11613/Four Years, Two Months, and Two Weeks

Four Years, Two Months, and Two Weeks
Date of Scene:	15 June 2022
Location:	Dormitory 04 - The Midnight Mission
Synopsis:	Marc reveals the precariousness of his mental state with Layla after recovering Cael from her dramatic transformation. She offers a solution to the state that he has to take time to think on.
Cast of Characters:	Marc Spector, Layla Abdalla El-Faouly

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Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc had stumbled into the room with Layla's help and dropped into the sofa in the living area of the apartment underneath the Midnight Mission. He looks haggard and the suit looked too big for his frame. The vitality of his patron's notice was as absent as the patron itself these days and the fear that had overtaken the man at the end of the last mission didn't sit well on him.

    He takes a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. "I've got to get a handle on this..." he mutters, more to himself than to the woman with him. His wife. The woman he was all but certain he had cut out of his life. And yet here she was, saving his life from creatures he's had zero trouble with for over four years.

    Still, she did well. Better than well. "You... you were good tonight" he says softly to her, more directly. His dark eyes were focused on her now.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla helps Marc to the seat, then turns towards where the kitchen is to see if she can't rustle up some borth or tea for him to drink to help calm his nerves. Stopping within three footsteps, she looks back to Marc and smiles faintly. "Thanks. I know I haven't been doing this as long as you have, but.. from the hints I've gotten from Taweret, we have a better... relationship. Which makes me both sad and curious for how things operate between you and Khonshu."

Pausing, she looks down at her ceremonial garb, then dismisses it for her normal clothing. She motions to his suit and asks, "Do you want me to get you something... normal.. to wear? I'm sure I can scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for you..." Layla pauses, then rubs at the back of her neck. "You know, for a few months I was really pissed, blamed you for getting me into all this. Taweret, though, she kinda talked me out of it. Had nothing but nice things to say about you."

Marc Spector has posed:
    "When the terms are 'serve me and I save you' or 'deny me and you die' there's not much room for negotiation" Marc says with a wry smile. He pushes himself to his feet and makes for the bedroom. He leaves the door open as the sound of straps and buckles come from beyond as he gets the armor off, piece by piece.

    His voice comes from the room. "I've met her, Taweret... she's friendly. More so than most of the pantheon. I guess part of it is working with children. The rest of them are either stoic, aloof, or downright arrogant in their positions. There's a couple of bright spots but... she's one of the brightest among them."

    Tea is not hard to come by, as one of the cupboards holds an variety of types caffinated and non and a kettle on the stovetop is more than serviceable.

    Marc emerges in a light gray tee shirt and a pair of ash colored lounge pants. "You still have every right to blame me. What happened to you... I should've made sure that it didn't. And for that... I'm sorry. Really." His tone has the air of genuine remorse in it. He's being serious enough in his apology.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
"Well... that's not terribly different from the terms I was offered, either. Taweret is just much more... open, to feedback and suggestions. She talks to me, not just orders me about. Which is nice." Layla lifts a small shrug and starts opening cupboards. Once she finds the tins of tea, she plucks up a mint one and sets it on the counter, taking the kettle to fill with water before setting it to the stove and turning the heat on.

Stepping back out, she looks over to him, smiling faintly at his choice for shades of grey for his clothes, then gives a nod, "She does definitely seem to be more outgoing. The children part certainly helps, but I think it helps too that works with the souls as well." Layla finds herself a chair, turning it around so she can straddle the seat and rest her arms on the back.

Canting her head to one side, she smiles faintly and lifts one brow, "And just what were you going to do to ensure that? Not have left in the first place? Because that's the only thing that would have kept me from looking for you with every means at my disposal." Shaking her head, Layla looks down at her hand, "I have only myself to blame. I started getting desperate, going to contacts that I knew were sketchy. But I was running out of leads."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc shrugs at her question. "I don't know... maybe?" he says. "I just... you shouldn't have had to take on what you did... just because I went AWOL." He runs a hand through his hair. "It's not fair to you... even if it was something you were more than suited for..." He sighs and shakes his head. "I should've been more open with you. More forthcoming. Told you the truth?"

