Despacito (Slowly)

Steven managed to catch Marc before he hit the floor, yelling his name as he did. Of course, Marc didn’t disappear like Steven had done, but that didn’t mean Steven wasn’t worried. He knew Marc was going back to his memories, to the deepest part of his own mind, in order to recover what had been stolen from them, and Steven knew his love, his soulmate would be ok, just as he had been. That when he came back to himself, he’d remember everything, just like Steven had. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried.  

“¿Va a estar bien?” Jake asked him, and Steven noticed that his eyes were still black circles. He wondered what kind of memory they had triggered in Marc.

“He will, it’s just… depending on where he put his memories of you… and Khonshu… it may be hard for him,” Steven said, as he brushed the hair off Marc’s forehead. “I have no idea what triggered the breakthrough, so… I can’t tell.”

“¿Esperamos a que despierte? ¿O mejor…?” Jake sounded uncertain, as if he was torn between helping Marc and helping Khonshu. So Steven took pity on him and shook his head. Right now, they couldn’t really help Marc. Their headmate… their soulmate, had to do the next part on his own, as painful as the idea was.

“Help me get him in the backseat, he’ll probably wake up before we get to the trial,” He said, even if he wasn’t completely sure of that. His own trip through memory lane had felt as if it took weeks, but in truth, only about 20 minutes had passed. And he still had no idea how long he and Marc had been dead and in Anubis’s ship the other time. The Other Void was a completely different dimension where time had no meaning, not like Earth time.

“Quédate con él…” Jake said as they put Marc’s unconscious form in the backseat, when Steven was about to close the door. “Estoy acostumbrado a estar solo en el asiento delantero… Y puede que el viaje sea tumultuoso.”

Steven nodded and got into the car, carefully placing Marc’s head on his lap. Marc was sweating, and Steven stifled a chuckle. It was amazing, how real their bodies felt in the Other Void. He knew they were just astral projections, the Old Bird had explained it to him once, when Steven had wondered how he had managed to get away from the others, away from the Body, to follow the God. In their mind scape, as well as the Other Void, their souls were their bodies.

That’s why they could be separated, even if they really weren’t. Because Steven could still feel Jake, and even Marc, faintly, in the back of his head, in the same place where they always were when he was fronting.

No matter what, they were never alone. And that was a sobering thought.

He just hoped Marc could remember that.

“¿Listo, Corazón?” Jake asked from the front seat, smiling as he looked at him through the rearview mirror.

“Take us to the old Bird, Jake,” Steven replied, as Jake hit the ignition and the white Buick riviera’s motor came to life. “It’s time we get our family together.”

*          *          *

The cold air of the desert hit Marc, dragging him back into consciousness.

He remembered Steven and Jake looking at him with worry, he remembered feeling the haze of drugs, threatening to drown him and his memories again.

This was different from Anubis’s ship. Then, he had seen his memories with Steven, looking at them from a distance. They hurt, yes, but at least the pain from the moment was gone. And he wasn’t alone. He had Steven.

Now, he was back in the body of that night. Looking at the moon, bright and full over him, and the bodies of the people he hadn’t been able to save.

Except… he sat in the sand dune, looking down at his bloodied hands, and realized he was alone. There was no sign of the camp, of the archeologists that Bushman and his other men had murdered in front of him. There weren’t any signs of life, or shelter. He was alone, in the middle of nowhere.

When he and Steven had seen this memory, Khonshu’s temple had been right next to the dig. But now Marc realized that had been wrong, his dying brain trying to make sense of holes in his head. Bushman had been too greedy to have left anything of value alone, and he remembered there were still treasures in Khonshu’s temple.  No, Bushman had killed everyone in the dig site, and then, to punish Marc for his betrayal, had abandoned him in the middle of the desert.

The blood in Marc’s hands was not innocent blood. It was Bushman’s. They had fought when Marc tried to save Abdullah El-Faouly, but Bushman fought dirty. And because he wanted to make Marc an example to the others, he hadn’t just put a bullet on Marc’s brain.

No, he wanted Marc to suffer. To die of thirst and hunger, lost in the desert sands.

He felt himself falling to his knees, trying hard not to cry. After all, he’d need those liquids later, if he wanted to survive. And he wanted to, Marc knew that. Not for himself, no, as he really didn’t deserve to. He was a killer, a murderer, and the faster he clocked it out of the world, the better for everyone.

But there was Steven.

And Marc would rather be tortured forever, if it meant that at some point Steven would wake up to a perfectly normal and happy life somewhere.

