#Moon Knight for about a month

[age-of-moonknight]

“Tigra,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #2.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[yakkety-yak-art]

Some sketches for my half thought out takes on the Moon Knight system because I’m obsessed w Egyptology and also Moon Knight sooo. The info in the images are just bullet points for me to remember but I have Many Thoughts mostly related to Khonsu and his aspects (I use Khonsu to refer to the deity, and Khonshu to refer to the character) and how they relate to the system. Ramble paragraph below about appearances and Khonsu stuff lol.

it’s hard to tell because they’re sketches and I’m bad at making faces look the same, but Jake and Marc look more similar on purpose. I wanted to find a bit of a middle ground between all of the system having their “internal appearance” match the body like in the show and comics, and each of them looking completely different, as from what I understand that can vary from system to system. So Steven and Aviva are completely different in appearance, but if you were somehow able to show Jake and Marc’s appearances to someone they would assume the two are related somehow. Steven’s appearance is based off of his/Marc/Jake’s appearance in the comics, and Aviva looks essentially like her comic appearance, where she is unnamed and only referred to as “Inner Child”. She has red hair. Part of the reason I wanted to have varying appearance was also for Khonsu related reasons; I wanted to have a young alter, two middle ones, and an older one to help represent Khonsu’s changing age. He was often portrayed as a youth, or portrayed as aging throughout the year to his death and being born at the start of the new year. Steven isn’t much younger than Marc and Jake isn’t much older than Marc, but I wanted to try and make it clear that there’s a spectrum of ages in the system to reference Khonsu’s associations with time. Also, Khonsu in general has way more associations with children, birth, fertility, etc than is usually explored in Moon Knight media (usually he’s shown as having a soft spot/being particularly concerned with the safety of kids and young adults, which is good and in theme) and I wanted to have that be more present since the comics do already draw parallels between Khonshu’s (the character) aspects and the system. So here all of Khonsu’s aspects are represented by one or more of the system members, with Khonshu himself representing older portrayals/aspects of Khonsu as violent and more malevolent

Also to clarify about appearances: to outside observers, they all look the same as they are all parts of one mind in one body. (I don’t have DID, but I did seek out and read perspectives written by systems as well as general info about it, because just knowing the technical symptoms cannot inform you of the spectrum of real experiences with DID; I’m not an expert obviously and these people’s experiences are only representative of specific points on a spectrum, but I do wanna be respectful towards people with DID and so my wording here is based on my understanding of their own perspectives and preferred terms while also keeping in mind the deliberate parallels to Khonsu’s mythology that’s baked into Moon Knight. If anything in this post is worded poorly or offensively, please let me know and I will be happy to change it.)

[samingtonwilson]

just got nauseous thinking about the men i was once attracted to

[pechaberriesandsoju]

When you wanna talk about one of your f/os / crushes in a mutual's server, but you can't cause you know that one ex friend is still in there, even though you have them blocked, you know that if you talk about these characters they're gonna go snitching to the other ex friend who more than likely will throw a fit and maybe even figure out a way to harass me over it.

[lildoodlenoodle]

First things first(spoilers for spiderverse/spidergeddon and comic noir storyline) this is a long post but you’ll have fun I promise. As always feel free to engage with the post, I’d love to hear different theories/opinions/conclusions on this in the tags or comments. Sorry it took so long!

Now I’m gonna say something morbid:

Spider Noir’s death in the comics was hilarious

Jarring, but hilarious. Like why’d he grab him like that. I physically had to shut off my iPad and go for a walk after this scene when I first read it.

But to my point, you know how some people say your birth mark is how you died in your last life?

Well post resurrection we might have A, B, and C:

(Now before anyone gets on me for, why would you do that/even think of this? In my defense, I couldn’t remember where he was grabbed, it’s been a while since I’ve read these. I thought it was gonna be on his back or shoulder and I’d give him a burned on handprint going all ‘gripped you tight and raised from perdition’ which is cool, fun, sexy, and conveniently hidden. Then I reread it and it’s basically a permanent face palm. Also pretend his face looks the same in every one. Couldn’t decide on hair either lol.)

Either way post resurrection Peter should have physical after effects of his resurrection. Either lines all over his body from having the life force sucked out of him or birth/burn marks on his face. I think this would be hilarious, angsty, and interesting. I also hate when people are just resurrected willynilly. LET THE TRAUMA OF DYING AND COMING BACK TAKE ITS TOLE. Especially if it’s multiple times.

In MK: Midnight Mission they, pretty recently, came up against this problem with the MK system being resurrected over and over again and facing really no visible consequences. But then we find out, there isn’t really a limit(ignoring the whole Khonshu imprisonment), but eventually mentally, there will be nothing left to resurrect. And the mindless mummy warrior creatures we meet from Khonshu’s ‘world’ were old avatars that wasted away from resurrections. It explains the alterations and perversions of the MK system’s mental conditions, because they are actively being altered and changed, to be brought back, by a multidimensional creature that doesn’t care about their mental health/state(that Khonshu takes advantage of, knowing what he’s doing). Sound familiar?

Now, time to get philosophical. Ship of Theseus.

What is it? Ship of Theseus is an ideological/philosophy problem about a king, Theseus, who saved the children of Athens from king Minos and the Minotaur and then sailed his ship to Delos. Then each year Athenians would sail that same ship from Athens to Delos in celebration of the myth. Over time they kept replacing parts of the ship for maintenance purposes, till every plank had been replaced, so they could still make the voyage. Now the question is, is it still the same ship? At what point did it stop becoming that original ship? And does it matter?

Applying this philosophical exercise to resurrection, with what we know above, we can get an interesting dialogue going. But, with that said, it’s important to keep in mind that the resurrection process in this context with these multidimensional gods isn’t explained with enough detail to really take it apart. Like what happens to the soul? Is the brain damage we know Marc has from repeatedly dying and his brain repeatedly going without oxygen or is it from just interacting with a multidimensional god? Is the spider god comparable to Khonshu? Is the spider god even real, if not what or how was Peter actually resurrected? And if it is real, what is its main goal? At least with Khonshu we know he has an agenda. What does it want, what’s its end game?

But let’s get into it anyways.

Now, you may be wondering, why do I keep saying multiple resurrections in regards to Spider noir? I am so glad you asked! I believe Peter's initial spider bite killed him. He had to go to the afterlife to actually see the spider god. That’s why we really only see them three times, at the initial power conception, Peter’s resurrection, and when Peter goes to the ‘underworld’ in the 2020 run. We see something similar with Khonshu in Midnight mission, while he’s in space jail, Marc can only see him during resurrections or while he’s dead. And while we’re comparing the MK system to spider noir, when Marc got his powers, he basically had to die first. That was implied to be his first resurrection. So this wouldn’t be a one off situation. We have some rules.

What we don’t see with Moonknight and Khonshu is visual physical change. Outside of the ghost bird skull armor the boys aren’t visually changing. Meanwhile, Peter has physically turned into a monster before and turned completely back. In #4/5 of the 2020 noir run the cicada stone/pink meteor turns people into monsters, but not everyone. Huma turns, Shocker turns, Peter turns, and all the resurrected villains(one guy just explodes). But Hu-Ri and Checkpoint Red don’t, until Hu-Ri touches the stone. Huma and Peter are both in close proximity to eldritch beings, them turning into inspired versions of those beings make sense. The Shocker turns because he spent so much time holding onto the stone, whereas Red hasn't. But notice Shocker and Hu-Ri don’t turn into an animal inspired version of themselves like Huma and Peter do, he becomes more of a hulk like creature, because he isn’t attached to an other-worldly being. And when Peter turned back he essentially said “that hurt like a bitch” and kept moving.

If we want to keep with the canon noir timeline and going with the idea that the Spider god is either continuously changing Peter, or just changing him during resurrections this would explain the webbing and mood/personality change from the 2009 comics to the 2020 comics. But that’s boring and too simple and I hate the time jump so fuck that shit.(again another post).

So let’s focus back on ‘Ship of Theseus’ in the context of resurrection. We have too many questions about the process of resurrection for spider noir to properly have this conversation, but I’m going to try anyways. Let’s hit what we know again: resurrection changes your brain chemistry/structure, the spider god is changing Peter throughout the series, Peter has possibly had three resurrections, the spider god resurrected Peter from a different dimension, which confirms this is a multidimensional being(if she exists but shhhh). So now that we’ve established that there are changes happening to Peter(one way or another) we know that the spider god is ‘repairing’ Peter throughout the series or ‘replacing his boards’ so to speak.

At what point is this no longer Peter? Is it when he is no longer recognizable as a human? Or is it when there is nothing left in his mind to resurrect? Or has this never been Peter, or rather not since his first resurrection when he got his powers? Is this change sudden or slow? Is it the resurrection that turns him into something else, is it slow build up like an Iodine Clock titration and one day he just wakes up no longer human, or is it a slow process of subtle changes? But if the latter, what’s the change that does it? What defines Peter’s humanity? Does it matter if he’s human or not? Does it change anything for him if he’s no longer human in body and mind?

Part of the answer may lie in the villains we see through the 2009 and 2020 runs. In the first run the main villains were the Goblin and the Vulture. Both who were implied to not be human or having physical inhuman qualities(but I’m partially ignoring the whole carney thing cause honestly it’s ableist and boring). In Eyes Without A Face, the second run, the main villains are the Crime Master and Dr. Octavious, both humans with no inhuman or supernatural qualities. For simplicity sake, let’s focus on Octavious and Goblin. In comparing the two I think most people would agree Octavious is the more heinous of the two. Goblin takes on the role of a mob boss. He runs a crime empire, exploiting the defenseless in New york. It’s nothing new and he’s even somewhat sympathetic ‘I’m finished with freakshows’, you can understand how he got where he is. This is not to say he isn’t a villain but he very much fits the ‘villain with a tragic backstory’. People look at him like he is a monster, we, the reader, start out the story knowing what he is.

