Dr. Samson paused in his notes, looking up at his patient with concern.
"It sounds like this Arthur Harrow really got under your skin", he said carefully. "Did you… Did you ever find out if what he said was…?"
"I did", Steven said stiffly. "But not back then. That came… later. Today, looking back on it, I understand why Jake and Marc didn't want to tell me… But back then, it was the one thing that almost made me throw the towel."
"Marc was connected to this too?" Samson asked.
"Marc was connected to everything", Steven groaned.
XxX
Chapter 10 - Jake&Steven, meet Marc Spector
A sudden, loud bang jolted Jake awake. He was still stuck in darkness, stiff and unmoving. The sound came again, echoing from above like someone was hitting the outside of the space where he lay. He blinked, disoriented, and then, abruptly, a beam of light shot down as something opened above him. A firm hand grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him up.
Jake found himself hauled out of the darkness and dropped unceremoniously into the back seat of a car. Not just any car, either—the familiar, pristine white limousine Khonshu favored when they went out on particularly grim hunts. But something felt different, off. Jake glanced around, his head spinning, then froze when he noticed… himself. Or almost himself, sitting next to him, dressed in Steven's ratty brown windbreaker, an annoyed expression on his face.
This other version of him didn't have the usual cap Jake wore in his own self-image, and his posture was slouched, much like Steven's, but the glare he leveled at Jake was anything but friendly.
"What the… where are we?" Jake asked, trying to shake off the daze.
"I don't know. This wasn't my idea, believe me," Steven replied, his voice biting.
This...was a part of their mindscape, if Steven was here too, outside of his body. Jake spend a lot of time in the mindscape when he wasn't tired enough to sleep but also wasn't needed up front. Usually though it was just him in there. Jake often compared his various stages of awareness to sitting in the passenger, the back seat or being locked in a trunk – but he didn't usually visualize it this detailed.
When he looked through the window, Jake could see a dark garage, filled with other cars and a door in the distance, leading further up into the building that was their mind. Up ahead past the divider of the limo there was no steering wheel, no drivers seat, just two more regular passenger seats. And beyond that, visible only in a blurry way through the front window, he could see... himself again, or rather yet another copy, moving around, speaking muffled words.
"Marc's up", Steven told Jake coldly. "He's trying to talk to me."
Jake watched Steven warily. "Alright… I guess this setup means you've gotta move up there to talk to him." He nodded toward the front seats.
Steven shot him a glare, his eyes cold and unyielding. "I'm not doing this alone, Jake. You're coming with me. And while we're at it, you've got some explaining to do."
Jake felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. "Steven… what Harrow said—he's just trying to divide us apart, to make us doubt each other."
"Maybe," Steven said bluntly, his voice steady. "But that wouldn't work if what he said wasn't true." He glared at Jake, daring him to deny it.
Jake flinched, opening his mouth, but no words came out.
"Good grief", Steven made and looked away, his hands running shakily through his hair. "No. I'm not doing this alone," he muttered, the determination in his voice mingling with anger and something that sounded almost like hurt. "And I'm certainly not doing this twice. You're coming with me, Jake." With that, he pushed himself up and crawled through the divider to the front seat, his expression resolute as he glanced back at Jake. "Come on. Don't make me drag you up here."
With a sigh, Jake muttered, "Mierda," and shifted forward, squeezing into the passenger seat beside Steven.
The view to the other side was much clearer now. The windshield showed them what Marc saw in the body. Right now it looked like it was night and he had to be outside somewhere. They could see trees overhead. Marc was looking at a small hand mirror, one that folded in the middle and Jake knew that from his point of view, both Steven and Jake would now be visible in one half each.
"There," Steven said, his tone mutinous. "Now we're all here. I'm Steven." He pointed to himself, then to Jake. "This is Jake. And I suppose that makes you Marc. So let's get on with this, yeah?"
Marc looked taken aback, his gaze flickering between Steven and Jake, lingering on Jake as if he were a stranger. His eyes narrowed in confusion and shock. "Steven… and Jake?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Since when… Why are there two of you?"
