Despacito (Slowly)

Khonshu stood before the Sanctum Sanctorum in New York, hesitant.

The truth was, he didn’t want to be there. Not because he was not protecting his Avatar as they faced one of Harrow’s old followers -he was more than confident that his fledglings were more than capable of handling that little human without his help, but because his old friend, the Ancient One, was no longer there.

I miss you, Igraine, He murmured to himself, using the name that his friend had stopped using long, long before her death in that city. And not just because I could use your advice right now.

He had felt when his friend died and had mourned her deeply. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much time to think about her because not long after her passing, the Snap came to pass. Then, he mourned Harrow… and barely had time to feel relieved to see that his beloved fledglings had survived when Jake revealed that Marc was suicidal and horribly broken thanks to the treatment they had received from their parents, the hospital, and life in general.

With all that in his hands, he had never been able to introduce himself to the new Sorcerer Supreme, the man who had succeeded the Ancient One in the role of Earth’s protector from mystical threats.

Not because he had to, of course. He was a god, exiled and all but still a god. He didn’t owe any mortal respect. But he had been friends with the Ancient One, and she had always been supportive of him after their first, somewhat tumultuous, meeting; he owed her legacy respect.

And also… she had told him that it would be her successor would have answers for him.

“I’m sorry, old friend… I see now that you don’t know what I see,” She had said that day, so long ago, when they were watching Marc, Steven, Jake and their classmates eat ice-cream not far from the New York Sanctum.  “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

What do you see? Are they in danger? Am I putting them in danger?!

Khonshu still remembered how panicked he had felt then, that he had somehow put those adorable souls in danger, that he had damaged them. A fear that had never left him, because at the end of the day, he still saw them as his fledglings. And a good father falcon took care of his fledglings, not betrayed them like the Spectors had done to them. Like Ra had done to him.

“No, nothing of the sort,” The Ancient one had continued, but her gaze remained sad. “But… I can see their lives will be filled with hardship… and no, I can’t take them with me. I know you want to ask. They must follow the path fate has decided for them. And one day… my successor will tell you why they started the path with you.”

She had refused to elaborate further… but had gladly listened to him talk about how wonderful his Little Scholar, his little Explorer and his little Brave One were.

But now, she was gone. And Khonshu still stood hesitant in front of the door of the seemingly normal Greenwhich Brownstone.

“Are you going to come in, or should I start throwing breadcrumbs at you?” A dark-haired man, with two very clear gray streaks showing his age, stood in the door. He was dressed a blue version of the student’s uniform at Kamar-Taj and wearing the Cloak of Levitation as well as the Eye of Agamotto, making it clear he was the new Sorcerer Supreme.

I see that you didn’t inherit your predecessor’s manners, Dr. Strange.  But yes, if you don’t mind, I’d like to come in to talk.

Khonshu had never been good at first impressions.

*          *          *

Steven woke up smiling at the delicious smell of the breakfast that Jake had cooked for him. Previously, it would’ve been weird for him to wake up when the body had obviously been awake for a while, but now, it seemed perfectly natural. He felt Jake kiss him on the cheek in their innerspace before he joined the still sleeping Marc, leaving Steven as the only one awake and fronting, and prepared himself for the day.

He fed Gus, Not Gus and Gus 2.0 (And really, they needed to think of better names for the fishes), frowned a bit when he realized there was no new note from Khonshu on the fish tank, but then finished preparing for his first full day in his new job

So much had changed for them since that day, almost two months ago, when he had woken up in the middle of Marc’s mission to stop Ammit, and while he could’ve done without some of the scares? Steven knew now that he wouldn’t change anything of those days, given the chance.

He had his family back, all of it: his two soulmates, and his… well, his godfather he supposed. It was difficult to pinpoint their relationship to Khonshu, really. Steven knew it was partly because his memories, his true memories and not the echoes that he had kept despite the torture in the asylum, were still in Khonshu’s possession, but he knew that it was also something that he had considered before.

He knew Marc had often wished Khonshu was their father, even back at the hospital. Because they all knew Khonshu would’ve never done what Rabbi Spector did, put them in someone else’s care so that two of them would be erased. Khonshu loved them all and accepted them as they were.

And wasn’t it weird, that just a week ago, Steven would’ve called anyone who said that crazy?

Jake called Khonshu “Padrino”, “Godfather”, but Steven knew it was just because Jake didn’t feel confident enough to drop the “god” part of it. He wondered if Khonshu knew. Probably not, since the god hadn’t clued on that Steven calling him “Old Bird” was just a play on “Old Man”… which was of course a very British way to call your father.

