Febuary, 1991
A young man sat at a campfire, playing the guitar. He was mostly randomly strumming it to keep the others around him entertained. He wasn't sure what the title of the song he was playing exactly was; something like "More Gun," but it was simple nonetheless so he could play it. Now this in itself wouldn't have drawn much attention if it wasn't for how the man was dressed; and his impromptu audience for that matter.
He was a soldier. He was dressed in old "chocolate chip" camouflage, a flak jacket sat next to him along with his rifle; his helmet sat sloppily on his head. His audience was several dozen soldiers and airmen of all nations, with even a few civilians thrown into the mix. Most were Americans, but a few Saudis, Brits, French, and even some Iraqi civilians were all listening with smiles on their faces.
One audience member in particular, a young woman who looked to be about the same age as the man, looked particularly entranced; she tended the campfire even as he played. She had amber eyes, tanned skin, and brown curly hair mostly hidden by a shawl. None of the others knew she was there, because no one had cared to notice her. Except for the player, he saw her and gave a warm smile.
She could feel it, the familial sense of brotherhood all of the soldiers around her gave. If there was one thing she admired about Christians, it was that they treated all as their brothers and sisters.
The guitarist finished his song and everyone around gave quiet cheers and claps. "Nice song sergeant where'd ya learn to play like that?" one of the privates asked.
The Sergeant smiled and shrugged, "ah, my mother taught me. My old man was a violinist; both taught me everything there is to know about their instruments." He said, giving the private a tiny smile.
Then one Soldier stepped forward and gestured for everyone to quiet down. "Alright, calm down boys. I hate to break this up, but ya' all need to hit your racks and get to sleep. We move out in the morning." That caused groans of despair from everyone gathered around, but the man was resolute, "Sorry boys, but orders are orders."
They all grumbled but began dispersing; the French, Brits, and Saudis going to their respective camp sections, while the Americans left on mass to the tents nearby.
"Captain Chase, Sir?" The Sergeant said,
"Yes Sergeant Jackson, what is it?" Captain Chase asked.
"Is it all right if I stay here for a few more minutes? I'll put the fire out and take care of everything. I just want to enjoy it for just a little longer. Reminds me of home sir." Sergeant Jackson asked.
Chase paused for a moment, then relented; "Alright Tom, fine, just don't blame me for when you wake up extra tired tomorrow. I ain't carrying your dumb ass stuff."
Tom gave a lopsided grin, "Thanks Fred, you know me so well. You find any girl back home by the way? I heard your brother found himself a fiancée."
Fredrick hesitated, and then gave an embarrassed smile. "Well, I have met this one woman; she's amazing I tell ya. Really smart, beautiful too but she can be a little cold to other people too. Not serious or anything, haven't gone on any dates and the like."
Thomas chuckled, "Meet her in collage ya? Ah lucky man, still plan on teaching military history when you get out?"
Fred nodded, "Oh yes, I've actually got a spot lined up at Virginia. I start as soon as the wars over and I get out. What about you?"
Tom shrugged, "Dunno, You know it's funny considering my namesake, I should be the one teaching military history. But to answer your question… I don't really know; beyond getting out of the service that is."
Fred gave his sergeant a look of sympathy, then left for the officer's tent after giving him a quick "good night."
Sergeant Thomas J. Jackson set down his guitar and lay back on the sand and dirt. He missed his home, but there wasn't much to return too. Just an old wooden cabin out in the middle of nowhere in Virginia; he had actually been thinking about moving to New York City once he mustered out.
He looked and saw to his surprise the pretty young woman from earlier was still there, tending the fire. Internally he debated whether or not he should talk to her; before he thought, Ah what the hell why not…
"What's a woman like you doin' in a place like this?" He asked, regretting his choice of words immediately. Ah shit, now I sound like I'm flirting with her. "Sorry, didn't mean to say it like that." He apologized before she could even open her mouth to speak.
The woman looked at him with a smile on her face, and she gave a little laugh. "Oh it's alright; I know you didn't mean it that way. That was a beautiful song by the way." She said.
"Thanks, I'm Sergeant Jackson, but you can call me Tom." He said reaching out his hand. She tilted her head, before reaching out and shaking it.
Her eyes were amber, almost like they were made of fire. "Hestia."
August 21st, 1993
"Staff Sergeant Thomas J. Jackson, For courage under fire during the battles of 'Norfolk' and '73 Easting,' the rescue of 30 United States Army soldiers from several burning Infantry Fighting Vehicles despite grievous injuries to your right leg, and for repurposing the 25mm cannon from one of said burning vehicle to protect your wounded comrades and the medics treating them; It is my honor to present to you the Medal of Honor." President Clinton said a somewhat fake but charming smile on his face as he put the award over a smiling Jackson's neck.
