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“Okay.” Ganke said. “This is weird.”
Gwen scoffed. “That’s one way to put it.”
Miles held onto Miguel’s arm, bracing himself against it as he hoisted himself up—he had been holding onto it from the moment they fell through the goddamn portal that opened up in the middle of the lab floor —offering a hand to Ganke once he was firmly stuck to the floor. Miles’ eyes flicked to his boyfriend’s wrist, making sure his wristband was still in place. The last thing he wanted was for Ganke to start glitching.
“We are moving right?” Ganke wrapped his arms around Miles’ neck to keep steady. “I’m not imagining that?”
Miguel glanced up at the ceiling. Miles followed, blinking slowly as he watched the chandelier sway back and forth.
It was incredibly disorienting, to see things rocking and swaying in a room that, otherwise, looked to be perfectly still and stationary. And yet Miles could feel them moving, almost as if they were on a boat in the middle of an ocean on the cusp of a storm.
“We’re moving.” Miguel confirmed.
“Cool! Hate that!” Gwen shot off a web, sticking it to the ceiling and using it to haul herself up with a considerable amount of effort.
For as much as she and Miles flipped and swung around, you would think they would be able to better keep their balance. But there was something so…wrong with this, for everything to be so perfectly still even though they were so obviously moving. The whiplash of it was god awful, especially when they had gone from sitting on the floor of Miguel’s lab, having a nice calm conversation about why Miguel had been so cagy and irritable lately, to this .
Was this what people felt like when they were seasick?
“Are you good, babe?” Ganke placed a warm hand on Miles’ cheek, gently tilting his head so they were looking at each other. Somewhere in the past few moments it had turned into Miles holding onto Ganke for balance. “You’re looking kinda pale.”
“I’m great .” Miles said.
Ganke frowned, but before he could say anything the room they were in rocked violently, pitching Ganke, Miles, and Gwen off to the side. Miguel was the only one who kept his balance.
He was quick to reach out for all three of them, hooking his fingers in the collar of Ganke’s shirt, hauling him and Miles back while he fired off a web–an organic one, Miles duly noted, and not his fancy red ones–to grab Gwen and keep her from crashing into the wall.
“I hate this place!” Gwen said.
Miles didn’t even know what this place was .
He didn’t recognize it, but with the way Miguel was looking around, jaw clenched and posture as stiff as a brick, Miles would swear that Miguel did know where they were. And maybe he did–they were in a quaint looking living room, warm and cozy and softly lit and, outside of the wild rocking and swaying, looking perfectly normal. But there was still something so unsettling about it, with the chill that lingered in the air, with the way all the photos on the walls were blurred over, the people in them entirely unrecognizable.
“Where even are we?” Ganke asked.
Miguel didn’t answer.
He didn’t get a chance to.
A door that Miles hadn’t noticed before flung open, cracking against the wall hard enough that he was surprised it didn’t put a dent in the wall.
–
“Layla!” they were on a boat, what the fuck . “--thank goodness you found them–”
The sky above them was a watercolor canvas of purple and pink and yellow, a perpetual sunset completely devoid of the moon and his first evening stars. The sky was the glass still sea while the sand below them was a sky full of stars, shining and glittering as the boat moved through the dunes and parted the fine sifted grains like sea waves. Miles was fascinated by it, so enraptured by the sight of it all that he almost didn’t notice the giant hippo woman hurrying towards them.
“Oh,” she pressed a hand to her cheek, ears twitching nervously. She was incredibly tall. Like. Miguel tall. Miles spared a glance back at the older spider, oddly delighted to see that Miguel and the hippo woman were just about the same height, Miguel only being a tad shorter. “This is becoming quite the mess, isn’t it?”
“It’s Khonshu,” The woman who had found them–Layla–said. The name sounded familiar, but Miles couldn’t place where he would have heard it. “I’m not sure what you were expecting.”
She lifted her arms, reaching back to pull her curly hair into a messy bun and…she was really pretty holy fuck .
There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, a dusty champagne on her cheeks, and now that her hair was out of her face and Miles wasn’t freaking out about this strange woman pulling him from a strange room, he could see all the shades of brown and maroon in her eyes that the light from the boat lanterns brought out.
Miles reached over to smack Gwen, but Gwen was already reaching over to smack him.
“What are you two doing?” Ganke whispered.
“Being bisexual,” Gwen whispered back, slapping a hand against Miles’ chest.
Miles huffed out a breath, then pressed a kiss to the corner of Ganke’s lips. “Love you.”
“Yeah, you better.”
“It’s not just Khonshu, dear,” the hippo said, following after Layla as she moved towards the center of the boat. Even as the floor beneath them rocked and trembled, Layla walked across it with the same sure footed grace Miles and Gwen had when they walked across walls. “Neith is involved as well–you know how the triplets get about these things.”
Miguel sucked in a sharp breath.
“That doesn’t mean they should just throw caution to the wind,” Layla countered. The gold of her armor glittered like sunshine underneath the warm lanterns of the boat, the crimson and snow colored silks she wore following her movements like the gentle rise and fall of the tide. “They know better than anyone how dangerous it is playing with the Web of Creation like this–Neith especially.”
