Firefly
All things considered, Steven’s morning actually started off pretty well.
Zara was next to him when he woke, still asleep, the morning sun illuminating her features with gentle golden light. Steven felt his heart take flight in his chest as he reached a hand out, brushing a stray dark strand away from her forehead. Marc was uncharacteristically quiet in his head – normally he was up and alert as soon as Steven opened his eyes, but today he seemed less…well…Marc. But not in the way that he had been when they’d first realised they’d had another alter – it seemed some of his tension had drained. Once Zara had come in, the remainder of the night had been the first truly good sleep that Marc had had in a long while. Even still, Steven prompted him as he rose, nudging him in that internal space they shared.
“Do you think she likes tea? Or coffee?”
Marc stirred as Steven rose, walking out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. “I mean, I’ve never seen her drink it.”
“Probably wasn’t much of a thing in her, uh…upbringing,” Steven mused, sauntering a little groggily into the kitchen. It was absolutely icy, as though someone had left the window open, and Steven shuddered. Thankfully, there was a box of earl grey, and a kettle that looked like it’d seen better days. Steven switched it on, ducking a little behind the counter as it heated up. “Bloody thing sounds like it’s about to explode on me.”
Tentatively he pulled two cups from the cupboard, pulling a teaspoon from the drawer. Marc’s voice regained a little of his usual intensity in his head as he searched for the sugar. “I still think we’re putting her in danger, Steven.”
Steven paused. “Come on, Marc, I think she can handle it. Besides, Zara has a better idea of what we’re dealing with than you or I do.”
“With the black widow, sure,” Marc admitted. “But not with the other alter. We – ”
“Good morning, Marc Spector.”
Steven almost jumped out of his skin as he whirled on the voice with a yelp, very nearly tripping backwards over his own feet. Instinctively he clutched the teaspoon to his chest, flattening against the pantry. His voice came out as a yell. “Jesus H Christ!”
The voice belonged to the blonde woman he now saw leaning against the wall of the living area, arms folded, watching him with vague amusement. Steven froze in shock, staring at her as though she was a ghost. Marc seemed equally alarmed, his voice hammering through Steven’s skull. “Who the hell is that?”
The woman unfolded her arms, starting towards him. “Don’t!” Steven exclaimed, pointing the spoon at her with what he hoped was intimidating force. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll – I’ll…”
“Stab me with a spoon?” Her voice was low and husky, and even more thickly accented than Zara’s, though it sounded somewhat similar. “You should probably pick a better utensil, Marc Spector. I think there might be some forks in there.” She raised her hands, wiggling her fingers theatrically. “Maybe even a knife.”
Marc hissed a curse in his head. “She’s Russian.”
“Who are you?” Steven stammered, not dropping the spoon. “Tell me.”
“You don’t recognise me?” Her mouth quirked up. “You can drop the accent by the way, Marc Spector. I know you’re American.”
Slowly she walked forward, her hands still up as if in concession, though Steven didn’t need Marc to tell him that she was a threat. The spoon in Steven’s hand shook a little as she rounded the bench, accosting him like a cat cornering a mouse. “Steven,” Marc whispered. “Let me – ”
“Yelena?”
Zara appeared in the doorway suddenly, the two of them staring at her as if she were a ghost. The woman – Yelena, apparently – grinned widely. “Hi Zara. Long-time no see.”
Zara blinked at her. “Two weeks isn’t that long. And you said you were going to Washington.”
“I was.” Yelena said simply, reversing back around the corner of the kitchen bench, allowing Steven to release the breath that had caught in his lungs. Marc had gone deadly silent, and Steven could only stare at the two women, something warm sparking in Zara’s eyes. Yelena raised her eyebrows. “And you told me you were going to stay in New York.”
“I changed my mind,” Zara replied, her gaze briefly flicking to Steven. “There are plenty of widows who need help here, and you and Sonya were already in the States. I helped Alina just yesterday.”
Yelena paced towards her, wiggling her fingers again. “You didn’t tell me you were a superhero now.”
Zara frowned. “What?”
“A superhero, with the red and gold get-up,” Yelena explained, gesturing to the other widow’s form. “It looked pretty cool, I’ll be honest. A nice change from all the spandex the rest of them wear. And I appreciated you taking that bullet for me.” She grinned, her nose crinkling. “I guess I owe you one for that.”