"Well done son." He added quietly, putting his hand forward and shaking Jacksons. Tom put his left hand forward and shook the president's, thankful that the guy at least had the foresight/restraint to put his own left hand forward. Especially seeing as his right was occupied with his cane.
He didn't regret anything; in fact if it meant losing both of his legs to save all of his men he would have done it. Tom tried his best to ignore the cameras as he gave his signature lopsided grin. "Thank you Mr. President." He whispered back.
He turned to the gathered crowd and waved as the president put a hand on his back and waved at the crowd as well. The gathered crowd of journalists and dignitaries began clapping and cheering.
Tom looked at Fredrick, who was dressed in his uniform; the Silver Star still hanging from his uniform, despite his daughters best efforts to yank on it. Tom couldn't help but smile every time he looked at his old captain; apparently he had hooked up with that woman he had told him about all that time ago.
After a few minutes of shaking hands and accepting thanks, Tom decided to see his old friend. It had been close to a year since they had last seen each other, Fredrick finally having gotten his professorship in Richmond he had so desperately wanted.
Fred was cooing at his baby girl, letting her yank on his index finger. Her mop of curly blond hair was every which way; but her stormy grey eyes belied the intelligence that she had inherited from her parents. He heard a soft thumping noise and looked up to see Tom stumping over to him, carefully putting all his weight into his cane.
Fred decided to speak first, get the first jibes in; "Sorry, but the handicap parking is that way; please move on." He said, keeping his face straight, but unable to keep his amusement out of his eyes.
He saw a few people standing around widen their eyes, having heard him over the drone of people. Some moved to reprimand him but Tom beat them too it.
"My apologies good sir, but I am afraid that the elderly are not welcome here, please take your grandchild and leave the premises." Tom said, also keeping a straight face. The two stared at each other for a moment while the eavesdroppers watched them with interest. Then they started chuckling.
Tom stumped forward and shook Fred's left hand, while Fred kept a tight hold on his daughter in his right. "It's good to see you old friend, I can see you've gotten busy since the last time I saw ya." He joked.
Fred turned a little red and said, "Well… not entirely… you want to meet her? Her name is Annabeth."
Tom grinned, and handed Fred his cane; making sure to put most of his weight on his left leg, lest he cause excruciating pain in his right. He took Annabeth gently and smiled down on her, his bright blue eyes seemingly lighting up as he looked at her. "She's beautiful Fred, looks a lot like you except for her eyes. I assume she got them from her mother yeah?"
He didn't notice how Fred stiffened slightly before he responded, "Yeah… she's gonna be much smarter than me I'll tell ya." Tom nodded and moved to hand her back when he noticed that his friend had stiffened.
Tom blinked and tilted his head, "Uh… Fred? You okay?" he asked cautiously.
Fredrick seemed to shake himself internally and grinned, "Yeah all good, just let my mind wander for a bit there." Tom gave him a look of suspicion but accepted the answer nonetheless. He quickly wrote something down and handed the slip to Fred along with Annabeth while he took his cane back.
"That's my new address and phone number, just getting settled in so feel free to send any letters you want. And if you ever need a sitter, please hesitate to call; because I am not good with children, and flying all the way down from New York to Virginia would be a massive waste of time." He said with a smile. Fred took it and nodded as Annabeth yawned loudly.
They both chuckled and Fred said, "Well I best get going, long drive from Washington to Richmond tomorrow, and little Annie is gonna need all the rest she can get."
Tom shook his head, "Lucky rat, I gotta stay here until the President says the parties over. I'll be back in New York by tomorrow. Stay safe brother, and please call." He said before stumping away to another group of people to accept their thanks, despite it being very clear to Fredrick that he didn't want to be there.
On Fredrick's part, he involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. That was too close. He thought. Thomas wasn't dumb by any stretch of the imagination. So Fred was surprised that he didn't ask more questions. Tom was a nice guy, but he was a little bit too devout to his Christian faith. If he ever found out who Annabeth's mother really was, the results wouldn't be pleasant to say the least.
The next day, even as Fredrick drove home with Annabeth; Tom rode a taxi from the airport to his apartment in downtown Manhattan. He was dressed in his green "class A" dress uniform. His black-blue Beret sat on his lap, his duffle bag sat next to him. He fingered his Medal of Honor absently; he felt that he didn't deserve the damned thing. He had simply done what any good person would have. But he wore it regardless; he recalled the words of another Medal of Honor recipient and friend that he had gotten to know, a Vietnam war F-105 Thunderchief pilot by the name of Leo Thorsness. "We wear this medal for those who can't."
