Okay, this is kinda longer for me. :) I'm actually surprised I wrote more for this Chrisse oneshot. If you guys want this to be a series, it depends on how many requests I get. But I actually feel like I might be able to write more about this, so do what you need to do. Enjoy! Written for PJO Ship Weeks.
Disclaimer: I don't own PJO! The cover art is by a different artist this time, the one and only, Viria! Check out her blog, its link is on my profile.
I limped towards a boulder sitting at the edge of the pier. Climbing atop it, I untied my bandana, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and tied it up again, keeping my hair in place. Unexpectedly, from what I thought was a deserted area, I heard a loud choke and someone coughing. I turned around, searching for the source of the sound, then I made out a shadow crouched underneath the moulding bridge behind me. How had I not noticed it before? With my pocket knife poised in my hand, in case it was some sort of messed up hobo, and Maimer hidden behind my back, I approached the mysterious figure.
"Hello? Who are you?" I said when I was about a foot or two away from the shadow.
"N-no!" a guy's voice responded, even if I couldn't see his face, I could tell by his voice that he was scared to death. "Don't hurt me! I h-haven't d-done anything to you!" He scrambled away from me, hidden behind a supporting post.
Hmm, maybe I was coming off a little to Ares-kid-like. I put my pocket knife away and dropped Maimer onto the rocks. Hey, if worst comes to worst, I could probably take this guy in hand to hand combat. The poor dude seemed frightened out of his mind anyway.
"Look, I don't want to hurt you, just tell me your name."
"How d-do I know you're not a monster?" Demigod? Most likely, but even the younger kids aren't such wimps when encountering another person, much less a half blood.
"First things first, do I look like I have any weapons on me?" I said, slightly annoyed. At the sound of his whimpers, I tried a different approach. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?" I kneeled down to his level, moving forward slowly.
"C-Chris."
Suddenly, it was like the pieces of a puzzle just worked themselves out completely. "Wait," I clarified. Trying to get a clear look of his face, but the guy wouldn't relent and step out from underneath the bridge. "Chris Rodriguez? You're one of the people who betrayed camp for Luke?"
"Luke? Where is he? Is he here?!" he cried, panicking and trying to shrink even further behind the support of the bridge. "Hide me! Get me away from him!"
"Shhh, no, he's not here. I'm here, I can help you. I'll bring you back to camp, he'll never be able to get you from there." I convinced, pleading him. For some reason I felt bad for this guy, he was just another half blood schemed into trusting Luke, but having his mental capability shattered. Definitely something fighting for no good assholes like the Titan Army would do to you. They didn't care about your well being at all, just that you were a worthy pawn to them. Gods, I hate those guys, they will soon feel the wrath of a daughter of Ares, and if I could say so myself, it was something you would want to avoid for the rest of your life.
"W-what's your name?" he asked, seemingly calming down.
"Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares. Who's your parent?" By this time I had appeared to be no threat to him and he let me by his side.
I studied his face, his hazel eyes seemed to have once held happiness, but right now they were just an empty shell of horrifying globes. His eyes were glassy, broken, darting to every corner as if everything was a danger to him. Even I had to feel bad for the guy. His body looked just as awful. It was filled with battle scars, a pool of dried blood was visible at the front of his ripped t-shirt, through that, his ribs were basically exposed, like only a thin piece of skin covered them. I shivered, the sight of him was paralyzing. He had a huge gash on the side of his face, where pus was starting to ooze out, I really needed to get him into the infirmary. His messy brunette hair was more than just windswept. It was literally a rat's nest, unevenly cut as if a monster had done it, which it probably did, tufts were missing, dirt and grime tangled in it. He definitely looked malnourished. I assumed he was about my age, maybe a bit older, but with all the injuries you just couldn't tell.
"How 'bout I bring you back to my house, and in a few days I'll bring you back to camp." I suggested when I could tell he was making no attempt to reply to my question.
"P-promise you won't hurt me?" he said, in such an innocent voice that I couldn't say no, even though I had a feeling I probably will. His eyes were shattered, staring into my own. What did this boy go through?
"I promise." I replied, crossing my fingers in front of my heart. "Cross my heart." It was a little joke that my mom and I always did, it kind of always stuck with me.
He replayed the action, and I swear the corners of his lips had raised just a little bit. "Cross my heart." he repeated.
