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Jake's whole life was a waiting game, an exercise in patience that no one could claim to match. He waited for moments to surface-not for violence, because those were easy, but for the quiet moments where he got to live in the world as himself in the body.
Waiting was part of him. He had never disliked or begrudged it before, because it simply was.
As he paced restlessly in front of your limp body in the chair, he agonized. The waiting was excruciating, working itself into his nerve endings and riling him up. He kicked at the fallen bodies of the hulking bastards whose throats he had slit, trying to expel the energy as he waited and waited and waited.
He considered disobeying Khonshu and killing Apollo. Khonshu had never told him no before, had always encouraged his behavior. That he should deny him this felt petty, though a part of Jake understood the gravity of what it meant that Khonshu had, for once, said no.
The knife dripped blood as he gripped it in his hand, fingers flexing around the handle.
Flex, release. Flex, release.
He should have done what he had wanted to do in the hotel room: Teach you how to fight, to defend yourself. Maybe you would not be in this position now. Maybe Hermes would never have been able to overcome you.
Frustration boiled beneath his skin. Teeth grinding, he crouched in front of you, placing a bloody hand on your knee to steady himself. His thumb rubbed circles along the inseam of your pants as he stared into your slack expression.
"Despierta," he growled, willing you awake. "No te atrevas a dejarme tan pronto."
He squeezed, trying to elicit any response.
Apollo reared back, a shocked shout ripping from his lips as he flung backwards. He pressed his fists into his temples, a guttural scream issuing from deep within himself. "GET OUT!"
Jake leapt to his feet, moving past the chair to Apollo as the latter staggered. He brandished the knife.
No, Jake Lockley.
Jake hissed with displeasure. "Why not?"
They deserve to suffer.
Apollo sunk to his knees, writhing. Mouth gaping in a soundless scream, he slumped over, convulsing. Blood trickled from his nose.
The woman did better than I hoped.
The chair creaked behind Jake. He returned to your side in an instant, staring up into your face as you exhaled heavily, your eyelids fluttering open painfully.
"Jake," you whispered. His name sounded like heaven from your lips. Your mouth twitched into a soft smile. "You heard me."
"Siempre," he promised, a curious sense of relief rippling through him. He cut you free of the ropes, allowing you to sink forward against his chest. Holding you fiercely, possessive, not wanting to let go, he buried one hand in your hair, smearing it with blood. His control was slipping, however, the adrenaline and anger subsiding as he held you close.
He didn't have any words. Pressing a hard kiss to your forehead, he relished the feeling of your skin. Your hand curled into his shirt.
When he leaned back, his expression shifted, and Marc looked out at you. He blinked in surprise, brow furrowing as he glanced around, getting his bearings. Memory locked into place, adrenaline surging as he searched for Apollo and his men.
The bloodbath behind him did little to ease his nerves.
"Hi."
Your hoarse croak jerked Marc's attention back to you. Relief swelled in tandem with Steven's as he saw the thin, yet soft smile on your face. "You're okay."
You nodded, the movement ponderous. Exhaustion weighed down your entire frame, your body slumped in the chair, no longer held up by the ropes.
"What happened?" Steven asked, fronting so he could ask the question.
She is free of the parasite.
Steven glanced up in surprise at Khonshu, then saw Apollo behind the bird. The god in human flesh had stilled, rigid with an unnaturalness that made Steven's skin crawl.
He turned back to you. "How?"
You chuckled, then winced as it hurt your throat. Swallowing thickly, you answered, "I can only handle one person in my head. So I shoved them out back into his."
Steven glanced at the glassiness in Apollo's eyes. "They're both in there?"
"Either they work together, or the body dies."
Steven's head snapped around to look at you. "It what?"
"Can we please get out of here?"
You tried to lift yourself out of your seat, staggered as your bone-deep exhaustion overwhelmed you. Steven grabbed you under the arms and helped you to your feet. Marc fronted as you both shuffled past Apollo's inert form, paused beside him.
He shifted his attention to Khonshu. "What are the chances he dies?"
Exceedingly high. The Greek gods never cease to squabble.
"Good."
Puny human.
Steven fronted, frowned. "What now?"
I wasn't speaking to you.
You lifted your sagging head, the weight of your skull almost too much, and met the Egyptian god's empty eye sockets.
Do not waste what I have given you.
Panic made Steven's chest spasm. "What did he do?"
"You didn't give anything to me," you said, speaking directly to the bird. "It was already there."
Insolent.
Khonshu disappeared. Steven gaped at the empty space the deity had just occupied. "He sounded...amused, yeah?"
Suspicion mingled with surprise even in Marc. "That can't be good."
"What did you mean?" Steven asked you.
Taking a step forward, forcing him to move alongside you, you answered, "I'll tell you. But first, can we please get out of here?"
