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It had taken some time and some tough conversations, but Layla and Marc had worked out a living situation between themselves. The flat that Marc had bought for Steven, who was under the guise that the apartment had been a gift from his mother (they still haven’t really talked about that whole situation) was large enough to fit the both of them, and without any current missions from their resident Egyptian deities, the two decided to stay in London for the time being.
While still the ( temporary! ) avatar of the goddess Taweret, Layla has discovered that the Goddess was much less needy than Khonshu. And so, while her husband was out ‘protecting the travelers of the night’, Layla sat curled up in the soft armchair in their shared flat, a blanket thrown across her lap and book in her hands. It had become like clockwork, her sitting up on the nights where her husband stalks the streets at night under the glow of the moon, waiting until he came home to fall into bed beside her.
Layla looked up as she heard the jingle of keys being inserted to the lock of the front door. She carefully marked her page in her book- a recommendation from Steven. She gave Marc a grin as he opened the door and entered the flat.
“Hi, honey,” She greeted warmly. “How was it? Nothing too bad I hope.”
The man in turn gave her a blank look, returning her greeting with confused blinking. The smile on Layla’s face slowly fell as she took in the appearance of the man in front of her. Wild hair and disheveled clothes with the sleeves of his jacket pushed up on his forearms revealed bloodied and bruised knuckles. A dried trail of blood from his nose and a split across the bridge of it alluding to a broken nose, or at least a freshly reset one. A sad looking flat cap sat crookedly perched on top of his head.
She slowly stood as Marc remained unspeaking, tense as a wire and looking ready to flee at a moment's notice with pupils blown bigger than she had ever seen on Marc or Steven before.
“You’re not Marc, are you?” She questioned softly. It reminded her of a feral cat she tried to befriend when she was younger, gaining its trust through slow movements and gentle words. She had to restrain herself to give a slow blink to the figure in front of her.
After a moment's hesitation, the man in front of her broke the silence. “No,” he answered roughly, not looking her in the eye, “I’m Jake.”
Layla was aware that Jake existed, stories of him being told to her from Marc and Steven alike, but she herself had never met him. She eyed him up and down, taking in the minute differences between him and her husband’s other personalities. Jake stood like he was ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, eyes carefully fluttering around the room, cataloging everything around him, analyzing it for threats. Her eyes lingered on the previously noticed injuries marring his body before spurring into action.
She stood from her seat and made her way into the kitchen, pulling down the first aid kit the couple made sure to always have stocked from one of the cabinets. As she brought out the kit and placed it at the kitchen table, she looked back at Jake who hadn’t moved except to close the door behind him.
“You coming or what?” That seemed to startle him out of his hesitance. He stiffly made his way over to the table, sitting across from Layla. He muttered something under his breath as he sat.
“What was that?”
“... I said I can do it myself,” he huffed darkly, still avoiding eye contact.
“I know,” she responded, “I want to.”
This got a reaction out of the man. Dark eyes met her own with a flash of fury in them.
“Maybe I don’t want you to” He growled.
Layla had been told previously that Jake was a bit of an asshole, but it was surprising just how aggressive the man was compared to the sweetness of Steven and the level-headedness from Marc.
Determined to not let the man get under her skin, she rolled her eyes at his anger. “Suit yourself then, but I do want to talk to you while we’re both here.”
Jake grumbled noncommittally and began sorting through the first aid kit, pulling out bandages and disinfectant. Layla sat with her arms folded on the table across from her. She watched as he roughly scrubbed at the blood on his knuckles, either not caring about the pain or not noticing it.
An uneasy quiet settled over the two of them, only interrupted by the soft buzz of electricity from the dim overhead lights. Surprisingly, it was Jake who broke the hush overtaking the kitchen.
“So, what now? You just gonna stare at me?”
“Well, you are the one who just came into the apartment in the middle of the night, covered in blood, might I add, but yeah, let’s continue that this is a normal experience,” Layla said with a sniff, confused at the lack of presence from Steven and Marc. From what she heard, Jake doesn’t like fronting for very long.
She had never met Jake and Jake had never seemed to show interest in meeting her. She tried not to let it bother her, but Steven and Marc seemed to have a shared sixth sense in telling when something was upsetting her. They did their best to console her about it, but there was always a lingering sadness inside of her.
An irritated sigh left Jake’s lips.
“Ok, obviously you’ve got questions, and I don’t blame you, but can we just like, keep it to a minimum tonight? I’m tired.”
“Right, and you’re obviously going to answer them all,” Layla said with a quirk of her brow.
“I’ll answer five questions with complete honesty, no lying or anything. But,” Jake replied with a raised finger, “I get to ask you five questions in return and you have to be honest when answering them.”
