Despacito (Slowly)

Steven looked at the two people in the hallway and gulped. He knew the name Duchamp, of course, as it had been one of the names in Marc’s phone, but he had no idea who the lady was, nor where they had been calling. Which meant that Jake had a secret phone, and as soon as his headmate woke up, they were going to have a long talk about keeping secrets from each other.

They had promised they would never do that again.

Unfortunately, dawn was still about an hour away which meant that Jake wouldn’t wake up until then. It also meant that Steven had to navigate a conversation with two strangers and he had no idea if he could trust them with the knowledge that he wasn’t Jake, or if he had to try and pretend he was Jake.

“Uh… Well…” He began, before he realized his mistake. Duchamp, however, noticed immediately.

“Wait, Jake doesn’t speak English. You’re not Jake, are you cher?” He said, nailing Steven with his deep, brown eyes. “And you look way too shy to be Marc… so, un tiers?”

Well, that took care of that. Apparently either Marc or Jake had trusted the Duchamp fellow enough to tell him about their condition, so if that was the case, Steven was going to trust their judgment. But not in the middle of a hallway where they could traumatize the neighbors again.

“Can we talk about this inside?” He asked softly, as he opened the door.

“Sure,” The woman, who hadn’t introduced herself yet, entered the apartment without even looking at him. “Please tell me you have Mexican beer here. Jake has the best taste in beer I’ve ever seen.”

“Uh, sorry? I’m not sure if he has any… At least not where I have seen?” Now Steve was confused at the familiarity the woman had with Jake’s habits. And well, he also felt a bit uncomfortable because the only time he had seen Jake drink beer had been in their mindspace, that one time when Jake had been convinced that Khonshu had abandoned them… no, HIM in specific, before Marc and Steven remembered him and how much they loved each other.

“We can deal with coffee if you have it, and you must have it because Marc doesn’t live without it,” Duchamp told him, quite secure. “He and I go way back, all the way to the army days and I don’t think I ever saw him go one day without at least two pots of the black stuff. By the way, I’m Jean-Paul Duchamp, and the sour lady with me is Jessica Jones. And who might you be, cher? We can’t call you not-Marc-nor-Jake.”

“Uh, Steven. Steven Grant, with a V,” Steven said, blinking and thoroughly confused, even if he also felt a bit relieved. Jean-Paul Duchamp was a friend of Marc from the Army, which meant that Marc, despite what he always said, had friends. “I don’t think they have told you about me.”

“Before Jake’s phone call? We only knew that if “he” answered with a british accent, we were to hung up. But then he said things had changed,” Jessica said, looking around the apartment as if she was looking for hidden danger. Meanwhile, Steven realized he had another problem. While he knew that these two knew about their mental condition, and were Marc and Jake’s friends, he had no idea if they knew about their extra activities as Khonshu’s Avatar. And here he was, wearing a suit that would disappear as soon as the sun rose which would require even more explanations.

He really needed to talk to Marc and Jake about answering their phones.

“Jake called you?” he asked, as he went into the kitchen to make coffee for his visitors and tea for himself.  “When was this?”

“About two weeks ago?” Jessica replied, sounding bored. “He wanted me to check on something for you guys. I did, but when I called back, he ghosted me.”

Now, that didn’t sound like Jake. But then, Jake hadn’t been fronting much after his three nights solo, trying to get Steven enough confidence to talk to Badr, and let him do his job. It dawned on Steven right then that his two soulmates tended to do that, let him front the majority of the time when there wasn’t anything urgent that needed them.

“I’ll talk to him about that… Not very polite to do that to your friends,” he muttered while the coffee started to drip. “Sorry.”

“Non, non, cher!”  Duchamp said brightly. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. As far as we understand, you’re the reason Marc and Jake are talking at all!”

“What?” Steven blinked, confused. That was news to him.

