Chapter Text
Once he hung up with his dad, Marc laid back down, emotionally drained from the revelations that had been thrown at him. He did not think things could get this bad after enjoying a small period of quiet. Days ago, he had been in bed with Layla, cuddling against the warmth of her body and kissing the patches of skin that weren't covered.
Now he was in the guest bedroom of a woman he hadn't seen in forever, constantly waking up drenched in blood and emotionally exhausted from all this back and forth between him, Steven and Jake. Still being tethered to Khonshu was also taking a toll on him. Believing he was free had only been an illusion while he was still using them like pawns for his games.
There was a knock on the door a few minutes after and Layla peaked her head through the door. She was in sweats, her hair loose around her face.
“Hey, I heard you talking. Are you okay?”
“I don't feel like I'm dying anymore, so I've got that going for me.” Marc said jokingly even though it came out a bit bitter.
“How's Steven?” She wondered as she sat down on the bed next to him.
“Shaken up but he's fine.”
“That's good,” she said softly before avoiding his gaze entirely. Marc knew that look. It was the face she made when she was holding something back.
“Layla. Baby, what is it?” He used one of his hands to gently force her to turn her face to look at him.
“I know you can't help it but it really scared me this time. You disappearing with all the shit happening with Ammit. And I know Jake is out of your control – I've seen how he does things in Cairo – but you need to get him to come to an understanding with the both of you. I can't handle seeing you gone without a trace.”
Marc brought her closer to him, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her tightly. She returned the gesture in a crushing bear hug that made him wince because of his sore muscles and the wound on his shoulder.
“I know, I'm sorry. Steven got him to talk to him a little and we finally understood how he emerged for the first time.”
“What? How?”
“I called my dad. Apparently I almost died when I was nearly eight. I spent three days trapped in a well with the dead body of my best friend. We think Jake took care of it and made sure we didn't die.”
“And you didn't know he was there?”
“No. We think he mainly comes out when things are about to go to shit real bad.”
“Except when he tried to get a date with my co-worker,” mentioned Steven as an after thought.
“Maybe we shouldn't mention that,” replied Marc out loud, without realizing it, which made Steven chuckle.
“Mention what?” she asked quickly, making Marc groan at his own stupidity.
“Jake may have been trying to get a few dates in between the switches.”
“He what?!” she exclaimed loudly, making Marc recoil to avoid the pounding headache already threatening to bother him
“Did you have to mention that to her, asshole?” Jake interjected, surprising both Steven and Marc. He startled back, clearly surprised to hear him address them on his own.
“You tried to get some when I'm married, what do you think, motherfucker?”
“Can both of you stop arguing?” Steven complained loud enough for them to shut up.
Layla was watching the internal confrontation unfold in front of her. Her hands cupped her husband's cheeks, getting him to focus on her rather than losing himself in his head. She noticed a second later that something was wrong.
Marc's eyes were stuck on an invisible element on the wall and his body was tensed. She called his name once more, using her most calming and soothing voice. It was barely a whisper.
“Marc,” she called. She felt his jaw tighten under her palms, making the muscles in his jaw more prominent. He turned his head menacingly at her, his eyes hardening at her proximity.
She barely had the time to react before his hands wrapped around her wrists, pushing her hands away from his face. Layla stumbled back with a gasp but unable to go very far, trapped in his grasp.
“You're not Marc,” she stated. She realized it sounded like a question but the man in front of her tilted his head to the side, frowning before looking at her hands like they somehow had offended him.
“I don't like being touched without consent,” he said with a thick Spanish accent. Layla pulled on her arms again and he released her but she didn't move away.
He squinted his eyes at her, curious to know what her next move was going to be.
“You're Jake.”
He nodded, his body still very much on high alert.
“We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Layla.” She extended her hand for him to shake it, but not imposing the touch on him. He had the choice to return the favor or to ignore her. His calloused fingers touched the inside of her wrist, feeling her erratic heartbeat under his fingertips when he shook her hand.
“Are you scared or anxious, querida?”
“Both, maybe? You're very different from Steven. I don't know what to expect from you.”
“As long as you all stay out of my way, there's no reason for you or them to be scared.”
“Why are you here, right now, Jake? Why are you still working for Khonshu?”
“He promised me something in exchange for my help,” he confessed, which surprised Layla.
“What do you want from him? Nothing good ever comes from owing Khonshu.”
“You don't need to know. Marc knows that too. After all, that's the whole point of me. I operate with the conscience stopping Marc from doing what needs to be done. I have a score to settle. For all of us.”
“What happened to you in that well, Jake?” Something wasn't adding up and it was making her nervous. She wanted to shake him out of this delusion that he had to do everything on his own and rely on Khonshu to succeed.
It seemed that Jake had always been alone in his misery since Marc was unaware of his existence. The bond that Steven and Marc were sharing had put him in the difficult spot of being the stranger, the outcast, in a body that they all shared.
“I closed my eyes and decided that not caring was better than wallow.” That didn't answer her question, and despite the cryptic answer, it said a lot about who he was.
“Marc and Steven want to help. You have to open up to them.”
“They wouldn't like what they'd learn. Don't you know that Pandora's Box is better left untouched?”
He leaned in close to her, his mouth merely an inch from her lips as he whispered. His hot breath tickled her skin but she kept her eyes trained on his.
“You should close your eyes too. This will soon be over.” He covered Layla's eyes with his hand with a gentleness she didn't know he possessed. “I'm sorry, Layla.”
When his hand fell from her eyes, allowing her to see again, she looked back into the confused gaze of her husband who leaned back, away from his wife.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked her.
“Well... It seems like Khonshu isn't the only one with an agenda.” Marc's annoyance grew at this comment, and he flopped back on the bed.