Chapter 6: Therapy
Layla was in New York.
And she'd brought a whole truckload of trouble with her.
"I can't believe he's doing that. Again!" you groaned and pinched bridge of your nose. "I thought we were past this!"
Jake, who had awakened when Marc's panic had started to go up into yellow levels, also looked worried.
"There's no way this will end well", he agreed with you.
You watched together as Layla took Marc by his hand, talking gently to him as she pulled him into the building.
They were going to see a psychiatrist.
Marriage counseling, Layla had said. If they were going to do this, if they wanted to repair their relationship with the added complication of Steven and his budding romance with May thrown into the mix, they were going to need some help.
You didn't think so. Neither did Jake. Even Marc didn't believe that was all there was to Layla's motives. She might know about his disorder but he had never told her any of the background about why he had it, or really any of his past before he'd come into her life. And Marc still had no intention to open up about that. She'd promised him he wouldn't have to talk about Steven at all if he didn't want to but how the hell were they even going to explain anything going on without mentioning him?
"What are you going to do?" Jake asked you, looking straight at you from his red-framed screen.
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. "I don't know! I can't take over when Layla's there, not for long anyway, one of them is going to notice!"
"They can't talk about the DID", Jake insisted. "The doc is going to make it a thing and they'll start digging and they'll discover us."
"I know that!" you exclaimed. This was horrible. You couldn't even use Steven to get out of the situation because the naive boy actually agreed that counseling was a great idea. For you though, the mere idea gave you flashbacks of the hospital. The drugs. The weeks spend stuck on the front, in isolation. Of laying restrained on some cot because Jake had broken someone's nose just for looking at him weird. No, you never wanted to go through that ever again.
Under Steven's and Layla's encouraging words, Marc entered the building.
The therapist's office was small and cozy, decorated with a minimalist style that managed to feel both professional and personal. Soft, warm lighting spilled from corner lamps, and the furniture was upholstered in calming earth tones. A few abstract paintings hung on the walls, the kind that neither Marc, Jake or you could make sense of, but Layla seemed to appreciate. The entire atmosphere here had you on edge. Everything was made in a way to make the victims relax but you saw right through it all.
You watched Marc from behind your screen, anxiously biting your fingernails. His body language was defensive, like he was ready for a fight even though this was the last place a fight should happen. (Unless Jake came out. You were tempted to make that happen.) His arms were crossed tightly, his shoulders stiff, and his gaze kept shifting, avoiding eye contact with both the therapist and Layla. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. You could practically feel the tension radiating off him.
Marc never liked being in the spotlight unless it was on his own terms. This? Therapy? Sitting in front of a stranger who was going to ask him about his feelings? Yeah, this was Marc's version of a nightmare. You were right on that same page with him.
Layla was sitting next to him, her posture relaxed on the surface, but you could see the small signs—her fingers nervously brushing against her jeans, the tightness around her mouth. She was holding herself together, but you knew she was also a bit anxious about this, just better at hiding it.
Served her right.
Dr. Evelyn Moore, the therapist, sat across from them in a comfy-looking chair. She looked professional, with her neatly tied-back hair, glasses perched on her nose, and a notebook ready in her lap. She gave off a calm, gentle vibe, which probably worked for most of her clients. But Marc wasn't most people.
You hated her at first sight.
"He's not gonna talk," you reassured yourself, already feeling the tension mounting. You glanced over to Jake's screen. "He's gonna shut down and push Steven forward. He hates this. Layla will just have to accept that."
Jake had adopted a similar position as Marc in the game, leaning back with his arms crossed. "Yeah," Jake agreed, his voice a low mutter. "He won't let this shrink dig too deep. Which is good for us, I guess."
Dr. Moore smiled politely, her pen poised over her notebook. "So, Marc, Layla, I'm really glad you both made the decision to come in today. Couples therapy can be an important step toward strengthening your relationship. Why don't you start by telling me a little bit about what brought you here?"
Layla shifted in her seat, glancing at Marc, who gave zero sign of wanting to make the first step, before turning to Dr. Moore. "Well… Marc and I have been through a lot together," she began, her voice steady but with a weight behind it.
"We love each other but we have some trouble...communicating. I… I often struggle to understand what he needs. There have been… secrets and distance and… I just can't get him to open up to me. We were this close to a divorce. Then I found out some of the secrets he kept from me and I understand him a bit better now. I want to make it work again."
Marc's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to his lap. Layla's words weren't terribly accusing but that was just a matter of time and Marc and you both knew it. Already that wall of his was going up, brick by brick.
