THEN SHE WINS
by Tonzura123
Disclaimer: *little puppet appears* Hi kids! I'm Rick Riordan! I'm rolling in money! I write fanfiction under the guise of a college girl!
The obstacle course is much more fun when you're facing off with a Cyclops instead of a bunch of whimpering newbies. And facing off with a Cyclops was about a million times more electrifying when you remembered that this Cyclops is your boyfriend.
Tyson smiles at her and hunkers over, fingers to the earth, legs bent, ready to bolt. She does the same, and shoots him a glare that isn't all that up to her usual standard. His dreads are pulled back in a weird topknot, and he's wearing exercise shorts and a blue tee and absolutely no shoes. It's sort of a tactic that she favors for the course. She tugs on her own ponytail absently, making sure it won't be flipping in her eyes when she beats him. Then she checks it again, then one more time, then slams her hand down on the dirt, because dang it all she is definitely not primping when she's supposed to be focusing on the course!
Okay. Focus. She closes her eyes and blocks out boy-smell and digs her fingers into the hard, sandy dirt and bits of fragmented metal from decades ago. The camp's obstacle course was set up half a century ago, during the Vietnam War (her dad is still disgruntled) by a group of Hephaestus kids. They seem to set up everything in the camp, actually. If it's mechanical and it can kill you, check out the cabin with the hammer and tongs. They probably have the blueprints.
At the very beginning, where Tyson and Clarisse are hunched now, is the starting gate. The starting gate is an actual gate that you have to get over just to begin the course. It's completely metal, and though it looks kinda spindly, the material is several tons of weight, just waiting to be toppled over. Because it can topple over. And flip on its axis. And open. And shut. And spontaneously conduct an electric current that could zap you off of it when you're half-way up. Which would be a twenty-foot drop.
The gate is only the beginning.
After the gate, is the course, and the course is infamous. If a camper has the guts to speak about it, they always speak in hushed tones. It's said that the courses changes on its own, so you can't completely prepare. No one in all of Camp Half-Blood, past or present, has made it through this course.
No, not even Prissy Jackalope. So stop asking. If you're here to read about him, then all you need to know is that Lame-Brains is sitting over there on the stands, eating blue popcorn with Annabeth and Grover and the Hermes twins, cheering for his brother Tyson.
"And Clarisse," he adds, when Annabeth elbows him. "Go Clarisse."
Clarisse ignores him. It isn't that hard with Tyson close by.
A daughter of Aphrodite, twelve year old Laney, stands between the two competitors, a spicy pink scarf hanging from her raised hand.
"ON YOUR MARK!" she yells.
Clarisse breathes slowly out, zoning in on the gate, looking for footholds.
"GET SET!"
She sends a small prayer to her dad, reminding him of the glory he could get for his House- the first child of all the gods to defeat the Course.
Laney raises her scarf even higher, standing on tip-toes. Clarisse is watching for the muscles in her shoulder to slack, the first sign that her arm will drop and-
"Wanna go to the lake with me later?" Tyson asks quietly.
"GO!"
The scarf falls.
Clarisse falls on her face.
Tyson is off like a rocket.
The sharp pain of debris on her cheek is enough to send Clarisse into a rage. She leaps to her feet, setting her sights on the broad shoulders halfway up the rebelling Wall, and lets loose a war-cry that is pure Ares.
"You slimy, barf-brained-!"
She can hear Percy Jackson cheering with laughter, and Grover's nervous bleat. Poor Laney has scuttled as far out of Clarisse's way as demi-godishly possible. But they aren't Clarisse's concern.
"I am going to KILL YOU, TYSON!"
Tyson makes the fatal mistake of glancing nervously down at her as she begins to claw her way up the wall. A piece of it pops out on a spring, like an old cartoon, and catches him in the chest. He flies past her, back down to earth, where all the air is slammed out of him. He wheezes with wide eyes and coughs as he rolls to his side.
If he hadn't just distracted her to get a head-start, she might have slowed down to see if he was okay. Maybe.
Okay, not really. Did she care about him? Sure. But this was competition. This was war. And war doesn't play nice.
