They Fell, But They Didn't Realise It

It was all Percy could do to resist throwing his hands in the air and walking out of his current predicament altogether.

He really was trying—putting every last drop of his effort into casting that Fyrmarc once and for all. But he couldn't, not when a voice taunted him in the back of his mind, reminding him of his mistakes and failures.

He didn't even know how he summoned the Fyrmarcs in the Big House—he was too blinded by his own anger at the time to notice anything else.

When Percy's eyes fluttered open, he felt the veins of magic dissolve into the air.

"Good," appraised the goddess, and all he could do was to stare incredulously at her.

"But—" He gestured to himself, aggravated as Artemis didn't even spare him a glance. "I did nothing. So far, I've done no progress, and all that I've been doing is failing."

Miserably, a voice in his head added. Percy agreed.

It was then when the silver-eyed goddess finally tilted her head at him, a frown on her lips. "Failing is far different from trying."

"Same thing. Trying's just a nice way of saying that you failed."

Artemis gave him a look before kneeling on the grass, her thin white-lasting chiton brushing her bare ankles and unto the grainy sand. For a second, Percy thought she might lay down on her back and rest but instead, the goddess reached a hand to the waters.

"It comes all natural to you, doesn't it? Controlling the water," she said, gliding the tips of her fingers across the lake, circled ripples at her wake.

"Well, yes," muttered Percy, stopping himself from blurting a deadpanned 'duh.' To elaborate, he willed droplets of water to rise, swirling around one another and creating a mini tornado dancing on Artemis's palm.

"How do you do it, then? What does it feel like?"

"Like I'm talking to another person," he said immediately, somehow surprised that he knew so right away. "I tell them what to do, and they obey me straightaway."

Artemis only nodded. "And with the Fyrmarcs?"

The little water tornado dropped, splashing into Artemis's palm. He wondered if it hit her face, too. "The Fyrmarcs, they . . . they don't listen. I don't know if I'm trying too hard or I'm not trying hard enough."

The goddess inched closer near the shore, leaving shallow burrows of her feet digging deeper in the sand. Contrarily, Percy was staring at wooden ledge that outstretched towards the lake, giving him memories he didn't particularly sit well with.

"—letting it go?"

Percy couldn't stop the embarrassing heat of red going straight to his cheeks. "Erm, what were you saying?"

Even if Artemis wasn't facing him, he could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. "What if you try letting it go?" she repeated, her voice soft.

He didn't know what she was talking about. Letting what go? His harrowing past, bringing him nightmares and flashbacks every chance it got?

The goddess saw his blank expression—almost unnerving, in a twisted way. "Try letting your powers run free. There's something holding you back." Percy dropped his mouth to protest, but Artemis raised a hand before saying gently, "I can see it in your face."

He did his best to think of an appropriate answer to reply back with, but found that he was speechless for once.

Artemis stood up, her back straight and her shoulders taut—the grace of a goddess. "Try it one more time, Percy."

He was tired; tired of this, tired of failing, tired of everything.

Percy closed his eyes anyway.

His fists were curled, his thumb brushing against his calloused knuckles, trying to keep the thriving raw magic within him locked. Imprisoned. Trapped.

He felt reality going down on him, its crushing weight making him feel like he was holding the sky once more on his strengthless shoulders. Scared. Coward.

Damn right I'm scared, he internally snarled at the voice in his head. What if I hurt someone, and I end up painting their body in ribbons of blood again? What if those I care about won't talk to me ever again? What does Estelle think? What about Faith—

"You're shaking." That voice—one that reminded him too much of his mother. His mother that was now dead. "Let go. No one will be hurt."

Swear it on the River Styx, he tried to plead, but he didn't.

Slowly, with a taint of danger licking at his flaming insides, Percy's white-clasped fists undid themselves as swathes of glossy golden twisted in his hands, coiling around his arm from his elbows to his fingertips.

Think of the Fyrmarcs as creatures, perhaps, Chaos had said, trying to control it would be wrong, but learning to be one with it would be right.

He let go.

He found himself wishing to see the violet Fyrmarc stark against the Infirmary wall once more; he imagined whispers of fire bursting, writhing into the air by his will.