For the second time in minutes, Jake felt like he'd been punched. Marc didn't recognize him. All this time, Jake had suspected it, but hearing the confusion, the almost alien unfamiliarity in Marc's voice still hit like a hammer. Jake couldn't even bring himself to meet Marc's eyes.
"Yes, there's two of us," Steven snapped, his frustration evident. "We're living in your head—or each other's heads, or whatever." He paused, eyes narrowed. "Jake's been around since at least High School, I think. And me—well, you know about me, don't you, Marc? I'm the only one here who's been left out of all this!"
"Steven…" Jake's voice was low, pleading, pain lacing his tone. He hated seeing the other so angry, so upset. It was so utterly atypical for the man he'd gotten to know over the last few days.
"What?" Steven snapped, his frustration spilling over. "I have every right to be upset, Jake! Vigilantes and Egyptian gods and now murder —I'm done with it!"
Jake rubbed his face, torn between wanting to ease Steven's pain without knowing how and fighting against his own nausea. In the end he turned toward Marc, hoping to refocus. "What happened, Marc? How did things get so… out of control?"
Marc's expression darkened. "What happened?That's what I'm trying to figure out! Why are we in Italy? Why did I have to crash-land a plane? And why the hell was Layla there, getting dragged into all this?" He cast an accusatory glare at Jake. "And who are you, exactly?"
Jake tensed, meeting Marc's gaze. "I'm Jake Lockley," he replied, not sounding nearly as firm as he would've liked.
"Are you the one who turned that plane into a massacre?" Marc's voice was harsh, his eyes narrowed.
Jake stiffened, jaw set. "They were cult members, Marc—Harrow's people. I had to—"
"You killed them!" Marc's voice rose with anger. "You took lives, using my hands, Jake!"
"Marc, that's not important right now!" That was Steven and both Marc and Jake looked at him incredulously as he unexpectedly defended Jake. "Those people tried to kill me and they nearly killed Layla. Jake did what he had to - unlike certain other times", he added, glaring at Jake, who inched back from him, trying to look anywhere else.
Marc paled. "Other times? What... No. How often... How many...?"
"I was trying to protect you, Marc," Jake exclaimed, desperation creeping into his voice. "I was trying to save our life. All of ours."
Steven muttered under his breath, "Not when you're working for Khonshu, you're not." His voice was icy, and for a moment, Jake felt a sting of betrayal, his anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Those people deserved it," Jake pressed, but he looked only at Steven, unable to meet Marc's gaze. "I don't kill innocents, Steven. I told you that."
"Yeah, well, turns out that was a lie, wasn't it?" Steven's voice was sharp, his arms crossed defensively.
Jake's expression hardened. "Don't, Steven. We're not going there—not here, not now, and not like this."
"Oh, really?" Steven challenged, his eyes flashing with anger. "Because you don't want Marc to know?"
"Know what?" Marc's voice trembled slightly, his face a mask of confusion and dread.
Jake clenched his fists, the words caught in his throat. "We don't have time for this," he growled. "There's still the scarab mission to finish. Isn't there?" He finally turned to Marc, desperate to change the subject.
But Marc shook his head, his face set. "No. I want to hear this."
Jake's control snapped. "Fine! Screw you both! Everything I've ever done—even before Khonshu—was to protect you two! Maybe it wasn't pretty, maybe there was… collateral damage—"
"Collateral damage?" Steven's voice was incredulous, his jaw slack. "Is that what you're calling it?"
Jake glared at him, his anger flaring. "You don't understand. It wasn't like that—Harrow twisted the truth to turn you against me!"
"Then what was it like, Jake?" Steven's voice was biting, filled with frustration and pain.
"I... I can't tell", Jake made helplessly.
"You said you would!" Steven shouted, frustration boiling over. "You promised me once Marc was back you'd tell me everything!"
"Everything you needed to know!" Jake said desperately, his voice taut with despair. "Not… not this. And especially not with Marc right here!" He gestured toward Marc, as if begging Steven to understand. "Don't you get it, Steven? This is dangerous! One of us has to keep control—get us through this mission. If we do this now, none of us might make it out."
"I don't care about your bloody mission!" Steven retorted fiercely. "I want the truth. Now."
