When Steven got home, just before ten, after he had almost missed the last bus, he felt tired and weary. He hadn't had a real lunch, just a dry sandwich that had tasted even worse than it had looked. He couldn't even remember where he had unearthed that. Dinner had been… well, no, that hadn't happened.
All that because of that stupid fight with a deity only he could see! He would end up in the looney bin if he ever told anyone anything about that. He hadn't even gone to talk to the street artist he had always poured his heart out to. He hadn't seen the bloke at all since his return to London.
Tired, faintly nauseous from the sandwich, and too headachy to really pay much attention, Steven almost yelped when he discovered the skull-headed entity sitting cross-legged on the large bed.
Both looked at one another, Steven conflicted and apprehensive while Khonshu appeared almost as weary as the man felt. The moon god's hands were clenched around the ancient wood of the staff resting across his lap.
The silence was a little unnerving.
There wasn't even the ticking of a clock, but from outside Steven thought he heard the far away noise of the traffic below. It was like a cocoon in here, protected, walled-off, safe.
Safe.
He blinked. Okay. Wow. Yes. Blimey me… He felt safe and protected, enveloped in Khonshu's power. It was kind of like when the god did it with Marc. Steven always got the watered down version of that insubstantial hug, but it felt good.
"I… ah… I'd offer you a drink, but…" He made a weak little gesture. "Or tea."
Khonshu made a soft noise that sounded almost amused. The comforting sensation didn't fade.
"I need a stiff one," Steven mumbled, feeling more releaxed. "But I don't even have a bloody beer in that fridge." He slowly walked closer to the seated deity. "Sorry about dragging up old memories. I know it can be… a bummer."
God, that sounded lame even to his ears.
The skull tilted a little and Steven though he saw something flare in their depths. But maybe it was a figment of his imagination.
"I remember everything," Khonshu told him quietly. "Every single day. There is nothing to drag up, Steven Grant. My mistakes are my own. I will live with the echoes of them every day."
All his choices, good or bad, or just plain the worst he had ever made. Every avatar, every confrontation, every heated argument with the Ennead. All his fateful mistakes, all his wrong choices. All the bad, the worse and the ugly, but also the good things.
"Still… sorry. I can't honestly say I'd ever understand what it's like to be… uhm… you…"
"You cannot."
"Right. And you had reasons… your reasons… which are… well, they were your reasons and I understand that Ammit needed to be stopped. What I'm saying is… I'm really, really sorry. It wasn't my place to… blame you…" His voice tapered off.
Khonshu was this heavy, dark presence, but not threatening. Just very much here… in this room… more than ever before. The god was solely focused on him and it had something inside Steven want to nervously flicker about, but instead there was this grounding effect. As if Khonshu's reality in this realm was keeping him balanced.
"It was," the entity finally said. "It was your place to speak your mind. You are part of this. You protect what you love. It is a very human instinct that I have come to understand now."
Steven stared at him, mouth opening and closing again. He had become quite a pro at reading between the line and what he heard made him happy. Insanely happy. For Marc. For this partnership. For them.
Khonshu had made grave mistakes, had misjudged situations, but he had never been this dark, evil deity, abusing his avatar, using him, casting him away when the job was done. There had been a clock ticking behind that mission to get the scarab. There had been so much at stake and the moon god had been on his own.
"Marc understood the urgency," he added.
"Did he?"
Khonshu inclined his head. "He did. He became my avatar fully aware of what I expected of him. I didn't blackmail him into my service. I didn't force his hand. It was his choice. Things became complicated later…"
"Because of me?"
That got him a rumbling little chuckle. "Not solely, but you played a role. Like you, Marc protects what he loves and cares about. Even the clueless idiot."
The last was a clear poking tease. Steven gave him a tentative smile.
"I do not hurt my avatars," Khonshu repeated, voice low and insistent. "Least of all Marc."
"I understand. I think I do. More than before. We're… good?" he asked carefully. "No hard feelings?"
"The truth is painful," the moon god said after a long moment. "I know it only too well. Many of the other gods have learned that particular pain just lately." He cocked his head. "As did you."
Steven swallowed. He had. It had been tough. And painful, as Khonshu had already stated. So very, very painful.
"We had a bad few days…"
Khonshu regarded him with that heavy, meaningful gaze, coming from empty sockets, yet it spoke lengths. The swirl of power around him was like a gentle hug once more that also prodded him toward the bed.
"Are you starting to mother-hen now?" he asked incredulously.
Khonshu huffed, but the sensation never abated.
Steven changed into sweats and fell into bed with a sigh. There was a silence between them again, but it wasn't uncomfortable this time.
"You're always here, aren't you?" Steven mumbled into the pillow after a long time of not really falling asleep. It was like that fugue state between two worlds. Too tired to get up, yet not tired enough to just drop into unconsciousness.
"Always," Khonshu purred, that dark, dark voice rumbling along his spine and echoing in his mind.
It wasn't threatening. It was a promise that had him relax deeper into the warm hold, had him smile.
