For the Nine Muses competition on PJFC.

Dedicated to my lovely friend DancingChestnut, whose birthday is today. Have a great year ahead, buddy. You're the best. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

X

"Don't kill him!"

Seven-year-old Annabeth Chase sprinted out onto the meadow. She had just been enjoying a perfectly great nap under the shade of the tree, before the sound of clashing metal had jolted her awake. Now, she watched in horror as her best friend. Thalia, held her other best friend, Luke, at sword-point, Luke's own sword kicked far away.

At the sound of Annabeth's voice, Thalia lowered her sword and the two of them turned toward her.

Annabeth was frozen in shock. Sure, Thalia and Luke fought plenty of times - well, usually Thalia did the yelling, and Luke did the deadpanned eye-rolling - but never like this. Never like they were actually going to hurt each other. Annabeth was seven, but she was a daughter of Athena. She was smart. She knew that deep down, Thalia and Luke liked each other. So why would Thalia -

"Why... You... Why did you want to kill him?"

A flush of anger started to creep up her neck as what she had just seen slowly set in. She glared at Thalia, voice rising as she shouted.

"Luke's our friend!"

Then, there was one of those bizarre, totally unpredictable change of events in which logical sense and context were thrown out of the window. Thalia and Luke looked at each other and both of them burst out laughing. Thalia came over, still smiling, and stroked Annabeth's hair.

"Oh, Annabeth, we were just teaching each other fighting techniques. We were just practicing."

"Oh." Annabeth suddenly felt incredibly stupid. She winced, embarrassment curling warmly around her ears and face, turning them bright red. She hated feeling stupid. She was the daughter of Athena. She hated getting things wrong. It was the worst sort of embarrassment.

"We can teach you some new stuff too, when you get a bit bigger and we find more weapons," Thalia said, face splitting into a grin. "And about the thing about killing him... Thanks for the suggestion!"

Thalia winked at her, and in spite of herself, Annabeth laughed.

X

"Don't kill him!"

Annabeth had never seen Thalia so angry. Sure, there were times when Thalia got in a mood and raged at the sky, demanding that her father answer her. There were also times when Annabeth or Luke - mostly Luke - used up more supplies than Thalia deemed necessary, and Thalia yelled that they were idiotic morons, had they no sense, they'd be dead within the next three days and it'll be all their faults! Never like this, though. Thalia's face was so flushed it was almost purple. Her hair had made a bird's nest by her trembling, wild hands. Her whole body was taut, every line solidified into a dangerous threat as she launched herself at Luke and punched him hard in the face.

Thalia was screaming something, so loud that Annabeth's cry went unheard. Her hands had grasped Luke's shoulders, fingers clenched so tight they looked ragged in the light of the sun above, and she was shaking him so hard that Annabeth genuinely feared that Luke's head might just fall off.

"You stupid - useless - fool - Luke - Castellan - I - I'd -"

Her voice was shriller than Annabeth had ever heard. She seemed frenzied, hysterical. Never before had Annabeth seen Thalia so out of control. Luke was also yelling in shock, trying to dislodge Thalia's hands which were digging ruthlessly into his shoulders. Their voices spun, explosively loud across the quiet alleyway.

Annabeth rushed forward and reached for Thalia, trying to tug her away from Luke, but Thalia knocked her away and screamed even louder.

"Didn't I tell you not to go after it? Didn't I tell you that we could easily have escaped it?! Didn't I tell you that you could have died? Didn't I? DIDN'T I?!"

Thalia was breathless. Annabeth could hear her quickened panting, could almost feel the bruises that were bound to be blossoming on Luke's shoulders.

"You said you wouldn't! You said you wouldn't! I told you that I'd be the one to go after it if the time came! DIDN'T I?"

"We couldn't have gotten away from it, Thalia!" Luke shouted, and Annabeth was glad that he was at least trying to protest. "It was too close! That Great Hellhound - it had been trained to follow and kill you, the daughter of Zeus. You would have died if you'd went after it!"

Thalia's surprise was so great it rendered her speechless. Annabeth finally managed to tug her away from Luke, who stood, massaging his shoulders and staring warily at Thalia. For a moment, Thalia simply stood there, panting, goggling at Luke, who opened his hands and smiled in a weak attempt at bravado.

