Work Text:
“Just you?”
It is said that there are five stages of grief that a person can go through. The names of each stage are as follows…
Marc gripped the axe as he watched Harrow enter the tomb, surrounded by his followers. He quickly glanced to the right to see if Layla was there. He couldn’t see her. Whether that made him feel better or worse, he couldn’t quite work out. He looked around to assess the situation.
They have guns.
Marc reminded himself to call Steven ‘Captain Obvious’ next time he could - in the small chance they made it out of the tomb alive. Since Steven became aware of Marc and Khonshu, it was as if the two of them were more unified than ever. Steven was seeing the same scene as Marc.
Marc continued to stretch his attention across all of Harrow’s followers. Steven was right, guns. Harrow continued to move closer.
“You’re a free man.”
He sure didn’t feel like it. He glanced down slightly as he thought about Layla, and their argument. She was right to be mad. He should’ve been honest, he just couldn’t bring himself to it.
Harrow was close to Marc now. Marc barely took in anything Harrow said. He just stood there, almost disconnecting from the situation entirely.
… denial …
Marc knew he no longer had the protection of Khonshu and his suit. Hell, he reminded Steven of it earlier that very same day before they even made it into the tomb. Despite that, he couldn’t die. He was Khonshu’s avatar. He was his fist of vengeance. He can’t die. He hadn’t enough time to explain to Layla what really happened that night. He hadn’t explained how he lay at the feet of a statue in a pile of his own blood, shivering as he felt every bit of him die.
He wasn’t going to die. He was Moon Knight. He had dealt with worse. He needed Layla.
… anger …
Layla.
She had left him there. Marc had told her to find an exit, but she must have known that he would be severely outnumbered. Surely she couldn’t just leave him there? If not him, then Steven? Steven, who was innocent in all of this. Steven, who was so scared when Layla entered the tomb demanding answers and immediately let Marc in.
Marc felt his jaw tighten slightly. He thought about the other gods, who were just letting this happen. He and Khonshu tried to warn them about Harrow, but to no avail. They would not listen to Khonshu. They would not listen to Marc, who instead had to listen to Harrow belittle him in front of the other gods.
Arthur Harrow. Marc looked at the man standing in front of him, his mouth moving. He should’ve been killed before he even made it to the tomb. Before he had the scarab.
Steven. He should’ve let Marc in when he said. They would have gotten in and out sooner than they did. He should’ve let him in even sooner than that. He could’ve killed Harrow with his own bare hands.
Khonshu. That damn god. If he hadn’t messed with the sky again he would have the suit, he would be out of here by now. It would be over.
Marc then thought about the one central figure in all of this. Him. He shouldn’t have taken Khonshu’s deal to begin with. He wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t have even met Layla. He wouldn’t have caused her all this hurt.
… bargaining …
Control. Marc needed to be in control of the situation. He was too outnumbered right now. The first thing he could think of was giving Harrow the ushabti. He should then be free to leave, and he could get to freeing Khonshu and then go back and kick some Harrow ass.
He knew Steven had stashed it in his pockets. All he had to do was pass it over, and walk out of there. He could then find Layla and explain everything. She deserved to know. He would be back in control, and they could create a ‘Free Khonshu’ plan. All he had to do was reach into his pockets and -
… depression …
- he couldn’t do that. With the amount of guns in that tomb, it was almost guaranteed he would be leaving with at least one gunshot, if he left at all. He thought back to his and Layla’s wedding.
He remembered the smell of her perfume that day. He took comfort in remembering it. He wanted to close his eyes and go back to that day. Layla deserved better. She deserved a caring, kind person. Marc would not describe himself as any of the words like that. He saw Layla’s face when it was her and Steven. She deserved somebody like Steven. He knew he was not good enough for her.
He was meant to die before he even met her.
Marc took a breath, and zoned back into the scenario.
… and acceptance.
“And right now, you have a very important decision to make.”
Marc took a final look around the room. He knew this was it. He knew this was the day that Marc Spector, the avatar of Khonshu, would die. This was the day that would be murdered. Again.
“Okay.”
He knew this was it. But he may as well buy Layla some time to continue escaping. He swung the axe toward one of Harrow’s followers, fighting as best as he could. He knocked down three of Harrow’s men. It sped up from there.
Marc felt the hole ripping through his chest before he could process it. He stumbled back, trying to maintain eye contact with Harrow for as long as he was upright. As he watched Harrow raise the gun again toward him, a defeated Marc Spector accepted his fate.
He fell back, landing in the puddle of water surrounding the tomb. Marc felt Steven stir too in the anxieties of their final moments. Although there was acceptance, there was still fear. Khonshu would not come to save them again this time. This was it.
“I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves.”
Marc felt his body get lighter as he closed his eyes. The water was cold. It was almost welcoming.
This was it.