With slow, careful steps, Layla closed the distance, looking at the fully suited-up Moon Knight and the god towering over him. Khonshu met her calm eyes, humming, sounding pleased.
"You're still a showy, pompous jerk, despite being trapped in stone and then rescued by us. But you're welcome," she commented. "Just be glad he likes you so much. Because you won't get so much as a small finger from me, Khonshu."
He chuckled, truly amused by her, and Marc felt it. He was aware of so much, looking into the endlessness, the void, and somehow he wasn't terrified to meet the entity on this level anymore. Steven was fascinated, whispering to himself as if he was taking notes.
Marc felt physically connected to that endless flow, to the entity that was and wasn't him. He felt Khonshu's mind, so inhuman and still filled with so many very human emotions and insecurities.
With all their imperfections, they were perfect together. Chaos and yet completion. Balanced.
The god huffed a little, apparently quite aware of his avatar's thoughts.
"On this level, we are one, Marc Spector," Khonshu told him with an almost evil smirk. "This is the new… arrangement. Our partnership. I can sense you perfectly. Every thought, every emotion, all of you."
"I think it's called possession. Stay out of my head," he snarled.
The raspy laugh startled him a little. "I shall always be with you," the entity murmured provocatively. "Despite the different terms of our agreement. You always were and you always will be only mine."
"I really hate you."
"I know." He sounded very fond.
Marc expelled a sharp breath, shaking his head.
Possession is a lot more… uncomfortable, Steven chimed in. At least it was back in the council room.
Yes. That. That had been… very uncomfortable. An invasion. Draining, too. The emotional barrage his body and mind had been under had been almost too much. Marc prided himself on his control, on his stamina, on his strength, and on his training, but back then, it had leeched every ounce of that strength out of him. Khonshu's presence inside him had been invasive… angry… so very angry and close to losing control, screaming at his fellow gods and making his avatar weak.
Harrow had preyed on that weakness like the vulture he was.
And that was actually insulting vultures, Marc mused.
No, they hadn't been in a good place back then to begin with. Khonshu had made it much worse and it hadn't gotten any better afterwards.
The other avatars had made it look so effortless.
Because they don't think their gods are bloodthirsty jackasses, Steven just remarked with a wry little smile. Theirs is a cooperation.
"He still is one," Marc muttered. "That will never change!" He glared at the taller figure who had slid in front of him and who was quite aware of the argument involving him.
But now it's a mutual partnership. Not a possession, Marc. Working together.
"Listen to the idiot," Khonshu rumbled.
Steven huffed, giving a half-hearted glare that wasn't even close to scary.
"He has good ideas," the god added.
Now he acknowledges it! Steven exclaimed. Calls me an idiot and a genius in one!
The suit retracted, leaving just Marc. He briefly closed his eyes, invigorated by the energy that had permeated every cell, and still mentally exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster in one. Not just now. The past days… weeks… There had been no real sleep. There had been nothing but the mission.
Constant pressure. No relief. No sleep. His body functioning, his mind always on edge. Saving himself, saving Steven, Layla, the world, humanity… always running and fighting, his body healing mortal wounds, the pain never really his own, the exhaustion never leaving… the desperation, the need to bring this to an end…
He had.
Now he had.
And he had started it all again, but different this time. His mind tried to catch those faint memories of the final confrontation and all that had been before, but it wasn't really there. Gone with one of his alters. Like from another lifetime.
His eyes snapped open again when he felt Konshu's touch against his temple and cheek, the back of his fingers caressing his skin.
Gentle.
Caring.
He caught faint surges of something, undefined, like clouds passing through his fingers.
Insubstantial. Still real.
"You do not need to know," the moon god told him, voice so soft it was barely more than a wispy whisper. "Only know that you were found worthy. My perfection."
The suit thrummed under his skin.
"You should rest, Marc Spector."
He would be allowed to sleep. No sudden switches. Just sleep.
