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Hidden Piece

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Steven tried to keep an eye on the rapidly moving bird, an eye on the uneven terrain, and an eye on anything lurking to the back, front or side of him. A dizzying endeavor even before Khonshu set its punishing pace. Their path was straight or diagonal or circular, he honestly couldn’t tell as the bird seemed to suddenly veer in a different direction every ten minutes. Perhaps, they were avoiding people or obstacles only Khonshu could see up high in the trees, or, maybe, the bird was simply using the spare time they had while the other two regrouped to mess with him. To be fair, every time he thought he heard footsteps they were gone a moment later. Trying to follow the white dot in the sky, a root caught his foot. His sore hand splayed against the rough bark of a tree to keep him from toppling over.

I can slow down if you are unable to keep up,” it teased.

“That would actually be quite nice of you.” Khonshu grunted, but their pace did wane slightly. The sun was starting to rise, a soft yellow glow dappled the forest. The light became stronger as the trees started to thin out. At just past twilight, they found themselves in an open field. The area was populated by tall, wild grass. Steven stayed low. Crouched, he could maintain cover, the top of reedy stalks brushing against his face. The bird came to rest on a pile of brush just off a potholed, single lane, dirt road. It was the kind of route not meant for maps, only farmers and hunters.

As he got closer to the pile of branches, leaves and dried grass, it took on an unnaturally right angled, rectangular shape. Khonshu was preening its feathers sitting atop it as Steven approached. A couple meters off, the blur of dead greenery came into focus as something else entirely. It was a heavy netting over dark brown fabric accented with the various leaves and branches and dried grass. Khonshu pointed his beak down. Climbing under the tarp, he looked around in the little light that managed to penetrate the fabric. A car door was in front of him. Groping around, he found the handle. It would move but the door refused to swing outwards. Steven added his other hand trying to make it budge, throwing his good shoulder into it.

“It goes to the side.” Khonshu added helply after Steven put in another grunt of effort. Moved the right direction, the door slid open ruffling the heavy cover only slightly. Steven ducked in and closed the door back up, marking sure the camouflage was lying as flat as possible. The van was quiet, dark, and smelled quite pleasant.

The vehicle was a big, old truck. The ceiling was high enough Steven didn’t have to bend his neck to stand. There were only windows in the front cab, fabric mitigated sunlight coming through. Two cracked leather bucket seats. A cb radio sat under the analog AM/FM tuner. The back was all corrugated metal, wood planks strewn on the floor and shelves filled with stacks and stacks of bread loaves, rolls, and tiny crossed buns. The other two had settled on an aged baker’s trunk for their escape. Steven had to assume there was a method in their madness.

Looking around, Steven found an open case of water bottles under a shelf, a tire iron that seemed formative, and a tray of pear pastries. Hugging the side of the vehicle, he sat down with his findings. He seated himself behind the driver's seat, right off the side of the sliding door. It seemed like the optimal pace to get the drop on anyone coming in. Tire iron at his side, he tore through two sweets and three bottles. Hungrier and thirstier than he had ever been, he was willing to ignore that bottled water was an ecological disaster in a country with potable tap water and that no crust so flakey could be anything but butter based. Khonshu had left him to it, going off to look in on the other two.

The van lightened up as the sun rose over the horizon. Steven began to worry. He hadn’t been given their meet up location or a time, so he had no idea if everything was on schedule or behind.

“Khonshu?” Steven whispered, trying to get an update when he heard the fabric shift on the other side of the outside of the car. All his muscles protested but none rebelled as he commanded his body into a painful, strategic crouch. His cut hand managed a strong grip on one of the iron spokes. He was ready to strike when the door slid open and a man appeared under the trap.

“I wouldn’t,” a man with his face warned him before climbing into the back of the van with him. Hair slicked back with sweat. Right ear missing a small notch like a feral cat. His nose had been broken at some point and there was more than one healed wound cutting a white line on his face. The black scroll of a tattoo peaked through his collar. Bigger than himself and Marc, the man must have at least a stone or so of muscle on them. All that was wrapped inside the swagger of a gangster dressed down for field day at his kid’s school. Another man with his face who, in his opinion, looked so little like him.

“I’m…” cut off into a grunt. Steven had managed to surprise him, arms encasing him instantly. The name ‘Jake’ hadn’t rung any bells.

“Lock and key.” Locking it up and throwing away the key meant the end. The end of the repression, the end of pain, the end of loneliness. He knew that like he knew he protected Marc. More instinct than a proper thought. Tears of relief rolled onto the man’s shirt.

“Name’s Lockley,” he corrected him uneasily. “Jake Lockley.” His accent was American like Marc’s, sharpened with a twang and elongated at the vowels. Hesitantly, Jake wrapped his arms around Steven and rigidly patted him on the back. “You must remember me. I’m not the kinda guy people just run up and hug,” the man quipped, honest confusion dripping through his bravado. The body in his Steven’s arms was stiff, standing rod straight, arms articulated like an action figure. They were strangers more than anything else. Steven would be pulling away and apologizing, if Jake wasn’t doing well over fifty percent of the work to keep them pressed together.