"That's it."

Percy felt a hundred miles away from his own body—he could hear things that he shouldn't be able to hear. The tiny shutter of leaves, the rush of waves lapping upon one another, and even the tiniest hint of magic thrumming in his veins.

His eyes flittered open.

There, poised high and steady in front of him, was a glowing Fyrmarc similar to the one he'd summoned in the Infirmary—dark, purplish, hellacious. A rush of wind blew from the symbol and to the air, spreading through the vicinity like light-smoked clouds.

Artemis took a step back. "There it is."

"I've actually done it. I feel . . ." Percy intertwined his fingers together, a few snaps of bone cracking in his ears. ". . . free. Like I can do anything in the world."

The goddess nodded, but there seemed to be something resigned-like to the way she moved. "In fairness, you can do anything in the world, if you tried."

Percy found himself bitterly chuckling. "I'm not the only one. The Dark has the Book, don't they? They can easily learn how to control the Fyrmarcs too."

"I—" Artemis looked just about ready to point out something right before she murmured in a frail voice, "yes, that's true."

"Do you think it worked and the campers' memories are restored?" asked Percy, noticing the goddess's constant fumbling. The aglow Fyrmarc crumbled, and all he could think was that hopefully, it's done its job. "Is something . . . bothering you?"

The goddess had taken on a panic-stricken look, drawn all over her face. "I'm wasting time. I need to—"

"Time?" he confusedly said. "What are you—I thought you said—"

Percy took a guarded step backwards, his mouth dropping open when Artemis's form flickered, as if the world was trying to suck her in. For no more than a second, the whole sky flashed white.

He froze. "Was that . . ."

Artemis grimaced. "Father can be really impatient."

"Heard that one before," he muttered under his breath but by the look on the goddess's face, he could tell that she heard. Percy bit his lip, nodding to Artemis grimly. "Well, um . . . goodbye."

"It's not goodbye," the other gasped, another whirl of grey swooshing in around her body wildly, joining in on the other reels of wan white and resplendent silver.

"See you later, then," he offered, his jaw feathered out as her feet started disappearing in a cloud of smoke. "Make sure to give uncle thunder-crack a piece of my mind, yeah?"

A puff of snow-like dust erupted in his face, followed by a blinding flare of light a moment later. Even as the ghost-smiled goddess was nowhere to be seen, Percy could've sworn he heard her chuckle right before evaporating into wind.

With his breath caught in his throat, he pivoted around, dreading of what was to come when he made his way back to camp, only to be met with a sight that gave him a heart attack and unexplainable glee.

"Lucy!" Percy wanted to hug the wyvern then and there, but the beast didn't seem to optimistic. "Gods, Faith is rubbing off on me." At the accidental mention of the healer, his heart strained.

If Artemis could forgive him, surely the others can too?

Except, I don't deserve to be forgiven, he thought to himself.

Lucius's angular jaw pressed to his forehead, his mane brushing against his cold cheeks. As if to comfort him.

"Monster, my ass," Percy snickered half-heartedly, muzzling into the beast's neck as he made a low purr of agreement. He pulled himself from Lucius's clutches, looking at him in the eyes. "All right. I need you to do something for me."

*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*

Percy didn't think it was a bad idea.

As he made his long stride back to the heart of the camp, Lucius stalked beside him in every step he made, baring his teeth at those who tried to approach him.

Well, it wasn't the best technique to try and avoid all of humanity, but it still worked.

Percy made sure to keep his head low, wishing the ground would swallow him up from existence as he, with just the right amount of self-confidence he could gather, walked towards the Infirmary.

I'm gonna get hell for this, he thought, clenching his hands into tight, secure fists, afraid that another surge of smoking fire would spew out of his palms.

Taking another deep breath, ignoring the stares he got from the other campers nearby, he halted; his face a few inches away from the newly-installed Infirmary doors. He vaguely remembered the healers breaking the door down, which made him wonder if there were tons of extra doors for broken entrances just like—

"Lucius!" The wyvern practically shoved the doors open with his powerful body, and he swore there was a snap of clicking metal in his ears.

"Di immortales, Luc—no! He—he's not harmless, it's okay, it's just Lucy, well, Lucius to be clear—yes, Chase, didn't you know?"