“Are you seriously asking to play twenty questions with me, in the middle of the night after you come home after getting the shit beat out of you?” Layla deadpanned.
“Hey, you shoulda seen the other guys!” Jake threw back defensively, “And we obviously aren’t going to get anywhere with you staring at me like I just murdered your dog or something, so twenty questions it is unless you have a better idea.”
She really didn’t have a better idea. She also didn’t want to spook Jake and have him pull the disappearing act on her that Marc is so fond of.
Layla looked at him intently. Jake sat across from her with his arms crossed, tension held tight in his body and looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice despite his offering to answer her questions. She’d have to be smart about this if she wanted him to trust her.
“What’s your favorite color?”
He blinked at her dumbly. “ What?”
“You said we each got five questions, so here’s number one,” she explained with a shrug. “What’s your favorite color?”
While he didn’t immediately leave the flat like she feared, he still didn’t look happy.
“I give you five free chances to ask me anything you want, no strings attached, and you waste one on asking me my favorite color? Christ, this was a stupid idea.” Jake put his head in his hands, taking off his cap to run his fingers through his hair before replacing it. Layla was beginning to run out of patience.
“Well, if you can’t answer it just say so,” she challenged. That got his attention.
“What? No, hold on- fuck you, what?” He stumbled, “Of course I’ve got a favorite color, what kind of psychopath doesn’t? I’m just sayin’ it’s a stupid question.
She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. Jake looked at her intently for a moment before his gaze darted away.
“Red. My favorite color is red” he finally ground out. Layla shot him a sly grin.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She hid a bout of laughter as an adorably dark glare was thrown at her from the man. “Now it’s your turn.”
Jake sat quietly for a moment, pondering his next move.
“Do you think I’m in love with you?” He questioned out of nowhere, taking Layla by surprise.
She furrowed her brows in response, “is that seriously what you’re going to ask?”
“Hey, if you can ask me what my favorite color is, the least I can do is figure out if it was some weird pick up line or something” He responded while holding up his hands.
Part of Layla bristled at the accusation. It’s not that she assumed that all of Marc’s alters would have… affections for her, it was just that she had gotten used to interacting with Steven and Marc alike at this point and it had just become routine for her to have two partners that just so happen to share the same body.
“No.” She finally settled with. “I don’t expect you to think of me the same way as Marc and Steven do.”
At this, Jake let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh thank God, I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful and everything,” Layla tried desperately to stop the blush she felt from visibly heating her cheeks at his casual claim, “but I don’t do all…. That.” He ended with a vague wave of his hands, bandaids still half stuck on to his split knuckles.
Layla quirked a brow at his confession. “All that?” she prodded.
Jake looked almost a little embarrassed at this.
“Yeah you know… the sex thing. Like, sure I guess it’s alright, but just not for me.” He answered with a shrug, suddenly finding the bandaid wrapper extremely interesting.
The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Layla took in the new information she just learned.
“Ok.”
“Ok? That’s it? Geez you’re weird, usually people just get super offended when I say things like that.”
Layla shook her head in response, “no, it’s however you feel, I’m not going to try and change that or anything.”
After a moment, she could have sworn she heard a breathless “thank you”.
“What was that?” She needled with a shit eating grin.
“I said ‘Fuck you’” Jake snapped. She just smiled back in response, rolling her eyes good naturedly.
“Yeah, whatever, just get on with the rest of your questions, girlie.” He said with a pointed glare as he began to wipe off the dried blood from his nose and failing miserably, leaving dried red flakes smeared across the top of his lip.
“Oh, give it here,” she said exasperatedly, rising to her feet, “quit trying to act all like a one man army and at least let me do your nose.”
For a split instant, it looked like Jake was going to refuse, but he haltingly offered her the wet towel he had been using to scrub the blood away with. Layla carefully took it and tilted his head up so that she could wipe away the hardened blood. Once his face was clean and being the bearer of more than a few winces and glares, she took one of the white bandages from the kit on the table and placed it carefully across the split over his nose after disinfecting it. Pleased with her work, she retreated back to her seat at the table.
Jake lifted a hand and carefully prodded at the bandaid, shooting her a glace with his dark eyes that she couldn’t decipher.
“This doesn’t mean I’m like, suddenly in love with you or anything.”
Layla just scoffed and shook her head. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to. It’s your turn now.”
Jake looked at her long and hard, intense eyes that seemed to pierce her entire soul analyzed her every detail. She refused to let this intimidate her and set her jaw, meeting his gaze.
“why are you doing all of," he gestured his hands vaguely, "this?"
Layla gave him a flat expression.
"You know, you're going to have to be more specific than that."
Jake grumbled for a moment before replying.
