- Jake
“I’m coming!”
The rapping at the door stops immediately.
“Layla? He’s here!” She doesn’t answer so you peer your head up the stairs and call again. “Layla!”
“Just let him in! I’ll be down in a moment.”
You roll your eyes but stomp down the corridor to open the door. “Hi Marc.”
Except it’s not Marc. Not-Marc nods, his eyes hidden under a flat cap and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “Evening.” Definitely not Marc.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Come in, you can wait for her here, or I can make you something? Water? Coffee?”
Not-Marc steps into your hallway and peers at the space. It’s odd, like you’re being judged on your decorating skills but eventually his eyes turn back to you and he shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
Alright then. There is something about him that is unsettling, like he’s wearing the wrong sized clothes or the wrong sized skin. He looks almost as uncomfortable as you feel. Layla is still puttering about upstairs, probably cleaning the entire bathroom with a toothpick, so you lean against the wall opposite Not-Marc and try a smile.
“Sorry, what’s your name? I don’t think we’ve met before.”
Not-Marc meets your gaze and your breath catches. It’s intense and it keeps being intense until his jaw twitches and he looks you up and down. “Jake.”
“Right, Jake. It’s a pleasure.”
He doesn’t respond with more than a nod but you don’t mind. Marc might not be a talker but clearly Jake is mostly non-verbal and that’s okay. You’ve spent your life among historians so it’s nothing new.
“She’ll be down in a minute. You sure I can’t get you anything? I worry when both of you are out.”
Ah, there. Jake’s dark eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile even though his lips don’t shift. It feels like a win all the same.
“You are very kind. I’m fine.”
You let it go with a nod and the two of you stand in a comfortable silence until Layla hurries down the stairs. She kisses you hard on the lips, teases at your tongue in a way that she probably shouldn’t in front of her ex-husband’s alter. When you pull apart though, Jake’s got that crinkle-eye look on his face so you don’t think he minds all that much.
“Bye Jake! Take care!” you call from the doorway. He tips his hand in a salute and you know if he was closer you would see those eyes narrow. He’s not technically the first alter you have met; you have had exactly one conversation with Marc, a congratulations at his wedding, so you don’t mind classifying Jake as the first. You trust Layla with him, anyway, and that means something.
- Steven
Steven is an absolute assault on the senses. You meet him in London having been sent there for a meeting with the British Museum and actually bump into him on your way out. He scatters papers all over the floor and doesn’t seem to notice you as he drops to his knees to gather them.
“Oh bother,” he hisses. “Stupid things. Knew I should have stapled the bloody pages together, can’t believe I’m such a–” Brown eyes flick up. You smile and raise an eyebrow.
“Would you like some help with that?” you ask and don’t wait for him to reply. It’s a report of some kind though at a glance you can’t tell exactly what, only that it’s got something to do with egyptology. Steven is still staring at you, papers in his slack hands.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“‘S fine,” you say and offer him the papers with a smile. “Neither of us were looking where we were going. No harm done.”
He gapes. “You– You’re– Layla!”
You giggle, you can’t help it. “I wasn’t the last time I checked. I’m kidding, Steven. Hello.”
“Hello.” he smiles back at you. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“Oh, well then. I’m glad we got around to it because I’ve been bothering Layla for months.” he blinks rapid fire and looks around him like he’s only just putting the puzzle pieces together. “Oh my god you didn’t come all the way to London just to meet me, did you?”
“No!” you laugh. “I had a meeting with the board over my most recent dig. I was just leaving before I bumped into you.” his face changes but you cut off his apology before it can form. “And I’m very glad that I did. You want to grab a coffee and we can get to know each other? The others aren’t massive talkers but I’m told you’re quite the fan of history.”
Steven bites his lip, his eyes flicking between you and the papers in his hands before he winces. “I’ve… I’d love to! But I’ve got to hand in this report and I’m already late as it is. Could we– let me give you my number, yeah?”