Percy chewed on his inner lip harshly, focusing on the one thing running through his mind: I think they'll need new doors.

Even with his head tilted down so far he was basically facing the floor full-on, he could still familiarise Faith's ridiculously intricate clothing (which Aphrodite chose, so he suppose the goddess deserved a clap on the back for her flawless fashion sense) and chestnut hair in the corner of his eyes.

"You never told me about—about that wyvern!" Annabeth's voice rang inside.

"That's not my fault, Chase." Faith ran her hands all over Lucius's mane, unaware of the son of Poseidon behind the beast. "You didn't ask, so I didn't say anything. Plus, Lucy is a very—"

The hunter caught sight of him. Percy almost wished she didn't, because the look of delight that had taken in on her features earlier vanished just as fast.

"Who's there, Faith?" he heard Annabeth call out shrilly, followed by a titter of scolding hisses from healers scrambling about.

Faith didn't answer, clearly uncomfortable all of a sudden. Just as she seemed devoted to urging the wyvern in, Kayla bustled over, her mouth agape enough for a tiny owl to fit in as she stared at Lucius.

"If you are planning to bring that in—" Faith started to protest, but the other healer wasn't having any of it. "—then it's either you give up and lock that monster in some sort of cage or you leave. Now."

Faith mockingly stuck her tongue out, draping an arm over Lucius like he was just an old-time friend. "No can do. I'm sure the other healer would allow this pretty thing—" Wyvern. Pretty thing. Mhm. "—to enter the Infirmary with no problem at all."

"Will Solace, you mean?" Kayla crossed her arms.

"What? No!" Faith derisively jutted her chin out in thought, acting as if she's forgotten Percy was there in the first place. "The other healer with curly hair. Black curly hair. Very, very tall. Dan, was it?"

"Hey! Is anybody gonna get the wyvern out of here?" Annabeth's voice shouted across the room, obviously haven't seeing Percy yet. "It looks like it's deciding which one of us to eat first."

"What Faith wants, Faith gets," another healer piped up, carrying an armful of glass vials and arranging them in a shelf with caution. Judging from the 'black curly hair' Faith described, he must be Dan. It seemed like she somehow got along with almost all the other healers in the Infirmary, talking with them like they've been friends for a long, long time.

Faith clicked her tongue. "See, Danny boy sees reason. I like him."

"It's Daniel, thank you very much. And for your information, everyone likes my very sparkling personality."

"I don't," quipped Kayla, turning on her heel to face Faith with a conniving glare. "Time to make your little pet leave, Faith. I'm having none of that creature's presence inside my Infirmary."

"Your Infirmary," mused Faith, receiving a threatening glower from the other. She huffed. "Gods, fine. And just so you know, I am not going to lock up Lucy in some sort of cage. Not that it's bad; I just think he can break out cages like it's made of clay."

Kayla looked wholly unimpressed. When the wyvern's barbed tail tantalisingly neared her, she visibly moved to the side as Faith chortled at her.

"Out!" Kayla demanded.

Faith's eyebrows went to the ceiling. "Oh, all right." She made an effort to lean in towards Lucius, burying her head to one side of his veined neck as she loudly whispered, "I am so sorry, Lucy, but this not very nice healer wants you out. I suggest you eat her when nobody's looking—don't you growl at me like that! I know you want to eat her. Just remember to clean up after—"

"Faith," warned Kayla.

The hunter squared her shoulders back, patting Lucius on the head like the creature was a common household pet. "Off you go. Shoo."

The wyvern teetered back, stretching his savage wings resting at his sides. Without another word, Lucius treaded off, his narrowed gaze fixed on the Canoe lake. Any other camper who happened to be on his path waddled away like a flock of birds.

If animals could strut, Percy supposed the way Lucius strode through the camp like he owned it was how it would look like.

When the awkward moments of silence dawned on them, he almost wanted to make the wyvern return.

Percy's lips parted slightly to speak, ready to apologise, to beg, to do anything that would warrant Faith's forgiveness.

But the hunter simply spared a glance at him before turning on her back and making her way towards Annabeth's bed. Percy peered a look inside, staring at the bed with closed binds. Thalia. That was where Thalia was.

