Hey Everyone! Here's a small one-shot I made a few months ago. Enjoy :)
I should've been crying. Hell, I should've been sobbing on the floor, unable to breathe, choking on my own tears. But I felt nothing. It felt like my heart was suddenly transformed into a hollow rock, devoid of emotion.
My suit was uncomfortably tight, it was Percy's after all. I didn't really have a suit. He gave it to me with dark red rimmed eyes, extending a shaky arm with an unsure smile.
Piper gave me a light blue bow tie to wear. It hung limply on the dining table on the Big House. Nobody ever taught me how to wear a tie or a bowtie. I never needed it. My idea of formal clothing was a toga for the senate meetings.
I sat down on a dusty box, the setting sun streaming through the windows. The coffin was white, its soft glow making it seem like a layer of clouds settled around it.
My memories still kept coming back even after the war, small niblets of information. I could remember Thalia's warm smile, her flurries of kisses, how she held me in the darkest of nights as I screamed about the nightmares that plagued any young demigod's mind.
I heard small scuffling noises far away. Footsteps grew louder until they were right at the door.
"Jason," Annabeth's strong voice was, surprisingly weak, broken.
I glanced up at her, her eyes red rimmed, blonde hair a mess. "It's okay. You can come in," I whispered, mostly to myself. I didn't want to break the silence. I wanted to stay in it forever.
Annabeth's black dress flowed behind her as she walked in carefully, as if she dreaded each step she took. She reached out to the coffin, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it.
"I'm sorry." Her voice was so raw, and full of emotion that it made me want to go and give her a hug.
"I'm okay," I repeated, slowly, reiterating each letter. My voice sounded unfamiliar, like something I might've heard years ago. It was loud, strong, powerful. Controlling. Something that would come from a wary leader, whose role was to reassure others rather than comfort himself. It was a tone I hadn't heard from myself in ages.
I guess old habits die hard. I stared at the floor.
Annabeth walked to me with a bittersweet smile, and picked up the bowtie, motioning me to stand up. I did as told. Path of least resistance.
She wrapped the bowtie around my neck, slowly tying it as I looked up at the bright white ceiling.
"She loved you Jason. From the bottom of her heart. She never believed you were gone or dead for a second," Annabeth said softly.
I kept avoiding her intimidating gray eyes, so that they wouldn't be so intelligent and look into the depths of my soul.
"When we were on the run, she would carry a photograph of you, showing it to any person she found, asking if they ever saw you. I never knew who it was in the picture, but it was you all along."
I pressed my hands to my thighs so that Annabeth wouldn't see that they started shaking.
Annabeth paused, staring at my finished bowtie for what seemed like minutes, before she spoke again.
"I get it."
"Get what?" I asked, confused.
"Standing straight, looking tall, not letting them see you weak. Biting back those nasty remarks and fighting down the tears. Walking past your best friend's dead body as if nothing happened, because that's the only way they will listen to you."
Something in what she said hit home. When years ago, having to walk away when somebody managed to crush Reyna's words to dust, and she so desperately needed me to have her back. But praetors don't stay behind for anyone. No, they plow onwards, looking at the can't afford to show weakness, and friends are always somebody's biggest weakness.
My chest clenched tightly, but I did what I always did by instinct. Reyna's words seemed to be whispering straight into my ear. Think straight. Straight like an arrow. Keep your emotions and expressions separate.
"But you had an emotional outlet. Reyna. You both told each other everything, and you unloaded all your feelings on her, and she did the same with you."
Why did Annabeth have to be so smart?
There were countless times, when Reyna walked away from a Senate assembly, seemingly normal, only to fall into my arms in tears when nobody could see us. Or the times when Octavian would insult my mother, telling everyone how she was a vile woman who didn't deserve a god as a husband, and I would run to Reyna, who would soothe me and tell me that none of it was true.
"After the prophecy, you're now just alone. You and Reyna don't share the same connection, and both of you know that nothing can repair it. Piper might be your girlfriend, but it's not the same. A friend and a girlfriend are two different things."
My throat closed, and my vision blurred.
"Jason, let somebody in. Anybody. Create your outlet, or you're gonna grow to be a bitter old man, mourning the death of his sister for decades."
At her words, the tears rolled down my cheeks. Annabeth held my tightly, as I fell into her open arms.
"Why did she have to leave?" I begged, while she rubbed my back.
"Jason, she died heroically. She fell in battle, sacrificing her own life for 200 maidens. Her death was not in vain."
"Then why are you so calm? You were her best friend." I couldn't hold back the accusatory, jealous tone in my voice. I felt myself shaking, the anger bringing a new round of tears to my eyes. I was her brother. And yet I barely knew anything about her.
"Jason, I hate to say it, but I've already attended her funeral. Years ago when Zeus turned her into a tree. It doesn't hurt any less now, but it's a feeling I'm all too familiar with." Her voice was cool and collected, full of confidence.
She pulled a small piece of paper from a drawer, and put it into my hands.
"She carried it everywhere. It's only fair that she's buried with it too," Annabeth said sadly, and left.
I glanced at the picture, and there was a 6 year old girl, with bright blue eyes, dark hair falling in her eyes smirking at the camera, and a small 2 year old boy. Bright blonde hair, and the same clear eyes.
I walked to the coffin, and opened it, daring to see her face. Her fierce smile, the complete opposite of mine. Her dark, black hair, now almost to her waist. But her eyes, I'd never see them again. Or maybe I do see them, every time I looked in a mirror.
I took her cold hand, and placed the tiny photograph in her palm, and slowly put her hand back where it was.
I reached for the door, about to close it.
"I loved you too, Thals."
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