He rattles it off and you save his name as Steven:). The grin that puts on his face is just as adorable as all of his other expressions. “Until later. Good luck!” You cry and he doesn’t spare you more than a smile before he’s tearing through the hall and off up the stairs, jacket flying behind him like a cape. Always in such a hurry, those boys.
- Marc
This is Marc. You’ve got the door held open in one arm and a sick, colicky baby cradled in the other. Hafsah left her with you just a couple of hours ago to go to work and she has been crying ever since. You’re frazzled and Layla is about to go out and possibly die and today is literally the worst possible day for Marc to appear. Part of you wants to tell him to fuck off and come back with Jake but the thought is cruel and rude so you push it back immediately.
“Hi, come in. Layla’s cleaning up this one’s sick in the living room. It might be a little while.”
Marc’s eyes blow wide at the sight of the baby and you think for a moment that he might run, but he just sets his shoulders, clenches his jaw and nods. “Can I help?”
Actually, you take it all back, bless this man and bless him for coming now. “Yes, absolutely. Can you hold her for a second? She got it all down my back as well and I don’t want to put her down in case she’s sick again.”
Marc just nods and reaches out to hold her, cradling her over his shoulder like he has done this a hundred times before. It’s a sight, actually, the gentle kisses he lays on her forehead as he rocks her from side to side. She doesn’t calm exactly but her crying peters out into long whines and gentle sobs into the crook of Marc’s neck. He catches you staring and just smiles weakly.
“Big extended family. I was around a lot of kids growing up.”
There is pain there, you can hear it in the tightening of his voice, so you don’t ask. Neither of you are there yet. Instead you hurry off to get changed and let Layla know that Marc’s waiting when she’s done. By the time you are finished Layla is standing beside Marc in the hallway, rubbing a hand up and down Nadia’s trembling back. It’s not jealousy that you feel when you look at them, not quite. Perhaps it’s longing. You never cared much about having children before Layla but part of you wants this with her. It’s something Marc could have given her.
You snap the thought from your head and take Nadia back from Marc to set her over your shoulder. She doesn’t start crying straight away which you count as an absolute win, and just snuffles tiny whines in your shirt. Layla bends down to kiss her forehead then kisses you and wraps her arm around your neck.
“Come back to me?” you plead and she nods.
“Always.”
Marc kisses the tips of his fingers then lays them ever so gently on Nadia’s cheek. He whispers something in Hebrew that you recognise as the beginning of the Mi Shebeirach, then tells her to be good. It melts your heart to see it and when you make eye contact with Layla over Marc’s shoulder you know she feels it too. It doesn’t hurt because you get it. Marc would have been a great dad. Maybe he still could be. Something in your expression must change because Layla tips up her eyebrow but you wave her away. That is a conversation for another time and right now, your friends need to go and save some lives.
“Allah Yehmeek,” you say, and Layla’s grin is wide. Marc nods, and then they’re gone. Almost immediately, Nadia starts crying again. “I know, Hayati, I know. I miss them too.”
Layla and Marc sneak back into the house with the sun and both of them grin at the sight of you dead to the world, Nadia sleeping peacefully on your chest. The house is quiet.
- Khonshu
Don't trust him, don't talk to him, don't summon him and never, ever make a deal with him. It's the first thing the boys tell you before teaching you how to shoot and you've never forgotten it. Khonshu is, above all else, a God. A greedy, uncaring, wicked God and you know not to get involved with him. Even Taweret, for all her perks, can forget the power she holds sometimes. Khonshu never does.
Today has been a not very good day. Everyone's in London again and you're staying in Layla's apartment whilst you wait for her to finish up whatever it is she has to do here. You'd gone on a walk because the apartment was feeling oppressive and technically, you're on holiday. There is nothing stopping you from taking a walk in a city you know like the back of your hand.