And then I wake up in my flat feeling like I was run over by a bus? Leg chained to the bed? All just another episode? Some black-outs and lots of nightmares I can't really remember? Because I'm not supposed to be here?
Khonshu's touch grew firmer, turning Marc's head to gaze into the dark eyes, looking past Marc and right at Steven.
"No," he told the alter. "No, you are exactly where you are supposed to be."
"It won't happen ever again," Marc said, voice cold and hard. "Ever. That I swear."
Dreams were part of the brain's default network, dealing with events of the day. They were recent autobiographical episodes that became woven with past memories to create a new memory to be referenced later.
At least the scientists said that.
In his case, sleep had been a terrifying time. He had been frightened of falling asleep, of what he might do, where he might go, and to lose time.
You do need the rest, he finally told Marc.
Yes. Really. He did. Marc knew he was at the end of his rope, and Steven… Steven had run and run and been there all the time, along for the wildest ride of his life, without rest and pause. He had been thrown back and forth between fronting and the oblivion, sometimes hovering at the edge between both, fighting to have his life, his body, back.
"The bed's nice and comfy," Layla threw in.
Khonshu and Marc turned to look at her, as if they had truly forgotten she was there.
"Just in case you want to know. Downstairs. Second door on the right. Grab a shower, some sleep, see what happens," she added with a smile.
Marc felt something shiver through him, pushing him to follow that need for rest.
"So that's what it's like now?" he asked the deity next to him. "You're still pushy, but now you do it in a caring way?"
Khonshu tilted his head, radiating amusement. "I always cared, Marc. Always."
He went looking for the bedroom, finding actually two. He chose one. It was cast almost in complete darkness, the curtains drawn, the night outside warm. Stripping out of his clothes, Marc took a shower first, just as Layla had suggested, then fell into bed, uncaring that he was…
Butt-naked, Steven murmured with a sigh. You didn't even dry off!
"Tired. Go to sleep."
Sleep. Real sleep. No weirdness?
"I promise," Marc mumbled into the sheets, feeling exhausted and strung so tight he was about to snap
He didn't care if he woke up two weeks from now, or tomorrow.
He was out like a light not much later.
The moon rose, barely a cloud in the sky there to obscure its cool, calm light. The curtains across the bedroom's window had moved, no longer obstructing the light, and it brushed gently over the sleeping form.
Leaning against the rough wall next to the window where a mild breeze made it through, Khonshu watched his avatar sleep. All of him. Completely. For the first time since their deal had been made, both slept.
A new situation. Everything was new now.
Khonshu found the newness… interesting. Curiously so. He wasn't too much concerned with as to who would rise first in the morning. For the first time since their deal had been made, it didn't matter.
It surprised the eternal entity. Just like his fondness of Marc Spector had surprised him. Or his decision to sacrifice his freedom for his chosen, truly protect him with everything he had and help find Ammit's tomb to stop her.
And Marc had come for him.
He had fought and won against insurmountable odds, had clawed his way out of a mental cage that had eaten away at his alters, had torn them apart, had left him screaming out his pain and frustration.
He had broken through. Against Ammit's judgment.
Crouching next to the motionless form, watching the rise and fall of his chest, Khonshu hummed softly to himself.
Yes, things had changed. The weight of the old contract was gone. The new… agreement… arrangement… partnership… it felt natural. Weightless.
He had made his choices. He stood by his vows.
A wrapped knuckle brushed down one temple. He felt the quiet, sleeping mind. Absolute quiet. Soul-deep.
For the first time… since their deal had been made, Marc was quiet.
Khonshu might have gone about his solitary, driven mission the wrong way, but he had succeeded.
His avatar was his own, of his own free will. The moon's power felt natural in him, no longer a burden. It permeated his very mind and soul, and Khonshu was intrigued how quickly that had happened.
"Perfect," he murmured and brushed back a curly lock.
Keeping vigil over the healing soul, Khonshu stayed as the moon light crept over the floor through the lazily moving curtain; as the world outside never quieted for real, but in here, it was just that: quiet.