“Duchamp here met Marc first, and then Jake by accident,” Jessica explained. “And then Jake spent a long time begging Duchamp not to tell Marc anything about him. Same as when I met Marc by accident, he basically told me that if he ever answered with a british accent, I was to hung up the phone. I met Jake later, and it was the same as with Duchamp ‘don’t tell Marc about me’.”

“So you can imagine our surprise when dear Jacobito called both of us and told us that it was ok to tell Marc we knew both of them, and that there was no longer a veto on talking to the British accented one,” Duchamp finished. “There’s a story behind that, oui?”

“Uh… a small one?” Steven smiled nervously, not really knowing what else to say. He had no idea how much Marc and Jake trusted them, and thus, he was navigating blind.

The Sun couldn’t come up faster, in his opinion. He needed backup and he needed it now.

*          *          *

Jessica watched Steven Grant with interest. When she had first meet Jake, she had at first dismissed him as one more of the idiot cabbies from New York city that cared more about their cars than about their passengers. Part of it was that she had been under the bastard’s control at the time, but part of it was also that she had been an idiot, going by first impressions and a lot of prejudice when it came to judging people.

The only thing that had made Jake stick in her mind when she got free of the bastard was that, for some reason, the cabbie had been completely immune to his powers. Something that the bastard hadn’t been ready for and was furious about for months.

There was also the fact that later, once she had freed herself from the bastard’s control and started her detective agency, Jake always seemed to be around whenever she really needed a taxi. No matter the hour or the day, if she needed wheels -because nothing short of another snap would make her try and fly again, her stomach was not made for it no matter if her body insisted it could- Jake Lockley would be driving down the street, opening his taxi door for her and greeting her in Spanish, calling her his Bonita.

Little by little, he had worn down her defenses and they had become friends.

Which was why she had been completely blindsided when she met Marc, during a Defenders’ job. Their body language was so different, that even if their voices sounded similar -Marc had a noticeable Chicago accent and couldn’t speak Spanish to save his life, but the tone was the same since after all they both had the exact same vocal cords- it had still been a surprise to see “Jake”’s face under the white mask and hood. Jake later had explained, and begged her -and Luke, Danny and Matt- not to tell Marc about him… but also not to just ostracize Marc. He insisted that Marc could be a good team player if given the chance.

To this day, Jessica hadn’t seen that side of Marc, as the man was even harder to befriend than she was, but he had helped the Defenders a couple of times before moving to England. Danny called him Moon Knight, but then, Danny insisted on calling Luke “Power man” and himself “Iron Fist” so Jessica didn’t really pay much attention to what Danny said. (Matt called himself Daredevil, so Matt’s opinion was out of the question too)

Steven was also completely different from Marc and Jake. And his voice? Well, while his British accent sounded more practiced than natural, it made his voice sound softer than the other too. And he was nervous, she could tell. Was it because he didn’t know if they knew about Marc’s double life? Possible. He knew they knew they co-habitated the same body, but neither she, nor Duchamp knew if Steven knew about Moon Knight. If he did, he might be trying to protect his alters’ secret. If he didn’t, he might just be wondering why Marc and Jake knew them.

This was a bit worse than Mary, Jessica thought. And Mary was a mess.

“Care to give us the highlights? Just so we know where we’re standing?” Jessica asked as Steven started backing up towards what she figured was the bathroom of the place. “Jake only called Duchamp to give him that info, but he called me to ask for a favor. And well, I am curious too.”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Steven said. He didn’t seem to be running away as much as trying to make time. It made Jessica wonder why Jake or Marc didn’t come up to say hi. During the very strange phone call they had a few weeks ago, they had switched seamlessly half-conversation with her, something she had never seen happening either with them or with Mary.

And once again, she reminded herself that this was not like Mary, at all. And she was not going to think about her or her messy relationship with Matt again.

“What, you found Marc’s secret stash and realized someone else lived in the body with you?” Duchamp joked, but by the way Steven tensed, Jessica knew that it had been something similar too that. The French man joked a lot, but he was very observant too. It had taken Jessica a bit to realize that the fool, carefree persona was a façade, and that the pilot that Marc had introduced to her was a very dangerous man beneath that.

