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Marc didn’t realize he had powers until after, as he sat and watched the bruises form, then fade away. It was certainly convenient. He wouldn’t have to wear pants and long sleeves in the summer, and he didn’t have to worry about her killing him. (Although sometimes he wished she would.) But his first thought was to wonder what it meant that he’d gotten his power without meeting anyone. As he watched the last bruise fade from purple to yellow-brown back to tan skin he decided it meant he was supposed to be alone. So he never told anyone, too afraid of how they’d look at him, what they’d think.
……
He grew up knowing he could take a hit and be fine afterwards. He had no idea if he could die, but after he ran, leading Bushman away from the hostages and only getting a bullet in his gut for his troubles, he wanted to. He saw Bushman going back for the people he had tried to save and he wanted to die. No one knew he could heal, so they thought they were leaving him for dead on those temple steps. He wished that he healed faster, that he could get up and run, that he could stop Bushman somehow before he killed those innocent people. But he couldn’t even move because the pain was so bad. Because his muscles were still torn, his stomach acid was still spilling into his blood. So he lifted up his gun. He had shot at Bushman while he left but he’d missed because the pain was so bad he couldn’t see straight. He had a bullet left though. And one is enough to at least try to end it all. He points the gun at his head.
“What a waste.”
“Huh?”
Khonshu promised him power, strength, that he could save the hostages, all he had to do was say yes.
But by the time he got back to the others, Bushman had already finished them off and left.
“You told me I could save them!” he screamed at the god.
“You hesitated too long, Marc Spector.”
“The deal is off!”
“It doesn’t work like that. You swore. You have a debt to repay. It is not my fault you failed, I gave you the power you needed, just as I said I would.”
Marc screamed wordlessly into the sand.
……
In between missions he tracked down El-Faouly’s daughter. To apologize, to explain, to hopefully give her closure. And he tried, he tried to work up the nerve, but before he could he saw a face he recognized in the crowd. It could be a coincidence that someone else that had worked with Bushman in the marines was in London. But Marc didn’t want to take that chance. He grabbed Layla’s hand and ran, but got cornered in an alleyway. He didn’t want to summon the suit so publicly. He’d wait and see if they just left after thinking he was dead. He put himself in front of Layla to shield her from the bullets and closed his eyes. But instead of feeling pain, after the gunshots he heard metallic clanging and running footsteps. When he opened his eyes he saw bright metal wings surrounding him, sprouting from Layla’s back.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” he said.
“I can’t, I mean I couldn’t . Not until now,” she replied.
Fuck.
“What about you, can you–Oh my god you’re hurt!”
Marc looked down at his leg, where there had been a slight sting of pain as a bullet grazed him, and saw blood on his pant leg. “It’s fine,” he said.
“It’s not! It’s a bullet wound, it could get infected, you probably need to stay off that leg until it heals–”
“Layla! It’s fine.” He moved aside the fabric of his pant leg to show her the unblemished skin. “It’s healed.”
She looked at him with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yeah,” he replied. And that was the moment he started lying to her.
He stayed with her for so long. He told her about Khonshu and the suit and the mission. But he didn’t tell her about anything important. Not about her father, not that he’d had healing powers since he was a child, and not about Steven.
Because Marc had been slowly realizing Steven’s existence for years now, but he kept that wall up. He protected Steven from him. From every aspect of his life. He gave Steven his own life. His own flat, his own time. And it got so easy to just give Steven more and more time, to escape this life he never wanted. The wife whose smile filled him with guilt, the servitude which left him covered in blood. Eventually he made a deal with Khonshu, one more mission and then he was free. Free to disappear and give all of his time to Steven.
Then everything went to hell.
Marc thought explaining to Layla how her father died was the worst situation he could be in. Then she asked a question that made it all even worse.
“Why didn’t you die that day? How did you survive getting shot?”
“Layla…”
“Oh my god.”
“Layla, listen, there’s no one else, I’ve been able to heal ever since I was a kid, I was alone when it happened.”
“Then you should have stayed alone.”
……
When Harrow shot Marc, he got two bullets right through his head. Marc’s last living thought was: “It’s not healing, I guess I can die.” Then he hit the water.
……
Marc realized as he watched the memory. He remembered that day so clearly, it was his birthday. It was the day he had gotten his healing powers. Steven was his soulmate.
He had no idea if Steven realized. And all too soon it was too late because Steven had fallen into the sands and Marc was in the field of reeds.
No.
No.
He had to find Steven, had to tell him, to make him understand. He had kept so much secret from him, from everyone, and now that he realized he was going to tell Steven the truth, even if it was his last act.
“You are the only real superpower I ever had.”
And the gates of Osiris open.
……
After everything, Marc and Steven were sitting on a hotel bed while Layla went to get some much needed food.
“So,” Steven said. “You’re Layla’s soulmate, and I’m your soulmate?”
“I think we’re both her soulmates, and each other’s,” Marc answered.
“I wonder how she feels about that…” Steven worried.
“It’ll probably take a hell of a lot of talking to work things out.”
“And how do… How do you feel about this, Marc?”
Marc thought for a moment. “Confused, mostly. But I know two things for certain. First, I don’t want to keep you in the dark anymore. It wasn’t fair to you and I can’t go back to not having you here, not talking to you, just watching. I need to be more open. With you, with Layla… with myself.”
“And the second thing?” Steven asked, pulling their lips into a smile.
“I know that I love you.”
“Oh…” Steven seemed a little caught off guard by this. “I love you too,” he said.
There was a long pause.
“I wish I could hold you again,” Marc said.
“Me too,” Steven whispered.
They settled for wrapping their arms around their body, and when Layla came back with the food she found them asleep like that.