To Love and Blood

Kat stands on the dock, waiting for the boat to arrive. The spray of the sea tickles her face in its teasing manner, her chestnut hair blowing in the salty wind. The black leather jacket around her shoulders does little to stave off the chill of the water and the wind.

Beside her people talk loudly, happy voices on the wind as they celebrate. Layla had apparently chosen a party boat. Not very conspicuous but it will have to do. Marc and Layla were speaking together in low voices. Kat pulls her jacket tighter around her as if that would shield her from the stupid pang of jealousy that she has no right to feel.

“Marc, pull your head out of your arse and go over to her.” Layla hisses lowly, glancing over at Kat.

Marc scoffs and turns away, focusing on the outline of the approaching boat in the water's dark waves.
Marc had seen Kats face drop earlier in the hotel after looking at her phone. He had asked her what was wrong but she had brushed it off and has been ignoring him ever since.

That fact that Kat doesn’t want to talk about it, Marc can respect that, he does the same so often. But the worry that Kat doesn’t trust him, that she feels that she can't talk about whatever is bothering her, that makes his stomach twist uncomfortably and a frown become fixed on his face.

The cheers of people as the boat docks in front of them draws Marc from his thoughts. A simple white boat bathed in blue and purple colored lights, a small cheap disco ball hangs from the room and reflects spots of brilliant light on the oak stained wooden seats and deck.

The party group steps on, with Layla and Marc behind them. Kat stays standing on the dock, eying the vessel reproachfully, not making any move to board.

“Why Are you standing there? Get on the boat.” Marc says, holding out a hand to help Kat.

Kats nose wrinkles in distaste as she eyes the boat and the water it floats on, “I don't really like boats all that much, or water for that matter.”

“You're scared of a little water?” Marc asks incredulously, raising a brow at Kat.

“A little?” Kat glares at Marc and gestures to the lake, “This, Marc Spector, is more than a ‘little water’.”

Marc sighs and looks back at the island in the distance, their destination is one you can only reach by boat. Turning back to Kat, Marc steps off the boat and directly in front of Kat, making it so he is all she can see.

“It will be okay, it's just a short boat ride and then we're on land again.” Marc promises, voice low as he leans closer, “There's nothing to be afraid of, I promise.”

Kat looks deep into Marc's eyes, her gaze flitting briefly to his lips before hurriedly dashing back up to his eyes, “Okay.”

Kat takes a deep breath and grabs Marc's outstretched hand, following him onto the boat and carefully stepping over the small gap between boat and dock. Her gaze becomes fixed on the water visible through the gap, she becomes frozen. Until a squeeze of her hand and a tug of her arm has Kat looking back up to Marc and following him fully onto the rocking boat.

Kat follows Marc over to where Layla sits waiting on a bench. Kat quickly settles next to Layla and offers the woman an apologetic smile for holding them up. Marc sits across from them, elbows resting on his knees and leaning forward slightly as his eyes linger on Kat.

“So, what's up with you and water?” Layla asks, adding a quick, “If you don't mind me asking.”

Kat looks around the boat, taking in the people celebrating and the gentle sway of the boat that feels more ominous than anything.

With a deep sigh that spells out long since buried memories, Kat speaks.

“When I was a kid I lived in a house by the sea, the Iroise sea,” Kat pauses before continuing, “I uh, I lived there with my mom, father, and sister. We would go to the beach all the time…” Kat swallows and tries to ignore the rocking of the waves, “One day, my father, he… I was held underwater for too long.”

It doesn't go amiss over Marc that Kat skipped over the entire chunk of the story to explain how she had gotten underwater in the first place.

“Long story short, I don't exactly get along with water anymore.”

Marc and Layla are silent, making Kat shift uncomfortably as she waits for someone to say something, anything, and dispel the tension hanging in the air. Layla is looking at her wth sympathy that Kat does not think she deserves. But it is Marc's expression that catches her eye, one of connection and understanding that makes Kat wonder what the man has lived through.

“I don’t..I don’t enjoy water either.” Marc shares, clearing his throat to dispel the lump that has taken up residence there.