Suddenly, Marc's voice cut in, quiet but firm. "Jake's right."
Steven turned to him, feeling a deep, stinging betrayal. "What?"
Marc swallowed, visibly gathering himself. "I'm sorry, Steven. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way, and I know this must all be confusing. But Jake just admitted to killing two people—who knows how many more he's hurt in Khonshu's name. And maybe even before that. I don't even want to think about what else he's done… but if he's hiding something, with that kind of history, it's bound to do even more damage if it comes out now. We can't risk it. Not right now."
Jake let out a breath, sagging in relief, though Marc's words felt like knives. He could live with Marc hating him, he told himself, so long as they all just lived.
But Steven's face twisted with anger. "No, mate, that's bloody not okay!" He was practically shaking with fury. "You don't know what I've been through! In the past four days, I've found out I have other personalities, have been hallucinating all my recent conversations with my Mum, I'm apparently married and halfway divorced, and somehow my alters are working for an Egyptian god as some sort of… violent superhuman vigilantes and a stupid little trinket is all that stands between this world and a bloody rampage of a crazy crocodile lady! All that, and I've been remarkably patient, haven't I, Jake?" He glared at Jake, daring him to contradict him.
Jake raised his hands in surrender. "Very patient," he confirmed.
"Exactly," Steven continued, turning back to Marc. "And I've been understanding. My life's been a lie, with huge gaps in my memory because apparently, you have been living most of it. But Jake told me you were unwell, and you needed our help, so I set aside everything to try and figure out what went wrong. I've listened to Khonshu. I get it, Marc—I do. I don't know why you wanted to exclude me so badly but I'm not some weakling, okay? I don't want to kill anyone, either, but if it's us or them, if they're out to kill innocents… then fine. If it helps Jake vent his anger or live out his savior complex, then let him do it. I don't care."
Jake flinched slightly but stayed silent, watching Steven warily.
"But I won't be lied to," Steven pressed on. "If I'm the only one here with a working moral compass, then I deserve to know what you two are doing and why—so I can stop you if you're going too far. Because obviously, you already have," he added, glaring at Jake. "So tell me, right now—what happened? Why did Harrow say you killed our brother?"
The last shred of color drained from Marc's face. Jake, too, felt his blood run cold as he caught Marc's horrified expression. He knew Marc wasn't ready to face this—wasn't sure if any of them were—but he scrambled to think of something, anything, to get Steven to back down before Marc got spooked back into unconsciousness, before they all had a collective mental breakdown because Steven had to go digging up old skeletons.
"Look," Jake said very carefully, "not every question has to be answered right now, Steven. Some things…" His jaw clenched as he glanced toward the windshield. "Some things are better left buried until we can actually deal with them. At least until the mission is over."
Steven crossed his arms, his glare unwavering. "You promised me answers, Jake."
Jake sighed, the exhale sharp with frustration. "You want an answer? Fine. How about this: we've got bigger problems right now than playing therapist. Layla's still out there, probably dodging Harrow's thugs on her own. She's got the scarab, which means the entire cult will be after her! And now we're here—stuck arguing in our own damn head while she's God knows where, risking her life. So maybe, Steven, instead of digging up the past, we focus on making sure we've got a future to deal with it."
Marc, who was still watching them warily, suddenly spoke up. "She's with me."
Steven's brow furrowed, and Jake leaned closer to the mirror. "What?" they both asked in unison.
"She's with me," Marc repeated, his voice softer this time. "We're holed up in a hut near the base of Mount Etna. She made it out. She's fine. We'll head up the mountain at first daylight to finish this thing."
The relief in the mindscape was palpable. Steven exhaled shakily, some of the anger draining from his face. Jake's tense posture slackened ever so slightly, though his eyes still burned with unease.
"Good," Jake muttered, though his tone was gruff. "Keep her safe. No screw-ups."
Marc's eyes narrowed, a suspicious edge creeping into his voice. "You know, I woke up to a helluva mess on that plane. Have you... trying to get it on with my wife!?"
Jake spluttered, his face reddening. "Only to wake you up, pendejo! You're the only one who knows how to fly a damn plane!"
