"I had a dream last night. I mean, I've had it before. Doesn't really matter, it usually ends the same way. I die."
"Not surprising. Tell me what happened. Every detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant."
"Alright. I think I'm in London. There's a man with cursed eyes. He's killed before and he'll kill again. I know the look. And it's like he knows me, like he's expecting me to try and stop him. He asks me what took so long."
It's only a whisper because he lost his voice, Steven interjected.
"Yeah. Yeah, his voice is hoarse," Marc added.
Dr. Strange nodded. "Was it Kaecilius? The man from the street?"
Marc had to reach for the half-remembered fragments of a dream that was actively trying to slip away. "No, I don't think so. Not this time."
Strange hummed. Eerie light danced across his face and the odds and ends that lined shelves along the wall of the small room. As Marc described his dream, Dr. Strange did something complicated with magic, drawing symbols and lines and curves in light. The affect, superimposed over the large woven rug in the center of the room, looked like a dreamcatcher. Several bright beads of light were already woven among its strands, twinkling like stars.
"So that's another me dead," Marc finished. "I guess."
"How many does that make?" Dr. Strange asked gently, not looking up from his work.
Marc shrugged. "Don't know. I wasn't keeping track."
At least six, Steven said.
"At least six," Marc echoed.
"He thinks you're a threat. He's killed you at your weakest so you can't stop him at your strongest. Hair."
Marc plucked out a hair without question and handed it over. "Don't see it makes any difference. I'm not what he thinks I am."
Dr. Strange drew the hair taut and burned through it with an easy gesture. The knot that formed as a result settled among the strands of the dreamcatcher, pulsing gently. "Our other selves can shed light on parts of us we don't want to see. The potential to be like every last one is there. But so is the potential for difference. Whatever you are here, it's not who you have to be everywhere."
Marc grimaced. "Whatever you say." He glanced over at the objects on the shelves, one of which was a bronze vase. Its polished surface caught Marc's reflection.
"What is he scared of?" Strange asked after a beat. "I sensed a great power inside you when you stepped foot in the Sanctum. Dormammu doesn't like it. We can use that."
Marc hesitated. He'd never told anyone about Khonshu except for Layla. The bird had been quiet ever since "releasing" Marc and Steven from their service. He kind of hoped he was crazy this time. Having a complete mental breakdown seemed a lot better than being possessed at the moment.
I don't think we're that crazy yet, Steven pointed out. Figured.
Marc sighed. "His name is Khonshu," he admitted. "He's an Egyptian god. Likes to punish people for their crimes, considers himself a protector of the travelers of the night. I thought he was gone, but…" Are you there? he wondered. You, whoever you are. He searched the reflection of his gaze but all he saw was himself. He looked away. "I don't think he'll be of any help."
Strange nodded. "And you're his avatar."
"You know about avatars?" Steven asked.
"I know that just about every human myth and legend is based on truth. So yes, I know about the Egyptian gods and their avatars. I know about that…incident earlier this year." He gave Steven a pointed look.
"Yeah…sorry about that."
"The point is, he could be a useful ally when we go up against Dormammu."
"Except he's not talking," Marc said.
No, Steven said, a plan rapidly spilling into place. But we can talk to the other guy!
He's hiding from us, just like Khonshu is, Marc pointed out. We can't rely on them.
So we pull them out of hiding. That thing that Dr. Strange did, that made you see him. What if he did it again?
Well that was something. Why didn't Marc think of it? "Hey, Doc, there might be a way to get Khonshu to talk after all but we're going to need your help."
"Oh?"
Five minutes later, Marc was sitting in a chair in a small but cozy room filled with dusty old knick-knacks and old-looking tapestries.
"You sure about this? If Khonshu shows up, I can't do anything," Strange said.
"We can handle him," Marc replied.
"When you're ready to return, I'm just on the other side of that door. But remember, I'm going to have to return all of you at once. There's no telling what kind of mental damage that could do, splitting you apart for long."
"Got it. Just do it."
Marc braced himself. When the magic impact came, it didn't hurt. It was like being yanked backward by invisible ropes. The chair back whispered through him like a temperate breeze. The most alarming part was the sight of himself, slumped in the chair like he was asleep. Then the door closed on Dr. Strange and Marc turned weightlessly to face the other parts of himself.
It was surreal to say the least. It wasn't like that time he died and found himself in the psych ward. He could see right through Steven like he was a ghost and a part of him wondered if he hadn't died again. The biggest difference was this time there were three of them. He had no trouble determining which of them was Steven and which was the other. While Steven was always soft around the eyes, with an open and sincere demeanor, the other's expression gave away nothing. Marc imagined this man beating Harrow to a pulp when neither Marc nor Steven could, hiding in the shadows until he was needed. He imagined him going behind their backs and sticking by Khonshu's side when all Marc and Steven wanted was to be free.
"So," the other said.
"So?" Steven echoed, his voice cracking. He was rubbing the ends of his sleeves together. "Is that it?"
