"Better to be strong than pretty and useless."

-Lilith Saintcrow, Strange Angels

"The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, but true beauty in a Woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she knows."

–Audrey Hepburn

Chrisse

He'd always been the only one to see something different in her, and now she was just a shell of a person. Checking to make sure the door to the basement room of the Big House was locked, Clarisse stooped above Chris' frail, broken body, but it wasn't his mangled body that caused her pain-that could be solved with a little nectar and ambrosia-but his totally, utterly, ruined mind. Chiron had explained it to her like this: Imagine his brain being boiled in a pot of saltwater for hours before it being shredded to pieces and then shoddily sewn back together. Just the image in Clarisse's mind made her have to fight back a whimper.

NO, NO, NO, she thought, THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. But her eyes told her otherwise, and then he stirred. Clarisse braced herself, expecting his usual train of broken, heartbreaking nonsense, but instead his words seemed softer, and less harsh and loud.

"I promise… forever." Chris Rodriguez whispered to the ceiling. She could hardly believe her ears, doubting every word. Those were the last words he'd ever said to her before she left for her quest in the Sea of Monsters. Lies, as she knew them to be now, since he'd left to join Kronos' army that very night, but still, they meant something to her. They left a void deep within her chest that no victory, no power, no other person in the whole universe could ever fill.

She gripped his hand tighter, hoping her presence would help his scattered memories recover. Clarisse knew that no one could ever see her like this. No one could ever see the great and powerful Clarisse La Rue being so easily torn down from her pedestal by just one guy. She could've held the tears back forever, and kept on her brave face if he had not then uttered her name. Sure, it was a mangled, horrible-sounding version of her name coming from a dry throat that would not sound better no matter how much water she'd pour into his mouth, but it was her name.

Now, if this had been a beautiful love story with anyone who lived in a perfect version of reality, Chris would've sat up right then, memories restored, and declared his love for her and how he'd been wrong to join Kronos, but we all know that's not what happened. Chris was silent for the rest of the night, and Clarisse sat by his bedside, often checking the locked door to make sure that no one was standing there watching her cry.

Chris could not really think anything anymore. His thoughts were like their own little inescapable labyrinth, but every now and then, a piece of the puzzle, or a memory would catch his eye, before fluttering away in the harsh wind of his mental labyrinth. He could feel an angry, dangerous presence hovering over him. He figured it was something that could hurt him, yet he was so wrong. The presence came every so often and grabbed hold of him.

His mind was so confused that part of him wanted to thrash and scream and get it off of him, but the other part wanted to draw it closer to him for reasons he could not understand. For, some way or another, the presence just radiated kindness… maybe even… love? He took to calling the presence "Mary," because it was the first name that popped into his mangled mind, even though somewhere inside of him he knew that was wrong. It just so happened that that night, one of his memories fluttered towards him; it's wings broken by sadness.

The cold winds of the labyrinth tried to pull it away from him, as they had done with all his other memories, but the little memory persisted and floated towards him, finally revealing a couple by the campfire. Was that guy him? What girl would ever want a guy like him, for as long as he could remember, he'd been this hollow shell of a body with a war raging inside.

"I promise… forever." The unremembered version of him said, "I will love you forever, Clarisse La Rue." Before he can understand what he's just witnessed, the memory floats away from him, and he somehow understands that the presence has been broken by this memory. Not as broken as him, but broken in a different way.

Chris couldn't feel his injuries to his brain or his body, but he feels a slow repair of an injury within his heart. Clarisse could feel the bruise on her hip from wrestling earlier that day, and the cut on her leg from one of the branches in the forest scraping her a little too hard, but she also feels the little bit of healing that those words had just given her.

And who knows? Maybe one day, they'll be okay, but today both of them are healing.

Throw my cards, give you my heart

Wish we could start all over

Nothing's making sense at all

-Painting Flowers, All Time Low

A/N: Well, that turned out a little more depressing than I thought it would be. So sorry that I didn't post for Gruniper week, but I just couldn't muster up anything. I hope you guys liked it and that you thought they were in character.

Smiles,

Readingqueen811