She can hear the mechanics inside of the wall shifting around, following her. She cautiously edges over the place where Tyson had been sucker-punched by a board, but it doesn't move.
But then the gate shudders.
Clarisse has felt this once before, and seen it hundreds of times. Desperately, she sinks her fingers and toes into the gaps between the boards and flattens herself against the Wall.
It flips.
The whole world flips with it, from Clarisse's perspective, and her sea-sickness kicks up. "Oh gods. Oh Ares. Oh gods," she moans, willing it to stop, stop, STOP.
Surprisingly, it does.
But it isn't the smooth slow-down she's used to seeing, after all the people on it have been flung off of it and into orbit. No. It jerks and shudders and Clarisse peaks open one eye to see what's happening.
She's a little upside-down, so she has to look up to spot the bare feet sticking out from under the Wall.
Tyson. He's stopped the Wall. He was stopping it now, just holding it there, and waiting for her to climb down.
Unless...
"What are you waiting for?" she yells up, pressing herself miserably against the boards again. "Go ahead! You're in the Course. Go on!"
"Clarisse," he yells back. "You gotta get down first."
The Wall creaks belligerently; trying to continue its rotation, but Tyson braces his legs and holds it still.
"The minute I move, you're gonna let it go!" she yells back.
"What?" Tyson asks, confused. "Why would I do that?"
"DUH!" she says. "To win! Just like asking me if I wanted to go to the lake!"
"How does asking you to go to the lake help me win?" Tyson wonders. If she could open her eyes, she'd probably see his blink in confusion, that little wrinkle building between his eyebrows.
If she had the power to endure any more rolling, she'd roll her eyes.
"DID OR DID I NOT TEACH YOU DISTRACTION TECHNIQUES LAST WEEK?"
"YES," bellows Tyson, "BUT HOW DOES THAT- WHY WOULD I DO THAT TO YOU?"
Clarisse slips. She doesn't mean to, but she does. Her fingers are sweating and her stomach is churning and she's been upside down for a little too long with a little too much yelling. She falls forward, flipping in mid-air, hitting her limbs on the not-quite-perpendicular wall on the way down. She hits the ground. Hard. There's a sharp snapping sound. All the feeling races out of her left arm. And then all the feeling comes back with a vengeance.
She thinks she screams.
Okay, yeah. She's definitely screaming.
She's lying on her side, bent around her broken arm. Tyson is still holding up the Wall. She can see Percy Jackson racing to them with Riptide uncapped. Annabeth and Grover and the Twins and Laney are all right behind them. And her vision sort of tunnels around them, and she knows she's still screaming, but she feels totally Zen, just watching them run, all distorted and slow-motion, toward them.
And she can't really hear anything, but somehow, her eyes are super-powered right now and she can see Percy screaming, Hold on Tyson, just hold on. Wait for us to-
To what? Clarisse wonders, but she can't see Percy anymore. Instead, there's a Wall, slammed back into place, and a single blue eye in front of her, worried in the brow, speaking with the mouth, fading into a tunnel of darkness that swallows him whole.
OooOooOooOooO
She has a nightmare that she's riding a unicorn.
It's blue. And fluffy around its sparkling hooves. They're trotting around a magical candy land full of giggling fairies and cheery elves. Candy canes line the gumdrop road like striped trees. Then, with large, anime eyes, the unicorn turns around and bats it's impossible lashes at her.
"So much for glory, huh kid?" it asks.
Then it vomits up a rainbow river full of daisy-chains.
OooOooOooOooO
Clarisse jolts awake, feeling sick.
The unicorn motion continues.
"Oh gods, no..." she mutters, rubbing her face into the... dreadlocked mane? "Tyson?"
"Clarisse?" he asks gently, and she can feel his voice throughout the back she's leaning on. "How are you feeling?"
"Not so hot," she says. Which is funny, because she can feel how cool Tyson is against her. She's sweating like she just finished a triathlon. She wants to pull on her shirt because it's riding up her back, but one of her arms is tightly bound against her chest, and the other is tied around Tyson's neck. His hands are laced around her legs, holding her up as they piggyback through... "Where are we?"
"Not sure," he says. "Hopefully halfway, at least."
