Chapter 7: Veritas

Tisiphone. Erinyes. Fury.

Will never saw one up close. Percy had told him they were ugly — monsters with bat wings and long claws and yellow fangs and leathery skin and — gods. Percy's right. They are ugly. They're terrifying. But why are they here? Don't they only punish bad people? Don't they work for Hades? Why are they —

[I wouldn't count on the Gods for help. She has their favor.]

Oh. Oh. Oh.

"Will!"

Will lowered his eyes, pass the Fury's scaly torso, pass the thin, chicken-leg like arm, to Travis' pained face. There's a bite mark on his shoulder like he dreamt and his eyes are unclear. The pupils were blown wide from, from pain? From poison? Are Fury bites poisonous? What if they are? Is it something his hymns can heal?

"Will, you need to get out of — ah!"

The Fury pressed down and Travis' cry became a yelp, the claw twisting and digging and making that blooming red stain grow and grow.

"Be quiet, son of Thieves. Your judgment will be arriving soon. You best be silent."

The Fury pushed harder and Travis screamed , struggling to push the claw off as it dug deeper and deeper.

Will didn't know when his jaw fell open but he felt it snapped closed. A dangerous red cloud washed over his thoughts. "Stop hurting him."

Tisiphone didn't spare him a glance and the cloud thickens to a storm.

Travis cried for him to run away, is begging him to run away.

But Will already made up his mind. Travis shouldn't have expected anything else.

His fingers twitched, but otherwise stayed by his side. Tisiphone probably doesn't know he has a celestial weapon, safely tucked in his pocket he forgot to take out before bed. Travis' own celestial beak lays three feet away behind the Fury. He adjusted his grip on the ice pick, getting a feel for the weight. It's heavy in his palm. And a closer inspection revealed the end of the blade has been chipped off.

Will snagged the heel of his right shoe with the tip of his left, pulling it down to loosen it.

The Fury didn't pay him much attention but when he shuffled with his feet, her head snapped up and blood red eyes narrowed before relaxing. She snickered. "Scared, are you?"

Scared? No. All Will hears right now is blood rushing through his ears, his heart beating in his throat, and the uncomfortable clamminess of his hands.

Okay so maybe he's a teensy weensy bit scared, but even so—

"No, I'm not. Let him go." His voice always remains calm even when he's scared shitless. Something about being in countless emergencies instilled in him to sound calm at all times. Panicked medics leads to panicked patients and panicked patients mean someone (him) is going to get an accidental fist in the face. His siblings say it gives them confidence that he sounds like he knows what he's doing. He wishes it give him confidence too. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

The Fury laughed haughtily. She glanced down at Travis with glinting eyes. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Travis beat his fist on the arm, pleading with him all the while, "Will, please, please, please think of yourself for once in your life and run awaynow ."

Tisiphone looked back at him, mouth twisting into a malicious, disgusting, teeth-showing grin. "I am the Erinyes for murder. I punish those who commit blood sins. Homicide, fratricide, patricide. Do you understand where I am going?"

"He isn't a murderer," Will seethed. "His grandparents were an—"

Tisiphone laughed again, pressing down harder and eliciting a strangled cry from Travis. Will gritted his teeth. "You truly are the worst friend, Son of Argeiphontes. No one can even come close to you."

Will didn't appreciate being ignored. "What do you mean—"

But Travis whined and bucked his hips, legs digging uselessly at Tisiphone's hips. His head rolled back so he could the desperation clearly in his eyes and in the way his face twist. "Will, go! You're going to die if you stay. I'm wanted alive. You're not. Just leave me. I'll be fine."

"What an intelligent observation. You are more astute than I thought," the Fury noted, but her eyes gleamed and a tongue flickered out, wetting her lips. "I am here to punish you. Phoebus' son… he is important to you, is he not?"

And Travis is struggling with renewed fervor.

"Will, run! "

And he did. Just not in the direction Travis wanted. The Fury grinned, the smile feral. She watched him run towards her.

He kicked his loose shoe forward and caught it in his free hand without stopping. He threw it at the Fury, who sniggered and leaned slightly to the right to avoid his horrendous throw.

Get close, get close, get close.

The fury shifted its weight and lift its clawed hand, red, beady eyes still (thankfully) on the pick.

His hand twitched as he runs closer and closer. Not yet. Not until she has no time to react.

15 feet from the Fury.

Not yet.

10 feet.

Almost there .

5 feet.

He's going to KO this.

4 feet.

"Will, please, just stop!"

3 feet.

He threw the ax, aimed it to the side farthest from Travis in case bad luck reared with his bad aim. Too far, it seems because the fury barely had to move a couple of centimeters to the side to avoid it. Whatever. He's close enough. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled the beak out. Tisiphone's eyes widen but it's too late for her.

2 feet.

The ground is still wet from the morning dew.

1 feet.

His foot slid.

The claw came flying down and Will slid right under it.

He didn't dare look to see how close he was to being sliced open and instead focus on stabbing the beak on that very open, very unguarded calf.

His hand extended, reaching out and praying he'll scruff it. Just one slice, even a paper-cut like scratch is enough to poof it into dust.

The beak touched the skin but it's not enough. There's not enough force. He can't dig it in and he slid right underneath through with nothing to show.

Damn it!

