Friend

The ride down the Olympian elevator was tortuously long. The easy listening music combined with the extreme stress, exhaustion, and battle wounds he had amassed over the past few days had him ready to beat his own brains out on a wall.

It also gave him way too much time to think.

Stepping out of the elevator on the ground floor of the empire state building, he completely ignored the desk clerk who scowled at him, and walked outside into the bustle of New York. He didn't pause to avoid the post-disaster traffic, didn't even blink when taxis honked and swerved around him. When random strangers didn't move out of his way he just pushed past them and let their curses fade into the background.

They had lost the war; everyone he cared about was going to be punished in one way or another.

He almost wanted to get hit by a car.

All of his troops had been left at the United Nations Plaza. The enemy had decided it was safer to keep them there than anywhere else near possible weaponry or escape routes. His lieutenant Brandon met him as he walked, under guard, into the plaza.

"You may go." Alabaster told his escorts.

One of them, an Ares' child judging by the brutish look on his face, sneered.

"We don't answer to you runt. You lost, and you have no power now."

For a moment Alabaster considered magically burning the kid's face off, but decided against it due to current circumstances.

"Just go."

They left, but not without taunts thrown over their shoulders. Brandon joined him as he walked through the doors of the building.

"What did they say?" He asked breathlessly, referring to the mandatory meeting the gods had held on Olympus.

Alabaster pulled him into a nearby office, closing the door behind them. It was probably best to get the bad news out now and as bluntly as possible. No use sugar-coating anything.

"I have to leave."

"What?" Brandon's face paled. "Why? Where to? For how long? What about the rest of us?"

Alabaster ran his good hand over his face and through his hair.

"All titan-affiliated demigods are allowed to join the camp on Long Island providing you remain on good behavior. But they believe that I will corrupt you all though so I am too much of a threat. I have to leave forever and not have contact with any of you. As to the where, I don't know yet."

Brandon cursed and kicked the garbage pail, scattering tissues, candy wrappers and coke bottles all over the floor. He crossed his arms across his armored chest, and stared out the little office window. Alabaster sat down on a corner of the desk.

"We can't do this without you Al. How are we to be expected to change things without our primary leaders?" His tone was dull, lifeless.

"You aren't expected to change things. They want you to settle for the status quo, you will live in the cabins, fight monsters, try and make friends, and you will live to the ripe old age of thirty-five."

Brandon looked at him, "You have got to be kidding me." He scoffed.

Alabaster shook his head. "Everything I just told you is what I was told. They said they will build new cabins, they will welcome everyone." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Brandon, I need you to go too."

Brandon made to protest but he cut him off.

"I need someone to keep the others together, to protect them from getting hurt by the godlings, especially the little ones. Someone I trust needs to be there to ensure that all promises are carried out. It sounds good enough, but who can trust the gods? Please, Brandon."

His friend's shoulders dropped at the pleading in his tone.

"Fine. I'll do it Al, but don't expect me to like it."

Alabaster hugged Brandon, wishing that it wasn't for the last time. He would spend the rest of his days on the run, though he doubted there would be many more. Then he stepped away and left his best friend standing there in a stranger's office, closing the door behind him. He only made it a few steps before he had to lean against a pillar for support, all the adrenaline, stress, and tension that had been building for months suddenly crashed in around him, leaving him empty. All his life, he had striven for something more, something bigger. Now every dream of a new and different life had been stripped away. He felt as if he were left naked, under a freezing wind.

His vision blurred and his whole body wrenched as a gaping wound seemed to be opened on his very soul. He hit the ground hard, barely able to see the Hermes kid that darted over and started yelling for help, yelling medical terms that did not register in Alabaster's fevered brain.

He closed his eyes slowly, shutting out a world that was in the process of shutting him out.