“Uh… something like that…” Steven said, confirming Jessica’s suspicions. “He… got me out of a very bad situation, and then we got to talk. He’s not very good at that, is he?”

“Oh, Marc is terrible at small talk,” Duchamp smiled. It was then when Jessica realized what he was doing. He was trying to make Steven feel more comfortable, so he would stop looking like a scared mouse who was ready to bolt at any given moment. “Jake is a bit better, but then you need to know Spanish to follow him, oui? Especially when he starts singing.”

“You’ve heard Jake sing?” Was Jessica hearing things, or Steven sounded jealous? The whole thing was starting to make her head hurt, as she tried to figure out what was going on. So she did what she always did when she got frustrated. She decided to cut to the chase.

“What I’m wondering is why neither Jake nor Marc have said a peep,” she said sternly, making both men turn to look at her. “I know that they now switch quite easily, are you keeping them down?”

She didn’t think he was, but at the same time, it was the only reason she could think for neither men to have come up to say hello to their old friends.

*          *          *

Marc yawned in the mind-space as light started coming into their shared bedroom.

He was feeling incredibly refreshed, like he had never felt since the days of the mental hospital. Part of it, he figured, was that he was being forced to rest by the moon phase, but most of it, he knew, was the feeling of being whole again, the fact that he had Jake and Steven again with him, instead of separated by a wall -and in Jake’s case, amnesia- only watching and unable to touch.

Marc finally understood what it meant that they were a system. They were individuals, yes, but they were also a team. They needed each other, they complemented each other, even as they also managed to work well individually. It was a perfect balance that had been broken long ago by the human they called father.

“Jake is a bit better, but then you need to know Spanish to follow him, oui?”

Marc opened his eyes and sat so quickly that he made Jake groan something that sounded like “Cinco minutos más”. But they didn't have five more minutes. Not if that voice was near Steven.

“Jake! Frenchie is here!” He said, shaking his soulmate awake. “He´s here with Steven!”

He didn't need to repeat himself, as Jake was up even faster than he had been.

“¿Qué hace Frenchie con nuestro Steven?”

There was a bit of panic as they got out of the nested bed, and, instead of going through the usual pantomime of dressing up -as they usually tried to keep some façade of normality in the mind world- they just conjured up their normal clothing.

“What I’m wondering is why neither Jake nor Marc have said a peep. I know that they now switch quite easily, are you keeping them down?”

Another voice came from the real world, through the body’s ears, and Marc saw Jack tense.

“Was that Jessica?” He asked, warily. He had meet Jessica Jones a couple of times while working as Khonshu’s Avatar in New York, but now he knew that she had become a lot more friendly with Jake. To the point that she had kept Jake’s existence a secret from Marc.

“Jessica puede controlar a Frenchie, y asegurarse de que no se sobrepase con nuestro Corazon,” Jake said, as he looked out of the window that were the bodys eyes. “Pero tiene razon… cuando hablamos con ella por telefono, cambiabamos de lugar muy rapido… Uno de los dos tiene que salvar a Steven.”

“I’ll take care of it. Frenchie won’t try anything funny with me,” Marc said as he closed his eyes, touching Steven’s astral shoulder to let him know he was there and was ready to take over if Steven needed some space to breathe.

The second he touched Steven, he felt himself flung to the front. That was odd, as Steven usually wasn’t one to back out this fast of a confrontation. His soulmate had even tried to remain at the front when Mogart’s men had speared them, for their father’s sake! So what had Frenchie and Jessica had done to him? He liked his friends, but if they had hurt Steven in any way, he’d have to hurt them back.

“Well, now that’s the look we’re used to seeing on you, mon amour,” Frenchie said as Marc felt the suit around him change from Steven’s elegant dress suit to the more familiar Khonshu’s fist ceremonial armor. “Marc, is that you?”