Sure, Steven hadn’t come out in months, but Marc knew he was still there. Still safe within his brain, and completely ignorant of what happened around him, dreaming of a life where things were perfectly average. Not about battlefields, soldiers and mercenaries. Not about death.

Marc had to survive, if nothing else, to give Steven a chance. He had to get up, and find… what?

He looked around, and as he did, the memory became stronger. Past Marc hadn’t noticed, but Present Marc was aware of the body enough that he could feel that he was not really in control of his legs as the body stood up and started walking in what seemed to be a random direction. But there was a small pressure in the back of his mind, not far from the place where Steven slept.

Jake.

The realization that Jake had been with him that night washed over Marc like a bucket of cold water. And as he did, he could hear a tiny, soft whisper on the back of his past memory’s head. So soft that it was easy to think it was just a hallucination brought by thirst.

“Vamos, Marquitos, un paso más… sé dónde podemos encontrar ayuda…”

Jake had been there, and now Marc realized, not just then. That tiny whisper in his mind was now familiar, words he didn’t quite understand, but a tone that left no doubt to the meaning.

Muévete. Move. Sigue adelante. Keep going forward. No estamos solos. We’re not alone. Sólo recuerda eso.  Just remember that.No estamos solos. We’re not alone.

Why didn’t he remember that night so clearly before? Marc guessed part of it was the wall that the pills had formed between them. The brain had learned that acknowledging Jake meant pain, so it was probably easier to edit him. That night, Marc had been so out of it that it may have been easier for Jake to take partial control, just as he had done for their dancing lesson… but thanks to years of conditioning, Marc had managed to edit his help out from his conscious memory.

Until now.

It was such a strange feeling, as Jake took control of the legs, and sometimes of the head, but never the full body, never shoving Marc away to a corner of his mind. Every so often, Marc would look up, to the full moon, and he felt Jake’s presence grow stronger then, get enough energy for one step more.

A new realization made its way into Marc’s brain, and as he did, he felt himself drown again in the drug hazed drug: When Jake was saying that they weren’t alone he didn’t mean that the three of them were together. 

He was also talking about the moon.

About Khonshu.

*          *          *

…con el fuego de el atardecer, arde la hierba…

Jake tarareaba por lo bajo, tratando de mantener la calma, al tiempo que golpeteaba el ritmo en el volante con los dedos. Steven estaba muy callado, lo que lo preocupaba un poco porque Steven siempre estaba hablando, incluso cuando estaba nervioso o preocupado.

It was not that he wasn’t used to silent rides -he had had more than his share of sullen silent costumers. It was that it felt unnatural for his silent passenger to be his dear Corazón. On the other hand, he knew Estebancito… Silence was not part of his life, so sooner or later…

“Why did you tell Khonshu to keep you a secret from us?”

Bingo. And yeah, Jake figured that that question would come sooner or later. Why hadn’t he just let their friend help to break the barriers between the three of them? Why had he waited until Marc’s control over Steven slipped thanks to the stress and grief?

“Al principio… estaba siguiendo el plan de Marc,” Jake said, slowly, not meeting Steven’s eyes in the rearview mirror, keeping his focus on the road made out of light and stardust, feeling the asphalt under the Riviera’s wheels even when there was no real highway. “Él quería que tu tuvieras una vida normal cuando resurgieras, y pues… su idea de normal no nos incluía gracias a los putos doctores y su tratamiento.”

“I didn’t surface much when we were in the army, did I? I never thought about it, but I don’t think I remember anything I did for about… five years or so…” Steven sighed. “I don’t even remember the snap, and that was pretty big.”

“Te tenía muy encerrado una vez que empezamos el entrenamiento básico,” Jake replied. He hadn’t been happy with that, since he thought Steven also needed to learn how to defend himself, but back then, he had no vote on what happened to the Body. All he could do was to try and push Marc subconsciously, and it didn’t always work. “Creo que te sentí una vez en Giza… pero fue solo un momento.”

“I would’ve liked to see the places you saw… combat… not so much,” Steven agreed, knowing that Steven’s heart would’ve broken if he saw half of what Jake saw… which was not as much as what Marc saw since there were times when Jake was also dormant.

He still didn’t know what Marc had done to get them discharged, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Si, bueno… Marc creía que era mejor que tu no supieras nada de él… y yo ya me había acostumbrado a que los dos ignoraran mi existencia… Khonshu no estaba de acuerdo, lo segundo que hizo al reencontrarnos fue preguntarme sobre ti.”

“What was the first thing he did?”

Jake sighed. He knew Marc didn’t remember this part, so Steven couldn’t have known. But yeah, honesty was important, and he needed them to know the truth, that the whole thing about becoming his Avatar hadn’t come with strings attached.