Whereas Octavious is not even remotely sympathetic because there is no empathizing with how he ended up there and why he does what he does. He is not only othered by his actions but also by the narrative for his disability(it’s important to acknowledge the ableism in his story but that is another post). Ultimately his delusions and the acts he commits make him a much more sinister monster than Norman, despite Norman actually having stereotypical qualities of a monster.

Then we have Huma and Shocker from the 2020 run. Huma is the closest person we see who is in a similar situation to Peter in terms of the spider god. While we don’t know all the details, whether she is the same as Peter, bearing a curse of power, or the actual god. Either way she presents as human and is not treated differently than any other human woman. At the end of the series we realize how corrupt she is and that she’s been working with Nazi’s, not necessarily for the ideology but to achieve what she wants. Her transformation is the nail in her coffin of her monsterous perception. The question is did we need her to look like a monster to see her as one?

In general we are left with more questions and theories than answers.

But onto my subjective answers to the questions. My answers might change over time so don’t hold me to them.

Of course it matters if Peter has humanity. Peter Parker across the board is one of the characters who HAS to hold himself to a moral code or he falls apart and becomes the villain(well maybe not the villain but you know what I mean) of the story. He holds back during fights and has a no kill policy for a reason.(Good men don’t need rules, today is not the day to find out why I have so many.-dr.who) But noir Peter isn’t your typical Peter. He kills, he maims, he doesn’t hold back. With that said, he still is held together by his morality. It’s just different than what we are used to seeing from Peter, but don’t mistake that as a lack of morality. However, do I think it’s a very real possibility that this morality could be eroded over time especially considering his home world and the above circumstances? Absolutely. Peter is someone who historically needs someone to ground him and ‘make’ him human. This is normally May Parker, Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, occasionally Harry Osborn, Daredevil, Johnny Storm, and Flash Thompson, and the ghost of Ben Parker. Dude lives by a passing saying of a dead relative, he clearly doesn’t have a super solid moral compass. I think this is part of the reason the noir comics kept his relationship with May and Mary Jane(I disagree but whatever whatever), because he needs support to stay grounded.

Now, under what circumstances is Peter no longer Peter? I’m going with the Iodine Clock titration theory. Just drop after drop of ‘changes’ and morally questionable decisions that don’t seem to hold much weight, until he does something truly off the reservation. Like seeing himself do something truly horrific that a couple years ago he would have never done and shocking himself out of it. Or looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a person staring back. For either circumstance, because he’s appalled with himself or struck by the fact he doesn’t really care. This is not to say I don’t think he could come back from this but holy shit will it be a process.

But it brings us back to ‘If there is too much power then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away.’ Peter losing his humanity puts him in the Goblin’s place as the one with great power that cannot be trusted from the first comic. Whether it’s the resurrections, the spider god ‘replacing’ parts of him, or him just being pushed to the brink mentally that does it. Whether the change is physical, neurological, spiritual, or mental. This ‘Peter’ is not the Peter we first meet in 1932.

This is a different ship, and you can sail and stay on the same course in memory of, or under the false pretense of being, the original as many times as you want, but you cannot bring back the parts you replaced and undo the ‘improvements’ you made. But that doesn’t need to make Peter a monster.

[neverkayzat]

I never stated this before, but!

From the 2014 Ellis run and Mackay’s 2021 run respectively; I adore how Mackay makes references, even to more older runs that many people don’t—

From the new Vengeance of MK; Mackay. MACKAY.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

A Safe Place: Part 5

Summary: Jake has one happy place. His pride and joy and comfort. When things go south, this is what he turns to.

Marc has started to rely on Jake to be his solid force. The unshakable rock that keeps them all stable.

Steven knows better. They are all delicately balanced on a thin wire.

What happens when one of them takes a spill?

Pairings: LaylaxMarc, LaylaxJake, LaylaxSteven

Universe: MCU

Warnings: Dissociation, Depression, DID, Habits of self destruction, discussion of mild self harm, talk of child abuse, depictions of eating disorders (in relation to depression), PTSD

Word Count: 7358

Previous Chapter HERE

Part: Five - The car is back! But the damage is done. Jake's idea of a perfect and safe place has been broken. Can the others help rebuild it?

Next Chapter Coming soon.

-----

Is this what I’m like? Marc watched the body pace. There is no way I’m this bad. I’m not this bad. 

“Yup.” Steven had to focus. It was taking everything in his willpower to keep them contained. “Worse. Way worse.” 

Thanks buddy. Marc knew Steven didn’t mean it to be offensive. He was on high alert damage control and couldn’t soften the blow like he usually did. Can I help? 

“Nope.” The body paced around the small space in the flat at a dizzying pace. “I got this. You just… You just sit there.” 

Marc felt bad just watching. He’d never actually seen Steven work before. Not like this. Though, to be fair, usually when Steven had to work, it was Marc that was causing the problem. 

Speaking of the problem, he could feel the ball of anxiety growing inside them. 

Layla had made an executive decision that she alone would go get the car. She would find out what state it was in and then report back. It was a decision that Jake had rebelled against. 

Words had been said and Layla had put her foot down. Perhaps it was the long night she had spent on the floor worried about the men she loved. Perhaps it was the night she had spent calming Marc down. Or maybe it was the night she had spent waking up after her husband had woken up thrashing from a nightmare… 

Either way, when she had told them to sit their asses down and wait for her, they had taken a seat and watched her leave. 

Marc knew she was trying to protect them. If the car was totalled and trashed, she knew that it wouldn’t end well. She was trying to prevent a total meltdown. At least a public one.

It’s going to be trashed stripped down for parts radio gone tires slashed wires cut banged up crashed broken scrap heap gone gone gone fucking gone the car is gone broken pieces of pieces

Jake was loud. It was hard to ignore him. Marc had never heard Jake be this loud before. He was used to Steven prattling on and on and on… But Jake was always notoriously silent when not in control. 

“You gotta relax, mate.” Steven mumbled. “Breathe. Settle. Just stop thinking about it for a minute, okay? You’re making me want to jump out the bloody window.” 

The anxiety was rough. It leaked out of Jake and spread to the already anxiety ridden other two like poison. 

I have to go get it. Taking too long. Gotta go get it. I should have gone. What if she can’t drive it? What if it’s…Where will they take it? Can’t leave it there. Need….Need to call a garage. Towed there… Get it checked over. I know a guy. Call him. Steven call him. Let me call him. I need to-

“Bloody wait a minute!” Steven ran his hands through his hair and paced harder. “Just wait. Okay? Let Layla look it over and call us. If it’s bad, she will tell us. If we need to call a garage, we can call a garage. No sense in getting worked up like this.” 

There was a fight. For once, Marc wasn’t at the center. 

In the scuffle Marc blinked in and found himself beyond disoriented as he looked around then down at the body. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Everyone was in a panic and stressed and in pain. He was the last person that should be left in charge in times like this. He was the bloody fist, not the gentle hug or quick retreat. 

Marc stopped the pacing and did what he did best and stood firmly still in the middle of the room. He could picture himself rooted to the spot. Nothing would knock them down. 

It was hard to function and focus with the commotion inside. He closed his eyes and pushed it all away. It was what he used to do, after all. 

Locking down his feelings. Locking down the situation. Locking down the body. 

Perhaps a little too locked down. 

Everything faded a bit and the world muffled out. All movement stopped and he only felt a little bit of guilt. He knew that when this happened that no one was going to get in. 

“Sorry Steven.” He thought he could feel the etching of Steven poking at the barrier as he tried to take charge again. 

Time passed, though it felt like years were stretching out and rushing past in seconds. 

Marc. He could hear Steven calling. Marc the phone.

Marc couldn’t move. He was too rooted to the spot in a time and place where nothing else existed. 

Pendejo! The phone! Jake snapped.  Oye, Steven. He’s stuck. 

Oh, now you want me to do it? Steven snipped back at him. That’s cute. ‘Steven don’t stop me from causing problems but don’t let someone else cause problems either’ What a fine deal. 

He could feel a collective pull and the body responded. There was a hard blink as the room came back into focus around them and they sat down. He reached out a hand and felt the floor then slowly moved it to pull the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Mn.” It was the best he could do. 

There was a pause and all three of them strained to listen. “I’m at the impound. So the good news first, okay?” Layla was trying to be as delicate as she could and it set off alarm bells in their anxiety pit. 

Marc gripped tighter, digging in as he pushed back against both of them that wanted control. Steven often called it ‘The Marc Rock’. When he settled in so hard that there was no hope of bumping him. Jake called it a pain in his ass. 

“Yeah.” He had no idea what the proper response was supposed to be. 

“It starts!” She cheered and he could feel that she had hoped to be speaking to Steven. Reliable, optimistic and full of hope Steven. He could do Steven. He had practice. 

“Fantastic.” He forced a smile and the accent muddled as he remained monotone despite his best efforts. “That’s fantastic. Does it drive?” 

He felt the heavy pause as Layla processed the dry rendition of Steven Grant. Thankfully she chose to not address it just yet. “Yeah. It drives.” She sighed. “More good news is that it isn’t smashed up either! They didn’t crash it. The police said that this was rare. Usually the car gets abandoned because they crash it.” 

Was Jake supposed to respond? He dropped the smile and started to rock a little. He didn’t know how to pull off Jake. “Great. Glad they didn’t fucking crash it. Cheers to them. Real saints we’re dealing with.” 

