You woke up with a start as the door to Steven's apartment shut, and he walked in. You were pretty sure it was Steven; in the short time you'd known Marc, you noticed that his hands hung comfortably by his sides, whereas Steven tended to fiddle with his fingers.
"Steven?" you said cautiously.
"Mornin' love," he said glumly. "Well, that's it. I got the sack."
"Aww Steven," you sympathised, "I'm so sorry."
"S'ok, I don't blame 'em. I'm a vandal. I should've been arrested," he said and you shook your head roughly.
"No, you're not. It was..." you trailed off and caught his eye and he frowned.
"I don't remember getting home last night," he said. "I saw security footage of you and me walking out but... that wasn't me."
"Both of us?" you said. "Am I fired too?"
"No," he said, "I – he. We?... Covered your face. Donna knew who you were but she said you were under my 'bad influence,'" he quotation marked.
"How could they fire you. Didn't they see the... the..." you couldn't bring yourself to say jackal. Steven shook his head.
"Security cams caught nothing," he said sadly.
"Steven, I still don't understand what's going on with you," you said, "but I'm with you, and whatever it is, we'll get through it. We just gotta get some answers, somehow." You looked at Stevens reflection in the mirror, so did he, but there was no second person.
"The key, that's worth exploring, isn't it? Like, if I could find that storage locker, that might be my one chance to prove to myself that I'm not mad. Prove to us both." You nodded at his sudden burst of enthusiasm.
"Tell me what you find sweetheart," you said and his positivity dipped.
"You're not coming?" he asked, anxiously twiddling his fingers. You shook your head.
"I've still got a job," you said quietly, "and I'm determined to get yours back."
"y/n..." Steven said.
"Just let me try," you said. "I'll see you later, yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, taking the key off the table. "Laters gators." You waved him off.
***
When you returned home from work, unsuccessfully securing Steven's job, you could hear him talking. It was unusual for him to have company – you were his only friend. You opened the door and two people turned to look at you.
"y/n," Steven said, "this is..."
"DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy," Kennedy said.
"And what are you doing here?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.
"We were here because he's in possession of a stolen item," Fitzgerald said, "but then we found this." He held up a passport. "Marc Spector?"
"That's not mine," Steven said quickly and you looked at him worriedly.
"Funny that. Fella looks just like you."
"Look, I don't know how to explain what's happening," he said, and you noticed Steven's reflection change.
"Steven," Marc warned.
"I don't expect you to believe me."
"Steven, listen to me."
"I honestly don't really believe it myself. All I can do is try..."
"You're making a mistake."
"... and show you what I found."
"Steven, you found this in the storage locker?" you asked and he nodded.
"Steven, don't," Marc threatened.
"Listen, inside was all sorts of things," he said, "including..." he trailed off as he took a step away from the bag.
"Steven, stop what you're doing right now, don't show them what was in the bag."
"Most interestingly -"
"You're going to get y/n killed! You hear me?!" Marc yelled, and you and Steven stared at his reflection.
"What?" you said, Fitzgerald and Kennedy assuming you were talking to Steven when in actuality you were talking to Marc.
"You show her, you're responsible when they come after her," Marc hissed, and Steven fell silent. "That's why I told you to hide it."
It? What was it? Steven looked from you to the DC's. "Nothing," Steven said, and Fitzgerald shook his head.
"Fake passport and a thief," Kennedy sighed. "Tsk tsk. I think you best come with us, son." She grabbed Steven's arm and you stared in disbelief as she tried to pull him out the door.
"Wait," he cried, "wait a minute. Can I say goodbye?" he asked and they scowled. "Y'know, like my one phone call, but... not."
"Make it quick," Kennedy said, her patience non-existent. Steven rushed over to you and gave you a hug.
"It's gonna be ok," you whispered to him and he nodded, staring at you worriedly.
"Come on Mr Grant," Fitzgerald ordered, grabbing his jacket, and marching him out the door.
"Right, yessir, I'm comin," Steven said. Kennedy looked at you sternly before slamming the door behind the three of them.
"What the fuck," you mouthed as you heard their footsteps disappearing. You glanced at the duffle bag from which Fitzgerald pulled the passport, and there was a lot more in there than you bargained for. Money – thousands – in all sorts of currencies, and a gun, as well as the passport. Which they didn't take with them. You frowned. Surely, they'd take it all as evidence. Something in the pit of your stomach was telling you there was something wrong. You'd learnt over the years not to ignore intuition. You zipped the bag shut, then opened it and took the gun – another gut feeling – but then went against your better judgement and put it back, zipped it shut again and threw it into the hiding hole from which you'd found the storage key.
Then you drummed your fingers against your chin. Whatever Steven had found, it was worse than the money and gun, and he'd hidden it somewhere, and in spite of the warning that it would get you killed, you decided to hunt for this mystery item. You opened the top draw to the bedside table – nothing out of the ordinary. From there, you made your way around the room, ending up at finally at the small box Steven kept by Gus' fish tank. It was full of the few personal trinkets he owned. You opened it and covered your mouth to stop a gasp.
There was a golden scarab inside, and when you picked it up, it floated from its base and settled itself pointing out the window. Steven had mentioned a scarab in what he assumed had been a dream. It wasn't a dream.
"What the hell," you muttered, and then as there was a loud bang on the door, you shoved the scarab in your pocket. The door opened before you answered and Fitzgerald walked back in.
"Can I help you?" you said confrontationally as he approached.
"Miss, we were just curious as to if you knew the whereabouts of the stolen item?" he asked, blocking the exit to your apartment.