Kayla considered him; he could almost hear the gears of her mind working.

"Are you going to come in or not?" she said finally.

Percy wanted to freak, but decided not to. "Yes. Um, thank you."

When he stepped in the Infirmary, on his way to approach Faith (who seemed to be exchanging a word with Annabeth rather hastily), he felt a hand tug at his elbow.

Percy came to a stop, catching the swift look Annabeth sent him right before he faced a worry-faced Kayla. "What is it?"

"Don't be so hard on . . ." Kayla tilted her head in Faith's direction. ". . . them." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she left it at that with a sorrowful look.

Percy swallowed as her hand dropped. "Yeah. Sure. Um . . . thanks."

The healer squeezed his arm in what he thought was supposed to be a reassurance as she walked past him. Percy took a breath, ignoring the suspicious eyefuls he got as he forced his legs to stride across the room, all the way to where Annabeth and Faith seemed to be in a heated conversation.

Annabeth saw him first, elbowing Faith rather overtly to shut the healer up.

At first, all three of them did nothing but stare at each other. This went on for a full five seconds, enough for awkward tension to settle in between them. Percy considered leaving, often throwing Thalia's bed subtle looks, hoping she was okay.

No. Of course Thalia wasn't going to be okay. Physically, maybe. Mentally? Not so much.

Annabeth coughed loudly, raising her head just slightly to meet Percy's weary eyes. "If you're wondering, Thalia's going to be fine."

He let his gaze drop to Faith, who sat on Annabeth's bed too. The hunter seemed to busy herself by repeatedly crumpling and smoothing the thick blanket of the bed, pretending she wasn't all that interested in the conversation they were having.

Percy knew otherwise. He stiffly nodded. "Yeah. Erm . . ." What was he supposed to say? I didn't mean it? If you're angry, I wouldn't mind a punch to the face? I wish I could take it all back?

"I'm sorry," he decided, feeling a dead weight drop to his toes.

Annabeth didn't move—instead, her eyes darted from him to Faith in an obvious manner. Abruptly, she stood up, nearly knocking Percy over.

"I'm just going to get myself a glass of water," the daughter of Athena dismissed herself with a straight face, disregarding Faith who was tugging at Annabeth's camp tee-shirt in a clear blind panic.

Percy almost felt bad when the blond brushed Faith's hand off, striding past Percy and to the water dispenser opposite of the room.

He suddenly felt self-conscious, even as the hunter avoided to look at him. In his head, he had planned a whole apology speech that he hoped was enough for her to accept, but now all that filled his mind was blank space.

"No," said Faith sharply before he could even drop his mouth open. She had stood up as well, lifting her chin at him. Even as her form was shorter and more delicate-looking than his, the hunter could still definitely be terrifying when the occasion called for it.

Percy felt a sick, tight knot squirm in his stomach. "I'm—I didn't—I was—"

"Don't, okay? Just—don't." Faith threw him her wolf stare, one that made her amber-filled eyes look like living fire. "Apologise to Thalia when she's awake. Not to me. Not to anybody."

"I—" Percy felt too many emotions, too many feelings for one human being to handle all at once. Frustration boiled inside him, desperation settled in his eyes, guilt flooded his head . . .

I know you hate me for what I did, he tried to say, and I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry.

Faith seemed to read his mind as her the sharp lines of her mouth softened, but that didn't mean her glare became less menacing. "You . . . Look, Jackson, I don't know what to think, okay? I'm just . . . I'm trying to do what I think is right, and in my head, that means standing up for Thalia, but I don't—"

"No," he blurted, shaking his head at her quickly as Faith stared at him confusedly. "I mean, yes, I understand what you're trying to do, a—and it's fine if you don't forgive me. Hell, do your worst to me if you have to, I . . ." I won't blame you. Ever.

Faith broke eye contact with him, the fury that had been once dwelling in her eyes fading into a sheer of anguish. He didn't mean to flinch when her hand rose, intending to rest on his shoulder. Almost immediately, her hand dropped to her side.