"You know, this! The whole caring thing. Why are ypu being nice to me? You dont even know me."
For only being the first time she's met him, Layla can see a remarkable connection between Jake and Marc. Layla can remember, when she was first detting to know Marc,, the confusion she was met with when she offered him kindness and compassion. She chalked it up to him just being shy at first, but as more time passed, that confusion was indicative to Marc's rough past.
Layla knew that Jake was a different person than her husband, and therefore shouldn't treat him as such, but Layla couldn't help the expression that came across her face as she regarded the other man.
"I don't want your fucking pity," he snapped, "just an answer. I'm not trying to have a chick flick moment or anything, I just want to know why."
That irritated Layla. Her and Marc had made up from Marc's constant pushing her away along with whispered promises that he will never leave her like that again, but Jake still continued to keep the wall between them up.
"I'm not trying to pity you," Layla responded hotly, "I just thought you would have heard it from Marc already. I'll say it again so you can get it through that thick head of yours, alright? I like you. All of you. I like Marc and Steven, and I've never met you personally before, but I like you too Jake. So whether you like it or not, I'm going to care about you, you idiot."
This seemed to send Jake into a moment of contemplation. She was worried for a moment that he was about to spit something back at her, but he just shook his head and waved a hand at her.
"Your turn." he said simply, not bothering to dignify her heartfelt response with a reply of his own.
Layla decided to let him off the hook for that.
“Why did you stay with Khonshu?” Layla begins slowly instead, beginning her descent into some of the more sensitive questions she had for Jake. He already seemed agitated from her last response and she wanted to finish asking her questions.
“Why do you stay with Taweret?” Jake shoots back without hesitation.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “are you seriously going to answer a question with a question? This totally counts as one of your five by the way.”
Jake waved her response off, “I’ll answer yours if you answer mine.”
Layla hesitated for a second. Her situation with Taweret was certainly… unique. How many people could say that they became the avatar of the egyptian goddess of fertility and childbirth first out of necessity, but had found themselves enjoying their newfound avatar-hood more than they had expected.
“I want to help people,” she began, “I feel like I can finally do something to protect people, to keep the people I love safe. But it’s not like Taweret is threatening and terrorizing me like Khonshu does to you guys, so I don’t see how that matters,” She tacks on at the end.
“Same reason as you. I’m here to protect people. I was made to protect Marc and Steven from the stuff that they couldn’t handle, and I sure as shit ain’t gonna stop doing that now. Khonshu, as much as a bastard that featherbrained idiot is, he’s the best way to keep them safe.” Jake explains, fidgeting with his hands and averting eye contact.
“How long have you been around?” Layla hedged, “If you’re alright answering that, you said that you were, er, made, to protect Marc AND Steven.”
It’s not that Layla wanted to dredge up Jake’s, and subsequently Marc and Steven’s tragic childhood that she’s only heard bits and pieces about, but she was curious as to why Jake hadn’t been as present as the other two.
It took Jake a moment to answer.
“I’m not too sure. I didn’t have a name for a while, but I was still there. I know it was… It was after Steven,” He had a thoughtful look on his face, “
Layla pursed her lips at his answer.
“Does that mean,” she choked up, unable to contain her emotions.
“Does that mean you’re the youngest child?” She finally gasped out, unable to hide the giggle that had been bubbling in her chest.
His eyes widened in shock.
“What? No- I’m not- Hey! Fuck you, stop laughing, I’m not the youngest!”
The laugh that she tried so valiantly to keep contained finally poured out of her at the other man’s spluttering.
“Stop! I swear to God I’m gonna- It’s not that funny!” He cried.
“No no, you’re right it’s not funny,” she snorted, “but it does explain a few things.”
Jake pouted and crossed his arms across from her. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like that,” she said with a snicker, “you’re whole tough guy attitude, the trying to be all secretive and cool, it’s all just classic youngest child things.”
“Yeah, right, just laugh it up girlie, hardy-har, ole’ Jakey is the youngest around here,” He drawled, voice laced with sarcasm. “I’m counting that as two questions by the way, your welcome.”
“What!” Layla squawked, “That is so unfair!” She made a big show of it as she huffed and crossed her arms, feigning irritation.
“First you asked how long I’ve been around, then you asked if I was the youngest, sounds like two different questions to me!”
“...That is such youngest child behavior…” She muttered loud enough for Jake to hear.
“I’M NOT-” He started to snap back before letting out a groan. “Whatever, I’m not even going to bother with this. You only have one question left, girlie.”
Man, he was really going to count her two questions for that one, she must have hit a nerve with teasing him. She needed to make this last question count, she had no idea when Jake was going to be back, but she had already proved to them both that she had no qualms with his existence.
