To Love and Blood

A warm weight is heavy on Kats waist as her eyes flutter open. She stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment, uncomprehending, before the rush of memory floods her. Lifting her head, Kat sees that the weight is in fact, Marc's arm which had been slung over her waist at some point in the night and drawn her closer to him. Beside her, Marc sleeps deeply, soft snores vibrating through him. His face is pressed against the pillow and his whole body is lax and lazy. The tension that Kat had grown accustomed to is gone and in its place is a comfortable relaxation she has never seen on him before.

Smiling to herself, Kat lays her head back down with a content sigh, she can afford a few more minutes of this peace. Morning light streams through the balcony and the cool desert breeze flutters the sheer curtains beside the open window. Birds chatter somewhere off in the city and the thrum of cars drifts through the streets, all is calm and beautiful in this moment.

But the weight of responsibility settles on Kats shoulders as she remembers why she is here in the first place. Taking care to move slowly and not disturb Marc's much needed sleep, Kat slips out from his hold and pads barefoot to the bathroom to begin getting ready. While she brushes her hair, Kat does some research on her phone. She begins by just searching Harrow's name and from there she follows clue after clue until she finally finds someone in Cairo who is rumored to be high in rank, using the info Ben had sent her late last night.

After brushing her teeth and pulling on a tank top and shorts, Kat pulls her hair up into a loose bun and goes out to wake up Marc. She finds Marc still asleep, having moved to take up the entire bed in his sleep.

Rolling her eyes, Kat pokes his toned chest and smirks when Marc gives an affronted grumble but doesn't open his eyes.

“Oi! Lazy daisy, get up.” Kat shoves Marc's shoulder and leans over him with a cheesy bright smile until he reluctantly cracks open his eyes and scowls at her, “Morning sunshine.”

Marc rolls away and sits up, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, asking in a scratchy guff voice that sends a trill down Kats spine, “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get dressed.” Kat says, throwing a random shirt from his bag at him, “I got a lead.”

“A lead?” Marc repeats dumbly, his morning fog not yet clearing.

Kat chuckles and lays back down on the soft bed, watching as Marc moves about the room to get ready, “I found someone who may know where Harrow is.”

Marc looks back at her, studying her for a moment before offering a small smile, a peace offering.

While Marc is in the bathroom, Kat grabs her black jacket and stuffs its pockets full of cash and a can of pepper spray, in case she can’t get her blades. From the grocery bag that she had forgotten on the floor in the events of last night, Kat pulls out two packaged falafels.

When Marc emerges, Kat tosses him one of the falafels, which he deftly catches, and tears into her own, mumbling through the food in her mouth, “Hurry up and eat, we've got to go soon if we want to find this guy.”

“Hasn’t anyone taught you not to talk with your mouth full?” Marc teases, a soft, faux glare on his face as he watches Kat relaxing against the headboard, copper skin shining against the white sheets.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you not to punch mirrors?” Kat shoots back, glancing at Marc's bandaged hand pointedly.

Marc rolls his eyes and walks past her, grabbing his own jacket and the room key. Together they walk out the door and down to the streets as Kat debriefs Marc on everything she found while he was sleeping.

She tells him the man's name, and that he is likely to be in the morning markets during this time. She pulls out her phone and shows him a picture of their target and Marc laughs at Kats cat themed phone case.

“How did you even find all this?” Marc asks suspiciously, his curiosity over Kats mysterious tracking skills returning tenfold.

“I'm sure you could do the same.” Kat shrugs, dismissing Marc's question.

Marc frowns at her, “I can, but how did you?”

Kats shoulders tense for a split second before she forces herself to become relaxed, smoothing her face over and resisting the urge to fidget and avoid Marc's questioning gaze. She thinks, trying to figure out what to say without revealing that she just so happened to have a hacker who gives her information, which of course would lead to harder questions that Kat cannot answer.

Luckily there is a flash of dark hair that Kat recognizes from the photo.

“There!” Kat shouts, pointing at the man who takes one look at them and begins to run away.

Kat chases after him, feet pounding against the ground, Marc catching up to run alongside her as they chase the man through the market. It's crowded and hard to keep track of their target through the many heads and bodies in the way, Marc and Kat have to duck and weave together as they try to catch the man who keeps slipping from their reach as he continues to run faster.

Kat pushes herself to run faster as the man jumps over carts of fruit and empty wooden boxes. The man climbs up and begins to jump from roof to roof as Kat and Marc begin to lose him. The man disappears over the walls of a taller roof and Kat hears Marc curse under his breath.

Breathing heavily, Kat and Marc jump over the roofs walls and stumble to a halt when they see the group of three men holding the one they had been chasing, drawing a knife from his chest and letting him fall down, dead.

“You killed him?” Marc asks the three men casually through panting breaths, “I needed to talk to him about a dig sight, guess I'll have to talk to you instead.”

“God, I hate it when that happens.” Kat groans, frowning at the body on the roof.

“You have people you're chasing murdered often?” Marc questions with a disbelieving brow.

“It happens more often than you think.”

“You're too late.” One of the men, a taller one with a scar running down his face, interjects, looking between Marc and Kat, “You're never gonna find Harrow.”

“Really? Are you sure about that?” Kat challenges with a confident smirk, tilting her head.

The man pulls out the knife and begins to flip it around in his hands, walking closer in a dance-like pattern. Kat keeps thinking he will strike at some point but he just keeps doing his little tricks. Kat and Marc glance at each other, sharing an amused look.

“Are we dancing?” Marc challenges the man, raising his fists, “Are we fighting? What are we gonna do?”

The man grins and keeps dancing. Fed up with the show, Kat punches him square in the nose, sending the man back with a shout and a spurt of blood.

“Aw, I was enjoying that.” Marc teases, smirking at Kat who wipes the blood from her hand on her jacket.

Kat grins as the two other men rush at them. Her veins pump with buzzing anticipation and her muscles sing with the excitement of the fight. One man goes after Marc, shoving him against the wall as they wrestle for the upperhand. The other, a mere boy Kat now realizes, runs at her.

Kat is distracted by the revelation that the boy can’t be more than fourteen, and the boy manages to get a hit straight to her jaw.

“Ah, motherfucker.” Kat hisses, cradling her jaw as it throbs.

Narrowing her eyes, Kat pulls back and they begin to circle each other. Kat doesn't want to hurt this kid, but she also can't just let him go.

‘Why can't I just have no morals?’ Kat bemoans, frowning as she tries to formulate a plan.

The kid darts forward, fists raised. Kat grabs his wrist and twists so it is trapped behind his back, holding it there for a painful moment before shoving the kid away.

“Look kid, just tell me where Harrow is and none of this needs to happen.” Kat says, keeping her voice firm as the kid glares petulantly at her, “Nothing needs to happen.”

The kid says nothing and runs at her again, this time preparing to land a kick. In the second that the kid's leg is raised, Kat kicks his other leg from under him and grabs the airborne leg to flip the kid midair. He lands with a crash on the ground as Kat looks down pityingly at him.

“Come on, kid.” Kat tries again, “This won't end well for you, just tell me where Harrow is.”

The kid shakes his head resolutely and pushes himself back up, rushing at Kat once again. The kids brave, she’ll give him that. Kat ducks out of the way and catches Marc's eyes from where he is fighting the other man. His eyes are dark and different. In that moment, Kat is not sure who she's looking at.

Before she can think too much on it, Kat is drawn back into her own fight as the kid lands a solid punch to her abdomen, making her double over in pain and clutch at her stomach. Breathing through her nose, Kat straightens up and swings her arm to punch him, hesitating at the last second and switching to an open handed slap.

Suddenly, Marc's form runs past her. Glancing at where he had been, Kat sees the man he was fighting laying on the ground, beaten but not dead.

“Hey! Wait up!” Kat calls after Marc, confusion at his movements clouding her face as she chases after him.

Marc ignores her and keeps running, jumping down to the street and hailing a cab. Kat barely has time to dive into the back seat as Marc tells the driver to take off.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kat shouts, ignoring the questioning glance of the driver and fisting Marc's jacket, pulling his face close to hers as she glares at him, “We needed them to figure out where Harrow is! And how could you just ditch me like that?”

In a flash, Marc blinks and he suddenly seems like Marc again. His eyes are once again familiar and known to Kat, his face contorts in confusion as he looks from where Kat is clutching his jacket to her face, entirely too close.

Kat, suddenly feeling nervous and flushed, shoves Marc away and flops back in the seat with a huff.

“Where's Steven?” Marc asks, panic and confusion lacing his voice as he looks around as if taking in his surroundings for the first time. He leans forward and asks the driver, “Where are you taking us?”

“You said airport.” The driver responds in a thick accent, looking back at Marc through the mirror with suspicion.

“Why the hell did you leave me?” Kat demands, pinning Marc to his seat with her harsh glare.

“Look, I don't know what Steven did when he took over-” Marc begins.

“Steven wouldn't just abandon me in the middle of a fight.” Kat challenges, sure that whoever she had been with a few minutes ago was not Steven, and now she's doubting that it was Marc either.

Marc turns to respond when something out the window, or rather, someone, catches his eye. Eyes widening, Marc shouts for the driver to stop and, not even waiting for the car to stop moving, leaps out and runs up to the man from the fight before. Kat follows after him, watching as Marc grabs the man's shirt and pushes him against the wall.

The kid from before is there as well, edging away until Kat grabs him and pulls him back. The man Marc holds is looking at Marc as if he were the devil himself. Wide fearful eyes are pleading for Marc to let him go.

“Where's harrow?” Marc demands, growling in the mans face. When the man stays silent, Marc delivers a tooth rattling punch to the man's jaw and asks through gritted teeth, “Where is Harrow? Tell me!”

The kid wriggles in Kats grasp and she has to draw her eyes from Marc to regain her grip.

“Stop moving, kid.” Kat says frustratedly, “You're going to hurt yourself.”

The kid glares at her but ultimately stops his struggle. Sighing Kat turns back to where Marc is and gasps. Marc's hands are covered in blood and the man he had been holding is dead at his feet.

“Marc!” Kat shouts, her mouth falling open in shock.

Marc turns to Kat, a grimace on his face. He looks Kat up and down slowly, grunting and walking away.