"I'm not going to . . ." Faith gaped at him, horror slowly falling on her face. "I would never—"

"Excuse me, please," said a male healer, nudging them over so he could inch towards Thalia's bed. When the curtains swished a little to the side, Percy saw a sickening pool of blood staining the sheets.

"Oh." Faith noticeably relaxed, the strained air around them easing flippantly at the presence of the healer. How can she do that—act all nonchalant and pretend that the last few seconds didn't happen? "Um, Jackson, this is—"

"Daniel," blurted Percy, his cheeks blooming instantly right after. "I—uh, heard. A while ago. Your name's Daniel."

The black-haired healer threw him a faint smile—which, in Percy's opinion, looked less genuine and more like a snarky smirk. "Daniel Cordell at your service."

"Dildo car bells what now?"

Daniel cast him a look. "Pardon?"

"Healer Dan it is, then," Faith interrupted, clamping down on her lips hard as if to restrain a pained laugh. She turned to the healer; her actions stiffer than the last. "Is . . . when will Thalia wake?"

Daniel effortlessly twisted a small phial filled to the brim with ambrosia between his wiry fingers. "Soon. But that doesn't mean she'll leave the moment she wakes up."

Percy wasn't listening, and he felt bad for not doing so, but he was too busy scanning the male healer over and over. The coal-black hair curled slightly at the end, rugged features, broad shoulders . . . even the way Daniel moved reminded him of someone particularly awful.

". . . the other healers have probably told you this, but there'll be hideous scarring and I'm afraid that even ambrosia won't get rid of it," continued Daniel, placing down the ambrosia phials with a clink on the nearest table to his side.

Faith took a determined poise. "Not ambrosia. Something else will get rid of it."

Percy's attention snapped to the conversation he missed, feeling a lump in his throat tighten. "How?" he dared ask.

Faith's eyes flared. "You. Fyrmarcs. You can heal the sca—the cuts with them."

She spoke as if she was trying to convince herself, convince him that he could do it. Percy wished he could agree, but something in his head told him that the scars would remain—a painful reminder of his once foolish mistakes. He could only hope there wouldn't be a second time.

Percy lowered his gaze, staring at his inner forearms as if he were expecting veins of white to pop up again.

"Yes," he decided, for their sake. "I can heal her."

That's all your good at, a voice taunted at the back of his mind, loud and clear, lying and lying like a coward.

Faith visibly exhaled. "Great. You can heal Thalia."

"Yeah," said Percy again, trying to block out his inner self that seemed intent on shouting negative thoughts at him. "Of course I can."

"Okay." Faith clasped her hands together, restlessly squirming on the balls of her feet. "So, what are you waiting for?"

"W—what?"

Percy was baffled—more like taken aback, actually. He wasn't the only one who heard; Daniel had almost knocked over the crystal phials set on the table, which would have ended rather disastrously.

Faith, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed. "Now. I don't—I don't care how you do it, just do it now." Her voice trembled a bit, and he swore he heard her swear under her breath for stuttering.

Daniel stared at her for a moment before nodding emphatically, but Percy could see the air of uneasiness that hung within. "Very well, then. If you wish to do it—"

"Which he will," countered Faith.

"—then there's no better time than now," finished Daniel, swooshing the curtains open as the sound of roughed fabric clinging against metal poles rung in their ears.

Percy felt his heartbeat speed up. "Slow down, slow down. I can't—you know I can't—"

"You have to—it's your—" Faith looked frustrated, her breaths coming in short puffs as thin strands of her hair brushed her hot cheeks. This time, she didn't even mind to hide the crack in her voice. "At least try. Please."

Percy felt the room spin, the light too intense for his eyes. Mustering up the last drops of courage he had left, he let his wavering gaze fall on the unconscious being right beside him.

Thalia. Oh, Thalia. Her skin was a ghostly white, the darkening shadows below her eyes and cheekbones more distinct than ever. Her limp hair hung around her face, morbidly reminding him of the beautiful broken body that once belonged to his mother.

Blood, a voice screamed, blood by your hands.

"We cleaned it out," said Daniel quietly, narrowly avoiding that word that was currently ringing in Percy's head: blood.

"It's . . ." Percy couldn't bring himself to speak. In the Big House, he never really saw what exactly he had done to Thalia, but now . . . It was no wonder why all of them now looked at him as if he were no more than a monster.

