Never Forget The Words Are Not Reality @spectrenightfell - Tumblr Blog

Summary: Steven’s never been this scared before. He knows Jake had been to see you, had the flashes of memories to prove it but now your gone, disappearing without a word. He can’t help it, how terrified and desperate he feels. What if Jake has done something to you, hurt you? It would all be Steven’s fault because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you from the psychotic murderer sharing the body.

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader / Marc Spector x fem!reader /Jake Lockley x fem!reader

Rating: M (mentions of sex ~ canon typical violence)

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first

When Steven comes back to the body he’s met with the insistent feeling that something is wrong. It takes a long few seconds for his sluggish mind to catch up to what’s going on, his ears ringing and eyesight fuzzy. When he does manage to concentrate Steven is happy to find that he’s still in the flat and that the place looks mostly intact though he thinks one of his many bookcases might have collapsed at some point. That’s about where his relief ends and the horror of reality creeps in.

He’s only in his underwear, body splattered with blood and the burn of alcohol still strong in the back of his throat. There’s dirt under his nails, his knuckles split and still oozing blood. His whole body’s shaking but Steven can’t tell if it’s from adrenaline or pain. Maybe it’s both. There’s a lot of pain, Steven feeling like he had been hit by a bus and it only gets worse when he manages to stumble over to the full length mirror and get a good look at the state the body has been left in.

He’s a mess. A mix of cuts and bruises that are scattered all across his body. He had a black eye, an angry looking gash on his cheek as well as a fat and swollen lip. There’s bruises around his neck, admittedly faint but clearly from someone’s hands having been wrapped around it and squeezing. There’s big angry looking bruises running down his side, a mix of deep dark purples and sickly yellows decorating his skin like some sort of weird art project. He feels like he could maybe have a cracked rib or two, maybe even a fracture in his radius but what he definitely had is a bandage wrapped around his left shoulder and right thigh, the white fabric stained red with blood. As soon as he notices each injury, pain begins to radiate out from that area, burning bright like he had been stabbed with a red hot poker.

Steven understandably panics, worried about what the hell had happened because “look at us Marc! We look like we’ve been in a death match. Oh bloody hell we have, haven’t we? He’s been in a sodding cage fight or something, probably killed a few people whilst he was at it. I tell you that man’s going to get us killed, bloody reckless idiot.” Steven had never awoken in such a state before, sure there had been a few bruises and maybe a little bit of blood to clean up but it was like Jake had gone out of his way to deliberately mess with the body as much as he could without killing them or rendering it useless. It was terrifying to think that he would do this to them let alone himself and for the life of him Steven can’t think what set him off because there had to be something. Things didn’t get this bad for no reason.

Marc’s the one who actually catalogs all their injuries, Steven more than happy to give the other man control to do so. He’s methodical about it, checking every inch he can and telling Steven what he thought had caused it and how bad it actually was. Most of it was superficial apart from the cracked ribs though Marc didn’t think anything else was broken, just bruised and aching. The most concerning thing though was what lies underneath the bandages.

It’s horrible watching Marc unravel the bandages, Steven’s heart in his throat as their skin is revealed one inch at a time. He can’t help but wince when Marc pulls the last bit away, the other man groaning as the tacky blood soaked bandages cling to his skin and pull at the wound below. Marc thinks they’re stab wounds, the cuts long and thin and most likely deep if he’s right. Jake had already stitched them closed, though Marc thought his handy work was “sloppy. Just look at this mess, it’s not even straight and the scars are definitely going to be massive thanks to this botch job.” It takes some convincing but eventually Marc reluctantly agrees not to unpick the mess and start again. Steven doesn’t really have the stomach for it and he’s sure that if he had to watch Marc unpick then stitch them back together that he’ll pass out and the darkness is the last place he wants to be right now.

Jake had been oh so kind as to leave a half drunk bottle of rum on the bedside table and Steven doesn’t even complain when Marc snatches it up before gingerly sitting down on the bed. They sit in silence, both of them sitting on the bed and staring straight ahead as they try to work through their thoughts. Well that’s what Steven’s doing anyway, he thinks Marc is just trying to drink himself into unconsciousness. It’s a problem, one that Steven was becoming more aware of but he had thought Marc was getting better, cutting back and exercising more. Maybe he had just gotten better at hiding it.

Marc’s drinking is something they will need to address but not now, there are other things that need Steven’s attention. There’s something niggling at the back of Steven’s mind, a whisper of something that he had thought was just a dream but now he wasn’t too sure if that was actually the case because it seemed far too clear to be that. It was like when he had first started fronting, when Marc was out on missions and Steven was convinced it had all been a dream when he had awoken in his bed safe and sound.

There had been snippets, little flashes of images and sensations that Steven had been convinced were just bits of jumbled up dreams and memories, playing out in an unintelligible mess that had meant nothing to him at the time. Now though Steven wasn’t too sure. What if they had been glimpses of Jake, of the things he had been up to whilst keeping Steven and Marc in the dark?