A smile crosses Kats face, short and disappearing quickly, but there nonetheless. A feeling of connection ties them together, and while the rest of the world may not understand their distaste for water, Marc and Kat know they have each other. It's a simple small effect of community but one that creates such comfort in its presence.

Marc head snaps to the side, clearly hearing Steven saying something, before dismissing himself and leaving Laya and Kat next to each other. Kats eyes follow Marc as he goes before quickly snapping down to the floor when she feels Layal watching her.

Layla opens her mouth then closes it, warring on how to say what she wants too. Honestly there is no easy way to even begin to talk about what pokes at her mind.

“Kat,” Layla begins, pausing and finally deciding to just push on, “Kat, you know that Marc and I are divorced, yeah?”

A sinking feeling invades Kats stomach as she slowly nods.

“We divorced a few months ago,” Layla continues, “and before that we were married for a couple of years.”

The sinking feeling becomes more apparent as dread coils in Kats gut. Guilt spreads through her and an apology forms on her lips, for what she's not sure. She hasn't acted on anything, but still she feels the need to apologize to Layla. But Layla speaks first.

“I'm not telling you this to shame you.” Layla holds up a hand to stop Kats words, continuing in a gentle tone, “I see the way you look at him, and how he looks at you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kat interjects, unsure of what to feel. Part of her wants to protest, to deny Layla's words and carry on with her ignorance, but she can't lie to Layla. So Kat says nothing more.

Layla sighs and purses her lips as she thinks over her words carefully, speaking slowly, “Marc and I had some good years together, we were so in love…”

Layla trails off with a happy sigh as remembrance fills her gaze and her eyes become wistful.

“But there were things Marc wouldn't talk to me about, I mean, he kept a whole other personality from me!” Layla frowns over at where Marc is arguing with Steven in the water's reflection, “It was like he was never fully there, never fully with me.”

Kat nods, understanding what Layla was saying. Her brows furrow as a confused frown forms.

“I hope he can be open and honest with you.” Layla finishes, giving Kat a gentle smile and squeezing her shoulder.

Marc walks back over and sits down, running a hand over her tired face, effectively ending Kat and Laylas conversation.

Kat has many questions she wants to ask Layla, the first being ‘What the hell does that mean?’ and the second being ‘Am I hallucinating?’

But she can't ask those and so instead Kat stays silent and mulls over what Layla told her. Her eyes stray to Marc, bathed in the purples of the boat's lights and the sparkle of the water's reflection against his stoney face. He looks like he is bothered by something, something he won’t tell Kat or Layla. Perhaps Layla's hope is for naught, perhaps Marc feels no more comfortable sharing his secrets with her than he had with his wife. Still, Kat can't deny that their secretiveness is what binds them together, a shared understanding of silence and the importance of it.

“So what exactly are we going to do here? What's the plan?” Marc speaks into the silence, looking between Layla and Kat.

“Oh? It's not pleasant being left in the dark, is it?” Layla jabs, an underlining venom in her voice that speaks to the worry she had been put through because of Marc's choices.

Kat cringes and goes to stand, quietly saying, “I feel like I'm not needed here for this…”

“I get that you're not happy about me leaving so quickly and coming to Cairo, okay?” Marc sighs frustratedly, a vaguely apologetic look on his face, “I understand.”

Despite her mind telling her to just get up and leave, Kat sits back down. Her curiosity winning out, and honestly she kinda wants to see Layla eat him alive.

“Wait, is that your apology?” Layla's voice raises with incredulity, her brows shooting up and her mouth twisting into a mocking smile, “That's good, that's really good.”

Marc looks to Kat for help, but she just shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. Kat isn't dumb enough to get in the middle of this. Plus, Layla’s right, it was a really bad apology.

Marc scowls at Kat as if she has fatally betrayed him. Turning back to Layla, Marc huffs a tired sigh, asking, “Just so we can get through tonight, maybe lets just give our stuff a rest for a moment and try to strategize before we get to..”

Marc's face falls into concentration as he tries to remember the name. Luckily for him, Kat has an excellent memory.

“Morgart.” Kat fills in helpfully, “Anton Morgart.”

“Such a stupid name.” Marc mutters, staring at the floor.

“Just so you know,” Layla interjects, crossing her arms and glaring at Marc, “I'm not here to help you. I'm here for me and everyone else who would die if Harrow succeeds.”