"Told you," Jake muttered from the sidelines.
Dr. Moore nodded, her pen moving lightly over the paper. "Marc, do you have anything to add?"
There was a long pause, and you could almost feel Marc's resistance. Finally, he shook his head stiffly. "No, she summed it up pretty well." He swallowed thickly, meeting Layla's expectant gaze, before hurriedly looking away again. "I… I know I tend to… shut down when… When I have to talk about anything uncomfortable. I have… done some things, in the past, that I'm not proud of. That I was sure if Layla knew about, she'd leave. But she found out and she's still with me and… I'm glad. I want to be more open. I just… don't know how."
You leaned forward, watching closely, wishing Marc would just get out of there. You saw him glance towards the door, towards the windows, checking all available exits and cheered him on.
Layla glanced at him again, her face softening. "We've also been talking about… opening up our relationship. It's complicated, and… honestly, I'm struggling to accept it. I know Marc has certain… needs I can't fulfill. And that's fine. I just want him to be happy. Still, it's hard."
Marc's shoulders tensed again. He hated this. You could see it—he was barely keeping himself together, and all of this talk about emotions and openness was only making him more uncomfortable.
"This is bad," you said, watching as Marc's panic meter rise towards the red. "He's gonna shut down completely. He won't be able to help himself, he'll try to switch with someone."
Jake didn't say anything this time, just observed with a wary eye. He knew, just like you did, how thin the ice was beneath Marc's feet.
Dr. Moore sat forward slightly, pen hovering over her notepad. "Marc," she said gently, "can you tell me a little more about what you think about an open relationship?"
You saw Marc's eyes narrow slightly, his jaw clenching again as he searched for the right words. How would he even begin to explain why they'd decided to take such a complicated step without revealing everything?
You leaned in closer, watching him struggle, already knowing this was going to be a minefield. There was no easy way to explain Steven's relationship without actually mentioning Steven—and that was exactly what Marc was trying to avoid.
Marc cleared his throat, glancing briefly at Layla before looking back at Dr. Moore. "It's… It's not easy to explain," he began, voice low and uncertain. "I've always… had a lot going on in my head. A lot of… pressure. And Layla, she's been great through everything. Our marriage was… exciting. I'm not always the best husband, but she's been patient. I just…" He paused, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. "I suppose a part of me wants something different entirely. Something more… ordinary? I don't know. Layla is… special in the most amazing ways. But sometimes, that's not what I…" He stopped and rubbed his face, looking terribly guilty and shooting Lalya an apologetic look. Yet she only smiled and squeezed his hands. She understood that he wasn't truly talking about himself but about Steven.
Marc was doing his best to dance around the real issue, but you could see how much effort even that was costing him. He didn't want to explain Steven but claiming his alter's actions as his own just made him look like a cheating asshole.
Dr. Moore nodded, giving him space. "So, you feel like Layla cannot give you what you need in the relationship?"
"I – no!" Marc exclaimed. "That's not… Fuck. It's complicated. I love Layla. I just…" He swallowed thickly, hands sweaty, panic meter rising…
"I have this…. disorder", Marc said quietly.
Layla's eyes widened and Jake muttered "Mierda" and you said "Fuck it", and activated your VR glasses.
With a lurch you found yourself in the body, staring down at Marc's knees.
"A disorder?" Dr. Moore asked.
"Marc, you don't have to", Layla said quietly.
"Yeah and I don't want to", you snarled, shooting her a glare. You jumped to your feet then, intend to just get the fuck out of here…
You swayed. You head felt like it was filled with cotton and your sight started to blur and…
Fuck. Marc was fighting you. Marc was-
You slipped back automatically, suddenly filled with fear.
"Hermanito?" Jake asked worried. "What happened?"
WARNING your screen shouted at you in big, bold, red letters, almost obscuring the video feed.
You gaped at the monitor. "He… he fought me. Marc fought me!" That had never happened before. Marc never fought you, never, he couldn't, he mustn't because hiding the DID was only one of your jobs. Your eyes went over to the tally marks on your wall and you went white as a sheet.
Marc must not fight you.
But he had. He had and what if he'd noticed your presence and what if that made him fight harder-
"Shit", you cursed and started rapidly typing. "This can't happen – fuck! Did he notice the switch? Did he – shit, why did I stand up!?"
Marc blinked, confused to find himself suddenly standing, looking between Layla and Dr. Moore.
"Marc?" Layla asked carefully. "We can… We can stop if you want."