“Oh, I know, but Neith always gets so worked up about her–” the hippo blinked, then let out a soft gasp and turned back towards Miles and his little group. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–are you four alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” She hurried over to them, placing her hands on Miguel’s shoulders first as she looked him over for injury before fussing over the rest of them. “It’s always a rough trip down, especially when it’s unscheduled–”
“Um.” Gwen cut in once the hippo got to her. “Not to be rude, but who are you?”
“Oh, goodness me, where are my manners–” she cleared her throat, taking a step back. “I am the goddess Taweret, the helmswoman of Osiris' boat–” she gestured to Layla. “--and this is my lovely Avatar, Layla.”
That name sounded familiar too.
Taweret.
“Is that what we’re on?” Gwen asked. “Osiris’ boat?”
“Correct.” Taweret said cheerfully.
“He's the Egyptian god of the dead, isn’t he?” Ganke asked. He had his warm wrapped tightly around Miles’ waist, holding him still and steady because there was something about this boat that just threw Miles off kilter.
Or maybe he just got seasickness and never knew until now.
“He’s the Lord of the Underworld.” Taweret gently corrected. “But yes, I suppose he is the god of the dead, technically speaking.”
Ganke’s grip on Miles tightened. “Fuck–are we dead?”
“Oh, no! No, not at all dear–” Taweret was quick to say. She moved away from Gwen to stand in front of Ganke, clapping her hands together and giving him a sweet reassuring smile, which seemed incredibly difficult to do since she was, well. A hippo. “You're just visiting!” She laughed then, a little nervously. “I’m not sure how, but I promise it’s just a day visit–you four are all very much alive.”
“That’s reassuring,” Gwen said dryly.
Miles suddenly remembered why their names sounded so familiar.
“You’re Marc and Steven’s wife!” He pointed at Layla–she was still standing in the center of the boat, arms crossed and watching the four of them with an unreadable expression–leaning heavily against Ganke as he did so.
There was a painfully awkward moment of silence, broken by Miguel letting out a loud sigh and muttering something in Spanish that sounded an awful lot like why are you like this and thank fuck I’ve only had daughters.
Then Gwen gasped.
“No–” she looked at Layla, then at Miles, then back at Layla. “ No,” she repeated. “You’re that Layla?”
Miguel grumbled in Spanish again, and this time it sounded like I take it back.
“I should hope so,” a smile crept across Layla’s lips as she spoke, soft and sweet and fond. “Gwen and Miles, I assume?”
“Does Steven talk about us?” Miles asked, ignoring Ganke’s eye roll and an even deeper sigh from Miguel.
“He’s mentioned you a few times,” Layla answered.
Gwen slapped Miles’ arm. “ Steven talks about us–”
“Okay. Ya basta.” Miguel cut them off sharply, but not unkindly. “We’re leaving. Vamos–”
“You can’t.” Taweret said suddenly.
Miguel snapped his head around to look at Taweret so quickly that Miles was surprised he hadn’t heard bones crack and pop. “ What ?”
“Technology doesn’t work here–your portals won’t open.” Taweret tugged on one of her braids, then started fiddling with the bracelets around her wrists. “Even if they did, we’re in the Duat–” she started pacing, ears twitching. “--this is the place between the strands of the Weaver’s web. It’s everywhere and nowhere all at once.” She paused, looking out at the vast expanse of the sandy sea before turning back to them. She seemed, for a moment, to be somewhere far away, lost in a time that had long since passed. “There are many ways in, but I’m afraid that for you there’s only one way out.”
–
“Okay–” Gwen dropped her head into her hands, rubbing circles into her temple. “--so you’re telling me the only way out of here is through some dumb gate?”
“The Gates of Osiris, yes,” Taweret said. “The Duat is the land of the dead–it’s not designed for people to be able to leave. When Ammit was here we used to be a little more loosey-goosey with the rules, but since the Devourer isn’t here anymore to…well, devour , we have to keep a tighter ship.”
They had all, save for Miguel, sat down in the middle of the boat deck in a loose circle.
Miguel was pacing up and down the length of the boat. Agitation was rolling off him in waves, his anger just palpital enough that it was making Miles’ spider-sense buzz only just. He still had no idea what it was that had caused Miguel to hole up in his lab for a week, but with the way he looked ready to snap at the first person who got within five feet of him, Miles assumed that their current predicament was part of it.
“Layla is able to come and go because she’s my Avatar, ” Taweret continued. “She’s tied to the Duat itself, but besides–”
Taweret cut herself off sharply, sparing a nervous glance at Miguel.
If he noticed, he didn’t react.
“Without the aid of either the Weaver or the Pathfinder, it’s very difficult to leave.” Taweret finished. She blinked then, a smile spreading across her face as she clapped her hands together. “Khonshu, of course! If we time it right we should be able to–oh, Layla dear, he’d need the help of your boys, wouldn’t he?”
“Help for what?” Miles asked.
“To rip a hole in the Duat big enough for four people to get through?” Layla hummed. “Probably.”
“Let me just–I’ll be right back–” Taweret sprung back to her feet with surprising agility, rushing off so quickly that Miles didn’t even see where she had gone.
Gwen peered around Miles and Ganke, trying to see where she had gone. “What is she–?”
The only warning Miles got that anything had even happened was an explosion of his spider-sense that was so sudden it hurt .
Judging by Gwen’s sharp intake of breath, Miles was not alone.