“Copy that.” Marc says, looking back up with softer eyes, “I am sorry, for whatever it's worth.”

‘Oh god, his puppy eyes are as good as Stevens!’ Kat bemoans mentally.

Those large brown eyes, not as unsure and shy as Stevens, but just as revealing and impactful. Both Steven and Marc have that ‘kicked puppy’ pleading look to their eyes that makes you want to assure them that they did nothing wrong. Kat hasn't noticed it before, but Marc and Steven are remarkably similar in some aspects.

“So this morgart guy’s really gonna have the sarcophagus?” Marc breaks the silence.

“Yes, I asked around.” Layla answers stiltedly, “Morgarts collection is prime gossip for those of us who deal in antiquities.”

The air is static and tense, hanging heavy and only being pushed further by the happy yells from the partiers nearby. Kat shifts in her seat, grimacing as nobody says anything. Marc is looking at Layla sadly and Layla's face is turned away, unwilling to face Marc. Clearing her throat, Kat stands and makes a weak excuse of ‘getting a water bottle.’ despite the one she still holds that Marc had given her before, and shuffles away.

To get to the other side of the boat, Kat squeezes through the group of dancing people, brushing against the fabric of a woman's dress and accidentally bumping into the back of a man in a brown jacket and polo.

“Sorry.” Kat apologizes, going to continue pushing through the crowd when a hand lands on her shoulder.

Turning, Kat sees an elderly short woman with long greying hair smiling at her. She wears a long purple dress with a shawl across her and gold rings decorating her fingers. The woman smiles invitingly at Kat and pulls her further into the circle of dancing.

The wooden board beneath Kats feet vibrates with the booms of the music and the shuffle of feet. The music is lively and exciting, urging Kat to move with its beat. The woman starts to dance, moving her arms out and capturing Kats hands in hers and pulling Kat along as the woman moves her feet to the beat.

Kat watches the women's movements closely and slowly begins to replicate them. She copies the woman as she moves her feet back and forth, stepping to the side in between and lets her arms be pulled in every which way by the old woman. Kats movements are awkward and clumsy in the unfamiliar pattern, but the woman only laughs and continues to guide Kat along.

Soon Kat is laughing to the night sky as she spins about, tripping occasionally and smiling as she lets the rhythm take over. Her mind is gone, her thoughts of Claire and the fear that had been struck into her slips away, and all that remains is the beat of the music and the movement of her body as she dances. The purple lights create a dizzying effect as the old woman spins Kat over to another dancer who eagerly invites Kat to dance with them as well.

Over on the bench, Marc watches Kat with a soft smile. Her laughter that echoes over the waters is a melodious caress in his ears. He can't help but laugh as Kat trips over her own feet for the ninth time, so graceful in a fight but clumsy when dancing. Marc absently wonders if Kat would dance with him if he asked, if she would laugh as she is now while he guides her in the movements.

The old woman lets out a zargharits, a vibrating whoop that reminds Marc of the past. The smile falls from his face as he turns to look at Layla, who is turned away and watching Kat as well. Her curls shine in the light and her lips are quirked in a smile.

“I haven't heard that sound since our wedding.” Marc comments, nodding to the woman who has now pulled Kat back into a different dance.

Layla smiles softly, nostalgia filling her, before a sadness fills her eyes, “You could have told me, you know, what it's been like for you. About Steven.”

Marc nods, saying, “For what it's worth, I had it under control until very recently.”

“What happened?”

Marc shifts in his seat and stares out at the sea, jaw clenched, “Doesn't matter.”

“We could have handled it together.” Layla insists with a frustrated frown.

“That's not really what I do, is it?” Marc sighs, regretfully, “Never really been able to just.. Talk about everything.”

Layla gives a small chuckle, “Anything real, you mean?”

Marc nods, a small smile on the corners of his mouth as he and Layla finally come to an understanding.

“I know, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't have.” Layla says, her brows furrowed.

“Yeah.” Marc breathes, the guilt and regret wrapping around him, “Bit late for that now.”

The thumping of the music and the chatter of the people partying is the only sound. The waves rush against the boat and recede away, the moon glows above, and all is fine. Kats giggles bring Marc's eyes back to her.