He rolled onto his knees and scrambled to his feet. The Fury's back is still to him. If he's quick enough he can—

The wings snapped back and hit him in the face. Will backed away, pressing a hand against his eyes. A sting that's quickly becoming a fire burns in his eyes. And there's an awful taste in his mouth. Did he swallow something?

H struggled to open them, remembering this isn't the place to have your eyes closed, and found himself no longer in the forest.

This isn't a vision the Gods been giving him.

It feels different. He feels more grounded, more real, less dream-like.

The New York Alley he's in feels and even smells real. That trash dumpster seems real. Those two children seem real. And that man with the gun seems real.

He's talking on the phone, the gun pointed at the kids.

Will shouldn't feel like it's worth mentioning the children were Travis and Connor. Of course it's them. Who else can it be?

"I found them, Claire. Yeah, both of the little shits. We're in New — fuck!"

Travis, Connor, he doesn't know who threw something into the air between them.

It's a backpack.

The man cursed and fired shots but it's absorbed into the backpack, the shells disappearing. And the brothers ran forward in opposite directions.

The man cursed, took a step back, and tried to aim again but it's too late. Connor, Travis was already by the man's side with that ice pick in hand. Will watched the kid, a scrawny, frail, terrified kid, raise the pick and brought it down onto the wrist. It broke through the skin, sinking into the flesh.

The man screamed and dropped his gun to dislodge the embedded object. Connor, Travis bolted and picked up the gun, pointing at the man and tugging the other brother behind him.

The hand is shaky.

"Tell Mommy to stop. Tell her to leave us alone."

The man only surged forward and the gun went off.

Then Will's back in the forest with a smug Tisiphone leering over him.

He swung the beak out, but a claw knocked the beak out of his hand. The nails scratched his palm, barely drawing blood but causing a burning like they're engulfed in boiling water. He's pushed back to the tree and there's a hand on his throat, pushing, constricting. No matter how much he kicked and pulled, the hand wasn't loosening.

In the back of his mind, he's aware of the fact he's suffocating but the hand on his throat is wet, wet with blood, his friend's blood, and Will couldn't care about that fact right now

Tisiphone leaned in, just close enough for him to smell the stench of curdled blood and rotting bodies in her breath. "It's so sad. Your friend has such little faith in you, yet you have complete faith in him."

Will grunted and kicked the chest.

"Do you think he trusts you? He only trusts his brother."

He punched the arm.

"He didn't even tell you the full story."

He scratched the hand.

"Yet you're defending him like he's worth something."

And he spat in her face, the trickle landing on her cheeks rather than the eye he had hoped for. Horrible aim still horrible even with the demon only inches from his face.

Tisiphone didn't react like he hoped he would. She only leaned closer and grinned wider, giving him a wondrous close-up view of her ugly teeth. "And now you're about to die because of him."

The hand pressed harder and Will can start to see the black encroaching.

Shit. This is bad. This is bad.

It's pressing and pressing and pressing and suddenly, the pressure was gone and Will can breathe . He fell to the ground, coughing and cupping his neck, massaging his abused throat. He looked up to see who saved him and of course it's Travis.

He's biting the calf, black blood dribbling down in rivulets. Tisiphone screeched and pulled the leg away, but Travis clung on and Will could see his jaws clench tighter. The Fury swiped a claw down on his back, tearing through the shirt and skin, but Travis continued to cling on. He opened dilated eyes to level them with Will's, stare hard and irritated. "Go," he growled around the calf, face twisting as he bites harder.

Don't expect me too.

He has more powers other than his healing. But they're not suited for continuous combat, more suited for quickly gathering attention and getting attention is something this situation really doesn't need. But no one hurts his friends. No one. So he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistled, so sharp and shrill, Tisiphone covered her ears and Travis doing the same.

Will picked up his beak and tackled the open Fury, stabbing and twisting it deep into her arm. The last thing he saw before she turned into a pile of dust was the satisfying look of surprise. The satisfaction was only temporary as the Fury dissolve quicker than he thought and Will fell to the ground and banged his knee on the ground. He shot his hands out to catch himself, but he flinched at the sting in his injured hand when it scraped the ground. He curled it towards his chest, not bothering to look at it. The way it stung and pulsed… he really hopes it's the adrenaline making it worse than it actually is.

In fact, he's noticing a lot of places on his body are starting to ache. Especially around his neck.

Will admired Percy before but now it's resolidified. Taking on a fury is exhausting and terrifying. He can't even imagine how a 12 year old Percy must felt.

A bird cawed and Will stiffened. His whistle must have carried for miles. Every monster in the vicinity is probably converging on their spot right now. "Hey, Travis, we need to go. The monsters will be coming any second."

Nobody answered him. Will looked around, finding Travis' curled body a few feet away from him. He shouldn't be that far from him. Did he move? "Travis?"

He stood and walked over to Travis who stiffened as he comes closer. He knelt by his side, grimacing at the 3 claw marks down his back. They're oozing a lot of blood, but at least it's not gushing.

"Travis?" he says again.

No response.

He meant to shake the shoulder lightly, but as soon as his hand touched skin, he pulled back in alarm.

Hot, his skin was hot to the touch… and the bite… Will can't see much through the stained shirt, but it's definitely not red like blood should be. It is bleeding a black pus that Will with all his medical expertise knows is not a good sign.

