Zahra was dead. At least, she should have been if it weren't for an Egyptian Goddess deciding she didn't deserve to die so young. Yet, Zahra had no memories of the time before becoming an Avatar and it seemed that a trip to a familiar place was soon...
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Marc Spector assumed that when he saw Zahra Okasha through his reflection in the mirror, she couldn't have been real...that he was confusing her with someone else...or that she had some sort of twin. Anything but her, it couldn't be her.
Zahra was dead; he watched her die.
Then he knew it had been her and he wondered how on earth she was somehow alive. Part of him was angry at her...how she didn't find him to let him know she was okay or the fact she'd disappeared before he'd even found her body. He knew when she spoke that she didn't know who he was back at the apartment. Like he'd never existed at all to her or that she hadn't lived.
Yet, she was standing in front of him. He knew her eyes, he knew her hair, he knew everything about her. He loved her and she was alive.
"You died...you died...I watched you die," Marc breathed out.
"I'm sorry, I don't think...I'm not who you think I am," Zahra spoke slowly. "You call yourself Steven but Layla calls you Marc. You were British and you didn't know me and now you're American and you're telling me you watch me die."
"It's complicated—"
"So am I," Zahra breathed out.
Marc gently took hold of Zahra's arm, his fingers brushing against her skin. In that fleeting moment, something unexpected occurred. As his hand made contact with the intricate dream catcher tattoo etched onto her forearm, a sudden jolt coursed through her, almost like a spark of electricity. The sensation was so intense that it caught her off guard, and a small yelp escaped her lips as the shock sent her collapsing to her knees on the cool, unforgiving ground.
Reacting instantly, Marc dropped down in front of her, his expression a mix of concern and urgency.
"Zahra, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
"Zahra, what's wrong?" Marc panicked. "Zahra!"
Memories rushed through her like a tidal wave; adventures across a desert with Marc, the two of them grinning as they looked over Egyptian markings; Marc introducing himself to Zahra and Layla; Marc spinning around in his suit as Zahra gave the middle finger to an invisible Khonshu; her wedding day in a very small chapel; Zahra singing in Arabic to him.
There was no sign of Steven through it all. Zahra didn't know where he'd come from but she knew Marc. She remembered her husband and the look in her eyes told Marc that too.
"Marc?" Zahra breathed harshly as she looked up.
"Zahra, do you remember me?"
Zahra breathed out as she leaned her head against Marc's.
"Our lives are really messed up, aren't they?" She said softly.
"I know," Marc laughed, leaning his head against hers. "You okay?"
