Hey! So I was just scrolling around an obsessive tumblr called PJO Slash Headcannons (look it up, it's pretty cute even if you're not into a ton of slash/femslash couples). Then I read headcannon 277:

"Pollux hated Travis and Connor Stoll, a fact something that every camper in Camp knew. There were rumours on why, randing from 'he hates their pranks' or, the extremes of 'he hates them because they're Hermes kids'. The real reason why was because Pollux was jealous. Travis got to kiss and hug his brother every day; to spend time together and and enjoy his company, but he didn't. Castor, Pollux' other half, died during Second Olympian War. And know he was forever without Castor, alone and stuck watching Connor and Travis Stoll." -Submitted by curiouscaddy

I just want to make it super clear that this story was inspired by this outside force.

Also this is pretty much pure angst, but a different kind of angst. I was somewhat nervous about it, so tell me what you think. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own the character portrayed below and as previously mentioned I really need to thank the PJO Slash Headcannons for inspiration.

Stating the Obvious

After the Battle of the Labyrinth

Lacy's hands ran up and down his back. He felt her gentle touch through the blankets, just as he heard Christopher's wheezy breathing (he'd gotten a fist to the mouth during the battle- and by fist Pollux meant a Hyperborian's fist; that was a jaw problem with a lifetime guarantee right there) and Mitchell's feet tapping the ground nervously, like a dancer.

"Pollux," Lacy called softly as if she couldn't find him in the dark.

He didn't answer.

"Castor's dead," she said. "My saying it doesn't make it better, and it might make it worst. But I think that you need to hear it."

"Hear it why?" Pollux said. "Hear it why? To feel worst?"

"No," Mitchell said. Pollux easily heard the force with which he was keeping himself calm. He didn't like anyone, not even an angry friend like Pollux, yelling at his little sister. "To remind you of who Castor was. Of what he'd want you to be doing now."

Christopher said something approving, but Pollux could only tell by the tone and not the words.

"Which wouldn't be lying under blankets and ignoring the sunshine, love," Lacy said.

"It would be getting up and training," Mitchell said. "You know. To win the war."

And with that, Pollux sat up, blinked the spots out of his eyes, and never burrowed again.

*Again has various definitions.

After the Titan War

Pollux' forehead was leaning against the door as his nerves started worsening. Beads of sweat formed on his face.

Come on, he told himself. Come on. You didn't get out of bed, in and out of the shower and into some clothes to cower at the doorknob.

But apparently he had. Today was not the day for talking himself out of anxiety, panic and whatever else his hormones were releasing into his system.

Something that had always annoyed the children of Dionysus was the cabin's built. Whoever had designed it had clearly been a big fan of Dionysus' work, which might explain the stupidity of it. The vines lining it made it stiflingly hot and the imperfect roof let sunlight streak through, meaning that everyone inside was up at dawn like some crazy Demeter kid farmer or something. Pollux hated it. He knew that Castor had hated it too. Back in the day…

Thinking about all the time they'd spent yapping and bitching about the cabin's crappy architecture bothered Pollux enough to create the energy needed to leave the cabin.

See, he'd been there when they'd won the war. They'd won the war, they'd avenged the dead- the group of corpses that Castor was a part of.

So now what?

"Now what" definitely shouldn't be hanging out in the Central Green.

The Central Green was the place to be for demigods, and there were plenty of people there now. Pollux, already uncomfortable around people nowadays, didn't like the masses. But that's where Lacy was sitting and he wasn't about to demand that a girl with a sprained ankle move because of his mood- especially not Lacy, who was all smiles and twinkling eyes today. Probably the pain killers, but Pollux would take what he could get when it came to her happiness nowadays. He really did love her smile.

But see, the problem with the Central Green was the masses. The problem with the masses was that that was where people would go to cause trouble. The problem with causing trouble was that the Stolls were always behind it.

The problem with the Stolls was that they had the same floppy brown hair. The problem with that floppy brown hair was that it showed that they were brothers. The problem with being brothers was that when they'd chew off too big of a bite –for example, pick-pocketing Clarisse- and would then be ultimate allies as they tried to run away from the already moody daughter of Ares.

The problem with that alliance was that it broke within two seconds and Travis would thrust Connor in front of him and yell "TAKE HIM AS AN OFFERING" to which Connor would yell something about sharing the womb to which Travis would reply 'womb not tomb' to which Connor would bite his brother's hand thus making him let go and send the chasing elsewhere… The problem with that was that it made Pollux angry no matter how horribly he felt about it.