"You goddamn bastard!" Marc's face twisted with fury, his knuckles white as he gripped the mirror, shaking it in his hand. "Stay away from her, you hear me? You keep your psycho hands off my wife!"
"What did you just call me!?" Jake shot back, his voice a dangerous growl. Below the anger though was relief – he much preferred fighting over a woman than fighting over… that. "You're the worst husband in history! If you'd spent even five minutes just talking to her, none of this would've happened! Layla is fucking Maestra de Kung Fu, I couldn't hurt her if I tried. You wanted to divorce her—a woman who stood by us through all of this madness! So, you tell me, hermano—who's the lunatic?"
Steven, who'd turned crimson, suddenly stepped in. "Alright, enough!" he snapped. "Good grief, you two are stubborn. Don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject! But fine. Fine. I'll give you one more day. We'll head up the mountain, get rid of the bloody scarab and then you'll tell me everything. Deal?"
Marc and Jake exchanged a look. Jake was trying to subtly shake his head but Marc, Marc sighed.
"Fine. After the mission, we'll talk."
That was not something Jake agreed to but it was enough for Steven, it seemed, who seemed mollified.
"Now can you two give me a recap of everything I missed so far? Layla only had half the picture", Marc asked, eager to change the subject. Jake was on board with that.
The ensuing conversation… wasn't exactly smooth. Steven described settling into life in London, only to have Jake suddenly intrude and shake everything up. He explained how they'd gotten to know each other. Jake admitted he'd had no clue Steven even existed until he woke up in London, then went on to explain how he'd found Marc's phone and storage unit, eventually contacting Layla to get some answers.
"Did you really divorce Layla just because she was asking questions about our family?" Steven asked incredulously.
Marc's face twisted in shock. "What? No! Why would you think that?"
"Layla," Jake said flatly. "Said it's what you two were arguing about before you disappeared off the face of the Earth."
Marc groaned, rubbing his temples. "No. That's… That wasn't it."
"But you did send her unsigned divorce papers?" Jake cut in. "Through the mail, Marc? Couldn't even do it in person?"
Marc stumbled over his words. "Did I… forget to sign them? I—I don't know, that's not the point here! Why am I suddenly on trial?"
"Yeah, doesn't feel so nice, huh?!" Jake shot back, glaring.
"I was trying to protect her from Khonshu!" Marc's voice was strained, defensive.
Steven blinked. "What's Khonshu got to do with it? I mean, he saved our life, didn't he? Gave us all these… superpowers."
Marc let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Steven, you don't get it. Khonshu's dangerous. Sure, he saved me that one time, but he's been owning me ever since. I hunt who he tells me to hunt, and I don't get a choice. I wanted to keep you and Layla away from that… away from the blood on my hands. I thought if I pushed her away, I could quit working for him, but he… he said if I left, he'd make Layla his next avatar. So, as long as she's with me, she's in constant danger."
Steven glanced at Jake, sharing a pointed look.
"Right," Steven said dryly, folding his arms. "Looks like Jake was spot-on about you."
Jake nodded, muttering with a hint of satisfaction, "Told ya, he's allergic to happiness."
Marc's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means Khonshu isn't the problem, mate," Steven replied, his tone serious. "You really think Layla would sign up to be his avatar, even if he offered? She wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole when that's what broke your marriage. And Khonshu can't force her into it—he can't force us to do anything we don't want to, either, can he?"
"Nope," Jake confirmed.
Marc's expression tightened, his voice low and haunted. "You're wrong. There've been… people… I didn't mean to kill them. But somehow, even when I tried to avoid it, they still ended up dead if Khonshu thought they deserved it."
"Err, actually, that was me", Jake admitted, raising a hand a bit sheepishly. "I made my own deal with Khonshu so that if he wanted someone dead, he'd come to me, not you. Figured it's better this way since, y'know, you can be such a pussy when it comes to dirty work."
Marc stared at Jake, his face a mix of betrayal and fury. "You did what?!"
Steven sighed, rubbing his temples. "Mate, Jake's been doing the vigilante thing since you bailed from the military. Khonshu just… makes him a bit more efficient, I s'pose."
Marc's eyes widened, incredulous. "And you're okay with that?"
