"Did you ever find out what's in the attic?" Samson asked.

Steven grimaced. "Yeah. But I don't want to talk about that. That… That's not my pain. That's not why I'm here."

XxX

Chapter 13 - Marc's secret

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Jake challenged Steven with narrowed eyes.

Steven regarded the rook in his hand, then gazed at the chess board in front of him. "Wait… What's that castle doing over there? Was that there before?" he asked with a scowl.

Jake chuckled. "See, that's the problem with playing chess in a mindscape." He waved his hand over the board. "Both players have to remember the position of every piece at every moment in time. The second one of us forgets where a piece is, it's not there anymore – or it'll be somewhere else."

"Ugh", Steven made and placed his rook down. "Are you telling me we're not smart enough for chess?"

"Have you heard of those genius chess players that'll play completely without a board, just throwing positions at each other?" Jake asked. "Unless you're at that level – yeah, no, this won't work."

Steven grumbled unhappily. They were sitting at one of the small round tables in the atrium. It had been Steven's idea to play some games to make the time go by faster but that was easier said then done.

"I suppose card games are out too?" Steven asked.

"We have no way to truly randomize the order of a drawn card", Jake confirmed. "Tick, tack, tock should work, or minefield."

Steven thought a moment, then walked over to one of the display cases, rummaging in the cupboard underneath. He came back with a box and opened it to reveal a set of Battleships.

"Ohh, that's a good idea", Jake made and watched as Steven set everything up.

"You think you can remember all your positions?" Steven challenged him.

"That won't be a problem. But remembering every position we've checked already where there's no ship? Now that's what I call brain calisthenics."

Jake and Steven set up their battleships and started to play. Jake won the first two games but Steven sunk all of Jake's ships on the third, mocking Jake's beginner's luck as he went. Halfway through the fourth game though, he started to grimace and scowl and repeatedly tap his hand on the table.

"Good grief", he said at last. "What is that noise?"
"Noise?" Jake asked, looking at him worried. "B6. Everything alright?"
"Miss. Don't you hear that?" Steven asked and pointed toward a snack machine at the wall to their right. "I8."

Jake strained his ears. "It's… humming?" he asked. There was a very faint electrical hum coming from the machine. "I8 is a miss."

"Humming?" Steven scoffed. "It sounds more like… Like someone singing really off tune." He strained a bit, then scowled. "Almost sounds like someone is saying my name."

"Marc is trying to get your attention", Jake surmised. "What about A2?"

"Miss. You think so? But the lights went on, like, ten minutes ago. Marc can't have completed the mission yet, he'll have just woken up. Why'd he call me now? D4."

Jake shrugged. "Miss. You should go talk to him. Find out what he wants. A3."

Steven stared at his board. "Damn. Hit. You got my-" Steven's battleship exploded in his face, a miniature cloud of smoke enveloping his face.

Jake laughed out loud, pointing at Steven – except Steven was no longer there. Instead there was loud clashing and clanging noises in the distance. Jake rose to his feet and saw another, much angrier version of himself stumble out of a wall cupboard that definitely had not been there before.

"Seriously, Marc?" Jake glared at him when his alter started to look around frantically, his eyes wild but passing over Jake as if he wasn't even there.

"Where's Steven!?" he demanded to know.

"You just sent him up", Jake told him with a scowl. "We were in the middle of a game too. What's so fucking important?"

Marc looked around warily, as if he expected the surrounding statues to come to life and attack him. "What is this place?"
"The hall of knowledge. It holds Steven's nerd stuff", Jake said bored. "What are you doing here? How did you even find your way here?"

"Wasn't that hard to figure out once I knew this place existed", Marc snapped.

"Meaning you spend the entire night trying to get in, didn't you?" Jake smirked. "That explains why it went dark so late. Were you lonely without us?"
Marc was right in front of the table Jake was sitting at with three long steps, slamming his hands on the tabletop. "What have you been showing him, Jake?!"