As Steven left the bus to enter the museum he wondered idly if that was why they were so adamant that Harrow couldn’t be Sobek’s son. Because they were jealous of the dead man, who could’ve been the son of an Ennead god, when they so desperately wished to have been Khonshu’s.

“He called us his children in the Other void,” he whispered to himself as he waved past J.B. and the gift shop. He could see Donna glaring at him, as she spoke to Dylan, who also glared. Steven didn’t really care. While he had liked Dylan from afar, after she had completely refused to hear his reasons why he had stood her up -even as he apologized profoundly- she had lost a lot of his charm. Not that he would want to date anyone now, as he had Marc, Jake and Layla.  “Maybe he does think of us as his.”

“Someone got laid yesterday,” Reese’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, as she leaned against Prof. Alarune’s workshop’s door, drinking something that looked like tomato juice.  “Or had some very good dreams.”

“Just happy to start my new job,” Steve greeted. “Yesterday was a bit of a whirlwind for me.”

“Oh, you will have to tell me all about that,” She grinned at him. It was strange, how friendly she was after all those months facing Donna’s animosity. To this day, he still had no idea what he had done to make Donna hate him, and now he was equally clueless as to why Reese seemed to like him. "There are a lot of rumors flying around you, Mr. Grant.”

“Rumors?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, Dr. Alraune and Dr. Moench say that you are a translating genius, but Soldier told us that you were working at the Gift Shop before…” Reese guided him to the back of the workshop, where they kept the photographic equipment and item to be catalogued. As far as Steven knew, one of his new responsibilities was to take pictures of each and every thing that was on the boxes strewn around the workshop, to catalogue them before someone else started studying them. Well, unless they had writing on them. Dr. Alraune had made it clear that he was also to work on translating duties, at least four hours every day. “And Terry says that he heard you had been fired for destroying a bathroom last month?” She shrugged. “As I said, rumors.”

“I… I was working at the gift shop, yes,” Steven replied, as that was not something he could easily lie about. He just hoped Reese and those other people she mentioned that he hadn’t really met yet, wouldn’t hold it against him. As he answered, he could feel Marc stirring awake. “But I wasn’t the one who destroyed the bathroom. That was… a misunderstanding.”

And that was not a lie, not really. The body had been his, of course, but the one who had decided that a toilet was the perfect weapon to deal with a demonic jackal was Marc.

“Sorry. I should’ve taken care of the cameras first,” Marc whispered in the inner space, making Steven want to hug him given how apologetic he sounded.

“Is ok, luv. We fixed everything in the end,” Steven answered back, before turning to look at Reese, who started showing him how to photograph the ancient relics without damaging them further.

Even if some of the items looked like only breathing near them would turn them to dust. She pointed out how it was important to check the shipping catalogue first, as every relic had been photographed on site where found, then take the new picture and add it to the file with the old one.

“It’s a bit tedious, but it has to be done. Keep a clear paper trail, yes?” Reese explained, as she watched him do the process, slowly but surely.

“There are a lot of scratches on these tablets,” Steven said, idly. He was trying not to start trying to read the tablets he was photographing, as he knew he’d get distracted if he did and mess up the photo taking part of the process.  “As if someone was really interested in erasing some words.”

“You noticed too, uh?” Reese grinned. “Dr. Alraune says that it’s probably the name of a general that fell off favor with a pharaoh or something. You will get to find out if you’re as good with hieroglyphs as he says.”

“Sounds as if you have a different theory…” Steven ventured, getting yet another tablet out and calling its number on the file. He figured that, with time, this could get tedious. But right now, he couldn’t contain his joy at being able to handle such relics.

“You don’t want to listen to her crazy conspiracy theories, lad,” Dr. Alraune came in, just as Reese had opened her mouth to answer. “Just concentrate on taking those pictures. Once you finish with those two boxes, we must check the books you will need for your placement tests. And you, Reese, I thought I asked you to start cataloguing the ushabtis we found in the Cairo’ dig.”

“Yes, sir!” both Steven and Reese answered, Reese making a mock salute as Dr. Alraune shook her head at her, amused. Then she playfully punched Steven in the shoulder mouthing that she’d tell him later, and went on to do her job.

Yes, Steven could very well get used to this new routine, he thought, as Marc laughed in his head about how only Khonshu’s “little Scholar” would get excited about doing tests.

They were so amused they almost missed a very important clue.

Almost.