For a split-second, Steven saw shock flash across Zara’s face.
“Oh shit,” Marc hissed in his head, his alarm becoming palpable. “Shit – Steven, I need the body now.”
But Steven was frozen in time, the cogs trying to turn over each other in his head as he stared at the two women, both of whom seemed to have forgotten he’d existed. Zara shook her head, her lips quirking up. “You knew it was me.”
“Not at first, but I realised pretty quickly. You got me good with that spinning kick.” Yelena touched her chest. “Still hurts, by the way.”
Something wild sparked in Zara’s eyes. “You almost split my eyebrow in half, so I’d say we can call it even.” They both laughed, and Steven felt like someone had scooped his brain out, thrown it in a blender, and hit frappe. Zara pulled out a chair then, sitting on it backwards, regarding her. “How did you really know it was me?”
Yelena leaned back against the bench, almost completely ignoring Steven now. “We were raised together in that place, Zara. It’s going to take a lot more than some weird armour for me to not know who you are.”
Suddenly all the pieces fell together in Steven’s mind, and he felt Marc blanch. “Wait, what? So you two were – ”
“Why is he British?” Yelena asked, her question entirely directed at Zara. “Tell him he doesn’t need to keep up the accent. It does not sound cool.”
“Steven,” Marc’s voice was back, even more urgent now. “I need the body. Right. Now.”
“Just wait a second,” Steven told him internally. “Zara won’t let her do anything.”
Marc bristled. “Damn it, Steven, we don’t have a second! She’s the one who – “
“You were hired to kill Marc.” Zara was looking at Yelena, but the simplicity of her statement hit Steven like a slap to the face. “Why?”
Yelena seemed a little taken aback, leaning back further, gesturing between the two of them. “What exactly is the relationship, here? I thought you hated mercenaries.”
Zara hesitated, glancing fleetingly back at Steven. “Let’s call him an exception.”
“Ah, come on,” Yelena screwed up her nose. “I don’t need all the gory details.”
“Steven,” Marc’s voice came back through again, but gentler this time. Steven knew that voice – it was his diplomatic tone. “She was hired to kill us. Please, give me the body.”
“They know each other,” Steven told him, though his resolve was hanging by a thread. He forced himself to straighten. “I’m not going to let you hurt someone Zara considers her family.”
Marc teemed with annoyance. “I’m not gonna attack her! I just want to be ready if she – ”
“What? Tries to kill us?” Steven set his jaw, though he wasn’t speaking aloud. “If that’s what she was here for, why wait for Zara to come out of the room?”
Marc paused, and Steven knew he’d got him. “Well, she could’ve – ”
“She had plenty of opportunity to off us before Zara woke up.” Steven argued, and Marc, for once, went silent. “So just relax, all right?”
“You were wearing the uniform last night. I didn’t think I’d ever see you in it again.” Zara was watching Yelena intently, but her eyes were soft. There was love here, Steven realised – and it was very likely the love that could still save their lives, if Zara could convince Marc’s would-be assassin not to go through with it.
Yelena’s face dropped. “It reminds me of her.”
Zara nodded solemnly. “She wouldn’t have wanted this for you, you know. To keep killing, even after the Red Room. None of us have to do that anymore, ‘Lena. We can do some good with ourselves, now.”
“You sound like her,” Yelena laughed, the sound bittersweet. Her demeanour had crumpled a little, a far cry from the confident and wily woman she’d been mere moments before. “Is that why you became a superhero? You wanted to be an Avenger, too?”
Steven furrowed his brows in confusion, but Marc was reeling, his voice a whisper. “Oh, holy shit.”
“I’m not a hero,” Zara murmured quietly, and Yelena looked up at her. “But I do want to protect the people I care about.” Her eyes flicked to him again, and Steven could’ve sworn his heart almost stopped. She looked back to Yelena. “Who wants Marc dead?”
Yelena pulled out the bar stool behind her and plonked herself down on it, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know.”
“What?” Steven blurted, and Yelena actually looked back at him, raising a quizzical brow. Steven swallowed, righting himself. “You were hired, yeah? How do you not know who hired you?”