"Halfway?" she asks drowsily. The rocking motion of his step, while a little jarring, provides a mindless rhythm to sink back into.
"Halfway through the Course."
"Of course we are," she mutters.
They walk (well, Tyson walks) for a while, and Clarisse can feel herself drifting in and out. She begins to feel cold instead of hot, and she shivers uncontrollably against Tyson's back. At the same time, her left arm is on fire, and she feels like if she opens her mouth, she'll start screaming again. She forces her lips together and her eyes open and stares at the close-up of Tyson's matted hair, memorizing the color, the thickness, the way it fell from his topknot around his strong neck.
And maybe it's the fever, but after he hitches her up higher for the third time while he walks, she leans forward and presses a kiss to his neck just below his hairline, a little behind his ear. It's all the she can reach. But he doesn't stop or say anything or hesitate in any way, and it makes the kiss feel right, somehow. Acceptable. She smiles and rests her cheek against his neck, listening to his hammering heart as she dozes again.
OooOooOooOooO
There aren't any unicorns in this dream, but her dad is there, and Tyson is there, and so is this huge metal monster. Tyson is fighting it and Ares is yelling pointers, occasionally insulting because that's his idea of encouragement. And when the metal monster is shredded by Tyson's bare hands, Ares says, okay enough of that son of Poseidon time for the big leagues. A door opens on the other side that floods in the light and with the light come dozens and dozens of kids with orange t-shirts and weapons.
There's yelling and grabbing and Tyson.
And Clarisse thinks this is probably a little weirder than the unicorn dream.
And then Clarisse doesn't dream much at all.
OooOooOooOooO
Somebody puts a cool cloth over her forehead and she stirs.
"Tyson?" she asks, blinking awake.
Percy Jackson's green eyes grin down at her.
Her rival sits back on his chair so that the front legs are off of the floor. His black hair is mussed and his arms are crossed over his camp tee. Clarisse can see the blue ballpoint pen gripped in his right hand, like he was guarding her or something.
Clarisse's hand goes to the damp cloth. She rips it off and sits up, looking around.
"Welcome back to the medical cabin," Percy says cheerfully. "Been a while, huh? How's your arm?"
"My arm?" She realizes her left fist is pressed against her heart, and she wiggles her fingers a little. "It's better. Where's Tyson?"
"Sleeping," he says firmly. He leans forward so that all four chair legs hit the floorboards. "Congratulations, by the way, for making history."
"History," Clarisse says. Her brain is still cottony, and she's not exactly in the mood for guessing games. "Jackson..."
He holds up his hands.
"History. You know- being the first person to make it all the way through the course?"
Clarisse gapes at him. "Who did what?"
"The course. You. First person through. Holy Hera, just how hard did you hit the ground?"
"I was unconscious for most of it," Clarisse argues. "Tyson was the one who made it through. I was just along for the ride."
"Your dad disagrees," Percy grimaces.
"Huh?"
"He sorta blocked the course so that none of us- not even Mr. D or Chiron- could get in to help you guys. Ares just showed up and said that he was gonna make sure it went down on the records that 'Ares was the god who beat Hephaestus' mousetrap.' Or something like that, anyway. I guess he's still pretty sore about the whole Aphrodite-love-affair-caught-in-a-net-thing. But yeah. He led Tyson through, gave him hints on how to beat parts, told him which way to turn and all that. Then after Tyson beat the course, he made sure that you were the first one out.
"So," Percy finishes a little lamely. "So, yeah. Congrats."
Which makes Clarisse feel... angry? Humiliated? Ashamed? She barely cares, shoving all that to the side.
"Is Tyson okay?"
"He's fine," Percy assures her. He lights up with pride. "Takes more than that to knock out a son of Poseidon! A little scratched, a lot worried, but he's okay. He told me to tell you that's he's coming back to visit you later."
Clarisse falls back on the pillows, jostling her arm and staring up at the ceiling.
"What?" asks Percy. "Aren't you, I dunno, gleeful or something? Do Ares kids do gleeful?"
"Oh yeah, Jackson," Clarisse says. "We belch freaking rainbows."