"Calm your horses, amigo", Jake made and held up his hands in surrender. "There isn't much I can show him. I can only open the doors to memories that I lived myself or was aware during. Your dirty little secrets are quite safe." He motioned around him casually. "A couple of rooms are open for public use, like this one. They're knowledge, instinct or habit based, not memory based. So I showed him all of those – except for the closet holding our skeletons and the attic where the nightmares live. I made sure he knows to avoid those."

"And he listened to you?!" Marc made incredulously. "You never should've showed him this place! What if he goes snooping around on his own when we're gone!?"

Jake glared at him a bit, crossing his arms in front of him. "The dangerous parts are all locked up. Even I can't get into where I'm not supposed to. I wouldn't have brought him here if I wasn't sure it was safe. I'm not stupid, Marc. I'm not going to traumatize our emotional protector. It might come as a surprise to you but not everything down here is horrible. We had fun together. We were… bonding."

"Oh sorry if I don't trust your idea of fun to be anything safe!" Marc snapped.

Jake rolled his eyes. "Steven isn't a child, Marc. You're coddling him too much. Why do you worry so much about him anyway? You know he's here to help you, not the other way around, don't you?"

Marc got right into Jake's face, eyes blazing with fury. "Steven was supposed to stay out of all of this! He was supposed to be the normal one, the one part of us that wasn't messed up! You're destroying all of that by dragging him into this!"

"I'm not dragging him into anything!" Jake protested hotly. "I stumbled over him by accident! He wanted to find out what you were doing, he wanted to get to know Layla, he wanted to be a part of Moon Knight and he wanted to help stop Ammit! I didn't force him to do any of that."

"You told him about home!" Marc snarled. "You - You told Steven what happened there! He was happy the way he was! He had parents that loved him and you... You took that away from him!" Marc accused him.

Now Jake too jumped to his feet, slamming his own hands on the tabletop.

"Eso no es cierto, Marc! None of what you just said is true." He raised his fist, counting off the facts by lifting his fingers one by one. "One, I didn't tell him anything. I only warned him to stay away and he figured it out from there because he's not fucking stupid. Two, he wasn't happy. When's the last time you actually watched him, huh? He said so himself, he was lonely. He fucking cried the first time I showed him kindness because he wasn't used to that! Three, he never had parents that loved him. A delusion can't replace the real thing. Steven exchanged a lie for the truth and a fake family for a real one. If you look at him, if you really look at him now and if you know what he was like before, you'll see that he's better off for it! He had nobody before I came along. Now he has us and Layla and you can't tell me that isn't better!"

"You... You had no right to tell him all that", Marc said tightly, though he'd lost some of his momentum. "You weren't there you... You hid from me for years!"

"Like you hid from Steven?" Jake challenged him.

Marc's shoulders dropped. A tense silence settled over them as he struggled for words. His eyes wandered over Jake's form as if trying to find some fault with him that way. But in the end, he lowered his eyes, defeated.

"I... I don't get it. Why? I know why I wanted to protect Steven. But you're not doing the same. You're going behind my back - conspiring with Khonshu - leaving me to wake up among corpses and now you've brought Steven up against me. Do you hate me? Is that it?"

"Fucking - Spector! — you really have no idea!" Jake exclaimed frustrated. "I didn't hide from you. What, you think I sneaked out of your window in the middle of the night to go be a serial killer or something? No! I don't have that much control. I just wake up what feels like every five minutes, getting shot at or beaten up or stabbed. Every time I get ripped out of this place, I have to fight for my life. And afterward I'm fucking tired and I just want to go to sleep - so sorry if I didn't leave you any notes or whatever. This whole voice in your head and mirror talk and all, that's recent. I didn't know how to talk to you before. I tried, when I could sometimes watch you but you didn't hear me. I wasn't trying to be subtle. If you really have to know, I thought you did know about me. I thought we were partners. I thought you were my hermano! But you didn't even fucking notice I was there till I all but dragged you out by the hair." The bitterness was obvious in his tone now. Jake let himself fall back into his chair, drawing a hand through his hair and cursing quietly. He was hurt more than he wanted to admit by Marc's anger. All he ever wanted was to help. To do the right thing. They just... had different ideas what the right thing was.

After a while, Marc pulled out a chair for himself and settled down. He looked... conflicted.