“You used to drive me mad I think,” Steven said with grief and mirth. “Bit of chaos you are.” The metaphor seemed to appeal to Jake.

“Creo que me volviste loco también./I think you made me crazy too,” he said with shielded warmth. The kiss on Steven’s cheek was more sound than sensation. The hug was still stiff on Jake’s side, but Steven relaxed into it. Soft, warm and sturdy, the man just let him. Mid-hug, Steven felt the pigeon at their feet looking up curiously at the interaction. His impulse was to kick it and try to restore their privacy, but the bird hadn’t led him to his death moments ago so… next time.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” Steven huffed into his neck. ”With two of you, at least I’ll have company back there from time to time.” Steven attempted a weak smile. There wouldn’t be nothingness, just mostly nothingness.

“Gilipollas/Dumb ass.” Jake pulled back, scoffing in disgusted veneration. ”¿De verdad ibas a hacerlo?/You were really going to do it?” Jake dropped his arms, shaking his head like they had had this very uncommon debate several times before. “Trouble, that’s what I remember. You make trouble for me.” Steven was being scolded with the utmost affection. ”He didn’t pass along the message?” Just staring back, Steven had no idea who ‘he’ was. ”Puttin’ us together, that was Khonshu’s plan A, but he needs us to play ball to make it work because I dunno fucking magic or something.”

“The rules of Enead?” Steven guessed. They protected single bodied avatars from their god’s direct forms of harm, murder in particular. Taking away their physical bodies must be enough like killing them to count.

“Sure?” Jake glibbly agreed. ”But I’m not a terribly good man and Marc ain’t going to do that to you again. For now, we made a deal.” Steven hadn’t even realized he had scratches on his face until it scrunched in disdain.

“You should never make a deal with Khonshu.” Jake winced. Five minutes into the reacquaintance was probably not the right moment for Steven to start in on him, but a dumb idea is a dumb idea.

”Eh… Well… Probably not, but we wanted you back so…” Before Steven could make it clear what a one sided trade that must have been, he continued, speaking confidently over him ”And didn’t want the world to end, figured he’d be trying to drive us all insane if we didn’t at least negotiate. Khonshu is gonna figure something else out, relics or magic or I dunno. I think you’re going to help that somehow. Me and Marc get done what needs to be done as we are in the meantime.” Steven stood there gobsmacked, mouth taking a swift downward turn. ”No worries, burbujita.” With a lupine grin, he patted both his hands against his chest, swelling a bit with pride. ”I’m very good at this kinda thing.” Then deflating, ”And Marc, well, Marc’s… fine,” he ruefully admitted. “If push comes to shove vis a vis end of the world, we’ll be together, we’ll be able to do the thing, but no need to overreact.”

“We’re talking about the end of the world. No amount of reacting is overreacting,” Steven stated that obvious fact for him. “You can literally only underreact.” Smiling, Jake put one hand on each of Steven’s shoulders.

“When Spector gets back and we all get out of here, we’ll have stolen his husband and his ace in hold all in one evening. I’m tellin’ you, things ain’t dire yet.” Jake threw his hands wide, not that hard, problem solved. Steven was beginning to see more of that boy from the alley in him. Redirecting his focus to the floor, there was nothing to see unlike during their walk but it felt sitting in the corner-ish, so he turned to address it directly.

“So. I just spent a few days accepting my impending death and/or lifelong imprisonment in an endless void, for no reason other than you’re too bloody lazy to send along a message.” Steven balled his aching hands, walking towards it. Jake glanced around the room then curiously followed Steven’s line of sight. ”I’m guessing that was, what, some bullshit test of loyalty? If I think I’m walking to my death or worse, a lifeless void for decades, then I’m definitely not working with Harrow.”

Like I said, the cleverest idiot I’ve ever known.” Jake’s shoulders rose and fell oh so slightly, oh so quickly. Steven was guessing for a man in his field, that was the equivalent of jumping out of his skin. Khonshu had once said he had been getting better at detecting its presence, but Steven hadn’t believe it. But if Jake had missed the pigeon just non-comporally sitting there, then it must be true. It made sense. Steven would have more practice. The bird would have less reason to spy on them/through them, trying to conceal itself on the outskirts of their minds. Khonshu just seemed pleased with Steven’s comprehension, puffy and proud feathered chest. “You’ve been married to him for a long time, lived amongst his cult, learned at his feet. I was only being cautious, little egret.