"Yes! Please stop!" you shouted at the screen. "Can't you see that he's not well!?"
But of course, neither of them could hear you.
"What is he doing!?" you exclaimed when Marc slowly sat down again. He took a few calming breaths, closing his eyes. Layla squeezed his hand in comfort. When he opened them again, his panic meter had lowered slightly.
"I have a Dissociative Identity Disorder", Marc said aloud.
And the game crashed.
"Wha-!?" you made, staring aghast at the desktop. All screens had gone black and a notification had popped up that was utterly unhelpful – An error has occurred.
Yes, you knew damn fucking well knew an error had occurred!
Panicked you started up the game again but it was loading and loading and LOADING WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG THIS STUPID GAME YOU MISSED IT ALL!
You gave your PC a good kick and you threw Khonshu at the screen and finally, finally you had an image again.
"...so it's not, it's not me", Marc was in the middle of explaining. "I love Layla and I don't want to be with anyone but her! But I also don't want to share her with Steven… So we made a compromise, that he… That he could also try on his own."
"David? David, what's going on?! You were gone for a second there, are you alright?!" Jake asked, his face super close to the camera.
Your heart was racing and your hands were probably as sweaty as Marc's and this was all terribly horrible and the game had crashed and-
"For a second there, I thought it was over", you whispered, still terrified. "He's not… He's not supposed to tell anyone, Jake! I'm supposed to stop that! But he… He won't let me. Why won't he let me help?"
"No, no, he needs your help!" Jake insisted. "It's one thing to tell her about Steven to explain what's going on between him and Layla. But she's… That Doctor is just a bloody marriage counselor, okay? She's not fit to give advice even if she wanted to on anything else. You have to shut her down, you have to tell her Steven can't be a subject of this."
"Right… Right", you made, trying to calm your racing heart as you watched Dr. Moore ask more probing questions about how Steven fit into their relationship with Layla doing most of the talking.
You activated your glasses again. Knowing you might only have seconds, you had to be very careful what you did or said.
"Enough!" you said strongly but not as aggressively as before. Your American accent was perfect, as was the pitch of your voice. "I'm not here to talk about Steven. We're fine, we're getting along and we're bonding and we're better. He's not a problem. He's just… a part of me that fills in some gaps. We have gotten pretty good at sharing our time so he's not going to interfere in my relationship with Layla. That's what we're here for, for our marriage. He doesn't have anything to do with it."
You gave Dr. Moore a hard stare, wishing her all the poisonous snakes and scorpions of the Sahara into her bed until, finally, she gave you a slow nod.
"Very well… I would like to recommend a specialist if you ever do change your mind and would like some help to… make your life smoother. But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Marc."
You kept up your stare defiantly before finally offering a curt nod. And then you sunk back, thanking Khosnhu (the only god who'd ever done anything for you) in your mind that Marc hadn't tried to fight or seemed to notice the shift this time. Layla looked at Marc warily but did not comment.
Dr. Moore gave them both a soft smile and decided to switch the topic. "Why don't we step back a bit," she said gently. "I'd like to hear about how you two met. What drew you to each other in the first place? Marc, can you tell me about how you and Layla fell in love?"
You watched as Marc blinked. It wasn't clear whether it was the question that threw him off or any leftover disorientation from the switch. You had been very careful but with how narrowly you'd avoided him discovering you just now, you couldn't be sure.
He looked at Layla, and for the first time in the session, his expression softened. This was easier ground for him, something he could talk about without feeling like the walls were closing in.
Marc cleared his throat, leaning back slightly in his chair. "We met in Egypt," he began, his voice quieter now, more reflective. "I was… working security at the time, doing some freelance stuff. Layla was into buying and selling art. We… got caught up in this case of art smuggling."
You leaned forward a bit, curious. That was a time completely missing from the game and Jake hadn't described it in much detail, having rarely fronted himself. It was also rare to see Marc look back at something with something other than regret or guilt.
"She was fierce," Marc continued, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Confident. She knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. And I don't know… I think that's what drew me to her. It felt like…" He trailed off for a second, as if searching for the right words. "Like a chance to leave everything behind."
Dr. Moore leaned in slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. "What did you want to leave behind?"
Marc rubbed his face, grimacing.