Only you've walked farther than you planned and you can't actually see any street signs anymore. It smells too hot for an evening in London, like sand and the packed mud in the desert. There's a warm breeze around your feet that reminds you of your chaperone back in Cairo, of the wind that saw you home safely. Fear crawls up your spine and very suddenly, you don't feel alone.
"Little bug you should not be alone this late at night."
You spin and come face to face with a… bird? It looks like a bird. Actually, it's a man with a bird skull head and a big staff with a shape on it that looks a bit like a crescent moon– shit.
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," you say, because Khonshu is massive and terrifying.
He barks out a laugh that rings through your head. The skull doesn't move. "I am no stranger."
"No, I guess not. We haven't actually spoken, though. Creepily following me home doesn't count."
Khonshu's head ticks to the side. "I was ensuring you remained safe."
"Oh yeah?" You ask disbelievingly. "Pull the other one, it plays Jingle Bells."
The staff smacks against the concrete and it's a wonder the ground doesn't crack with the force of it. "I am a God and you will speak to me with the respect I deserve!"
"What, like the respect you gave Marc? The respect you give Jake when you send him on a suicide mission just to kill one guy? I'm alright, thanks. Not sure I could ever respect you."
Khonshu’s skull can’t possibly show any emotion but you know he’s brimming with rage just from the way it juts forward. “Dealings between my Moon Knight and I are exactly that, between us . You have no right to comment."
Anger flares. "You made it my business the moment you started following me home! You made it my business by not leaving my friends alone to live their lives!"
"And what would you know of our business, little bug? A weak, fleshy thing like you knows nothing of hardship or battle." Khonshu says. You know it is meant to hit a nerve, meant to make you doubt your place beside Layla and Marc, but it seeps the anger from you anyway.
"I know that. I know almost nothing about what happened in Cairo or how much you've helped them," you say, suddenly exhausted. It's impossible to imagine how the boys withstand this every day. Even a portion of his power is oppressive. "But they're my friends, all of them, and I can't stand by and watch you mistreat them."
Khonshu watches in silence and wonders where all that fight went. "A noble cause indeed. What troubles you, little scarab?"
It's a step up from a bug, at least. "I'm a mortal. Just tired. Hungry. I miss my friends."
He bends at the waist to bring that massive head closer to you. "Are you afraid?"
"Of you? Of course. You're a God... you destroyed my friends life and Layla's life too. You could destroy mine, right now, and I wouldn't be able to stop you." Khonshu hasn't moved through your tirade. You feel a little like he's sizing you up. "But I don't think you will. Right?"
Khonshu's massive head tips slightly.
"You tremble, scarab."
What is he– oh, right, he's spot on. Your fingers lodge themselves in your pockets because you'll be damned if he sees you as weak. "It's... cold. And London isn't exactly the most friendly place at night for a woman alone. I've got to make my way home somehow and I'm not sure where I am. Not all of us have the wrath and fury of the God of the Night Sky to guide our fists. I'm squidgy. Soft. If someone attacks me it's going to hurt."
"You forget, little one, that all travelers of the night are under my protection."
That's… actually quite relieving to hear. "Thank you. This doesn't mean we're friends!" you add quickly and the skull bobs. "But thanks."
Khonshu reaches out one great hand and rests a finger underneath your chin. It's shockingly cold, but tingles. "You should take better care of yourself, little scarab."
The grin you send him is half-hearted, bogged down by fatigue. "I'll keep that in mind."
Khonshu huffs. "See that you do. Goodnight, little scarab."
The words fade and so do your surroundings, pressure building up and up in your ears until you land, quite safely, on the bed in your flat. The room stinks of sand and heat and your skin tingles all over like your chin had. Honestly, you're not sure what all the fuss was about. What a big baby.
The window is open and a gentle breeze shuffles the curtains around. You peer outside and there it is, a full moon and the brightest sky London has seen in years. Show off .
"Thank you," you whisper. The curtains flutter in answer.