Marc started to feel the anxiety rise. She was keeping something back. He could feel Jake like an angry tiger pacing inside. 

“Just… Give me the bad news.” Marc slid a hand through his hair, feeling his insides start to coil. 

“They broke the door handle and lock to get into the car. Didn’t scratch it though! Just… Ripped it clean off. They also broke off the cover under the steering wheel. There could be more but I’m no mechanic. That’s just the obvious stuff. Oh, and your bag of supplies is missing.” 

They all waited for more. When Layla didn’t continue they all let out a breath no one knew they were holding. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Layla sounded a little flustered. “That’s it?” 

“Yeah.” Marc frowned and stared down at his trembling hand. “So… Do we get to drive it home or do they need like… forensics or some shit?” 

“They’re done with it. There’s not much else the police can do. Don’t expect them to find the guy either. Not much help really. I have to pay a fee just to get it out of the impound lot too.” She was grumbling and he could tell she was eyeing someone nearby. Layla had no qualms about telling people off when needed. 

“That’s fine.” He breathed out and dug his fingers into his leg to stop the trembling. “You know the parking space. Just… Just put it there.” 

Not safe. Not there. Taken once before. Anywhere else. Gotta move it. Gotta protect it. What if they come back? What if they trash it? What if others come? What if-

“Fuck. Just… Fine. It’s fine. Just… Put it… Put it there. Put it back. Okay?” He dug in harder, struggling to be the rock and hold his calm. 

“Is this Marc?” She had lowered her voice, further confirming that she was near enough to someone else for them to hear her conversation. 

Marc paused and frowned as he dug his fingers into his leg further. “Yeah. Yeah. Pretty sure it’s me. I’m… Having a… Jake says just put the car back.” 

She was quiet again and he rocked harder. 

“Please.” He breathed out. “Steven says we can’t go out. We’re actually pretty messed up right now.” He admitted and winced. Why was he telling her that? Now she would be worried. “Sorry.” He cursed under his breath and felt the panic rising. 

“Marc, honey?” She was talking softly. “Listen to me. Okay? Listen to the sound of my voice. Do you hear me?” 

Marc closed his eyes tightly and tried to block out the panic. It wasn’t his. He knew it wasn’t his. Was it? He always felt some level of anxious. He was a walking panic attack on the best of days. A simmering breakdown that was always waiting to unleash. A slow speed car crash that just never really got done crashing. 

“Yeah.” He tapped a finger on the phone rapidly. 

“Okay.” She let out a frustrated sigh and he imagined her standing in some station glaring down anyone in her way. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Marc could feel Steven nagging at him for control again. He could feel Jake freaking out. Here he was in the way. He wasn’t letting Steven do his job. He wasn’t helping Jake stay calm. He was sitting there like a lump. He couldn’t even go with his own wife to pick up his own damn car that wasn’t even registered in his own name. 

 “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Marc winced again and wished he’d let Steven answer the phone. “What do I do? I can’t fuck this up. Jake’s freaking out and Steven can’t get through. I’m stuck. I’m fucking this up!” 

He looked around the apartment. What was he supposed to do? Why was he in charge now? Was he supposed to be calling someone about the car? Was there something he could do to help calm Jake down? 

“You aren’t fucking anything up.” Layla’s strong voice came through. “Listen to me, Marc. You are going to be okay. You have nothing to panic over. The car is fine. It isn’t your problem. Steven is fine. Jake is fine. You are going to be fine.” 

Marc shook his head though he knew Layla couldn’t see it. “I’m in the way. I can’t get out of the way. I need Steven. He’s dealing with Jake. I’m just making this worse. I just make it worse.” 

“Where are you right now?” She was louder this time, making sure he heard her. 

“I’m… I’m in the apartment. On the floor.” He flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. “I want a drink.” He admitted out loud. 

“Please don’t.” She whispered now. “I’m not there to stop you. You and I both know you have a bottle hidden in the cupboard. You and I also both know that it won’t help anything.” 

Marc flushed, angry for a moment at her then at himself. He sighed and looked over at the cupboard. “I won’t.” He was quiet as he felt the body suddenly ground and become real. 

He hated it. 

“How far out are you?” He imagined there was paperwork and all sorts of crap she had to do. 

“I’m actually about to start driving. Just signed the last release form.” She sounded relieved. Probably eager to get home to her messed up husband before he trashed himself. 

Marc stood up. “Great. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up and moved before the others could start pestering him again. 

He dressed in a hurry and rushed out the door. Steven would disapprove if he knew. Maybe he wanted Steven to be mad at him. 

He was halfway down the street when he felt a gentle nudge from Steven, asking what was going on and where they were going. 

Marc ignored it and picked up the pace. He felt a crawl of anxiety as Jake came back from whatever time-out Steven had put him in. 

They were both painfully aware of where they were when Marc turned down the familiar street with the row of parked cars. 

Not a good idea, Marc. Steven warned. 

“We have to do it at some point. You going to just keep us locked up all week? Just rip off the bandaid.” He grumbled as he walked. 

At the empty parking space, he planted his feet like two stones and waited. He could feel Jake’s urge to pace and Steven’s urge to fidget. Folding his arms, he stood still and waited. This time he could feel the stiffness of his joints, the ache in his back, the tension in his muscles… 

The car turned the corner and Marc gritted his teeth as he felt Jake leap up like a lump in his throat. “Fuck off.” Marc grumbled. “Give us a minute, and you can check out your stupid car all you want.” 

It was that easy. Jake stepped back and Marc watched as Layla pulled up then carefully parked the car. She sat in it for a moment and looked out the window at him. She knew it was him. No one else stood like Marc Spector. 

No one else managed to look as pissed off with such a neutral face. 

She sighed and opened the door. “Hey.” 

Marc looked at her then his eyes slid to the door. “Fuck.” He slowly took a step forward and touched where the door handle used to be. 

A bit of plastic still jutted out where it had broken off. There was a slightly scuffed hole where the lock had been. He traced it and felt a weight in his hand. 

“Stop it.” He muttered as his hand started to tremble. “You can fix this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the discarded lock from when they had first found the car missing. “No sense in crying about it, Lockley. You know how to fix this better than anyone.” 

Layla raised an eyebrow and stepped aside as Marc got into the car. 

Marc quickly looked the car over as his training kicked in. He knew what it was supposed to look like and feel like. He could almost sense what had been altered. 

Pieces of plastic and a couple of screws were on the floor. The cover that went under the steering wheel had been removed in a hurry. He checked the bundles of wires and found them still intact. 

His eyes traveled to the ignition and he found a large empty hole. He traced the area and slowly looked the thing over. It was scuffed up pretty badly but at least it looked like it might still work. All he needed was a screwdriver. Or something flat. 

“Tch. Amateurs.” He had hotwired more than a few cars in his time.  “You could have done better and left the damn thing pristine.” 

Sitting up in the seat, he put his hands on the steering wheel. Slowly turning it he found no resistance and it felt stable. Since Layla drove it, he assumed it turned well enough and that the brakes and gas still worked too. He slipped the key into the flat area and gave it a hard turn. 

His heart was in his throat again as he listened to the engine turn over then start.

The check engine light flickered on and held. The idiot had probably jostled something while fumbling around. 

He sat back, adjusting the seat and moved to pull the door closed. Clicking the lock button a few times to make sure that hadn’t been broken. The windows went down then up and he adjusted the mirror. 

Satisfied, Marc closed his eyes and slowly relaxed. “You good?” 

He took a glance at himself in the rearview mirror and his eyes sharpened and his lips tightened. 

“Fuck you.” Jake’s grip tightened on the wheel for a moment then he breathed out slowly. “Yeah. It… It’s fixable.” 

He slumped forward and rested his forehead on the wheel for a moment. “I can fix it.” Jake let out a long and slow breath then took another one. “I’ll order the parts. It’s going to be a pain to get the ignition fixed but…  I’ve worked with worse. Thanks, Marc.” 

He listened to the car running for a moment then reached over and flipped on the radio. 

Station one. Classical piano drifted out at them. Moving through the buttons, he found a few of them had been changed, but he could easily put them back. 

Are you alright? Steven was closer than they realized. Standby for damage support if needed. 

Jake nodded. 

There was a light tap on the window and he looked up to find Layla standing there. 

Are you going to let her in? 

Jake felt his chest tighten. Someone else had been in his car. They had invaded his space. They had touched everything and left his personal space feeling broken and wrong. 

His hands gripped the wheel till his knuckles whitened. He suddenly had tunnel vision and felt like nothing would ever be right again. 

Steven took the body back hard in a rough show of force. He turned off the car and sat still, breathing slowly. 

Slowly he opened the door and got out. “Hey.” He smiled up at Layla sheepishly. “Thanks for getting the car. We all appreciate it.” 

She eyed Steven and pulled her hair to the side. It was a warning move that let him know that she was very much aware of there being a problem and she wasn’t going to put up with lies or evasions. 

Steven slumped a bit. “Marc’s fine. He handled things brilliantly, actually. He might be a bit irritated for a bit, though. That took a lot out of him. Jake is… He’s taking a break. Don’t get me wrong! He’s thrilled the car is back and not totalled. Outright relieved! He’s just… this is a lot.” 

Layla looked at him for a moment then gently grabbed his hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, letting him lean into her fully. “How are you doing, Steven?” 

Steven melted into her, letting his hands clench at the fabric of her coat gently for a moment before he reluctantly let her go. “I’m pretty tired…” He admitted at last. “Taking care of Marc is one thing… I don’t know how to take care of Jake.” 

He closed the door and locked it. Normally they would pull the handle to double check it was locked but his hand just smacked into the place the handle had been. Steven let out a long sigh and leaned back against the car. He could still feel Jake’s anxiety crawling up the pipeline. 