"I... I did notice", he offered at last. "I wasn't sure... But there were often blackouts that I couldn't imagine Steven to be the reason for, back in the days. I thought... I thought maybe I was just forgetting things. Nobody mentioned me acting different during that time or using a different name, like it was with him. But of course... I didn't exclude the possibility that there was... someone else." Marc looked directly at him now. "Mar De Plata... That was you, wasn't it?"

"... Sí", Jake confirmed. Marc waited for him to elaborate but Jake really didn't feel like it and remained stubbornly silent.

"Did... Did the girls make it out?" Marc asked quietly.

Jake's gaze darkened. "Sí. I brought them home myself. The others though... They did not make it out. Made sure of that."

"First time?" Marc asked shakily.

Jake only gave him a curt nod. "Aside from..." He looked away, trailing off.

"You don't have to say it", Marc said quickly. "Don't... Don't say it. Harrow's an asshole, he... He tried to hurt us. Divide us."

Jake snorted. "Well, it worked." He couldn't deny the feeling of relief when Marc didn't push further on that subject though.

They were quiet for a moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. Finally Marc spoke up again.

"I thought you were gone, after I met Khonshu. I thought... That whatever made me react that violently was better, after I got an outlet for it."

Jake shrugged. "I mean... Technically, it was. I've never been co-conscious that much in my life. Even if it was just the nights. Sometimes I stayed up longer, worked an extra job or two... But, Marc... You have to understand that I'm not doing it because I like hurting others. I'm not doing it because I'm angry. I mean - I often am angry, sí, but it's not just about punishing people. It's about making sure there are less predators out there. Every monster I take out is a monster less prowling the streets for its next fix. You were doing better. We were doing better. And that's why... I could go from just fighting for our own life to fighting for others. I don't understand why you'd want to give that up, Marc."

Marc drew a shuddering breath. "You don't... You don't know Khonshu, Jake. He's using us. I feel... used, when he makes me do those things. And you playing along makes it worse because now he's using my own mind against me. Can't you see how wrong that is?"

Jake looked at him skeptically. "I do know Khonshu, Marc. I spend a lot more time with him than you know. I spend a lot of time aware, watching you with him too. He may be a harsh Master and he may loose his patience sometimes when things don't go as he wants. But I think, in his own way, he really does care about us. May even likes us. And yeah, he always wanted all of us in on the deal, even Steven. Still, when Steven wanted in he said no. Why? Because he gave his word to you that he'd keep him out of it. Steven had to convince him."

Marc's face twisted in pain and confusion. "But... Why? Why would he want that? Steven can't hurt a fly."

"And he's not going to have to", Jake said. "Khonshu does apparently more than just weed out bad guys. I didn't know... But Steven figured it out, like, in a heartbeat. Khonshu's a god of healing. And he can give us the power to heal people. That's what he gave Steven. And it works, he's already saved Layla when she got shot on the plane."

Marc's eyes widened. "Layla got shot?! She – she didn't say anything about that!"

Jake nodded seriously. "It all went so fast. I... I would've freaked, probably, if I'd been out, just focused on the danger. But not Steven. He worked with Khonshu to save her. Now she doesn't even have a scar thanks to freaky Egyptian magic bandages. Steven has a place in our life, Marc, and he wants to fill that place. Not just live at the edges of yours."

"I just... don't want anyone to hurt him", Marc said quietly.

"Pain is a part of life. You can't protect him from all of that. Some but not all", Jake returned. "Just... Let him spread his own wings."

Jake regarded his alter as conflicted emotions flickered over his face. He didn't understand why Marc didn't get along better with Khonshu. It was true that the god was perhaps a bit harsher with him than he was with Jake, who wasn't shy to argue back, or with Steven, who paid him some proper respect and was treated more like a student than a servant in return. But sometimes Jake had the impression that Marc liked to be ordered around. He certainly never questioned it. He may... may maybe even like to be used, though he was far from admitting it. Khonshu could sense that, could sense that's what he needed to do to get him to do his job. It was disturbing for Jake for the implications of what that said about them as a person. If Marc was feeling abused, why didn't he fight back? Why did he never fight back? Why was that always Jake's job?