Steven breaks the heavy silence between them, turning to look at Marc as he speaks because he really does “think that I might have fronted for some of it mate,” and he needs to talk these jumbled thoughts through with someone before he starts fixating on all the wrong bits. Marc’s movements are slow and deliberate as he lowers the bottle to rest next to his thigh, turning his head to look directly at Steven with surprisingly sharp eyes considering how much he had drunk in such a short amount of time . He demands that Steven “tell me what he did. I want to know everything that bastard got up to.” Steven doesn’t hesitate to comply, trying to describe everything he can recall in as much detail as possible because there would probably be some small detail that would clue Marc into what the other alter was actually up to.

Some things he could remember seemed unimportant, just snippets of random moments that meant nothing without context. Steven could remember leather clad hands curled tightly around the steering wheel of a car as the London skyline passed him by far too quickly for Jake to have been sticking to the speed limit. He had been inside of a rather fancy but nondescript bathroom with a large arched window and the moon almost glowing in the night sky as it shined through the window and into him making him feel cold and judged. He had been in an alleyway, Steven surrounded by shadows as he watched two people fight at the other end under the only working street light.

Though it had only been a short few seconds he had spent in control and actually aware of the world around him it had been enough for him to be able to tell Marc the car had seemed rather fancy though it had smelt like stale smoke and their aftershave but almost like the bottle had been upended over them. He could tell Marc that he had been bare foot and freshly showered, the water still clinging to his skin and cooling quickly as he had stood glaring up at the moon like it had insulted him. Steven had been able to taste the alcohol on his tongue whilst he stood in the alleyway, felt his grip tightening on the handle of a knife and he could hear the sound of balled up fists slamming into flesh followed by grunts of pain and cry’s of anger.

It had been jarring and off putting, Steven mostly confused throughout the whole experience but there had been other moments that had stood out more than those and no more so than the woman Jake had taken to bed. This had felt different to the other times, like someone had grabbed hold of him and yanked him to the front. It had only been for a few seconds, Steven in the car one moment then suddenly not but it was long enough to burn the moment into his memory and leave a sickly feeling of unease in his gut.

His body had still been moving with Jake’s momentum, his grip tightening on the hips of the woman he was draped over to the point he had probably left bruises. The air had smelt like sweat and sex, his own loud moan echoing back at him mixed in with the woman’s breathy gasps. As soon as Steven’s mind had cleared he had jerked back, a shocked ‘fuck’ already falling from his lips but as soon as he had let go of the warm body beneath him Steven had been swallowed up by the darkness once more, Jake presumably taking back control and shoving Steven as far away as he could.

Steven hadn’t had sex in, well a long time and to suddenly find himself half way through what had appeared to be a rather passionate bout of love making had been quite the shock to the system. Marc had asked a few questions about that incident, wanting to know if he could recall any details like “what did the room look like? Was there any decorations or personal stuff that stood out? What about the woman? Did you get a good look at her face?” Unfortunately the answer to most of that had been no. He had caught a glimpse of an exposed brick wall and thick black curtains that had not quite been drawn closed but he hadn’t noticed anything else other than the bed had been large and soft, the sheets as black as the curtains.

As for the woman, well Steven hadn’t really gotten that good a look at her either. She had been on her hands and knees, her chest dropped forward and her face buried in the pillows and completely hidden from Simon’s view. She had a row of hieroglyphs down her spine, the black ink vibrant and looking like it had been painted on just hours before. He hadn’t had a chance to really see what they said, only just making out the glyphs for sun and what he thought was either servant or maybe slave before he was being yanked back into the darkness.

Marc had been disappointed by Steven’s lack of information but considering he had only been present for a handful of seconds he thought he had done pretty well getting as much information as he had. There was something that Steven hadn’t told Marc though, to afraid to give voice to his fears because then they might come true and he didn’t think he would be able to cope with everything that entailed.

Despite what some people think Steven isn’t stupid. He had recognised the smell of your perfume, the shape of the windows both in the bedroom and the bathroom he had found himself in after. The woman’s skin had been soft and warm under his callous hands, the familiar tingle running up his arms and making him feel warm all over. He wasn’t stupid, but he was blindly optimistic that he had it all wrong because if he hadn’t, if that fear was justified then that meant Steven had failed. He hadn’t been able to protect you from Jake and the other alter had been able to take advantage of your feelings for Steven and taken something from you that wasn’t his to have.

Steven did have his doubts, things that meant that maybe he had it all wrong and he clung onto them desperately. He knew you had tattoos, had seen the ones on your wrists several times since that first date but never once had you mentioned having another. Well you had hinted at it once but as you had never brought it up again Steven assumed it had only been meant as a tease, a way of getting him thinking about other parts of your body. Something he hadn’t needed help with. Then there had been the room, so dark and impersonal. True he had never been inside your home but he had seen the inside of your locker, the thing covered with photos of places you had been as well as a strip of photos of the two of you together, taken in a tiny booth at a shopping centre you had dragged him to just a few short months ago. The bland walls and black furnishings didn’t match the person he knew, not after you had insisted Steven’s own flat had been too dark and in need of some brightening up. And don’t even get him started on the position, so impersonal and a blatant display of power, most definitely not how Steven would make love to you and he hoped that you knew him enough by now to know that he would want to be face to face, pressed as close to you as he could get whilst wrapped in your arms. He would treat you right, gasping and moaning his love into every inch of skin he could reach. He most certainly wouldn’t go at it like some kind of animal, treating you like nothing more than an end to a means.