"What's your name?" Marc asked. He tried to keep his voice calm though his thoughts were anything but. He'd known about Steven for a long time. Why not this guy? What made him so different?
The other folded his arms across his chest, hunching a little. To protect vital organs in case of a sudden attack, Marc thought. "Jake Lockley. I know who you are." He sounded Latin American.
"I…" Marc faltered, just taking him in. "You're working for Khonshu," he stated and then wanted to slap himself in the face. What kind of thing was that to say to a guy he didn't even know? A guy who's very existence suggested something dark and traumatic had further split Marc's already fragile mind?
"So were you. I just didn't quit."
"He was using us," Steven said. "He's still using us."
"One of us has to do what needs to be done," Jake said unapologetically. "It wasn't going to be either of you."
Steven took a step toward him. "It was you. You almost killed Harrow."
"Nothing less than he deserved."
"That's not the point," Marc snapped. "Okay. You…you know about us. You kept us alive when Harrow tried to fry our soul so…thanks. But the point is we are a system. We communicate. We agree or we don't do it."
Jake's eyes widened a fraction.
"You did what you wanted and you got us into trouble," Marc continued. "For the love of god, Jake. You broke into the Sanctum Sanctorum."
"Because I needed that mask." Jake unfolded his arms.
"So you decided you'd rob the place?" Steven said. "You could have just asked."
"He might have said no."
"Oh my god." Marc roughly raked his fingers through his hair. This was the man who was living inside him for…for how long? For years? "Where is he?"
"How should I know?"
"Because he's never far away. Khonshu!" Marc didn't care if he sounded unhinged. "Khonshu, you son of a bitch, show yourself!"
Now now, there's no need to shout. Just like that, there he was, emerging from the corner of the room as if he'd been there all along. He carried with him the smell of sand and oils. The kind they used on mummies, Steven had told him once. Marc never wanted to strangle anything more. Marc. His empty eye sockets focused on each of them in turn. Worm.
Marc's hands clenched into fists. "You promised you'd let us go."
You dare to call me a liar? Khonshu loomed, which wasn't hard for him to do. He was always looking down on them. Somehow in this small room, he avoided hitting his head, unfortunately. I did what you wanted. I let you go.
"But you forgot one very important detail," Marc said. "You were just going to let us go back home and live a lie. Go through the blackouts, go insane for wondering. No, you were never going to let us go."
Marc, you're being dramatic. I think I'd rather talk to the worm about this. He's being calm.
"Don't call me that." Steven looked up from his hands. "You demean me every chance you get. And yeah, I get it, I'm not your favorite. But when Marc let you in, you got me too. You get all of us or none at all. Remember that you are nothing without your avatar. So a little respect. Please." The please somewhat softened his rebuke but it did the job. Khonshu actually shut up and was studying Steven with a curious little head tilt. Marc shot Steven an approving glance.
You did have your moments, Khonshu admitted.
"I didn't mean for you to get caught up in this. I was supposed to be back in London by now," Jake said.
"We are a part of it, whether you like it or not," Marc said. "You don't get to decide that for us."
But you do? Khonshu said with a wave of his staff at Steven. Did you consider him when you pledged yourself to me? Did you ask him if it was okay?
He hadn't. He was going to die and…he was okay with that. He was okay with dying and…what, taking Steven with him? That wouldn't have been fair. Neither was roping them both to Khonshu, as much as he tried to keep Steven in the dark about it. Because look how well that turned out.
"Don't pretend like you're on my side," Steven said. "That was…" He trailed off and glanced at Marc.
"Yeah, it was wrong." God, if things had been different… If things had been different, they'd be dead.
"But that's done," Steven put in for him. "And…and maybe it was for the best. I quite like being alive, actually. But that doesn't mean we keep doing it." He faced Jake. "Whatever he promised you, it's not worth it. It's not worth him."
My avatar, the hypocrite, Khonshu said. You were content enough to fight my fight. To protect the travelers of the night. Jake has no doubts. He's a good avatar and you would have him stop. You could have left this place but you didn't. You are not done being the hero yet, Marc Spector and Steven Grant.
"We wouldn't be here if not for you," Marc said. "Maybe we should just go home. Maybe it's not our problem."
"People are dying," Jake said. "I had to look into it."
"Heroes are popping out of the woodwork, mate," Steven said. "You hear about that girl the DODC were after a couple weeks back? The world doesn't need us."
"So you expect me to do nothing?"
"We expect you to not do something stupid with our body."
"I saved your life," Jake snapped. "In London, one of those…a corrupted sorcerer tried to murder you. Broad daylight."
"Why don't I remember it?" Marc asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Because I took care of it. Not before he killed innocents though. Khonshu sensed he had some kind of otherworldly power. Like he was an avatar for some greater force, no god we know about. I came here to find a relic that would let me see what that power is."
"Dr. Strange says it's Dormammu," Steven said. "We agreed to help out."
Excellent. I knew you'd come around.
Marc jabbed a finger at him. "We are not doing it for you." He turned on Jake. "He's using you. We promised we'd help but once that's done, we're going to have another long talk. And you're going to need to find another avatar."