“ You .” Khonshu was suddenly looming over him, agitation and annoyance oozing from his voice. He stood before the three of them, his grip on his staff tight and steady as he leaned down and down until his razor sharpened beak was a few inches from Miles’ temple. Miles could see Miguel hurrying back towards them with a clear look of panic just as Layla stood, taking a few steps back to meet Miguel halfway. “Miles Morales, you are becoming nearly as irritating of a presence in my life as the worm.”
Miles frowned. “Excuse you, I am a delight.”
“The only delight I will find from you, little Spider, is when I feast upon your heart when you come face to face with the Unraveler—“
“Khonshu, be nice.” Taweret appeared in front of them just as suddenly as Khonshu had, smacking him upside the head.
Miles snorted, managing to swallow the rest of his laugh before it could spill out.
Gwen didn’t try at all.
She had to hold onto Miles’ shoulder she was laughing so hard.
“What do you want , you wretched woman?” Khonshu hissed, ducking and swatting Taweret away before gesturing wildly to Miguel with his staff. Layla had a hand on Miguel’s shoulder, keeping him still, but not completely holding him back. “And why are the Harbinger and his Spiders here? They are not dead.” Khonshu then looked down at Ganke, swinging his staff around to point it at him. “ And what about this one? Is he dead?”
Khonshu stared at Ganke, scrutinizing him like an oddity at a museum.
He looked, despite his lack of facial muscles, completely baffled.
“No he is not.” Taweret didn’t seem at all phased. “And I don’t know what they’re doing down here. I was hoping you might let Steven and the boys pop on down so you can get them back to where they’re supposed to be.”
“Do you think I have any control over what Steven Grant does?”
“Oh, I know you don’t,” Taweret said cheerfully. “But it’s still polite to ask.”
Khonshu growled, and then he was gone.
“My, he is grumpy, isn’t he?” Taweret sighed, pressing a palm to her cheek. “I promise he’s not usually like this–he’s actually quite sweet.”
Layla rolled her eyes, letting go of Miguel.
He rushed over to them, kneeling in front of them to check them over for injury. Khonshu, Miles had learned, was far more bark than he was bite even when Steven wasn’t around, but Miles didn’t say anything and let Miguel fuss.
“Save your fretting for someone else, Harbinger.” Miles absolutely did not scream as Khonshu appeared back in front of them. And if Ganke reached out to grab Miles’ hand because that’s what he did when Miles got jumpscared when they watched horror movies, then that was just a coincidence. “I didn’t harm your Spiders.” Khonshu turned back to Ganke, leaning over Miguel’s shoulder to get a closer look. “But you ...your heart beats, but you reek of the sacred oils of the dead.”
“Thanks.” Ganke said dryly.
Gwen leaned forward, peering around Miguel to look at Ganke as she pointed at Khonshu. “You can see him?”
“Of course he can see me–we are in the Duat before Anubis’ scales. Everything is laid bare before him. Flesh, bone, dreams, wants, desires–” Khonshu circled them like a vulture, the occasional flash of the purple sky filling the empty void of his eyes. “Why do you think Osiris’ boat placed you in Peter Parker’s living room?”
Miguel stiffened.
“Khonshu, if you’re going to be a bully you can leave.” Taweret crossed her arms and fixed Khonshu with a hard stare. “You may be one of the Duat’s gatekeepers, but this is still my boat.”
“I’m not being a bully . I’m stating facts .” Khonshu hissed.
“Well you’re being rude about it,” Taweret said. Then she smiled after spotting something over Khonshu’s shoulder. “Hello, boys!”
Miles and Gwen whipped around in a near perfect synchronization.
There Steven was…and Marc…and Jake.
All three of them.
That was…jaring.
Marc made a beeline towards Layla, a smile as warm and sweet as firelight tugging at his lips. He held his hands out expectantly when he reached her. Layla easily took them in her own, pressing a kiss to Marc’s palm before tangling their fingers together. They ducked their heads, murmuring quiet words that Miles couldn’t hear while Steven headed towards Khonshu and the rest of them, all business.
Jake lingered behind with his arms crossed high over his chest, looking at Marc and Layla with a pinched expression.
“Hi Steven!” Miles and Gwen said at the same time, waving at the older man.
Steven smiled and waved back. The bright white of his suit soaked up the lilac shades of the sky, giving him a soft blacklight glow. “Hullo Gwen! Hullo Miles! And…” Steven trailed off. “...Miguel? Is that right?”
Jake choked on his next breath, drawing him out of whatever melancholic compilation he was in as he snapped his head around to look at their little group. “ That’s Miguel?”
Like this, with all three of the boys separated, it was uncanny how similar the two looked.
Jake almost looked more like Miguel than he did Marc and Steven.
While he wasn’t anywhere near Miguel’s height, Jake was the tallest of the three of them. His hair wasn’t unsimilar to Miguel’s, tugged out of his face and with that same curl at his neck and around his ears. Jake’s face was a little softer than Miguel’s, more round curves than sharp lines, but he had that same weary look, a strong facade that was so very close to breaking. Jake Lockley was haunted by something, and you didn’t have to know him very well to see just how close it was to winning.
There was also, of course, the glaringly obvious fact that both Miguel and Jake spoke Spanish.