Steven threw his hands up. "Well, no, I don't love it, but what am I supposed to do?! I barely have a say over who's in control from one morning to the next! Besides, Khonshu's the reason Jake's still kicking when he's getting shot at left and right, so losing him would be… well, bad!"
"Oh, and Steven's real chummy with Khonshu too," Jake piped up, eager to share the blame. Why should he be the only one getting shouted at. "They're practically best mates. Why, Steven even calls him 'Lord.'"
Steven shot Jake a furious glare. "Jake, whose side are you on?!"
"You started it!" Jake sniped back.
"What the hell?" Marc shouted, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Could you two stop bickering like children?"
Both Jake and Steven fell silent, though they scooted away from each other, arms crossed, each refusing to look in the other's direction.
Marc shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe this. I leave you alone for five minutes, and what do I come back to? My alters are fighting each other, about all the wrong things no less, and at the same time ganging up on me together with Khonshu."
Jake's expression shifted into indignation. "It wasn't five minutes though! It was a whole month! You left us alone for a whole month! Steven was fucking clueless, we're lucky he didn't just go home. If I hadn't woken up, Harrow might've gotten the scarab without anyone even knowing about it. We're not made for this, Marc! You're our primary, you're supposed to carry the body. We're just here to help!"
Stunned silence followed that statement. Marc looked furious, then scared. Steven groaned and buried his face in his hands and Marc looked at him as if he feared he was going to explode.
"What?" Jake asked, looking from one to the other, utterly baffled by their reactions. "What did I say?"
"Steven?" Marc made helplessly, pleadingly.
Steven pinched the bridge of his nose and waved his hand, exhaling with a weary sigh. "It's alright. I… I kinda suspected something, the way Jake would talk about you, Marc."
Jake's eyes flashed with confusion and anger. "What did I say?!"
"You idiot," Marc growled at him. "Steven didn't know!"
"Didn't know what?" Jake's frustration was evident. "That Marc's the primary? That's obvious!"
Steven's eyes narrowed as he looked between them. "It wasn't obvious to me, mate."
Jake sputtered. "But you had memory gaps spanning years!"
Steven threw his hands up. "I thought I just had a lousy memory, alright?! Turns out my superpower is that I'm really bloody brilliant at self-delusion!"
Marc winced, then lowered his gaze. "Steven… I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to find out like this." His voice was quiet, genuine regret written across his face.
"No… no, it's actually better this way," Steven said, taking a steadying breath. "You'd never have told me. And by the way, that's not okay—I don't appreciate it. But… at least Jake was there. He's… I dunno, he's like me, in a way. Didn't know much of anything either."
Marc shook his head. "No, Steven. You're nothing like Jake."
Steven met Marc's eyes, his voice calm but firm. "No, I am, Marc. I get angry too. I may swallow it down most times, but I know an injustice when I see it. And I think you do too. You wouldn't have kept working for Khonshu otherwise, no matter what he said to you." He paused, his gaze softening. "I just wish I'd known earlier. I was… I was so lonely, Marc. Jake had you, and you had me—even if none of us were really talking. But I had no one. I was lost, confused, needing help… and I felt all that for no reason, because I always had you both right there."
The air hung heavy, Marc's face twisting with pain and guilt. Jake, for once, was silent, watching Marc wrestle with the weight of Steven's words.
"I was just… trying to protect you, buddy," Marc finally murmured, his voice barely a whisper.
Jake's eyes softened as he looked at Marc. "That's our job, hermano," he said. "That's what we're here for."
"No," Steven interjected firmly, looking between them. "We all protect each other. That's how it has to be, yeah? Whatever… whatever broke us, it's in the past now. There's no need to hide things from each other anymore. We've got to figure this life out together. It's okay to take a rest if we need it, if we don't want to be there. But we need each other." He gave Marc a pointed look. "And we need to accept help when it's offered."
Marc's expression softened slightly, though he still threw a wary glance toward Jake. "I… alright. If you think it's best," he said slowly. He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "But—can I, uh… can I have a word with Jake alone?"
Steven's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Marc swallowed, lowering his voice. "I just… need to clear a few things up. What he remembers… what he's told you."
