Chapter Text
He didn’t take up much space. Something he learned early on. The best way to avoid being a target was to stay small and unnoticed.
He didn’t take up much time. He had once explored what it was to have a life. He could remember walking outside and wondering if this was freedom. Anything away from that house seemed like a glorious freedom.
But with freedom he had made mistakes and they had paid for it. He then learned that what he needed to do was to take the stress that Marc couldn’t carry. When Marc started the fights that left him bloody and broken, Jake finished them.
He learned to give the time to Steven later on. Marc had his eyes on Steven with such longing and joy that Jake couldn’t bring himself to draw that gaze to himself. Especially when he sat so bruised and muddied in the dark.
It just wouldn’t help for Marc to know that there was someone else in the system suffering. Marc had enough internalized pain and guilt. It didn’t matter to him when or how Jake came about, Marc would blame himself. He would point to Jake saying: I did this. I’m so broken and wrong that there had to be another like me. I made him suffer.
So Jake learned to keep to the back. Let them have the life and time and space.
That was, at least, until they learned to drive.
Steven avoided it. Steven nervously held the keys and looked at the car with dread. Why drive when there was perfectly adequate public transportation?
Marc was fine with that. The less Steven did to wander off without supervision the better. Or so he told himself. Jake knew the truth. Marc was too protective.
Marc took the lessons, listening just enough to pass the tests. He was too preoccupied to notice Jake sitting up just behind him with large eyes and twitching fingers.
He slipped in easily, practicing when Marc took a day to hide from his own storms. His father in the passenger seat, Jake would forget to hide himself and settle into the driver seat as if he had been born there. Fingers sliding across the wheel, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror, he would grin and take each turn and break with the utmost precision.
When the test was done and the license was his, he would sneak out at night and explore the city.
THIS. This is freedom.
When Marc left (with Jake leading the way in the most unassuming way he could), new vehicles became available. They learned to drive the old clunky army vehicles from wars past his time on earth. If it had wheels he learned to drive it. If there was a class on driving of any sort, Jake slipped their name onto the roster: Combat driving, driving in stressful situations, hotwiring, repair, building, and stunt driving.
It was no wonder that when it came to making his own space that he chose his car. A car he had purchased in his own name with his own fake ID and used Steven’s address for. A risky move, but one he felt was worth it.
Even now, when they were all painfully aware of one another, Jake still had not made room for himself in the flat. There was no shelf with his books or trinkets. No space in the closet for his clothes. No soap shelf in the shower and no aftershave with his own personal scent.
All Jake had in the apartment was a single hanger for his coat, a small pile for his nicely folded clothes, a nail in the wall for his hat, and a change cup by the door for his wallet and keys.
It didn’t matter how much Steven nagged at him to add decorations or suggestions to make himself comfortable. Jake would just wave a dismissive hand and let the other two take up the space.
His car held all he needed. A bag of back up clothes and toiletries for the times when they may end up on surprise trips, his favorite coffee thermos, a book he was reading, and a few odds and ends that he enjoyed.
It was his space. When he was stressed or feeling overwhelmed, he could sit in his car and listen to music, read, zone out, take a nap…
For the most part, Marc and Steven gave him his space there. It was Jake’s grounding tool and if he was behind the wheel, they didn’t feel the need to take it from him.
Sometimes Steven felt chatty and would sit with him in his space, enjoying music or simply getting to know his new found headmate.
Jake didn’t mind. It was like inviting a friend over for afternoon tea.
When Marc sat with him, they often sat in awkward silence as they both struggled to come up with conversation. It had taken them a while to be comfortable enough to just turn on music and enjoy it together.
When Layla came into the picture, Jake had snuck away to the car many times and simply sat in it, hiding in a way. This was his safe space and he didn’t feel like an intruder there.
Steven still chuckled at the panicked way Jake had locked the car the first time Layla had found him sitting in it hiding. She had stood outside the car for five whole minutes before he slowly cracked a window an inch to talk to her.
Jake was ever grateful for the patience that was Layla as she let him introduce himself through that barely cracked window. Like talking to a startled rabbit, he had hunkered down in the seat and gripped the steering wheel like life depended on it. Perhaps he had been afraid she would invade his space like she had every other aspect of their life.
A full month later of her tapping on his window and chatting with him he had finally unlocked the doors and let her sit in the passenger seat.
To her credit, she hadn’t touched anything, though he could tell she was immediately curious about the space he had made his own.