See, the problem with the Stolls was that Pollux was secretly starting to hate them.

Because they still had each other.

Pollux knocked on the door of Chiron's office. He was going to spill the beans, say everything, speak his mind, be honest, tell the truth and ask for help. That was good for him. It was necessary. His heart was heavy but he'd mustered the courage this morning and he wasn't about to drop it now.

But he did. Chiron opened the door and Pollux scrambled to pull a lie out of his butt.

"Headache," Pollux said. "Can I have a piece of ambrosia?"

"Have you tried drinking some more first?" Chiron asked checking for a fever.

"No, I'll go do that." Pollux said. He left, straight and stiff as a robot.

"Now what" wasn't even going off to the strawberry fields where only the children of Demeter and the nice, quiet, understanding satyrs walked around. It sounded great, but it felt like a prank. Like the universe was stating the obvious to him; tearing his wounds open after washing its hands with vinegar.

Because Katie would pick dirt out of Miranda's hair and they'd laugh about how it got there, and then Katie would tell Miranda that she should wash her hair because it was gorgeous and she couldn't let it go dry and then Miranda would tell her to back off because she wasn't her mom and then Pollux would feel like crying because no, she wasn't her mom, she was her older sibling.

Which was so, so much better.

After the War with Gaia

There had been a two to one part of excitement and dreadful groaning upon finding out that half of a Roman legion and the Hunters were going to be at camp at the same time. Why the gods couldn't plan their big conventions any better and save everyone some big logistical headaches, Pollux didn't know.

Probably the same reason why they build faulty cabin roofs, was what Castor would say. Pollux didn't even smile before getting all sad. The memory just flat-out hurt. It hurt and Pollux deleted it. He didn't think about the roof anymore, just like he didn't think about Oreo Lick Races, the zombie apocalypse, famous last words and inventors killed by their own inventions anymore. Because that's what he'd be thinking, and talking about, if Castor was around.

Anyways, he was doing alright for a change. Bacchus only had two kids and a legacy, so the cabin was going to be pretty quiet, but there was still all that energy in the air and all the Capture-the-Flag possibilities that were just waiting to happen.

There was a lot of noise, a lot of reunions and teasing and even some arguing going on. Pollux was standing around with Christopher –talking about engineering and such- and so he wasn't really focusing on anything in particular. His thoughts were cloudy nowadays. But for some reason when it happened, he heard it.

"JASON!"

He looked above his shoulder and saw one of the Hunters walking alone, which never happened. Actually she was running and it was Thalia, and Jason was the one she was running to. She jumped around his neck –he was so tall and she was short and only fourteen physically.

"You are in so much trouble!" Thalia said on the second that he'd let go of her.

"What did I do?" He moaned. He wasn't even reminding her that he was sixteen, a praetor of Rome, a legionnaire, a prophecy child. He was just trying not to get in trouble with his big sister.

"Roll up your sleeve," she ordered. "Come on, show me."

"How did you..?"

"Reyna and I have a little deal going. Come on, show me your scar."

"It was nothing, Thals."

"Show. Me." She said.

Jason sighed and rolled up his sleeve. Thalia grabbed his arm and fretted over it.

"You shouldn't fight alone," Thalia said jamming her finger in his chest. "That's not what you're trained for."

"Yes it is," Jason scoffed.

"Not majorly."

"Oh come on," Jason said. "That's like me telling you to not fight in a group. You'd beat me up for that."

"No, I wouldn't- because you're already doing it to yourself," Thalia said. "Oh Lord, Jason… I'm going to bubble wrap you."

"I'm not a little kid anymore."

"You are to me. Anything else I should know about?"

"No."

"Liar. Reyna told me about your calf."

"Oh, come on," Jason groaned.

Pollux looked down. Down at his shoes. Shoes had been the only thing poking out from underneath Castor's burial shroud (goddamn, he'd always been taller).

Jason and Thalia Grace had been separated for nearly fourteen years.

He looked down at his arms. The elbow had popped and he hadn't even noticed- it hadn't healed right after he'd broken it in the Titan War and did that sometimes.

He'd grown up with Castor.

He looked down at the ground and even that was painful because if the grounds had been safer, just a little, tiny bit safer… It brought tears to his eyes.

