Marc bolted up, gasping for air as the sheets pooled around his hips, his brown eyes wide, panicked and frantically darting across the room, watching the shadows around him. Watching for movement, enemies, something that might jump out. Watching for shapes, bodies, anything unfamiliar. His body trembling from fear as anxiety filled him, his brain on red alert as he prepared for the worst to come. Memories of his past flashing before his eyes as if he was reliving them all over again, haunting him as though he was living a nightmare, unable to differentiate reality from dreams. His mothers angry, scorned tears, her abuse, her cruelty and neglect, her blame projected towards him for the accident, wishing he was the one who passed. He could still hear her voice, how angry, bitter and resentful she sounded. Where his fragile mind cracked and Steven took control because Marc couldn't handle the weight of his grief. Where his psyche became so fragile it splintered, Steven coming to the surface to protect him just as he had when Marc was young. Being shot by Harrow in Alexanders tomb, meeting Tawaret and finding peace in the afterlife, being chosen by Khonshu as he lay dying, the moon god saving him. All flashing behind his eyes in a blur, images dancing faster than he could choose, it all felt so vivid, so real.
Layla moaned sleepily beside him, curling up under the sheets undisturbed, unaware of her husband's distress or anxiety. Marc closed his eyes, rubbing the tips of his fingers against his eyes to calm himself. Hoping to drive away the distress forming in his mind, wishing he could think of anything else. Sweat running down his body, soaking the sheets and his pillow, the shape of his body, shivering from fear, shivering from the memory. He was still in the dream, the aftershocks hitting him, still hyper vigilant to the world around him. Trying to control his breathing, trying to control his anxiety, he couldn't breathe, his chest heaving, his stomach contracted into knots. He felt trapped, constricted, afraid, it all felt so real.
"Marc, Marc are you ok? What's happening?" Steven asked, he could feel the fear pooling inside him. One minute he'd been sleeping peacefully, the next he was suddenly frightened. Were they in danger?
Marc licked his lips, as always Steven was the first one to respond, the first one to sense his distress, so he never felt alone. Steven his protector, the person who made his childhood bearable. Even now Steven was protecting him, trying to comfort him, wondering if he needed to front. He'd never been happier to hear his alters voice "Steven?" he gasped his voice begging.
"What happened?" Steven asked, he needed to know what was going on, why was he so frightened. Was he hurt? Had something happened?
Marc sighed, resting his hands against his knees thoughtfully, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The things he couldn't tell people, the past he tried so hard to bury, the life choices he could never take back. He wouldn't be able to settle, he was awake for the foreseeable future. But he knew Steven would keep probing if he didn't answer him, assuming the worst and worrying endlessly. "Just... just a bad dream" Marc mumbled.
Layla shifted, yawning softly, as her breathing changed, rolling over to check on her lover. She'd felt his breathing change, she had sensed his movement and at first thought he was going to leave the bed. Marc had always been a light sleeper, consequences of his abusive childhood and work as a mercenary. But this was different, something was very wrong with her husband, she knew that he hadn't switched between his alters. She saw Marc sitting up in bed, his position hostile, hugging himself for comfort. Like a small child trying to console themselves after a bad dream in an attempt to be brave. She slowly sat up, watching him cautiously, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. She had felt him move in the bed, bolting up and pulling the sheets from her. She knew Marc had nightmares, he'd told her all about how cruel and negligent his mother became post the death of his brother. The physical and verbal abuse she threw at him, blaming him for the accident. She knew about his career as a mercenary, about the scarab, about Harrow, all of it. She hated knowing her husband had faced this alone instead of reaching out to her, like he was ashamed. She knew how hard it was for him to open up but he was learning to overcome it. How all of it had cracked his fragile psyche, she could only imagine the horrors that haunted him in the peace of sleep. Rubbing her eyes calmly, wiping sleep from them as she moved closer to him. "Marc?" she questioned, her voice soothing.