She started slowly, letting him turn on the music. She waited until the second visit before talking. Asking him small questions that she had already known from talking to Marc and Steven, but letting Jake tell his side.
It took another month before Jake had warmed up to her and started offering her rides to her various jobs. He took her out to the country to let her enjoy the windows being rolled down and the long twisting roads.
A rule had been placed, negotiated by Steven, that if Jake needed his space he was not to be disturbed in his car. If he didn’t unlock the door, Layla would simply offer to bring him coffee then head back inside to wait it out.
Gifts of air fresheners, windshield wiper fluid, tire pressure gauges, and various tools were an easy way to win one’s way into his heart.
If Marc tapped out on a stressful day and Jake found himself front and center, he would shrug and go for a drive. Though at times, Steven demanded that they go back and face the problem.
Jake had a strong appearance of being far more relaxed than he felt. A thick outer skin, as Steven called it. In situations where Steven felt the tears flow and Marc chose to do as Marc does and hide, Jake took over to handle it.
He always handled it. It was what he did.
Fight the danger. Stop the bad guys. Stop the nightmares. Stop Marc. Settle Steven. Apologize to Layla. Save the body. Save them all.
On those long drawn out days and nights, he would slip away when all was said and done and sit in silence in the car to decompress. It was here that he let himself take the deep breaths and feel.
Sometimes those moments lingered as he dissociated and let everything float away while he sat safe and sound in the driver’s seat.
He didn’t like to have these moments around Layla. He was supposed to be the rock they all stood on.
It had been a long week. The dreams had been non-stop and even Steven was finding himself cranky from the lack of sleep. Marc had started a fight with Layla and immediately taken refuse behind Steven, who had been left awkwardly trying to make peace.
The argument had then carried on between Marc and Steven until Jake had gotten involved and now all three of them were in hot debate with one another. Something that didn’t happen often, but that would leave all three of them stressed out and exhausted.
By the time Steven had called Marc a ‘tosser’ Jake had decided he’d had enough and taken control. Grabbing his keys and hat, he headed out to his car. It was time for a little music therapy.
He had to walk a block to his car. There was very little parking available in London.
He walked the familiar steps, keys jangling in his pocket as he debated on what music to put on. Steven liked feely romantic songs or upbeat jaunty diddies. Marc liked the moody tunes or strong rock ballads that made it hard to think but thumped in his chest pleasantly. Jake liked soothing Spanish songs that lowered his blood pressure and made him think of long summer day drives.
Maybe they could compromise. A good thumping tuba beat, a jaunty accordion, and a soul filled voice with long drawn out tones might do the trick.
He whistled softly to himself and pulled out his keys as he neared his spot.
The whistling stopped and the steps slowed. Jake stopped and stared at the empty space.
He slowly looked up and down the street at all the cars lined up there then back to the empty space.
Keys in hand, his fingers moved to the clicker buttons and frantically pushed the button in an attempt to get the car to give out the tell-tale honk that might alert him to where it had been left.
Silence greeted him, painfully loud as he turned inward.
Did you move it?
Move what, mate?
The car. Did you move the car?
No, why would I move the car? You know I don’t drive. Maybe Marc took it for groceries or something.
Marc! Jake struggled to keep his tone down, considering he’d spent the last ten minutes trying to keep the man from losing his temper. Where is the car?
How the hell should I know? I haven’t touched your stupid car in weeks!
Jake took a slow calming breath. He glanced up at the parking sign, even though he already knew what it said. He was well within the legal boundaries and time frame. He was paid up on all possible passes he could get that let him park almost anywhere he needed.
Another slow breath and he fished out the phone.
She answered on the third ring. A sign she was still annoyed but not pissed off.
He could hear her take a breath. “What’s up?” A neutral offering. One she used when she was too upset to use a term of endearment but open to speaking to any of them.
Jake stumbled over his words. “The car. Did you… I don’t… Do you know where it is?”
All possible scenarios raced through his mind as he tried to find an answer that wasn’t the worst.
Layla had moved it, surely. She’d needed it for some reason and the parking space had been taken for some reason. He even looked around the street again, checking the name on the sign to make sure he wasn’t somehow on the wrong street.
“Why would I know where it is? I don’t drive your car.” She sounded annoyed that he’d even imply that she would take his car without his permission. And if he had been thinking clearly, he’d agree with her. She had always gone out of her way to respect all of their spaces and belongings. She expected the same courtesy for her own space and they gave it to her.
Jake clenched his hand around his keys in his pocket and felt a twinge of something tight building up inside him. “I don’t know. It’s not here.”