He swallowed, looked to the sky for a bit. Relax. Stay calm. Remember your lessons.

"Travis, tell me how you're —"

"Will." His head snapped down. Travis' face is still into the dirt, but Will could have sworn he heard him call his name. "Yeah?" he says hesitantly as he lowered his face to hear better.

"Did you summon that Chimera?"

"Chimera?"

And Travis rolled onto his back, much to Will's dismay. Don't do that. Your wounds can get infected. He isn't looking him in the eye, but at the sky. There's a shakiness to his voice, a desperateness to them, like he's admitting a great sin.

"When we still had the chariot. Did you summon that Chimera?"

Will blinked once, not understanding. Did he summon a chimera? To strike them down? What? Is he mishearing? "I don't know what you mean."

"Then what about that hellhound? The leucrotta? Did you summon those?"

"I… No. I don't summon monsters ever," he answers unsurely. "Where are you going with — I mean… I don't understand why you're—"

"Why didn't you run when I told you too? Why don't you ever listen to me?" Travis said, eyes closing tightly, and Will shuts up. Why?

"Because you were in danger," he answered.

There's a barely audible sigh, shaky and stuttering. Travis peeled his eyes open, eyes rolling to the other side. He pulled himself to his feet, shakily and trembling, and tried to walk away.

Will stood after him and grabbed the wrist. "What are you doing?"

Travis tore his wrist away, shaking his head. "Back to Jupiter. Back to Connor. He's in trouble. I have to get back to Jupiter."

"You can barely stand," Will noted, eyeing the way Travis is swaying back and forth. His breathing is labored and with his hand on the wrist, he could feel how high of a pulse Travis has. "You can't travel like this."

Travis only turned around and mumbled a nonreassuring 'I'm fine,' before he started stumbling away. Will hold on to the wrist again, this time with more insistence. "You can't, Travis. You're too sick to—"

With speed that Will didn't think Travis had, shouldn't have in that state, he spun around and laid a firm hand on his shoulder. Something metal and solid rested lightly on his chest and when Will looked down, he sees the chipped ice pick. When had Travis gone to retrieve it?

"Will."

Will picked his eyes up to Travis', his mind blanking for a second when he saw the stormy blue.

Travis is… Travis is seething. So many emotions brewed in those eyes. They're like a cauldron, new and more items being tossed in. He's smoldering and raging and burning, but beneath the turbulent front, he could see fear. He's scared and the hand on his shoulder trembles the way his eyes do.

"Connor needs me. I rather die than let him suffer. Stop getting in my way."

Will didn't cower. "You're not thinking clearly."

Travis leaned in, till the only thing Will can see is the blue hues in his eyes, could see all the grooves and crevices, could see the way they tremble. Narrowed. Distrustful.

"They won't kill me."

"But they can hurt you."

Travis glowered and tried to walk away, but Will got in front of him again and hold him back lightly by the shoulders. "Stop, Travis. You're not in a condition to walk."

Travis was going to say something, but his eyes rolled back and he's falling forward. Will caught him easily enough, grunting as he lowered Travis onto the ground and rest his head on his lap.

Shit, shit, shit, Will muttered under his breath as he pushed the soaked hair back. My ABCs. Remember my ABCs. Airway, Breathing, Circulation. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Travis' eyes are screwed shut and he's panting, chest rising. His pulse is erratic, weak. And his skin is burning now. What is his temperature? 104? 105?

He needs to lower the fever.

Something wet trickled down his hand and he jerked it back. It was blood.

Shit, he forgot the Fury torn into Travis' back. With care, he rolled Travis onto his side with the good shoulder, using the arm to pillow his head.

Will pulled the tattered shirt back to check the wounds, grimacing at the dirt that's caked around the blood. He needs to clean that now if he doesn't want to deal with an infection. Then there's the bite. There's black veins encircling the punctures, already a few centimeters wide that definitely sends SOS signals to his brain. They pulsed underneath his fingers.

Oh gods, Will couldn't help say as he wiped his hand on the ground.

This isn't good.

He needs to lower the fever. He needs to clean the bite. He needs to disinfect the wounds. He needs to do so many fucking things and he doesn't have anything to actually do those things. Where's the magic backpack? Did Travis take it with him when he left? Or is still inside the— leaves rustled and Will's head snapped up. Legs trembling, he left Travis's side and picked up his beak.

He waited, heart in his throat, but nothing came out. And Will sighed, tucking his beak back into his pocket.

They can't stay out here. What should he do? What should he do? How long does it take to heal from a Furies' poison? Hours? Days? Never ?

What are the effects of Furies' poison? Are there any lasting consequences? Like blindness? Loss of nerve cells? Loss of all brain function?!

Oh gods, oh my gods. Oh. My. Gods.

Will.

Will froze at the call of his name. That voice is familiar, very, very familiar. "Dad?" he said shakily. The gods are against them. But his father couldn't possibly be out to get them, could he?

Could he?

Will swallowed the knot in his throat. "Dad...if you're not going to helpboth of us,don't...don't bother."

He waited.

The leaves swayed, the birds sung, and Travis whimpered behind him.

Nobody spoke.

Will turned around, eyes burning — is his father really not going to help him?— but the voice is back in his head.