Marc shifted, suddenly aware of her voice, suddenly aware he wasn't alone. Slowly pulling his senses back, processing what he could see, what was safe. He'd hurt Layla, he knew that and he couldn't undo it, but he was trying to make amends. She knew about his deal with Khonshu, she knew about him being an avatar. She was part of his world now, part of the dangers. He hated hiding things from Layla, from his wife, but he couldn't tell her. How could he possibly explain the monsters that haunted him? The demons he couldn't repress, after defeating Ammett, after defeating Harrow they promised they wouldn't keep any more secrets. They wouldn't lie to each other, they would confide in each other, they would try and overcome their problems together. She became the avatar for Tawaret, she was stronger than she looked, but he just wanted to protect her. "Sorry... I know it's late...just... forget it..." he stammered, he didn't want to disturb her sleep. He wanted her to at least have some peace.
Layla softened, she knew Marc deflected due to habits, self preservation, a fear of letting people in. He believed it was easier alone as he could protect himself and from hurting others. Steven had told her all the pain and grief Marc harboured that he hid from others, she could see the pain and fear behind Marc's eyes, terrified to let people in. Believing he deserved to suffer, this was punishment for all he'd done. But she knew better, she knew what kind of man he was and she loved him; Marc was no monster, he was just broken inside. She placed a hand gently on his arm "Who did you see?" she asked.
Marc licked his lips, tears spiking his eyes, some spilled over his cheeks onto the sheets, dampening them further. The salty taste of his tears brushed his lips. The fear pouring through him in waves, the memories blinding him, guilt swallowing him whole. Faces he could never forget, lives he had hurt or taken, never asking questions of what the moon god wanted. "I... all of them...all of it.." he admitted, every mistake he ever made, every person he ever hurt, every life he had taken, all of them haunting him. Losing his brother, becoming the avatar for an Egyptian moon god, all the pain and suffering he'd endured.
Lila softened, cupping his face tenderly, stroking her fingers across the outline of his face. She could see how weak he looked, so fragile, lost within the pain inside and trying to find comfort. Knowing the deal Marc made, knowing the commands he had to follow, trying to protect Steven from the truth. He thought he could handle the burden alone, shoulder it so nobody else had to. Kissing him softly, kissing his face to soothe him, feeling him soften beneath her touch, letting her in. "حبيبي, no more tears" she soothed, she knew how speaking Arabic comforted him, the sound of her words touching his heart. She knew her husband carried pain, he carried the weight of the guilt that ate him alive. He cast her aside to not get her involved, because he couldn't tell her the truth. She knew he had trauma, more than any person she had ever met before, a broken man. He couldn't undo what he'd done in the past, the memories, but he was a different person, none of these things made him a bad person. "Talk to me" she soothed, she couldn't understand if he didn't let her in, her brown eyes gentle, loving and patient. She knew about Steven, she knew about his alters, about his mental health, all of it; she didn't love him any less.
Marc hesitated, his body rigid and still trembling, it was too much, he couldn't find the words. How was he supposed to look her in the eye and pour his heart out to her? How was he even supposed to explain? What if she never looked at him the same way, he couldn't bear that. "I... fuck I can't" he stammered, he felt sick, this gnawing emptiness in his stomach, he felt like he might throw up. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and he couldn't lose her again; but he wanted her close, he needed her here, he needed her with him. He couldn't talk, he couldn't think about that, he just wanted to forget "Just... hold me, please" he begged.
Layla softened, she had never heard Marc so weak, so desperate, so afraid. He was pleading for her to not press the matter, that he just wanted to be consoled and reminded he was loved. He would tell her when he was ready to, he would speak when his head was clear, just not now. She wrapped her arms around her husband, cradling his head, holding him close to her chest, stroking his dark curls as she felt him nuzzle into her. She knew Marc never had an affectionate or loving childhood. The same forms of affection, the same nurturing love, the same tenderness, it was alien to him. Holding him tight, making sure he was safe, making sure he knew he was loved. "I'm here, Steven is here, we're both with you, you aren't alone Marc. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you" she soothed. She would never let anyone like Harrow lay their hands on him again.