Even with Thalia's tank top and jacket, he could make out the thin scarlet lines running down her body.

"I did that," he whispered, not loud enough for any of them to hear, "I'm a monster."

Daniel gave them a pointed look, his mouth set in a hard line. "Best I leave you two be." And with that, he slipped away, leaving them with the privacy they needed.

Percy didn't know what to do. He'd been able to summon the Fyrmarcs so easily earlier; but now, his confidence faltered. When he was training with Artemis, the fact that he wouldn't be able to hurt the her was slightly comforting. But with Faith, and so many other people he could hurt again . . .

"I can't do it," he breathed.

Faith didn't look at him. His words hung between them, the meaning as clear as crystal: it won't work.

He watched her gleaming eyes scan over Thalia's brutal wounds, occasionally catching her wince or grimace.

"I know," Faith murmured, her actions steadier than how she spoke. He froze. "It was stupid. Hoping, I mean. Hoping that it would work."

"Better to hope than give up."

"I was—I should have never—" She trembled, and it was enough to make Percy feel bad. Guilty. Undeserving. The healer took a careful breath, as if letting the cool air in the Infirmary compose her, and—

"Faith? Is that you?"

Percy scolded himself for letting his disappointment get to the best of him when a ginger-head popped up from the half-drawn curtains.

"Phoebe," Faith squeaked, quickly pulling the drapes close to hide Thalia from sight and half-heartedly attempting to cover Percy with her small frame. Percy swallowed, his mind repeating the words Faith had said over and over in his head—what was she about to say? She should have never what?

Faith loudly exhaled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to—" Phoebe paused, her eyes finally landing on Percy and the shut curtains around Thalia's bed. "Oh. You're here."

"Yeah." Percy shoved his ill-minded frustration down, down, and down. "I am."

"How was the, er . . ." Phoebe looked uneasy, and even if Faith wasn't facing Percy, he could almost imagine a dirty glare on her face. "What happened with Lady Artemis?"

Faith startled, her scowl dropping. "Lady—what—what about Artemis? Did something happen?"

"She doesn't know?" hissed Percy, earning a helpless shrug from the ginger-haired hunter.

"Lady Artemis came to me personally," said Phoebe, her stare on him, searching and looking for any signs of unusual body language. "The other hunters don't know. Only I do. What happened with—"

"Hello, I'm still here," snapped Faith, reminding them that her presence was still in the small cramped space they were in. Her eyes looked wild, something like panic settling in them. "Care to share what's going on?"

Phoebe looked sheepish, but she didn't speak a word. Percy felt sick, realising he was going to be the one to explain.

He sighed, giving in resignedly. "Lady Artemis came here earlier. She . . . she had a talk with me, and I—" a nervous swallow. "—I told her everything."

Faith frowned. Phoebe leaned forward, her eyebrows creased in curiosity.

"You told her . . . you told her everything?" said Faith slowly, as if it was particularly difficult to wrap her head around his words.

Percy tightly nodded. "Yeah. I did."

"Ev—everything?"

"Everything."

Phoebe cut in through the thick tension weighing on their shoulders, ignoring how Faith's face paled lightly, "So, Lady Artemis knows? About . . . this?" The hunter weakly gestured to Thalia's bed, clear distress shaking in her voice.

Percy allowed a tiny tremor of relish to wash over him—he was glad that even though they didn't seem to be in 'great friend' terms with him right now, they were still somewhat worried for his sake; of what will become of him.

Or it's fake sympathy, said that irritating voice again, they don't care for—

"Yes," said Percy a little too loudly, receiving one too many odd looks thrown his way from the occupied healers about. He didn't care; he was just glad his inner negative self was silenced for once. "I told Lady Artemis about Thalia, but it seemed as if she already knew."

If anything, Faith looked even more sick. "And what did she do?" To you, he could almost hear her say.

Percy brought his hand to the scruff of his neck, mindlessly scratching it. "She let me off easy." I didn't deserve it. "She also taught me how to . . . how to control my powers, I guess. The Fyrmarcs and all."

