Chapter Text
Steven is born out of fear. Ironically, that means he gets to live without it. He grows up the perfect son of a perfect mother, in their lovely, perfect life. Steven deals with their fear by not feeling it, and he’s the best of them all, so they give him their innocence because someone should get to keep it.
Marc is born out of love. Way before, when there’s Roro and birthdays and mom still knows how to smile so dad doesn’t have to do it for the both of them. Those memories belong to Marc alone. He deals by running away from it, and he keeps running and running so that no one can ever truly reach him. They leave Marc the love, maybe because he’s the one strong enough to bear it.
The first thing Jake ever knows is pain. He deals by taking it. Someone has to be the one to take it. And they give Jake their suffering so that they can live without it. And then they go and build their lives, Steven’s lovely perfect world and Marc’s search for something more, like he could convince himself he’s running towards something instead of just away.
Marc thinks they’re insane, but Marc can’t see the whole picture – they each have a role to play, Steven gets to live a regular life while Marc gets his adventure and Jake, well he’s the one who makes sure no one takes that away from them again, like their mother almost succeeded or the military tried to.
Jake never really thinks about what that makes him until he sees Marc and Steven coming together.
A loser.
Jake is a loser because that’s what you are when you’re not a winner, and the winners are the ones who don’t get left behind in a sarcophagus, he’s pretty sure.
He never really wonders if the world could be something better than the darkness until Khonshu tells Steven and Marc they’re free and sends them into a deep sleep, leaving Jake blinking at the beaten Harrow and confused Layla, thrown because there’s no danger or pain for him to deal with, so why would he be there?
“This world still needs my fist of vengeance.” Khonshu says without missing a beat and Jake instinctively knows he’s hearing the voice inside his head. “I can feel your pain, your thirst for life outside of shadows. I can give you that life. You are worth protecting, Jake Lockley.”
Jake can’t hide his flinch of surprise. He’s never told anyone his name, the few times he ended up fronting without immediate threat, he acted like the alter whose life he’d stepped into. But Khonshu knows his name.
“Marc, you okay?” Layla asks while the God chuckles, the sound resonating in his head.
“You better answer her, we wouldn’t want her getting the wrong impression now.”
Jake frowns. ‘Marc and Steven don’t trust you.’ He thinks at the bird, hoping the telepathy can work both ways.
“Marc is too weak to do what must be done, and we both know the worm cannot handle the truth. But the few glimpses I’ve had of you were enough to show me you are strong. You understand that hard choices must be made to protect the innocents.” Khonshu drawls, moving just close enough to not set off Jake’s alarm bells, his staff at the side, unthreatening. The God turns his creepy bird skull head (Jake makes sure to direct that particular thought towards Khonshu) and hums as if seeing something. “You and I understand each other. Perhaps, I could be a friend?”
Jake freezes, and now his alarm bells are going off but they’re at war with something else he can’t name.
“Marc? Talk to me, what’s wrong?” Layla is saying.
Jake gives Khonshu his best glare. ‘What are we doing here, exactly? You look around my head and decide I’m an idiot or something?’
“Interesting. You believe someone would only offer you kindness if it was a trick. Nonetheless, I can easily bring the others back if that’s what you wish. In fact, why don’t you tell Layla here about our little talk?”
“Did Konshu do something, Marc? Should I summon Taweret?” Layla presses when Jake’s eyes flick to hers briefly. “Damn it, talk to me!”
Jake doesn’t open his mouth, because he’s a fucking idiot.
“Wouldn’t it be nice, to be the one in charge for a while?” Khonshu adds. “To… win?”
Jake closes his eyes. Fucking idiot.
“So, do you want death, Jake Lockley, or do you choose… life?”
“Damn it, Marc. That’s it, I’m getting Tawer-”
“Sí.” Jake breathes, the first word he’s said for himself, as himself. He’s never really thought about freedom either, until this moment right here. It’s exhilarating.
“What?” Layla stares.
“I’m fine. Sorry, I zoned out.” He speaks in Marc’s accent.
“Then rise, my Moon Knight, and play the part one more time. Taweret’s avatar must remain unaware for the time being.” Khonshu backs away. “I will meet you back in London, let her think she can handle Harrow.” With that the God is gone.
“Did you have another blackout?” Layla asks but her eyes are drawn, assessing and skeptical. Jake could almost see why the others are so infatuated with her, if he was interested in that sort of thing.
Whatever ailment is leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, Jake swallows it and puts on his best Marc face, even rubbing her arm the way he’s seen his alter do. “I was talking to Steven, you know he’s still easily excitable by all this.” He smiles before pulling his face into a wince. “Sorry if it was weird, I’m still figuring this out I guess.”
“You’re both still figuring it out.” Layla corrects, softening. Jake takes the opportunity to pull his hand away.
“Yeah… we are.” This time the uncertainty in his voice is genuine, and that’s probably what finally dissipates Layla’s suspicion.
“You’ll get there.” She promises before turning to face the half-conscious Harrow. “Now what the hell do we do with him?”
