You felt a sharp pain in your stomach.
You looked down.
There was a knife inside you, and a stranger grasping the handle.
Nothing could have prepared you for the pain. You'd read books, watched movies, but the inability to even scream as the wind was knocked out of you was paralyzingly shocking. "I..." you gasped, and clutched onto the man's arm to stay standing, but he tore himself from your grip and you dropped to your knees, the knife sticking out of you. The man, piercing blue eyes and a vice-like grip, glared at you.
"Where is Marc Spector," he said, voice thick and gruff. You pressed your hands to the wound, blood dripping through your fingers. You had no clue what was going on. It's like you'd suddenly drunk a litre of vodka. The world span, and you barely knew who you were.
"Who..." you grimaced, and the man grabbed your hair, yanking your head up towards him.
"Where. Is. Marc. Spector."
"I don't know," you wept. "I don't--"
"--Hey y/n, we're back," Marc called as he opened the front door, and you managed a hellish scream to warn him as the stranger ran at him. Despite being unprotected by Khonshu, Marc dodged the attackers first blow and threw a punch that landed almost perfectly. The man dropped to the floor with a groan. He wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't standing, and Marc stared at him like he'd seen a ghost. You let out a weak groan, and Marc snapped out of the trance like state he was in.
"y/n," he breathed, rushing to your side. He dropped to his knees.
"Oh my god love," Steven murmured.
"I'm so sorry," Marc cried. "I didn't know he'd.... you've gotta run. Get out of here."
"I can't -- I... it hurts," you whimpered and he shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks.
"I know, baby girl, I know," he said. "Listen, I'm gonna pull this out, and there's gonna be a lot of blood. You need to keep pressure and run."
"I can't."
"You can," he said, "you've got to." Wrapping his hands around the handle. "He's here for me which means you're not safe around me. You gotta get as far away as possible."
"Who?... Marc, please I-" and then he pulled it out and you screamed, and he pressed your hands to the wound as blood seeped out of it. The anguish on his face was immeasurable as he pushed his arm under yours.
"I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry, I know it hurts but you gotta go," he said, and he hauled you up. Your stomach was burning as he urged you towards the door, and then he yelled out, a guttural, deep, yell. Grabbing a towel from the back of a chair and clutching it to your stomach, you looked back at him. The man was on his feet, hands around Marc's neck.
"Where do you think you're going?" he said, the look in his eyes one of pure hatred.
"Leave him alone," you threatened, grabbing a letter opener from the desk and wielding it shakily as you staggered forward.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill him. That would be too kind. I'm going to kill you."
As the imposter let Marc drop to the floor, Steven, barely conscious, yelled through the reflection. "Run!"
You did as you were told, flinging open the door and sprinting down the corridor, thumbing the elevator button until it arrived. You saw the man running at you but the door shut before he could reach you, and his yells echoed throughout the halls of the building. When you got to the ground floor, you fled past the broom seller who's cries of 'are you alright' fell on deaf ears. It was late, and there weren't many people about, so your choices had gone from blending in to losing him in the maze of London streets. A bang echoed from behind you and the man – another avatar? One of Ammit's followers? – flung open the door to the building and gave chase. Easily faster than you but not as well versed in navigating a city such as London, you managed to avoid capture at first by sneaking through the shadowed alleyways. But as you continued to bleed, you felt more and more lightheaded until you yourself couldn't remember where abouts you were, and you headed to the lighter streets for guidance.
The man saw you from a hundred yards away and you ran, crying out in pain at the stab wound. You were slowing; footsteps slipping on the cobblestones. You were headed towards the Thames, you hoped anyways, and as you glanced upwards, you saw Khonshu watching you from the rooftops.
"Konshu!" you yelled; voice hoarse. "Do something."
"I'm so sorry little worm," he said, and you scowled at what he now used as a term of endearment. "I cannot do anything without you or Marc being my avatar."
Like that was gonna happen.
"Did you know?"
"Know what?"
"Don't play dumb!" you yelled, seeming crazy to the few passers-by. Khonshu didn't speak and you took that as a yes. "Asshole."
"Raoul Bushman," he said.
"Who?"
"The man that nearly killed Marc Spector."
Anger kept you on your feet but Raoul's speed increased and you slipped into another alleyway, hoping to lose him in the darkness. Who were you kidding; he hadn't mentioned his name, but Marc had told you about the fellow mercenary who worked with him and then betrayed and nearly killed him. There was no talking. Then the worst possible scenario occurred. You were on the river bank, at a complete dead end. No building to climb, no fence to vault. You could barely see straight as you dropped to the floor behind a set of bins.
It was a hallucination that gave you some sort of peace as you imagined seeing Steven in the reflection. "Get up love, please," he urged, his face in a shop window.
"Come on baby, you have to keep going," Marc said. "We can't lose you."
"I'm..." you trailed off as your hand left your stomach, blood soaking up your shirt. "I'm so tired," you mumbled. You watched as Raoul appeared, his run slowly to a smug walk as he saw you, cornered and unable to escape. You cried out as he grabbed your collar, dragging you along the cobbles and down towards the river. You yelled at him to stop; threats and curses exchanged as he paid no attention to them, nor the angered winds created by Khonshu who watched on, unable to help. By the time you were at the river bed, you were all but dead, but he wanted to make sure.
"Goodbye y/n," he said, and he held your head beneath the water. You thrashed about, scrabbling at his sturdy hands. You never thought you'd die at the body of the one's you loved. But then you remembered what Marc had taught you. Use your enemies end goal against them. So, you stopped moving, letting yourself drift lifelessly in the water, hoping that Raoul would believe your death. You were certainly close. Your lungs were burning as your body begged for breath, and just as you thought you'd have to give up the ruse, Raoul removed his hand from your throat and pushed you off into the Thames. Your head floated above the surface and you took as deep a breath as you dared, discreetly moving your hand to your stomach.
You weren't sure if it was just the darkness of night or your vision was just that hazy, but you struggled to see Raoul as he stalked off, confident that you were dead. Once he was out of sight, and then another minute following, you swum to shore, lying on the wet sand in a great deal of pain, panting heavily. You had no dry cloth to keep your wound from bleeding, and so, as a last resort, dug your fingers into the wound with a scream to stem the flow. You lay on the shore for God knows how long, waiting for the world to stop spinning around you. When it did, you tentatively got to your feet, each step absolute agony.
"Khonshu," you called weakly, dropping to a knee a few hundred metres from the shoreline. You hoped the God would hear your prayers, and sure enough, as the seconds ticked by, you felt a shadow over you.
"You're clever, little worm, but I fear for you," Khonshu said. "You're walking the line of life and death like a tightrope."
"Help me Khonshu," you begged, reaching an arm out to him.
"Without you or Marc as my avatar, my only offer of consolation is words," he said gruffly. You dropped your head and the rest of your body followed. The cobbles were cold.
"You healed me last time."
"Marc was still my avatar, just a dead one."
"Can you do me a favour then," you asked weakly. He slid off the car on which he was sat and crouched by your side.
"What is it you ask of me?"
"Steven and Marc... Make sure they know it's not their fault," you said. "They'll blame themselves. I forgive them... and I love them."
Khonshu bowed his head, moonlight streaming through the head of his cane.
"I will do that, little worm," he promised. "Give Taweret my regards." You closed your eyes, a brief smile spreading across your face. "May Osiris grant you safe passage across the Duat and into the field of reeds."
"Thanks... pigeon," you said, and you could have sworn the stern God chuckled. Then, your eyes closed, and you awaited your fate.
...
"Hi sweetheart," you heard a voice say. "It's not your time yet."