Yelena snorted. “For a mercenary, you don’t seem to know much about how this works, Marc Spector.”
Zara bit her lip, deep in thought. “Can you tell us anything?”
Yelena groaned, running a hand through her blonde locks. “I go through a…how do you say…like a middle-man. I just get the target’s details – where they are, what they look like, all that.” She leaned back on the counter. “The rest is not really my business.”
Steven blanched. “Not your business? To not know who wants the people you’re going after murdered?”
Zara shot him a warning look, and Yelena turned on him. “I only go after people who deserve it, Marc Spector. People who’ve hurt others, who’ve killed innocents.” She pushed the sleeves of her jacket up, revealing thick black bracelets that looked suspiciously like they could fry his brains. “If you’re on that list, maybe you should be telling my friend here why that is.”
Steven physically flinched as though she’d struck him, and Marc seemed to recoil, retreating further into their mind. Escaping, as he often did, when his past was the topic of conversation. Steven felt the urge to defend him, but one look at Yelena told him it would get him nowhere. He looked to Zara but she didn’t look away from the other widow, her expression turning to stone. “So, what now?”
The two women watched each other for what felt like an eternity, as if a whole silent conversation was passing between them. Just as the silence became unbearable, Yelena stood up with a sigh, striding towards the open window. “My employer won’t be happy about me letting two consecutive targets live, but she still owes me a raise, so she’ll get over it.”
Steven’s eyes widened. “So you’re – you’re not going to kill me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Yelena said, regarding him briefly. “I’m not doing it for you.”
Zara’s eyes sparked, and she grinned warmly. “Thank you, ‘Lena.”
“You took a bullet for me. I owe you one.” Yelena shrugged, but her face had lit up. Suddenly a wire flicked out from her hand, attaching itself on the wall below the window. She stepped up onto the ledge, and Steven felt his stomach flip. “Just might have to budget a little this month.”
Zara smirked. “You could always go back to shopping at the army surplus.”
“Ha!” Yelena barked a laugh. “Suka.”
Zara chuckled. “Uvidimsya, suka.”
Yelena’s face cracked into a wide grin, throwing Zara a wink. Her hands found the window frame, and Steven had to wonder if all black widows were like this, or if he’d just met two of the more…eccentric ones. Finally Yelena turned back to them, waving her hand in a final farewell.
Then she fell backward through the window.
* * *
That night, Zara hit breaking point.
The rest of the day had been spent with them going separate ways – Zara to free another widow from the mind-control (which she hoped would simultaneously reduce the now ever-present assassination risk), and Marc and Steven across the city to his apartment. Steven had wanted to go back permanently, but both she and Marc knew it was too dangerous in the long run. Yelena had told Zara that she was currently the only operative in play who’d been trying to kill him, but once she told her employer that the deal was off, that wouldn’t last long, and they’d need to become lot harder to find. Still, Steven insisted the fish needed to be fed, and she figured they had time – it couldn’t hurt too much to let him visit while Yelena stalled for time, and they figured things out.
The widow she’d been after had proven difficult to find, and by the time Zara made it back to the safehouse, it was well into the night. Her bones ached as she climbed the stairs, the new bruises slowly blossoming on her skin as she came through the door, deadbolting it behind her. Steven was practically passed out on the couch, sprawled out like a cat, and she sighed. Of course, the idiot had tried (and failed) to wait up for her. Zara tutted, retrieving a blanket from one of the bedrooms and pulling it over his body. A warmth flooded her chest as he stirred, but she was glad he didn’t wake up. If Steven Grant (and Marc Spector, for that matter) needed anything in the world, it was sleep.
Zara shook her head, her voice a whisper. “Goodnight, you two.”
The memory of Marc screaming the night before pervaded her every thought as she made her way into her bed, her heart clenching in pain. With any luck, he’d escape the nightmares tonight, and actually sleep straight through until morning. If there was any justice in the world, there would be no horrors waiting for him in his dreams.
It was a hope that she should’ve also spared for herself.
Zara practically passed out the second her head hit the pillow, her mind falling deep into that endless abyss. And then it began.