"I was in the military," he said shortly, the word clipped. "It was a violent time. Did some things I'm not proud of. That I wanted to forget about. Sometimes… I needed Steven to forget. Even if that got me into trouble. After I met Layla… Steven didn't come out on his own for years. Sometimes I pushed him so he could go look around sights in cities I visited or something… But he didn't know, back then, that I even existed so I had to be careful. It was always very controlled though. Being with Layla made me feel more in control. Before that…" That guarded look snapped back into place. He didn't elaborate, and you could tell he wasn't about to. He never did. The military was the line he always drew when it came to discussing his past. Everything before that was a total mess he wouldn't touch with a six feet pole.
"Thank you for sharing that with us", Dr. Moore said gently. She shifted her attention to Layla. "And you, Layla? What was it that made you fall in love with Marc?"
You watched Layla, sensing her hesitation as she glanced briefly at Marc before turning her eyes to the therapist. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and it was clear she had a very different answer from Marc.
"When I first met Marc," she began slowly, carefully choosing her words, "my father had just died. He was an archaeologist, and Marc had been part of the security team for the dig."
Marc's posture stiffened instantly. You could feel the tension rise in the room as Layla continued.
"I didn't know how my father had died. Not back then, at least." She paused, her voice becoming a little tighter. "I had no idea Marc was even connected to it. It wasn't his fault," she added, looking at Dr. Moore as if to clarify. "I don't blame him for that. My father was killed, and Marc almost died trying to save him."
You watched Marc's expression as she spoke. He was clearly uncomfortable, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands clenched into tight fists on his lap. He hated talking about this. You knew that much. The guilt of her father's death had been eating at him for years.
Layla's voice softened, but there was an edge of hurt behind her words. "But Marc never told me. Not for years. I only found out later… much later, that the reason he first approached me was out of guilt." She looked at him then, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and anger. "He didn't approach me because he wanted to. He did it because he felt like he had to."
Dr. Moore raised an eyebrow, scribbling something in her notes before asking, "How did that make you feel, Layla?"
Layla let out a small, bitter laugh. "How do you think? It hurt. I had fallen in love with him because… he was mysterious, daring, different. I thought he needed me, and that made me feel validated in a way." She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "But the truth was, he never really let me in. Even when I thought I was helping him, when I thought he was opening up, he was still pushing me away when it really mattered. Or he would just… vanish. And I understand, I do, that it's not his fault. If he switched to Steven suddenly because he can't control it, because he just needs that… I'd get it if it was to deal with specific situations. If he'd just talk to me after, when he's feeling better. But he doesn't."
Marc shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking as if he wanted to sink into the floor. His panic meter was dangerously high and it itched you to step in. You had to actually grab your own wrist to hold it down when you noticed your hand reaching up to your VR glasses. Snapping at the doctor wouldn't help here and you didn't quite feel capable of doing anything else right then.
The therapist leaned in slightly, her voice gentle. "Marc, is there something you would like to reply to that?"
Marc didn't respond right away. His jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict playing out in his mind. He was caught, unable to retreat into his usual defenses.
After a long pause, Marc finally spoke, his voice rough. "I didn't mean to hurt her. I thought… I thought keeping things to myself was the right thing to do. To protect her from all the crap that came with me."
You watched as Layla's expression softened just a bit, though there was still hurt in her eyes. She shook her head slowly. "Marc, I didn't need protecting. I needed honesty."
There was a heavy silence in the room, the weight of unspoken words lingering between them.
Dr. Moore leaned back in her chair, taking a moment to let think over their words. "I'd like to understand more about your decision to stay together. Why have you chosen not to divorce? What made you both want to try again?"
Layla looked at Marc, her expression softening as she began to speak. "One day I suddenly found those divorce papers in my mail, without even a proper conversation to go with it. I didn't think he was serious. I actually thought it was a scam or an enemy trying to trick us or something. Marc was gone for months and I was really just worried for him. Then I met Steven. And suddenly a lot about Marc that had baffled me before made sense to me. Especially the subjects he wouldn't talk about. I understood that I'd just pushed him too hard. I was trying to talk about things I thought were very simple – why he wouldn't invite his parents to our wedding, where was he going off to at night, the nightmares he kept having. I wanted to offer my help but I had no idea these weren't simple things to talk about at all. It was all connected to this huge secret. But the secret was not terrible or in any way proof that he didn't care about me, like I'd feared. It was just… a very confused, very adorable, strangely British version of him. That's… That's really not anything I can't handle. And I thought… Now that I know, maybe now I can finally help, you know?"
Marc relaxed the tiniest bit, giving Layla a forced smile and squeezing back her hand when she squeezed his.