Go to the tent. It's monster-proof.

That's not dad's voice.

His father wasn't going to help him.

Fine.

So be it.

Will walked back and lifted Travis by the armpits but the keen whine made Will lowered him back down. He bit his lips, looking around for any monsters before running back to the tent and coming back out with the sleeping bag bunched in his arms. He rolled Travis onto the cloth more roughly than he should in his haste, wincing at the pained yelp.

I'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry.

He dragged him into the tent and hurried to zip up the flap. He had barely taken his hands off the zipper when the sound of cans toppling came from behind him.

Will spun around to see Travis, kneeling and gasping, cupping his shoulder. The toppled cans scattered among the floor.

Will cursed and knelt by his side, the tent's wrinkling under his weight. Travis' head shot up, eyes wide, dilated, terrified . A fist swung out, but Will caught it easily and cupped it in his hands. "Travis, it's okay. You're safe," he said softly.

Will watched the fear dispersed and the shoulders slumped as Travis slunk sideways into his lap. A hand fisted into his khakis. "I'm sorry," he mumbles into his pants.

"It's fine," Will said. His fingers twitched to the bloodied back but didn't make contact.

The fist tighten. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Will stressed, "Tell me where it hurts the most. Or better yet, take off your shirt so I can see —"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Take off your shirt. I'm going to heal —"

Travis starts shaking and the fist pulled his khakis taut. There's a wetness seeping into his pant. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Connor. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I'm Will."

But Travis only continued to mumble his brother's name. The mumblings dissolve into incoherent phrases. Will grits his teeth. Whatever, he'll just move the shirt himself to make room. He slips his hand under the shirt and places a hand on the back, in the center of the scratches, and chant.

But nothing happened.

Bewildered, Will retract his hand. He stared at it, at the blood spotting his palm and pads. No . He tried again, resting it on the back and trying again. And again. And again.

It's not closing.

It's not closing.

It's not fucking closing.

He looks at his other hand, the hand the fury scratched. There's a single, red line, blood beading along some parts. Will chants for himself, eyes widening when the scratch remains as red as ever.

You have got to be…

He clenched his hand, acknowledging the sting. The wound is real. He's not imagining this. Why isn't it healing? Fury magic? Then… the bite…

Will placed his hand on the bite mark and sang.

Travis screamed. He screamed and thrashed and writhed and wailed. The second it took for his brain to register the scream and order his hand to retract was much too long.

Shit shit shit shit fuck shit fucking shit i'm so stupid i'm so stupid i'm so stupid

With shaking hands, Will rolled Travis onto his back, panic rising when he realized he passed out. He shoved his fingers under the neck and his heart stopped for a moment when he couldn't feel a pulse. That is until he realized he's two centimeters too far from the artery and readjusted. But feeling the pulse — erratic, loud— did nothing to relieve his panic. I hurt him.

Will squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath before carefully lowering Travis back onto the sleeping bag.

He grabbed the nearest chip bag from the toppled stack, open it without looking, and down it, faintly realizing he's crunching on nuts. ( I hurt him.)

Will pulled the backpack to him, retrieving an overabundance of towels. He grimaced at the state of Travis' shirt. It's ruined and torn beyond repair. Should he just throw it away? Yes, he should.

Gently, Will use the beak to cut through the fabric. He slid it out under Travis and grimaced at the puncture wounds on the chest.

That's right, Tisiphone had dug its claws in his chest. ( I hurt him.)

Will wished he had stabbed the beak somewhere it'll hurt more. Like the eye or the mouth or up the nose. Somewhere where it'll burn a lot more than the arm. ( I hurt him.)

He drowned the towels with water and eyed the bite, clenching the towel and wondering if it'll hurt if he were to gently dab on the —Travis groaned.

Yes, it'll hurt to clean it.

But he has too.

And Will gritted his teeth. Travis will just have to endure it. ( I hurt him.)

I'm sorry.

Will wished he had stabbed the beak where it'll hurt more.

"I hurt him."

His vision blurred and Will groaned. He shoved the heel of his hand into his eyes, pushing the tears back. Not now. Go away.

But they just blur more and more and soon it'll leak and turn into an all-out bawl.

That voice he hates comes back, nagging him, questioning him, sprouting the truths he doesn't want to hear. You hurt him. You failed as a medic. You can't heal him. You're worthless. You're—

"I know." Will gritted his teeth and went back to sponging. "I know I suck. I suck big time. I'm the worst of the worse. I'm—" But he falters.

Stop thinking you can't and start thinking you can.

And his fist tighten. "I'm trying."


The voice said it was monster proof but to actually see it in action is incredible.

Will snapped his head up from a doze when a shadow fell across the tent. It's humongous. The shadow encompassed an entire side and the clarity of the lines tell him this monster isn't far away.

No, they're most likely right beside them.

With a shaky hand, Will grabbed the beak.

He's ready. He's ready. He can kill monsters by himself, no problem. When they break inside, he'll leap out and stab them all before they could even realize what's happening.

The monster — is it a chimera? Hellhound? — nudged the tent with its paw and Will raised the beak, willing his arms to just stop quivering for a goddamn second.

The monster nudged the tent again, this time with its head and the tent shook violently.