‘Oh I am so going to kill him’ Kat vows to herself, grabbing the kids arm and pulling him along as she chases after Marc, who doesn't even turn to make sure she's following.

Marc steps out into the street and approaches a stopped car, forcing the driver out at knife point. Kat begrudgingly gets into the car's back seat and shoves the kid in as well. Her frustration with Marc growing as he continues to ignore her.

“Look, just tell us where Harrow is.” Kat tries to appeal to the kid, “Your life is not worth this.”

“Ammits cause is worth more than any life.” The kid retorts, his young face set with determination.

“Ammits cause is bloodthirst in shiny wrapping.” Kat says with a frown, “Don't go down this path kid. You will remember everyone you've hurt and it will haunt you, trust me.”

“It is justice.”

Kat has to admire the kids' conviction. Even when surrounded by strangers and the threat of death he sticks to his (wrong) beliefs. In the front, Marc drives silently up a winding road to the top of a cliff. His eyes keep darting back to Kat and she cannot shake how different they are than normal.

“Do you have a family?” Kat switches tactics, softening her voice.

The kid slowly shakes his head, suspicious eyes watching Kat curiously.

“Is that how Harrow found you? He gave you a place to stay?” Kat wonders, beginning to understand how this young kid could be roped into Harrow's cause.

The kid nods, narrowing his eyes at Kat, “He has given us a new purpose.”

The car screeches to a halt as it finally reaches the top of the cliff edge, lurching Kat and the kid forward in their seats. Kat glares at Marc from behind him, imagining burning a hole into the back of his head.

Before Kat has a moment to understand what is happening, Marc has grabbed the young boy from the back of the seat and dragged him to the dry dusty ground. He begins to punch the boy mercilessly, a knife clenched in his hand, though the frown upon his lips shows his displeasure with his own actions.

“Stop!” Kat yells, trying to pull Marc away from the now crying boy, “Stop it, Marc!”

Marc blindly pushes Kat away like she is nothing more than a nuisance and turns back to the boy who is curled into a ball with a bleeding nose and bruised eyes. Kat stumbles back and feels helpless, something she is so unused to feeling. And she hates it.

“Get the hell away from him!” Kat shouts, roughly shoving Marc and placing herself between him and the boy.

Marc glares at her, no, not Marc. Someone else, someone new glares at her. A dark look passes over his face before he rolls his eyes and his entire body language changes again.

“Oh my god.” Marc's american accented voice gasps as he returns to his own body.

The first thing Marc notices is the blood covering his hands, staining them even more. The next is the boy lying on the ground with a broken nose. His eyes finally land on Kat, and that is when his heart freezes. Her grey-blue eyes stare back at him fearfully, she’s afraid of him, of whatever had just happened. Her eyes are red rimmed as if she is holding back tears and she flinches as he finally looks at her.

Shame and regret fills Marc, a horrid guilt for making her afraid of him. Marc looks at his surroundings and notices that he is now on a cliff and that Konshue is sitting relaxed on top of a stolen car.

“Steven, what did you do?” Marc asks his reflection in the knife.

One thing Kat knows is that that was not Steven and she says as much, warily watching Marc.

“Then who was it?” Marc's voice is so confused and helpless, it rips at Kats heart with its claws of sympathy.

“I don’t know.” Kat whispers, half to herself as she drops her gaze to the clouds of dust kicked up around her feet.

Marc takes a step towards her and Kat, though she knows it is ridiculous, flinches away. Marc steps back, his eyes growing sad and distant as he looks away. Kat curses herself for reacting so instinctively. It isn't even that she’s afraid of this new person, it’s that she’s afraid of her memories, her past.

Something about seeing this new person hurting the boy had triggered her, had sent her into a fight or flight mode that claws at her throat to be released. It brought back images of a tall man who would attack first and ask questions later.

“I'm sorry.” Kat apologizes, though she's not quite sure why, for making Marc feel bad?

Marc shakes his head and lets the knife fall from his hands and walks past Kat to the boy. Kat makes no move to stop him, she knows that Marc will not hurt the young boy, or at least she hopes not.

Marc grabs the boy and demands, “Where's the tomb?”

“Take him to the ledge.” A grating deep voice startles Kat.

She turns to see a large bird skeleton sitting atop the car, his legs crossed as he leans forward as if watching an entertaining play. His beaked head tilts to examine Kat before dismissing her entirely.

“He's just a kid.” Marc argues, not yet aware that Kat can see Konshue.

“He will talk.” Konshue insists.

“And if he doesn't?” Kat challenges the old bird, a frown forming on her face. She doesn't trust Konshue, and she sure as hell doesn't trust his ‘advice’.

The god shrugs, as if to say ‘not my problem’. Kats irritation grows and she glares at the insufferable bird.

“You can see him?” Marc suddenly asks, surprising Kat as he is suddenly beside her.

“I couldn't before,” Kat explains, muttering under her breath, “Kinda wish I didn't now.”

“You and me both.” Marc agrees, scowling at the god like a guard dog telling a stranger to back down.

Marc grabs the kid and drags him, kicking and fighting, to the edge of the ledge. Kat stays behind him, watching carefully but not too concerned now that Marc is back.

“Where is Harrow?” Marc shakes the kid slightly, holding him far over the edge.

The kids' eyes dart between Marc and the steep deadly drop below. After not receiving an answer, Marc unwinds part of the kids scarf so the only thing keeping him from falling is the fabric. The boy's face turns to look at Kat, as Marc demands to know where Harrow is once again. The kids' eyes stay locked on hers as they become set with determination. The kid draws out a pocket knife.

“Praise Ammit.” The boy vows, in one quick motion cutting the fabric and letting himself fall back.

Kat rushes to the edge, Marc arms wrap around her waist and halls her back to the safety of the ledge, keeping her there despite how she kicks and screams.

“No!” Kat screams, struggling as Marc holds her tightly away from the edge, “No! Please!”

Her eyes burn and her throat feels raw as tears wet her face. The shock of it all makes her forget to stay guarded, to keep her mask on.

“Calm down!” Marc shouts, immediately quieting his voice to a more soothing tone, “It's okay, it's okay.”

Kat , in a moment of clarity, realizes that she has let her emotions take control and fights to wrestle them back into the tightly locked box she keeps them in. her breaths are gasping and wheezing at first as she focuses on slowing them.

“You're okay, Kat, I'm here.” Marc whispers, his arms becoming looser but still holding her close, “Breath with me. Just breathe.”

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Kat repeats, a hoarse whisper under her breath as her chest constricts and expands shakily.

Her tears stop, her mask resumes its spot, but her eyes are still those heartbroken, crushed and broken ones. Her breaths slowly return to normal as she focuses on the rise and weight of Marc's chest against her back.

A deep rush of shame washes over her as she is struck by the knowledge that she has just let a child die. She had seen the potential danger and done nothing. She didn't know, hadn't thought, that the kid would do something so drastic. She never even considered that his faith would go so far.

“I didn't even ask his name.” Kat whispers, leaning back into Marc's hold instead of fighting it as a tiredness overcomes her as she comes down from the shock.

“I know, I'm sorry.”

Kat gives a weak chuckle and looks up at Marc with watery eyes, “Why are you apologizing? It wasn't your fault.”

Though it’s a simple sentence, Marc abruptly releases Kat and turns away. He becomes closed off again as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his shoulders tensing as he shakes his head to himself.

“Mmm, I thought he'd talk.” Konshue hums, uncaring.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kat seeths, turning on the large bird skeleton with a wrathful fury, “A child just died because of your idea!”

“I was not the one to enact it.” Konshue disagrees, nodding at where Marc is angrily speaking to Steven in his reflection.

“Oh don't you dare!” Kat hisses, stalking forward till she has to lean her head back to look up at the giant god, “Don't you dare put this on him you stupid oversized pigeon!”

Konshue chuckles and watches Kat, like a predator amused by its prey, “You are bold, but do not forget who I am.”

“Yeah? Well don't forget who I am either.” Kat glares and crosses her arms challengingly, “You do this again and I promise, I will ruin you.”

The god laughs at her. He laughs at her! Kat feels hot fire burning in her veins as the cold empty sadness becomes twisted and fueled by this bird's attitude. His lack of empathy for what he puts Marc through makes her defensiveness rise and fight to be released.

Glancing over at Marc, Kat sees that he’s wrapped up his heated conversation with Steven and is walking over to where her and Konshue are having a standoff. Sighing, Kat backs off and takes a step towards Marc to meet him in the middle, offering a small smile that Marc barely returns.

“Well, if we cannot find Harrow's dig crew, we're gonna have to stop him another way.” Marc says, grimacing.

Kat nodes and worries her lip as she thinks, “Hmm, we could bring in someone else, someone more powerful?”

“So?” Marc asks, accepting Kats idea and turning to Konshue expectantly, “What about the other gods? Are they just going to stand by and allow somebody to release Ammit?”

“I, for one, will not.” Bastets deep voice rumbles as she appears next to Kat, her purple and gold robes flowing elegantly around her.

“Holy—!” Marc shouts, jumping back from the newly appeared goddess, his eyes going wide and disbelieving.

Kat covers her mouth with her hand as she bends over cackling. Her eyes fill with mirth as she watches Marc stumble over his words and stares openly at the cat goddess.

“Is, is she a.. Cat?” Marc asks, turning to Kat with raised brows and a bewildered expression.

“Mhm.” Kat nods, fighting against the smirk rising on her lips.

“Is that a problem, Marc Spector?” bastets low voice rumbles, her whiskers twitching dangerously as her yellow eyes narrow on Marc as she leans down to look upon him closer.

“No,” Marc shakes his head, backing away cautiously, “No problem.”

“Good.” Bastet stands back up, a smug smirk on her face. The goddess turns to Kat, whispering conspiratorially, “This one is quite amusing.”

“He's as emotionally constipated as a stone statute, but he has his moments.” Kat whispers back, glancing at Marc who is looking between the two of them with confusion.

Bastet nods and says to everyone, “I will help fight against Harrow, however I can.”

Konshue tilts his boney bird head in thought, saying, “To signal for an audience with the gods is to face their wrath.”

“Why? What's the worst that could happen?” Marc asks, stepping back beside Kat, though not without glancing warily at Bastet as he moves.

“Anger them enough and they'll imprison me in stone.” Konshue tells them, a resentfulness in his voice.