“Jesus fuck ,” Jake blinked, shook his head, then, “No me extraña que Peter me llamara por tu nombre cuando—“
Miguel’s eyes widened.
“Oh my god please do not finish that sentence–” the words spilled out of Miles’ mouth in a jumble, cutting Jake off so sharply that you could almost hear the snipping of words. “--I don’t wanna hear that crap, man!”
“What did he say?” Ganke asked.
“Miles Morales don’t you dare .” Miguel threatened.
Miles held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “I wasn’t gonna!”
Steven frowned, planted his hands on his hip, then spun on his heel to look at Jake. “I don’t know what you said, but that was rude.”
Jake looked baffled. “How do you not—you can speak four languages and read in five, how have you not learned Spanish yet?”
Steven huffed, crossing his arms almost defensively over his chest. “It's hard, okay?”
Jake sputtered. “How is it any harder than learning a fucking dead language—“
“Coptic is not a dead language—“
“That’s not what I–you can read fucking ancient egyptian hieroglyphics , Steven, that’s not normal –”
“Boys.” Layla cut in.
“Oh! Hullo, love,” and like Steven hadn’t just been arguing with Jake about the fact that he knew five different languages holy shit , he drifted over to Layla and Marc with a smile as sweet as summer honey. He was just…so effortlessly pretty. “I missed you.”
Layla smiled, letting go of one of Marc’s hands to hold out to Steven. “You just saw me an hour ago.”
“Still missed you.” Steven took her hand.
“You’re ridiculous,” Layla shook her head fondly.
Her smile dimmed as she glanced over Steven’s shoulder at Jake, already looking away at anything that wasn’t their little group. Steven followed her gaze, then frowned. He looked like he was ready to walk back over to Jake, but before he could Marc placed a hand on his shoulder, murmuring softly in his ear. Whatever it was got Steven to back down, if not reluctantly, and after giving him a soft kiss Steven was pacified enough to let Marc go over to Jake.
“Taweret, can we use your waiting room?” Marc asked as he clamped his hands down on Jake’s shoulders, frog marching him towards the inside rooms without really waiting for an answer.
“Of course, dear,” Taweret gave one anyway.
“Hey, wait–” Jake tried to dig his heels in, to put enough weight back on Marc to get him to stop, but Marc just kept going. “--just–Marc, qué estás–”
“You and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Look, if this about what I said about señor guapo over there–”
And then they were gone, back in that odd maze of shifting hallways that Miguel and the rest of them had first landed in.
For a moment they all sat in an eerily still silence.
“Well that was weird.” Gwen said.
Miguel let out a heavy sigh.
–
“So–” Steven set his mug down beside him. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the rocking chair Layla was perched in while she absentmindedly played with his hair. Layla kept glancing at the door, like she was waiting for someone. “--getting you home is the easy part.”
They had all wandered after Jake and Marc, but instead of ending up wherever they went, Taweret led them to a door that opened up into a cozy studio apartment. The lighting was low and soft and warm and almost entirely provided by the fairy lights that were strung up around the walls. A fish tank filter bubbled away happily, the scent of lavender and jasmine was thick in the air, and even though there wasn’t much in the way of setting arrangements due to the massive amounts of books scattered everywhere, the couch that Miles and Ganke were sprawled across was so damn comfortable that Miles didn’t ever want to get off it.
“What’s the hard part?” Gwen had perched herself up on the wall, keeping her back straight against it while folding her legs neatly underneath herself. She had her own mug in hand, but where Steven’s was filled with tea, her’s held hot coco.
“Figuring out how you got here.” Steven answered.
“We fell through a hole in the floor,” Ganke said. “I don’t think there’s anything more to it.”
“If you were dead you’d be right. You fell through a hole into the Duat, end of story–” Steven sounded almost excited about it. “--but you’re all very much alive.”
“So?” Miles asked.
“So you are not supposed to be here, little Spider,” Khonshu cut in. He had been pacing back and forth in the kitchen, but now he was standing on the edge of the little nook they had all clustered into. Steven and Layla weren't at all startled by it, but Miles, Ganke, and Gwen jumped. Even Miguel twitched from where he was standing against the wall, bearing his fangs on instinct before catching himself and looking away. “The only way for the living to enter the Duat is to be an Avatar of the gatekeepers. As Taweret’s Avatar Layla El-Fouly is allowed to come and go as she pleases, as long as she does not abuse that privilege. Ammit is no longer permitted to have an Avatar, and Anubis–” Khonshu cut himself off. He did not have the ability to scowl, but Miles could hear it as clear as crystal in his voice. “Anubis has not taken an Avatar in centuries.”
Miles squinted. “That sounds like there’s a backstory there.”
“With Anubis or Ammit?” Gwen asked.
“Both.”
“You three--” Khonshu continued on like they hadn’t spoken at all, gesturing to Gwen and Miles before looking at Miguel. “--belong to Neith. You are her Harbinger and her Spiders. A gatekeeper can not claim you. But you –” Khonshu turned back to Ganke. He stared down at him in a stony silence for an uncomfortably long time before speaking again. “...you confound me, Ganke Lee.”
“Thanks,” Ganke said dryly. “I think.”
“Wait–what about Osiris?” Gwen looked over to Taweret. The goddess had been hovering around the edge of the room, letting the rest of them talk. “You said the only way we can get out of here is through his gate.”
