice filled with both amusement and anticipation. There was an almost giddy excitement flickering through him and his fingers tightened around the staff.
"You are so full of yourself," Marc answered automatically. "You always get what you want, right? Jerk."
But he wanted this so much. He had missed the creep.
"I do," Khonshu confirmed. This time the wicked note of triumph was right there.
I don't think it's a weakness to… want, Steven interjected almost shyly. I'm not sure that this is the best thing that ever happened to me… with all the running and shooting, the blood and death, and the threats… not to mention the monsters… the monsters really are freaky… and it's not getting better, eh? But… in a way it is? For us?
Marc felt a tremor pass through him. It was echoed from Khonshu, the winds kicking up, swirling around them in an excited dance. It wasn't the violent display of before. It was warmer, caressing his skin, appeasing and exciting in one.
He wanted him back and he wanted to show the Ennead and everyone else what they could be. There was a quizzical little whisper and he held the empty gaze, filled with endless power.
The staff with the crescent moon at its tip was placed next to him, Khonshu's hand lightly wrapped around the wooden handle.
"You know I'll protect you with everything I have," the entity repeated what he had said one night, what felt like a lifetime ago. "You are worth protecting." It was a promise. A vow. It was more than words.
He had already done it.
Paying the price.
Marc looked inward, met the soft brown eyes of his alter. There was no protest, no arguing. Actually, he looked as excited as he had ever been.
"My oath, Marc Spector," Khonshu murmured, the booming voice so gentle now, so without pretense, bluster or threat. It was everywhere. "My Knight. No more, no less. No strings, no conditions, no payback."
No debts between them. Voluntary service. This… might work. After everything they had been through? After being separated from the entity, finally free, and suddenly even more broken? So hollow and alone? Was he ready to seal a pact that only someone as crazy as him and someone as imperious and snotty as Khonshu might actually manage to work?
He sacrificed himself to help us find Ammit, Steven reminded him almost gently. He knew what would happen if he interfered. He did it nevertheless. He ended up trapped in stone.
Yeah. That. Right.
"Doesn't make him a decent guy either, Steven buddy. He's still manipulating us!"
No, it doesn't make him a good guy; not by a long shot. He's… terrifying… demanding… But he isn't a bad guy either. He truly wants to protect humanity. He proved it.
"For someone who is terrified of him… and who doesn't like what I do… who fought me tooth and nail… you're really selling hard on this one." Marc gave him a scrutinizing look.
Steven shrugged, embarrassed.
"For once, I think the idiot understands better than the bloody menace," Khonshu teased.
He looked up again, studying the other-dimensional entity who was still a bastard, still manipulative, still… here. Alone. Asking, in his own way, for Marc to continue doing a job he was truly good at.
With Khonshu. Not a servitude, but a weird kind of partnership between this mess of a human being and a total mess of a powerful god.
He was shamed. Abandoned. The loner, Steven stated softly. Cast out and banished. You saw how the Ennead Council treated him, right? I know I was there and heard it. That hurt. We're really not all that different. We're all here for a reason.
"You'd make a great lawyer," Marc muttered. "And you'd have been a much better councilor making our case and arguing in front of the Ennead back there."
Steven just shrugged, clearly embarrassed by the praise, but his tentative smile was tell-tale of the pride he took in that.
He saved humanity because he bloody cares about this realm… and that's why I think being his avatar… by choice… is a rather grand idea on the scale of things. Could do worse. I know I did worse. Look at my life! Couldn't even keep a bloody goldfish alive. We make this our choice, not his. No debts on either side. Blank slate. No strings, no conditions, no payback.
"And you want that?" Marc asked softly as the words rang through his mind, holding the alter's gaze. "You would say yes if I agreed?"
Would I be given the choice?
"I swore to you that when this was over, I would give you back your body. You would never see me nor hear from me again. It's over now. That last mission. I honor my promises, Steven. Still sorry about the fish, by the way."
I think you made enough mistakes in the past. Including Gus.
Marc screwed his eyes shut, fighting the emotional reaction, then exhaled sharply.
"You might not be into the whole fighting and killing, but you enjoyed yourself. After a while. You loved the mystery."
Steve chewed on his lower lip. I-it wasn't all bad.
Yep. Guilty as charged.
"You're a geek, Steven Grant."
And you're a bloody maniac who enjoys his side of the work just as much.
Yeah, guilty.
We're in this together and I think, for the first time, we agree on the next step.
After yelling and shouting at each other for the most part of their dual existence, fighting over the body, over decisions, over Marc's life choices… Actually, everything but the moment Khonshu was gone and Marc had mounted the rescue mission. The suicide mission.
Marc opened his eyes, strangely unaware that he had actually closed them at some point, and looked into the endlessness of those empty sockets in the ancient skull. Khonshu huffed a little. Almost surprised but covering it with his usual roughness when dealing with unexpected emotional events.
Steven was right. As powerful as he was, as ancient and so very inhuman, he still had some very human traits. Khonshu might be aloof, with as much political tact and savviness as a fist to the face, and he had never failed to remind his chosen knight who was in charge, but his actions had been founded in true and real care for humanity. Had he been cooler-headed, with more tact, with more control… if he had ignored the emotions racing through him, had been more politically savvy… a lot could have been prevented.
