Disclaimer: I do not own PJO, HOO, or any characters from either series. I only own the plot of this story.
Earth. Air. Fire. Water. Mind. Heart. Body. Soul.
Nothing would ever be the same. She would never see her home again. She would never get to see him again. No.
After all, how does one convince her mother to not move thousands of miles away once said mother's mind was made up? So all she could do was wave goodbye, tell him she loved him and would never forget him, and get on the train to leave.
But it was as the tears were falling from her eyes and blurring her vision, as the train just started to pull away, that she looked down at the last gift he ever gave her. It was a small potted plant, with a single budding flower. She gently caressed it with her finger, whispering, "We'll be alright. Just you see." Before her eyes, the bud began to open up, revealing a beautiful flower. It continued to grow, defying logic, the stem branching off to form two more flowers.
She looked up to her mother, to see if she noticed, but of course, her mother was turned away, convincing another fool to buy into her fortune-telling nonsensical voodoo. Sighing, she turned back to the window once again, just in time to see a cone hat labeled DUNCE bobbing on top of a sea of curls, for the last time ever.
It happened during a summer storm. He was just walking along on his way after an argument with his now ex-girlfriend Drew when suddenly a thunderstorm started brewing, forming out of nowhere. He sped up, trying to make the last few blocks to his apartment, because he didn't want to get caught in the storm when the downpour began.
He'd jinxed himself. As soon as the thought passed through his mind, he was drenched from his blonde hair to his purple shirt to his Nike shoes. Thunder was rumbling over the loud city sounds of L.A.
He felt a sudden burst of energy run through his body, almost like the adrenaline rush he got during a track race, but even stronger. He felt powerful. A split second later, it stopped. He didn't feel any different than he did before it happened, but when he looked down the ground was burnt and blackened. What just happened? Did he do that?
He decided to worry about it later, and he jogged the rest of the way home.
He never liked Aunt Tia, and she never liked him. After his mother died in her field, he was put into her care. Many days he wondered why he didn't just run away from it all, run away from her. Then logic answered him, saying If you run away, the child services will just bring you back. He couldn't argue with logic.
But eventually, it was too much. He couldn't handle it anymore. So he packed his bag with everything he would need, stole a few hundred from Tia, and walked out. She stopped him just before he reached the street, grabbing his upper arm so tight he knew he was gonna find more bruises later. Yelling, he slapped her and she was so shocked she temporarily let go. He shoved her back as hard as he could, and then he turned and ran. He ran as fast and as far and as long as he could.
He didn't see her fall onto the ground after he shoved her. He didn't see the bush by the front window catch fire spontaneously, or how it spread to the house. He didn't see the news reports warning citizens of a dangerous delinquent Latino boy, showing a picture of him from two years ago, and a hotline to call if they saw him. All he did was run.
Some people could call him daredevil. In truth, he just liked to test himself.
Water had always fascinated him, the way that it moved, the way it felt. He could never get enough of it. So of course, he spent as much time at the pool as his mom would allow. He would try to get faster, he would stretch himself to his limits and then more. But some limits aren't meant to be broken.
One day, he was working on holding his breath. While sitting on the bottom of the pool. He knew it was unsafe, but he trusted he would be fine. He'd just hit two minutes, and it was beginning to burn a little bit, but he told himself just ten more seconds. Again. And again. By the time he knew that he needed air, it was too late. He knew if he blacked out here at the bottom of the pool, he would most certainly die, so he pushed up with his legs. He couldn't make it though. His body got the best of him two feet under and he gasped in, but it wasn't air he inhaled.
His only thought was I'm not dead.
She always knew she was smart. In fact, she always knew she was brilliant. Not only did she have straight A+s all through school, but she won first place in every spelling bee, every math competition, every everything. You would never expect it when you first saw her, but it was stereotypes like those that drew her crazy.
She never forgot her stepmother and -brothers, but she wished she could. She would put it in her past, though, because this new family was everything she could ever need and then some. Mrs. Castellan was wonderful, and after a couple of years, Mrs. Castellan became Mom. She had never known her real mom, so she never expected to have a mother figure in her life.
She was never really anybody special, but she didn't mind. She was special to him, her new brother, and that was all that she needed.
She didn't want to be who she was. She didn't want to be beautiful, or to be the daughter of a famous movie star, or have the reputation of the "mysterious beauty" at school. She just wanted to fit in. But she couldn't help who she was. Just like she couldn't help but see what she did.
She hadn't told anyone, because she didn't have any close friends that she could tell. Besides, how was she supposed to tell someone "hey, I can see your emotions and if I wanted to I could control them too." That wasn't something you just told someone. She didn't even know how she could do it, she just knew she could. She could see that this cheerleader and that football player were crushing on each other, even if they didn't even know it yet. Sure enough, a few weeks later, they were together.
Sometimes, her abilities freaked her out.
You can be anything.
That was the only thing he remembered from his mother. She was all about that motivational nonsense. But oh, if only he had known then how true it was.
He would volunteer at the animal rescue center, because nobody, not even a kitten, should have to go through the feeling of loss that he did when his mother passed. He was often bullied at school for his appearance or personality, and none of his tormenters knew that he volunteered at Mars Rescue Shelter.
This particular afternoon, the leader had just happened to have decided to look at the shelter puppies. He didn't remember much from that day, just the want, the need to not be seen. The need to fit in. The next thing he knew, the bell on the door jingled, and he was looking up at them from the floor. How did he get down here? He saw his supervisor walking toward him, and suddenly he was being picked up by Ms. Ramirez and placed onto a wooden table. Everything was fuzzy. What was happening?
"Silly Hannibal, how did you get onto the floor?"
Hannibal? But his name wasn't Hannibal. Hannibal was the name of his favorite rescue kitten. The events following were clouded by a daze of his confusion, but shortly afterward the bullies had left and Ms. Ramirez had gone into the back room muttering, "Now where has that boy gone off to now?" He didn't know what was going on. He just wanted to get back to his grandmother's house. At that thought, he heard a crash and felt a burst of pain in his back. He wasted no time in racing out of the door, paying no mind to the wreckage on the floor or Ms. Ramirez's voice shouting for him to come back.
He would never forget her. He lay flowers for her every week, spoke to her every day, missed her every second. She'd never spoken back to him. Until she did. One can imagine his shock to see his late sister of over two years showing up and talking to him as if she'd never left. At first he thought he was hallucinating, but by the fifth day in a row, he knew it was real. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, this was her, complete with her olive skin, murky green beanie, and freckles.
Soon he tried to experiment with her. He knew she was dead, but if she was here, what could she do? Could she interact with objects? No. But she could touch him. She could sweep his too-long hair out of his eyes, cup his face, and tell him to move on, to get over her, to live his life. And that's exactly what she did.
But he didn't want to move on. All he wanted was her.
A/N: Thanks for reading the whole chapter! I might update again within a week, I don't really have an update schedule yet. This was just something I thought of late last night and I had to at least start making it.
Did you see a typo? Have a suggestion, question, or comment? Leave a review if you do! No flames please. But seriously, I will forever appreciate you if you actually take the time to go back and find a typo in one of my chapters, just specify where it was. Thanks!