It clawed at the tent—Will clenched his weapon—but it didn't rip. It pounced on top of it but it didn't give. And most remarkably, the monster—Will now recognizing it as a chimera—tried to light them on fire but it didn't catch.

Monster-proof.

This tent is really monster-proof.

Will swallowed. The tent is monster-proof. It's ladled with nonperishable food and water. It's every demigod's dream. There's no fear being ambushed or fending off monsters. It's almost like ...

Will looked back.

Travis's still unconscious, groaning sometimes.

Will leaned over and brushed the matted bangs aside, eyes sweeping over the body for any injuries he might have missed.

He didn't spot any, barred from the glaring black pus oozing bite on the shoulder.

Will grazed his knuckles across the cheek, muttering a soothing chant and hoping it'll lower the fever.

He doesn't think it works, but it's good to always try. Maybe the fury magic will wear off.

Will drowsed a towel with water and laid it on Travis's forehead. There's a dull throbbing in his neck that a quiet chant soothes. He rested his head on his arm, one hand free to thread through a deck of cards.

Solitaire doesn't sound too boring.


You're going to die.

You can't make it out of here.

Heed my words, shepherd of souls.

Interstate 5, road 67, car crash.

Cabin, management, lamia.

2 mile, south, empousa.

Your fate is sealed. But you have a choice.

He doesn't have to die with you too.

Will jolted awake.

He rubbed his eyes blearily, the weird, number-listing dream already fading from his mind. What the heck was that about… Yawning, he checked Travis' condition. Still burning a fever. He applied a new towel.

The sun is high in the sky. It's only noon. If Travis can pull out of the fever, they can still make it back to the tourist route.

A bird screeched and the tent bounced side to side.

Yawning again, Will laid back down.

He guessed another nap wouldn't hurt him.


Don't be selfish. Let him go. No one has to die with you.

Don't be selfish.

Don't be selfish.

Don't be selfish.

Will snapped his eyes open.

He guessed he's done with naps.


Magic items are tons of fun, Will mused as he pulled out a volleyball, a baseball, a soccer ball, a golf ball in quick succession. It doesn't look like there's a time limit like Leo's bag has.

Golf stick, Hockey stick, badminton bat.

Although in terms of usefulness, it's not much.

Kneecaps, swimming cap, a visor.

Unless…

Boxing gloves, snow goggles, skies.

Unless he's not being creative enough.

And he pulled a bicycle out of the bag, gasping at it fell on top of him. "I guess competitive cycling is a sport," he wheezes as he shoves it back inside the endless backpack.

"Hey, don't treat my stuff so roughly. It'll break."

Will jerked and spun around to see Travis, alert and smiling a lopsided, goofy grin, on his side with the good a smile, Will tossed the backpack aside and crawled on his knees towards Travis. "You're awake! Great. Do you feel up to leaving? It's not safe to stay here."

But the closer he got, he realized something is wrong and it's not just the hazy, unfocused gaze in his eyes. His body is tensed, taut and before Will could look closer, Travis is propelling himself right into him. Will is pushed onto his back, his head knocking the ground not so gently. Hands dug into his shoulder and a head nuzzled into the dip of his collarbone, soft hair tickling his nose. Heat pooled in his stomach that Will isn't entirely sure is from the sudden proximity.

"Will. Will~ William. Willy. Will," Travis chirped into his chest.

"What is it?" Will gasped, struggling to sit up and failing as Travis hummed, face still pressed in his shirt. He should not be having this much trouble wrestling a fever-stricken, severely injured man off him but here he is. Maybe he should have taken Annabeth's daily offer to the gym. This is embarrassing.

Somehow he manhandled Travis onto his back again, taking care not to disturb his wounds. This whole process would have been significantly easier if Travis didn't cling to him like a koala. He managed to tear the hands off his shirt and with a hand cupping the neck, lowered Travis on his back.

The back of his hand brushed against Travis' forehead. Will frowned at the warmth and reached for the extra towels he taken out. Travis tried to sit up, but Will immediately pushed him back. "No, Travis, you need to rest."

Travis giggled, but thankfully listened and let himself be pushed down. Will sighed in relief and pulled away, but Travis held tight to his right hand. Will frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Travis shook his head and giggled again. He didn't let go of the hand. It makes wetting the towel and applying it to his head very difficult.

"Will~" he drawled out with a goofy, wide smile.

"Yeah?"

"Will, who do you like?"

"You already know that," grunts Will as he tries and fails to uncap a water bottle. "Travis, let go of my hand. You need to drink some wa—"

"Try and guess my crush."

"No, let go of my hand." But Travis held fast and even pouted, cheeks puffed out adorably. Will sighed, looking to the heavens. Hermes help me deal with your child. Will looked down and decided to humor him. "Katie?"

Travis laughed and his eyes twinkled. "Nope, try again."

"Miranda?"

"No, I'll give you a hint. He's blond."

Will blinked in surprise. "Blond?"

There's no blond boy in Demeter cabin.

"Yes, he has blue eyes."

Will wracked his brain. Blond hair… blue eyes… "Is it— I mean, Jason is blond and blue-eyed." A lot of people like the Son of Jupiter. Will included when he first saw him. How could anybody not like Jason?

Travis continued, "He has a bright smile and a caring heart."