Her mouth is open in a wide grin as her head is tossed back in laughter, her hair coming loose from her ponytail and flowing down her back in waves of chocolate brown. Her arms are raised above her head as she flicks her wrists and sways with the music.

Layla gives a heavy sigh and leans forward to whisper to Marc, hissing, “Look, you and I may have not worked out, but if you don't open up and stop being so stupid about feelings then you'll just push Kat away like you did me.”

“What?” Marc chokes, apparently unaware of the obvious lovesick expression he has whenever he's looking at Kat.

“She's nice and a great person,” Layla levels Marc with a warning glare, “don't mess this up and hurt her.”

“I would never hurt Kat.” Marc insists, offended at the mere suggestion.

“Maybe not on purpose.”

Marc stares after Layla as she goes and grabs Kat. He continues to stare as Layla and Kat walk back over and sit across from him, talking to each other with friendly smiles. Kats breaths are heavy as she wipes at the trickle of sweat that trails down her forehead.

“So, what's our story?” Kat asks, breathless and with amusement lingering in her voice like a lilt, “Any chance we can just ask for it?”

“Ask for it?” Marc repeats, raising a dubious brow, “What, just say ‘Hey we need this dead guy so we can save the world.’?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Marc laughs, shaking his head, “That’s the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard.”

“Oh like you're any better?” Kat challenges, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

“I am.” Marc teases in that low rough voice of his.

Kat scoffs, amusement glinting in her eyes as she leans forward, “Yeah? What about the whole plan of leaving me behind in London? How'd that work out hmm?”

“Well I didn't expect you to be some kind of master tracker.”

Layla watches the two with a smile. They had leaned close in their arguing and their faces are now inches apart, practically breathing the same air. Marc's eyes are alive and amused in a way that Layla has not seen in some time. She’s surprised to notice that she feels no jealousy, no ill will. It would make sense if she did, in fact, Layla thinks she should be feeling that. But there’s nothing but happiness for Marc.

Perhaps it's because she has watched him suffer with burdens he would not tell her for so long, the ones that had dimmed his eyes and deepened the creases of his face. She hadn't been able to help him, she couldn't do anything if he wouldn't let her. Layla just hopes that Marc does better with Kat.

She has grown to like Kat. Layla thinks Kat is clever and skilled, and most importantly, she challenges Marc.

Rifling through her backpack, Layla pulls out two passports and two simple rings, handing one to both Marc a Kat.

“Your name,” Layla tells Marc, “is Ruffino Estrada.”

Marc glares at Kat as she muffles a giggle behind her hands.

“And yours,” Layla turns to Kat, “is Marguerite Estrada.”

A low chuckle comes from Marc and Kat sticks her tongue out at him. She opens her passport and looks at the description. It’s mostly true, she is French, but it says she’s from Paris and that she is 34. Slightly younger than the 36 she truly is.

“Now, you two are newly weds,” Layla explains, handing them the rings which they both put on, “and you just got back from your honeymoon in the Maldives.”

Kat's eyes widen as she looks to Marc and gauges his reaction. His brow is furrowed and he looks like he wants to protest, but keeps his mouth shut. A pain clenchs at Kats heart, she isn't thrilled with being newlyweds but she’s not THAT against it.

The island draws nearer, bringing with it the whinny of horses and the clap of wood against wood. The boat shakes as it docks, making Kat groan and squeeze her eyes tightly shut as her hands clench into tight fists.

The plank lowers with a thud and Kat hesitantly opens her eyes. Marc is standing in front of her, his hand stretched out for her to take. He's giving her a small understanding smile that grows as Kat takes his hand and rises on shaky legs. With Layla leading them, Kat and Marc step off the boat and follow her, looking around at the island.

The island is lit by torched and flood lights that shine on a dirt covered field surrounded by gates and banners. Inside, horses run around with men riding them and shouting commands, sticks waving in the air as they hit at each other. There are two glass triangles, reminiscent of the ones Kat saw at The Louvre. She can guess that that is where Senfus sarcophagus is.

“This guy’s got a lot of friends.” Marc notes, watching the sport with a veiled look of annoyance.