"That's…" No longer worrisome. Just reassuring. Knowing he was here, watching, protecting. It was comforting and comfortable. "…nice…" he whispered.
It felt like being covered in insubstantial wings, even though he knew the moon god wasn't really a bird. He had no wings.
"Nice," Khonshu echoed just as softly, and it wasn't sarcastic or taunting.
Steven smiled. He wasn't alone. He had Marc. He had Layla. And they had Khonshu. Yes, it was nice.
They picked up their little Q&A sessions later, when Steven felt comfortable enough to ask more questions. Khonshu didn't so much as try to stop him, answering in his usual way.
"Yatzil made her choice as the rift between humanity and the gods happened, right?" Steven asked carefully, still rather busy with that information working through his mind.
"Yes. She had served Hathor through the time we walked among humankind. Hathor was always choosey. Yatzil was her perfection."
There was an almost wistful note to the dark voice.
Perfection.
Like Marc was now Khonshu's. Okay.
"She's really thousands of years old," Steven murmured. "I can't… really understand… or imagine living this long."
Khonshu regarded him, then leaned forward a little. "All avatars are a temporary vessel of the gods. Those who hide in their realm and refuse to acknowledge the evolution of humanity."
Ah, the old grudge, Steve thought, not saying anything.
"She feels her goddess' presence only should Hathor deem it necessary or important. The length of time is unimportant. Yatzil's mind is influenced by her possessor."
"She has free will!"
"I never claimed she hasn't. Hathor is not a cruel goddess. She cares for her avatar. Should Yatzil ask, she would be free."
"It's not a bond."
"No." The moon god scoffed. "None of them bond. They take care of the human vessel, educate the mind to bear the passage of time, but they don't leave their mark."
Only you did, Steven thought. Then the words really registered.
"Her mind was altered?!" he exclaimed.
"No. She is as she has always been. All avatars are. The human mind needs to learn to bear the passage of years should the vessel choose to remain the servant of their god for more than a lifetime."
"Oh."
"It won't be a burden to you," Khonshu added, so close now, so present. "We are one," he added softly. "A part of me is within your soul. I will protect you."
Steven felt that heavy, timeless gaze on him, was aware of the sincereness, the vow behind those words once more. And deep inside he could feel this core of endless power.
A soul bond, Steven realized, slightly shocked. Permanent. He remembered Khonshu's words as Marc had finalized their new partnership back in Cairo; a lifetime ago.
In every realm… He had been claimed in every realm.
There was no going back.
He was falling, pushed back by a force slamming into his chest. The world took on a strange sepia hue. He fell… and there was water… but he wasn't drowning.
And then he was… somewhere else.
Steven heard the desperate scream, of Marc reaching for Khonshu, of trying to grab for that small shard of the god lodged deep in his soul.
There was the ushabti again. So beautiful and yet a cruel reminder of what had happened. It was on the ground where the action figure had just been and Steven reached for it, driven by the wordless pleas coming from outside.
He curled gentle fingers around it, protective, possessive, so very, very careful.
Power thrummed through him.
Steven stared at the door leading outside.
Marc's voice rose, rough and raw, so open and vulnerable. So alone. So terribly, terribly alone…
Steven woke up with a start, an inarticulate cry tearing from his lips that might have been Marc's name. His hands flailed over his chest, remembering the gun shots, remembering getting shot… The remnants of that dream still bouncing around his head. There were faint images and he felt his lungs constrict, his heart hammering.
The white room. Like a far away thought. People whose faces he knew, present within that weird space that was and wasn't in his head.
Steven scrubbed a shaking hand over his face, through his hair, desperately chasing the dream, but it disappeared between one thought and the next.
It was worse than the first time he had so vividly dreamed and found out it hadn't been a dream at all because…
"No!" he blurted all of a sudden and his eyes shot toward the calendar.
One day later than yesterday.
He scrabbled for his smartphone and checked the electronic time and date.
No missing time. None.
The tension eased and he expelled a breath. He was still trembling, still remembering… not much. Just… faint echoes because… it wasn't his memory. It was one he had been a part of, but it wasn't one he had experienced himself.
"Shit," he whispered hoarsely and ran those shaking fingers through his tousled hair.
Steven. Relax.
"M-marc?"
Yes, it's me. Relax. Everything's okay.
No. Nothing was okay.
"I… sorry… so sorry… it's…" He trembled a little, then forced himself to truly relax. "Habit."
Marc was suddenly there, looking at him. Awoken because of the sudden panic, the spikes racing through his system, looking for a danger that was only imaginary. He had been oblivious to the hot arguments with Khonshu about so many topics, but now he had co-fronted.
Damnit! Bloody hell! It wasn't supposed to be this way!
"Bad habit," Steven added. "Trying to drop it. Not really having much of a success, do I?"
And with his late night conversations with a certain moon god, Steven had started to understand more and more of Marc's role, and with it about the connection he had with this entity, how interwoven they had become.
More than an avatar. The host.
So much more and so very important.
Steven, he cajoled. It's okay. I understand.
"You don't," he mumbled. "We both never did. It's not good the way it is."