“That doesn't sound so bad to me.” Marc mutters, making Kat snort and cover her mouth.

Bastet raises an unamused brow at Konshue, rolling her eyes and adding, “They only go to such lengths because of your past misdeeds.”

“I wished only for justice!” Konshue argues, standing up to be on level with Bastet as he shouts, “It is not my fault the gods are so against retribution.”

“Your ideas were crazy and dangerous.” Bastet growls, revealing her sharp fangs in a subtle warning to back down.

“Okay, enough!” Kat shouts, getting the attention of the two giant gods, “Who has any good ideas? Because right now, that's what we need. Not some hissy fit between you two.”

They fall silent, thankfully, and think for a few moments. Kat thinks and thinks, but nothing useful comes to mind. Judging from the frustrated way Marc's brows crease into hard lines, she would guess he's not having much luck either.

Finally, Konshue raises his beaked head, “I have a bad one.”

“I believe I specifically asked for good ideas.” Kat says, but it is too late.

The sun flares and is bright as a shadow begins to descend over it. The sky floods with orange and red hues of a premature sunset before all falls dark and the sun is completely covered by the moon.

“What are you doing?” Marc shouts over the whistling wind.

“Something stupid probably.” Kat says, watching as the shadows become longer on the ground and surrounding areas.

“Sending the gods a signal they can't ignore.” Konshue tells Marc, ignoring Kats comment.

“Ah, I was right!” Kat cheers sarcastically as the wind dies down and the sun resumes its rightful place in the sky.

“Come.” Konshue orders, sweeping his cape dramatically as he begins to walk away, leading them without checking to ensure Marc and Kat follow.

“Is he always this dramatic?” Kat whispers to Marc, sharing a glance.

Marc smiles at Kat and rolls his eyes, walking after Konshue and turning back to Kat, “You have no idea.”

Marc turns and walks after Konshue, glancing back to see if Kat is coming. Bastets large clawed hand rests heavily on Kats shoulder, keeping her in place beside the goddess.

“Go.” Bastet tells him as Kat rolls her eyes, “I have need of my avatar.”

Marc nods slowly, looking at Kat with a silent question. Kat gives Marc a small smile and shoos him away. Marc slowly begins to follow Konshue again, but not before looking back at Kat again a few times.

When Marc has disappeared over the crest of the hill, Kat turns to Bastet and crosses her arms, raising a brow and waiting for the goddess to elaborate. The goddess waves for Kat to follow as she walks to the path winding up the cliff and presses a hand to the rock face. Kat's eyes widen as the rock begins to glow a bright gold and twist and groan as the rocks are shifted out of the way.

A long golden hall stretches through the rock, hieroglyphs depicting different stories of Bastets deeds etched in the shining gold. Kat looks from the open hall to Bastet, unsure of what she’s supposed to do.

“Well?” Bastet prods, an expectant look on her whiskered face, “Are you going to go in?”

Kat looks back at the hall and peers down the hall, “Go in where? What is this?”

Bastet sighs and rolls her eyes, as if Kat is being purposefully obtuse, “The gods have called for a council, but I must speak with you privately first.”

Bastet walks into the hall, her long robes sweeping across the floor behind her as she leads Kat further and further in. Kat warily follows behind, taking in the stories etched in the walls as she passes. The only sound is the whisper of cloth against the smooth floor and the flickering of the torches that dot the walls, giving just enough light to see comfortably in the narrow hallway.

Finally it opens to a tall ceilinged room, decorated with more gold and jeweled walls and furniture. An elegant settee is in the middle of the room with a small table beside it, a shelf filled with necklaces and rings from all eras is pushed against the wall and beside it is a glass case that displays a tall staff. Kat recognizes it as a sistrum, a percussion instrument that is basically a rattle. It is displayed with importance along with a delicately carved mask made from a time dulled gold. The mask is that of a cat's head with long hair and painted eyes, it exudes the air of wealth and importance.

Bastet hums and stretches out as she settles on the large settee, her arms and legs sprawled out lazily. Her slitted pupil eyes pin Kat in place with their heavy gaze, examining Kat with a critical eye that makes her shift in her spot standing in front of the goddess.

Bastet finally breaks the silence, observing appraisingly, “You have changed little one.”

Kat rolls her eyes at Bastets nickname and crosses her arms, “What are you talking about? No I haven't.”

“Oh my naive little avatar.” Bastet chuckles, not mocking but still it grates Kats already frayed nerves.

“I'm not naive.” Kat mutters, glaring at the shiny floor.

Kat knows she looks like a petulant child, but she can't bring herself to care. The whiplash of emotions from today had finally taken their toll and left Kat so tired that hiding her emotions is an extra strain she can't be bothered with. Her chest is still tight and uncomfortable with the pain trapped within, her mind is filled with worries about the upcoming council and Marc and Steven, everything is just too much.

“Come, sit with me.” Bastet offers, shifting up so there is room on the settee next to her, “This is a safe place, do not pain yourself further by closing off.”

With burning eyes, Kat shuffles over and flops down next to the goddess. The soft, plush cushions give beneath her and provide a steady support. Hunching over, Kat buries her face in her hands and sniffles as tears begin to leak out again.

“He was so young.” Kat murmurs, turning her red flushed face to look at Bastet, “Why would he throw his life away like that?”

Bastet sighs and rests a warm hand on Kats back, rubbing soothingly as she explains, “He was dedicated to his cause, that is something I can respect.”

“I killed a child.” Kat whispers, more to herself than anyone, “I am a monster.”

“No.” Bastet says firmly, guiding Kats hands away from her face so she will look at the goddess, “You could not have prevented this, my little avatar. If he was willing to die for his cause, then who is to say he would not have done the same anyway?”

Kat purses her lips as she thinks over Bastets words. Her mind tells her that, logically, the goddess is right, but her heart is in a pain that cannot be reasoned with by logic. Her gaze is fixed on her hands, seeing the blood staining them and all the pain they have created. Like shackles, cool and impenetrable, around her wrists, the weight of each life she has taken adds another link and presses further on her consciousness. She doesn't care, no, she can’t care. Caring gets you killed, Kat can not take that risk.

“But this is what I mean when I say you have changed.” Bastet continues, becoming more serious as Kat wipes away the lingering tears and straightens up, “You have never had such strong reactions to death, I was worried you did not care anymore.”

“So?” Kat questions, doubtful that someone like her can truly change, “I'm sad a kid died, that doesn’t mean i've changed who I am.”

Batste looks at Kat seriously, “It is not just the child's death I speak of.”

Kats brows furrow as she tries to think of what Bastet could mean. Nothing comes to mind. The sticky trail of tears winds down her face as she slowly rises her walls back into their cemented place.

“The gift shoppiest and the mercenary.” Bastet says, rolling her eyes at her avatars' obtuseness, “You were to kill them and you didn't, you're even protecting them now. Is that not a change?”

“I started to like them, sue me.” Kat shrugs, turning away from the goddess.

“It is more than that,” Bastet insists gently, “I know you feel it too, why will you not accept this?”

“Because there's nothing to accept.” Kat argues, pushing up from the settee and marching over to the glass case and glaring at her reflection in it, “I'm the same as I ever was.”

“Cold and emotionless?”

“Exactly!” Kat says, turning to Bastet, her mouth dropping into a frown when she sees that the goddess is mocking her.

“You are neither of those my dear.” Bastet explains, more firmly this time to get it through Kats thick skull, “You may have been once, but you were deceiving yourself.”

Kat shakes her head and turns away, yelling, “Shut up, just…shut up!”

This is all too much for Kat to deal with right now, all too overwhelming. Her mind’s already a mess of confusion and she simply can't add this to those tangled thoughts. Her chest hurts, her mind is tired, and all Kat wants is some peace to sleep and forget about everything for once.

Bastet watches Kat carefully, finally sighing and letting the topic go. Standing up, Bastet goes to the open hallway again, beckoning Kat to follow after her.

“Come, we must go to the council.”

“Right.” Kat runs a hand through her hair and tries to flatten it into something less wild and deranged, “What exactly is this council?”

Bastet stops and turns to Kat, quickly explaining, “It is a council to determine whether to give any weight to Konshues accusations. I will be speaking through you, but do not worry, you will still have control of yourself.”

With that, Bastet continues walking, leaving Kat looking dumbfounded behind her.

“Wait wait, what?” Kat calls, running to catch up with the goddess, “What do you mean you'll be ‘speaking through me’? Are you going to possess me or something?”

“Yes, precisely.” Bastet smiles, doing nothing to comfort Kat, “Good luck.”

The goddess disappears into the air, leaving a very confused Kat to continue down the hall. Cautiously, Kat walks forward to the room that the narrow hallway opens into, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet to quiet the sound of her footsteps. She doesn't know what to expect, whether to be on the defensive or not.

Kat walks into a large room with a pit in the middle, surrounded by the raised platforms that bear chairs in front of large stone statues. The area is lit by low flickering torches and fires on the ground in front of each chair.

The room is empty, thankfully, and Kat takes her time to look around. She realizes that the chairs are for each different god and goddess on the council and wonders whether Bastet has her own chair. Descending the steps into the pit, Kat almost trips over a loose stone and barely is able to steady herself before eating dirt.

“How can the avatar of a cat goddess be so clumsy?” A familiarly gruff voice asks from behind Kat.

Kat turns to face the newcomer and her face lights up, “Marc!”

Kat rushes forward and pulls Marc into a hug. The tightness in her chest relaxing some now that she knows he is fine. Kat pulls back and smiles at Marc, her face flushing as she quickly steps away and purposefully examines the room.

“So, does Konshue have a plan?” Kat asks, keeping her voice low in case anyone is eavesdropping.

“He has…” Marc trails off, grimacing, “Concepts of a plan?”

“So he doesn't have a plan, great.” Kat deadpans, cursing the god in her mind.

“Look, this is my first time doing this okay?” Marc huffs, beginning to grow frustrated, “I'm just doing my best with what I've got.”

“Hey,” Kat says gently, stepping closer to Marc and squeezing his arm, “It will be okay, we’ll figure it out.”

Marc rolls his eyes but the quirk of his lips gives away the smile he is hiding. Running a hand through his hair, Marc glances at Kat and finally takes in the way her eyes are still lingering redness and her harshly bitten lips.