Why could people find each other after fourteen years, two wars, and enough godly interference to go around- but he had no chance of getting his brother back?

Pollux wanted to slam his head against the walls of the Big House as he walked down the hallway towards Chiron's office. He wanted to tear his skin off, jump in the ocean and let whatever freakish and terrifying animals lived there devour him alive. He rather do that at the moment, but figured that the ocean had an established ecosystem whereas he really needed to go talk to Chiron.

Coming in from the other side of the corridor were Lacy, Piper, Mitchell and Desiree- all holding onto each other and giggling over a story that Piper was telling.

Pollux threw himself into an open broom closet, knocking down cleaning supplies as he went. They walked through the Big House, grabbed some soda from the kitchen and walked back out. He started breathing again when the sounds of soda cans opening, fizzing drinks and slurping died off.

Lacy and Mitchell had been right there. He couldn't let them see him break down and go tell Chiron that he felt like crap on a permanent basis. The dark corners of his mind were open longer than McDonalds, seven days a week for crying out loud. He couldn't let it be known that despite his friends, he just couldn't be happy or skip around camp laughing like all the other campers. He couldn't let her think that she wasn't good enough; her friendship meant everything to her.

And so he went back to Cabin Twelve for a nap after explaining to Mr D what he was doing in the supply closet.

Lacy braided her hair when she needed to get lucky.

Well, Pollux had short hair and thus had only been able to cross his fingers and his toes. To no avail, which was what everything felt like nowadays.

He'd been hoping that the War with Gaia would help him. That he'd feel good about helping, that maybe another war, another reason to be on his feet… that he'd get out of bed in the morning easily now. That he wouldn't feel like his joints and bones had aged rapidly, that he wouldn't feel stiff and painful like an old man. That his bed wouldn't glue him down, that the pillow would release him, that the blankets wouldn't act like a cue his mind would take as 'you're pinned, don't get up'. That the sun poking through the cabin's roof wouldn't be the only thing getting him to his feet.

Nope.

He was back to being unable to get up. To get the willpower to get up. It wouldn't even take much, but he just couldn't do it.

The door creaked open.

"We're heading out to the campfire," someone called.

Pollux didn't answer. He was staring at his bed sheets. There was a black stain there. What had he done to it?

"It's Free Sitting night," Lacy said hopefully. "That's cool."

"And s'mores," Christopher added. He'd gotten much better at speaking. Why hadn't Pollux gotten better?

"No thank you," Pollux said. His voice was even worse than Christopher's.

"The Apollo cabin warned us that they've got a new number. That new boy, the ginger? He can swallow swords apparently. Wild." Mitchell said.

"No thank you, I'm tired."

"I have a canteen of nectar with me," Lacy said. That was too convenient.

"No thank you," Pollux said. They didn't leave. "You guys will be late for the camp fire."

They left a few minutes later.

Someone put a plate on his bedside table. He couldn't tell who was talking because of the pillow on his head, but he could hear the words "you missed supper."

He woke up from his nightmare screaming.

He showered panting, got dressed breathing deeply, and paused at the door with his forehead pressed to it.

People were milling around outside already. They were only going to breakfast, and Pollux wasn't hungry.

So he went back to bed to try and get some restful sleep.

Someone –probably the same person who'd put it there- picked up the plate on his bedside table. A new one was put down, and a glass was there too.

"Your favourite," someone whispered. He was half asleep and couldn't make out who it was. So he didn't pop his head out or sit up or anything.

A plate smashed against the ground and someone left the cabin, slamming the door.

Someone came into the cabin.

He didn't care.

Someone rummaged around the cabin.

He didn't care much either.

He heard the bathroom tap get turned on and some closets get rummaged through.

Whatever, maybe Mitchell needed to borrow a shirt.

The covers were thrown off of him and a bucket of water was pitched at his face.

Oh.

Lacy was holding an empty bucket.

Oh…

Her eyes, the colour of that chocolate mousse Mom made at Christmas, was narrowed and furious. Her blond hair was up in a bun with two tiny braids running across her scalp, which made her look like the ballerina she always was in all her old pictures. She was wearing one of those cardigan sweaters that she liked; this one was charcoal, a gift from Silena and she wore it when she wanted to feel brave, like when she had to go to the dentist's to get her mouth malformation fixed or visit her dad or go to a party. Her lips looked a little destroyed- they got even worse than they used to; she bit in them and tore them apart with her braces now.

