Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Maybe if I did, everyone would recognize my genius...ha, ha.
/./././
Running Backwards Through the Entrance (And Rewinding the Tape Again)
/./././
Thalia wakes up at maybe five in the morning, suddenly feeling very, very nervous.
The sun is wavering on the horizon. It's a weird time of day: shadows slant oddly, casting an unnatural sheen over everything. Thalia paces restlessly in circles. The summer has flown by and unexpectedly, here she is.
Something in her has changed in these past months, and now she isn't so sure of her place. She's been staying here as a camper, not a Hunter (she spends her time talking by the canoe lake or practicing her swordplay, not terrifying daughters of Aphrodite), and she's just seeing this now. But she's not convinced that she's either one. Her category is undefined, so where does she belong?
And of course she can't hide any of this from Artemis. It's true, there's been a shift, but Thalia isn't ready just yet to start over new.
She stops walking. The silence is deafening, pressing in on her, somehow as loud as a chorus of crickets. Closing her eyes, Thalia—well, Thalia tries meditating, which is something she never thought she'd be doing.
This nervousness is tiresome. Thalia is so tired of doubting herself, judging herself from an immortal's perception. She wants to do what feels right. And what feels right isn't—this.
"What are you doing?"
Thalia jumps a foot in the air, and instantly tries to stop herself from blushing. Nico, oh-so-cool demigod of the dead, is surveying her with an expression that would be neutral if it weren't for his raised eyebrows.
"Nothing," she says quickly. Nico just cocks his head and smirks.
"You're nervous," he states. Oh gods. He can read her.
"Fine, I'm nervous," Thalia snaps. "So?"
He doesn't reply. Thalia's pacing unwittingly took her to the arena, and Nico sits on one of the steps, not even looking at her. Is this what all children of Hades do? She stands there awkwardly until she gets the message and sits down.
"I never took you for the Hunter type."
"Oh, because you know me so well?"
He shrugs. "Point taken. But I figured you were at least something like me."
Crossing her legs, Thalia waits.
"I didn't figure you were the kind of person who would be cool serving a goddess for all time, because I'm not. And from what I've heard of you, you're definitely not. I don't really buy all the excuses you're making."
Electricity crackles faintly on Thalia's fingertips. "Be careful where this is going, kid."
Nico nods. Thalia thinks she could take him, but that's not counting all the skeleton warriors he could make pop up out of the ground.
"I'll just stop here, then," he says. "Probably the safest move, if your dad's temper is anything to go by."
Again with the references to Zeus' temper. Coming from Percy, it was just annoying, but Nico has a way of mentioning it that makes her want to get her hands around his neck.
"If that's what you want," he adds casually.
Being (almost) immortal. Getting (almost) first-class treatment as Artemis' lieutenant. Fighting monsters for (almost) an eternity. It sounds—almost—perfect. Yet Thalia can't deny she's been thinking of leaving. It's just that she's never thought that far ahead.
"I don't intend to stay with them forever," she whispers to Nico, as if she's afraid the goddess of the hunt has spies hiding in the trees.
"When do you think you'll leave?" he asks ironically. "After we're all dead, or before?"
Thalia's never thought about this. She doesn't want to think about this. She loves the idea of living forever, how it makes her seem so powerful and strong and iconic, but she never puts it in the context of her own life. Time had already messed her up so much, she hadn't thought it would matter. But it does, it always does.
And yet—she has a real family. That's the argument that hangs her up. She has a real family, finally, something she's always wanted. Who is she to leave it?
"I don't know," she sighs.
Nico half-smiles at her. "You should probably decide," he offers, somewhat unhelpfully, "unless Artemis kicks you out right away for talking to your true love." And here Thalia had forgotten Nico was still like thirteen years old.
She decides not to tackle him (a tactic Thalia's hoping will surprise him, if he knows her at all). Instead, she nurses a crackle of electricity in her palm, staring him down the whole time. This turns out to be a bad idea because Nico has perfected his own evil stare. He must have gotten it from his dad. They make faces at each other for a while, and then Thalia stands to leave.
"You should do your own thing," Nico says to her. "You'd be good at that."
"Thanks for the advice, Dr. Drew," Thalia shoots back, even though he was being serious. Part of her considers his suggestion, though. She's never been one for taking orders. Maybe she could make her own family. Maybe this time it would work.
Thalia was so desperate before, she would have taken anything she was offered—and she did. But now…things are different.
She's beginning to sound like an optimist. She's beginning to sound like a schizophrenic. It's time to take a nap.
/./././
Peaceful moments at Camp Half Blood never last long. They're like an endangered species. Thalia's nap lasts maybe ten minutes before someone starts banging thunderously on the door, and she jumps out of her bed so fast she falls over. Around her, the Hunters grumble and stir.
"What?" Thalia hops over to the door. "Is the camp on fire or something?"
Grover puts his fist down apologetically when she opens the door. "Sorry," he says, peering around her.
"Grover! Lady Artemis is not hiding in the cabin."
"Right, sorry," he repeats, sheepish. "I—uh—"
"You'd better have a good reason for waking me up, goat boy." Thalia puts a hand on her hip, quickly recovering.
"Yeah, uh—" Grover's still looking past her—"Chiron wants to talk to you."