“You okay?” Marc carefully asks, unsure whether his concern is welcome.

“I'm fine.”

Kats words come out harsher than she meant them too, everyone is asking her if she’s okay and she is fine, completely fine.

“Lets just-” Kat sighs and drags a hand down her face, “Let's just get this over with.”

Marc nods, his worried gaze not leaving Kat as she sits down on the steps, the firelight highlights the past tears that left their trails that glitter in the low light, staining her face with tales of sadness. His attention is grabbed as a woman enters the council room. She is beautiful. Tall, with coffee brown skin and long silky ebony hair.

“Konshues theatrics are unparalleled,” The woman says, her words echoing through the room as she approaches Marc and Kat, who stands and takes on a defensive stance.

“Are all avatars attractive?” Kat mutters to herself, her gaze switching from the woman to Marc and back again.

“You must be his avatar.” the woman smiles at Marc, a friendly smile that Kat believes to be real.

“Hi.” Marc's voice is clipped and suspicious, “And who are you?”

“Im Yatzil, avatar of Hathor.”

“Right.” Marc nods, completely lost already.

Beside him, Kat rolls her eyes and leans over to whisper in his ear, “Hathor is the goddess of music and love. She is powerful, so don't mess this up.”

Marc glares at Kat, frowning and whispering back, “Who says I'm the one who will mess it up, kitty Kat?”

Kats mouth falls open before she snaps it closed and scowls at Marc and his inventive nickname.

“Ahem,” Yatzil clears her throat to interrupt whatever those two are doing, flirting? Fighting? She can’t tell honestly. Yatzil gives Marc a charming smile, “Surely Konshue has mentioned her?”

Marc turns back to Yatzil, “The gods aren't really his favorite topic.”

“Not even when they are old friends?” Yatzil asks, her smile faltering for a second.

“Sorry.” Marc shrugs, unsure of what else to say.

A gentle breeze floats through the air, an ethereal whisper carried on it. Yatzil chuckles and smiles again, turning to tell Marc.

“She says that it was not so long ago that Konshue enjoyed Hathors melodies.”

“Oh gods, ew.” Kat grimaces, wrinkling her nose in disgust and making Yatzil smile and laugh again.

“As far as I know the only melody Konshue enjoys is the sound of pain.” Marc mutters, his face closing off again.

Kat wants to say something, anything to comfort Marc, but she has no such words. Her words are not soft or gentle, her mouth is sharp and jagged, meant only for scathing remarks and broken words. So Kat stays quiet.

“Have your gods told you two how this works?” Yatzil asks, changing subjects smoothly.

“A bit.” Kat shrugs at the same time that Marc says “Not really.”

“Is there something I should know?” Marc asks, looking from Yatzil to Kat.

“Try not to fight it.” Yatzil offers, “It's a strange sensation, but you'll get used to it.”

“That is very unhelpful.” Kat states, “What are we not supposed to fight?”

Other avatars begin to trickle in and take their allotted seats just then. Yatzil gives Marc and Kat a sympathetic smile and leaves without answering Kats question. The gods are all seated around the pit where Kat and Marc stand together. The avatars look down upon them with a range of emotions, from curiosity, to sympathy, to anger.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Marc whispers to Kat, noticing the way her hands are tightly clenched at her sides and the way her eyes are darting from figure to figure.

Kat glances at Marc from the corner of her eyes, a fake smile that Marc easily sees through pasted on her face, “I’m fine, Marc.”

Marc, very unconvinced, shrugs and turns back to look at the gathered council. His hand brushes against Kats and he can see her relax slightly at the contact and decides to keep his hand there.

“In attendance,” Yatzil announces in a loud commanding voice as she takes her seat on a throne, “Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Orsis, and Hathor, to hear the account of Konshue.”

Beside her, Marc's head jerks back and his eyes flash a bright blue light as Konshue possesses him. Kat winces and is glad that Bastet simply lingers by her side, not possessing her yet but will should she need to say something.

‘Oh my god!’ Kat screams in her mind as she stares at the gathered council, a mix of excitement and wonder filling her, ‘This is the Enead!’

Her egyptology nerd braid is currently firing a mile a minute and freaking out. Kat is sure that if Steven were here he would be in the same boat as her.

The reminder of Steven, fills Kat with a sense of guilt that brings a halt to her excitement. Here she is, just galavanting around with Marc while Steven’s probably afraid and confused.

“You've been banished once for nearly exposing us, Konshue,” A tall balding man in a crisp suit and tie, Osiris if Kat had to guess, says judgmentally, “And you know we despise your garishness, your showy masks and weapons,” Orisis’s voice drops to a threatening whisper as he glares at Konshue possessing Marc, “But manipulate the sky again and we will imprison you in stone.”

“Spare me your self rigorous threats!” Marc's voice booms through the room, possessing a power within it that is not Marcs at all.

Beside him, Kat jumps back and watches worriedly as Konshue speaks aggressively through Marc. Marc's neck is taught and strained from the uncomfortable way Konshue has pushed his head up, his eyes dart to Kat and she can only offer a weak sympathetic smile that turns to be more a grimace than anything.

“I was banished for not abandoning humanity unlike the rest of you!” Konshue continues shouting.

“Oi! Bird brain,” Kat hisses, smacking Marc's shoulder and glaring at Konshue, “Maybe don't insult the people we’re trying to get help from.”

Konshue glares at her through Marc's eyes before releasing Marc. Marc's shoulders slump and his head drops as he comes back to his own body. His breaths are heavy and labored as he looks around him and his eyes finally land on Kat.

“Hey, you okay?” Kat whispers, squeezing Marc's arm, “That looked painful.”

Marc nods and rubs at his throat, “Fine, I’m fine.”

“We have not abandoned humanity,” Another god speaks, blond with an Australian accent, Horus, “They abandoned us.”

Kats frown deepens as she fights to maintain control of her facial expressions and not glare outright at the gods. She does not believe that humanity has abandoned them, not all of humanity at least.

“We simply trust our avatars to carry out our purpose without calling undo attention to ourselves.” Osiris continues, looking at Kat as if he knows what she’s thinking and giving
Konshue through Marc a pointed glare, “Unlike some of us.”

“Avatars are not enough!” Konshue shouts through Marc, making the man wince at the force invading his body, “We need the might of gods! Return from the opulence before you lose this realm!”

“Please, use your inside voice, Konshue.” Kat groans, rubbing at her temples where a headache is beginning to form.

“I second that.” Marc mutters as he regains his body, coughing as his throat grows sore from so much shouting.

“For the last time Konshue,” Osiris sighs as if explaining to a child, “The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe.”

“And Bastet? What are your opinions?” A woman with smooth dark skin asks, turning to Kat with her questioning gaze.

Kat feels a force move through her, warm and yet cool against her skin as it fills her body from the inside, snaking its way through her chest and into her veins. It’s odd but not entirely unpleasant.

“I do not believe humanity has abandoned us, our avatars are testaments to that.” Bastets low silky voice comes from Kats mouth without her effort, it flows smoothly but Kat has no control over it, “And since humanity has not abandoned us, we should not abandon them within their time of need.”

Marc watches Kat in wonder as this strange voice comes from her mouth without effort. He is relieved that Bastet at least seems to be more gentle with her avatar than Konshue. Kats face is framed by the warm glow of the fires and brings out the golden bronze tones of her skin, highlighting her chestnut hair with its reddish tints. To Marc, Kat looks like a being of the desert, golden and beautiful.

“We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of men.” Osiris tells Bastet, more lenient than he was with Konshue.

“We will decide our best course of action.” Tefnut says decidedly, “Speak your purpose.”

Kat and Marc exchange worried glances, neither knowing where or how to start, and neither trusting Konshue to present the issue well. Kat frowns and winces as Marc's head jerks back to glare at the council of gods, his muscles tense and straining as he closes his eyes painfully.

“I call for judgement against Arthur Harrow!” Konshue shouts.

“The charges?” Says Osiris, raising a brow.

“Conspiracy to release Ammit!”

“Please, please stop shouting.” Kat mumbles, glaring at the ground as the pounding in her head grows and grates on her already thin patience.

“That is a heavy accusation Konshue.” Osiris speaks slowly, eyeing Konshue, “Let us summon the accused.”

A whoosh of air fills the room and the wall to the right opens up. The sound of clinking glass echoes around the room as all are silent, the thunk of a cane meeting the grounds as an arrhythmia to every step.

Marc moves in front of Kat, pushing her behind him as he glares at Harrow. Peering over Marc's shoulder, Kat watches as Harrow slowly approaches while wearing a benign expression that makes her skin crawl. As Harrow comes to stand beside Marc and Kat, he looks up at the gods with an expression of pure confusion. Kat hates this man.

“So,” Harrow begins, eyeing Marc and Kat, “I see by the presence of Konshues current makeshift avatar and his tag-along, the purpose of our meeting must be nefarious.”

Oh Kat is so looking forward to punching this man in the face. Konshue seems to be on the same page.

“You know exactly why we are here!” Konshue shouts, causing Marc to stumble back slightly at the force.

Holding onto Marc's arm to steady him, Kat glares at Harrow, spitting, “Obtuseness does not suit you, Harrow.”

Harrow smiles at Kat sympathetically, as if he pities her. Kats blood boils and she barely restrains the temptation to summon her suit and cut him into little tiny ribbons. She must have been showing her intent on her face, because a large calloused hand settles over hers and squeezes lightly. Looking up at Marc, Kat sighs as he subtly shakes his head, telling her to be calm.

“Nor do lies fit you, miss Katalya.” Harrow's eyes shine with triumph, as if he knows something she doesn't.

Marc can feel Kat stiffen behind him, and glares at Harrow, “Stop calling her that.”

Harrow waves his hand, brushing away Marc's words and leans forward on his cane. His eyes glitter with a cunning gile that Kat dreads.

“Speak, old master, to the point.” Harrow says performatively, adopting a ‘woe is me’ attitude, “Why have you summoned me?”

Marc lets go of Kats hand abruptly and steps forward, hunching slightly as Konshue takes over again, “Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?”

Harrow laughs and looks around at the other gods, disbelief painted on his face. His laughter ebbs as he ‘realizes’ that they are serious.

“I was in the desert,” Harrow admits, “But if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the nile.”