Couldn't argue that point; "Hey we're here." The driver snapped, ah good old New York city. Didn't matter if he was a war hero to the eyes of the public, New Yorkers treated everyone the same way; like shit. Quite the contrast to his native Virginia, but he had gotten a position as a professor of military history at West Point.
During the summer and holidays he could stay in his new apartment, and during term he would stay on an academy provided room. Unlike the cadets, the professor's rooms were actually nice, seeing as most were either retired military or civilians.
He tipped the driver and put on his beret, and stumped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. He stumped towards the stairs before shifting his cane into his left hand and putting his weight into the railing. After a minute, he got up the steps and walked down the hall and into his apartment.
He set his things down onto the small couch and walked over to the fireplace. He awkwardly knelt and started the gas fire. He got back up and stumped over to the kitchen and prepared himself some iced tea; some habits die hard.
Just as he poured himself some, he heard the fire flare suddenly; and then heard a woman grunt. Tom smiled and got out another glass, he quickly grabbed a plate and put the iced drinks on it; a necessity seeing as he only had one free hand.
He stumped into the living room, seeing the love of his life standing in front of the fireplace; a warm smile on her face. "Hey Hestia, been awhile hasn't it?" he asked in mock anger.
Hestia smirked at him and said, "Really? Dear me it has been a long time hasn't it." A slight waver in her voice.
It had really only been a week since they had last seen each other. But they had both been unhappy at the separation, having spent almost a full year together. Tom narrowed his eyes at the waver in Hestia's voice, immediately detecting that something was wrong. He set the tea down and asked slowly, "Hestia… honey, is everything all right?"
It was a testament to their relationship that he was able to pick up on her emotions so easily, and that she was even able to convey them to him in the first place.
"Thomas… I…" she stuttered.
That got his attention, she never used his full name unless she got angry (which had only happened a few times,) or she was frightened.
"Tia? What is it?" he asked, twisting his cane in his hand; debating whether or not to take out the celestial steel blade inside it. Internally he began drudging up his Ancient Hebrew, preparing to invoke the magic of the lord.
She flung herself forward and hugged him tightly, giving a loud sob. "Tom! I… I don't know how to say this; I'm so sorry this happened!" she exclaimed, her powers activating as her amber eyes turned to fire.
"What happened? What are you sorry for honey? Whatever it is I can take it." He said.
Hestia gulped and took his hand and led him over to the couch. It took all of Thomas' willpower not to drop his cane right then and there, all his internal spell checking died away. Bundled up next to his duffle bag, was a baby. Tom stumped over, speechless; he propped his cane up and gently grabbed the baby and rocked it silently.
"When?" was all he could bring himself to say.
Hestia sniffed, "He was born a few days before you received your medal. Oh I'm so sorry Tom; I never wanted to bring this on you! I'm not supposed to have any children; I was supposed to swear off marriage. I swore on the river Styx!"
Tom broke out into a large grin, looking at his sons amber eyes, darker skin, and curly brown hair. "You swore off marriage if I recall correctly, not children. Yes you said you would never have children, but you didn't swear an oath. Besides, I could care less. A son! HAHA! I'm a dad!" he cheered, catching Hestia off guard.
The baby blinked and gave him a large smile, while Hestia stumbled as Tom pulled her into a hug. Hestia slowly began to smile as well, Tom's happiness rubbing of on her. After a few minutes Tom broke the hug and sat down on the couch, wincing as he put weight on his bad leg. Hestia sat down next to him, taking the child into her arms.
"What's his name?" Tom asked, putting an arm around Hestia's shoulders and looking down at their son.
Hestia rocked him back and forth before saying, "I was thinking… Perseus."
Tom smiled and said, "That's a great name Tia, the only Greek hero that actually got a happy ending right?"
Hestia nodded, but an aggrieved expression crossed her face. "Oh Tom, I don't know if I can do this! You know how it goes, I have to leave both of you; Gods aren't supposed to be this attached to any humans, especially not me."
Tom's expression turned melancholy, "I know, but that's the way the world is. I suppose you immortals might have everything in the book, except for the one that matters most I think; free will." He reached out and took her hand, and pulled her in tighter. "But this isn't goodbye forever. You told me you don't have many responsibilities. You're always free to visit, or at the very least, I'm always free to talk. I will make time." He said.
Hestia wordlessly turned and faced him, tears now running down her face as she handed him Perseus. He took it and looked into her eyes, which had changed from amber into flames. He felt tears well up in his own eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
Percy began to cry, the sad feelings from the two figures above him leaking into him, making him sad as well.
The two of them kissed, before there was a soft whoosh and Hestia was gone.