"If... If you really don't want to be his avatar anymore, you can quit it", Jake offered, through it was a struggle to get the words out. He didn't want to quit. "If you truly hate it, you can sit it out. Steven and I will try alone for a while. We'd miss you but we'd try. And if that also doesn't work... We'll find something else to do."

"No!" Marc said immediately. "I... I don't want you two to go off alone!"

Jake scowled. "We can take care of ourselves. We managed it fine so far-"
"You killed the flight staff on a plane you were on!" Marc said incredulously. "If it weren't for me, hundreds of people would've died! You put Layla in danger. She could've been captured or worse, killed and I might not have even known about it!"
"We would've saved her", Jake snapped. "If it had been one of us, we would've saved her. It's because you weren't talking to us that you had no idea what was going on."
"I didn't want to be there, in that village!" Marc said hotly. "I wouldn't have been there if either of you were. But you were gone and I got pushed up and that's not my bloody fault!"

Jake flinched a bit because that was true. Jake had been thrown by Harrow's words and Steven had been confused and angry. If their dynamic hadn't been so damaged, they might've been able to save the situation.

Marc calmed a bit and continued: "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Everything would've gone smoother if we were all working together. Steven was right. We... We shouldn't hide from each other anymore. But things like that, they happen during missions. I'm used to it. Steven isn't. And you're... You're both on very different parts of the spectrum, you see that, don't you? You need me in the middle."

"Of course we bloody need you", Jake snapped. "That's not in question. But we need you to be alright more than we need you to pull our ass out of trouble."

Marc looked taken aback. "I am alright", he said automatically.

"Yeah, right", Jake scoffed. "Then why did you bail on us for weeks without end?"

Marc opened his mouth, staring at him but no words came out.

"Dammit, hermano. You can tell me. I get not telling Steven but you can tell me", Jake urged him. When Marc still wouldn't speak, Jake started listing off possible causes: "Did you kill someone? By accident, someone innocent?"

"Wha-no!"
"Did you cheat on Layla?"
"Of course not!"
"Did she cheat on you?"

"What the - no! It had nothing to do with her!" Marc exclaimed angrily.

"Then did you mess up a mission? Let a lot of people die?"

"Dammit, Jake! It was Mom, okay!" Marc burst out.

Jake looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Mom?"

Marc drew a hand through his hair, cursing quietly. "She... She was sick. For a whole while. Dad called... wanted me to come see her, before she... But I couldn't. I didn't. And she... she died. She's dead."

"...So?" Jake made. "That's fucking great news!"

Marc gave him a withering glare. "It's not that damn simple."

"It really fucking is!" Jake disagreed. "She was dead to us for decades. Who gives a fuck if she's finally sleeping with the worms, God knows it's the company she deserves-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Marc snarled. "She... She wasn't a good mother but she was our mother. I... I should've gone. I should've at least gone to the shiva, for Dad if nothing else. I was there already but I couldn't-"
"What did you just say?" Jake snarled, seething. Anger was boiling hot like lava in him. "You... You went to her shiva? You went to see - are you fucking nuts, Marc!?"

"What?" Marc made, startled at Jake's outburst.

"Please tell me you didn't enter the house", Jake stressed, glaring intensely at Marc. "Tell me you weren't stupid enough to talk to anyone!"

"I... I didn't... Steven took over before I could", Marc said slightly confused.

"Thank God", Jake made, sagging in relief. "Remind me to buy him a big fucking ice cream or something." Jake hid his face in his arms for a moment, slumped over the table, breathing deep and trying to calm his racing heart. He shivered at the mere thought of how close they'd come...!

"... You're scared of her", Marc realized, eyes wide, looking at him.

Jake shifted his head just enough to be able to glare at Marc over his arms.

"I'm not", he denied. "I fucking hate her is what I do but I'm not scared!"

"Aren't you?" Marc asked doubtful. "You have the same memories as me of that time." Quietly he added: "And I know I was scared."

Jake's jaw clenched. He didn't need to hear this. He didn't need the pity in Marc's eyes, didn't need the sympathy in his tone.