“You being in the desert isn't the issue.” Kat exclaims, “You're dancing around the accusation, are you releasing Ammit? I don't care whether you are in the desert, answer the actual questions!”

“I thought this was a council of gods, not avatars.” Harrow says, adopting a mask of pure innocence as he turns to the council before him.

“You are correct.” Osiris says to Harrow, frowning at Kat, warning her, “You will remain silent unless spoken too.”

“Like hell I wi-” Kats words are cut off as Marc grabs her and pulls her back to him and covers her mouth.

Glaring at the offensive hand, a mischievous smirk emerges on her face. With a startled yelp, Marc leaps away from Kat and wipes his hand on his jacket.

“Did you just lick my hand?” Marc asks, shocked and offended, “What are you, a child?”

“You're the one who put it in the way.” Kat shrugs, licking her lips smugly.

Marc glares at Kat, “You licked my hand!”

“You put it over my mouth!”

“Silence!” Horus shouts over their bickering, frowning down at the two with disapproval, “That is enough, from both of you.”

“Why would Konshue level such an accusation against you?” Osiris turns back to Harrow, leaning forward in his seat as his steepled fingers rest against his chin.

Harrow sighs regretfully before beginning to spin his tale, “Konshue has searched for Ammits tomb since he ensnared me to his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia, and his-”

“He is a deceiver!” Konshue shouts through Marc, interrupting Harrow like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Do not trust the word of a shamed god.” Harrow continues, as if Konshues protests mean nothing.

“Liar!” Konshue shouts again.

Kat buries her face in her hands and lets out a long suffering groan. This is going downhill fast. Harrow obviously knows how to get a rise out of Konshue and derail the gods' already thin control over his emotions.

“Konshue, please control yourself.” Bastets voice flows from Kats mouth as she possesses the avatar and leaves as soon as she's finished speaking.

“Konshue is unhinged, and his servant is unwell.” Harrow resumes as he was saying, throwing Marc a faux sympathy.

‘Oh no’ Kat thinks.

“What do you mean?” Osiris leans forward in interest, regarding Marc curiously.

“This is a man,” Harrow points at a very obviously uncomfortable Marc, “Who does not know his own name!”

“Harrow, stop.” Kat tries, stepping forward but being held back by Marc's fist gripping her jacket.

“He has a marriage certificate under the name of Marc Spector,” Harrow continues, ignoring Kat, “Employment records under the name Steven Grant.”

“Stop!” Marc shouts, his face contorted with a mental pain as he clutches his head tightly.

“I've seen him speak to himself..”

“Harrow that's enough!” Kat growls, glaring vehemently at the man.

“Shut up.” Marc says to Harrow, tugging at his hair in distress as Kat keeps a hand on his shoulder to remind him that she is there.

“Threaten himself,” Harrow keeps talking, chuckling with a fake sadness as he looks to the council pleadingly, “I have no idea how many personalities he must possess!”

Harrow takes a breath, giving Kat a sickening smile before he continues, “This man is clearly insane!”

In a moment, Marc's arm is gone from under Kats hand. He lurches forward, fist raised and ready to strike Harrow. A shout is stuck in Kats throat as the world seems to move in slow motion.

A bright blue glowing rope of light appears in the air and winds around Marc's fist, pulling him roughly to his knees and binding his hands behind his back. Harrow chuckles as Kat drops to the ground, checking to make sure Marc is okay.

His face is set in tight, disappointed lines, his jaw clenched painfully. He stares resolutely at the ground, not meeting Kats searching gaze.

“We will not tolerate violence in this chamber.” Osiris declares, frowning down at Marc and Kat.

“Harrow walks with glass in his shoes!” Kat shouts, unable to bite her tongue anymore, “He's not a reliable judge of ‘sanity’.”

“Did I not tell you to remain silent unless spoken to?” Osiris asks calmly.

“Well you did, but-” Kats words are cut off as an invisible force keeps her mouth closed, like a cloth wrapped around her jaw keeping it shut and silent.

“Hey! Stop it!” Marc shouts up to them, glancing worriedly at Kat who is angrily making muffled unintelligible noises.

“Silence!” Osiris yells over Marc, “This council will not descend into chaos.” He turns to Kat, “Bastet, control your avatar or I will keep her from this matter entirely.”

“She is passionate, do not slight her for that.” Bastet appeases using Kats voice.

Kat gasps as the binding is removed and she is able to open her mouth again. Rubbing her throat, Kat glares at Osiris but stays silent.

A deep sigh brings her attention back to Harrow as he looks down at her and Marc pityingly.

“It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man,” Harrow tells the council, “Konshue is taking advantage of him the same way he abused me, the way he aspires to abuse this court. Take action before it's too late.”

Kat scoffs and rolls her eyes, fed up with Harrow's act. A warning rush of wind from Bastet stays her tongue, but Kat makes sure her disbelief is painted on her face. She doesn't doubt that Konshue is taking advantage of Marc, the old bird’s shifty to say the least, but she knows that he isn't lying about Ammit. She knows that Harrow could care less about Marc, that this is all just to undermine their accusation.

“Let us speak to Marc Spector.” Says Osiris, speaking to Marc directly, “Are you unwell?”

Marc slowly looks up, his breaths are heavy and strained as he fights to control his emotions. Beside him, Kat stiffens and pulls back to give him room to breathe and speak. Her breath is baited as she watches many different thoughts dance over Marc's face.

Licking his dry lips, Marc opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally choking out, “I am. I am unwell.”

Marc looks over at Kat, his eyes searching for something Kat cannot name. She gives him an encouraging smile but does not know what else to do.

“I need help,” Marc admits, taking great pains doing so. His eyebrows set and his frown deepens as his voice grows, pointing acusitorally at Harrow, “But that doesn't change the fact that this man..”

Marc trails off, losing his momentum and letting his head fall again.

“This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Konshue.” Tefnut says gently.

“This is not about my feelings!” Marc shouts, frustrated as he tries to get these gods to see the danger, “I'm not the one on trial here, he is!” Marc points at Harrow, his voice cracking and becoming more and more strained as his emotions build, “This is about how dangerous he is, if you would just listen for a second!”

Kat can see that they are losing this argument. Horus’s face is calm and unbothered, Osiris has leaned back in his chair as he has reached his decision, and Tefnut is looking at them with pity. The only one who is still even considering their argument is Hathor and Yatzil.

“Marc,” Kat places a hand on his heaving shoulders and rubs at the tense muscles, not even thinking anything of her actions, “Breath, let me take this.”

Marc looks back at Kat and sighs, giving her a nod as he focuses on breathing deeply and wrangling his emotions. Slowly, Kat stands and faces the council.

“If you'll permit me,” Kat begins slowly, eyeing Osiris who gives her ‘permission’, “Harrow is a dangerous man. He can lie and pretend to be innocent, but Marc and I have seen his evil.”

Beside her, Harrow scoffs a disbelieving laugh, “And you would know of evil and lies, wouldn't you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Kat rounds on him, completely forgetting what she was supposed to be saying and instead rising to Harrow's bait.

“Well I just mean that you have been lying to Steven and Marc since you met them.” Harrow explains, spreading his hands in a placating gesture, “You've lied about who you are, and the gods know the evil you have commited.”

“Excuse me?” Kat growls, glaring darkly at Harrow as he continues.

“There is much blood staining your hands, and you, poor Katalya, are not the simple researcher you pretend to be, are you?”

The blood drains from Kats face as her heart pounds a frantic rhythm within her chest. She takes a step back and shakes her head, eyes wide, scared, before she pulls the shutters over her emotions and adopts the cool mask of indifference. Turning, Kat can feel the dig of her nails into her clenched palms, but she hardly cares.

“What's he talking about?” Marc's voice is accusatory and it hurts Kat, like pressing on a bruise, that he will believe harrow so easily.

It shouldn't hurt her, no, she and Marc are hardly friends. But the reminder that he still doesn't trust her, that is what makes her guilt grow and fester into irritation.

“Nothing, he's a liar.” Kat growls, daring Marc to argue with her. Wisely, he stays silent.

“Harrow has committed no offense.” Osiris announces, ending the council before Kat or Marc can even protest, “This matter is concluded.”

“Wait!” Kat and Marc shout over each other, each trying to get someone, anyone, to listen to them.

Harrow shakes his head sympathetically, a smug smirk teasing at his mouth, and leaves the chamber through the way he came in.

“Bastet.” Tefunt says, coming down to stand in front of Kat, “I expected more from you, my friend.”

“Please, why won't you listen to me?” Kat asks, as herself which surprises Tefnut.

“I say this only because you are Bastets avatar,” Tefnut begins, her voice soft and gentle, “If you truly believe in these accusations, you can stop him without the help of gods.”

“What do you mean?”

Tefnut rests a hand on Kats shoulder, “You must discover that yourself, but you do not need the strength of gods when you have strength inside you.”

With that, Tefnut turns and leaves with Kat staring after her.

“Well that was…confusing.” Kat says into the air, frowning when she doesn't hear Marc give his signature huffed laugh that she has grown to expect.

Kat looks to Marc and sees his hanged head, slumped shoulders, and the frustrated furrow of his dark brows. Kat walks to stand in front of him and offers her hand, pulling him to his feet and patting his cheek softly.

“We’ll find another way.” Kat decides, her thumb absently running over Marc's cheek tenderly.

Marc stares at her, breath taken away by the sweet softness Kat shows. It’s like water on his parched throat, something he had not known he desired but now can not live without. Without thinking, Marc allows himself to lean into her touch, reveling in the warmth of the moment.

“Ahem.” Yatzil hesitantly breaks the moment as she appears, making Kat and Marc jump apart and look anywhere but at each other.

“There is another way.” Yatzil tells them, leaning forward to whisper secretly as Hathor whispers on the wind what to say, “Listen to me carefully, Ammit was buried in secret. The location was even hidden from the gods.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Kat asks, her instinct to be suspicious of everyone and everything flaring.

“Ammit had many followers, I didn't know who to trust, but someone had to know something.”

“So then where is it?” Marc questions, crossing his arms. Kat copies him.

“One man, a medjay named Senfu.” Yatzil reveals, “He was tasked with recording the location of the tomb in case the gods ever changed their minds and decided to show mercy.”