“I mean, it makes sense…” Steven threw his hands in the air. “Jake’s a veteran too. He’s been to war. He’s faced worse battles than Marc since he’s the one that has to save our stupid butts all the time. He’s sitting in there acting like nothing phases him all the time. He has memories I don’t have or want! He has memories that Marc can’t even handle. If Marc knew about that last one he shared…” 

Steven shook his head. He felt like he had failed at something critical and it hurt to think about. “I don’t get him. I don’t know what he needs or wants. He doesn’t talk to us. I think Marc gets him better than I do. I wanted us to just stay home and not think about the car. I thought if we came out here he’d melt down and that would be it. Marc’s the one that knew Jake needed to see it as a controlled problem. I think I’m just making it worse.” 

“I thought you did a pretty good job last night.” She moved to lean against the car next to him. “Not a lot of people would have put up with that.” 

“Yeah well… That was easy. He was scared. I understand that.” Steven brushed it off. “He just needed to feel safe.” 

“Does he not still need that?” 

He looked over at her. “Everyone deserves to feel safe, Layla…” 

“What makes you feel safe?” She looked at him softly. 

Steven thought about it for a long moment. “Marc.” He blushed and ducked his head down. “He watched over me for such a long time. Even when everything was falling apart, he still went out of his way to protect me… Even when it hurt him.” 

She smiled at that. “Even when he’s being difficult?” 

“Well, yeah. Even when he’s a plonker. I know that he’s a solid rock of a plonker that would stand up and fight for me if I needed it.” Steven grinned. 

“Does he know that?” She nudged his shoulder and took his hand in hers. 

Steven squeezed her hand. He searched inside but found Marc had pulled away a bit. “I think so. I hope so. I’ve told him before. He doesn’t take compliments well.” 

“I know.” Layla sighed. “One day he might get it. We just have to keep trying.” 

He nodded then looked at her with a shy smile. “You know what makes Marc feel safe?” 

“What’s that?” 

“You.” 

It was Layla’s turn to blush and look away. “Hardly. I’m always arguing with him and setting him off. He ran away from me and pretended to be dead!” 

“Marc’s always running from the things that he needs.” Steven squeezed her hand tightly. “But if he’s feeling lost or scared I guarantee that when you pull him into your lap and stroke his hair it makes him feel like nothing could ever hurt us again.” 

It was her turn to be pulled in as he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face against his chest for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of Marc’s clothes. 

“What about Jake?” She looked up at him, reluctant to pull away. “What makes him feel safe?” 

“I thought it was the car.” Steven chewed his lower lip for a moment as he mulled it over. “It makes him happy. Gives him space he can control. Gives him the ability to be free…” 

He pictured the two memories again. Jake hiding in the closet and Jake hiding in the car. The car did make him feel safe… But it was just as easily taken away. The closet hadn’t been safe, yet he had still crawled in there when he felt overwhelmed. 

“Jake has a pretty small bubble.” She nodded. “I don’t think he’s used to people looking out for him. Maybe he doesn’t know what safe feels like.” 

Steven nodded. He’d do anything to make Jake feel safe again. To show Jake just how much he appreciated him. 

“Hey, Layla?” 

“Hmm?” She looked up at him, still buried in his shirt. 

“What makes you feel safe?” 

She grinned and slid her hands inside his jacket to run them up over his back, giving him a hefty squeeze. “Did you know that Marc gives the best hugs in the world?” 

She felt silly the second she’d asked. Of course Steven didn’t. It was impossible for him to ever be on the receiving end of one of those huge pick you up and spin you hugs. 

Steven gave her a silly secretive grin. “Yeah… I… I do, actually.” 

She gave him a puzzled look but he just shook his head. “I want to head back to the apartment now… But I’m really worried about leaving the car in this state.” 

What are they going to do? Steal it again? Marc muttered. Thieves don’t go after cars that have already obviously been broken into. They assume all the good shit is already gone.

“It’s got a huge bloody hole in it! That just screams easy target!” Steven argued back. 

Layla turned to look at the car then leaned down to look at the hole where the lock had been. She poked at it for a moment, jiggling the interior mechanisms. “Well, considering I had to crawl in from the passenger’s seat to get in earlier this isn’t exactly the easiest of targets. Plus it also says anything that might be inside isn’t worth taking or has already been taken.” 

“It really worries me how much you and Marc can easily think like criminals…” Steven crossed his arms. 

Layla gave him a look then grinned deviously. “You’re the only honest man in the group, Steven. Sorry to say you’re surrounded by criminals.” 

Steven grumbled about being surrounded by riffraff and let her lead him away from the car with the promise of tea and brunch. 

—

The body shivered. It hated the cold. After so many years out in the hot dry desert or humid tropics, the wet and heavy cold was hard to fight off. 

Marc woke up with a shiver and found himself standing outside in a pair of jeans and an undershirt. 

It was dark out and drizzling rain just enough to be annoying. 

Marc sniffled then sneezed as he looked around. How long had he been out in this? Who had been out in this? 

His eyes adjusted to the dim gray light of pre-dawn and he found himself staring at the car. 

“Fuck.” He groaned and patted his pockets down to find keys. He went to the trunk where he knew Jake kept some supplies. Popping it open, he was disappointed to remember that the thief had taken their emergency bag that contained a change of clothes, some cash, and toiletries. 

He did find an old towel at least. A little dirty, but at least it would do the job. Slamming the trunk, he walked around to the driver’s side then remembered the lack of handle and grumbled as he circled around to the passenger side. Getting in, he toweled off as best he could then reached over and turned on the car, blasting the heater. 

“If we get sick, Steven is going to have a fit. You know that, right? The hell were you doing out there?” 

Nightmare. Jake answered him softly. It surprised him. Jake wasn’t always so open to talking to him.

“Yeah? What about?” Marc asked, then thought better of it. “Don’t tell me. Why didn’t you get in the car? Steven says you used to sleep out here when…” He winced and shook his head as he pushed away the unwanted memory. To his relief, it faded away quickly, leaving a light fog behind. Jake didn’t feel like dealing with a flashback tonight. 

If this is going to stress you out, we don’t have to talk.

Marc held his hands in front of the heaters for a moment. “Is that why we don’t talk? You and I? Too many bad memories?” 

You and I handle things very differently.

“I don’t know about that.” Marc sat back and opened up the glove box. He was surprised to find all their papers still there. The thief really was an idiot after all. “We have similar issues. You were there for the bad shit too. Just cause I punish myself and you pretend you don’t give a shit-” 

Do you really want to do this?

“Yeah. I do.” Marc gruffed and tossed the towel into the back seat. “I used to think you didn’t care. Thought I was the broken one because I’m the one breaking down and having nightmares and you’ve got the worst of the memories and you just wave at them as they pass by! You let me think I was broken! That I was weak!” 

That was never the intent. Jake watched him closely. I just… I process differently. Compartmentalize. It doesn’t mean I don’t have nightmares. Don’t… Break down…

“So is that why you disappear all the time? So you don’t have to deal with all this? The less you’re here the less you feel it?” Marc laughed. “I tried that. It made things way worse.” 

I used to come out here to break down. Jake settled in and Marc could feel how tired they suddenly were. None of them were exactly getting any sleep lately. It was safe and private and had less chance of anyone coming in. I’m supposed to be the strong one. The grounded one. I can’t stand around crying if one of you is having a panic attack.

“I don’t think any of us are that well adjusted.” Marc slowly reclined the chair and looked up at the dark dome light. “Steven breaks down too, you know. None of us are going to hold it against you if you need a time out, Jake. Me least of all. I think I need a time out at least twice a day.” 

I’m supposed to protect you. How can I do that if I’m sitting in here dissociating or feeling sorry for myself?

“Pretty sure you could be dissociated to the void and back and if any of us were in actual danger you’d still manage to pop up and take care of things.” Marc muttered. “I’ve seen what it looks like after you ‘take care of things’.” 

Jake reached out and took their hand, moving to turn down the heat. He didn’t want to push the car too hard before he knew what it needed. 

I was pissed off. You can’t hold that one against me.  

Marc smiled. Jake didn’t like talking about his battle with Harrow. Layla had called it more like an explosion. He knew there were complicated emotions behind it all. A fear of being left behind again. Of being forgotten. Being locked up. Letting them die again. Not being able to protect them… It was what had first endeared Marc to Jake after their initial introduction and problems. 

“I know, buddy. I appreciate it.” 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

“Do you want to head back?” Marc sat up. “If Layla finds us gone she’s going to freak out. She’s had a rough week.” 

Marc could feel the hesitation from Jake. “Do you want to stay here? I can text her. Did we bring the phone?” He started to check his pockets. 

I didn’t intend to even sit in the car. I just…. Just wanted to know it was still here.  

Marc thought back to them standing outside the car in the rain. Jake unwilling to get in but also unwilling to leave it. 

“We need sleep, Jake.” Marc turned off the car and took back the keys. “I’m not one to talk, but if we don’t start sleeping, Steven is going to lock us all out.” 

I know. I just… I can’t. Not right now. The nightmares… 

Marc frowned. He was no good at this part. Where was Steven when he needed him? “Do you want to… To talk about it?” 

Not with you. 

That confirmed what Marc was worried about. “Yeah… I’m uh… I’m having issues too, buddy. You aren’t alone in that. I’m sure you already knew that, though…” He’d felt Jake sweeping away things he wasn’t supposed to have on more than one occasion in the past few days. Part of him wondered if it was his fault that Jake was having issues. “Do you want to talk to Steven?” 

No.

Marc sat still and pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a moment. “We should go back.” 

