Hey, ya'll! It's time once again for a fanfiction from me, though this one is a step in a new direction. This one, as you've probably read, focuses on Luke and his story, with a healthy dose of Thalia/Luke for fun. They're such a strong couple; one of my favorite quotes concerning them is from sistergrimmel: "Fate fell short this time." She speaks the truth, but this fic is here to remedy that a bit.
Thanks, once again, icy roses, for beta-ing; your helpful feedback and sensible suggestions are always much appreciated. As are reviews from you readers out there!
Enjoy!
Facing Himself
(Or, A Journey to Elysium and Beyond)
Summary: A Luke-centric story, from pre-series to post-series. Thalia/Luke.
"Look. (Grown-ups skip this paragraph.) I'm not about to tell you this book has a tragic ending, I already said in the very first line how was my favorite in all the world. But there's a lot of bad stuff coming." —William Goldman, The Princess Bride
x-x-x-x-x
Luke was a man of many faces. Maybe it came with the territory of being a Son of Hermes, the most mischievous god. Or maybe he was just different, a different kind of guy. He wasn't sure himself.
x-x-x-x-x
"My youth is escaping without giving me anything it owes me." —Ivy Compton-Burnett
(i) innocent
In the beginning, he had a child's face. His sandy blond hair was cut in the short, classic little boys' style, and his upturned nose almost-but-not-quite distracted new acquaintances from his massive buckteeth. Luke's chubby cheeks usually beamed as he became a toddler, but his azure eyes squeezed shut in terror increasingly often as he grew up.
x-x-x-x-x
"We spend our lives trying to impress those who impress us the most."
(ii) lighthearted
After escaping his house (which seemed to Luke more like an insane asylum), Luke ran into Thalia Grace. He had never met anyone like that girl before, and he found himself trying to show off for her as they took control of their own lives.
"And...we're in," Luke announced in a pseudo-deep voice. Beaming, he glanced up to the Safeway sign on the front of the building and strolled in past the locks and security system he'd just disabled.
"I still think it would've been worth the ten minutes it took you to just break the glass," Thalia mumbled, but she followed Luke all the same.
While Luke juggled fruit in the produce section and mocked every one of Thalia's favorite bands, there was no denying that they had something together—something they'd never had apart. At their first meeting, Thalia'd been hardened and closed to any attempt at humor; Luke hadn't been able to think beyond his next meal. She brought stability to him and he brought life to her. That was the way it was supposed to be.
x-x-x-x-x
"Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is knowing not to put one in a fruit salad."
(iii) brooding
Of course, it wasn't that easy.
At Camp Half-Blood, he knew Thalia wasn't coming back; even so, he chose not to follow Annabeth's example and use wisdom to move on. That kid seemed to make all the right choices, but this one was just too hard to him to pick. As a result, he retreated closer and closer to himself, until the quest.
The quest was supposed to be his redemption, his attempt to show he was more than part of the group with that girl who was now a pine tree.
It was a bit of that, definitely, but not in the way he'd prayed for.
His failed quest attracted attention, from the camp and from the gods. But it was negative attention, and pity—that was what they gave him. Pity.
Failure. What a bitter word.
x-x-x-x-x
"When nobody will look at you, you can stare a hole in them. Picking out all the little details you'd never stare long enough to get if they'd ever just return your gaze, this, this is your revenge." —Chuck Palahniuk
(iv) vengeful
And look at them he did. He discovered every little weakness, every niche in Camp Half-Blood's broad armor.
The sad thing was, he enjoyed it.
The only problem: he was just one man. (He counted himself as a man now, because, really—after everything he'd seen and done—didn't he deserve it?)
Even he was wise enough to know a lone man couldn't bring down Olympus, no matter how great his anguish. No matter how strong his will.
It was only one problem, but without sidestepping it, he knew he'd get nowhere. So—he thought on it all day. He was good enough and tough enough to ace all of the camp's activities without putting an ounce of brainpower into them, and that was just another reason to hate: he was better than the whole lot of them, and where was his credit?
Well. The answer didn't come that day, or the next. The answer came from a voice—in the night.
x-x-x-x-x
"Happy days are here again..." —J. Yellen and M. Ager
(v) hopeful
He'd always harbored dreams of going back to the good old days; now the only other person he needed to make them come true was standing right in front of him. He wished with all of his beaten-down heart she would leave the Olympians and join him forever.