“Great, the only one who knows where it is is a dead guy.” Kat rolls her eyes, kicking at the dusty floor.

“Find his sarcophagus and you'll find your tomb.” Yatzil assures them.

“Okay, how am I supposed to do that?” Marc asks, grasping at the thread of information and hoping it will come to fruition.

“His sarcophagus was stolen and sold on the black market last I heard, you might want to start there.” Yatzil suggests.

She gives a wave and leaves. Kat wonders silently whether she will ever see Yatzil again, she hopes she will. Now alone in the chamber, Kat stretches her arms high above her head and turns to face Marc.

“I don't know anyone on the black market.” Kat sighs disappointedly, of all the contacts she holds, that is surprisingly not one. She will need to fix that.

Marc frowns, though it looks more like a pout, and gives a frustrated sigh, “I do.”

Kat stares at Marc disbelievingly, slowly repeating, “You do?”

Marc rolls his eyes and starts marching to the door, calling back over his shoulder, “Yes, believe it or not. Now come on, we've got to find this stupid mummy.”

Kat hurries after him, falling in step beside Marc. She glances up at him, noting the frown and reluctance in his form.

“We've got a contact, that's great!” Kat says, nudging Marc to try and perk him up, gods know that walking through Egypt with Mr. Grumpy would be torture.

“We are not using my contact.” Marc states firmly, pinning Kat with a look that clearly says to not challenge him on this.

Unfortunately, Kat is never good at following directions.

“Why not?” Kat pesters Marc as they walk out into the streets of Cairo, “If you have a contact to help find the sarcophagus, why not use it?”

“Because I am not dragging her into this.” Marc weaves in and out of the crowds with Kat struggling to keep up.

“Will you slow down!” Kat huffs, pushing through the throngs of people to not lose Marc.

Looking back, Marc chuckles as Kat keeps getting blocked by more and more people. Shaking his head fondly, Marc stops and waits for Kat to catch up. When she finally reaches him, Kat sees a teasing smile edging on Marc's lips.

“Hold on, don't let go of me.” Marc says, grabbing Kats hand and beginning to pull her through the crowds again, their fingers intertwined.

Kat stares at where their hands are connected, a strange fluttering in her chest making its presence known. It feels natural, as if they have done this thousands of times before. Marc's hand is warm and heavy as she holds onto it and follows him through the crowds. Marc keeps looking back at her to make sure she is still there, and Kat has to duck her head and look anywhere else to hide the blush staining her cheeks.

Finally the crowds thin and Kat is able to walk beside Marc, neither pull their hand away though there is no longer any need to hold hands. They walk through the market and Kat can't help the wonder on her face. The colors and sounds of the market are like music to her, the bustle of life and the heavenly smells from the food stands.

Though they are supposed to be scouting for leads, Kat keeps pulling Marc over to different stands to appreciate the beautiful wares for sale. Gasping as her eyes land on a jewelry booth, Kat drags Marc over with a large smile. Marc huffs and puffs the entire time, but it is an act. He can't really be irritated when Kats eyes light up like that.

“Marc, look at this one!”

Marc is pulled out of his thoughts of her eyes and focuses on the golden chain that Kat is holding out to him. Taking it, Marc rubs his thumb over the golden cat pendant with a chuckle, of course Kat would like this one.

“And look!” Kat leans over his shoulder, her head resting against his shoulder and her breath whispering across his cheek, she points to the chest of the pendent where a simple crescent moon is etched, “It has your moon theme!”

Marc turns his head to look at Kat and feels a thump in his chest as he realizes that their faces are much closer than he thought, her smile warming his heart and the eyes he had been thinking of are now staring right at him. Kat stares back at him, her mouth runs dry and she is acutely aware of how close they are, her gaze darts unconsciously to Marc lips and back, if she just leans forward a bit she could…. No.

Clearing her throat, Kat takes a step back and looks away, “It, uh, it's just cool that our themes are…nevermind.”

Kat hastily turns back to the booth and examines the jewlery much more intensely than needed. She can feel Marc continue to stare at her as she rambles on about ancient Egyptian jewelry, anything to distract herself from whatever that just was.

“-and when pharaohs died they even put golden caps on their fingers.” Kat tells Marc, her back to him and trying to ignore the way her cheeks feel flushed.

Marc is silent, as he stares down at the necklace laying idly in his hand. The cat and moon themes combined into one pendant creates a beautiful necklace that, Marc muses, would look heavenly on Kat.

“They usually made bracelets and armlets out of flint,” Kat continues, turning to face Marc and pausing abruptly when she sees empty space where he had been standing, “Marc?”

Kat looks around her, searching for Marc's curly hair and crooked nose in the crowd but sees nothing. Kat starts to walk around the booth, heart pounding in her chest, and shouts as a body collides with hers.

“Hey,” Marc huffs, slightly out of breath for some reason, his arms going to steady Kat, “You okay?”

Kat stares at Marc before her expression becomes a frown, “Where did you go? I was worried you got kidnapped or something.”

Marc chuckles and raises a teasing brow, “You were worried about me, huh?”

“Oh don't flatter yourself, Spector.” Kat scoffs, rolling her eyes and walking away, Marc follows after her.

“You said you were worried.” Marc teases, poking Kats shoulder and drawing a laugh from her lips, “C’mon, admit it.”

“I'll admit no such thing!” Kat denies, swatting Marc's hand away and shoving him away jokingly.

“You think I'll be kidnapped?” Marc asks, crowding closer to Kat and stopping her from walking away.

Kat looks at anything but Marc as she shakes her head and replies, “I think you have the self preservation of a lemming.”

“Oof, ouch. You wound me, kitty Kat.” Marc holds a hand to his chest dramatically as he playfully stumbles away as if hit.

“Ugh, I'll never get rid of that nickname.” Kat groans, biting her lip to suppress the wide smile overtaking.

“Nah, it suits you, with your whole.. fangs and eyes thing.” Marc says, gesturing at his face as Kat snorts a laugh.

Shaking her head fondly, Kat grabs Marc's hand and continues walking through the market. Her and Marc continue to tease and prod at each other, a sort of language between them. It’s odd to Kat, how Marc can have such a lax and teasing side to him when he’s always so tense and grumpy. It’s like he forgets whatever it is that weighs on him and only they are left in this world.

“We should probably start actually searching for Senfu.” Kat eventually says, breaking the atmosphere as Marc begins to frown again as he remembers the whole reason they are here.

“Right.” Marc mutters, his face deepening into its set sternness as the tense lines return to his shoulders, as if holding the weight of the world again.

Kat instantly regrets bringing it up, she had been enjoying their afternoon. But she also knows that they need to find that sarcophagus soon and that she and Marc can't afford to be distracted.

They walk in silence, their hands dropping and leaving each with the feeling of a loss. The mood is more tense as they both look for where to start their search. Kat breaks off to ask many people about the sarcophagus but no one will answer her. Marc doesn't have much better luck.

Marc runs a frustrated hand through his hair, mussing it up and making curls fall messily in his face, “If one more person brushes me off..”

Kat nods her agreement, her own hopes dwindling as she is nowhere closer to finding the damn sarcophagus. The heat is growing suffocating and flies keep buzzing in her ears. The noises of the market that were a symphony to her before are now too loud and grating against her ears. Noises collide and crash against each other and rattle through her head with a returning headache. Having heightened senses is a blessing and a curse, at times like this, it is the worst curse ever.

“Hey,” Marc catches her attention over the distracting noise of the market, his brows furrowed in concern, “Are you okay? We can take a break.”

Kat had thought she was hiding her pain well, she was sure her face was masking her feelings. But Marc looks at her as if he can see all that she is hiding. It scares her, to have him see her, but it also brings with it the singe of thrill, the thrill of being known.

Kat gives Marc a small, strained, smile, shaking off his concern, “I’m fine, lets try one more.”

“Are you sure? We can stop..” Marc says hesitantly, his eyes darting over Kats face and noting the tension resting in her brows and the way her lips are stiff in a fake smile.

Kat shifts and looks away, not able to hold Marc's searching gaze. Her eyes fall on a man who is selling juice in the middle of the street, a large jug held in the supplies pack on his back as he shouts about the freshness of the drink.

“Let's try him.” Kat says, pointing to the man and walking away without looking back to see if Marc is following.

Pursing his lips, Marc nods and follows Kat over.

“I'll take one.” Marc tells the man, giving him a 10 pound note.

“Perfect, best juice in the world.” The man smiles, pouring the juice into a plastic bag, tying it, and poking a straw through in an expert rhythm.

The man hands it to Marc, who promptly offers it to Kat. She tentatively takes a sip and hums appreciatively as the cool juice caresses her dry throat, the tangy sweet drink is delicious and lifts her mood as she continues to drink greedily.

“Gods this is good.” Kat mutters to herself, smiling softly at Marc's huff of amusement.

“I'm looking for Senfus sarcophagus.” Marc says to the salesman, direct and to the point.

“Senfu?” The salesman questions, his smile dropping and being replaced with suspicion.

“Jesus christ Marc, you don't ask about it directly!” Kat hisses, smacking his arm reproachfully, “Honestly, it's like you've never done anything covert.”

“And you have?” Marc shoots back, not expecting Kat to react as she does.

He was only teasing, but the flash of guilt and fear that passes over Kats face has him wondering. Sure she has skills when it comes to fighting, but he thought most avatars would. But with each thing he uncovers about her, the more Marc wonders just what Kat was doing before they met.

“I-I…” Kat fumbles, trying to find a ‘not quite lie’ to give.

She doesn't want to lie to Marc, at least not directly, but he makes it so hard sometimes.

‘C’mon Katalya,’ Kat scolds herself mentally, ‘Say something, anything.’

But Marc is staring at her, waiting for an answer, and her heart is beating wildly against her ribcage, and everything feels like it is balanced on the edge of a blade. Her mouth is not working, her brain is dreadfully slow, her entire facade is trembling under his scrutiny.

Luckily, Kat is saved from having to say anything as another voice, British, appears from behind her.

“I hope you like attention.” Layla snarks, raising a brow at Marc before smiling at Kat and explaining, “Right place, right time, but neither of you are Egyptian.”

Kat stares at the woman. She had saved Steven from a jackal, fought said jackal despite not being able to see it, and now she has tracked her ex-husband down to Cairo. She’s amazing.