"There's no need to send him away for that," Jake cut in, taking Steven's side. "I've got a handle on all the childhood memories, was born with copies of yours I guess. Up 'til about high school, at least, that's when I became self-aware. I think Steven remembers high school too, at least partly, but after that… I started sleeping more. Only really woke up when things got hairy."
A muscle twitched in Marc's jaw, but he kept silent. Steven's voice dropped as he continued, almost as if he dreaded his own words. "Jake warned me that… well, that home wasn't safe. And Layla mentioned you never invited our parents to the wedding. Jake said even asking about them was enough to send you running, so…" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to go on. "…I figure either something terrible happened to them, or… or something happened to us. With them. That's… as far as we got. Jake wouldn't say more."
Marc clenched his teeth, his gaze flicking between them in a mix of anger and anguish.
"He needed to know, Marc," Jake said, unflinching. "I didn't tell him any details, but it's not safe for him to be in the dark."
"When all this is over, you're both telling me everything," Steven insisted, his tone unwavering. "If I can't trust my own memory, then how can I trust that either of you can? We need to… compare notes."
Jake cut in, folding his arms. "While we're at it, Marc, why'd you vanish for so long if it wasn't just you and Layla fighting?"
Marc's face hardened, and without another word, he closed the mirror, blocking them out.
"Oi!" Steven exclaimed, indignant as his view flicked to Marc's own line of sight, with no reflection of either of them. "Did he just hang up on us? How rude!"
"You do know we're still here, don't you?" Jake called out, mildly annoyed.
Marc's voice was tight, controlled. "This conversation's over," he muttered, rising to his feet and heading into a dark forest.
"I don't believe this guy," Steven muttered, shaking his head. "Seriously, after everything, it can't be that bad!"
Jake glanced at him thoughtfully. "Don't be so sure about that. Let's just… leave it alone for now."
Steven sighed. "If we shelve any more, the cupboard's going to overflow, isn't it?" But he held his tongue as Marc continued down a narrow path. A small wooden hut with no door and no glass in the windows came into view. To call it a hut was generous, it was really just a few benches with a roof overhead.
"Right, well," Jake said after a pause. "I'm going under. Wake me when we're in Egypt. Steven, wanna come with? I could show you the mindscape."
Steven's eyes widened in surprise. "We have a mindscape?!"
"Sure thing, hermanito," Jake agreed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Usually just me down there, so it'd be risky if you wandered off solo… but now that Marc's at the wheel, I can show you around without a hitch."
"Hey, you're not taking Steven anywhere dangerous!" Marc hissed.
Jake rolled his eyes. "It's a mindscape, Marc. I got this—I'll look after him."
"I said no!" Marc snapped.
Steven tilted his head. "Wait, Marc… have you even been down there?"
Marc hesitated. "I… no," he admitted, his tone softening. "Which is exactly why I don't want you going! We don't know what's in there, and I don't trust Jake to know what's safe and what isn't!"
"Oh, you just want first dibs, do ya?" Steven shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, too bad! I'm goin'. Lead on, Jake."
"Steven, wait!" Marc called, a mix of frustration and worry edging into his voice. But it was too late—Steven had already slipped into the backseat alongside Jake, and Marc's voice faded into a muffled echo.
XxX
AN: Poor Marc. This is the kind of story you can come back to later after finishing it to read it again, just to get all the subtext. But yeah, poor Marc. He's getting major flashbacks throughout this entire conversation that I sadly can only hint at while writing from Jake's POV.
In my opinion Marc himself probably wouldn't even have all that much of a problem with Jake's body count. If it were just the two of them he might shrug it off or perhaps even be genuinely thankful. But since Marc has a major guilt complex and is already struggling with fearing how Steven might react to the people Marc's killed, he now feels like he has to protect Steven from Jake, who is even worse than Marc. To now be confronted with Steven and Jake - not quite being friends, since they're arguing right now, but still obviously having grown closer is so confusing to Marc. Steven is upset about things Marc absolutely does not want to unpack but apparently fine with the killing thing that he always thought would be the most upsetting. Welcome, Marc, on the outside of the loop. Now you know what it feels like.