He hissed out a breath through gritted teeth. “Marc doesn’t know and Steven certainly didn’t move it.”
“Maybe one of you moved it and forgot.” Layla’s voice sounded less annoyed now.
Her suggestion was reasonable. Marc was prone to absently doing things at times… But something this big was not likely.
Jake shook his head, though she couldn’t see it. “No. It’s not here.”
“Did you get towed?” Layla shuffled in the background and he could picture her already flipping through information on who to call for towed cars in their area.
“Why would it get towed?!” Jake snapped. “I’m parked where I always park. It’s. Not. There.”
There was silence on the other end and he instantly regretted the outburst. He started to pace the sidewalk, the keys digging painfully into his hand. “Maybe… Maybe someone… Someone moved it.” He would rather face the possibility of some new unknown person in their system taking the car than what was now creeping through their minds. “That has to be it. I don’t appreciate being lied to. If someone moved it, you have to tell me. Now.”
“Jake…” Layla’s voice was calm but he could hear her struggling to reason with him. “I don’t think someone moved your car. You have the keys and I haven’t seen any signs of… Anyone else…”
No one else here, Jake. Steven piped up.
“How the hell would you know?! You didn’t notice two of us for your whole life!” Jake felt the keys dig in and something warm run over his knuckles.
It was hard to know if he was addressing Steven or Layla. Either way, it stung at both of them and Jake let out another hiss of air and he struggled to find the words to apologize and lost them.
“That isn’t fair, Jake…” Layla whispered softly but firmly. “Come back to the flat and we’ll make some phone calls, okay?”
Jake paced back to the spot that was still empty. It was on this third and fourth inspection that he noticed something by the curb.
Silver and glinting in the light, he stooped to pick it up. It was a door lock, popped out of place. He pulled out the keys and slowly slid the car one into the lock and felt it click.
“Jake?” He could hear Layla on the phone, though it suddenly sounded far away.
“Bugger.” Steven’s voice came from his mouth and he felt the phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, love. I don’t know how long I can hold ground here… Jake’s… Oh this is bad. Hold on.”
Jake took a forced breath and clenched his muscles, pulling the body tighter and tighter until he felt pain flash across his hand before Steven pulled back hard and forced the fist to unclench and at last release the keys back into his pocket.
They stared down at the damaged hand in confusion as the mind ground to a halt and processing of any situation staggered.
Marc stepped in while the other two continued to pull back and forth. “Someone stole the car.” Marc was concise and quick.
Layla instantly was in motion. He could hear her moving around the flat. “Wait for me. We’ll call the police and report it stolen, okay? Maybe they’ll find it.”
“Nnh.” Marc felt a headache blooming as Jake started to push against him too. “He’s pissed. I don’t know if I can hold him. He’s going to do something stupid.”
Coming from Marc, that was saying a lot. The sound of Layla’s breathing increased and he imagined her running now. “Don’t do something stupid. Just stay there.”
“Yeah sure. Easy as pie.” Marc muttered as he tried to root them to the spot. Marc didn’t exactly have the best track record of the three to be able to stay grounded or in control. Not to mention he was also feeling a bit pissed off about the car too.
How dare someone do something like that to them. Didn’t they know how much this stupid car meant to them? His protective streak kicked in and Marc felt his shoulders start to tense as he thought about the injustice of it all.
Steven was doing his best to talk everyone down. Even if they had still been working for Khonshu, how were they supposed to track down one missing car in all of London? Much less the person or persons that had stolen it.
Then what? Murder the thief? Beat him to a bloody pulp? These were things that crossed Jake and Marc’s minds, but that Steven riled against it.
When Layla at last got there, she found them staring at the ground, tense and coiled and firmly rooted to the spot.
She touched their shoulder gently and slowly took their non-injured hand.
Steven blinked slowly and looked up at her with a smile before he seemed to remember the situation and let out a loud sigh. “Hey… Marc is… Handling things.”
“How is Jake?”
“Being…handled…” Steven gave her a very sheepish look. “He’s not taking this well.”
“I’m so sorry, Steven…” She gently pulled him in and Steven leaned into her. “What can I do to help?”
“Call the police for us?” He breathed in her scent and slowly let his body relax. “Jake is going to be…out for a while… and Marc isn’t sure he can front for the report. I’m going to have to file the report and I need a minute to settle things.”
Steven hated this part.
He was not good at being the one to take charge. Even more so, he hated having to pretend to be someone else. Jake and Marc could pass for one another without any issue. Jake had made a life out of not being seen, after all. It also helped that they both tended to have tight frowns and similar accents.