"I had some enemies," he said, his voice low and clipped. "I thought if I divorced Layla, it would keep her safe. I didn't want her to be connected to me and put in danger." His gaze flickered to Layla, and you could sense the deep-rooted concern he held for her. "But I managed to deal with that threat. When Layla wanted to give it another chance, I was happy about it. More than happy. I… I don't deserve her and I don't…. understand how she can put up with me. But I'm very glad that she does."
Dr. Moore nodded thoughtfully, her pen poised over her notepad again. "I believe her knowing and accepting this side of yours is a very big step in the right direction. Layla has obviously helped you in the past already, without even trying but you have to understand it will be even better if you let her. If you are used to relying on… on Steven for emotional support, it might be easier for you to talk to him than to her. That is alright. If there are any difficult conversations to have, you may consider letting him help you navigate them."
Marc tensed a bit. "I told you, I don't want Steven to have any part in my relationship."
Dr. Moore nodded. "And that is understandable. But just because he will not be with Layla like you are, doesn't mean they have to be strangers. They can still become friends, isn't that right? Or are you concerned that Steven, despite having a girlfriend of his own, would still want to take Layla from you?"
Layla made a little snort and even Marc had do admit: "No, he… He wouldn't do that."
Dr. Moore tapped her pen on her notebook. "There is of course one matter where it could become difficult to separate your lifes. You two have been married for two years, as I understand. Have you given any thought to the matter children? Has Steven? How do you envision your future looking if you and your alter have two different families?"
You felt the tension in the room shift dramatically as Marc's face paled, his panic level rising further. "I definitely do not want children," he blurted out, his voice rising slightly.
Layla's expression changed, hurt flashing across her features. "That… is not something we have talked about," she said, her voice cracking. "It didn't fit into our life before but I have sometimes thought… Marc, why wouldn't you want to have children with me?"
Marc's breathing quickened, and you could see him retreating into himself, his mind racing. "I would be a terrible father," he stammered, his hands trembling slightly. "I can't—"
The panic meter was triggering the alarm now, a loud beeping noise sounding all throughout your room and you readied yourself to step in. The alarm only ever rung in two cases, when Marc was spiralling so hard he was about to do something stupid or, like in that one very memorable episode, when his he panicked so much he broke his own psyche and opened up the field for a new player. However, before you could push the button on your glasses and step in yourself, Marc (or his subconsciousness?) initiated a switch himself.
Steven emerged, blinking sleepily. Marc had refused his help when he'd agreed to go to this session so he'd been asleep the whole time. But he was dealing with the situation like a champ. Steven took one look at Dr. Moore, at the room at large and at Layla and understood immediately what was going on.
"I'm sorry, where were we?" he asked with an awkward smile, trying (and failing terribly) to imitate Marc's way of speech.
Layla smiled pityingly at him. She'd obviously noticed the shift. "That's enough for this session. We should leave," she declared, standing up. "Come on, Steven."
Steven's eyes widened a bit when she addressed him with his name. "Uh…. Is everything alright?"
"Yes, everything is fine. Great actually, Marc has… shared a lot today. It was a lot. But we'll be fine." She slipped her hand from Steven's and thanked Dr. Moore for her help.
"You don't have to leave", she said. "We still have fifteen minutes left."
"I don't mind staying either", Steven offered. "I mean, if Marc's let the cat outta the bag, might as well, right?"
Layla drew a shuddering breath. "Thanks but… I'd really like to go. I just…. It was a lot."
"Oh. Oh! Of course, so sorry, you want to – we'll go then", Steven said, hurriedly standing up when he realized Layla was asking for a break for herself, not for his sake.
"I look forward to seeing you again next week", Dr. Moore offered, shaking Steven's hand, taking her leave from him and Layla. You and Jake both watched as they wrapped up everything, getting ready to leave.
"Well", Jake made," that was a disaster."
You pinched the bridge of your nose and gave as shuddering sigh. It hadn't been as horrible as you'd feared once Marc revealed the truth but it certainly hadn't been easy either.
"She's going to make it a thing", you groaned. "If she's already asking for Steven to play wingman for Marc for all the emo stuff, they're definitely going to make it a thing in those sessions! They'll talk about sharing time and working together and switching and blackouts and they'll be after us!"
"So… We're screwed?" Jake asked uncertainly.
You started banging your head against your tabletop.
"Yes, Jake", you sighed. "We're screwed."
XxX
AN: Poor David. He's having a minor mental breakdown on the inside and Marc doesn't even notice.
Next up: Moon Knight has another run-in with Spider-Man and Things Go Very Wrong.
Please comment and let me know if you like it!