“Yeah, a lot with guns.” Layla says, giving Marc a warning glare.

Kat looks around, her eyes catching on the small canoe steeped in shadow that floats idly in the water, slowly growing closer.

“Looks like we got some friends.” Kat points to the boat.

“Harrows men keeping tabs?” Layla asks in a low whisper.

Marc frowns, “I don't know, it could be.”

“It definitely is.” Kat mutters, “Harrow just can't stay away. He must have a lot of FOMO.”

“You did not just say FOMO.” Marc groans, leaning his head back.

Kat scoffs and lightly shoves Marc's shoulder, bringing a smirk to his lips as he shoves back.

“Ahem.” Layla coughs to grab their attention, subtly nodding to the tall man in an impeccable black suit walking towards them.

Kat and Marc quickly grow serious as the man comes closer. The man is large with defined muscles, a body guard if Kat had to guess by the standard issue gun strapped to his waist and the small bruises smattering his knuckles where they hang at his sides. His eyes scan them as he smiles warmly at Layla.

“Bek.” Layla greets, a friendly smile on her lips, “It's been awhile.”

“Good to see you.” Bek says, beckoning Layla forward, “Right this way.”

As they walk, Kat notices the tension in Marc's frame and pokes him to grab his attention, giving a comforting smile while taking his hand in hers. To play the part of ‘married couple’ of course, no other reason.

“He's looking forward to seeing you.” Bek tells Layla, coming to a stop outside the fences that circle the arena, “After Madripoor I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

“What,” Kat cuts herself off, coughs and resumes speaking with an overly accented French voice, “What happened in Madripoor?”

Kat feels Marc's elbow poke at her ribs in a reprimand for bringing attention to them. But Kat keeps an innocent smile on her face and looks expectantly at Bek, who is sizing her up curiously.

“Tu parle francaise?” Bek asks with the fluent tongue of one comfortable in many languages.

“Oui, j'habite à Paris.” Kat replies cooly.

Marc is currently fighting to keep his expression under control, he is failing. The sound of smooth french spilling from Kats practiced lips is like honey on a summer evening. It’s music and strikes something in Marc. Clearing his now dry throat, Marc hurriedly looks away and tries to focus on anything else.

“It is nice to speak with another frenchman.” Bek says, “What is your name?”

“Marguerite,” Kat smiles, offering her hand to shake, “Marguerite Estrada, and this is my husband Ruffino.”

Marc nods, staying silent and watching with careful eyes as Bek takes Kats hand and places a kiss upon her knuckles. A flickering of flames lights in his chest at the interaction, an unexplainable anger. Looking over at the glass nearby, Marc sees a similar emotion on Stevens face.

“Mr. Morgart will be with you shortly.” Bek says, then leaves to assist Morgart.

“Well he's nice.” Kat mutters, watching Bek walk away as she subtly wipes her hand on her jeans, “So this Morgart guy, pretty rich huh?”

Marc scoffs and rolls his eyes, gesturing to the sport being played in the ring, “So what? This joker puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard for fun?”

“Maybe he's compensating.” Kat leans over and whispers to Marc with a smirk.

Marc chokes on a laugh, “Solid theory, kitty Kat.”

“He gets private lessons from the best in his backyard.” Layla corrects as Kat rolls her eyes at Marc's nickname.

Kat spots a man in low hanging pants and no shirt walking towards them. A rich red robe that he wears does nothing to cover his chest which is unfairly muscular. His hair is what Kat deems ‘average douchebag style’ a rounded bowl style with fringe swept to the side. He's talking with Bek as he walks, a smile revealing the perfect teeth and cocky attitude.

“Is that him?” Kat whispers so only Layla and Marc can hear, her nose wrinkling as she looks at Morgart, “He looks like a douchebag. Can't we just kill him and take the sarcophagus?”

“Kat!” Layla scolds, shooting the woman a warning look, “We're not murdering him.”

“I'm just saying, it would be easier…”

“No.” Marc interjects, looking at Kat with surprise at her suggestion, “We're not killing anyone.”

“Layla!” Morgarts voice rings as he approaches, arms open in a welcoming gesture, “Such a delight to see you.”