He knew the two hunters were trying to be subtle, and it pleased him to hear the slight exhale of breath that fell from their lips.

Faith was the first to speak up, her voice still shaky. "She didn't . . . do anything? Well, I mean like, anything . . . ?"

Percy knew where this was going. He offered her a sly smile. "Punishment? No. Much to my disappointment."

Faith went rigid, right as Phoebe clasped her hands together and said rather boisterously, "That's great! You're fine and back on your two feet. I'm sure the other hunters would be . . ."

From the look on the ginger-haired hunter's face, they both knew she said the wrong thing.

"Sorry," said Phoebe quickly, actually looking genuinely remorseful. "I'll just . . . tell the other hunters about your prolonged stay."

He noticed how she carefully made sure not to mention how the rest of the hunters would feel about his 'prolonged stay,' which he was more than grateful for.

With those last words, Phoebe set on giving them both a rough squeeze on their shoulders before leaving and shutting the door as quietly as possible behind her.

Faith swallowed. Percy figured dealing with pain and betrayal was much better than . . . than drowning in this bottomless pit of guilt.

He inhaled sharply. "I'm sor—"

"I shouldn't have blamed you for—"

"Yeah." Percy fidgeted awkwardly.

Faith interlocked her fingers, stroking her pinked palms with her other thumb. "Yeah. Okay."

Percy's cheeks flamed, silently trying to remember when was the last time he was stuck in a situation as awkward as this one.

"You . . ." Faith began, and Percy had to shamelessly inch closer to hear her small whispers. "When I asked if there was—if there was punishment, you said . . . you said no, and that you were disappointed that there wasn't any."

His face went slack, and all he could hear now was the shuffling footsteps of the many healers scampering about. He felt a tug somewhere, an agonising pull at his chest, birthing a bloom of pain across his body.

Faith looked at him, her eyes meeting his. Honey against the seas. Gold against green. "I don't think you deserved it. The punishment. You're . . . you're a great person, Percy. Some people might only see your mistakes, your powers, but I—" she halted, unsure. "—I think you're just a kid who never really had a choice."

Percy let the sound of bustling people and clinking metal fill his ears instead of his uneven breathing. A second felt like a day, and so a few more of it felt like an eternity. There was a silly feeling fluttering in his insides—a feeling that he hadn't felt for some time now, one that had always made him ridiculously giddy—

"I've never had someone tell me that before," he admitted softly, the hard lines on his face easing. "It's always responsibilities this and responsibilities that."

"Yeah?" Faith laughed quietly, but there was no humour in it. "I've always . . ."

Percy raised an eyebrow, confused as to what made the hunter freeze. "What is it?"

"I—" Faith started groping around her arm wildly, the alarm flashing in her eyes. "It's nothing."

"Nothing my ass! What are you looking for?"

"Maybe—maybe it's just around here somewhere, I just need to—"

"Faith!"

She stopped, her breaths coming in short.

Before Percy could think straight, he had already both his calloused hands gripping at her shoulders. As steady as possible, he said, "What is it?"

Faith's eyes fluttered shut for a second, her throat exposed to him as she let out a distressed noise. Slowly, her other arm rose until her wrist was in front of his face. When her eyes blinked open, she croaked out, "My bracelet's gone."

"Brace—" He nearly choked. "Your bracelet? The hunter bracelet? The i-can-turn-into-a-bow bracelet?"

"Yes!" snapped Faith, her voice quieting down to a rasp. "It can't—it's impossible to lose your bracelet when you become an official hunter, and it will only disappear if—" she paused, her eyes wide.

Percy, with an awful trail of dread creeping up his spine, mustered the last bits of his courage to ask, "If what?"

"If you're not a hunter anymore," whispered Faith, small and defeated.

author's note:

we finally reached my favourite part of this story: angst, angst, and angst. oh, and did i mention ANGST?

don't worry, i promise there'll be cute and soft fluff soon.

spoiler alert: after that, there'll be more pain and suffering. i am not sorry, if that's what you think. i'm just enjoying sipping tea with satan here.

on the other hand, thank you very much for still having the time and patience for this story! i haven't posted in two weeks because i was preparing for online school. once again, thank you!

SHAMELESS SELF-PROMO ALERT

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