That's definitely Jason and for some strange reason, the picture of Travis with Jason makes his chest tight. "So it's Jason. I can't blame you. He is pretty hand—"

Travis pouted again, letting go of his hand to latch on to the collar of his camp shirt and pulling with a surprising amount of strength. Will slammed out a hand in time to avoid banging Travis with his head. Apollo knows what will happen if he gives Travis a concussion as he fights the poison in his body as well.

"What the heck was that…" Will started, but then his eyes focused and he realizes just how close they are. Their noses are lightly brushing, a light sensation that almost tickles. And Will could feel every inhale, exhale, catching a whiff of the sugary sweet Strawberry Poptarts.

But Travis' eyes, boring into his with a strange sort of intensity, didn't tickled, weren't sweet or soft. Instead they electrified him, something shooting down his spine that leaves his nerves tingling. And while they're still like this, face to face, Travis said, "No, you dimwit, I like you."

You.

"...Me?" Will says weakly. Me? Me?! What?

What?

Travis grinned. "Yeah. You."

Is this lightheadedness suppose to be normal after a confession? What is he supposed to say? Is Travis even the right mind to be saying this?

What if it's the fever making him say this? What if he's pulling his leg?

Will swallowed hard and pulled himself up. Travis lets go of his shirt, but his hand snaked down to cling to the bottom. "I liked you for a really, really long time. I always admired how caring you are. Everybody loves you at camp. You try so hard for everybody, even for people like me and Connor who bothered you every day. You have the prettiest eyes and the sweetest smiles and kindest words. And gods, sometimes I'm so jealous of Nico."

Will's mind was short-circuiting. His years of handling emergency, quick thinking situations was doing nothing for him at this moment. When someone confessed… you either say "I like you too" or "I don't like you" right? Right. Come on. Say it, Will. Say that you — which is it? What is he supposed to say? Like? Dislike? I don't know?

Oh gods, Travis is staring at him. He needs to say something. He gotta say something.

And he said what he thought of first. "I — You — you're hysterical, Travis. You're not thinking clearly."

That wasn't an answer.

But Travis took it as an answer. His eyes softened and Will could see him deflate a little. "I knew you liked Nico since forever, so I didn't want to bother trying. But since I'm going to die soon, I thought might as well. Connor owed me $10 bucks now for confessing. Did you know he bet me I'm too chicken to confess? I'm no chicken. I'm a falcon. Powerful, strong, maje—I'm thirsty. Can you pass me water? I don't feel like I can get up."

Will paled. Die? What does he mean by that?

"Hey, Will, can you sing? I want to hear a song."

Will asked, "What do you mean? You're not going to die, Travis."

Travis' eyes cleared for a second and Will cursed himself. That was a question.

"I've been getting dreams of dying. It changes every time. Car crash, drowning, falling. Do you think they're dreams? I hope they're dreams."

Will's mouth went dry. Car crash? He dreamt something about a car crash too. Could it just be a coincidence? He clenched his fist. What a joke. Nothing is ever a coincidence. He knows better. Demigod dreams aren't ever just dreams.

Travis was already gone, talking about his brother's inability to sing. Will snagged a water bottle from the pile and twisted it.

Travis wasn't going to die.

He wasn't going to die.

He'll die himself before he lets that happen.


Travis remained awake since his … confession? Revelation? Admission? Statement? Statement.

His moods flopped between ridiculously, almost drunkenly happy to an unnerving, brooding silence where he does nothing but stares at the ceiling.

One is definitely worse than the other.

"Hey, Travis…"

No answer.

"Do you want some water? You need to stay hydrated."

Travis shook the half-empty bottle he gave him earlier. Will waited for him to drink it, but it remained unopened and rather than push, Will leaned back and sighed.

Tearing into his fifth packet of trail mix, Will looked at the last trickling light seeping into their tent. The sun is setting.

They wasted an entire day. He wondered if Connor is alright. He's in Camp Jupiter, isn't he? He should be safe. Unlike them.

Coughing made him turn around in distress. Travis, sitting up on his elbow and spilled water all around him, hacked like he was dying. Maybe he was dying. Will crawled over to his side and raised a hand but Travis tensed and he stopped.

The cough subsided and Will watched Travis sank back into his sleeping bag with a miserable silence.

"... you could have asked me to help you. I wouldn't have mind," he muttered, picking up the now empty water bottle and cleaning the spill with the towels.

"I would have," was the mumbled response.

Well, I wouldn't have , Will almost screamed, but he bit his lip. Somehow he felt like if he just raised his voice, even just move too fast, something will break. And right now, he isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing with Travis' current frame of mind.

See this is why he wants to be a general practitioner and not a psychologist. His insensitivity and impatience to say what is on his mind will probably scar his patients and mar his reputation within a week or two.

Will snagged a new water bottle from the pile, twisting it open and tightening the lid. He placed it within arms reach from Travis. "Yeah. Well, here's some more water. Remember to stay hydrated."

Will sat back down on his sleeping bag and watched from the side as Travis reached forward and gripped the bottle. He didn't move to sit up, didn't move to drink. And almost unnoticeably, there's a tremble in his shoulder and his curling into a ball and the bottle crunches from his tightening hold and there's sniffling and oh, Will realized with a falling stomach, he's crying. Travis is crying.