“Will you be back?” She voiced her thoughts out loud.
“I sure hope so,” he answered with a chuckle, “If Marc tried to run away again Steven will have his head.”
“No, sorry,” She clarified, “I just mean… I know that we haven’t talked before this and… Will I get to see you again? I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”
“First of all, I wasn’t hiding,” he huffed, “and second of all, why do you even care?”
He was starting to become defensive again. She had done a good job of loosening him up with silly questions at first, but he was beginning to clam up quickly when having to talk about himself.
“Jake, you said you were made to protect Marc and Steven, but what if they don’t need that kind of protection anymore? You’re a part of the system just as much as they are, you deserve to have your own life too.”
Jake’s expression closed off, eyes darkening.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re talkin about, girlie,” his accent was becoming thicker as he struggled to hold himself together, Layla noted. It wasn’t the same classic American accent as Marc, holding a twang to it that she couldn’t quite place.
“Jake,” she asserted, “You deserve to live your own life. You don’t have to keep hiding yourself away.”
“Fuck you,” the man snarled suddenly, flinching away and standing up in a flurry of motion. He whirled around and paced a few angry steps across the small kitchen before turning back to the table just as fast. His body practically vibrated with restless energy as he forced himself to sit still in front of her. Layla waited, unspeaking.
Jake continued to fidget, fingers digging into his hair and leg bouncing quickly under the table.
“I don’t… I’m not meant for this.” He finally ground out behind clenched teeth.
“Meant for what?” she prodded gently, not wanting to startle him any more than she already has.
He lifted his gaze, wild eyes meeting her own.
“I thought I said you were out of questions,” he growled, shifting his gaze from her to the grain of the wooden tabletop, suddenly interested in its pattern. She waited patiently, not saying anything but not being oppressive in her silence either. Either he would talk or he wouldn’t, and Layla would leave that choice up to him. If he really didn’t want to talk, he would have to use his words and express that clearly to her.
Minutes ticked by, the softly glowing numbers on the stovetop counting at a steady pace.
“I wasn’t made for nice things,” he began so quietly and suddenly that she almost jumped, “I was made for the bad stuff, the worst stuff. The stuff Marc couldn’t handle.”
He refused to make eye contact, instead picking at the fresh bandages across his knuckles. Layla continued to wait quietly, letting him continue at his own pace.
“...I’m not evil.” He whispered in such a heartbroken voice that almost sent her into tears right then and there.
“I’m… I’m not…” His breath hitched, all the previous fight that had filled his body draining from it, leaving him slumped in his seat at the table.
Layla carefully reached her hand across the table to take hold of Jake’s.
“Hey,” she began, watching as his shining eyes lifted to meet hers, “I know. You’ve done a good job Jake, keeping them safe.”
Her second hand joined her first, tangling into his fingers as the previous shininess devolved into tears dripping down his cheeks.
“You’ve done good, I’m sure Marc and Steven think that too. You’re not a bad person.” She affirmed quietly.
Here, sitting together within the dimness of their apartment during the middle of the night, Layla held onto the hands of one recently introduced Jake Lockley. He held onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, noiseless sobs shuddering across his shoulders periodically. Layla sat with him without speaking, offering her voiceless support.
Slowly, his breath evened out more, his gasps between tears becoming less and less. As he took his hand back to wipe the tears from his face carefully, hissing when he prods too hard at the bandage across his nose, Layla stands.
“You take the bed tonight,” She said with a hushed voice, afraid to break the curtain of silence that had fallen over the apartment.
As Jake opened his mouth to deny her offer, she hardened her stance on the matter, “I’m not the one who came home beaten and bloody tonight, Jake. You take the bed tonight and I’ll just sleep on the couch, it’ll be fine.”
It called attention to Jake’s exhaustion as he just nodded along, too tired to argue with her. He stiffly got up from his seat at the kitchen table, moving towards the bathroom to change out of his dirty street clothes.
Layla pulled down some extra blankets and pillows to sleep with on the couch before getting ready for bed herself. Jake was already curled up in bed, not facing her as she made her way around the apartment to turn off the lights and tidy up for the morning.
“Layla?”
A hesitant voice whispered through the darkness. Layla turned and looked to where Jake was looking at her with tired eyes under a mound of blankets. He didn’t look nearly as dangerous as he thought like this, making him seem years younger.
“...Goodnight.”
A smile crept its way onto Layla’s face as she settled onto the couch, wrapping the blanket around herself.
“Goodnight, Jake,” she whispered back, listening to the mattress squeak as he rolled back over into the clutches of sleep.
The smile remained on her face as she closed her own eyes. She had a feeling that Jake would come see her more often after this.