If he’s right though, if you and Jake had slept together how was Steven supposed to tell you that it hadn’t been him in your bed but an imposter wearing his face and taking advantage of your feelings for him? He knew that would be it for the two of you. Knew that as soon as he started telling you about Jake and Marc and what had happened that you would either chuck him out thinking he was loony or still kick him out but because he had lied to you and allowed that maniac to get his filthy murdering hands on you. It didn’t really matter how you would react to the truth, Steven would lose you anyway and it would be no one’s fault but his own. He should have told you when he originally wanted to. Should have just said yes to Marc and then gone and done it anyway. Maybe then he would have been able to prevent all this from happening.

He doesn’t get to wallow in the what ifs and self hate for long, Marc moving the conversation on and wanting to know if there were any more moments that stood out in Steven’s little mystery tour of Jake’s life. He was grateful for the slight change of subject, more than happy to push his seemingly never ending fears to the side and concentrate on something else. He should tell Marc, and he will tell Marco but just not yet. It’s clear to see he’s angry and agitated and Steven doesn’t want him to feel even worse knowing they had both failed to keep their promise to you and each other. Steven will talk to you first, find out if it’s true first before putting that kind of pain on the other man's shoulders.

Other than the possible trist with you there are only two other incidents that stand out to Steven. The first one was presumably from where the black eye came from, Steven only conscious to feel someone’s fist collide with his face and send him stumbling to the dirty concrete below. He had seen enough to know he had been surrounded by a group of men dressed like they were from an early 2000’s rap video, the bright glare of headlights from the cars parked around them making it impossible for Steven to get a good look at any of their faces. Marc said it sounded like Jake had “gotten into a fucking fist fight with a bunch of street scum. He’s lucky we only got stabbed twice and no where important at that.” Steven thought it was best not to point out that everywhere on their shared body was an important place that shouldn’t be stabbed, not wanting to agitate Marc any more than he already was and risk him pulling their stitches or causing any more of their many bruises and cuts to start hurting again.

The second moment was probably the most important because for the first time Steven actually got to see what Jake looked like. It had been in a bar, one that looked like it had seen better days and reeking of stale cigarette smoke and the unpleasant mix of alcohol that had probably been spilt over the floor and never cleaned up. Steven’s face and hands had ached, his grip tight on the glass of something dark and strong smelling but all of that had drifted to the background because staring back at him from the grubby mirror behind the bar was Jake, looking like hell and ready to kill anyone who pointed it out.

It had been a shock, Steven’s face scrunched up at the horrible taste in his mouth only to wince when it made the right side of his face throb with pain. He had looked up to get the bartender's attention, hoping to get some water and maybe some ice to dull the swelling. Instead he had come face to face with a clenched jaw and dark eyes full of anger and what quite possibly could have been hate. They had stared at each other for a long few minutes, Steven wide eyed and feeling like a deer in headlights whilst Jake’s glare had just got harder and meaner. Steven had thought Marc grumpy and mean looking but Jake was ten times worse, looking damn right terrifying and leaving Steven feeling like he was just seconds away from getting his teeth kicked in.

Their little stare off ended as quickly as it had started, Jake’s lips curling up into a vicious smirk as he tipped the front of his cap forward. It had felt like a threat, Jake just that terrifying that he didn’t even need words to make Steven fear for his safety. Now Steven was sure it had been Jake’s way of taunting Steven. He had looked frustratingly smug and he knew why, or at least suspected he did. Though Jake had been practically nonexistent for the last couple of weeks the bastard had probably been listening in, spying on him and Marc to find even the slightest weakness and he had found it in you. You were Steven’s weak spot and though Marc might not admit to it Steven knew that you were his as well, just from the way he had been with you when you had turned up at the flat, your eyes full of anger and tears. Jake had taken advantage of that, exploited Steven’s relationship with you and had left Steven holding the broken prices and wondering how the hell he was ever going to put them back together again.

Steven hadn’t had the time to do or say anything at the bar, Jake’s eyes flickering to something behind Steven and his smug smirk falling into a scowl that would probably strike fear into anyone who was unfortunate to see it. A hand had landed on Steven’s shoulder, their fingers digging in but the world had gone dark before he could turn and see who it was. The next thing he knew Steven was coming to in the flat, looking like he had been hit by a bus and feeling like it too. Steven had given Marc the time to think about everything had said, the two of them sat in silence though Steven wasn’t still, fidgeting restlessly as he waited for the other man to say something.