Will moved to be closer, maybe offer a shoulder, but a cracking voice breaking the silence halted him.

"Why did you give me water?"

Will's eyebrows furrowed. "Why? Because… it's important to stay hydrated when you're sick?"

Wrong thing to say because the sniffling grew louder and it's now punctuated with hiccuping breathes. Will moved closer and laid a hand on the back and rubbed what he hoped are comforting circles.

"Hey," he cooed, unsure of what's troubling Travis. He went for the obvious. "I… I know what you're going through must be terrifying, but you have me. We'll get out of here and make it back to Camp Jupiter. Then I'm sure Chiron will figure something out. Everything will be alright."

Travis shook his head. "Tisiphone was right. I'm the worst friend ever."

Will scowled. Tisiphone. Just thinking of that demon bitch brings a sour taste to his mouth. "You're wrong. She's wrong. You're a good per—"

Then Travis rolled onto his back and yeah, he is crying, tears flowing down the side as he looked up to Will. Earlier his eyes held sparks, bright enough to electrified him. Now they're dim, dull, a faint, feeble spark close to dying out and Will want nothing more than to wipe that look from existence.

"I've been lying to you this whole time and I've been keeping secrets from you. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's fine," Will stressed, even though he's sure it's probably not fine. "I don't mind."

Travis closed his eyes and cried. "Don't say that. You don't know anything. Our mom wants us dead because I killed Jaime."

Jaime… their half-brother?

"I was seven. I didn't know anything. I didn't know why we weren't supposed to touch phones. I didn't know anything at all. I only saw something that mom said was off-limits to us but not to everybody else. I just wanted to see what's so special about it. But because I— I— I have to see what it does. A monster came. Jaime was only 4. He couldn't do anything. He, he, he was eaten because of me. Connor is in danger because of me. You're in danger because of me. Everything is because of me."

Oh, Travis, that's not your—

"We ran away. I ran away rather than face my punishment and hid at Camp Half Blood for all those years. I should have died there with Jaime. Connor should have just left me rather than pull me away. I should have just let myself be captured by all those people mom sent after us. Maybe you wouldn't be here if I had been a little bit selfless."

"Travis, don't...don't say that. I don't want you to…" the words wouldn't come out.

And finally, Travis let his hands fall, and his eyes went to Will. Even though they were hazy and unclear, Will's heart broke at the anguish. Oh Travis…

"Dad told me we weren't supposed to be alive. That both me and Connor were supposed to die that day. But he protected us and led us to Camp Half Blood. We weren't important like Luke so he thought he could try. He tried to change our fate. That's why Zeus is so angry with him. But you can't escape fate. Luke showed me that. We're still going to die by our mother's hands. You don't have to die with us."

Fate… Will intertwined his fingers with Travis', bringing them to his chest. "We control our fates." No one else does.

Travis' eyes rolled back to him and they're so scared and hurt .

"I'm not, I won't, you're not going to die. I won't let her kill you," Will said firmly.

"You can't change fate. The thread is already cut." The utter bleakness in his voice a stinging cut.

Stop thinking you can't and start thinking you can. Will tightened his hand. "I'll tape more yarn onto the end. There's always something you can do."

Travis' eyes are sliding shut. But Will hold onto his hands, bringing it up to his head. "I'll figure something out. I promise."

And he clenched his eyes, hands tightening around Travis'.


"I won't let you end this way."


He embraced his dreams this time rather than push it away. He sees Annabeth and the brothers again on that snowy alley. She held out her hand and said in her squeaky 7-year-old voice, "She won't get in. You'll be safe. I promise."

Then Will is moving forward. He's in Manhattan. He sees Travis standing at the edge between Morpheus' spell and where time slowed down. Travis is staring at the barrier, mouth flapping and hands shaking, and Will followed his gaze to the woman standing at the edge but he's moving again before he could get a better look.

Now he's in Camp Half Blood. Connor and Travis, they're sitting on top of the trees. There's sunlight streaming down and hitting Travis in all the right ways that make him look like a charming prin— "We need to leave. She knows we're in New York," Connor said, interrupting his line of thought. "We can't drag Annabeth or Chris into this anymore. This is our problem."

Something is being passed to Connor, a pocket knife he realized. Travis smiled wryly. "Yeah, yeah, I got you. Trust no one and nothing. Let's make this a clean break, okay?"

Then again he's moving and he sees them again but this time sitting on the roof of Hermes Cabin. It's dark out. Certainly past curfew yet Connor is twirling the pocket knife and Travis is humming like nothing is wrong.

"I talked with Nico to let you pilot. But your navigator is Will. Will you be okay? Do you want flirting tips?"

And Travis spluttered, aiming a kick at Connor who only laughed and kicked back. "I'm joking. I'm joking. I'll be waiting for you at Camp Jupiter. Be safe, okay? Oh and Travis? I heard Will doesn't like ramblers so try to keep a lid on the rambling."

He's moved forward to recent times. He can see himself sleeping on the sleeping bag, still with the splint on, and Travis is there, staring at his body. Just… staring at his body, the deck of cards still in his hand.

Then again, he sees himself asleep on the ground. There's a hellhound coming towards his unconscious body and in the trees is Travis. Doing nothing but staring as the hellhound come closer and closer to his defenseless form. Why is he just — then Travis leaped down and whistled, drawing an ice pick from the backpack.