“Well, yes, but you see, he’s, um…” Taweret trailed off.
“Dead.” Khonshu answered.
“Yes.” Taweret agreed. “That.”
“The dead can’t leave the Duat,” Steven jumped in at their visible confusion. “Unless it’s under very, very , extenuating circumstances.” He held out a hand. “If you can’t leave the Duat–” then held out his other. “--then you can’t help people leave the Duat.”
“You weren’t even completely dead, worm.”
Steven frowned, twisting around so he could look at Khonshu and point an accusatory finger at him, like this was an ongoing argument that they had never finished. “We were dead for at least a solid hour.”
Khonshu scoffed. “Perhaps, but your body’s heart was beating when I returned you to it. I made certain of it.” Then, “If I had not been able to start it again I would have eaten it.”
“You were stuck in a lump of stone you stupid pigeon, how would you have even–”
“When your wife broke my ushabti we became connected again–”
Layla blinked and looked up at Khonshu. “Why the hell did you ask me to be your Avatar then?”
“I did not want the worm to–”
“As riveting as it is to listen to this,” Miguel cut in. He sounded…not mad, but something very close to it. “ None of that tells me how we got here or how we’re getting back.”
“Oh, well getting back is easy enough.” Steven was all too happy to shift the conversation back, easily ignoring Khonshu’s sputtering at the blatant dismissal. “We just have to wait for Taweret to get us to a spot that’s close to your dimension’s strand so we don’t go cutting a rift through a thousand other dimensions while we’re at it.” Steven paused, his face falling ever so slightly. “As to how you got here…well, since I think none of you are an Avatar to a gatekeeper, the only other way in is if The Weaver or the Pathfinder opened a door for you.”
“What do you mean you think?” Ganke sat up. “I’d know if I was an Avatar, wouldn’t I?”
Steven shrugged. “I didn’t.”
“And yet here you are.” Khonshu grumbled.
“I doubt the pigeon opened a door for you intentionally–” Steven continued on as if Khonshu hadn’t spoken. “--which just leaves Neith. And I…I honestly have no idea why she’d open a door into the Duat. Not unless she was–”
Steven abruptly cut himself off.
“Unless she was what?” Gwen asked.
“Nothing. Nothing, it was just a dumb idea–”
“Say it.” Miguel’s voice was dangerously, frightfully cold.
Steven blinked in surprise at Miguel’s sudden demand, but he schooled his features back to a carefully neutral look so quickly that Miles wasn’t sure he had seen it right. The silence that fell into the room was thick and sticky and potent, a web Miguel had cast that Steven got caught in.
Steven met Miguel’s hard stare with an eerily calm look of his own. “What do you want me to say?”
Miguel pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against, stalking towards Steven and Khonshu with all the deadly gracefulness of a spider descending upon the fly. “That your pet god and his sister tore another hole in the multiverse to keep me away from some girl I don’t even know. ”
The heavy silence dropped out from underneath them like the floor beneath a hanged man.
Khonshu hissed. “I told Peter Parker not to speak to you of this–”
“He didn’t .” Miguel snapped.
He shoved his way past Khonshu and out the door, and then he was gone.
“I’ve got him–” Layla was already up and moving before anyone could react, hurrying after him and disappearing just as quickly.
Silence fell on them again, a cold ringing thing that rattled teeth and bones.
“Huh.” Miles blinked slowly. “...so that’s why he’s been in vampire mode all week.”
Gwen turned to look at him, then pointed threateningly. “Explain. Now.”
–
Layla knew far more about what Neith and Khonshu were doing than either of them knew.
Even if she were not so closely linked with the Duat and those that passed through, her patron goddess was a protector of children .
It did not matter that this girl was of Neith’s Spiders.
Taweret watched over her with just as much protectiveness and ferocity as Neith and Khonshu did each time she journeyed through the Duat and onto the next strand the Weaver and the Pathfinder guided her towards. Miguel O’Hara’s daughter had walked the same path that pharaohs and kings had, followed the rise of Khepri and the fall of Atum, traced the same footsteps as thousands of others on their journey towards their final resting place while she searched desperately for her own.
Layla understood why Neith and Khonshu had not told anyone who the girl was, why Khonshu had told Peter Parker to keep quiet with the little knowledge he had gained. This was the sort of information that could bring sunlight back to the world just as easily as it could snuff it out.
It was the kinder thing to keep Miguel in the dark.
But Layla also understood how much it hurt having those you love lie to you.
She knew the pain of it intimately. The bruises and cracks it left behind. The way you wanted to forgive but did not know if you could. The way you still loved them even when you could not stand to look at them.
“It gets pretty cold out here, you know.”
Miguel didn’t react to her call.
Layla took no offense to it.
He was leaning against the railing of the upper deck, arms crossed and balanced precariously on the wooden beams as he stared out into the sea of sands and dunes. He looked a bit like Jake like this–not in looks so much as it was that quiet melancholic look in his eyes. He was somewhere far away. Somewhere he did not want to be but didn’t know how to leave.
Layla closed the distance between them.
“My father was an archeologist,” she settled beside Miguel, clasping her hands together and resting her own arms on the railing. Layla kept a foot or so of distance between them, enough to not be suffocating, enough to be comforting. “He died five years ago. He was on a dig at Karnack–the private security he hired decided that the artifacts my father had found were worth more than what he was paying them. His whole team died that night. A single bullet to the back of the head–executioner style.”