“Steven. Wouldn’t. Betray. Us.” A strong voice reverberated out of the man’s chest, echoing in the small space. Each word was delivered individually, every one just as important as last. Steven would have instinctively taken a step back if anyone had ever spoken to him that way. He had been trained to understand veiled threats well. Jake was glaring an intimidating hole into the spot just left of where Khonshu was sitting. Having just come to his immediate defense, Steven didn’t have the heart to correct him. Jake’s expression lifted, turning back upwards on a dime. He looked over at Steven, smirk on his face. ”Little egret?” Steven rolled his eyes and shrugged. Jake laughed under his breath while the door next to them unlatched. Both snapped into motion. Steven squatted down for his tire iron. Jake put his body between Steven and the door, hand reaching into his hoodie. They were both poised when Marc’s head appeared out from under the tarp.

“Watch out, he’s a hugger,” Jake said, stepping aside. Which of the two was being warned was unclear.

“Marc,” Steven smiled, a little teary, letting his tire iron drop to the floor.

“Steven,” Marc smiled back at him, climbing into the truck. “Shit, you look like me with that haircut.”

“I thought so too,” Steven said, celebrating their exciting moment of cognitive unity, before the two got close enough that they magnetically embraced. Their hug was steely, both gripping and pulling to press themselves together as closely as possible. Marc’s fingers twisted into Steven’s shirt like talons and Steven’s hands were tense around bunched fabric, both trying to anchor each other into place. When Steven’s hands started to shake with the strain of it, Marc regretfully drifted them apart. His mouth moved with unsaid words. Steven was equally vocally stumped.

“How you doing, buddy?” finally tumbled out of a teary Marc. Steven coughed a laugh out of his aching chest.

“Um… long night but better now. I guess. You?” Marc shrugged, sorrowful eyes beneath an amused brow.

“Can’t complain.” Steven nodded. There was a clap of one body hitting another as the mirror images slotted back together roughly.

Just when I was getting two of you to work with some efficiency,” Khonshu interrupted. ”You three should be running, and I shouldn’t need to point that out.

Jake’s hand landed on Marc’s shoulder, brushing Steven’s in the process. The touch couldn’t be isolated to just the one at the moment.

“Spector. I know but we’re running late as it is. If we miss the delivery, our lives get even more complicated.” Marc let him go, nodding. ”I’ll get the tarp and you lay out the planks.” The van was uncovered. Steven helped Marc as much he could, pushing planks out the van door. Jake took the driver’s seat while Marc used the wooden boards to form a makeshift ramp to get the van out of the ditch and onto the dirt road. On the road, Marc reloaded the planks with extreme efficiency while Jake put on a driving cap, sunglasses, and a dark red uniform shirt. Marc climbed into the back and closed the door.

“You two stay low,” was all Jake said before magically peeling out in a bread truck on an unmaintained dirt road. Steven sat with his back against the driver’s seat and pulled up his legs so Marc could sit across from him, his back to the bread shelves.

“We’ve bribed a couple unconnected local drivers,” Marc explained. ”At the store, we’re going to get off at the loading dock and get in a dairy truck that’ll take us one county over. There we got a car Jake actually approves of, and off to London. A friend of mine…”

“Girlfriend,” Jake chimed in from the front. “Marc’s got a girlfriend.”

“She’s not…” Marc protested.

“Could be.”

“Don’t say that shit in front of her.”

“You’ve got a friend?” Steven asked awed by what he remembered to be a very quiet, solitary creature. The chortle from the driver’s seat hit Marc like water thrown on a cat. Steven realized his mistake. “Sorry, didn’t mean that to sound so surprised.”

“Yes, a friend of mine has a place where we can lay low. Identical triplets will raise eyebrows, so we’ll need some time to strategize travel. But…”

“We’re going to make it,” Steven interjected, smiling flooding across his face.

“Looks like.” Marc nodded, returning the smile.

“We’re going to make it.”

“Pretty straight forward from here at least for now. There’s a lot ahead…”

“I’m not going back,” Steven interrupted.

“No buddy, you’re not.”

“Because I figured it out.” Steven pointed at his chest with a giddy short of pride. “I mean I had help…” he began to backpedal.

“You figured it out,” Marc confirmed. ”Even Khonshu thought your plans were pretty well thought out. Never going to admit that, of course.”

“I made a good plan and then I did it.” Steven slammed his scratched up palm against the metal floor. ”I left. I left the compound.” Steven’s eyes went a little wide. ”I left him.” The statement felt surreal in his mouth. It was unknowable how repetitions it would take to make it ring true.

“You did.”

“It’s over.”

“It’s over,” Marc agreed, patting his knee.

“Acabado,” Jake agreed from the front.

“Because I ended it.” Steven giggled manically, new tears forming in his eyes.

Notes:

Please like and comment. Comments make my year. They really do. I read all of them, possibly(certainly) more than once. I've been trying to respond to them all because I love that you took time to write them in the first place.

I wrote a book length thing that I think is solidly not bad, you guys! And you read it! Awesome! And I've decided to let myself feel like that's a big deal. Which based on how I was raised is hard for me but going to try.

P.S. This lady’s dyslexia. I really did try to proofread this. Hand to god. But no matter how long I look some of it's just going to get through because I can’t see it at all.

Update: Now betaed by mxjules for your safety and convenience!