She was on a boat. An enormous, wooden vessel, sailing across the desert sands of home – except instead of the glaring sun, the world was bathed in a dim, almost purplish light. The boat was moving slowly, the sands shifting around her like ocean waves as she glanced around, swaying with the vessel as it moved forward. A light in the distance seared her eyes, and suddenly Zara was aware of a large set of scales, standing alone in the very centre of the boat. A sudden howling sound came from behind her and she whirled, reaching for her swords – but all she found was air. The armour of Sekhmet did not appear, the strands of red and gold refusing to wrap around her in defence. Her goddess did not speak in her head, and Zara’s blood ran cold.
Wherever she was, she was alone.
The jackals came as they always did, but unlike her other dreams since the Great Pyramid, they did not give chase. They didn’t have to. She had nowhere to run.
They were smaller than usual – their coats the hue of midnight, their eyes shimmering in the dim light as they circled her, like sharks circling their prey. Zara felt her breath catch in her throat, her hands twitching at her sides, desperate for some form of defence. Suddenly all of the jackals stilled, still watching her with their obsidian eyes, the largest among them stalking forward. Zara stepped back instinctively, but it was no use – she was surrounded. There was no way out.
Just when she thought it couldn’t get any weirder, the jackal opened its mouth and spoke.
Zara Fathi.
Zara practically jumped backwards, feeling the air leave her lungs in a sharp gasp. The jackal’s voice was gravelly, the glint of its eyes looking strangely familiar in the dim light. Zara’s entire body was taut as a wire and she froze, wide-eyed, staring at the canine creature in front of her. The jackal nodded its head at her, the thunderous voice emanating from its maw.
Avatar of Sekhmet. It is good to finally see you again.
That voice. The jackal. Slowly the pieces fell together in her mind, painting the final picture, and Zara swallowed. “Anubis?”
Indeed. The jackal nodded again, his unblinking gaze fixed on her. I have been trying to get your attention for some time.
Zara swayed a little on her feet. “You’ve been in my dreams since the Pyramid. Why?”
Anubis raised his head. I owe you a debt, Zara Fathi. I do not like to leave such a thing outstanding.
“You don’t owe me anything,” Zara responded quickly, raising her hands. “You’re a god.”
And you are the one who freed me, Anubis rumbled. I am indebted to you for that, which creates an imbalance. His eyes flicked behind her, to the scales. And I do not like to remain unbalanced.
Zara stepped back again, almost directly into the scales behind her, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly. “Okay,” she relented, wary. “What does that mean? What do you want me to do?”
Anubis considered her. Normally, in such a scenario, I would reward you by appointing you as my Avatar.But given that you already serve the Eye of Ra – he cocked his head, a hint of canine teeth flashing. I do not think Sekhmet would approve of me doing such a thing.
Even in jackal form, Anubis was strangely human, and Zara could not stop herself from scanning his features to look for clues. Her first instinct was that he must be toying with her, but that wouldn’t make sense. None of it did. But gods rarely made sense, she’d come to find – it simply wasn’t in their nature.
After a long moment, Zara nodded. “So, what then? How is this settled?”
Anubis seemed to grin, a flash of white. I will grant you a favour, Avatar of Sekhmet – as a way of repaying your release of me from my imprisonment.
Zara reeled. “A wish? What, like a genie?”
One favour, Anubis confirmed, though he didn’t seem particularly impressed with the genie comparison. One favour of your choosing, and the scales between us are balanced. But choose wisely, Zara Fathi.Once your choice is made, it cannot be undone. And there will not be another.
Zara balked, thrown completely off-balance. This was all too much – the swaying of the boat, the shifting ocean of sand, the god before her in jackal form, offering her a favour. Desperately she pinched herself, but it was no use. There would be no waking from this dream until Anubis willed it. She glanced back at him. “How long do I have to decide?”
His unblinking gaze bored into her, his eyes as dark as an abyss. I will return to you in three days. I expect, by then, that your choice will be made. Then he nodded, the jackals around her beginning to file back through the door from which they came. I will find you then, Zara Fathi. You have a decision to make.
The boat swerved suddenly, the light getting ever closer, bathing her surroundings in gold. In a flash Anubis had disappeared, leaving Zara alone with the scales and the rocking vessel. The light seared her eyes again, swallowing up all she could see.
And then she woke up.