“...why are you telling me this?” Miguel didn’t look at her as he asked.
He did not offer her condolences or an apology.
Only a silent understanding.
“It took two years for my husband to tell me he was on that security team that night,” Layla said.
Miguel snapped his head up in surprise.
“I don’t think I’d ever been more angry in my entire life.” Layla continued. She looked down at the slow moving sand, rubbing the pads of her thumbs together. The anger had long since gone, but for as much as she tried to push it away, a quiet ache still flared up on some days. She did not blame Marc for it. She never had. But this was a sort of hurt that stayed with you long since it’s been forgiven. “Two years Marc had lied to me about my father’s death, and I couldn’t understand why. For a long time I couldn’t even stand to be around him–” she paused for a moment, unable to help the sour laugh that spilled from her throat. “Steven had to play moderator between us–he was an angel for putting up with it, honestly. Marc and I were awful .”
Layla glanced at Miguel, gently nudging their shoulders together.
Well.
Her shoulder and his bicep.
He really was very tall.
“So…I get it,” Layla finished softly.
Miguel turned back to look out at the sandy ocean, but didn’t pull away from her. He just stayed quiet for a while, lost in thoughts that Layla could only imagine too well.
“You know what the worst thing is?” He finally asked. Miguel spoke so softly, almost like he was afraid to be speaking at all. He sounded so small, lost and hurt and frightened. “I miss them. I’m—I don’t even think I’m angry anymore. I just—“
“Hurt?” Layla finished.
Miguel nodded.
Layla stayed quiet, waiting for him to gather his words and continue.
“I don’t even care that they lied about the–the girl, or whatever she is. It’s that they lied when we said we wouldn’t–” Miguel cut himself off and took a breath. He was a lot like Marc when he tried to talk feelings and emotions without Steven’s help–words slipped and slithered away, lost to places that Marc was afraid to go alone. “I don’t know why they even did it. I just–I can’t understand their logic behind it.”
“You could always ask them,” Layla offered.
Miguel snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna make it any better.”
“Maybe not,” Layla agreed. “But at least you won’t be left wondering why.”
Miguel didn’t say anything.
“I think I just got angrier once Marc told me his reason for lying to me about my father’s death, to be honest,” Layla tilted her head slightly as she looked at Miguel. He could see so much of him in his daughter–the strong jaw, the way that dark hair curled at the nape of the neck, the defensiveness in their stance–but it was their eyes that were the most similar, Layla thought. They had both seen far too many terrible things. “But I understood where he was coming from and why he did what he did. And it was…I was able to forgive him, once I knew.”
“...what was his reason?” Miguel was hesitant in his question, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask it.
“He blames himself for what happened that night, because he couldn’t stop it.” Layla let out a weary sigh, turning to look back out at the sand dunes. It was strange to think about now, how she had almost lost Steven to them. “He was lied to about the job they were doing, he got shot, he was bleeding out and he would have died if not for Khonshu, and he still blames himself. So he thought I would blame him too, that I would hate him because he couldn’t stop my father’s murder.” Layla could feel Miguel’s steady gaze on her. It was not judgmental. Just…steady. “Once he told me that I was angry for an entirely different reason–I was angry he thought that I would stop loving him for something that wasn’t his fault.” She paused for a moment. This, perhaps, was the part that hurt her the most. To know that her boys had lived through this. “But he grew up in a house where everything was his fault. He had a mother who hated him because his little brother died, and she blamed him.” She looked at Miguel. “Why would he think this time would be any different?”
Miguel stayed quiet.
Layla shook her head, taking in a shaky breath. “I was just angry at myself then, that I had done something that made Marc think I would ever stop loving him.” She took in another breath, then pushed up and off the railing. “I’m not saying you have to forgive them, but maybe just…listen.”
She waited a few moments longer, but when Miguel kept his silence and turned back to look at the white sea around them, Layla left him to his thoughts.
She was halfway across the deck when she noticed Jake waiting for her in the open doorway.
“Hey–” she gave him a hesitant smile. Layla was happy to see him, if not surprised, since it seemed like lately Jake had been going out of his way to stay out of hers . She had thought they were finally getting somewhere, that he was at least starting to tolerate her, but it seemed like the very moment the thought crossed Layla’s mind Jake was running off again like a skittish feral cat. She knew Jake wasn’t exactly…used to people, but she had thought maybe…well, it didn’t really matter what she thought. “How’d your talk with Marc go?”
“Better than whatever the fuck happened with you guys,” he answered, glancing over her shoulder at Miguel. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the pollo that twitchy.”
Layla huffed out a soft laugh.
It sounded more bitter than she intended.
“Layla, I–” Jake started, stopped, then very hesitantly started again. “I–I don’t know how to…to do… this . With you.”
Just like she had with Miguel, Layla stayed quiet, waiting for Jake to find his words.
“I–fuck, I don’t know how to–” Jake tilted his head back in a groan, slapping his palms to his eyes before dragging them down his face. He looked…flustered. Layla had seen Jake startled and frightened, but never flustered . “Marc said you think I hate you.” Then, before Layla could even properly register that sentence, “I don’t. I don’t , I–Layla, I–oh for fucks sake–”
Jake was rambling.