*          *          *

Marc woke up alone in the huge bed they now had in the middle of their inner world apartment, and stretched, feeling completely rested for the first time since he could remember. A quick check on the other alters told him that Jake was in his room, tinkering with his dream car, while Steven was fronting, having the time of his life at his new job.

Marc thought that taking pictures of old rocks was incredibly boring, but the joy that radiated from Steven, permeating every inch of their shared mind space, was enough to make him wish that they could just spend all the time needed doing that, rather than the other stuff they needed to work on.

He was still thinking on what Ronnie had told them about Harrow, and while he adamantly didn’t believe that the man was the son of an Ennead god, he could believe he had been raised by Ammit’s cult precisely to free the goddess and betray Khonshu.

After all, Khonshu had, in the eyes of the big crocodile lady and her followers, betrayed Ammit long ago. Marc could see how they would see Khonshu being betrayed by his avatar would be some sort of twisted justice.

Inside the body’s mind, Marc snarled, trying to keep his feelings to himself as to not ruin Steven’s day. Ammit and Harrow had no idea what Justice was. Harrow had mocked Khonshu many times, saying that Khonshu wasn’t “true” Justice… but the truth was that their god was far fairer than the nightmare that Ammit was.

Their god.

As his thoughts went to Khonshu, who had just come to them last night after they had left Ronnie hanging outside the police station to tell them that he had to go to New York, but that he’d be back soon, and that if they needed him, he’d be only a prayer away, he moved his attention to what Steven was doing, just in time to see something strange.

“Steven, that photo of the tablet? Is different from the tablet you have in your hands,” he said, quickly, before Steven took the second photo. 

“What?” Steven stopped, and Marc could feel his confusion. The tablet was the same, at least the same shape and general scritches that Marc could recognize -the ones he was sure Steven could understand if he focused- but there were small differences. To be precise, the real tablet had three gashes that were nowhere to be seen in the photograph that had been taken when the tablet had been unearthed.  “Oh… Oh! Good catch, luv.” Steven’s gratitude washed over Marc, making him smile. But soon, the warmth was once again eclipsed by confusion.

“Reese? Come here, I found something weird,” Steven called out, eyes still fixed on the tablet. Marc could see the gashes better now that Steven was focusing. Two of them were deep and had completely erased whatever that had been there. But the third one was just a small hit, as if whoever who had vandalized the tablet hadn’t had time to do the job right. The original hieroglyphs were intact.

And those were the only hieroglyphs that Marc understood without Steven’s help. Mostly, because he had seen them in his chest for almost five years now, every time he called on the Ceremonial Armor of Khonshu’s temple, but also because, when he was young, he, Steven and Jake had memorized them to be able to write a joint Father’s Day card for the one person they really saw as deserving as one.

They were the hieroglyphs that spelled Khonshu’s name.

*          *          *

Después de preparar el desayuno para Steven -y Jake estaba eternamente agradecido a Geena por haberle enseñado a hacer hotcakes veganos- el cansancio finalmente venció a Jake y lo obligo a unirse a sus querido Marc en la cama, justo al tiempo que Steven se levantaba. Antes de caer rendido, Jake sonrió ante la idea de que su mundo interior era tan real para ellos como el mundo exterior, donde para cualquiera que estuviera viendo, el cuerpo había estado despierto por una hora, haciendo varias tareas en el departamento donde vivía solo con sus peces dorados.

He still didn’t sleep long, and by the time he decided that rest was not going to come, Marc was starting to wake up, so Jake got up. His mind was still stuck on what had happened with Ronnie -and more than a little worried about Khonshu… he knew their padrino had just gone to New York, that he wouldn’t do the dirty and abandon them again, but it was still too close to have almost lost him for comfort- but he was still not ready to talk about it with either his Corazón or his Cielo.

He figured part of it was that he had been unable to talk to them for so long, he wasn’t sure how to do it anymore. Yes, they understood him again -and that had been a relief. He still had nightmares of the day when he realized that whatever Dr. Emmet was doing to them was working because neither Steven nor Marc understood Spanish anymore, when he had been limited to answering their questions with yes or no because those were the two only words they knew- but Jake hadn’t talked to them in so long, and they had changed so much that even if he knew them, even if he still loved them with all his heart, he wasn’t sure how would they react if they knew what he was thinking.

The words of Wendy Spector echoed in his head again, as he tightened screws that didn’t really need tightening until he needed to do something with his hands.

“Jamás debí aceptar a un monstruo como tú en mi casa. Debí decirle a mi madre que no eras mi problema.”