"Alright," she said. "Alright, I don't care anymore, I don't care."

She took a deep breath and launched herself.

"I'll state the obvious and the obvious only. Castor died. And it's sad. It's sad for plenty of reasons. And you and Mitchell and Christopher and me and a whole lot of people miss him. But you are forgetting him by doing this to yourself," Lacy said waving her hand to the bed. "You are forgetting that he fought in that battle to make a better world for you to live in. You are forgetting that Castor would always take help instead of just letting himself spiral like this. And you are forgetting that most of all, Castor wanted you to be happy. Well you know what Pollux, maybe I don't finish your sentences during conversations and maybe I don't know you since childhood. But I do know what you're going to say before you say it because I know you since I got to camp. I know you well and every day I only want to know you better but I absolutely can't stand seeing you let yourself wither like this."

Pollux blinked and Lacy rubbed her eyes. They were teary.

"Sorry," she said. "But someone had to say it. You're not doing well and you need to start doing yourself a favour. Let people help. If not Chiron, if not the healers… Please stop locking me out. Because it hurts, Pollux, and not just yourself."

Memories shot through his mind like bullets. The sweet girl who could barely stand to talk to people if her brother wasn't there, but who was now calling him out on stuff like nobody's business. The girl who'd been scared of smiling because of her braces. The girl that he hadn't wanted to move but had wanted to be with when she'd sprained her ankle.

Pollux sat up in bed. He'd been lazy for himself, but for Lacy?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be. You're sick and it's not your decision. But you should try to heal," Lacy had. "I know you could if..."

"No," he said. His voice sounded hoarse. "I'm sorry that I hurt you Lacy. I never… I'd never… want to do that because you're… well… you."

She blinked. "Because me?"

"Because you're Lacy," he said. "And… and that's lots."

"Lots?" She frowned.

"Yeah. Lots. Lots of… good things. Reasons to want to keep you in one piece and… well, happy. That's... I didn't want to go ask for help and make you think that you weren't enough to keep me happy. Because... you are. You're fantastic. I just... other stuff is going on."

Lacy's eyes opened wider.

"Pollux," she said. "Are you..?"

"I'm serious about what I'm saying," he said. "I'm serious. You… I'm not just delusional or anything."

"I never said you were."

"No, I'm not," he said suddenly energised. It was like he'd gotten a push. "I'm serious, I… Gods, that cardigan looks good on you."

Pushed into the fountain of eternal youth or infinite stupidity apparently.

Lacy blushed. "Thank you."

He swung his legs out of bed, jittery. He hadn't wanted to get out of bed to look at people or talk to them or ask them for help or a talk because he hadn't wanted to look weak. But he'd been weakening himself all along.

"Looks good," he said talking about the food on his bedside table. Lacy blushed. Clearly she'd been the one –or at least of the ones- putting it there. He picked up a fork and spooned some eggs onto it.¸

"Don't," she said grabbing his wrist. "That's been sitting out there for a while. Probably spoiled. We'll… we'll get you some real food."

"Great," Pollux said. "Sounds great."

"Are you okay?" Lacy asked. "That was pretty… polarised."

"I am," Pollux said. "And so I'll probably crash in a couple of minutes but I've gotta tell you something Lacy, I really gotta."

"Okay," Lacy said. "Well…"

"You're fantastic, and you've got to tell me that you understand. I'm crap, but it's not because you're not good enough. It's because the world isn't. Is that okay?" Pollux asked.

"Yeah," Lacy said. "That's… That's plenty okay."

"Oh good," Pollux said. "Good, because you are incredibly brilliant Lacy Whyte and I think that you need to hear it more often."

Lacy frowned, smiled and then kissed him. It was soft and calm, not fiery or sparking like kisses were to everyone else. Still pretty awesome, though. She guided him back to bed.

"You don't have to feel better all at once," she said. "And you don't have to be up and at 'em too. Just like you didn't have to play strong for me. But it's appreciated; I guess that trying to look strong is what boys always do. Everyone's off at Capture-the-Flag right now, so give yourself another night to relax before going out. You can go take a shower. I'll go see what I can do about that food."

"Okay," Pollux said a little breathlessly.

Lacy nodded and let herself out of the cabin.

Pollux tapped his feet against the ground, like a tap dancer. His breath was wheezy, he was breathless. Lacy's soft touch was still on his lips.