Morgart bends down to kiss Layla's hand and straightens to give her a winning smile, “How have you been?”

“Good.” Layla responds with a pasted smile, “Thank you for having us over on such short notice.”

All the pleasantries make Kat shift on her feet. The normalcy makes anticipation buzz and the itch for movement start under Kat's skin. The only thing keeping Kat in place is Marc's hand in hers, keeping her close to him and grounded in this moment.

“This is my friend Margaret and her husband Ruffino.” Layla introduces them, bringing Morgarts’ attention to Kat and Marc.

“Nice to meet you.” Marc mutters, low and hard to hear.

“Pleasure.” Morgart returns cooly, glancing over Marc before focusing on Kat, “It is all my pleasure.”

Kat keeps her face neutral but her guts twist inside. Her eyes keep dropping to Morgarts uncovered chest and back to his smug eyes.

“Could you please close the robe? I'm uncomfortable with all…” Kat gestures vaguely at Morgarts whole body, “This.”

Morgarts eyes narrow for a split ‘blink and you miss it’ second, before his face relaxes into a charming smile. Behind Morgart, Layla has her head buried in her hands and is miming for Kat to zip her lips.

“Of course.” Morgart answers, tying the robe shut, though it's not by much, and begins leading them to where the tall glass triangle glows with yellow light.

Kat and Marc follow as Morgart and Layla talk ahead of them, Bek brings up the rear with his hand too close to his weapon for Kats comfort. As they walk, Kat takes the time to look around at all the antiques of display. The idea of slipping a small artifact into her pocket crosses her mind as she gazes at the real Sceptre of Dagerbert. It had been missing for so long and Kat wouldn't mind having a bit of extra decoration.

“Don't even think about it.” Marc whispers next to Kat’s ear, a knowing smirk on his face as he pulls her away from the sceptre and after Morgart and Layla.

“I wasn't going to do anything.” Kat pouts, frowning and kicking at the dirt.

“Let's pretend I believe that.”

Ahead of them, Morgart slows down to allow them to catch up and begins speaking to them all, “I hope you understand, this is more than a collection to me. Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously.”

Kat and Marc find matching faces of doubt on each other.

“Are you sure we can't just cut his head off and leave?” Kat whispers, glancing back at Bek to make sure he isn't near enough to hear.

Marc gives Kat an incredulous look and shakes his head sternly, walking forward to join Layla.

“Guess that's a no.” Kat mutters to herself with a huff, kicking at the dusty ground as she catches up to the group.

They arrive at the base of the glass triangle, inside which Kat can see Senfus sarcophagus. It's so close, the only thing between them is Morgart and his many armed guards.

“If I may ask,” Morgart says, turning to Marc and Kat, “why such interest in Senfu in particular?”

Kat quickly steps forward with a winning gentile smile, “We are just such history buffs, our purchases are-”

“Actually,” Morgart cuts Kat off, turning meaningfully to Marc, challengingly, “I'd like to hear from your husband if you don't mind.”

‘Actually I mind quite a lot, douchebag.’ Kat thinks to herself sullenly.

But she cannot say anything like that, not when they're so close to getting what they need. So Kat steps back and allows Marc to speak, staying silent and keeping her smile in place.

“Um,” Marc hums, not really saying anything and Kat is sure that if she could see inside his head it would just be a blank loading screen.

“Ruffino, darling,” Kat leans against Marc's shoulder, playing up the role of a loving wife, “answer his question, honey.”

Marc rolls his eyes at Kats overly lovey dovey acting, thinking quickly to scrounge up something to say.

“I think that…” Marc begins, clearing his throat as he trails off, “I think that I would just love to take a look.”

‘Oh my gods.’ Kat mentally screams.

Welp, neither Steven nor Marc can lie apparently, they are completely screwed. Kat catches Layla's eye and they share a cringe of pain at Marc's words. Morgart gives Marc an unimpressed look, but says nothing about it.

“Please, feel free to take a look.” Morgart smirks, stepping aside and gesturing for them to go in the glass triangle.

Layla, Marc, and Kat exchange wary glances, unsure of if this is a trap. Kat is the first to move, walking up the steps and through the open doorway. She can feel Bek watching her every move, she can feel Marc watching Bek watching her.