"Afraid not," you said. "If it means anything, I think you've got the wrong person. Steven wouldn't steal anything."
"Doesn't mean anything," Fitzgerald said back blandly. "If you see it, let us know."
"What is it you lost?"
"A scarab."
You had an awful poker face, and the fear and panic that suddenly struck you was more than obvious to Fitzgerald.
"We're gonna need you to come with us too, miss...?" he posed the question and you narrowed your eyes.
"You should know my name," you said warily.
"Don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"Can I see a badge? Some identification or something?" you asked. He sighed and pulled out a badge from his pocket, flashing it at you for less than a second. You grabbed it before he could put it back and stared. For reasons you didn't care to disclose to him, you knew what a real badge looked like.
"This is fake," you said. "Who the hell are you?" You looked back up from the badge to a fist punching you directly in the face. You crumpled to the floor, eyes watering; tasting blood. You looked up at Fitzgerald and the last thing you saw was the bottom of his boot.
You woke up feeling motion sick and stirred slightly. You felt a hand on your head and nearly lashed out, but as you blinked crusted blood out of your eyes, you realised it was Steven. The two of you were in the back of a car, and he was stroking your hair absentmindedly, with no idea you were awake as your head rested on his lap.
"We've only gone and got ourselves a full-blown international fugitive," Kennedy said from the front passenger seat as she read through a tablet – Fitzgerald drove. You glanced at the window and Marc was in the reflection, looking back at Steven.
"It's not..." Steven trailed off, trying to defend himself. "It's a mistake. It's not me."
"Marc Spector was part of a team of mercenaries that hit a dig site in Egypt. Here's what they did to the archaeologists. Zip-tied and shot in the back of the head, execution-style." Steven stared at the reflection in absolute horror and so did you. Marc looked away shamefully, and that's when he noticed you were awake.
"That's dark man," Fitzgerald said.
"No, no, no, I didn't do that! That's not me," Steven cried, and you groaned at his movements.
"Of course, you didn't, Steven," Kennedy said.
"y/n, are you alright?" Marc asked and Steven glanced down at you then back up and cursed at him.
"No, you don't get to speak to 'er mate," he said. His voice went from angry to soft as he spoke to you. "You ok love?" He licked his thumb and wiped a smear of blood from your cheek. "Them bastards hurt you and I'll... I'll..."
"Zip tie and shoot us in the back of the head?" Kennedy asked and he fell quiet.
"Where are we going?" you groaned, shooting Marc a nasty glare.
"I thought we were going to the police station," Steven said.
Fitzgerald chuckled. "Now, why would you think that?" You and Steven shared a scared glance as Fitzgerald drove you to the back end of god knows where.
"Are you really ok love?" he asked as you rested your head against his shoulder.
"Dizzy," you admitted, "but a million times better than if you weren't here." His raised his hands – still handcuffed – and gently stroked your cheeks.
"I'd give you a hug if I could," he said and you smiled at the notion, nuzzling your head further into his neck as he turned his body to you.
"I know," you said, planting a quick kiss on his neck. You saw him blush but chose not to call him out on it, and as you continued to be driven, you focused on the familiarity of him to calm your nerves. Eventually, you pulled into a back alley, and Kennedy and Fitzgerald jumped out.
"Wait here," Kennedy said, and she slammed the door. You groaned; the headache you had was causing you to nearly see double, and you shifted, resting your head back on Steven's lap. That, however, was short lived as your passenger door opened an someone grabbed your legs, dragging you out of the car, kicking and screaming as Steven tried to stop it. But without the use of his hands he was helpless to do anything but scream, and you could see Marc dimly in the car door, telling you it was all gonna be ok.
You tried to keep your composure as you were marched along the cobblestones. You had to admit, it wasn't how you imagined a kidnapping. Children were playing football in the street, laughing, and singing, and the people around you smiled friendlily as you were led past them. You dug your heels into the ground and the two people holding you tugged you forward as you saw the man who'd confronted Steven at the museum.
"It's a pleasure to see you again y/n," he said. "Uh, let her go, she can walk," he told the people holding you and they took a step backwards. You rubbed your arms, knowing that if you tried to run away they'd catch you. Them, or the people surrounding you who all had the same scale tattoo. "My name is Arthur Harrow. I mean you no harm. I only have use for Steven."
"You've got the wrong man," you said, instantly protecting him.
"Perhaps. But it seems I can't speak to Marc Spector without Steven Grant being present." You stayed quiet and it seemed to please him, affirm perhaps his suspicions that Steven wasn't just Steven. "I understand you want to protect them," he said, "and I appreciate that. It proves that Marc Spector and Steven Grant are in fact different people."
"What do you want from them?"
"The scarab," he said. "You know of it?"
You figured Fitzgerald would have told him of your reaction, but you didn't have to tell the whole truth. The worry both Steven and Marc showed of the scarab falling into Harrow's hands was enough for you to never tell him that you had it.
"Steven told me he had it," you said truthfully, hoping the scarab shaped bulge in your back pocket wasn't obvious. "In the alps. That's all I know." Harrow studied your face for a minute, and then he held out his hands for yours. You lifted them up and he took them, resting the walking stick he used to walk on his forearms. You watched as the scales on his arm began to move as the stick swung back and forth, eventually settling on a dark green colour. You caught Harrow's eye as the two of you looked up. He looked at you with a kinder expression than he once had.
"There is kindness in you. You're welcome to leave," he decided, letting your hands go, but you shook your head.
"Not without Steven."
He nodded. "Very well. Please, help yourself to dinner, and I'll bring Steven in shortly."