‘Oh crap.’ Kat realizes with a wince, ‘Layla and Marc were married, oh gods Katalya, what have you done?’

Layla is smirking smugly at Marc and Marc is frustrated, per usual.

“Layla, what the hell are you doing here?” Marc demands, “You shouldn't be here!”

“Why? Because my name pisses off a few people in Cairo?” Layla challenges, squaring her shoulders resolutely, “Who cares?”

“It's not the locals I'm worried about.” Marc mutters and Kat understands all too well what he means, seeing Konshue appear and disappear quickly behind Marc.

“Then what are you worried about?” Layla challenges, putting her hands on her hips and raising a brow at him.

“You should really tell her.” Kat says, glancing back at Layla who’s listening in.

“Tell me about what?” Layla demands, turning to Marc expectantly.

“You should really learn how to whisper.” Marc hisses, scowling at Kat, who has the decency to look slightly cowed.

“Nothing, it's nothing.” Marc says, turning to Layla and walking away, leaving Layla and Kat staring at his back.

Layla looks over to Kat with the face of a woman who has had to put up with this for awhile. Kat gives her smile that is more or a grimace than anything, and nods for them to follow Marc.

“So, you know how to find Senfus tomb?” Kat asks conversationally, tamping down the guilt she feels whenever she looks at Layla.

“I used to go to various black markets.” Layla explains with a nonchalant shrug, “I have some contacts I can use.”

Kat stares at Layla open mouthed, she just keeps getting cooler and cooler. She’s someone that just draws people in, god Kat wants to be her friend.

“You're so cool.” Kat breathes, slapping a hand over her mouth immediately, “Sorry, didn't mean to say that outloud.”

Layla laughs, a bright smile on her face as she looks at Kat and gestures to Marc, “I hope he hasn’t been too much of an idiot.”

“Nah, Marc’s been so well behaved, a perfectly proper princess.” Kat jokes.

“I heard that!” Marc shouts back at them, turning to give Kat a disapproving glare, “Stop gossiping about me.”

“Well we wouldn't have to gossip if SOMEONE would walk with us like a normal person.” Kat shouts back as Layla chuckles at her side.

Marc rolls his eyes and turns back around to continue walking, muttering under his breath. Kat snorts and sticks her tongue out at Marc's back. Childish, she knows, but effective nonetheless as it gets Layla to laugh again.

“He's such a baby sometimes, honestly.” Layla shares, bumping her shoulder into Kats, “I applaud you for putting up with him for so long.”

“Nothing to put up with,” Kat says, brushing off Layla's comment, “He's actually quite enjoyable, when he's not in a mood.”

Marc turns to say it but Kat beats him to it, saying, “Yes yes, you heard that. I know.”

Huffing Marc resumes leading them through the market.

“So you said you're a tour guide right?” Layla asks as they walk together.

Kats eyes narrow and she frowns, “I never told you that.”

Layla opens her mouth before closing and giving a sigh, relenting, “Yeah alright, I looked you up.”

“You looked me up?” Kat repeats incredulously, eyebrows raising.

“I had to make sure you weren't someone dangerous or someone who would hurt Steven or Marc, ya know?”

Gods does Kat know. She knows so well how Steven's soft hearted demeanor and clumsiness makes you want to protect him, to wrap him in an embrace of security and ensure he is never hurt. The way his horrible jokes and crooked smile that crinkles his eyes in that perfect way makes him so endearing and lovable.

‘Nope!’ Kat abruptly cuts off her thoughts and squeezes her eyes shut, ‘Not going down that path. His, well, Marc's, ex wife is literally right by you!’

Layla is still looking at Kat, waiting for her to respond.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Kat stutters lamely, cringing at herself, “Yeah. Sorry, I'm a bit tired.”

“Searching for black market leads can do that to you.” Layla teases with a good natured smile.

Laughing, Kat nods and rubs at her eyes. She really is very tired from the emotional whirlwind of the day. Her steps are harder to focus on and her eyelids are heavy, hard to keep open. Layla does most of the talking on the way back to the hotel, but Kat is content with that as it means she can focus on not falling asleep in the middle of the street.

Before she knows it, they have arrived at the entrance of the hotel and somehow Marc is suddenly by her side. Her eyes keep drooping closed and she sways on her feet, now that she’s aware of her tiredness it feels more pronounced than before. And, with the lack of adrenaline to keep her focused, Kat is struggling to stay awake.

“Hey,” Marc's voice cuts through the sleepy fog of her mind, his hands now around her waist as she leans against him, “Stay awake for a few more minutes, then you can nap.”

“Hmm” Kat hums, letting Marc guide her to the elevator as Layla snorts with amusement at her state.

The weight of Marc's arms are like a warm blanket, comfort and security. She leans back into Marc, unable to think too deeply about it. He smells of desert air and a musky cologne, Kat notes.

The ding of the doors opening brings Kat back to the present. Mark pulls Kat along the hallway, righting her when she trips over her feet and continuing to promise she can sleep if she just gets to the room first.

“Oh thank the gods.” Kat breaths as they finally enter the room and she flops onto the bed, not even bothering to remove her shoes.

Beside her, the mattress dips as Marc sits down on the bed, the only place to sit as Layla takes the only chair. Kat looks over at Marc, her cheek pressed into the pillow and her hair framing a halo around her head.

Beautiful, is the only way Marc can describe it. His breath is suddenly gone as Kat blinks sleepily at him with a lazy smile.

“Go to sleep.” Marc tells her, reaching out to touch her hair before pulling his hand back, thinking better of it. “Layla and I can take care of this.”

“Are you sure? I can help.” Kat insists, beginning to push herself up before Marc's hand on her back stops her.

“It's alright, get some rest.” Marc's voice is soft as Kat lowers back down, his smile becoming a teasing smirk, “You look like you need it, raccoon eyes.”

“Layla,” Kat groans, slightly muffled by the pillow, “Hit him for me, I'm too tired.”

The whack of a pillow hitting Marc's face and his affronted scoff brings a smile to Kat's face as her eyes slowly close. Soft voices float over her, but she pays them no mind as they become muddled and disappear as she slides into sleep.

“So, she's an avatar as well?” Layla speaks, making Marc jerk back as he realizes he was staring at Kats sleeping face.

“Yeah,” Marc clears his throat and faces Layla, “She's an avatar for Bastet.”

Layla looks at the sleeping woman with a small smile. looking back at where Marc has gone back to staring at her, his face softened, Layla's smile grows.

“She’s pretty.” Layla says casually, leaning back in the chair and smirking.

“Yeah.” Marc whispers before he abruptly becomes tense and still. Marc's head whips to Layla, his eyes widening before falling into a frown and changing the subject, “Who has Senfus sarcophagus?”

“Straight into business then.” Layla sighs, rolling her eyes and pulling out her laptop.

They spend the next hour researching, occasionally speaking but mostly in silence. Layla watches as Marcs eyes keep straying to Kats sleeping form, never straying far from her side.

It is an odd feeling. Marc’s her ex husband, she still loves him but whenever she sees the way he relaxes as Kat hums in her sleep, there is no sadness, only happiness for him. Perhaps it’s because of the months apart, or the anger she had been festering since he left, or maybe it’s because their whole relationship had been so fast paced.

“You like her.” Layla states, making Marc look up sharply from his phone.

“She's not as annoying as I thought.” Marc admits slowly, hedging around what he knows Layla meant.

Layla narrows her eyes at him, flicking her gaze to Kat and back, saying again with more meaning, “You like her.”

“Focus on finding the sarcophagus.” Marc demands, closing off and refusing to speak again.

Layla's words needle at him, prodding and poking at a wall he had built. The guilt that exists as a constant flood within him, rises and becomes a violent tide as he thinks over what Layla said. He glances back at Kat, his lips quirking into a soft smile against his will, and sighs as he can acknowledge that perhaps, maybe, Layla could possibly be right. Just a bit.

A few silent minutes later, a shift in the mattress and the muffled groans of pain brings Layla and Marcs attention to Kat. Her face is pinched, her brows drawn into a deep crease and her lip pulled into a whimpering frown. Her legs twitch and she shifts on the mattress as her voice becomes more distressed, curling into a tight protective ball.

“Hey,” Marc whispers, leaning over to shake Kats shoulder gently, “Hey, wake up.”

Kats words become louder, a strangled ‘No’ repeated over and over.

“Kat, kitty Kat,” Marc shakes her shoulder more roughly, urgently, “Wake up, you're dreaming.”

“Claire!” Kat gasps as her eyes fly open and she shoots up, bumping heads with Marc in the process.

Kat holds a hand to her hurt forehead and looks around wildly, gripping at the comforter tightly as her breaths heave from her ragged lungs. Her eyes land on Marc and she slowly calms down as she remembers where she is.

“It was just a dream,” Marc assures her, rubbing her back without thought, “Just a dream, you're okay.”

Clearing her throat and wiping at her eyes, Kat shifts away from Marc and draws her knees to her chest. Marc's hand falls to the mattress, a frown over his face before he covers it with a comforting smile.

“What, uh, what have you guys found?” Kat asks, her voice is rough from sleep and her arms tremble as they hold tightly to herself.

Layla exchanges a worried glance with Marc before answering, careful eyes trained on Kat as if waiting for her to shatter, “Nothing much, but I did remember a contact who might know something.”

“Right, yeah,” Kat mumbles, stretching out her arms and looking anywhere else, “Good, that's good.”

“Who's Claire?”

“Marc!” Layla shouts, hitting him on the arm reproachfully.

“What?” Marc asks, “She mentioned someone named Claire!”

“You don't just ask that!” Layla scolds, turning to Kat and saying softly, with curious eyes, “You don't need to tell us if you don't want to, but who is Claire?”

Kat gives a watery chuckle and shakes her head fondly at Marc's ineptness. Laying back, Kat keeps her eyes on the bland white painted ceiling as she speaks.

“Claire is my sister.” The words come out slow, forced and rough with unreleased emotion. Kat takes a deep breath and continues despite the warning bells screaming at her to stop talking, “She's basically the opposite of me.”

Kat's eyes close tightly against the burn of tears and memories. Faded voices, shouting and screams, pain in all forms. Words that echo around her mind and wrap around her throat, preventing her from saying any more.