“Regresar el cuerpo a la vida,” Jake said carefully. “Entre la insolación, la sed y el hambre… nos dio un infarto cuando llegamos a sus pies.”

*          *          *

What is wrong, my Brave Little one?

“I’m not little,” Marc heard himself reply, as he looked at a surprisingly small Khonshu -almost human size, almost his father’s height- in the face. As far as he could tell, they were in his old room in Chicago, which was insane because Khonshu had never been there.

Had he?

No estámos solos.

Jake’s words echoed in his mind, as Marc was trapped in the scene that felt like a memory even if he was sure that he had never met Khonshu before that fateful night in Egypt.

Everyone is little to me. 

Khonshu said, sitting next to Marc on his bed. It was so strange, to see the Old god who usually loomed over everything seem so… normal.

“Steven and Jake are not awake, if that’s what you want to ask,” Young Marc said, looking away, as he touched his nose. Only now older Marc realized that it hurt, as if it was broken, or at least, very sore. “We had an extra session with Dr. Emmet. They always go dormant after that.”

I am aware of your soulmates’ state, Marc. And I didn’t ask about them. I asked about you.

Marc felt his young body roll his eyes, as if he didn’t believe Khonshu’s words any more than he did now. Well, at least his younger self had some sense, he thought.

“You don’t have to pretend, I know you like them better than me. Everybody does,” Young Marc was picking at something in his nose, and Marc wished there was a mirror somewhere so he could see what it was. However, instead he heard Khonshu sigh, and the sound made his younger self look up. The old, desiccated skull was looking at him, with what looked like concern and Marc couldn’t understand why.  And as far as he could tell… neither did his younger self.

Whatever gave you that impression, Brave One?

Young Marc raised an eyebrow, obviously not understanding how Khonshu couldn’t see his reasoning, but Old Marc, inside, couldn’t help but feel impressed. He had told Khonshu he wasn’t “little” and the bird had immediately corrected himself.

As if he really cared for Marc’s feelings.

“Steven is smart, so smart that he is learning how to read hieroglyphs with you, and he memorized everything he’s ever read, so everything he says is so interesting and you can talk to him about your past and he gets it,”  The flood of words came out of their young mouth, and older Marc realized that yes, his younger self was already half in love with Steven, the way he talked about him. But there was also sadness there. As if even then, Marc knew that if they weren’t in the same body, Steven would leave him one day for a better life. “And you love talking to Jake about his ideas of traveling abroad, and look at the maps he shows you… I’m just here because I’m in the body.”

There was a short pause, and Khonshu was going to speak, Marc could tell, when his younger self said something so softly that it broke Marc’s heart. Mostly because it was true.

“The only reason She wants Dr. Emmet to make sure that Jake and Steven are gone is because we all have the same face. If it wasn’t for that… she’d like them better. They didn’t kill her Ro-ro.”

It always came down to that, Marc knew. His guilt over having caused his younger brother’s death. The one thing his mother never let him forget, even if everyone else claimed that he shouldn’t be blamed. It had taken dying, and Steven, for Marc to finally forgive himself and realize that he had been a child, and Roro’s death had really not been his fault.

You did not cause your brother’s death, Marc.  And I will not deny I like your soulmates, for the reasons you pointed out, but I also like to spend time with you. You are very special, even if you don’t see it yet.

“There’s nothing special about me,” Marc mumbled, looking away.

May I inquire how you got your nose busted again?

“I got in a fight at school,” Marc sighed, as if he was tired of repeating that line. “I know, I shouldn’t solve things with violence…”

Sometimes, protecting the innocent requires violence. Tell me, were you protecting the innocent?

“A group of bullies were teasing a girl for her Captain America lunchbox… I dunno if she was innocent or not but…” Older Marc remembered that fight. His father had been furious with him, or at least, as furious as Elias Spector could get. But it had been three boys teasing a little 9-year-old girl to tears, and Marc hadn’t been able to stop himself. He had tried to tell them stop, but they had pushed him off. Then Marc had thrown the first punch.

He had earned himself a week detention, a broken nose, and more sessions with Dr. Emmet, back when he was still allowed to go back home. But the little girl had stopped crying, and no one had ever bothered her when she said that Captain America was her uncle, so for Marc, that had been a triumph.

Sounds like she was. I think you did well, my dear Brave one. While I know all beings want peace, sometimes we need to fight to get it.

“Wish my dad agreed with you,” young Marc said, and yes, older Marc had to agree. However, the next words out of his mouth shocked him so much, he was sent back into the fog. “… I wish you were our dad.”