Marc thought it was strange that Jake was being so careless all of a sudden and Steven had to agree. Jake had been a mystery since they had found out about him back in Cairo, it was only in the last couple of months that he had started to make his presence felt and even then he hadn’t actually introduced himself. He had just been this dark looming threat in the corner of their minds, shrouded in shadows and blood but now Steven had seen him, had been left to front in moments he was clearly not supposed to be and it was worrying, just like it had been when it happened with Marc. Something had to have happened to set Jake off but what? For Marc it had been his mum’s death, his abuser finally gone from his life for good and the mix of emotions that had brought with it. With Jake though Steven didn’t know anything about his life to even start speculating about what could upset a man like Jake Lockley so much that he wouldn’t be able to keep grip on his control over Steven and Marc.

There wasn’t much they could do right now, the body was in to much of a state for them to be moving around so freely but neither of them particularly wanting to risk sleep right now, just in case Jake popped up again to take the body and actually finish the job this time and put them in the hospital. They had just sat for a while, Marc slowly emptying the bottle of rum whilst Steven had let his head fall back to rest against the shelves behind him, his eyes closing as he tried to lose himself to the sounds of the world around him.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that but when he heard his neighbours door slam and her kids start yelling as they ran down the hallway Steven knew it was about the time he should be getting ready for work. When he told Marc he had been quick to tell Steven that if “you think for one second I’m getting out of this bed this side of the weekend then you really are an idiot.” Steven had been quick to inform Marc that had been planning on calling in sick because he wasn’t “bloody daft. I ain’t planning on going anywhere any time soon mate.” There had been a few grumbled exchanges of light insults but soon enough Steve had found himself leaning over to grab his phone off the bedside table and Marc back in the mirror.

It had hurt, Steven’s bruised ribs and aching shoulder protesting the movement but he had clenched his jaw and pushed forward until he could reach his phone, slumping back in the bed once his hand had curled around it. The first thing Steven noticed were the excessive amount of miss calls and unread texts, not only from you but Donna and the museum as well. The second thing was the date. A week. A week had passed since you had walked out his flat and the world had gone dark.

Steven just stared at his phone, his brain struggling to comprehend what he was seeing because it couldn’t be right. Sure Jake had taken the body for a day or two here and there but it had always been on days when Steven or Marc didn’t have anything to do, it was horrible as all hell to go through but it had still been oddly considerate of the man. This though, this was a complete take over of their lives, a blatant disregard of their shared body and the lives they lead outside of one another. Oh bloody hell, a week? No wonder he had over a hundred missed calls and texts.

Steven was quick to unlock the phone, desperate to call you back and hoping you hadn’t reported him missing to the police whilst Jake had been running around and committing god knows how many crimes. Marc had wanted to know what was wrong, yelling Steven’s name and demanding that he “tell me what is going on right now Steven or I swear to god I won't let you have the body any more.” It was an empty threat, they both knew that so Steven had no issue ignoring the other man in favour of talking to you. Except he didn’t talk to you. Your phone just went straight to your answer machine, not even ringing once before the automated voice was telling Steven to leave a message after the tone.

Steven had never known you to have your phone off, not even when it was sitting in your locker at work and the fact that it was now had his gut twisting with nerves. He left a message, words rushed as he apologised because he was “so sorry love. I’m going to explain everything, I promise I just need you to call me back yeah? As soon as you get this, please.” Marc’s annoyed scowl softens slightly when he hears Steven’s pleading, silently watching as Steven’s rambles into your answer machine but as soon as he hangs up Marc demands to know what happens, his voice low and calm and oh so dangerous sounding that Steven has no choice but to tell him everything.

He still leaves out the part about you and Jake possibly having slept together, the words getting stuck in his throat and making him feel sick. So instead he tells Marc that there had been a flash of consciousness, Steven still in Jake's car and looking up at your building. Just a flash, a moment in time but it was enough to have Steven panicking, afraid that Jake had done something to you and now you weren’t answering your phone, leaving Steven feeling like he had swallowed a ball of lead that was now sitting heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach.

Marc was understandably angry that Steven had kept things from him. Steven had been expecting that, he was angry at himself after all but what he hadn’t expected was the sharp and slightly painful tug of Marc forcibly taking back the body. It had been a fast and aggressive switch, Steven’s head snapping up to look at Marc with a mix of shock and hurt. Marc didn’t even look at him as he got out the bed, jaw gritted against the pain. Confused and alarmed, Steven had called out, trying to hide his own wince as he quickly scrambled out the bed to watch Marc tearing through their shared wardrobe. Still he hadn’t looked at Steven as he got dressed, snapping over his shoulder instead. “What does it look like I’m doing? One of us has got to sort this shit show out and it sure as hell ain’t going to be you.”

Marc’s words hurt. Steven had made a right mess of things and sure he wasn’t the only one to blame, Marc having been responsible for keeping you in the dark about his mental state but he had been the one who had gone along with it. He had been the one to push you away and pull you back in, mucking you around and making you worry and feel neglected. Steven had been an idiot and now you were the one paying for his mistakes. He hadn’t said another word, the silence heavy and full of tension as Marc moved around the flat, clearly in pain but fighting against it as he grabbed their phone, keys and wallet before striding out the flat and slamming the door behind him.