"Neat." Percy shifts on his chair for a moment, twirling the pen between his fingers like he's trying to remember a really difficult test question, but can't quite remember what it is. "Listen... Clarisse. My brother is- Well, he's definitely tough enough to make it through an obstacle course from Hades, but you know as well as I do that he's a pushover."
And there is that stupid shame again.
"I thought he was trying to distract me for the upper hand on the course," she admits.
"Tyson doesn't think like that."
"But I do!" Blood rushes to her face, familiar in anger. "I think like that! Gods, Jackson, I can't stop it! I'm this uber-competitive, ultra-paranoid, war-game addict or something."
Percy nods awkwardly. "Hey, at least you realize it."
She scoffs.
"No really," he says. "If you realize it, and you don't like it, then you can catch it before it becomes a problem."
"This stupid emotional crap is not something I'm good with," she says.
"So don't think of it as emotional," Percy interjects. He stands and brushes the front of his jeans, tucking the pen into his back pocket as the sounds of footsteps approach the cabin. "Think of it like a civil war you can't afford to lose."
She wants to reply, say something snappy, but Percy disappears behind the daughters of Demeter who are rushing in to check Clarisse for fever or injury or any last shred of self-respect.
OooOooOooOooO
When Tyson comes to visit her, Clarisse makes sure she's sitting up and waiting for him.
She had brushed her hair out and braided it and pulled the blankets up to her chest, where her arms are crossed. She's sure she looks a little foreboding, but that can't be helped. That's just the way her face gets when she's thinking.
He stops in the doorway, filling it completely. His hair is down again, and his eye is huge in his face. He smiles when he sees that she's awake, and without having to think much, she finds herself smiling back.
"You're awake!" He states the obviously happily, stepping twice so that he's standing over her. He leans way, way down to hug her gently around her shoulders, then sits on the bed behind him, which gives a wary groan. "Percy said you were feeling much, much better. I was here for a day or two, but then Chiron said he absolutely needed to speak with me and I had to go, but I think I musta fallen asleep or something because it was day again when I woke up and he said that I could come and see you as soon as you woke up."
He stops for breath, beaming. "I'm glad you're okay."
Here is the struggle again. "Jacks- I mean- Percy said you got us through the obstacle course."
He ducks his head. "Yeah. Your dad helped a lot."
"Thanks," she says. Her voice cracks a little. She wants to say something more, something a lot more flowery and adoring, but she can't force it out. "I'm glad you're okay, too," she says instead.
Tyson's face flushes. He brings his hands together and twists them a little.
"And I'm sorry that I thought you were trying to trick me to win," Clarisse adds. "I can be... really, really into competitions. Sometimes I get carried away by it all. But I should know that you're too great a guy to do that."
"It's not because I'm a great guy," Tyson blushes. "It's because I think you're a great girl."
No, Clarisse is not blushing. That is definitely her fever kicking back in. Stop trying to read into things.
Still.
"That's very nice of you to say." So what if her voice sounds a little more floaty than usual?
Tyson swallows and hesitates. Then, very slowly he leans over again and presses his lips very, very carefully against her cheek. When he pulls away, they're both a little dizzy, and Clarisse lets out a sound that could technically be described as a giggle.
"So, um." Tyson stands abruptly, bustling. He tries to back out the door but manages to kick over a few chairs and beds on the way. "So, congratulations. On winning."
He smiles one more time, then leaves.
Clarisse stares after him for a long time, feeling the ghost of his kiss against her burning skin.
"Yeah," she says after a while. "Yeah, I guess I did win."
Which is about a million times cooler when she realizes that she's won him.
A/N: Again, I love (and, honestly, prefer) the books, and I know Clarisse usually goes with Chris, but these stupid plots won't stop coming to me. Also, any and all Percy-bashing is written in good fun. I love Percy, but Clarisse isn't exactly part of his fan club, and this is from her point-of-view, so he'll probably strike you as an idiot. Which he sort of is. But we love him anyway.
Thanks so much for reading, guys! We need a little more Tyrisse (or is it Clyson?) in the world. Honestly, how is there not MORE of this stuff out there?
Questions? Comments? Witty remarks? Leave them via PM or review.
As Always,
-Tonzura123