*          *          *

“So… he brought us back to life?” Steven asked, mulling the information that Jake had just given him. A day ago, hell, a few hours ago, he’d be incredulous that Khonshu would do something like that without asking for something in return. After all, he still remembered how Marc had seen that night, the manipulation to get Marc to agree to become Khonshu’s Avatar: Live as my Fist or Die at my feet.

But now that he remembered how the old Bird was, how he had been patient and even caring with them as children, how much they all liked to spend time with him, as far away from the Spector’s home as they could, or at least far from the Spector’s eyes so that they wouldn’t have one more reason to send them to Dr. Emmet’s? He could see that. After all, the Khonshu of those memories always fretted and fussed when the Body was hurt, complaining about how his powers were limited because their statue was so small compared to the old ones… and then apologized profoundly because he didn’t want them to feel offended over it.

So yeah, he could see Khonshu, taking advantage of his full powers in his real temple, healing their Body without them even asking.

“No había otro dios cerca,” Jake joked, but Steven could tell that he was still troubled by that. And he realized that it meant that now their body had died twice, even if he only remembered the one time. “Recuerdo el infarto, y verlo ante mí en un enorme espacio blanco vacío, diciéndome que no era nuestro momento para conocer a Anubis. Y luego estaba de regreso en el cuerpo, con Marc todavía fuera de combate.”

“I bet he was not amused,” Steven looked into Jake’s eyes. “So then you told him to keep you a secret?”

Jake avoided Steven’s eyes, and that’s when he knew he was not going to like the answer. Even when he had seen how low Marc had been that night, he figured there was something worse. Especially if they had been dead right before it happened.

“No… al principio, pensé que con su ayuda podría hacerlos recordar a ambos,” Jake was speaking very lowly, almost a whisper. But in the silent car, he might as well be yelling. “Pero cuando le di el control a Marc de nuevo… fue cuando tomo su revolver de servicio.”

“You stopped him,” Steven murmured, as he once again caressed Marc’s sleeping face. His other soulmate was sweating, but looked calm, so Steven hoped that he was immersed in a happier memory rather than the one Jake was telling him.

“Tuvimos suerte de que todavía estuviera débil y creyera que estaba alucinando,” Jake confirmed. “Porque si no, no sé si hubiera podido quitarle el control del cuerpo. Khonshu estaba furioso. Creo que maldijo a todos los ancestros de esa mujer hasta la época en que él todavía tenía plumas.”

“And so… you asked him to give Marc a purpose,” Steven finished the idea. It made sense. “To protect the travelers of the night… but… Marc didn’t want to kill anymore, then why?”

“Pese a lo que crees, Corazón… no hay tanta sangre en las manos del Caballero Lunar,” Jake said, using the moniker Khonshu had used for Marc when he had donned the suit for the first time. “Si, estuvieron los seguidores de Ammut, pero te consta que ellos se suicidaban si creían que podían perder. Pero la mayoría de los narcos, los traficantes, los tratantes de blancas… a esos los dejamos con vida para enfrentar a la justicia terrenal.”

“Marc has a room full of dead people in his conscience. He told me they were the worst of mankind, that they deserved to die but that he had hoped any of them got the best of him,” Steven murmured, as he kept caressing Marc, feeling his heart break once again for all the pain his soulmate had sustained.

“Algunos lo eran. En la mayoría de los casos, Marc tuvo que elegir entre salvar a sus víctimas o a los culpables y si me lo preguntas, siempre eligió bien,” Jake sighed. “Se que no te gusta esto, Cariño, pero el mundo no es tan blanco y negro. Además… Marc también se culpa por aquellos a quienes no pudo salvar.”

“Like his brother,” Steven finished and looked down at Marc. That made more sense than Marc claiming he was a killer. And now that Steven thought about it, it even fit Khonshu a lot better. With the exception of the suicidal teen they had taken to the edge of a hill, the old bird had only asked for them to kill one person: Harrow. Everyone else was just to be punished if they even got in the god’s radar.

The only reason why Steven had thought Khonshu and Marc were bloodthirsty was because of what Harrow and his men had told him. And now, he felt shame because at the end of the day, he hadn’t given his Alter a chance -and by the time he was willing to listen to Marc, he didn’t realize how bad his self-esteem was, how much he had internalized his mother’s hateful words.

*          *          *

“What is that?” Steven’s voice came out of the young body, startling Marc out of the drug hazed fog. Now that he thought about it, the fog had become thinner each time, as if facing those memories made it weaker.

“Es Khonshu, ¿No ves?” Jake replied immediately, and Marc focused on the thing in the body’s hand, a tiny replica of Khonshu statue, probably made of plastic and in China. He also marveled at how easily they seemed to switch when they were younger, as he had barely felt Jake come forward.