He felt the reluctance again. It was strong and filled with anxiety. “We can’t stay here forever. We have to get out at some point.” 

I can’t. 

“Are you afraid someone will take the car again?” 

No. Not really. … Maybe a little. 

“Are you mad at Layla?” 

No! Of course not! 

“What are you afraid of then?” Marc sighed. 

Jake was silent. Marc opened the phone and started to text Layla. ‘We are in the car.’ He thought about it for a moment then added ‘Do not come out.’ 

Marc sat back again and crossed his arms. “Next time, you wanna dress up a bit more? A jacket would have been nice.” 

I had a nightmare. Jake snapped. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the weather. You’re lucky we’re in pants.

They both sighed then reclined the seat again. Neither of them was willing to try sleeping and Marc couldn’t make the body move enough to get them out of the car. 

The phone buzzed and Marc glanced down at the text from Layla. ‘What do you need?’ 

Marc chuckled to himself miserably as a long list ran through his head before he typed out ‘Steven’. 

The phone started to ring. He cursed and let it ring a few times before he answered with a huff. “What?” 

That was the wrong thing to say and he winced the second it was out of his mouth. 

“What do you mean ‘What’?” She sounded tired. “I wake up and the bed is empty and the flat is empty and you tell me you’re in the car. You wouldn’t have messaged if it wasn’t a problem. Is it a problem?” 

Marc grit his teeth. “Not really. Just having the best of times out here.” 

Layla made a sound of utter irritation. “Is that code? Are you in danger or just freaking out or did you just decide that being in the car at four in the morning was the best idea in the world?” 

“I could really use Steven right now, okay?” Marc huffed. “I’d love to get back inside where it’s nice and warm and not out here. I just can’t get the stupid body to move!” 

“How am I supposed to get Steven, Marc?” She was beyond irritated now. “What’s the problem? Why can’t you get out of the car yourself?” 

“Jake’s having a time.” Marc glanced at the rearview mirror. “I want to move. I want to go inside but the body… The idea of moving is not exactly appealing to me right now.” 

“Is Jake there?” Layla sighed. “Put him on the phone.” 

“This isn’t like calling up someone’s house, Layla. I can’t just put him on the phone.” Marc snapped. 

“But you want me to get Steven for you.” She snapped back. 

They sat in irritated silence for a solid minute. 

“There’s a new documentary on today.” Layla let out a soft sigh. “About that new set of tombs they found in Saqqara. It’s mostly in Arabic but I can translate it for you if you like.”

“I don’t need you to translate.” He started to protest then felt a pull. “Keep talking.” He felt like he was walking through quicksand as Steven started to rise up in interest. It was like magic as she coaxed him out of the dark. 

“We can make fun of the bad subtitles together. After that we can cuddle a little…Talk about the new scroll they found. Biggest and most intact book of the dead found to date. I know a guy that knows a guy… I bet I could get scans sent to me if I asked.” She yawned a little and Marc felt bad. “Would you like that?” 

“Yeah?” Steven yawned loudly. “I’d love that, Layla! That won’t get anyone in trouble though, right? Getting a hold of the scans? I’d never release them to any media source, mind you. It deserves a proper scholarly review before those vultures can get their nubs on anything. Much less the British Museum. Oh, I hope they get it last. As much as I want to see it, I hope they never even get to display it for a week!” 

Layla laughed. “That’s my boy.” 

“Uh… Layla… Why am I in the car? What time is it? What…” He paused and rubbed his temples for a moment as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. 

Get out of the car.  Marc urged. 

Steven opened the door and got out. He blinked up at the light sky and the rain then locked the door and started slowly walking back towards his home. “Layla? Did we sleep at all last night?” 

“I don’t know, sweetie. Marc texted me and I may have bit his head off a little… I’m sorry, Marc. Can he still hear me?” She sounded very apologetic. 

I’m sorry too. Tell her, Steven. Marc rushed. 

“Yeah. He says he’s sorry too.” Steven reached inside and found Jake lurking just below the surface in the shadows. 

Nightmare. Jake whispered. 

“Jake had a nightmare.” Steven filled in. “I think he went out to the car and things got away from both of them.” 

“Well… It isn’t the closet.” She sighed and he could hear the exhaustion there. “Are you heading home? Do you need help?” 

“I’m okay.” Steven shivered. “Maybe a nice cup of tea when I get there would be nice. It’s chilly out. Gotta love London weather, yeah?” 

“Okay. Be careful and call if something changes.” She hung up and Steven slipped his phone into his pocket. “I don’t mind you guys going out to try to get comfortable.” Steven addressed the room inside. “I really don’t. Closet, living room, car… Do what you need to do. I’d appreciate it if maybe you tried to get hold of me first… But you got me out in the end before things really got out of hand. Good on you.” 

Marc and Jake sank down just a bit but were still listening. 

“Layla’s pretty tired.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “That was kinda rude to call her up just to get me out. You could have done better. We also need to sleep. Like… We really need to sleep. I’m pretty dead on my feet here, guys.” 

Nightmares. Marc shrugged. Not like we aren’t trying to sleep.

“Yeah. I get that. But we gotta figure something out.” He yawned again and turned the corner. “Jake? You wanna talk?” 

No. 

“I’m this close to getting the ankle restraints back out, mate.” Steven warned. 

Try it, Steven. Jake huffed. 

Don’t test him. Marc pushed back. 

“Uh-uh. Nope. None of that.” Steven stopped them. “We aren’t fighting right now. If you don’t want to talk right now I will respect it. We are going home, getting warm, and then I am going to take a nap. If either ONE of you moves the body so much as an inch while I am napping I will freak out.” 

They were silent while Steven walked up to their apartment then opened the door. His tired eyes met Layla’s. “Hey.” He gave a smile and she handed him a hot tea. 

He clutched it tightly, soaking in the heat before taking a cautious sip. “I’m going to to warm up in the shower real quick.” 

The quick shower dragged out a bit. Jake and Marc remained close to the front, both full of apologies but Steven wouldn’t acknowledge any of it. 

He pulled on his favorite pajamas and was about to head to the bed when Layla called to him from in the living room. 

He froze. 

Chairs had been pulled around the couch to help hold up a long sheet in a massive blanket fort. 

Blankets draped across the top and hung down around the couch. A flap was being held open by a clothes pin that was carefully secured. 

Steven slowly walked around and peered into the fort. The couch was covered in pillows, blankets, and a few soft plush items that Steven had been slowly collecting from local gift shops. 

“Oh wow…” He found Layla curled up under a blanket in the corner. “Can I come in?” 

She peeked out from under the blanket at him and laughed. “It’s for you, Steven. Well… Really it’s for Jake. But I thought you might appreciate it too. Marc can come in too if he promises to leave his grumpy judgment out of it.” 

What are we? Four? Marc muttered as Steven looked the fort over. As much as he wanted to sound indignant, Steven could hear the interest hidden there. 

Steven grinned and crawled into the fort and let the flap fall closed, securing them inside. He took a moment to nestle into the blankets then gazed at Layla. “This is amazing.” 

“Obviously we can’t leave all this up all the time… But if this works maybe we can figure something out?” She looked up at the ceiling of the blanket fort. “I bet I could get fairy lights up there easily…” 

While she gazed around, coming up with plans for improvement, she felt Steven shift then a hand reached out and shyly touched hers, asking so softly to be held. 

She looked over and found Jake buried in the blankets and carefully avoiding looking at her. 

Layla softened and gently let her fingers lace around his. She smiled as he squeezed her hand back. 

“Sorry I keep fucking up.” He sighed. “I’m supposed to be better than this.” 

“You’ve had a pretty shitty week.” She stroked her fingers across his gently. “You are more than welcome to be in a bad mood and lose a little sleep.” 

“We lose any more sleep and Steven is going to freak out on us.” Jake muttered. 

“Do you want some space?” She leaned towards the door flaps slightly. “I want all three of you to be comfortable.” 

Jake’s hand tightened around hers slightly. “I’m not used to people acknowledging me. When I was me... As a kid.. It was like she knew. It was like she hated me just a little more. Maybe because I stood up to her once or twice. Or maybe because I tried to run. Or maybe because Marc learned how to take the hits and I still flinched each time.” 

“So you learned to hide?” 

He looked away. “I learned how to avoid the hits. If that meant I spent all night in a cold car or hiding in a closet or hiding on the roof then at least I wasn’t getting hit.” 

“If you need room, just tell me.” She lifted his hand and softly kissed it across the knuckles. “You deserve your own space. I know what Marc needs and I know what Steven needs. You need to tell me what you need. I want you to feel safe here with us.” 

 Jake shifted and lay his head against her shoulder. “I need patience.” 

“I can work with that.” She lightly kissed his forehead. “I need you to get some sleep.” 

“Mnh.” Jake closed his eyes. “Steven says if we move he’ll murder us.” 

“Steven is usually smart about these things.” 

“If I have a nightmare…” 

“Then you will wake up and I will still be right here. If you need space then I will give you the space you need to recover.” 

He squeezed her hand tightly as he drifted off. 

She smiled and pulled him closer. She hoped that for once he would sleep soundly. It was easy for her to be lulled to sleep by his soft snores. At least in here there was no outside world and no troubles, past or present, that could harm them. 

The only problems were the ones that lurked in their head, taking hold like a vice. 

She wrapped her arms around them and held them tightly, hoping that she could somehow protect them from the monsters that lurked unseen and waiting. 

Next Chapter HERE

[marcspectrr]

Layla heard Harrow mention Randall.

Layla saw Jake after Marc blacked out.

And that was the last scene we got of her.

I am not okay.

[jaggedcliffs]

okay so Moon Knight is hands down the best Marvel Disney+ show so far

[lalah-cupcake]

i miss them SO much. anyway happy pride month!