“Frenchie,” Marc nodded, then turned to look at Jessica as he send the suit away, so he was facing them in Steven’s work clothes. “Jessica. What are you two doing here? I thought we agreed you’d call us.”

“Oh, yeah, this is Marc,” Jessica answered Frenchie, shaking her head. “Hope we didn’t scare your friend Steven too much. He seemed nice.”

“Very nice,” Frenchie grinned, and walked closer to Marc who was ready for what was to come. There was a reason his friend Jean Paul Duchamp had been nicknamed Frenchie, and it was not for his habit of peppering every phrase he said with French. “Not like our grouchy Marc here. We’ve missed you, mon amour.”

“Don’t call me…” Marc was interrupted as Frenchie kissed him quick, on the mouth. He could feel Jake fuming inside, getting ready to take over if the kiss lasted longer than the usual time for a greeting, and Steven’s shocked surprise. Which meant that Frenchie had not greeted their beloved with his usual style. Good. At least the French-spaniard had learned some tact in their time apart.

“Duchamp, we don’t have time for this,” Jessica said, making Frenchie let go of Marc, who just glared at his old friend. The only reason why Frenchie got away with kissing Marc like that whenever they met again was their story together, the fact that Frenchie tried to greet everyone like that at least once -and the time he had tried it with Jessica when Marc introduced them had been quite the scene. He had had a black eye for weeks- and that Frenchie had saved his life more than once, both during his time as a mercenary and later, when they met again and Marc was under Khonshu’s protection.

Only that then, he wouldn’t have called it protection. So many things have changed since then.

“Sorry, mon ami,” Frenchie grinned at Jessica. “It’s just that Marc is very kisseable and I haven’t seen him in a long time. Of course, if Jacobo wants to come out to play, I can’t assure you I’ll keep my lips to myself.”

“Jake is still asleep,” Marc lied. “Again, what are you two doing here?”

“They were worried about you and Jake,” Steven told him from their mind space. “I didn’t know they knew we were the old bird’s avatar.”

“Nice way of saying Thank you Jessica for crossing the ocean to give us the information Jake asked us to find out,” Jessica answered at the same time. “I found the woman you were looking for.”

*          *          *

Jake no podía creer lo que había escuchado. Si, cuando le pidió ayuda a Jessica para encontrar a su madre, lo había hecho con la firme convicción de que si alguien podía encontrarla, era Jessica Jones. Pero ni en sus más locas fantasías había esperado que Jessica hiciera el trabajo en menos de dos semanas.

He really needed to start checking his phone more often, given that it seemed that they had come all the way to London because he had not answered when Jessica called to give him the intel.

“You asked them to find a woman? What woman?” Steven asked, confused. Jake remembered that his Corazón had been awake the whole night and while he knew by experience that their moon phases kept them energized, that first morning after being solo for a night had been a bit confusing for him too, as his awareness of the city and the places he needed to go dimmed with the sunlight.

“Le pedí que nos ayudara a encontrar a nuestra madre, amor,” Jake said. “A nuestra verdadera madre, no la maldita que nos hizo sufrir tanto.”

“And… she found her? How?” Steven looked up at the window of their eyes, looking at Jessica as Marc glared at her.

“Jessica es la mejor detective de Nueva York, Corazón,” Jake explained. “Si ella no puede encontrar a quien buscas, nadie puede.”

And wasn’t that the truth? Jake had seen Jessica solve cases that seemed impossible to solve, just by working as her cabbie back in the USA. He had also seen her free herself of that jerk boyfriend of hers who seemed to be able to control everyone’s minds except Jake’s and Marc’s. That was why he had asked her for help. They had so little to go on about her, their age, the fact that she had been in one of Khonshu’s churches, and was probably from Chicago, that he doubted anyone else could have found her, except for Jessica.