They weren’t in any condition to walk let alone run to yours. Marc had managed to grab a taxi just as it was dropping someone off, sliding into the back seat before the driver could even agree to take him though considering how messed up they looked the poor man probably thought it was in his best interests to just go along with the obviously irate man. It had taken too long to get there even with the driver's insistence that he was taking the quickest route when Marc had angrily snapped “what is taking so long? We should have been there by now.” The morning traffic was heavy though and it took a good ten to fifteen minutes longer than it should have to get to your flat. The longer they were in the car though the more agitated Marc became. He tried calling you several more times, his knee jumping and mumbling “come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up.” No matter how often he called you or how much he begged you to pick up you never did, every call going through to your answering machine.

He only just about remembered to pay the man, shoving a handful of notes at him before practically jumping out the car and running up to your building. It’s a miracle that they even get in the building, someone coming out as Marc rushes up the steps and he slips in quickly before the door can close properly. It’s only then does Marc stop, cursing under his breath and pressing down on his leg and the probably pulled stitches underneath. Steven watched from the glass in the building's door as Marc leaned against the wall, one hand pressed flat against the brick and his head tipped forward to rest next to it. He’s in pain, probably bleeding from several places but he still says no when Steven asks him to “swap with me Marc. You need the rest.” Steven huffs and rants, trying to urge Marc to let him take control but all he does is snap at Steven to shut up, trying to act like he’s fine but Steven knows he’s not.

Before he can start properly begging Marc though he pushes away from the wall with a grunt, his shoulders back and face set in a grim mask of determination as he strode purposely towards the lift. Steven doesn’t ask how Marc knows what floor and flat you live at, just watches him from the highly polished metal and glass inside the lift and tries to figure out what he’s more worried about, you or that Marc’s going to pass out before he even makes it two steps out of the lift.

He wants to yell, to snap and tell Marc that he would be no good to you if he passes out from blood loss and pain but then Steven reminds himself that though Marc’s bleeding and in pain he’s probably been through worse. A lot worse. Though he’s stubborn and reckless and honestly a little bit self destructive Marc knows his limits, knows how far he can push himself before he gets into serious danger. Steven trusts him with this, with you because as much as the other man might deny it Steven knows he likes you, might even love you if he gave himself the chance to actually feel something instead of shutting down. Marc’s priority is you and keeping you safe, from Jake and the scumbags of the city as well as himself and the danger he poses to yours and Steven’s relationship. Bloody idiot he is but Steven knows his heart is in the right place even if Marc doesn’t.

As soon as the lift dings Marcs out the door, shoulders back and eyes determinedly set on the door at the end of the corridor. There’s only two doors, one on the left and one on the right, made from heavy duty wood and metal from the looks of it with a slight industrial feel to it. Steven has a split second to wonder exactly how rich you are and how you got that way before Marc’s pounding on the door, the dull thud surprisingly loud in the otherwise silent hallway.

Steven watches from the number plate on the door opposite, holding his breath when Marc’s fist stills. The seconds drag on, the silence heavy as they wait for you to answer. With every passing second Steven’s fear gets worse, his panic spiking drastically as your door remains closed. Marc knocks again, his closed fist banging into the door with such force Steven worries he might damage the already bruised and bloody hand. Steven can’t really blame him though, the other man’s desperation leaking into his voice as he yells your name in between the frantic and demanding knocking.

Still your door remains closed and Steven’s about to suggest they break in when the lift dings from the other end of the corridor and both their heads snap in the direction, hoping that it’s you that gets off all wide eyed and surprised to see him. It’s a hope Steven grasps onto tightly as the doors slide open in slow motion, his heart thundering away in his chest and sucking in a deep breath as he waits to see who's inside. Marc’s just as bad, his dark eyes fixed on the lift with such a sharp intensity that it reminded Steven of some kind of bird of prey, watching the little wood mouse and waiting to strike. Finally the doors open and Steven lets out the breath he had been holding, disappointment now mixing with his fear.

It’s just some guy, maybe in his forties and dressed like he’s been to the gym. Marc’s shoulders slump, his eyes darting down to the floor. He looks lost, like he has no clue what to do or how to even start attempting to fix it. He looks how Steven feels, so lost and helpless as he gives into the fear that something really has happened to you. That Jake had slipped into your home looking like Steven and taking advantage of your love for him only to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze the life right out of you.

It’s a horrible thought, sending a blade of ice right through his heart and a cold fear spreading through every inch of him. No. Not possible. As vicious and barbaric as Jake was, he had no reason to hurt you like that. Steven hadn’t done anything to him. He hadn’t interfered with the other alters life or gotten in the way of his murdering ways. There’s no reason, no reason at all for the other man to have hurt you but then there hadn’t been a reason for Jake to crawl into your bed and spend the night between your legs. There was no reason for anything Jake had done and yet he had so why would now be any different?