"Can you stand?" I questioned, my hand already on his arm, ready to suck it up with my swelling ankle and support the weight of this guy.
"Can you stand?" he asked again, noticing my wince when I began to get up.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me, just answer the question." I snapped, immediately regretting it as his eyes became guarded again. Shit, this was going to be one tough nut to crack.
"I th-think so." He attempted to get up, surprisingly doing so without a cry of pain or any sign of emotion.
I limped towards Maimer, which was lying on a pile of rocks and used it like a walking stick. "Come on, it's over there."
After fifteen minutes of the half an hour walk to my house, my ankle started giving in again. I skittered to a stop and struggled to lean against a wooden railing. I groaned, as I was showing a sign of weakness in front of some nut job that I had just met.
Chris noticed my pain and stopped walking, kneeling down beside my ankle. "What did you do?" he inquired, looking up at me with a curious expression, his fingers lightly brushing it.
"Damn it, this hurts!" I cursed. I took a deep breath, trying not to focus on the pain. "A stupid hellhound the size of a monster truck, attacked me when I wasn't paying attention, it crushed my ankle, as you can see." I explained.
Then Chris did something that I wouldn't have expected in this lifetime. He kissed his hand, and touch my ankle again. He muttered something I couldn't make out, but I caught words like, "...make it better."
"What was that?" I asked, curious from his out-of-character actions.
Chris stood up again, his towering six foot three-ish stature intimidating for a moment. His eyes held a loving, but distant look, like he was finally remembering something pleasant. "Kiss it to make it better, my mom always told me that." I swore I saw him grin, but at this point, I was convinced that I was becoming delusional. He offered his arm out to me, and for once, I accepted someone's help.
"Thanks." I murmured, trying not to let my pride go.
We continued our walk, with Chris's arm probably bruised from my steel-like grip, though he never said anything. How could someone so scared before suddenly become my knight in shining armor? Ugh, why was I even thinking this? That I was this weak damsel in distress that needed this dude's help? Whatever, my only mission was to get another half blood to camp.
"That's it." I said, pointing to a cream-coloured, relatively big house a few doors down. It wasn't anything special, same dying plants aligning the sides of the driveway, a few worn out wooden steps leading to the doorway, and a water damaged roof. "Let's go through the back." I told Chris. "No stairs." I huffed, trying to distract myself from the pain.
Chris led me to where I directed him to go and I pulled out my key from my pocket. When opening the door, a loud creak echoed the empty basement. An olive green couch sat in the corner, a 90's T.V. set in front of it, on the other side of the room was a miniature kitchenette, it was made up of a sink and two cabinets, a short table in the middle serving as a makeshift island. The whole room was lined with burgundy shag carpets and tacky wallpaper.
"You can sit on the couch, I'll go get some ambrosia." I said, walking towards the kitchen, my supply of ambrosia and nectar was always stashed in the cabinet down here. As I stepped onto the decrepit hardwood floors, it strained underneath my weight. I winced as I put weight on my ankle and also the sound of the whining floors. I grabbed a plastic sandwich bag where I had a few squares of ambrosia and a vial filled with a golden syrup-like liquid, nectar.
"Do you always stay down here?"
"No, it's sort of like my safe haven. I come here to avoid my mom." I opened the bag, offering half a square of ambrosia to Chris and eating the other half myself. My ankle automatically felt better, but I could tell it would still take some rest in order for it to heal. Chris's appearance didn't change, so I gave him a sip of nectar. With this, the cut on the side of his face cleaned up by itself, the pus vanishing and instead of dripping with blood, it was just open and pink. "That'll have to do for now, I can't give you too much of this stuff. I'll go get a bandage to cover that." When I turned to get more first-aid supplies, Chris caught my arm, pulling me to sit beside him on the couch.
"Thank you," he said. And what I saw in his eyes this time, was not a hollow void of emotions that were once there, but his hazel orbs held hope, very little of it, but he finally believed that he could get better. And I knew that that hope would drive him.
Remember to review! Hope you guys enjoyed that. Maybe Clarisse was a bit OOC, but I always pictured her being softer with Chris. Check out my other stories and peace! I've got nothing else to say. :D Have a nice weekend! (Or Sunday, but you know, whatever. :P)