Marc had seen how his own kind had treated him, had doubted his word, had cast him aside. He had felt the old wounds open, had felt the pain, the hot sensation of betrayal. He had been there all the way and he had known when their case had sunk like a lead weight, because Khonshu was too out of control, too emotional, with no filter to speak of.
Speaking of which…
There was one last thing.
"You saved humanity," Spector said thoughtfully, meeting the empty sockets' gaze. "You also saved the sorry asses of your old buddies. Why don't you just go back and play in your own sandbox again? Now that you can."
Khonshu huffed another little laugh, the skull swaying over Marc's head as the magical wind billowed through the linen belts.
"They banished me, made me an exile. Then they ignored my warnings. They sealed me. They are not what you call 'buddies' and never were."
"But you, the persona non grata, proved them wrong. You showed them the truth, that you had been right all the time."
If he could have ruffled feathers, Khonshu would have them now. He certainly gave a good impression of just that.
"I still don't like them."
Marc chuckled. "I suppose the feeling is mutual."
"Probably," came the amused reply.
"So, you're going to haunt this realm? Hunt bad guys? Look for hapless avatars to possess?"
The skull tilted a little. "It is a way to pass the time."
"I'm not going to be your toy…" Spector started, the surge of anger suddenly back at the teasing words.
Teasing.
He stopped, deflating.
Steven was chuckling softly inside him. The scholar had collected enough data to understand so much more than the warrior.
"I still don't like you," Marc grumbled.
Khonshu leaned in closer, the beak almost touching him. "I suppose the feeling is mutual."
Liars. Both of you.
"Oh, get it over with," Layla groaned. "Kiss and make up."
Marc's lips twisted into a grimace. He glanced at his wife, who was smiling at him. It was the smile he had last seen on the boat. The one she had given Steven later on, but not Marc. It was soft, loving…
"You won't be alone in this," she added. "Not again. I won't have you run off, ditch me, then pop up with a boatload of trouble on your tail. We're a team now."
"A team," he murmured.
Khonshu hummed, intrigued.
Marc looked up at the towering figure. "Look it up. It means cooperation. Back-up."
"A team," the god echoed, the word rolling around in Marc's head.
"New concept, I know."
"Only you will be mine, Marc," Khonshu stated darkly. "Unless she takes up the mantle."
Fury flashed through him, hot and unrestrained, like a living thing with a mind of its own. "Hands off," Marc spat.
"So easily angered still," the entity sighed, suddenly behind him, leaning slightly over his avatar. "You are mine, Marc Spector, and nothing will change that. You are perfect."
"Oy! And 'she'," Layla called, gesturing at herself, "isn't going to take up anything. I'm not going to get between the two of you," she flapped a hand at the moon god and his knight, "And 'she' can take care of herself. I don't need an in on this. Four's a crowd."
Marc raised his eyebrows at her and Layla chuckled.
"I like her," Khonshu rumbled and it sounded like laughter. "She will truly make a good… team."
He set down the moon staff in front of Marc, the magical wind gusting around the two figures. He felt the flaps of linen of Khonshu's clothes brush against him, curling over him like the Moon Knight's suit.
"Didn't think you were into ceremonies," the former mercenary muttered as the moon's energy suffused him, whispering around his mind, caressing his soul. The raw sensation inside him eased.
Steven watched it all with wide, curious and inquisitive eyes.
"The first time didn't need a ceremony."
Khonshu's beak hovered so close, the whole presence of the deity so very much there and underlining the fact that this was a lot different than before. This wasn't just choosing a new warrior. This was more.
Marc reached for the moon staff, fingers closing over the surprisingly solid and warm material. He felt it resonate in his fractured but not broken soul. He felt it in his mind, in Steven, in them. He felt Khonshu, that endless, insanely powerful, absolutely immortal entity of another realm. He felt the connection to his mind, his soul, the body that technically belonged to Khonshu but that Marc would always claim as his. And he was very much aware of the moon, felt the energy of the Moon Knight as it settled deep within, just as it was mirrored by Steven's own version of a warrior, Mr. Knight.
One more step and things would never be the same.
"I am Justice," Khonshu said, voice reverberating inside Marc's head, echoing in his soul. "I am Vengeance. I am the Moon. You shall be my avatar, my weapon, the protector, the sword and shield of this realm. You shall be me."
The pure energy of the connection raced through him, stronger and sharper than ever before. The suit's manifestation was like an afterthought, pure power, invigorating, surreal and his second skin. Dark eyes turned pure white as bandages wrapped over him in a complicated pattern that formed his armor and cape.
Khonshu's skull sockets glowed with a similar light and invisible fingers seemed to dig into Marc's chest, right into his soul. Psychic energies rose, enveloping him completely, weaving through his mind in complicated patterns no one would be able to ever untangle.
He closed his eyes at the contact, the sensation of falling deeper into the incredible energy intensifying. It was heady and warm, like wrapped in a dozen blankets, it was safety and home.
"You are mine, Marc Spector," he rasped, the voice everywhere, by-passing his ears, completely in his head. "In every realm. Unconditionally. No strings attached."
"As you are mine, in every realm," Marc heard himself say in a voice that was and wasn't his. "Khonshu, God of the Moon and of Vengeance. You are mine. Unconditionally."