Steven calls out Marc’s name, his voice strangled and full of desperation. Steven needs to see you, needs to know you’re ok or he’ll crumble quicker than a sandcastle caught in the path of the incoming tide. The call of his name seems to jerk Marc out of his own spiralling mind, his head snapping up and his eyes refocusing. He turns back to the door, banging on it once more and calling out your name along with a demand that you “open this door right now or I’m calling the cops.”

They probably should call the police but how would they even begin to explain what they thought had happened? They would end up locked in the loony bin with Harrow and Steven wouldn’t know what had happened to you until the old bill turned up to arrest him. No. Steven would break the door down his bloody self if he had to and then beg for your forgiveness when all was said and done. It was just as Steven was telling Marc to break it down that the man who had gotten off the lift spoke, his voice hesitant and looking a little frightened of Marc whilst trying to keep as far away from him as possible.

Not here.

You’re not here.

Marc’s aggressive, getting in the other man’s personal space and shoving him into the wall as he demands to know what the man is talking about. For once Steven doesn’t protest the unneeded aggression, listening intently as the man stutters and stumbles over his words. You had left a couple of hours ago, at the same time as you always did on a Saturday with a bag slung over your shoulder and dressed relatively smartly.

Marc takes a moment to process the words and then he’s back to demanding, wanting to know specific times, the direction you had gone in, if you had seemed ok, if you had spoken to anyone. He barely gives the man time to answer before moving onto his next question but it becomes clear pretty quickly that he had only seen you getting into the lift, ignoring his morning greeting where you would normally be the first to say hello.

Marc doesn’t seem to notice letting the guy go, his brows furrowed and a deep frown tugging his lips down. The man makes a quick escape, getting through his door and slamming it behind him, the sound of the lock sliding into place loud even through the thick wooden door. They probably only had a couple of minutes until he called the police, reporting them and the assault. Steven's mind was focused elsewhere though, too consumed with you to think about anything else.

His mind's racing, trying to figure out where you would have gone. The bloke said you had seemed fine just a little off and that could be expected if you thought Steven had slept with you then vanished off the face of the earth. It was a minor miracle, knowing that you were ok but your clothes could have been hiding a multitude of things that Jake might have done to you. Especially your work ones that you had purposely chosen to hide your tattoos. The realisation seemed to hit Steven and Marc at the same time, their heads snapping up and looking at one another as the said “museum!” at the same time.

The museum. How could Steven be so stupid to not have considered your place of work. Saturdays were part of your contract and you had never missed a tour before so of course you would be there. He would have hit himself if it weren’t for the fact that the body was already messed up and that it was Marc in control. It should have been the first place Steven thought to look and yet he had been so panicked he hadn’t stopped long enough to really think about the time and date. They had wasted time coming to your flat when they could have already been at the museum and sure that you were safe.

Marc was quick to make his way back down the hallway, jabbing impatiently at the call button as they waited. As soon as they were in he was pressing the close door button, leaning back against the glass as soon as the doors were closed. He looked exhausted and Steven wasn’t sure if Marc would be able to make it out of the building let alone all the way to the museum. So Steven took a deep breath and reached out for the other man, pressing forward as he urged Marc back. He went surprisingly willingly, the transition smooth and effortless, over within a blink of an eye.

Steven groaned when he registered how much pain the body was in, his hands quickly going to his leg and clamping down on the now bleeding stab wound. Marc had sounded genuinely concerned when he had asked if Steven was ok, nervously darting his eyes between Steven’s face and where his his hands were still wrapped tightly around his leg. Steven brushed his concerns off, waving his blood stained hand dismissively and forcing out that he was “fine mate. Don’t worry abou’ it. Just need a second yeah and then I’ll be as right as rain.”

It did take Steven a few minutes to compose himself, a constant mantra in his head that he needed to get to you and make sure you were safe. With a deep breath and a clenched jaw Steven had wiped his bloody hand on his thankfully dark trousers. He was moving slower than Marc had and the other man had spent the whole time in the lift trying to convince Steven to swap back but he didn’t force it, didn’t take control from Steven. He just kept asking for it, insisting that Steven didn’t “have to go through this. You're not used to it Steven, I am. Just give me back the body and I’ll get us there, then you can have it back as soon as we are at the museum. I swear I will Steven, just, give it back yeah? You don’t need to go through this.”

He sounded genuinely concerned but no matter how much it hurt, Steven was about to give the body back. It broke his heart knowing Marc was so used to this kind of pain. Sure Steven had known that but it still left him feeling like shit. He was supposed to protect Marc, it was the whole reason he existed and yet he hadn’t been able to protect him from things like this. Hadn’t been allowed to because Marc was always trying to keep Steven safe, sheltered from the horrors of the would. Guess that hadn’t really worked out for either of them.