“I can see that, Jake, but where did you get it Marc?” Steven huffed. If Marc was right, they were around 11 years old at that time. That had been one of the better years, as Wendy had gone to visit her parents for long periods of time, to mourn Ro-ro ‘away from the monster’. Elias didn’t do much to make them feel better at the absence, but not having to watch their steps every second of the day made wonders for them.

“I went to the museum when you guys were sleeping,” Marc heard himself reply. And, anticipating Steven’s next question, he continued. “So that Khonshu can visit us even if his big statue is still on loan somewhere away.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Marc,” Steven pointed out. “The statues that Khonshu uses had the power of his follower’s prayers.”

Marc was surprised to feel his younger self’s growing indignation. Because he wanted Khonshu to be able to visit them. It was so strange, to know that there had been a time when he wanted the old god around, and how as he realized that, his own feelings were starting to change. He still wanted to know why, why Khonshu hadn’t told him right away in the temple that he knew them. Why, if he was so warm in these memories -that felt even more real than the things he saw in Anubis’s ship- he had been so dismissive and cold when offering Marc his life, in exchange for his services.

Why he hadn’t mentioned Jake.

“Well, we believe in him, don’t we?” Young Marc pointed out, still looking at the small statue. Now Marc remembered it very clearly, hidden behind his action figures so that Wendy Spector wouldn’t see it and throw it away. “We can pray to him, and be his followers, and then this will work too! That way Jake won’t feel sad because Khonshu can’t come to see us.”

“No soy el único que lo extraña, Marquitos,” Jake growled, as he took control of the body for a second, to touch the statue’s cape. “No es mala idea. Él dijo que, si le rezábamos a la luna, podía escucharnos, ¿No?”

“Exactly,” Marc mouthed, at the same time as his younger self, as the final barrier broke on his mind, and all the memories of moments with Khonshu, of those days when he and his alters were together and aware of each other before the drugs and electroshocks build walls between them came rushing to him. “This way, none of us will ever be alone.”

*          *          *

“In short, you are accused of taking advantage of a broken human and forcing his hand to become your Avatar. A human who couldn’t have known what the work entailed and making his mental problems even worse.” Osiris finished his long speech, and Khonshu had to stop himself from commenting that the speech had been anything but short. “How do you declare yourself?”

I did not cause Marc Spector’s troubles to increase

Khonshu answered carefully. He couldn’t explain to the Ennead how his fledglings weren’t broken, not without having to also explain when he met them, and how precious they were to him. Because then they’d ask for proof and the only proof he could give were Steven’s memories and Khonshu would die before he let those go into anyone’s hands that weren’t his Little Scholar’s.  And yes, Steven now remembered most of those again, as far as Khonshu had been able to tell, but that didn’t mean that they were really coming back.

After all, there was still Marc left to remember. And Khonshu had done too good of a job to make sure that Marc only felt contempt for him now.

“But you don’t deny he is a broken human, that you took advantage of him and his weakness?” Osiris’s voice boomed in the courtroom.

“Excuse me, but I think that that question should be answered by someone else… Also, we’re not broken, nor weak, thank you very much.”

Just as the voice with the English accent that Khonshu knew so well interrupted Osiris -and any answer Khonshu might have given, his phantom scapular feathers ruffled… together with his crown and nape. He didn’t want to turn around, but the expressions of the other gods told him all he needed to know.

His always surprising fledglings were there.

“Who dares?!” Surprisingly, it was not Osiris who seemed more infuriated at the interruption, but Horus, who had been quietly smiling during the whole trial, as his hate for Khonshu was quite obvious.

“Hi,” Steven was the first one to walk forward into Khonshu’s view, and Khonshu tried not to smile at how his Little Scholar had come so far, from being somewhat afraid to talk back to Harrow to now, talking to the other gods as if they were his museum coworkers.  “Steven Grant. You must be Horus, the divine child, named god of the Sun and Moon, yes?”

“Jake Lockley, encantado, Señoritas… Señor Osiris,” Jake was the next one to come into Khonshu’s eyesight, winking at Hathor, Isis and Tefnut, before tipping his hat to Osiris… and pointedly ignoring Horus. That, together with Steven’s jab about Horus being “named” the god of the Sun and Moon rather than actually being the god of the celestial bodies warmed Khonshu’s heart at the same time that it worried him. His children were clearly stating their loyalty to him, but they were also angering a very powerful god.

“Marc Spector, we’ve met before,” Finally Marc came into view, angry and ready for a fight. “And as Steven said, not broken, nor weak. Just really pissed that people keep talking about me when I’m right here.”