    He looks at her across the way and frowns. "Instead, you find out about the business with Khonshu via a goddess and a cult who wanted to use you to get to me. A cult I wasn't even aware of." He looks pained. "And you show up at a time where my head is barely screwed on straight."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Rolling her eyes, Layla levels him with a Look. The Wife Look that says he's just said something very dumb but she's not going to take offense. Instead, she shakes her head, "That's not how this works, Marc. You don't get to claim responsibility for -my- actions. I won't have you removing my agency. What parts I haven't already given away, anyways." She crosses her forearms over the back of the chair and leans forward, "I'll agree with you on the last part. But that wouldn't have stopped me from chasing after you."

The kettle whistles and she pushes up from the chair to pull it off the heat. Fixing them each a cup of tea, making his how she knows he likes it, taking hers with just a touch of honey. Carrying the mugs back out, she moves over to Marc and sits next to him, holding the mug out towards him with a small smile. "I'm your wife, Marc. That means through the good and the bad. Ups and downs. Thin and flush. Even if.. even if you sign the papers and we're no longer married, that doesn't mean I won't still care about you, try to help you, protect you."

She gives him a light nudge and smiles faintly, "That's kinda what we do, right? Watch out for each other? Been that way for years. No reason it should stop now."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc makes a face at the woman as he takes the tea and she says possibly the kindest thing he's heard in a long time. "You're right... of course..." he says taking a slow sip of the tea. It starts to settle his fears almost immediately. "Fine. You ended up where you are by your own account." He frowns and looks at her for a long moment.

    "Even if I was closed off with you before... it doesn't mean I have to stay that way..." he says with a long exhale. "I'm... not sane, Layla. Not by a long shot. Even before the Khonshu business... you married a madman... and you should've known that long before now." He looks at her to see how she reacts and to let her absorb that revelation.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla sips from her mug and gives a firm nod, "Thank you. I get myself into plenty of trouble on my own. That most of it -revolves- around you is irrelevant." She smiles faintly and glances sidelong at him, inviting him into the joke with her. The frown has her brows lifting up at him.

She listens. Really listens. Then sips at her tea. Layla looks back towards him, head tipped to an angle as she watches him. "I had my suspicions that there was... more going on. More than Khonshu, I mean. I figured those were just.. CIA things. But there were other times... other instances where... I don't know. You weren't packing a bag and kissing me as you headed out the door."

She lifts her mug for a nother sip, "Do you want to tell me what it is, or are you not ready for that, yet?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc is silent for a long moment before he answers her. His tea is sipped as he collects his thoughts. Finally he breaks the silence. "In some ways I am the perfect vessel for Khonshu's power. Lunacy, madness, has often been associated with the moon and just as the moon has many faces. So do I."

    He looks at her and takes a breath. "How much do you know about Dissociative Identity Disorder?" he asks. He takes another sip of his tea and swallows, feeling not only the warm liquid slide down into him, but a lump of nerves that settles in his belly in a tight knot of discoomfort.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Watching Marc for long moments, Layla doesn't offer any commentary or judgment. She just... listens. And sips her tea. Holding the mug with both hands to let the warmth seep in. Smiling faintly, she lifts a small shrug, "Not terribly much. It used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder, it's always portrayed badly in films." Her dark eyes watch him, unworried but showing concern for him.

Reaching over with one hand, she gives his a squeeze and murmurs, "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Marc. I'm not here to make you feel uncomfortable or nervous. I just want to know my husband and best friend better." She twitches a smile at him and gives another squeeze before pulling her hand back to the mug. "Take all the time you need, okay?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc shakes his head. "You should know. It's important. I have two other people--other personalities--who share headspace with me. Three if you count Khonshu. One I've had since I was young. Maybe 8 or 9." He pauses and takes another sip of the drink. "The other... I gained during my time with the army. In Afganistan."

He takes a slow breath. "The first is Steven Grant. You've probably heard the name. Owns the thrid largest tech firm in the area after Stark and Wayne." He gestures to himself. "When he's out and about town... rubbing elbows with high society, it's my body. When he's attending dissertations on Egyptian history or new discoveries about the Old Kingdom, it's my body. My face..."