Such certainty in your words.
"Yeah, well, I'm not dying this time."
So you two accept your continued service to me?
"We don't accept it," Steven said. "But we'll live with it."
"For now," Marc added. What choice did they have? Khonshu was just tightening the noose all over again. Round and round they went, chasing a promise they would never get. "I'm going to ask Dr. Strange to put us back now. But you, Jake. You don't get to be in charge."
He couldn't tell how Jake felt about that. He'd returned to standing with crossed arms like an observer rather than a participant in the unfolding drama. And as much as Marc wanted to know who this stranger was, he didn't have the capacity for it right now. He couldn't help but feel betrayed. This Jake Lockley struck him as a man capable of a lot of things and Marc didn't know if he wanted to know what all of them were.
Being put back in his body didn't make him feel any better. It was like something crawling beneath his skin just beyond his reach but always there. Any second he could black out and realize he'd only ever had the illusion of control.
"This is only temporary," Marc said as he left the Sanctum. "Promise."
Right. Yeah, Steven said. He sounded distracted. Probably feeling a hint of betrayal himself. All Marc had wanted was to give Steven the good life Marc had never had.
"You hear that, Jake?" Jake's answer, if anything, was too deep down to hear.
"This isn't going to be like last time." Marc slipped his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. "Khonshu won't take what's left of us."
Who are you calling?
"Layla. I left her in the dark once." He hit number one on speed dial and listened for the ring. "I'm not doing it again."
Days passed and in those days, Stephen mapped out the multiverse. It was an arduous process and he was not without his own nightmares, but it seemed his theory was correct. Dormammu's followers were on the move and wherever they went, they were opposed.
"There was this epic battle. Some of the Ta Lo warriors were there, people who are dead in this universe," Shang-Chi said. "We won but I get the sense the fight's not over. They're preparing for another attack."
"Star-Lord and I were riding these giant space whales, right," Thor's story went. "And there was this big head."
That piqued Stephen's interest. "Dormammu?"
"I don't know. It was this big, like, you know, one of those wester heads."
Stephen deflated. "You mean Easter Island heads?"
"That's the one. There was this big planet head and its hair was trees, right, and the Mindless Ones were hiding in the trees…"
"I fought them," Scott announced proudly. "For like, two minutes. And then I died. It was horrible."
Each opposition added a point on the map and the map grew. Pinpoints of light scattered like stars across the dreamcatcher, radiating out from home base (that was Earth 616) toward…somewhere. Dormammu's ultimate destination. But they were still a long way from calling an exact location and for every glimpse of the Mindless Ones, there were dreams that meant absolutely nothing, dreams of far off, unimportant places. Stephen's own dreams seemed designed to haunt him more than prove useful.
He spent a lot of time in this room, mulling over the map and trying to figure it out. It wasn't exactly like mapping the new world. The dreamcatcher was a blank slate, with Earth 616 in the center. He'd had to combine his knowledge of several distinct and decidedly advanced spells to pin down the "locations" of other universes, using dreams as the anchors. The locations were more like collections of data pointing the way. When they had their destination, America could take them there.
Still, it was a lot. And things weren't moving as fast as he would like. Clea had warned him an incursion was imminent. With Dormammu loose on the multiverse, it was no exaggeration to say one could happen at any time. All the more reason to find him and end this quickly.
Stephen tapped one of the diodes of light and coaxed it into expanding. Images blurred past, coalescing into his one personal contribution. Obscured in dream fog, his own likeness faced down Kaecilius. Kaecilius was bleeding. The other Stephen raised a hand to attack and his fingers were stained ink black.
Bats floated through the dreamcatcher, light bending through his ghost form like water.
Stephen collapsed the dream and raised his eyebrow at the dog. "Need something?"
"Uh…Wong was worried about you."
Stephen raised the other brow. "Was he?"
"Okay, I was worried too. You work a lot."
"I just needed to check on it, make sure I didn't miss anything." A single detail could put everything off. Miss by an inch, miss by a mile, and all that.
Bats came to sit beside him. "I dreamed I was chasin' squirrels. Does that help?"
Stephen smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."
"So, uh…I was wonderin'," Bats said, shifting his paws. "If, um, we could go for walkies?"
This time Stephen laughed at the pleading look in Bats' eyes. "Sure." Whether or not this was a distraction tactic, Stephen probably needed it. He'd thought himself in loops over the dreamcatcher spell. Maybe a clearer head for clearer thinking was just what he needed.
"Oh boy, oh boy." Bats spun twice and then floated through the closed door, his tail wagging. Stephen was getting up when Bats stuck his head back in. "You coming or not?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Some of us need to use doors," Stephen said and joined Bats. "You know, I've always wanted a dog," he added as he locked and warded the door, leaving the dreamcatcher and its nightmares behind.
A/N: Before leaving London, Jake made arrangements to have someone look after Steven and Marc's fishies. That's important. Not to the plot, just...in general XD