"I killed it, didn't I, Thalia? And I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Thalia wheeled around. Before either of the other two could speak, she folded her arms tightly over her chest and stomped off, footsteps echoing loudly in the humming quiet of the deserted alley.

Luke turned to Annabeth and smiled weakly, shaking his head at the frightened expression on her face.

"It's alright," he told her. "We both know it's because she loves me, really."

X

"Don't kill..."

Annabeth's voice trailed away.

In the silver glow of the almost-full moon above, she could see their two silhouettes quite distinctly, dark shapes against the diluted blue-black backdrop, leaning against another side of the large tree they had set up camp at, curved and twisted together and moving. For a moment, Annabeth had panicked, thinking that Thalia was trying to strangle Luke. It looked that way from her position, anyway.

That was before she realized that they were kissing.

Heat curled, hot and smarting around Annabeth's ears. The sky was mainly dark, with a pale moon hovering in the middle. The ground was littered with shadows cast by the arcing shapes of the trees overhead, and Annabeth buried her face into her sleeping bag, burning with embarrassment, but also taking deep, gulping breaths at the immense relief that she had not been seen.

She could hear them, though, now that she knew what was going on. A slick, sucking sound, a sigh and oh gods of Olympus, she really did not need to have that imagine stuck in her mind.

The next morning, Luke greeted her with a pack of biscuits and asked if she'd slept well. Annabeth just blushed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the way Luke's gaze followed Thalia as she got to her feet and stretched, watched Thalia shoot him a stealthy smile and, almost imperceptibly, wink.

x

Camp Half-Blood was cloudless and full of smiles, strawberries, barbecue, and all the things Annabeth might have dreamed of. Campers who claimed they understood them called themselves things like friends and family.

It was wrong, though. All wrong.

The strawberries did not taste as sweet as they were supposed to. Sometimes, the barbecue tasted more like cardboard than anything. The smiles were over-bright, blinding, and Annabeth just had to look away. The campers were not friends, not family.

They were not Thalia. The tree was not Thalia either. It was all wrong.

Everything was too bright.

Sometimes, though, Annabeth fancied that she could still Thalia, laughing alongside Luke's siblings during dinner, sparring with the Ares campers, propped up on one elbow in the bunk bed just across from Annabeth's in the Athena cabin. The first time she did, she had gasped and grabbed Luke's arm, babbling uncomprehensively in her shock. When she swiveled around and pointed, though, Thalia had disappeared without a trace.

Luke had held her, afterward, stroking her hair, and told her that Thalia was gone, that Thalia could never come back. All Annabeth had heard were the cracks in Luke's voice as he had said Thalia's name, the way his voice had flickered around the edges, as though he was trying to convince himself as well as Annabeth.

She knew Luke was right. She knew that Thalia was all just in her head, but that did not lighten the dead weight that had dropped back into her chest when Luke had told her that Thalia would never come back. So Annabeth cuddled up against Luke's chest and pressed her head into his shoulder, because Luke understood. Luke knew. There had been a time when someone had said something - Annabeth did not remember - that had ended up with them laughing madly for half an hour straight until their cheeks ached and chest burned, even though there had been nothing remotely funny about anything. Luke had been there.

Annabeth saw him once, after dinner in the gathering twilight when he thought no one was looking. The sky was a soft, glowing blanket, the last rays of light scattered across the it in a faded blue wash as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. There he was: Luke, silhouette dark against the backdrop, leaning against the tree that was Thalia. His head was cradled against a low branch, his arms wrapped diagonally round the trunk. Crouched behind a bush, Annabeth was close enough to see the look in his eyes. There was no grief. No longing. Instead, Luke just looked hollow.

Annabeth looked away.

She hated the way Luke's body seemed to sag, as though all the life had been drained out of him. Luke had survived a battle with an entire pack of dracaenae all by himself. (Thalia had screamed and punched him afterward, and kissed him, full on the laughing mouth.) He had fought through poisons, and even that terrible, gaping wound in his leg that had plagued Annabeth's nightmares for weeks. (Thalia had been there, gentle fingers brushing Annabeth's fringe back from her sweaty brow, holding Annabeth even after she had babbled herself back to sleep.) Luke had held her too, all the nights these past few weeks. Luke had been brave and courageous and strong.

Luke was strong. He was not supposed to be this lifeless.

Annabeth looked away.