Jake never rambled.
“Jake–”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, or at least I could fall in love with you, and that scares the shit out of me because I’ve never fallen in love –I mean, besides Marc but that’s different, I’ve loved Marc my whole life. And Steven too, I guess, but I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to not love Steven–”
“Jake–” Layla tried to cut in again, but Jake didn’t seem to hear her.
“--and I don’t know why it’s so different with you but it is . Steven says it’s because you can actually leave me because we don’t share a body or whatever, and that I’m scared of losing you because I have ‘abandonment issues’--” Jake mimed air quotes. “--which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard–if anyone has abandonment issues it’s Marc –”
Layla placed her hands on Jake’s cheeks and forced him into looking down at her. “ Jake .”
Jake snapped his mouth shut so abruptly that Layla could hear the click of his jaw.
Layla didn’t say anything for a moment.
She wasn’t even sure what to say.
Whatever she had been expecting to come from this moment hadn’t been Jake looking at her like she held the crystal casting of his heart hands, like he was terrified she would let it go, like he was even more terrified of taking it back. Layla could imagine letting it go. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else with it but tucking it away beside her own, where she could keep it safe . This was what always hurt her the most, she thought, that their mother had made them believe that the love and care Layla felt for them–that anyone felt for them–was conditional.
Jake didn’t take her silence as a good sign. He started shuffling, trying to back away. “I–I’ll just go–”
Layla pulled him into a hug before he could.
Jake stiffened, but Layla did not pull back.
“I would like to fall in love with you too, Jake Lockley,” she said softly. “Will you let me do that?”
It took a long time for Jake to relax, to settle his hands on Layla’s waist, to drop his cheek to the top of her head and hold her closer, to softly whisper, “I’d really like to.”
–
“Miguel!”
Miles ran out onto the deck of the boat, then immediately stopped as his stomach violently rolled and churned. He had been fine sitting down in that cozy little apartment, but now that he was, you know, back on a proper boat, he quite suddenly remembered that he was on a freakin’ boat.
“ If you are going to vomit, do it over the side of the railing.”
“I am not going to puke,” Miles huffed out.
He hoped, anyway.
“At least we know you get seasick now,” Ganke offered. He settled a hand on Miles’ back and another on his waist, helping to at least stay standing while he tried to keep his lunch down. Ganke was such a good boyfriend. Miles was so lucky to have him.
“It might not be seasickness,” Steven offered. He kept walking past them, turning around to look at them as he continued walking backwards to the prow of the boat. Marc had stopped to stand beside them, crossing his arms and watching Steven with a fond smile. “We are in the Duat–your particular dimensional signature might not be able to handle all the inconsistencies.”
Miles frowned. “I have DNA from three different dimensions. How would I not be able to handle it?”
“Three?” Steven blinked. His suit seemed to glow a little brighter. “Well, no wonder you feel so sick.”
Gwen snorted out a laugh.
Miles didn’t get a chance to respond before Miguel finally made their way over to them from whatever corner he had been brooding in. “Miles?” he came up in front of him, immediately checking him over for any hurt or injury. “Are you okay? Is something wrong–”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the anomaly and Neith and Khonshu and everything else–” Miles cut him off. “--if I knew it was gonna make you so upset I woulda–”
“Woah, hey–” Miguel cut him off almost as quickly as Miles had cut him off. “Miles, you don’t need to apologize for that. It wasn’t your job to tell me–”
“Yeah, but–”
“It’s fine. I’m fine .” Miguel said it a little harsher than Miles had been expecting. He flinched back in surprise, feeling even more nauseous at the look of guilt that flooded Miguel’s face. Miguel sharply pulled back, putting a good amount of distance between them. Miles hadn’t quite realized until then just how exhausted Miguel seemed, how it looked like he might fall over if the wind hit him just right. Miles already knew Miguel hadn’t really been eating this last week, but it wouldn’t surprise him if Miguel hadn’t been sleeping either.
Honestly, if he had been doing anything but staring at his computer screens, Miles would be surprised.
“Miguel?” Gwen asked. “Are you alright?”
“I–” Miguel started, then let out a heavy, weary sigh. “I just…need to go home, I think.”
“Well, lucky for you chaps we’re almost there,” Steven was rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, the suit jacket discarded and tossed aside. “Taweret, you might need to get us at a different angle.”
“Of course!” she hurried over to the helm. “Just tell me when!”
Steven looked up at the sky, tilting his head this way and that.
“Looks like we’re just in time.”
Miles looked up to see Layla and Jake crossing the deck to their little group. He lifted his hand in a wave.
“Hi Layla!” Both he and Gwen said.
Ganke rolled his eyes.
“Hey, lover boy–” Marc caught Jake’s hand in his, pulling the other man closer to him. Jake went willingly, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to Marc’s knuckles. Marc smiled so softly, tangling their fingers together and lifting his other hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of Jake’s eyes. “Good talk?”
Jake hummed an affirmative.
“Khonshu–” Steven held out his hand, not even looking away from whatever it was in the sky he found so interesting as he made a childish grabby motion.
Khonshu groaned and slapped his staff into Steven’s hand. “I can do this myself, worm.”
“Yeah, but that’s not as fun.”