---
Jake hasn’t spent this long in control of the body since… ever. He’s never done it. He slips into the role of Marc easily enough, but he can’t quite hide his own wonder when he gets to try a coffee at the airport (he might be addicted already) or the anxious excitement when the plane takes off into the sky (interesting but no hurry to try that again). He plays it off as Steven shining through, since Steven gets excited by everything. Layla offers ‘Steven’ to solve crossword puzzles to pass the time of the flight and they turn it into a game, seeing who can solve theirs first (Jake finds he doesn’t mind being a loser this once when he surprises himself by how much he actually knows). And then they’re in London, and Jake makes up an excuse to go home alone once they drop Harrow off at the asylum.
The first thing Jake does once Layla is gone is tell Khonshu to fuck off, the second is find a Starbucks.
“Una café con leche.” He tells the barista. (One coffee with milk)
The woman blinks at his Spanish and replies slowly. “Your, uhm, nombre?” (Name?)
Jake smiles. “Me llamo Jake.” (My name is Jake)
Khonshu is waiting for him when Jake steps outside with his coffee. “If you’re done exploring your identity yet, we have work to do.”
“No.” Jake says taking a long sip.
Khonshu growls. “Evil is out there while you waste time on a beverage. I thought you were the one with focus?”
“Todavía no.” Jake replies with his own growl. (Not yet)
Jake goes back to Steven’s apartment. He’s not sure why he does it, maybe he’s curious. What does the place the body’s been living in look like through his own eyes?
It looks… lonely. That’s the answer. Not that Jake didn’t know Steven was lonely, he even tried setting him up on that date when he woke up at the museum.
Jake shakes the thought off, he doesn’t want to think about Steven now. Instead, he investigates the place, pausing at a pile of fake postcards from ‘mum’ and finally the fish tank, where Gus 2.0 has met a sad fate. Damn it, Steven loved that fish, and now Jake’s thinking about Steven again and he wants to break the damn tank except Steven cares about that too, so Jake breaks the chair instead before cursing himself and Khonshu, and then the two idiots inside his head.
Khonshu appears behind him. “I’ve been lenient, but now-”
“Por que?” Jake cuts him off. (Why?)
The bird God pauses (yes, I’m talking about you, Khonshu), the empty eyes seemingly staring right through. Jake holds his ground.
“You are worth protecting-”
“Bullshit.” Jake falls back into English, finding that his voice naturally falls into an accent different from Marc’s. New York, the knowledge slips into place like it had always been there. “What are you really after?”
“You are a suspicious one, Jake Lockley. But you do not have to fear me.”
Jake bristles at that. “I’m not afraid.”
“You can trust me, Jake. You and I want the same things, to eradicate those who would prey on the innocent.”
‘You don’t know me.’ Jake thinks half to himself and half to the bird.
“We are in this together now. Let’s go defeat Harrow, together.”
Together. Jake swallows, nods. “Ahora. Estoy listo para irme.” (Now. I’m ready to go.)
He pointedly doesn’t glance at the tank as he follows Khonshu outside.
“Meet my friend, Jake Lockley.” Khonshu tells Harrow, drawing out the word friend like the weapon Jake knows it to be.
Jake has made a deal with the devil. But for now, he gets to know what it’s like to win.
“Hoy te toca a perder.” (Today is your turn to lose)
He shoots. The man who wrecked Steven’s and Marc’s lives before murdering them on Jake’s watch. Jake could never stand up to their mother, and fleeing the military had left Marc worse off than before, but now he watches Harrow die and for a moment it feels like enough. Like maybe he made the right choice.
Later, once Jake’s done burying Harrow’s body in an unmarked grave (he thinks, no one will remember his name), he throws the shovel away, not for the first time curses himself silently and finally turns to the fucking bird God. “What did you do to Steven and Marc?” He asks the question he hasn’t been willing to admit to Khonshu or to himself.
If Khonshu is surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. “They’re in a deep slumber inside your mind. Don’t worry, there won’t be a repeat of the scarab hunt, you will stay in full control without either of the worms interfering.”
And just like that, the anger is gone. “We wouldn’t want that.” Jake echoes numbly, he thinks it might say something not too good about him if he wishes the anger, or even the damned pain, would come back. But somehow this numbness is worse so here they are.
He’s lucky Khonshu doesn’t go digging through his head, just takes Jake’s statement at face value. “Now, go home and get some sleep. We still have a lot of work to do.”
Jake nods to the empty field. Khonshu is gone. He pulls out a small mirror he’d slipped into his pocket and stares at his reflection with something that looks too close to regret.
“Marc? Steven?” He tries but it won’t work, even if it could work, the mirrors were never Jake’s thing. Jake wasn’t like them.
And surprise, surprise, it doesn’t work. Jake curses and shoves the mirror back into his pocket, unwilling to let himself break it despite the urge to do just that.
In a twist not at all uncommon in his life, Jake has made a deal with the devil, and he’s still a loser in the end.