It was more than just his guilt over Marc’s awful life though. This was all Steven’s fault and he felt like this was his punishment to bear, whatever gods were up there deciding that Steven should go through this for lying to you and letting you end up in danger. He should have just been honest with you from the start and especially after Jake’s first threat and the knowledge that he had known where you lived and how easy it would be for him to get to you. Steven should have done a lot of things differently over the last couple of months and there were a lot of decisions he had regretted but he would make them right. As soon as he had made sure you were ok he would spend the rest of his life making it up to you, literally grovelling for your forgiveness if he had to. So Steven clenched his fists and jaw against the pain and told Marc that he was fine, “I got this yeah. You don’t need to worry,” and by the time he was stepping out of your building Marc had gone blissfully silent and Steven made his way towards the museum as quickly as he could.

The museum wasn't that far away and instead of wasting time looking for a taxi Steven headed straight for the nearest tube station. He was hobbling by the time he gets there, his leg burning like he’d been stabbed with a red hot poker but he still manages to make it through the gate, somehow not dropping his Oyster card as he slaps it down and takes off as quickly as he can for the platform. His small bit of luck continues when he gets down there because a trains just pulling in and he even manages to snag a seat, slumping down and groaning loudly at having been able to take the weight off his injured leg. He knows people are watching him, can feel their eyes on him but he doesn’t care. There’s only one thing on his mind and it’s you. The world could be ending around him and he still wouldn’t care, to desperate to get to you and make sure your ok.

As soon as the train pulls into Tottenham Court station, Steven's up and out of his seat, the first one to the door and moving as quickly as he can towards the exit. Marc had been suspiciously quiet the whole time, something that Steven had been grateful for at the time but now he was starting to get a little worried about the man’s silence. He wasn’t even demanding that Steven move quicker, that he had to be a man and all that rubbish and pushed past the pain. As the escalator goes up Steven chances a glance towards the many framed posters along the wall, looking for Marc’s faint image in the glass. He still looked angry, his jaw still set and shoulders tense as he looked forward. To anyone else, if they could see him that was, Marc would look standoffish and cold but not to Steven. He knew Marc well enough by now to notice the impatient way he was tapping his fingers against the handrail, to see the little twitch in his jaw as he clenched his teeth tighter, to notice the growing worry and desperation in his dark angry eyes. Marc was one unnecessary delay away from punching someone and Steven really didn’t want to have to add resisting arrest to today's list of problems.

It should have only been about a ten minute walk from the station to the museum on any normal day but today wasn’t normal and Steven was seriously starting to feel the pain from the beating Jake had taken. His leg was damm right throbbing now, slowing down his movements and Steven was sure he could feel fresh blood running down his leg and soaking into the dark fabric of his trousers. By the time he makes it to the museum Steven’s exhausted, the pain almost too much and making him feel like he’s either going to be sick or pass out, maybe even both. He has to take a moment before going in, leaning back against the cool stone wall and groaning loudly as his grips at his leg, his thumbs digging in against the wet spot on his leg.

It’s then that Marc decides to break his silence, looking at him from a puddle and urging Steven to “come on, you're almost there. Just another couple of minutes and then we can go home and rest. We just gotta go in there and find out she’s ok, we can grovel for her forgiveness later just…Come on Steven, all we’ve gotta do is see her, please.” Marc’s pleading tugs painfully at Steven’s heart, the fact that the other man was talking like he was the one dating you and not Steven seemingly going unnoticed. He was right though, just a few more steps and they would find you safe and sound, all ready to head off with your first tour group of the day and maybe if he was lucky, relieved to see Steven in one piece after a whole week of radio silence. But honestly he thought he would be lucky if you didn’t yell at him and tell him you never wanted to see him again.

J.B was behind the security station, his eyes briefly flicking up at Steven when he stumbled into the desk before dropping his gaze back down to his phone only to do a double take when he realised who it was slumped over his counter. There had been a lot of pointless back and forth, J.B going from wanting to know what had happened and informing him that he was “in a heap of trouble, especially turning up looking like that.” Steven had tried to be polite, to get him to listen but he talked right over Steven like he hadn’t even uttered a word.

His outburst was a long time coming and Steven was genuinely surprised it hadn’t happened before. He had gotten used to how people treated him but not now, not when it was keeping him from you. His loud cry of “will you shut up,” echoed back at him, J.B’s voice seeming to disappear as he locked at Steven with a mix of shock and a little fear. Before the man could regain his composure and throw Steven out he barrelled on, demanding to know where in the museum you were.

The man’s mumbled reply that he couldn’t do that without having even turned to look at the monitors behind him had been met with even more hostility, Steven knowing full well that he could because “there’s over a hundred bloody cameras in this place J.B so don’t tell me you can’t. Now. Find. Her.” Steven wasn’t really sure if that had been him or Marc talking, maybe a mix of both because if it had just been Marc J.B would probably be supporting his own black eyes and a broken nose by now. He looks nervous, eyeing Steven wearily and taking a slight step back like that’s going to save him from being shoved out the way when Marc jumps over the counter and starts looking over the multiple screens himself. Steven’s about ready to let Marc front when J.B informs Steven that he can’t look for you because you weren’t at work today.