What are you talking about? There was a sliver of alarm in Marc's voice and his presence became more pronunced. What's going on?
Steven scrubbed a hand over his face, then turned to look at the silent watcher. It should be weird to wake up to an Egyptian deity perched somewhere in his flat, watching him sleep, eat, work… but Steven had never felt better than those last weeks. He wasn't alone and while their conversations had been a rollercoaster ride, they had helped him understand so much.
Like right now.
This couldn't go on. Not like this.
Marc radiated light confusion at Khonshu's watchful presence. He scowled at the god. He's… here… Why? he demanded.
"He kinda moved in. We… get along. Having a blast, actually."
Marc's frown was almost comical.
Steven rose, a determined expression crossed his unshaven face. He walked toward the bathroom mirror, needing to face Marc as he had countless times throughout the craze that had been his life for a while.
"But it's no longer just about me," he said firmly, meeting the dark eyes of his alter. "We're a team. I'm a part. I can't… force this. I did before and look where it got us."
Steven…
"No! I nearly got you killed a few times! And if not killed, into serious trouble!"
You didn't know what was happening.
"I do now. I know… and understand. This isn't how it is supposed to be!"
Behind him, Khonshu blocked the doorway like a massive sentinel, watching his avatar silently.
I promised, Steven.
"And I appreciate the time, but it feels like some vacation that's one day going to be over. And you dread that day, refuse to acknowledge the limited time, and then you get hit over the head by it. I don't want that."
Steven…
"You promised, I know. And I'm grateful. Really!" He looked into mirror, holding Marc's gaze. "But you are important, too. You're not just the weapon, Marc. Not just the Moon Knight. You're more. Like I'm…"
More? Marc finished quietly. Not just the interference?
"…parasite…" he whispered, evading the dark eyes.
You never were.
"And you were never just the means to an end," Steven told him firmly, looking up again, meeting the ancient gaze of the deity in the mirror. The skull was hovering above Marc, just like it was right behind Steven. The crescent moon of Khonshu's staff reflected the meager light coming in from the other room. Ribbons of linen moved lazily, twirling, dancing, almost caressing him.
"Marc's the Knight," Steven stated, seeking out the hollow sockets. "Not me. We all know that. The arrangement is important. You and him… that's really important… It saves lives… I understand that. I want that, too. Save people, help innocent victims… Just…"
He stopped, eyes flitting to Marc's, then back to Khonshu, and finally he just stared at the sink.
Steven? Marc prompted, voice soft and quizzical.
"There's… this new exhibit I've been looking forward to. Next week. I really want… want to see it," he stumbled over the last words.
Khonshu watched him silently. Still no pressure, no urgency.
"And… if you and Marc have work… and I'm sure you do… I don't mind. At all. I'll just take a nap."
Steven…
"How do you even find those jobs?" he blurted. "I-is there a bulletin board? Do you just look in the daily papers?" He stopped. "I mean… it's… I know it's the job… his job… Important…"
"It is," the god stated calmly.
Steven! Marc tried to stop him.
"No," he told his alter, firmly holding the other's eyes. "I want this, Marc. It's your life! Your body!" He met Khonshu's patient gaze. "I appreciate the time. Really, I do. It's… been lovely. Normal. Marvelously normal. You were a great house mate. Answering my million questions, which you didn't have to. I liked this. But it's Marc's life, too. And I understand it involves violence. If we could make it less of a nightmare… or so jarringly bloody… And if you, you know, let me know if I have to take the trash out, feed the neighbor's cat, buy groceries…" He trailed off, aware of the heavy scrutiny he was under from the immortal entity.
Khonshu was suddenly there, startling him to stumble away from the mirror. The moon god reached out and his fingers ghosted over Steven's jaw. It was so surreal and yet to familiar, he briefly closed his eyes.
"That can be arranged," the deity said gravely. "After the exhibit."
He stared at the powerful being. "W-what? I mean… Really?"
"Do you doubt my word?"
"No! No… I…"
"Marc is my Knight, but you are part of him, Steven Grant." He tapped against Steven's forehead. "Here. He has protected your existence fiercely. You won't be involved." He tapped again. "Unless it is your choice."
We'll find a way, Marc promised and he sounded as fierce and protective as he had several times before. And maybe just a little shaken.
"I'll get a memo board!" Steven blurted, no idea why he had to get that out in the open.
Khonshu chuckled, brushing his knuckles over Steven's left temple again.
Then he was gone.
Steven let trembling fingers flit over his skin where Khonshu's touch had just been.
"That's… new…" he stuttered, looking at his alter.
Yeah. Like the old bird hanging around you.
"It's… nice? Which is… nice…" he finished lamely. "Different."
Marc smiled a little. Yes. It is. Which should freak me out…
"But it doesn't," Steven murmured.
Because the acceptance felt… incredibly good.
And it was time to accept that as much as he wanted to protect Marc, as much as he didn't want him to go back to that place in his mind where he had nearly died, was a selfish choice. They were in this together. They could only heal if they accepted their choices, their sacrifices, as one.