Then again, neither of them could pull off Steven Grant. It was one of the reasons Layla had been able to catch Jake at the start. No one could smile with such open hearted honesty like Steven. Wide eyed and trusting, he even carried the body differently.
Steven had been proud of this fact at first. No one could be him. He was the only him and it also meant Layla would always know it was him.
And then he had attempted to pretend to be Marc for a meeting at the bank. It hadn't of mattered in the end. They had never met Marc and for all they cared, Marc was just another Englishman trying to complete a transaction. Yet, Steven had it in his mind that he needed to at least look the part and TRY to seem a little American.
By the time he had left the bank he had been convinced that they had called the police on him for fraud or something worse.
Now he stood in place waiting for the police to arrive. He still hadn’t moved far from where they had initially grounded. Every step felt like he might lose his place and they would spiral again.
He had fished out Jake’s wallet and checked the ID repeatedly for any signs that it might not be real. There stood Jake in the picture, tall, sharp, and with the smallest of grins as if he somehow knew this license would be a game changer for him.
Steven reflected back to his own ID that was stashed in his own wallet on his dresser. He had kicked up a fuss until Layla had gotten him one. With Marc being a wanted international criminal, Steven felt it only fair that he be the one to handle legal things as they arose.
Except for when it came to the car. That had always been strictly Jake’s area.
The police arrived and Steven nervously clutched at his shirt that suddenly felt far too tight on him.
His hands shook as he handed over the license and did his best to pull his face into that tight sharp look that Jake was best known for.
The cop wrote down their address and contact information then handed back the license.
Make and model? Steven wasn’t sure. He didn’t know anything about this car business. He probed inside for the appropriate memories and managed to get a chunk of knowledge from Marc. At least enough to give a proper description. Layla filled in the gaps when Steven couldn’t tell if Marc was yelling blue or black.
License plate? Steven didn’t know. Was that somewhere on his driver’s license? Maybe Marc knew.
Wallet. It’s on the insurance card. Marc gruffed when Jake suddenly surged forward.
The wallet tumbled from their fingers and Steven turned away from the cop, hands on his hips as he struggled to gain back control.
Layla swooped in and gave an apologetic smile as she retrieved the wallet. “Sorry. He’s… This is all hitting him real hard.”
“Insurance card.” Steven managed to stammer out before the body continued to pace.
She dug inside for the insurance and handed it over so they could get the VIN and plate number.
The officer only nodded and handed back the wallet. “Thank you.” Layla hesitated then leaned in and whispered something confidently with him. He glanced up at the pacing man and pity spread across his face. He nodded and tipped his hat.
Steven had just enough control to take the wallet back and offer his sincere thanks as the officer left with promises to contact them if anything came up.
“What did you say?” Steven ran a hand through his hair as he watched them leave. The hat was firmly in their pocket now, proving to be too much of a trigger to pull Jake back out.
“I gave them my contact number.” Layla watched the officer leave. “I said you were recently out of the military and were taking this pretty hard.”
PTSD. The one thing people seemed to have the most pity and understanding of. A quick and easy explanation for any erratic behavior they might display.
Steven nodded, but couldn’t hide his crestfallen face. “Was I that bad? Do they think I’m a bit loony now?”
“No.” She moved to him quickly. “Not at all! Your car just got stolen! Of course you’re going to be upset and not yourself! At least as far as they’re concerned!”
Steven nodded then stopped and looked at the empty space again. The space felt like it had eaten into them and hollowed something out.
Layla turned to leave but stopped when they didn’t follow.
“Come inside… There’s nothing we can do here.” She held out a hand towards them.
Still, Steven couldn’t get his legs to move.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Jake… Let go.
He felt the hole in the pit of his stomach deepen as Jake released his hold on the body at last, sinking down and away.
Steven took a step then gripped Layla’s hand tightly with his good one. He looked curiously down at the other hand, noting the deep gash across his palm. He would have to clean that up. That was normally Jake’s job.
I got it.
Marc offered, reaching out as he glanced back at the empty parking space.
Steven squeezed Layla’s hand tighter. He wanted to warn her. To tell her that he could feel the crash coming.
He was exhausted. Marc gritted his teeth and moved to shoulder the burden as he always did. He would carry it. It was all on him, after all. Like an older brother, he pushed Steven away and followed Layla back to the flat.
Steven cautiously settled in, watching from the back as he felt the hole inside grow.