[age-of-moonknight]

“The Final Hours of Moon Knight,” Moon Knight (Vol. 9/2021), #29.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Inker and Penciler: Federico Sabbatini; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[n0heart]

.

[properdxse]

anyways if you’re an internet scalper i hope you lose your house and car and all of your money 🙂

[fatummortem]

Avengers Assemble: Alpha #1

[joyful-soul-collector]

What if I finished Here To Help two years after abandoning it just to get out out of the way and then poured my entire being into Lungs and Gills again

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Nothing and Everything - Part 1

Summary: Certain times of the year are harder than others. This is the first year where they have all been present to face the memories of all the trauma. How can they come together when they each have their own traumas to face?

When do you call it and admit that you need help?

Especially when help is part of the trauma.

Pairings: Gen fic (they love Layla and she loves them)

Warnings: Heavy dissociation, Mentions of child abuse, some mentions of violence, Depression, mentions of self harm, PTSD, lots of flashbacks.

Word Count: 6340

Part one: Marc has a plan. It's not a very good one. The fallout ripples across the other two.

------

Sometimes it was better to be nothing. 

An odd sensation. One he was not supposed to like, if he was to believe the books. Disorientating, sluggish, and leaving one unable to process or do anything. 

Yet he welcomed it at times. He could feel it coming on and he would embrace that nothing. Floating outside of himself. Outside of time. Outside of the world and all it stood for. 

Out here, he didn’t have to be anything. He didn’t have to be Marc Spector. 

He didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to be grounded. He didn’t have to be a husband. A brother. A son. 

He could remember as a child sitting and staring down at his dinner plate. He could remember how the shape of the chicken and rice seemed odd. How the more he stared and tried to make sense of it, the less it became. He stared until the individual rice pieces became lost to him. What was it supposed to be? Where did it exist beyond the plate? It wasn’t real and yet here he was supposed to…do what? 

“Why are you such a pain? Why can’t you be normal? Pay attention when I talk to you!”

Crashing down, his world rang out and he felt what might be pain. He was aware of something hitting him. Splashing cold water on him as the cup crashed to the floor. Pain was not external. Pain was crawling out of that nothing. Pain was drowning in the cave. Pain was returning to his body and existence. Pain was the slow blink he forced on himself as he came crashing back to the diner table. 

“Go clean yourself up. You disgust me.” 

Pain was the man next to him continuing to eat with his eyes down. Pain was struggling to get up and move, wading through a universe that didn’t want him as he made his way to his room. 

Sitting down and holding his knees to his chest, he rocked. It helped. It soothed him. The rocking reminded him that he had a body. That he was supposed to be here. That there was someone else that he had to be there for. 

There were times when it was beautiful. 

Sitting in the temple, listening to the call of the Rabbi, staring at the beautiful art etched across the walls. The Hebrew letters ancient and strange and outside of his time. His father, so proud of how his son would become so moved. How his son would stare upward and rock until tears streamed down his face. It was beautiful out here. Beautiful and free… 

Walking home he would stumble. His feet were not his to move yet they had to move. 

“Did you enjoy it?” 

A voice answered that was not his. If the body was not his, someone had to own it. Someone had to make it move and speak and act. That was well enough for him. He could let Steven have this. Even if it made his father look at him with worry. 

“Son. You don’t have to talk like that. You’ve been watching too many documentaries from the BBC.” 

He would deal with it later. Let Steven have this. He didn’t want it. 

There were times when he would fight it. Times when the call of nothing scared him. When all he wanted to do was exist and he couldn’t. 

“Spector! If we don’t move we’re dead!” 

He stared down at the bullet shells around him. Glimmering in the sun, golden and charred and dented. He rocked back into the broken wall he was seeking shelter behind. Each thump of his back desperately trying to hold him. Lips moving he clung to reality desperately with each stay stay stay stay stay. 

It was what the counselor had told him. Just stay present. Stop drifting. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t day dreaming. Day dreaming was when he pretended he had a loving family at home. When he pretended his mother was at home cooking his favorite meal for him because she loved him. Yet drifting was a word that felt right. 

“SPECTOR! MOVE!”  

He cracked his head back into the wall and forced himself to his feet, running. He didn’t look where. Was it to safety? Was it to oblivion? He was moving. It was move or die. Gunshots. Metal in his hand. Bodies in the dirt. His own voice angry and firm. “Marc. Wake up.” 

No. He didn’t want to. It was fine out here. Why did he need to come out when clearly his body knew what to do. He closed his eyes. He would wake later to find the danger gone. The dirt red and the bullets surrounding him. 

“You’re a freak, Spector. A goddamned lucky freak.”  

Did the others ever drift? Did they find beauty or comfort in not existing? 

Steven hated it. It took away from his time that he could be studying. Or so he said. Honestly, it scared Steven. Steven who had fought so hard for his own sense of self. For his identity. Marc understood why Steven would find the experience disquieting. 

Steven would clench his eyes shut and dig his nails into his palms. He would fight it, exhausting himself and pacing the flat in any effort to stay grounded. He took up reading out loud, focusing on each word and saying it to make it real. He would spend hours reading out books on history until his voice gave out. When it was too much, he would throw Marc to the front and bury himself down and down until he could not drift away anymore. 

“I don’t know how you do it, mate. It’s horrible. Worse than feeling trapped. Worse than anything.” 

And Jake? Jake would not admit to it. There were long stretches at a time when they would not hear a word from Jake. Perhaps that was his strategy. The less he existed the less he could avoid not existing? Marc considered it an interesting problem solve. One he had contemplated in his darkest days as he tried to give his everything to Steven. 

Was Jake avoiding them? Was he avoiding life? Was he avoiding having to face what he was? 

Marc noticed the ticks. The way Jake moved his hands. The way he tapped his fingers one at a time on his thumb over and over. The way he tapped his leg, looking to outsiders to be an impatient man. The way he walked, always taking extra steps anywhere he went. Steps to be sure to place himself in the perfect position. The way he chose his clothes so carefully, feeling them and pulling them to test their sensations. 

No, Jake was not as prone to drifting. Jake was prone to a different problem. Jake felt too much. Too present. Too much sensation. Too much everything. Too much and Jake would leave. His solution to avoid that inner desire to scream and cry until it all stopped. 

A vague memory of a melt down in school. When the bell rang and the lunchroom trays crashed and banged and he could hear the rolling carts and laughter and screaming. Marc had drifted away and Steven was nowhere near the surface. It had been too much of everything and Jake had been forced to take front when he least wanted it. Jake hated school. He hated the over stimulation. He hated the sounds and the way he was forced to interact with so many people. People that did not understand him. 

Escaping into the bathroom he had locked himself in a stall and punched the wall over and over and over again, feeling the force of his hands on the wall. Listening to the thuds and feeling it rattle his skeleton. 

Marc had woken to bloodied and bruised fists. It was a wonder he hadn’t known Jake before. Looking back, he felt bad for all the times he’d force Jake to take a situation that made him want nothing more than to stay down below. He wanted to explain to Jake that it could be different now. That he didn’t need Jake to jump in all the time. That Steven could be there when he wasn’t. 

If only he could stay present. If only he could explain to Jake and Steven why it had to be this way. Why they had to suffer. Why he had failed them by just existing. 

“Marc?” Layla took his hand and squeezed it so gently. “Are you alright?” 

He blinked and gave the smallest of nods. It was the best he could do out here. 

He could feel her watching him. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know what it was like to lose oneself to the nothing. How good it felt to not have to be anything with any expectations. 

“Can you talk?” She wove her fingers in his and held on. 

“Yeah.” Marc pulled himself back down and held on, trying to focus on her. “Just…Having a moment.” 

She nodded and sat beside him, leaning into him gently. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating against his own. “Do you mind company?” 

He used to hide from her. If he felt himself start to drift he would lock himself away. Pretend to sleep. Anything so she wouldn’t know or suspect how broken he was. 

Now there was no use to hiding. She knew. She knew all of it. But she didn’t know the way it could make him feel. 

He could send out Steven. She would certainly welcome the company. Jake might even pop up if he was around. Jake didn’t mind the quiet calm she provided. It was hard to tell who was where in this state. 

“I’m sorry.” He managed to get out. 

“For what?” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he could smell her shampoo. 

“Being a mess.” He was slowly being pulled back in. It hurt to let go but it couldn’t last forever. He could already feel the headache setting in. 

“You aren’t a mess, Marc.” She looked up at him firmly. 

“I cause problems for them. Because of me, Steven has to put up with me... He has a hard enough time feeling recognized and I’m always taking that away from him. And Jake… I put him in these situations. I left him in the crowded underground station during rush hour yesterday. And for you… You having to put up with this.” He pulled away and moved to get up. 

She held his hand tightly, pulling him back down. “Marc. You aren’t the reason for this. It’s not your fault that you disassociate. All three of you do it. It isn’t really something you can control. You aren’t the reason Jake doesn’t like crowds or gets overwhelmed. He puts up with it because he cares, but I’ve seen all three of you melt down over different things.” 

She smiled and Marc frowned. “Jake is the one with the temper. Steven doesn’t melt down.” Even just saying it he knew it was wrong.  

Layla gave him a look. “I moved Steven’s book shelf the other day to get something. I thought Steven was going to have a heart attack. He doesn’t handle change well. Or loss of control. I know now to ask him if I can move things. Ask him to help me if I need to move something. It lets him feel more in control of his situation.” 

“It’s my fault.” Marc leaned back. “I had all this before them. Now that I have them, they have to have these problems too.” 

“That isn’t how it works and you know it.” She scoffed. “As far as I understand it, there is no ‘before them’ when it comes to this stuff. You all have the same problem because that’s just how it works. You all just handle it differently.” 