    Another pause. "The other is Jake Lockely. He's a cab driver in East Harlem. His ties are... well, not too unlike yours to be honest. He has contacts to most of the criminal underworld of the area. Gangs. Organized crime. He's been a drug runner more than a few times." He shakes his head. "He's... dangerous. But it's still my body." He sips more of the tea softly, letting her take it in.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Nodding, Layla falls quiet and shifts slightly to lean in a little against him. Some small show of support without being overwhelming. She keeps her eyes focused on a point on the floor so he isn't feeling stared at, but she certainly shows her attention is on him. He can feel the gentle weight of her arm and shoulder against his. Warm, comforting, but not pinning his own arm down.

"I have colleagues that rave about Steven Grant and his expertise. That exclaim about how we haven't met or spoken... but I suppose that makes sense. On some level he would try to avoid symposiums or dig sites or events that I might attend..." Layla smiles faintly, lifting her mug to sip from the tea before adding, "I'd seen a few... pictures here and there in papers. But you know how grainy those can be, especially where I spend my time. So I could see a resemblence that made me suspicious, but never enough to really confront you with anything." Pausing, she adds, "I suppose I just assumed it was a cover id that you might be using."

The mention of Jake Lockley has her chuckling low in her throat. "Ah yes. He and I have competed over certain items and contracts before. Remotely, of course." Layla purses up her lips and murmurs, "I suppose that's who was on the other side, trying to keep my contacts and friends from giving away too much information." She makes a small sound at the back of her throat, "Too bad he didn't warn off my enemies, too."

After speaking, she finally looks at him, trying to find and hold his gaze. "I won't say this is.. easy. Or that I can just, you know.. roll with it. It will take some getting used to. And there may be some friction between myself and Lockley, though I think Grant and I can get along just fine." Layls squares her shoulders and bolsters up a smile, "But I think we can figure out how to work with each other."

Marc Spector has posed:
    "That's just it...Khonshu... his presence fostered a cooperation that I wasn't used to until it happened" Marc replies. "Without him... it's all gone back to darkness for the others. They don't know who I am. Or my life. Every second here is a struggle to keep ahold of myself." He shakes his head. "When I was faced with what Cae had become... I felt the control slip and almost had one of them take over before I wrested control back. Even now..."

    He grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and takes a slow deep breath. "Even now I feel the pressure. It's draining. And I can't keep it up forever. The longer I push against it the more likely it'll happen at an inopportune moment and Steven will wake up here with no memory of how he got here. And then he'll rationalize it as having a long day after checking in on the shelter he funds or something." He shakes his head. "That's why... without Khonshu... I can't be trusted. Jake and Steven don't have the control or shared knowledge that I do. They're there to protect me when things get hard but... there's not sharing involved. This is as much their body as it is mine."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla gives a not, brows knitting together for a long moment before she finally lets out a breath and glances upwards, beyond the ceiling. "This is really what you meant by protecting him, isn't it? Not just physically. I'm supposed to help keep him... grounded?" She pauses, then gives a nod, frowning before murmuring, "I can -do- that?" A longer pause and then a long breath and a nod, "Okay... but.. I have to tell him." She gives a nod, then smiles faintly, "Thanks, Taweret. Yes I know, tea with Ma'at soon. I'll make sure to remind them."

Looking back to Marc, she smiles faintly, "So.. it seems I'm here for twofold reasons. Not just to protect you in body... but to offer you the potential to... resolve yourselves.. in spirit." Layla spreads her hands out, one still holding the mostly empty mug, "I didn't know this until just now. But... apparently I can put you in a deathlike state. Then you, Steven, and Jake, would end up in Taweret's custody. You would have an amount of time to sort of... cleanse.. your three spirits and accept each other. If you succeed, you awake from your comatose state, and have a better... awareness and understanding of one another. If you fail..." She frowns faintly, then looks to Marc, "Then I can try to bring you back, but there's no guarantee it will work. Meaning you could end up trapped."

She pauses, then looks towards Marc, "It's your choice. Taweret is offering you the opportunity, but she won't force it on you." Layla reaches over to offer her hand to him, smiling faintly, "I'll back you up, whatever you choose."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc listens to Layla's--or rather Taweret's--offer with a frown creasing his features. "That..." he runs his unmugged hand through his curly mass of hair. "Sounds dangerous as hell and more than anything I've let myself have with the contact of the gods." He looks over at her. "You're really something else, you know. Stepping in and having all this knowledge and power and just... riding it better than I ever did."

