MOON KNIGHT ONESHOTS || taking requests

Cold, Cold, Cold

•a deeper look into the end of episode 4 and marc's thoughts- +alt jake lockley ending •

!! mentions of non-com electroshock therapy

-for lucy (again, she fuelled 7 of these monsters)

Something was wrong.

Dr Harrow's voice was like a dull buzzing, no more interesting to Marc than the fly that hugged the pristine walls of the doctor's office.

The man didn't stop talking, his droning voice listing off medical terms that Marc wasn't entirely sure weren't made up. Marc was tired, the blood in his veins running cold as his fingers twitched in a delayed rhythm, eyes blinking one after the other as he tried his best to focus on something, on anything.

But focusing on anything was difficult.

Because something was very, very wrong.

Anytime Marc tried to drag his mind away, his thoughts trailed back to that emptiness, to that wrongness and he couldn't stop it.

Dr Harrow definitely couldn't stop it; the man was holding a pen, waving the item between them with a glint of pity behind his thin-wired glasses, lips moving in silent dialogue as Marc groggily blinked once again.

The voice was disconnected, the words bouncing in Marc's cotton-stuffed head in what might as well have been a different language.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Marc felt sick to his stomach, blood rushing like ice through his heavy arms and he groaned as he failed to move them, Harrow's eyebrow arching as the former started to mumble, drool pooling in his numb mouth as he panicked.

Something was wrong, Marc was wrong.

Marc wasn't himself.

...

Steven wasn't there.

"Steven," his pronunciation was garbled like marbles were rolling between his teeth but Harrow understood.

Dr Harrow always understands.

"Marc, we've been over this, Steven isn't real."

Wrong.

"Your favourite movie, remember, he's an incredible character I must admit but that's all he is, a character."

Wrong!

"Marc, I'm trying to help you but this is getting out of hand, there's only so many times we can tell you Steven Grant isn't real before we have to move to something more drastic."

This didn't feel like help. He was cold, every nerve and cell in his body was freezing and Dr Harrow didn't seem like a beacon of warmth, he seemed like a deep chasm of chills and darkness.

"Steven," he tried again, voice a little more stable as his body balanced its weight a little more efficiently, he could feel his toes twitch in his slippers as his tongue seemed to deflate in his desert mouth.

Harrow set the pen down on the desk, a sigh echoing throughout the office that appeared to expand as Marc pressed into his seat like the shaky plastic could protect him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Marc, I need you to listen to me."

Marc didn't want to listen because everything Harrow was saying to him was wrong, wrong, wrong.

He didn't make Steven up, Steven was his alter and his first friend and the one that held the better parts of Marc's fractured personality.

If Steven wasn't real, that made Marc an awful person, if Steven wasn't real then neither was Marc's empathy or innocence and that couldn't be true.