No before. Marc wasn’t sure about before. Who was he before Steven and Jake? Was he himself or was he all of them? Was he no one? Perhaps they were there first and he came later, crawling out of the desert leaving behind blood soaked sand filled with memories of pain and suffering. 

Thinking about it like that made him dizzy. Was he born in the desert? What if Jake and Steven had always been and he was the one that came out just to cause them pain and suffering? Soaked in sweat and blood and grime to reflect the inside of his very soul. 

He forced a little headshake to be rid of the thought. He knew better. He had been around since the earlier years. He remembered the snap of the belt. If anything, that was his proof of existence. 

Layla squeezed his hand when she noticed him frowning harder than normal. Thinking about his very existence was more than he could handle. He jolted a little and forced himself to squeeze her hand back, though it was weak. 

“Do you think you were happier before you knew all of this?” Marc leaned back and looked up at her. “When you thought I was just some normal man?” 

“You were never normal.” Layla smiled teasingly and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You were a bottled up shell of a person that stared at me way too long and hard every time I looked at you. I fell for you because of the real you I would see now and then. You thought you were so clever and sneaky but I knew there was something.” 

“You probably weren’t expecting this much of a mess though.” Marc smiled back at her and laughed to himself. 

She shrugged. “Worst case I thought you had another wife and kids somewhere. Just turns out you were three people in a trench coat.” 

“Might still have a wife and kids somewhere.” It was Marc’s turn to give her the teasing look. “I mean, no one knows what Jake gets up to all the time.” 

“That is Jake’s business.” Layla shrugged. “And he would tell me if he did. He isn’t trouble like you are.” 

“Jake doesn’t tell you everything.” Marc frowned. 

Layla smiled and sat back. “He doesn’t tell you everything. I’m his gossip buddy.” 

“His what?” Marc sat up. “What does that even mean?” 

She zipped her lips and smiled. “Relax, Marc. You have nothing to worry about. Jake is my sort of gauge on how you’re doing as a whole. I help him relax and he lets me know when there are things to worry about.” 

“Things to worry about.” Marc crossed his arms. “So he’s like a snitch? I would have thought Steven would be the snitch out of all us. What sort of things does he tell you?” 

“He is not a snitch.” She frowned at him. “And I’ll have you know that Steven is the most trustworthy of the three of you to hold a secret.” She relaxed again, though he could tell she was mildly irritated. “Steven tells me if he has concerns. If he thinks there’s trouble or danger. He tells me if he’s having an off day. He thinks it is important to keep me in the loop, but he also doesn’t go into detail if he is fronting because of problems. Jake tells me if he is fronting because of necessity or because he wants to. There is a difference. An important one.” 

Marc looked away. He shared front most often with Steven. Steven was the easiest to switch with and often found it fun to sit with him as co-driver. It was a puzzle that Steven just couldn’t help but hack away at and be the best at. If Steven took over by force it was with good reason, but he knew Steven would never broadcast it. 

Marc had the hardest time switching with Jake. Jake often came to front after Steven. It seemed smoother and less jarring. If he and Jake tried to switch out on purpose there was always a delay. A delay that ran the risk of letting him drift. Not to mention the amnesic barrier that seemed to always sit between him and Jake. If Jake pulled front by force then it was usually a very bad day for a number of potential reasons. 

Reasons Marc didn’t want to think about. Reasons that Jake kept from him at times. Or perhaps reasons that Marc himself refused to see. 

Layla sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Marc stared up at the ceiling, resting his head back against the couch in a position that was sure to strain his neck if he waited too long. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset.” Marc closed his eyes for a moment and felt the world shift. “I just… I wish you’d see…” 

“What do you want me to see Marc?” She sat forward and looked at him fully, the frustration on her face easy to see. “I don’t like it when you are so hard on yourself. You know I can’t agree with you when you talk like this. I love you too much to hear any sort of hateful speech about you, no matter who it is from.”

He couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t want to argue with Layla and he could not explain it to her. How could he? He couldn’t explain it to himself. He didn’t know who was closer to the front, but one of them would step in. He let go and fell to the back. He didn’t even want to be aware of what was going on. Especially since he was certain it was not going to be an easy transition. 

He would apologize later. He was always apologizing later. 

Steven groaned and scrunched up his face as the world swam into focus. “Oh bloody hell.” He took a slow breath and let himself focus in on his surroundings slowly. “M’alright.” 

“Great.” Layla sighed and struggled to reign in her frustration. “Hey, Steven.” 

“Hmm.” He smiled as he focused in on her face. The smile faltered as he noticed her look of utter irritation. “Sorry. What did I miss? Is everything alright?” 

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Marc has been in and out all day. I made the mistake of pushing him. I thought maybe he just needed some company or something to ground him. He pushed back. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Then he just throws you out when I call him on his own B.S.” 

“Oh.” Steven squeezes her hand firmly then frowns. “Are you mad at him?” Steven was the peace keeper. He did his best to keep everyone happy. To make sure no one felt left out. 

He had been the first to bridge the gap between Marc and Jake. The first to open communication between Layla and Jake. He kept everyone in the loop. 

Even now, he was fishing inside for the general sense of wellbeing. Marc snapped back and pulled away, effectively slamming the door on him. 

“No.” Layla crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths. She tried to contain her emotions at times. She hated to think that any arguments or problems would carry over to her feelings on someone else that wasn’t involved. 

Sometimes it was hard. 

Sometimes Marc shut her out and she turned a cold shoulder to Steven because she needed someone to know she was upset. She knew she had snapped at Jake more than once when the realities of the situation became too heavy for her to hold up. 

“Yes.” She sighed and forced herself to take his hand. The same fingers, the same warmth, yet a lighter and more delicate hold. “He’s been a mess all day and I don’t know how to help him. He won’t let me help him.” 

Steven nodded. “I think we’re just having a day.” 

“What does that mean?” She looked at him, desperate to know. “A day? A day of what? Is he depressed? Is he upset? Does he need space? Should I trust him with space?” 

Steven scrunched up his face and rubbed his temple. The headache was starting to pound. It was hard for him to know if this was what had set off Marc or if the headache was a result of Marc being set off. 

“No. Nothing like that. He’s… He’ll be fine.” Steven did not have a poker face. When his world spun, he reached inside again. “I’m sorry, Love. I feel terrible. I’d like to go lay down for a bit, if that’s alright?” 

Layla looked at him with concern then nodded. “Of course.” 

She watched him get up and wander to the bed, flopping back as he pulled the blankets around himself like a cocoon. 

“Do you want anything? Some aspirin? Water?” She tried to help. Wanted to help. Needed to help. 

Steven made a sound and curled up tighter, rolling up in the blanket till all she could see was a few stray curls poking out of the top. 

“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything.” She moved to fill a glass of water and set it on the bedside table. 

He would be in bed for the next several hours. Marc had pushed too hard and now it was like he had dug his finger into the brain and clawed at it like an animal trying to escape. All that was left was for Steven to cling to it like a tether. 

Sometimes things spilled over. More than headaches and spinning into the nothing. 

Sometimes emotions carried through them. Sudden bouts of anxiety could pierce them, making the heart pound as adrenalin shot through them like a live wire. 

Steven was prone to the anxiety attacks. Worry about life. About the body. About his headmates. About Layla. About the relationship. About his job. About existing. 

Marc coasted over the anxiety like nothing. He was used to adrenalin. His face neutral, he would take a breath and focus like only Marc Spector could, holding down the fort like a man that had never known how to relax a day in his life. 

Anger was an emotion that sometimes scared Steven. He hadn’t realized he had the capacity until he learned about his headmates. Marc was filled with anger. He held it all back until he blew up. Steven would often blow up right along with him, unable to hold on. 

Jake knew anger. Jake had known rage and learned how to harness it. When the anger became destructive, Jake could pull it in and use the fuel to get things done. Jake was never more productive than when the anger simmered over into a boil. 

Steven wondered what emotion Jake brought to the table. Then again, Steven also often found himself crying for no reason. There were times when the tears would flow down his face without any reason. 

Marc was not connected to this overflow. When the sadness was too much inside, Marc disconnected. It made Steven wonder who of them was really feeling it. His own connection with Jake left him with suspicions but he was too afraid to ask. 

Steven had asked Jake once if it had always just been the three of them. He wondered about time spans in their life that neither he or Marc seemed to have. Had Jake been that active once? 

The one with those memories isn’t around anymore.

It scared him. To know that someone had once been there and was simply not anything anymore. Not death and not sleeping. Just… Not. Not aware? Lost in the void? Sitting quietly alone somewhere and feeling free from the mess that existed around them? 

Then again, he himself had such large gaps in his memory that perhaps he had simply not been anything for a while too. 

Steven curled up tighter and pulled the blanket down until it was stuffy and hot. 

How many had come and gone? How many were simply lurking and staying quiet? How many knew things that were forbidden? 

Marc was prone to flashbacks. They usually came at night. Sometimes set off by sounds and sometimes by weather. Rain often clenched at his heart till Steven slipped in. 

Yet one of them had started waking the body up late at night screaming. Emotions so overblown and painful that Steven would blindly step in and catch the tail end of pure terror. Flashes of something he couldn’t see. Sounds from the past that deafened them until the world was a buzz. 

Marc denied these attacks. He had no recollection of them. Jake seemed tight lipped and frustrated by these break through attacks, but he assured Steven it wasn’t from him. 

Someone in the system was distressed. 

I don’t know who you are, and it’s okay if you want to stay hidden…. But you need to know that you aren’t alone. You are safe here. We’re here for you. 