Miles was half expecting Steven to stumble because of how big it was, but he maneuvered the massive crescent topped staff with a surprising amount of grace and tact. Steven propped the thing against his shoulder like it was nothing more than a cheap wooden stick, lifting his hands to box in the area he wanted like he was getting ready to take a photo. “Taweret, could you be a love and move us a little to the left?”
Miles clung tight to Ganke as the boat shifted.
“Perfect!” Steven clapped his hands together, lifted Khonshu’s staff, then brought it down in a wide arch and smoothly tore a seam in the Duat. “Right, there we go–” he passed the staff back off to Khonshu, taking a hold of the edge of the literal tear in reality and peeling it back like it was a living room curtain.
“...I totally get the Steven thing now.” Ganke whispered.
“See! I told you!” Miles whispered back.
“Alright–” Steven turned back to look at them. “Who's going first?”
“Miles, go.” Miguel cut in before anyone could say anything. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not gonna–”
“ Rápido .” Miguel snapped out, and he sounded so much like Rio when she was angry that Miles did exactly as he said, tugging Ganke along with him.
“Bye!” Miles turned around to spare everyone one last wave. “It was nice to see you again–except you, Khonshu. You’re still an asshole.”
Khonshu sneered. “Watch your tongue, little Spider. You are still before Anubis’ scales. Alive or not, it is still not too late to rip out your heart and devour it after it has been weighed.”
“You need some anger management classes or something, man,” Miles gave them all one last wave, and then he and Ganke were through the portal. Gwen followed behind at a much more leisurely pace, throwing up a loose two finger salute before stepping through after Miles and Ganke.
And that just left Miguel.
He stood in front of the portal, oddly hesitant to step through.
“Harbinger.”
Miguel turned to look at Khonshu, but didn’t say anything.
“I do not enjoy the trials and tribulations my sister and I are putting this girl through. I am not needlessly cruel, despite what others will tell you.” Khonshu said, uncaring at Miguel’s lack of response. “So I will tell you this. You did not come to the In Between on this night because my sister and I were trying to keep you and this girl apart. You are here because we are trying to bring you together.”
Miguel hesitated, unsure if he should say anything.
If he should do anything.
“Go.” Khonshu continued for him. “ The worm has kept the portal open long enough.”
“Wait–”
“ Go.”
Miguel did not move yet. He found himself looking back over his shoulder not of his own accord, his gaze landing on Layla.
She smiled softly. “Good luck, Miguel.”
“...thank you,” Miguel said even softer.
Then he stepped through the tear in the Duat, so similar to his own portals and yet hardly similar at all, and immediately crashed into Peter when he stepped out.
They went tumbling down to the floor of Miguel’s lab in a tangle of limbs.
“Mig–!” Peter sat up sharply while Miguel lay sprawled on his back, hesitating for a moment before pulling away completely from Miguel. Still trying to give Miguel the space he had all but demanded from Peter and MJ. “Fuck, baby, I was worried–”
Miguel tangled his fingers in the fabric of Peter’s suit and yanked him back down.
His hands were shaking, his eyes felt wet and his throat was tight, and Miguel was only able to hide the quiet painful sound that spilled from his mouth because Peter had yelped so loudly in his surprise. The warmth and feeling of Peter felt so good even though a part of Miguel still wanted to shove him away and refuse to look at him, the anger still so sharp and potent in his chest.
“...Mig–?”
“I’m still mad as hell at you.” Miguel cut him off, hiding away in Peter’s neck so he could be close but not have to look. He hadn’t seen if Miles and Ganke and Gwen were still here or if Peter had sent them scampering off to the medical rooms, but he didn’t really care either way.
He could feel Peter nod.
“We’re not okay.” Miguel continued.
“...I know.” Peter said softly. Guiltily. “Mig, I–”
Miguel held onto him a little tighter, cutting him off before he could continue. “I’m going to sleep with Mayday in her room for a while.”
Peter went oddly still, like he was afraid that if he moved it would make Miguel’s words untrue. Miguel just held Peter a little closer.
“She’ll be thrilled,” Peter finally said, the barest hint of unbelievable relief in his voice.
Miguel swallowed something sticky sweet and bitter. “...you need to tell me why you lied to me. And then…and then we’ll figure it out from there.”
Peter, finally, wrapped his arms around Miguel and held him just as tightly as Miguel held him. He was not holding Miguel out of relief and happiness. He was holding Miguel in a desperate sort of way, like he was afraid to let him go, like he was afraid this would be the last time he would get to do this. “...okay.”
Miguel took in a shaky breath. “...I love you.”
Peter sucked in his own sharp breath.
“Don't you ever do this shit to me again.” Miguel finished.
“I won't--I swear, I won’t,” Peter whispered the words, but they were the loudest thing Miguel had ever heard.
–
“I thought you weren't allowed to tell him anything about the girl.” Steven didn’t ask it so much as it was an accusation.
They were back on their own Earth, Marc and Jake asleep in the headspace, Layla asleep in their bed, and Steven was sitting on a London rooftop with a god, a senet board between them froze n in the middle of a game, looking down at a city that was never quite fully asleep.
Khonshu turned to look at him. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”
“No, I just…” Steven trailed off, pausing for a moment to find his words. Unable to find any to articulate just what he wanted to say, he settled on, “Why?”
“It was the right time.” Was Khonshu’s only answer.