Marc shifted, her words were like honey, she always made him feel so safe, the person he trusted more than anyone. Layla would fight blood and claw for him, she would kill for him, she had nearly killed for him. When Harrow shot him in the tomb she hunted him down, prepared to take his life. She became the avatar for another Egyptian deity to protect her husband and save him. Layla was street smart, she was resourceful and she was cunning, she didn't scare easily "Baby".
"Khonshu can't hurt you, Harrow is gone, You're safe mate" Steven's voice echoed from within. They had broken their deal with him, they came as a package and Steven would no longer be ignored or demeaned. Khonshu would no longer manipulate them and they would be treated with respect. Harrow had been dealt with, defeated and Ammett was sealed within him, he didn't have to watch over his shoulder for danger.
"Steven?" Marc mumbled, he was happy they were both here, offering words of comfort when he needed it. Helping him to lower his walls and accept them. Steven had protected him since he was young and he tried to return the favour by keeping Steven naive and happy. Even now when he was scared, vigilant, woken by a nightmare, crying and dripping in sweat. Steven was here, soothing him, calming him and trying to reassure him.
"Just let her hold you" Steven smiled. Marc wasn't as invincible as he made people believe, he was human, he was weak and he was lonely. He was touch starved, he was hesitant and he was self preserving, he knew when and how to avoid danger. For the longest time he had a burner phone, just to keep people from finding him. Marc needed to let people in, let the people who loved him take care of him. Layla was his wife, someone who would fight hell and back for him, someone who could balance him out. He couldn't keep shutting her out to protect her. Layla was the person who loved them most of all, Layla became an avatar herself to save them during the battle. She had kept her arrangement to Tawaret in case Khonshu tried to put Marc and Steven in danger again. Layla had been on Marc's side the whole time, she helped him gather information, she helped him beat Harrow, she helped him find the tomb and more. Layla had become softer around Steven, adapting to their different personalities and noticing when they changed alters. When someone else took over the body. She was loving and protective over all of them.
Marc rested against her, breathing in her perfume, the warmth of her skin and the beat of her heart. Just letting her touch him, letting himself be fragile with her, the way her fingers stroked his hair and made him feel safe. He often felt he didn't deserve this kind of devotion, this sort of loyalty, she was the best thing that ever happened to him. "I can't stop seeing their faces, the memories" he whimpered, would they ever go away?
Layla soothed him, hushing and cooing to make him calm, gentle soothing sounds to ease him. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him, having to live with the memories of the people he'd hurt, the people he'd killed. The things that Khonshu had made them do under his servitude as his avatar. The guilt he carried, the shame and the fear, trying to erase and forget his past as though it never happened. "It's not real, none of it is, it's in the past Marc, a closed chapter. They can't hurt you anymore, they can't reach you. I'm here and so is Steven" she soothed. Tawaret would never let Khonshu hurt them again, she would rather fight the moon god than let him take advantage of the boys. She knew how much Layla loved them too. She had accepted and embraced her relationship with the fertility goddess, realising how much healthier it was than Khonshu.
"You aren't there anymore mate" Steven agreed, he had a new life, a second chance and he could finally move on from the monsters in his mind.
Marc smiled, they were right, they were both right, he was home, in his bed in the arms of his wife. There was no danger, no enemies and nothing lurking in the shadows. He was here, he was laid in bed comforted by his wife, her fingers delicately stroking his skin with tenderness. With Steven speaking to him, his wife speaking to him, the two people closest to him, both of them soothing his fears. Pulling him from the depths of his mind, the mess of his own insecurities and fear, reminding him he was loved. He was safe.
حبيبي-Habibi/My love