He called out. Into the dark. Into the void. Into the inner space. 

You are safe. 

“Steven?” 

He jumped and sat up. How long had he been in bed? Was it still day? What day was it? 

A fear often struck him that one day he might close his eyes and open them years later to find everything different yet to him no time at all. 

He looked around, trying to find context clues till his eyes settled on Layla. 

“Are you feeling any better?” She sat on the edge of the bed, a soft and hopeful smile hiding her worry. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Just a couple of hours.” She glanced to the side where she had set a fresh cup of tea. 

Steven smiled and adjusted himself till he was comfortable then took the cup of tea carefully. It was still hot and smelled wonderful and strong. 

Layla always made a strong cup of anything she brewed. Marc swore that Layla could raise the dead with her coffee. Jake had gotten a taste for it and they now had rules in place on when and how much he could drink. 

Steven stared down into the dark water, hands clutching the cup as he let the heat radiate outwards to warm him. He could pretend that it reached into his very soul and set fire to his hearth, then perhaps Marc and Jake could feel it too and they could gather around the glow. 

“Are you alright?” Layla leaned down so she could peer at his face under the mess of curls. 

It was then that Steven felt the tears drip off his chin to splash down into the tea. 

He managed a nod and wiped a cheek on his sleeve. He sipped the tea, now laced in sadness. It was bitter, but not unpleasantly so. 

“We’re a mess today, huh?” He mumbled. 

“Everyone has bad days.” She smiled softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” Steven didn’t like talking about things that were not his own. If Marc needed space, he would give it. If things got out of hand, he would intervene. It was his place to trust Marc. To trust the others. 

Let me talk to her.

Steven frowned. Jake did not give space. Jake was often blunt and always analyzing a situation. 

“Let me finish my tea.” Steven suddenly felt stubborn and sour. Jake didn’t like tea and had let Steven take the brunt of the headache earlier when he had been just as close to the front when Marc bailed. 

The look in Layla’s eyes meant she knew Jake was trying to front. Like watching someone waiting for a friend at the airport. He would come with news and a smile.

Steven was just in the way now. A stand in between her and the functionings of something she wanted to know… But did she need to know? 

He sipped the tea again, less careful this time as he burned his lips a little. 

Steven.

It was a warning. Jake knew that Steven hated being spoken down to. Hated being looked at as incapable. He wanted to handle it. He could handle it. He always handled it. 

“Not now.” Steven snapped and moved to get out of the bed as if he could possibly put distance between him and the thing in his head that was annoying him. 

Steven. Let go.

Jake could pull him. He could pull Marc easily in the worst of times. Yet they all knew that Steven could put up a fight. If Steven didn’t want to go, he would fight and no one would come out of it unscathed. 

It was only kindness to them all that Jake asked. Normally Steven obliged. Jake didn’t ask for front a lot. Sometimes he was thrust into it, sometimes he took it by force, and sometimes he just slipped in. Usually when Jake asked, Steven was more than happy to step aside. He knew what it was to be pushed back when scared and alone… Begging to have control of his life… 

He burned his mouth on the tea and winced as he felt the scald run down his throat to sit in his stomach like a hot coal. The cup of tea sloshed over his hand before he set it down on the side table. 

“Fuck!” Jake moved to the bathroom and quickly cupped his hand under the cold water then moved to guzzle it, putting out the fire inside. 

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Oh god! Are we okay? 

Jake sighed as he felt the damage, his tongue raw and the roof of his mouth nicely seared. That would be a lovely annoyance for the next week. His hand was only mildly burned and at least would be fine by tomorrow. 

He looked up to find Layla behind him in the mirror, her eyes full of concern. 

“We’re okay.” An answer to her and Steven. 

He let out a heavy sigh, feeling himself settle in as the air left him. Almost like he was forcing out the remnants of the other two. Inhaling slowly, he filled with his own troubles. 

“We aren’t okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face before turning back to face Layla fully. 

“It’s the change of the season. The end of summer as the rains start to hit.” Jake glanced at the window, watching the sun casting lingering shadows at low angles. “A bad time of year for us… A lot of bad memories… A lot of regrets. Loss…” 

The sun was no longer golden and warm. It was hot and unloving. The night would stretch on and the pounding on the door would get louder. Tears at night soaked through pillows and night terrors left dark circles under eyes. 

The first rain would flash flood, unable to soak into the too dry ground fast enough. Dark grays like her sweater, coarse and painful in a hug full of lies and promises. 

He would see his father’s sad face in the windows he passed. Unknown to him in his age, no longer the strong and happy man he had known. He would hear him begging to stay as he walked away. 

And the screams… 

Jake clenched his eyes shut for a moment, willing the memories away before they overwhelmed him and flooded through. Steven was already too close and getting emotional carry over. He didn’t need the nightmares too. One of them needed to be able to sleep at night. 

Marc knew the nightmares were coming. Like clockwork he knew the depression would slide in to poison his mind and drag him down. 

But this was the first year that they were all aware of one another. 

This was the first time that Marc knew he didn’t have to be present. That perhaps…

“Fucking bastard is trying to dissociate his way through it.” Jake groaned and moved to slump back on the couch. 

“What’s that?” Layla settled in next to him. 

“This is our first year being… We.” He struggled to explain. “Aware. The first time we’ve known about each other. In the past, Marc fought through it. Held his ground and got depressed and… You know. You were there for a lot of it.” 

Layla looked thoughtful for a moment. “I used to think it was seasonal affective disorder.” She tilted her head as she chased a memory. 

“I bought him one of those sun lamps that are supposed to improve your mood.” She sighed. “I don’t think it helped at all. I thought it was weird that his depression started in so much earlier than most people.” 

Jake gave her a small smile, trying to imagine Marc sitting in front of the lamp dutifully every day while Layla watched, knowing that it wasn’t going to help. 

“He doesn’t have to hold his ground anymore. He doesn’t want to be present for it.” Jake shook his head at the cleverness that was both impressive and also so utterly infuriating. 

“You mean like hibernation?” Layla looked startled. “He’s just going to… What? Sleep all season? I’ll see him in the spring?”

He would try to be a grumpy bear, wouldn’t he? Steven grumbled from the back. He was still keeping his distance, feeling ashamed for burning them. 

Jake leaned on his hand, covering up a smile at that. “Marc wishes he could go into hibernation. It doesn’t work that way. He might try to front less… But he is still going to be affected. He’s trying to detach himself from the moment. If he’s stuck in the moment, he might even try to force us to switch. Give us reason to pull him.” 

Leave it to Marc to come up with a way to use his D.I.D to try to get out of his feelings instead of trying to face them. 

Layla was quiet for a moment then looked down. “It’s not a bad idea… Maybe we should let him. Is it so wrong to help him not suffer?” 

Jake sank further back into the couch till even Steven was complaining about the posture. 

Jake please, our back!

He remembered the feeling of helplessness. The feeling of sitting in a chair as the sedation washed over them. The feel of the body being numb and heavy. The struggle to even look up and see who was talking. 

Jake had hated every moment of it. Every moment of helplessness. The sensation of nothing. Of being locked out. 

But not Marc… Marc had loved it. The feeling of not having to do anything. He loved the way he didn’t have to think. 

It was any wonder that Marc developed a drinking problem after that. Desperately trying to recreate the numbness. 

It was only out of pure will that they had managed to avoid diving into deeper and more damaging things. 

“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t control things like that. Our system is actually pretty delicate. All three of us…” He paused here, not used to including himself in these admissions. “We’re all in a pretty delicate balance. He can’t just pretend he isn’t here for half the year.” 

“What one does, the others have to deal with too.” Layla frowned then looked down at Jake. She reached out and gently gripped his arm, pulling him back up into a better posture to spare their back. “Marc might be fine, but the other two would suffer…” 

Steven perked up at that. The nightmares… Are they yours?  

Jake leaned into Layla lightly, laying a hand over hers to keep her touch there a moment longer. “Steven would be happy to run the show, I’m sure. Pretending that we didn’t exist. Living like he did before he knew…” 

Steven protested, but half heartedly. He knew the truth and couldn’t hide it. How easy it would be to pretend he was normal. He would be sad at first, missing the company. But how many times did he wake up in the morning and call out, wondering if it was all just a dream? Would it be possible for denial to kick in and make him forget? Would it be hard to give up control again in the spring? 

Even without the denial, the loneliness felt like a pit deep inside and it terrified him. 

“I don’t think Steven would be very happy alone.” Layla looked down at Jake’s trembling hand that clung to hers. He hadn’t even realized how tightly he had been clinging. “I don’t think any of you want to or should be alone.” 

She lay her head against his shoulder and gently wrapped her free arm around his waist. 

“I’m sorry.” Jake or Steven mumbled. They didn’t know who was in front. Steven had always blended easily with the others. Even before he knew about the others. It was easy for Marc of Jake to mesh with Steven. His strength had always been to hold them up and together. 

“It’s okay…” She whispered as she squeezed his hand. Steven loved to be held. Jake loved to be leaned into. Marc loved to do the holding. “I’ll be here for you.” 

Tears ran down their cheeks again, flowing into streams like a flash flood. Steven felt his heart clench in anxiety and Jake pushed back a memory. 

Someone inside was so sad that it threatened to drown them all. 

You’re okay. You’re safe now.  

He cried out into the emptiness. 

Jake’s hand squeezed Layla’s till he slipped back and let Steven have the front again. 

At what point would it not be enough to be reassured? At what point would it be too much to exist? Sometimes it was so nice to not be. 

Jake wished he could feel it too. The way Marc did… The free float of nothing. Instead, he was trapped here in the sarcophagus pounding his fists against the solid wood, feeling everything. 

---

Part Two HERE