    He lets out a slow breath and finishes off his tea. "I'll have to think on it. The danger is the main concern. There are... contingences for Spector Corp if I ever had an irreversable accident. The board would handle things and the company would continue on. PMCs are always going to need funding and the DOD contracts will keep the company running for as long as the government is intact." He nods. "But... it sounds like a good plan... and I'd trust you" he says. "If you were the one to do it."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla gives a small nod and closes her hands around the mug again, "It would be. But... while you would be in Taweret's domain, under her guidance... she won't force her way into your journey. Acceptance of yourselves won't last if it feels forced. But being in her domain means that -other- Gods," she doesn't -say- Apophis, but the intimation is clear, "can't interfere. It will give you the time you need to find some sort of balance with Steven and Jake, without the others interfering."

She pauses, then glances to him with a smile, "Well, it's really Taweret's knowledge and power. She just... lets me speak for her. We had a few instances early on where she was constantly trying to speak -through- me and it wasn't working very well. So, we've had some trial and error. But really, I have to say that the bulk of the 'good relations' is thanks to Taweret. She's made this more of a partnership than what I think it would normally be." Layla flickers a faint smile, "We also share a lot of values, so that works, too."

Finishing off her own tea, Layla sets her mug aside and gives a small nod, "I would be worried if you agreed too easily so.. thank you for giving me some small peace of mind." Looking to him, she smiles softly, "Please do think on it. In the meantime.. if you feel yourself slipping, you can always come to me. I'll try to help keep you grounded in yourself. Ah, mundanely." Layla glances down at her clasped hands and smiles, then looks back to him, "You think I'd let anyone else do it? Hell no. I'd be doing it, and I'd be staying with your body through it all, so I can monitor your condition."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc nods. "Right... I've gotta say... I'm more than a litle envious" he replies. "If Khonshu and I..." He trails off with a shake of his head. "I guess after this is done and finished he and I can renegotiate the terms of our agreement... maybe." He sighs. "So many things to think on."

    He takes a breath. "There a few things I need to see to here before I let one of them even consider going on walkabout... I need to make sure Jon knows to use Room 2 for Cael when he decides to move her tomorrow... hopefully." He leans back. "But first I need to get some sleep." He shakes his head. "Still getting used to that whole concept again." He looks at Layla and looks vaguely embarrassed. "I can uh... go to Room One if you want to stay here..."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
"I mean, having heard some of how your and Khonshu's relationship works... I don't envy you it. But I'll do everything I can to help you gain some better terms," Layla smiles towards him and gives a little nudge to his shoulder. She glances at him sidelong to murmur, "Maybe I can get Taweret to help lean on him to offer some better terms... or at least to work on his approach."

She gives a nod, making like she's about to rise to give him his privacy. His words halt her halfway up and have her looking back to him, "Do you want me to go? I can... I can stay. If you want." She drops her gaze and straightens up, "I mean.. I can maybe.. help you sleep. Really sleep. Without. You know." She motions with one hand even as her cheeks heat up, "Without one of the others taking over." She flashes a quick, awkward grin, "You know me, I can sleep anywhere."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc blinks. "I'd... I'd like that... if you stayed I mean..." he clears his throat. "I mean, not like...not like that... I meant... in case one of the others... just in case..." He chuckles and sets his mug down. "We're acting like a pair of teenagers, aren't we?" he asks, still sounding a bit nervous.

    "But... I'm serious" he says sobering some. "Having someone to keep an eye open just in case it's not me who wakes up would probably be a good idea." He glances to the bedroom. "Besides it's a queen sized, not like we'd be cramped in too close together or anything..." He rolls his eyes. "Christ... it shouldn't be this difficult to have a conversation about sharing a bed with my wife."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Laughing at their own ridiculousness, Layla turns and leans in, kisses him chastely yet firmly, then straightens. "Come on, you. I'm stealing some of your sweats to sleep in." She holds out a hand to him, smiling in that easygoing manner she has, just a hint of mischief lingering around the eyes as she watches him. "If you're really good, I won't even send you out of the room while I change."

Wiggling the fingers of the offered hand at him, she winks and tilts her head towards the bedroom, "I won't even hold the covers-stealing against you."