His faith had been rewarded, and they would get their answers if Marc could stop himself from antagonizing Jessica for two seconds. But then, Jake remembered, Marc and Jessica had that kind of relationship. Like the sister they never had, and he smiled remembering how he had watched them banter back when he had to remain hidden from his soulmates. Of course, he had had to interrupt the first time, just to make sure Jessica didn’t call Marc ‘Jake’ by accident and caused an incident, but other than that, he had been always very happy by just watching Marc and Jessica fight.

“You did?” Marc asked, at the same time as Jake mouthed the words in spanish. He wanted to get to the front, ask all the questions, but he knew Marc needed that more.

That was another thing that had changed now that they all remembered and knew the truth about themselves. In the past, switching had always been a bit of a challenge, especially when trying to keep himself hidden from Marquitos and Estebancito. Now, not only they could switch at the drop of a hat, they also seemed to be aware of when each of them needed some time in the surface.

Jake growled a bit about that. They used to know it too, when they were children. It was one of the many, many things the Spectors had taken away from them.

“Hey, you know I’m good,” Jessica leaned against the column next to the fishtank of the Guses. “That’s why Jake called me, didn’t he? Also, is he listening? I hate having to repeat myself when I’m talking to you guys.”

“He’s here,” Marc replied, and just as what Jake had been thinking, he suddenly found himself flung to the front.

“Hola, Jessica bonita,” he said, at the same time as he lifted a warning finger towards Frenchie. “Frenchie, manten esos labios alejados de mi… y de Steven, ya que estamos en esas.”

“Jacobito!” Frenchie smiled at him, wiggling his eyebrows. “But if I don’t kiss you properly, how will you know I missed you?”

“Oh, se que nos extrañaste, Franchute,” Jake replied, glaring so that Frenchie would know he was serious, especially about not kissing his Corazón. “Por eso Marc solo tenia una llamada Perdida tuya durante que, ¿Dos años?”

“I was giving him space,”

“Cuando viviamos en Nueva York, tu idea de darnos espacio era no llamarnos cada 5 minutos,” Jake insisted. He remembered that quite clearly, given that half of those calls were when he was up front, and driving the cab. That was why he had ended up introducing Frenchie to Jessica, because one day he had been calling about a job when she was on the cab with him.

“Ok, you caught me. I was a little bit jealous, oui? Marc getting married was not something I had expected to happen,” Frenchie shrugged, opening his arms. “But you’re still single, mon amour? We can still make our love happen!”

“Lo siento, pero no,” Jake replied. “Puede que nosotros no estemos casados con Layla, pero todos la amamos.”

He carefully avoided mentioning that they also loved each other. He wasn’t sure of how open minded his Friends were.

“Well, that is convenient,” Jessica smiled, as if she had actually been worried about that. “Avoids the issue of jealousy after all.”

“Lo hace, si,” Jake agreed. “Ahora, ¿Cómo esta eso de que encontraste a la mujer que buscamos?”

*          *          *

Jessica smiled now that she had seen both Marc and Jake. It was funny how their body language changed depending on who was in charge of the body. Steven had been nervous, and now she understood it was because he was wearing a version of Marc’s suit, and wasn’t sure if they knew about Marc’s activities. Marc, as always, was a closed door, trying to keep everyone at arm’s length, although she thought that there were now many cracks on the armor. In the past, she believed he might have punched Duchamp for his greeting. Now, he had only skulked.

Jack, on the other hand, was as always a seemingly open book. Social and joking around, even if people around him might not fully understand him. Of course, she knew that he understood English perfectly, but she had seen the man pretend he didn’t, in order to make others lower their defenses around him. It was a very interesting technique, one that she had stolen for herself a couple of times.

“Well, I am the best detective in New York,” she boasted, as Duchamp cleared his throat. She sent him a playful glare. “Although I had a bit of help from a contact in Chicago.”

Jake nodded, and waited for her to continue.