Kats gaze travels around the glass room as Marc and Layla follow in after her. First her eyes stray to the pointed ceiling and then to the masks hung on the walls, Kat recognizes them as previously stolen artefacts that would be worth a pretty penny now. Then her eyes finally land on the main event.

“Oh my gods!” She squeals, rushing up to run her hands over the sarcophagus reverently, “This is Senfus sarcophagus, this is so cool!”

It's like a child on christmas day. Kats curiosity and joy lights up her face as babbling facts about Senfu falls from her lips. Her eyes adeptly scan the hieroglyphs painted on the tomb and the portrait of Osiris on the bottom of the lid, a common ritual believed to help guide the dead into the afterlife.

“You're just as bad as Steven.” Marc quips dryly from her side, smiling as Kats smile grows wider as she turns to him.

“I've never been able to get this close to a sarcophagus.” Kat explains, quickly turning back to the tomb as if afraid it would somehow disappear, “It's the most beautiful thing in the world.”
“Nah, not the most beautiful.” Marc disagrees, his eyes trailing over every detail of Kat's face.

Kat turns to ask Marc what he means and finds him acting very interested in the mummy below. Layla sighs and shakes her head at the two.

“Please, just let Steven out before you blow this.” Layla pleads with Marc.

“Not a chance.” Marc says resolutely, shaking his head, “We've got you and Kat, what do you see?”

Kat preens under the compliment and leans forward to get a better look, her fingers trailing lightly over the linen wrappings and the edges of the sarcophagus.

“Well the burial practices are lined with studenwach texts.” Layla observes slowly.

“The what?” Marc asks, brows drawn together in utter confusion.

“They’re funerary texts,” Kat supplies, continuing to study the coffin, “to help connect the spirit of a person to be preserved in the afterlife. In the old kingdom they were reserved for kings only, although towards the end of the period they appear on the tombs of the royal wives. An interesting fact is-”

“The tomb’s legit.” Layla interrupts, “But there's no indication of a location.”

Kat is about to add something when Marc abruptly looks up to the glass panes, listening. Steven, Kat guesses. He’s probably doing some kind of genius revelation thing right now, Kat wishes she could hear it.

“Will you give me a minute?” Marc asks them, explaining, “I gotta talk to Steven. Just keep Morgart occupied.”

Kats' disappointment at having to leave the sarcophagus rises with each step. She just hopes she'll be this close to another one someday. Layla and Kat turn and begin to walk out when Marc speaks again.

“Ka- Marguerite, I might need another pair of hands.” Marc calls to them.

Kat looks at Layla who shrugs and gestures for Kat to go on. Barely containing her excitement, Kat practically skips back over to Marc's side and continues looking at the mummy in wonder.

“Alright Steven, you wanna talk to me?” Marc whispers, looking up to the glass, “Talk to me now.”

Based on the frown framing Marc's face, Kat would guess that Steven is not cooperating. She can’t blame him, he had found out he’s sharing a body with a whole other person and now is locked in the passenger seat and doomed to just watch everything. It must be terrifying.

“Damn it!” Marc hisses to the reflection, “There's no time for this. Tell me if there's something you know.”

Marc listens to Steven and gives a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his dark hair and looks to Kat imploringly.

Taking her cue, Kat clears her throat and looks to where she thinks Steven may be, “Steven? We need your help, please?”

Beside her, Marc frowns at whatever Stevens says, muttering, “I didn't bring her here.”

“Steven,” Kat interrupts, “people's lives depend upon this, help us decode this and I promise I will make Marc give you back the body for a while, deal?”

“No way in hell am I letting Steven out in this mess.” Marc disagrees, glaring at Kat with offence.

“Yes, you will. Now shut up and let Steven help.”

Marc mutters under his breath, and looks back up at Steven, listening before turning to translate for Kat, “He says to look at the cartonnage.”

“Of course!” Kat exclaims, smacking her forehead.

Kat gently edges her fingers beneath the painted funeral mask on the mummy and pries it up, revealing delicate age worn dark papers beneath. Pulling out the papers with careful hands, Kats mouth drops.

