shards and splinters
parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader
desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.
warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx
a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x
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the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.
he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.
there was nothing you could have done, marc.
“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”
steven sighed, and went quiet.
“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”
marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.
he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.
steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.
are you going to wallow here forever?
marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.
“fuck off.”
khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.
“fuck off.” he repeated.
and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?
“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”
khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?
“no.”
perhaps you should.
marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.
“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”
if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.
and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.
she’s alive?
“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”
his eyes slipped into the back of his head.
steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.
-
“this feels so fucking weird.”
you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.
i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.
you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.
you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.
“where is he?”
it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.
humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.
what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.
harrow was less than two feet away from you.
swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.
but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.
the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.
it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?
apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.
this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.
his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.
you could slither away too, though.
still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.
as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.
we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.
nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.
this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.
perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.
your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.
“what is harrow’s plan?”
he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.
“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.
he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.
you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”
hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.
for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.
why did you marry him?
it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.
“what?”
marc. why did you marry him?
you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.
i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.
“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”
and?
“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”
the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.
“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”
he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?
“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.
he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.
i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”
you regret it?
“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.
oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.
it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”
didn’t it take a while to get used to?
the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.
“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.
he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”
hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.
“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.
i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.
“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.
take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.
you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”
you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?
“no.”
then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.
you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.
“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”
a beat. hathor didn’t reply.
“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”
you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.
“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.
he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”
tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.
“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.
and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”
why did you hate him?
you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.
and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.
he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.
but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.
and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”
hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.
you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.
her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”
hathor shook her head. you are a human being.
there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.
is now a bad time, human?
you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”
what do i want? there’s a long list.
even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”
hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.
the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.
i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.
just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.
your heart stopped.
marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…
“y/n!”
just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.
“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.
you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.
he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.
marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.
“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”
“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”
he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.
“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”
barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.
it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.
but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.
if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.
“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.
“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”
he blinked. a beat.
“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”
“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”
steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”
he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.
“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”
-
you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.
but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.
you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.
but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.
it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.
the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.
he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.
‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.
it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;
it wasn’t you.
well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.
you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.
trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.
and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.
so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.
what a lovely shopping list, you thought.
-
it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.
with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.
the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.
of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.
no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.
a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.
the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.
“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”
beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.
oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?
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