“It was a bit complicated, as you didn’t give me a name to start with, but I found a woman who was part of the Traveling Moon cult, a new age thing that seemingly started in the 70’s by a woman named Sandahl Swarn, but that seems to be a lot older, and when I say I lot, I mean I found information going back centuries. Swarn only made it fashionable for Americans.”

“Ya conociamos el culto de la Luna Viajera,” Jake said nodding. “Si le preguntas a Steven, el te dira que son tan viejos como el antiguo Egipto.”

“Yeah, well, they got a lot more noticeable when Swarn got to be the leader. She seemed very intent in getting more members, when before the cult had been quite closed to just a few families. And one of the members she got her claws around 1977 was a teen named Ana Maria del Refugio Estrada.”

As she said the name, she saw Jake straighten up. Well, not Jake. She was almost sure that now the one on the driver seat was Marc. Good, because this part was more related to him, as far as Jessica was concerned.

“Estrada? Are you sure?” Marc asked.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Jessica shook her head. “Of course I’m sure. Ana Maria joined the Church when she was 17, and was rescued from it two years later by her family with the help of a cult expert who helped them to kidnap her from the compound where she lived. Thing is, when they got her out… she was three months pregnant.”

At this news, Marc sat down. As if he was trying to digest what had happened.

“She never said who was the father, claiming that her child was ‘a child of the moon’, according to the expert’s notes when he was trying to undo the brainwashing the cult had subjected her to. There’s no record of when she gave birth, but seven months after she was rescued, her older sister, Gwendolyn and her husband, Elias, registered their first born son, Marc Spector. But I don’t need to tell you that Gwendolyn was never pregnant, do I?”

“You caught us,” Marc nodded. “We were asking you to find our mother. What happened to her after that?”

“Well, you knew her as your aunt I guess, as she stayed in Chicago until 1989, when she moved to L.A. where she has lived since then,” Jessica took out an usb from her pocket and handed it to Marc. “This is all I could find on her, a few pictures and her current address. According to what I found, she grew estranged from her family, so she broke contact with the Spectors when you were around 8 years old. Does that track?”

“It does,” Marc said, as if he was remembering something. “You have no idea what this means to us, Jessica. Thank you.”

“You wanna thank me, then answer your phone more often,” She replied. “And let me and Duchamp tell you about this little project my boyfriend Luke has, to bring heroes to the people who need them.”

“You know I’m not much of a team player,” Marc reminded her. “Being Khonshu’s Avatar is a taxing job and I can’t be available at all times. Besides, we live in England now.”

“Oh, dear Luke has considered that, mon ami,” Frenchie flashed him a smile. “The idea is that the ones who agree to join this… heroes for hire idea, would only work specific cases if they’re in their area.”

“Heroes for hire?” And that had to be Steven again, Jessica mused as she saw the body of her friends relax and his accent go from Chicago to sort of British. “You mean, people would pay for someone to help them?”

“Heroes also need to eat,” Jessica shrugged. “But you can give your part to charity if you want. We’re still working the details but, if someone needs help here in London, wouldn’t Marc want to give a hand as the fist of Khonshu?”

“Actually, it’s not just Marc,” Steven smiled. “The three of us work for Khonshu. And before you ask, he has mellowed out a lot as a boss… he probably would like the idea of us reaching more travelers of the night who need help.”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with a different mission,” And there was Marc again, Jessica blinked. It was so strange to see them shift so easily between each of them given how difficult it was for Mary to keep control. It made her wonder what had happened since the last time she had seen Marc and Jake.

“The idea is to have a huge network, so if one hero can’t help, there will be another to take their place. Think about it as some freelancing work. What do you say?” She said, taking out the special earpiece Misty Knight had designed precisely for this purpose. “Wanna join?”

It was Jake the one who grabbed the earpiece from her hand, with the same cocky flirty attitude she had learned to expect from Duchamp, who had become the unofficial pilot for the not-team.

“Cuenta con nosotros, Jessica bonita,” he said, as he put the earpiece on.