Steven’s anger drains away so quickly it leaves him feeling cold. That can’t be right, can’t be because “it’s a poxy Saturday morning J.B, of course she’s bloody well here.” You always worked Saturday’s, ten till two and then you would get lunch at Victoria House before heading home. It was your routine, one Steven knew off by heart and not once in the last few months had you changed it. You should be here and the only reason Steven could think that you wouldn’t be was that something had happened to you.

Not here. You're not here. No. Not possible. It can’t be. You were supposed to be here, meant to be effortlessly gliding through the museum halls for Steven to find, safe and sound and right there but you're not. Steven had been pinning all his hope on finding you here, angry and upset sure but safe, none the wiser that Jake Lockley had been the one to have his bloody hands all over you and not Steven. But that’s all gone now, that last little glimmer of hope gone with just a few simple words. No here. You're not here but then where were you?

Steven’s spiralling, his thoughts getting away from him as his panic and fear sky rockets. Gone. You're gone and Steven doesn’t know where or how to even begin trying to find you. He doesn’t know if you're ok, if Jake had said or done something to hurt you or drive you away. Steven didn’t know and that in itself was terrifying because it allowed his imagination to run wild and nothing it came up with wasn’t good. He was pulled from his increasingly bloody and violent thoughts by a loud and aggressive “OI!” that echoed through the large and open room.

Steven’s head snapped up from where he had buried it in his hand’s his eyes wide and desperate as he looked around. Donna was storming across the room, looking pissed off and ready to start yelling at him but Steven had lost any of his previous fight, unable to care about what the other women had to say. It wasn’t pretty. Donna yelled at him about his sudden disappearance without so much as a text to say he wouldn’t be in. Apparently you had covered for him, saying he was really sick and unable to phone due to his constant vomiting. Donna hadn’t believed you and she had been right to do so considering he had turned up at the museum “looking like you’ve been on a bloody week long bender and gotten your arse handed to you by Tyson Fury. Look at you, you’re a bloody mess. No wonder she’s done a runner. Probably wanted to get as far away from you as possible.”

That got Steven’s attention.

He demanded to know what she had meant about you doing a runner, cutting her off as she had tried to continue to belittle Steven’s existence. She had seemed nervous, eyes dating to J.B when Steven had gotten in close and continued to insist that she tell him “if you know something Donner then you tell me right now or I swear I’ll report you for bullying and harassment, so help me god I will and then we will see whose jobless.” She’s taken a back by Steven’s outburst but he doesn’t care anymore. She knows something and she wasn’t telling him. Steve would bloody report her directly to Hartwig Fischer if he had to, as long as it got him what he wanted. The threat seemed to work but what Donna said just made him even more confused.

You had turned up that morning but not to work, informing your boss that you needed some time off with immediate effect due to a family emergency out in the states. Your request had been granted and you had left for the airport straight away, promising that you should be back in a week or two depending on how things went. Steven didn’t understand because you didn’t have any family, at least that was what you had told him anyway but here you were, having run off to bloody America because something had happened with your family whose existence was questionable at best and suspicious at worst.

His confusion had seemed to give Donna her confidence back and she had been quick to demand Steven leave before she called the police. Steven hadn’t even protested and J.B led him out of the building, telling him that he needed help and that he probably shouldn’t come back because he was most likely going to get fired anyway. Steven had gotten into a taxi, with no clue who had gotten it and mindlessly giving his address to the concerned looking driver who had suggested they go to the hospital instead. Steven wasn’t sure of the conversation that came after but at some point he had started to recognise the streets so he had known that they were heading back towards his flat and not the nearest A&E. He had just sat there in silence looking blankly ahead of him at the back of the driver's headrest, trying to make some sort of sense of what was happening.

It didn’t make sense though. No matter what way he looked at it, nothing about your sudden departure to America made sense. Sure you had been there a time or two, had told him a few stories about various museums and private collectors you had worked for but there had never been anything or anyone in your stories that would suggest that you had left anything behind that you cared about enough to ever need to rush back to. Now that he was thinking about it, Steven knew a lot about the places you had been and the people you had worked for but apart from a few scraps of information he didn’t really know much about you or your past, Marc’s background check only having turned up basic information that Steven probably could have gotten from googling you.

The amount of moving around you did should have been suspicious from the start but Steven had been so taken with you that he hadn’t stopped to consider why you were constantly moving from one place to another. Maybe the fact that he had been so drawn to you from the start, already halfway in love with you before the two of you had even officially met, should have been another red flag. There was so much that he should have been questioning. Like the fact that you would never invite him to your flat, always insisting you go to his, like you didn’t want him to know where you lived. Or that you didn’t seem to care that Steven just disappeared for three days a week without any kind of explanation, something that most people would have been suspicious and unhappy about.

Steven knew that you liked museums and art galleries. That you liked to eat out and try new places but also enjoyed cozy nights in with a home cooked meal and a documentary playing on the telly. He knew that you liked it when he brought you flowers and that you were particular about how you took your tea and that you enjoyed your job and that your smile could rival the sun. He knew a lot about the person you were but as Steven sat in the car, his whole body throbbing with pain he came to sudden realisation that he didn’t really know you and maybe, you just weren’t the person he had thought you were.

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