Thing was, Jake knew she was not calling Marc a monster for their DiD. Wendy had never once believed that he and Estebancito existed, calling them a mean prank by Marc, a way to avoid his family, another way to torture her. For Wendy Spector, everything was about her and her pain. She never once stopped to think how much Randall’s death had hurt Marc.

(Neither Estebancito nor himself had strong feelings about Randall, but that was because they had never met him. Both had come to exist after his death)

Jake had always thought that she was just calling Marc a monster because murderer was getting old, or she didn’t know the word in Spanish. But now… now he wasn’t that sure.

What did she mean when she said she “accepted” them in her home? Did Jake dare to hope that it meant that they were adopted? Part of him wanted to believe that, to know that they were not given birth by that horrible woman. But that opened a whole new can of worms, if true. First, who was their mother, then? What had happened to her, to their father, since if Wendy Spector wasn’t their mother, then it followed to reason that Rabbi Spector wasn’t their father either. Jake didn’t see that weak, cowardly man cheating on his wife, nor Wendy forgiving that kind of insult.

If they were adopted, and Jake couldn’t lie about it, he’d be really happy if his suspicions were true, then the only one who could confirm it was Rabbi Spector. Which meant that one of them, possibly Marc given that the man also hated Jake and Steven, would have to talk to him to find out. The mere idea made Jake angry, because while Rabbi Spector hadn’t been as hateful as Wendy? He wasn’t blameless in their torment. After all, it had been him the one who had sent them to the mental hospital so that they could be “cured”.

“Cured”, of course, meant that Steven and Jake had to die, disappear, and leave Marquitos all alone with those two monsters. That was what Rabbi Spector wanted. A child that didn’t shame him because he wasn’t “normal”.

Jake hated him as much as he hated Wendy Spector. Yeah, not being his son was the best-case scenario for them. But how to find out without exposing his Cielo to that hate again?

And then there was the other thing that had been spinning in his mind since they had interrogated Ronnie, the cultist idiot.

“Only someone with Ennead’s blood in their veins could’ve found Ammut’s resting place! The prophet said so!”

Did they have prophets in the Ammut’s cult? Or was that just another way to control their members? Jake didn’t know, but he felt like they needed to find out one way or another. Because the Ennead were real, the Aesir were too. And before Marquitos had moved them all to London to let Steven front most of the time, they had lived in New York, and Jake had seen some of the craziest things there. He had driven a man once, who insisted he was a sorcerer and was fighting with invisible demons… and Jake was inclined to believe him. They had been invaded by aliens, not many years before too.

But if they had prophets, there was a small problem with that prophecy.

Harrow hadn’t been the one who found Ammut’s resting place. He had directed the dig, sure, but he had used a magic scarab that worked for anyone who had it in their hands. And even then? He hadn’t been able to find the exact hiding place of the ushabti. He hadn’t even been able to find the crypt inside the tomb.

Steven had.

Estebancito had been the one who read the secret map in Senfu’s Sarcophagus. It had been his Corazóncito who had managed to put the map together and figure out the stars’ positions and the night that they needed to find. Sure, Khonshu had helped him to put the stars in place and Layla’s GPS had done the rest of the work

(Even if Jake had the gut feeling that, had he been able to talk to Steven then? He would’ve been able to find his way to the tomb, even without Khonshu moving the skies. He was certain of it, just as he was certain that he couldn’t get lost, as long as it was night, and he could see the moon)

                                                                                                                                                                              but that wouldn’t have happened without his Adorado Steven. And once inside the Tomb? It had been Estabancito the one who figured out how to navigate the labyrinth, the one who found Alexander The Great´s sarcophagus… and the one who had figured out how to get the Ushabti out from his throat.

I never should've accepted a Monster like you in my home.

Only someone with Ennead blood on them could find Ammut's resting place.

Those two ideas kept connecting in his head, and Jake wasn't sure if he wanted to believe the way in which they fit together in his thoughts.

And yet, he couldn't talk to his soulmates about it. He was terrified of their reaction, especially Marquitos’.

Because Marquitos had scars, terrible scars that didn’t show in the body, out of Rabbi Spector’s need to make them “normal”. And if Jake was right, if his suspicions were correct? Then they had never been normal, not even before they were “they”.

As his thoughts kept circling around the same boulder, the same obstacle that he just couldn´t pass, Jake did the only thing that had kept him sane during the years he had been alone.

He prayed.

“Khonshu… Padrino… Espero no estes muy ocupado en la Gran Manzana… porque ahorita… ahorita en serio necesito tu consejo.”