“It's a puzzle.” Kat breathes, a smile slowly crossing her face, “Clever boy, Senfu.”

“A puzzle?” Marc repeats, eyeing the papers.

“Mhm.” Kat hums, looking up to the reflection in the ceiling, “How do I put it together Steven?”

Marc listens for a moment before instructing her, “Take the first piece and fold it over the middle piece..”

Kat does as he says, taking care to keep the folds soft so as not to rip the ancient papers. As she does so, Kat explains to Marc that this puzzle is more of a map when put together correctly. Marc listens and nods along, occasionally adding things when Steven speaks.

The air is tense, both Marc and Kat actively aware of Morgart and Bek just outside. They move quickly and bait their breath that no one comes in. Unfortunately, they are unaware of Bek entering behind them until his hand is on Marc and Marc has already reacted instinctively.

He turns and grabs Bek's gun from him and points it at Bek in a quick flash, dark brows drawn in an intimidating glare. Beside him, Kat has dropped into a fighting stance with her hands raised and ready to strike.

“Marc, don’t!” Layla shouts, struggling against the bodyguards that now hold her.

Marc's expression drops, eyes darting around at all the bodyguards with guns aimed right at Kat and him. They're surrounded. With a defeated sigh, Marc gives Bek his gun back and doesn't fight as Bek grabs him by the arm and pulls him outside. Another tall man does the same with Kat, though unlike Marc, Kat makes her irritants and ire well known by insulting everything she can about the man, right down to the way he ties his shoes.

“And you really need to lay off the Axe bodyspray. What are you, a middle school boy?” Kat sneers.

She only has a moment to clench her jaw and press her tongue to the roof of her mouth before a fist collides with her cheek, the rings the man’s wearing cutting shallow marks into the flesh. Beside her, Marc shouts something but Kat is too busy trying to blink away the stars in her eyes to pay much attention.

“You punch like a five year old.” Kat continues, smirking as the man decides he's had enough and shoves her into the grasp of another bodyguard.

“Do you really think I'm an idiot?” Morgart asks, pacing in front of them, his red robe swishing around him like a cape. Very ‘evil villain-esque’.

“I mean, kinda yeah.” Kat answers honestly, catching Marc's glare, “What? He asked!”

“Dean.” Morgart instructs the guard holding Kat.

The guard shoves Kat down roughly to her knees, twisting her arm uncomfortably behind her back. Kat hisses at the unnatural position but bites back any other sounds, she will give these idiots no such satisfaction.

“Anton, stop!” Layla pleads, looking over at Kat with distress.

Anton ignores her, instead ordering, “Get on your knees.”

Slowly, Marc and Layla lower themselves to their knees, hands raised to show that they are no threat. Marc's eyes keep trailing over to where Kat quietly seethes and looks at Morgart with murder gleaming in her eyes.

“Don’t.” Marc warns quietly, catching Kats eye and subtly shaking his head.

Kat narrows her eyes but does nothing else. Her eyes close as she breathes through her nose and lets the feeling of air expanding her lungs calm her, remind her she's alive. Morgarts’ men are all around them, there is no way for Marc or Kat to ‘Suit up’, and Kats cheek is beginning to throb. With her eyes closed, Kat listens to the conversation around her.

“Layla,” Anton says her name so condescendingly, “I was so ready to make peace with you.”

“You don't understand,” Layla pleads, “we're trying to save many lives!”

“Men like him don't care about lives, Layla.” Kat scoffs, blinking her eyes back open and fixing them blankly on Morgart.

“I care about lives,” Morgart smirks smarily, the kind of smile that makes Kat want to spit in his face, “but only ones helpful to me.”

Marc’s surprised to see Kats face remain neutral, uncaring. He had expected her brows to dip into a harsh glare at Morgarts words, but instead her face and eyes remain blank and passive. It worries him slightly.

“Any last words?” Morgart asks, his face settling into resolve.

Marc's gaze falls on Kat, his mouth moving against his will as he speaks, “Kat, I- I’m glad you came after me. I need to tell you, I-”

Clapping interrupts Marc words. The sound cutting Marc off and making him glare at Morgart, who looks down at him with faux pity.

“Ah, very touching.” Morgart says, “But unfortunately your time is up.”