Leyla, a daughter of Demeter, yells something rude to Grover from the background. Thalia takes him by the arm and leads him outside. "Grover, they don't like being woken up, especially not by boys."
"I'm a satyr," he replies, looking offended.
"Never mind. Thanks for the message." Thalia realizes she's barefoot, shrugs, and heads for the Big House.
/./././
Chiron is playing pinochle by himself on the porch when she walks up. It's maybe seven or eight by now; too early for Mr. D. to be awake. He probably has a 'hangover'.
"Hey, Chiron," Thalia says, hoping the centaur isn't going to ask her to play with him. She hates pinochle, mostly because she has no idea how to play it.
Looking up from his game, he smiles at her. Thalia genuinely likes spending time around him. He was there for her that first summer when she didn't know where to go, when she didn't know anything about the world she'd left behind or the one she'd entered. He's the one who arranged for her to go to boarding school with Annabeth after she found out her mom had died.
"Have a seat," Chiron offers. He packs up the pinochle (thank the gods!) and settles back into his wheelchair. "It was good to see you this summer."
"Um, yeah," Thalia answers. "It's good to be back. But I don't think the Hunters—"
Chiron chuckles. "Believe me, I am used to it. There's a reason they don't visit very often." He leans in close to her, as if he's about to convey something utterly important. "Thalia, you are always welcome back here. You know you can come back anytime."
Thalia nods slowly. There's something about Chiron that always softens her edges somehow, but what he's telling her makes her a little tense. Why is everyone suddenly assuming they know what's right for her? She can figure things out for herself. She's happy for now, but she's always moving on.
Chiron nods back and moves away; the confidential business is finished. "It occurs to me that I may not see you again for a long time. And as I am still your teacher, technically, I want to measure your progress in manipulating the Mist." Guilt must show on her face because he adds, "You have been practicing, haven't you?"
Thalia crosses her arms. "Believe it or not, I usually have more important things to do than sit around snapping my fingers."
The truth is, she just hates looking stupid. Manipulating the Mist is actually something that Thalia likes. It's fun, almost, to bend everything to an idea, to shift reality just slightly. Some of the Hunters have heard of it, but it's the easiest for Thalia, since her father is just about one of the most powerful Olympians.
She focuses on the lesson (though she drowns out most of Chiron's lecture), trying to keep her mind from wandering too far. Chiron shows her how to shape the facts, how to curve the truth the way she wants to. Thalia wishes that she could expand this. Sitting around snapping her fingers, she wonders if there is a way to reform her life into something different, and if she would ever be able to go back.
/./././
Breakfast—when it finally comes—isn't quiet, but it seems that way to Thalia. Hunters keep talking to her and she keeps nodding at them or saying "yeah" at regular intervals, but some of them have begun to snicker and she knows she'll be the brunt of some joke later.
Artemis is coming in an hour.
What exactly does she want?
This is not the time for procrastination.
Eat your eggs.
The choice is hers.
But there is no time.
What could Zeus be thinking?
Drink your orange juice.
Look them in the eyes.
Look her in the eyes. Tell her what you mean.
Now drink your juice.
"Why isn't there coffee?" Thalia says loudly. Conversation stops at the Artemis table. Oh gods, what if she really is crazy?
No one would understand if she told them that there are just a lot of pieces of her, and right now most of them don't know where to go.
/./././
Artemis comes like a blackout during the critical scene in a movie. Artemis is the critical scene, the time bomb in the car or the hostage situation or whatever, and her arrival is the blackout. She is her own anticlimax.
Thalia doesn't try to mention this. Her thoughts are too mangled.
Gods and goddesses don't need transport, so Artemis basically appears out of nowhere. Most of the campers don't particularly care, especially after Thursday's tomato juice incident, but a few of them are waiting around and talking to Thalia. Grover just about faints when the goddess makes her appearance.
The Hunters all greet her, and she returns their gestures with a delicate smile and a few words. The few campers who have shown up sit around trying to look interested, and even polite. Thalia nods respectfully when her turn comes. She tries to turn, but Artemis locks eyes with her.
Thalia knows that the goddess can see everything—every thought she's had about leaving, every conversation and every mention and even the things she said to ghost-Luke. It seems like one of the longest minutes of her life. She tries to keep from biting her lip.
But Thalia isn't ashamed. She doesn't hide anything.
When Artemis pulls away, her face is unreadable, but she isn't angry. The Hunters stand gracefully, patiently, though some twitch with the thought of freedom. Already, the campers have turned away to their own tasks. Thalia now sees her path curving and stretching away from that line, a secant or a tangent to this place but nothing more. The math of it is something only she understands. Her lack of an education is embarrassing, but she's not exactly complaining.
As Artemis and the Hunters leave camp, Thalia uses all the concentration she can spare to make one last storm. Even though the storm can't pass the magical weather barriers, it surrounds the camp like four wet walls closing in. A promise, a taunt, a picture. That's her goodbye.
/./././
So this is her new life. She's had so many she doesn't even want to count. Change comforts her now, where stability used to.
"I know what is in your mind," Artemis says softly. "And I accept it."
From the outside, none of this seems any different. But she knows what no one else can see. If everyone is an animal, hers is one that runs and runs, that never stops running. But she is tired. And soon she is turning around.
Acceptance.
Because, even when she didn't know it, that is all she was really hoping for.