That was when she saw Thalia. In front of her, just a few feet away, shimmering like a mirage, like a ghost, like an angel. She was not looking at Annabeth, instead, staring out across at the silhouette of Luke, huddled against the lone figure of her pine tree. She was wearing her favorite shirt, the black one with the grinning skulls and lightning bolts. Her favorite sword was strapped to her side.

"Thalia?" Annabeth whispered. Thalia did not move, did not make any sign that she had heard Annabeth.

Annabeth's legs itched with the need to run to her. She wanting to throw herself at her best friend, to feel Thalia's hand gripping hers, hear Thalia's scathing laugh, (really, kiddo, did you really believe I was dead?), have Thalia and Luke and her eat barbecue together, (together, together, together, once again), beneath that brilliant sunset Annabeth had not been able to appreciate.

The smell of her.

The safety of her embrace.

Thalia. Thalia. Thalia.

But Thalia was not real. It was all just in her head. Thalia could never come back. Thalia was gone.

The worst thing was that Luke was leaving too.

Luke was fading away, away from everyone, away from Annabeth, fading into that hunch-backed, lifeless thing he wasn't. Everything was fading, shifting, like whorls of smoke swirling behind Annabeth's eyes, a dizzying, never stopping, blinding mass of movement. Luke and Thalia were too good to be true. Thalia was dead. Luke was dying too. Annabeth was going to lose him, too, worse than ever before, and she'd be alone again, alone with these strange campers and a strange new place where the sun shone too bright for her eyes remain focused.

Don't kill him, she whispered. He's all I have, Thalia...

She blinked, and Thalia was gone.

(Luke came back to her, slowly. His smiles were broader and deeper, appearing more frequently. He settled into camp along with Annabeth and their respective siblings. His eyes regained their light, their determination. The dizzying colours stopped swirling across Annabeth's vision. Gradually, it all became better.

Then, just like that, he was gone.)

A year later, Thalia was back, on a hazy morning where shadows leapt and slid as though through murky water. Thalia was taller, older. Her eyes and hands were uncoordinated, and she stared at Annabeth as though she had come from another world. Annabeth looked away.

X

Silver flashed in the periphery of Annabeth's vision, along with the chaos of the battle around her. Luke's shirt was tattered and torn. His skin was pale and ragged, his hair like that of an old man's.

But his eyes - his eyes were blue. Blue - as blue as Annabeth's blue, blue as the sky Annabeth stared up into all those years ago, lying in an empty meadow with him and Thalia, or in a deserted alleyway - homeless, but more at home than she ever had been. They were not silver, not gold, not anything else. Blue.

There was a terrible gash on Luke's cheek. His hands were shaking as he raised them in front of him. His face was a white, haggard blur. Thalia had backed him to the edge of the cliff, spear pointed straight at his throat. As she turned, Annabeth could see her face. Thalia's face was taut, every line poised in a strung, violent threat. Her arms were shaking with fury, and the look in her eyes was deranged, mad.

"Don't kill him!"

Annabeth's whole body ached with tiredness, throbbing with the residual pain of the past, nightmarish week. Nevertheless, she scrambled over to Thalia with all the strength she could manage. Her legs screamed in protest. Her vision blurred, but all she could think was that Thalia was going to kill Luke like she did those monsters she overcame, like Luke was a monster. Luke was not a monster.

He had trapped Annabeth, had tricked her, and was trying to kill her friends. He was fighting for Kronos now, had committed all those terrible, terrible, acts on the Titan lord's behalf, but Annabeth knew that he was not a monster - was not, could not -

Just as when Luke fell, his body broken and small as a rag doll, Luke was not - could not be dead. The idea was surreal, far-fetched, even.

Annabeth knew that Percy thought she was hanging on to blind hope - but Percy did not understand anything. Thalia would never kill Luke. She would... never.

X

In the end, Annabeth reflected, long after when Luke was gone and Thalia was far, far away, it perhaps was Thalia who had killed Luke. It had been Thalia, and perhaps Annabeth, and Percy, of course, and the rest of the family Luke still had. It had mostly been Thalia, though, Annabeth was sure. Perhaps everything was about Thalia.

Luke had died once for Thalia - eyes burning golden, face twisted into the unrecognizable thing that just wasn't him.

Luke had died another time for Thalia, this time with blue eyes, to live on.