Surely the strongest girl he'd ever known could help him pull out a win over the hacked-up Titan Lord.
Surely she'd be willing to try.
x-x-x-x-x
"Twice tried, twice hung, twice buried." —J. Raven
(vi) hardened
Luke retreated further and further away from Olympus now that he'd been turned away by the only one he decided he'd really ever loved. He'd fallen in love with the same powerful girl twice and been denied both times. He figured there was nowhere to go but downhill.
During their short-lived reunion, he'd seen the pain in her electric eyes, the only way he knew her emotions leaked out. He'd always had plans of leaving Kronos, eventually, once he had enough power, and she was the only one he wanted to be with him then...but she had turned her leather-jacketed back on him. Again.
This was the last straw, he decided. He would be with Thalia or destroy her, his only weakness. She'd already made the choice for him.
x-x-x-x-x
"Nobody did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices." —Alfred Montapert
(vii) imploring
"Annabeth, this can work. This will work. We'll find Thalia, and Kronos will never know what hit him. I know how he operates. And if you don't help me now..." Luke looked away.
She stood in her house's doorway for a long moment.
"What about Percy?" She raised an eyebrow.
He didn't answer.
She shut the door.
x-x-x-x-x
"A desire to be in charge of our own lives, a need for control, is born in each of us. It is essential to our mental health, and our success, that we take control." —Robert Foster Bennett
(viii) dead
It almost felt like he was in that chamber at the end of The Master of Disguise. His body was him, but another him was in the coffin. He was being prepared one piece at a time to be Kronos, even if his other body wasn't completely whole yet.
He had a million questions.
Later, he awoke. Or rather, his body awoke, and his consciousness was still reeling. He felt as if he were half-asleep, and the events his physical eyes saw were just channeled through his body to his subconscious.
Weird. He wasn't sure he liked this.
You know, it just figured that Percy would be there—it was supposed to be the pinnacle of his service to the Titan Lord, but Percy's inferior redhead friend had ruined the event with her weird hairbrush.
Who carries around a blue hairbrush, anyway?
x-x-x-x-x
"The coldest heart can be brought to life / When it's thrown into the fire of goodbye." —The Classic Crime, The Coldest Heart
(ix) awakened
Ethan and countless others were dead. Olympus was ending. Kronos was going to take over.
He couldn't believe he'd let it get this bad.
Hadn't he expected this? Hadn't he craved this? He knew he had.
Then what was wrong?
This was goodbye, he realized. Everyone he'd ever really cared about, including himself...he smelled smoke and looked down at his body. An eerie light played over the ruined marble floor around him, and wisps of smoke rose from his breastplate.
This was the final goodbye.
His mind went to Thalia—she'd always been better than him. Older, faster, more helpful, just—better. She was stronger, too. He used to resent her for it, but now he found himself wishing they could trade places.
She wouldn't have let this happen. She would've ended this long ago.
Well, even if they couldn't trade places, he could do the right thing. To honor her.
He would end it. All of it.
He steeled himself and slowly took the knife. He struggled against the Titan, and for once, he gained control. He cringed as he felt the dagger slide in—it was intense and excruciating, but also hugely gratifying.
He mentally let her (her...there was only one her to him) into his life again, knowing that she would finally love him and be proud of him again.
After all the years of guilt and conflicting emotions, he could finally come clean.
He could finally face himself, and her.
x-x-x-x-x
"You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." —John Lennon
(x) ethereal
When he goes, he makes a stop before reaching the Underworld. He's a Son of Hermes (he curses himself for denying it so many times), after all, and his father lets him take a detour.
He walks (floats?) toward Thalia and lifts Hera's statue. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be able to do that—but then again, there wasn't much he'd done in his life that he was supposed to be able to do.
He watches Thalia's eyes widen at his flickering figure. He knows she's seeing him as he once was, without a scar and without a hardened glint in his eyes, and he knows that they're meant to be.
She gets up, and her eyes still haven't blinked, as if she's making sure what she's seeing is what she thinks she's seeing. Abruptly, she springs forward and lets out a cry.
They're face to face, girl to ghost. And he sees in her eyes that she really loves him. All this was worth it. Resolution floods his being.
"Wait for me." He stares at her with a yearning look.
She nods and chokes out, "I will."
He nods back, eyes still locked on hers...
And he fades.