He's in the trees again but this time it's when he's dangling 25 feet above the air. Travis is again watching him from the branch he sat. Doing nothing but watching as he struggled and eventually fell to the yipping leucrota below. Why is he just watching me struggle?

And now, they're in the tent. The toboggan is off to the side with him face down and snoring into the bag. Travis is staring at him. His hand raised, paused, before continuing to pat down his pockets and unhook his shoes. It's like he's doing a body check. A body check… why? It's not like he has anything to hide. Travis didn't find what he's looking forward. His brows creased and he sighed, plopping onto his back.

"Welp. There goes my theory. Guess you're clean. Unless someone is speaking to you through your head. Which in that case, I'm screwed. Help me out here, Will. I know you're awake. Which side are you on? Mine or Claire's?" When he didn't get an answer, Travis laughed eerily and stand up to stretch. "Of course you won't answer. You're not dumb enough to answer."

And Will woke up to someone shaking his shoulder. Will blinked blearily, picking up his head to look around. it took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dark, the moonlight helping some. But that shadow looming above him is definitely Travis and his eyes are definitely focusing on him and not at all hazy.

Will sat up fully, euphoria blossoming. "You're up!"

Travis didn't say anything. He just cupped his shoulder with his hand and looked at Will with such wonder and confusion with those blue, beautifully aware eyes. "You… saved me."

"Of course I would. You're my friend, Travis."

"Friend…" Travis muttered under his breath. His eyes lingered on his throat and a hand rose to pull the collar down a bit. "Your neck… it looks bad."

"It's just bruising. Nothing really bad."

Will looked outside. It doesn't appear to be daybreak yet. Could they still travel in the dark? It's been around 72 hours since they left Camp Half Blood. The people at Camp Jupiter must have noticed something is wrong by now. He hoped they send someone to get them.

Travis tugged on his sleeve and Will directed his attention back to him. He's swallowing hard and fidgeting with his hands, eyes not meeting Will as they dart around the ground. "Will, I need to tell you something about my mom. She's out to get me and Connor because we ki — ki — killed— " Travis groaned and rubbed the palm of his hand against his eyes. "Why is it so hard to say?"

"I know about Jaime. You told me when you were kind of hysterical," Will said, adding what he couldn't say back then, "I don't think it was your fault. You were a kid. You didn't know that would happen."

And Travis lowered his head. "I'm sorry. You're in danger because of me."

Will winced at the dejected tone and bumped Travis' shoulder with his. "I'm okay with it. I got to know you a lot better because of this. Don't be upset." When Travis didn't raise his head, Will nudged him again. "Come on. I really don't mind."

Travis only nodded and sank back down into his sleeping bag without a word, turning his back to him and Will resisted groaning at his lack of reassuring words. Today is not his day. What should he do? Push the issue? Let it be? Deal with it in the morning? Let him sleep?

He's good at pushing the issues. He knows he's good at that but is that always the right way to do it?

Apparently not based on these last couple of days with his insistent questioning of parents and childhood.

Will pulled his sleeping bag up beside Travis, noting how Travis didn't shuffle away and laid down on his back. 5 hour till dawn. That seems like enough sleep to fuel up on and Will closed his eyes to let the tempting hands of sleep pull him to slumber, but a voice broke through those light touches.

You need to get away from him, Will. It's his father's voice and when Will processed those words, his blood boiled.

"No."

If you stay with him, you'll die.

"Better to die for a friend than live as a deserter."

She may care about who she kills but the monsters won't. The minor gods won't.

"If you're not going to help me then fuck off."

Travis snickered and rolled over to face him. Will can see that impish grin he didn't know he missed so much. "Hey, you okay? Talking to yourself is a sign of the insane, you know?"

Will rolled to his side too and wrapped Travis's hands with his. He ignored the way Travis reddened and spluttered, and instead focus on his eyes.

They're sparkling and full of life again. Not at all like the dejected, fearful, tired glints they were. He's not going to let Claire or monsters or any gods for that matter snuff that out ever again.

"I'm not going to leave you, Travis. I'll show you you can trust me. We're going to get through this together."

Travis chuckled hesitantly, confusion marking on his face. "You're kind of scaring me. What gotten into you? Are you possessed? Do I need to get an exorcist?"

But he squeezed Will's hand and smiled softly.

Okay, I'll believe you.

...

Author's Note: So a HUGE, HUGE thank you to those who reviewed! I can't tell you how much I go back to your comments to motivate myself to keep writing. And no worries! I have devoted hours and hours and hours to this. I have stayed up until 3 am four times to revise/edit/post. I'm not letting this go unfinished. Sorry for the wait. I, uh, got really into Haikyuu and fell in love with Oikawa Tooru. My bookmarks are now 50% about him. It's an unhealthy obsession, I admit. It also doesn't help I ship him with everybody. Literally. Every. Single. Haikyuu. Character. Is. Fair. Game.

If you pals ever want some good KageOi, IwaOi, KuroOi, or BokuOi fanfic… well… I know a lot. (Thank god I am on Summer vacation.)

Also, hahahaha, I'm horrible at writing romance even though I am such a sap for intense, tooth-rotting, cuddling fluff (after some whump). Please give me advice. I need all of it.