"Yeah, well, I'm not you, am I?" he snapped. He felt the fire rising, the old, familiar heat he'd relied on for years to block out all the rest. "I don't just lie down and take a beating, I fucking fight back! You do realize that's why it stopped, don't you? You do realize I made them stop."

For a moment, Marc just stared at him, shock spreading across his face. "W-What?" he stammered. "What do you mean?"

"When we were fourteen. That's when I came to the party. And I made them stop!" Jake hissed, each word dripping with contempt.

The look on Marc's face was one Jake hadn't expected, hadn't thought he'd need to brace for. Confusion. Hurt. Like he was just now piecing it together. And it cut deep, deeper than any other reaction would have.

Marc shook his head slowly. "No, I... I didn't know that."

The resentment flared up sharp, biting in Jake's chest. He didn't even know. It wasn't like he'd expected gratitude, not really. But for Marc to be sitting there now, realizing it for the first time—God, that hurt in ways Jake hadn't been prepared for.

He dropped his head back down on his arms, turning his face away. "Well," he muttered, low and bitter, "you're welcome."

There was a silence, and for a second Jake thought Marc had finally backed off. Then he felt a slight, awkward touch on his shoulder. Marc's fingers, reaching out to him in what must have been an attempt at comfort, or something close to it. But Jake's anger still burned white-hot, a shield he held onto tight, unwilling to let Marc see anything else.

He jerked his shoulder away, slapping Marc's hand down with a glare. "Don't touch me," he snarled, pulling back as far as the space allowed. The anger was a comfort, a barrier between him and the alternative, a dark place he refused to go to.

Marc's hand fell back to his side, and regret flickered across his face, a look Jake hated seeing in him. "I'm sorry," Marc said softly, his gaze dropping. "For… for shouting at you. For blaming you. I'll try… try to be more understanding."

Jake wanted to balk at that, wanted to protest he didn't need any fucking understanding or comfort or rainbows and butterflies and shit. But he just grunted and turned away because a part of him knew that would be a lie.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Jake stayed turned away, his shoulders taut, keeping his expression hidden. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear from Marc—hell, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear anything. But Marc lingered, his brow knitted, his mouth set in that pained, conflicted expression. He looked like he wanted to say a hundred different things but didn't know how to start.

After another moment, Marc let out a heavy breath. "Look, I don't… I don't really get what you do, when you're out there. The decisions you've made." He hesitated, shaking his head a little. "But I… I get where you're coming from. And I'm starting to get that... you deserve to make those decisions. You deserve your time up there. If nothing else… for what you did for us."

Jake blinked, surprised by that. He'd half expected Marc to tell him to stop it, to stop defending them because he wanted to do everything on his own. This… This wasn't really gratitude but it sounded like it might be acceptance. It was a start and he felt himself ease up a little.

"Well," he said, voice gruff, "nice to hear you finally figured that out." He smirked, but there was no real bite in it, then stood up from his chair. "But look, Steven's still up there, drivin' all by himself. Waking up alongside your wife. Who he totally kissed, by the way, I'm not the only one – so you might want to do something about that."

Marc gaped. "Steven did what?!"

Jake grinned a bit. "They had the cutest little date. Steven's so much more romantic than you – you ought to keep a look out for your cariño or she might exchange you for a sweeter chico."

Marc nearly stabbed Jake's chest with his finger.

"You're an asshole, Lockley!"
He shrugged unapologetically. "Yeah well, I got that from you – together with your taste in mujer. So you better go up there and-"

Suddenly one of the lamps hanging from the ceiling exploded. Jake looked up just in time to see the lamp shade come careening down towards him. Everything around him went suddenly dark.

And then he was up front, pain exploding from his right leg and his chest. He rolled aside instinctively, avoiding three more bullets hitting the ground where he'd just been.

Dammit. Why couldn't he go back to waking up in actual beds with a beautiful woman next to him? Why did it always have to be bullets and knifes?

Jake summoned the suit, bandages wrapping all around him and drew his two white hand guns.

Whatever. Carnage was as good a way to start the day as any too.