“We don't talk anymore.” Kat finishes.

Layla and Marc don’t push for anymore as Kat falls silent. They look at each other and reach an unspoken agreement to watch over Kat. For the first time in a while, Kat doesn't feel the nausea that crops up whenever she speaks of her family, instead she feels just empty. It scares her, to no longer feel the emotions that had marked her memories for so long.

“I found the sarcophagus.” Layla announces after a few minutes of silent typing.

Kat blinks her eyes open and sits up, feeling refreshed surprisingly. Beside her, Marc glances at her from the corner of his eye, concern written over his face. Kat gives him a small smile and turns to Layla expectantly.

“It's with a friend of mine actually.” Layla tells them with a proud smile, clapping her hands together and standing, “I've set up a meeting for tonight. Which means we need to get dressed.”

Kat looks out the window and realizes that the sun has sunk low in the sky, bronze against the reddening sky. The city lights are slowly blinking on like fireflies coming out in the settling night. Marc's skin is glowing in the sun, bronze as a god and etched from marble. It takes Kats breath away and she cannot stop her staring, even when he rises and begins to move about the room.

“Do you have anything more…fancy?” Layla asks Kat, breaking her out of her trance.

“Uh…” Kat thinks about all that she'd packed and frowns when she comes up with nothing, “Only tank tops and jeans.”

Layla purses her lips and thinks, “Hmm, yeah, you might want something a bit different.”

“For god's sake, Layla,” Marc groans, rolling his eyes, “It's a black market meeting, there's no dress code-Ow!”

Kat smirks as Marc glares at her and rubs the back of his head where she had cuffed him.

“Thank you.” Layla tells Kat with a grin, turning to Marc she frowns, “Anton is big on appearances, it would be better if we at least fit in.”

Marc huffs and grabs a ball of clothes and goes to the bathroom to change while Layla pulls her own outfit from her bag. Kat begins to dig through her duffle, pulling out the least distressed pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt.

“The jeans, yes. Shirt, no.” Layla comments, eyeing Kats clothes as she pulls a lilac cardigan over herself.

“What's wrong with my shirt?” Kat asks, frowning down at the clothing in her hands as if it betrayed her.

Layla chuckles, amused, and begins to dig through her bag, pulling out a black tank top with a square neck with golden winding detailing and handing it to Kat, “Here, we're about the same size so this should fit.”

Kat ditches her t-shirt and pulls on the tank top, amazed at the softness of the fabric and the way it fits her almost perfectly, slightly too long at the bottom. She pulls on her dark stained jeans and creates a french tuck with the too long fabric of the top.

Layla looks her over appraisingly and gives a nod of approval, “You look great, Kat.”

“You too.” Kat smiles, taking in Layla's own outfit and the golden winged moon necklace Kat leans forward to inspect it closely, her grin widening as she realizes, “Is your necklace hidden knives?”

Laya nods and pulls the wings apart to reveal the sharp blades hidden within.

“That's so cool!” Kat squeals, excitement thrumming through her veins with anticipation.

“Right?” Layla grins, a bond of friendship budding between them. Abruptly Layla sobers, resting a hand on Kats shoulder and giving her a serious look, “I’m glad Marc has you.”

Kat stares at Layla, at a loss for words. How the hell are you even supposed to respond to something like that? Kats mind feels like the bloody hamster on a wheel video, running and running but going nowhere.

“Right, yeah, uhm…” Kat fumbles over her words, trying and failing to come up with a cohesive response. Finally settling on a weak, “Me too.”

Layla stares at Kat for a long moment, weighing her, before releasing a sigh of relief and moving to sit on the bed. Kat stays standing where she is, looking out the window and over Cairo. The golden hour of sunset basks her copper skin in warmth like brushes of a lover's fingers against her skin.

In her head, Kat runs over the plan for that night, much of which she doesn’t know.

‘Get on a boat, go to the island where this Anton dude lives, take sarcophagus.’

Not really a great plan in her opinion, there are too many variables unaccounted for, too many ways to go wrong. Although perhaps, Kat isn't the one to criticize others' plans, given that her entire plan for killing Steven fell apart from the moment she met him.

The reminder of her original intentions brings with it the sinking stone within her gut, weighing her down with its guilt. Then Kats heart jolts as she remembers the messages, the threats, the promises of hurt. The fact that someone is so intent on hurting Steven doesn't sit well with her. Whoever had been her employer, they are persistent, not really a good thing in this case.

A buzz from her phone brings Kat back to the moment.

“Why is someone texting you to ‘kill him’?” Layla asks.

Kat turns and realizes with a pained grimace that Layla had grabbed her phone and had seen the notification. Kat is just lucky that Layla can’t see the rest of the messages where they mention Steven by name.

“It's nothing.” Kat lies, grabbing the phone from Layla and angling it away from the woman as she opens the message.

It’s the same old stuff, the persistent insistence to finish the job, that she won't get paid if she doesn’t kill him, normal stuff. Honestly, the fact that this idiot hasn't taken her silence as a sign is impressively stupid.

“It didn't look like nothing.” Layla says slowly, raising a questioning brow at Kat.

Kat sighs and turns to Layla, pasting on a believable smile, “It's just an inside joke with some friends.”

“I didn't know you had friends.” Marc's voice teases as he steps out.

He's dressed in the regular black t-shirt and jeans with his army green jacket over top, a completely normal outfit yet it makes Kats brain short circuit. It seems that her own get up has the same effect on Marc, as he stares openly at her and runs his eyes over every inch of her outfit.

“Not everyones as emotionally constipated as you, Marc.” Kat finally speaks, her voice a bit more rough than before.

“You're one to talk.” Marc shoots back, a teasingness in his gravelly voice.

Kat gives a startled laugh and nods her ascent, an embarrassed flush coloring her cheeks. Layla looks between the two and almost wants to just smack their heads together to bring some common sense between them.

“You look good.” Marc says, his eyes trailing over her again, leaving a path of goosebumps in his gazes wake.

“Only good?” Kat questions, clearing her throat and masking the flusteredness with confidence, “Not beautiful? Magnificent? Goddess on earth?”

Marc huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, “Fine, yes. You look beautiful.”

Kat gives a proud smile and preens under the compliment. Marc is struck by how utterly cat-like Kat is, it's ridiculous how prideful she is from a simple truthful statement. Cute, but ridiculous.

“That's better.” Kat teases, glancing over Marc again and saying casually, “You look pretty good yourself.”

From her spot on the bed, Layla buries her head in her hands with a sigh. She’s going to have to lock these two in a bloody room before they make any actual moves.

Kats hand idly finds her way to her neck, frowning at the absence of the cool metal chain she almost always has on. She had left it in her flat in London, afraid she would lose it while chasing Harrow across the desert. Now her neck feels empty and cold.

“What's wrong?” Marc asks, glancing at where Kats hand trails at her neck then back up to her forlorn frown.

Kat sighs and shakes her head, “It's nothing, I just wish I had my necklace. It was a gift from an old friend and I feel naked without it.”

“Oh.” Marc says dumbly, unsure of what else to say.

The weight in his jacket pocket reminds him of earlier that day, and Marc's face lights up. Digging in his pockets, Marc grasps the cool metal and pulls it out.

“Turn around.” Marc requests, his voice a low timber in the almost silent room.

Kat crosses her arms and raises a brow at him, “Please?”

Marc rolls his eyes but gives in, adding, “Turn around, please.”

From the bed, Layla laughs and quickly turns it into a fake cough as Marc glares at her. Kat turns around and waits with curiosity. Behind her, she can hear Marc struggling with something, cursing under his breath. A jolt runs through her when the cool metal connects with her skin, a new weight settling just below her collarbone with a linked chain dragging back behind her neck, where Marc continues the struggle with what Kat now realizes is a necklace clasp.

“Why do they make these so damn small?” Marc huffs, attempting to open the clasp again as it snaps shut before he can connect the two ends.

“Scholars have been wondering that for years.” Kat jokes, reaching back to hold her hair up and out of the way.

When Marc finally gets the stupid chain connected, Kat looks down to see what it is that Marc has placed on her. A small, barely audible gasp escapes her lips as she recognizes the pendant hanging from the silver chain, the cat and moon details sparkling in the fading sun like magic.

“It's beautiful.” Kat whispers, her fingers tracing over the pendant as her eyes brim with tears.

Kat spins around and practically tackles Marc in a hug, her head finding its home in the crook between his shoulder and neck and her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Marc stumbles back at the impact but regains his footing and hesitantly returns the hug, his cheek lowering to rest on the crown of Kats head.

“Thank you.” Kat pulls back and gives Marc a brilliantly beaming smile, her eyes gleaming with something Marc cannot quite place.

Clearing his throat, Marc steps back and rubs at the back of his neck as he looks around the room, “You liked it in the market and I thought…. Never mind.”

“You thought right.” Kat insists, not willing to let Marc dismiss his words so easily, “I love it!”

A gentle, soft, smile crosses Marc's face. He nods modestly, afraid that if he were to say anything right now he would ruin everything.

Kat continues to stare at Marc as his face morphs back into its usual stoic sternness. Her chest feels warm and floaty and she clamps down her mouth, afraid she will blurt something she shouldn't.

“As adorable as this is,” Layla announces, clapping her hands and standing up, “We should really get moving. Anton is expecting us in an hour.”

With the reminder of Layla's presence, Kats cheeks flush and her smile dims as guilt rises in her throat. A sick feeling that feels like a well worn collar around her throat.

‘Gods I have no shame!’ Kat scolds herself mentally, ‘Grinning like a lovesick fool in front of his ex wife!’

Kat knows how feelings linger after a separation, she knows that Layla still cares for Marc, and yet here she is being the monster she despises. The reminder of her transgressions cues the chanting mantra that follows her like a faithful dog, never leaving or receding.

‘Monster, monster, monster…’

“Right, let's go.” Marc decides, grabbing his phone and holding out a bottle of water to Kat, who he had noticed had gone pale.

Kat takes the water, cautious to avoid touching Marc's hand. Her eyes remain downcast, sullen as her mind continues to wander down the dark paths that haunt her dreams. A buzz in her pocket sounds. Opening her phone, Kat feels her stomach drop.

It’s another message, simple and to the point.

‘Do not make me involve Claire in this.’

That is all it says, nothing more.