Sorry Was Always Enough
"IT'S GONE?"
"NO, IT'S UP MY ASS!" Faith practically screeched, her throat getting scratchier and scratchier as every agonising second passed. "YES, THE BRACELET IS GONE!"
Percy didn't bother to close his mouth as he abhorrently watched Faith and the rest of the Hunt have an intense screaming match, one that made him wonder just how their bodies did not collapse from the ear-splitting sounds that echoed from their throats.
No one even paid him the slightest bit of attention—they were all too busy panicking and shrieking too remember that they were furious at him for what he did to Thalia.
"But—but it can't be gone!" exclaimed Caille, a hunter that Percy believed to be the most mature out of all the girls. It was almost hilarious seeing the horror shift on their faces. "You can't lose a hunter's bracelet!"
"Well, well, well!" Faith threw her arm up, shoving both her bare wrists in front of her fellow hunters' shocked faces. "Surprise, motherfu—"
Percy shoved the urge to laugh despite the critical situation they were in. It was almost remarkable; it seemed like the more distressed Faith was, the more curse words that spewed out of her mouth.
He watched the scene unfold, only realising then there was a hand tugging at the loose edge of his shirt. When he looked down, a bob of mousy brown hair popped up below him.
Young, dark eyes stared back at him. "Estelle," he breathed, a smile making his way to his lips at the sight of her.
"Is it true?" she asked quickly, a little shine of fear gleaming in her eyes.
A sick feeling of nausea made his stomach turn. Even if she didn't specify what exactly was true, they both knew what she meant.
"Yes," he decided, gritting his teeth on his inner bottom lip hard. "It's true. I hurt—"
"Maybe it doesn't mean anything—"
"—we both know damn well it means something!"
Percy winced as he tried to pay attention to his little sister, ignoring the shouts and yells of despaired denial coming from the hunters.
Estelle was still clutching on to his shirt. "What did—you didn't really hurt Thals, did you? She's—she's nice."
"I know." Something painful tugged at his heart. "I don't know why I hurt her either. We were . . . we were arguing at the time. About something stupid." He laughed half-heartedly; there was nothing humorous in what he said at all.
There was a pause; a moment of silence, if not for the raging bellows echoing off of the walls of the Artemis cabin.
"—but you're still a hunter, Faith, you're one of us—"
"—thank you for painfully pointing out the obvious, Cassandra—"
"None of the hunters told me anything," whispered Estelle, averting her gaze from the group of protesting girls and facing him instead. "They only said . . . they said they were mad at you. For almost . . ."
For almost killing Thalia in cold blood, he thought bitterly, swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat.
Taking a deep breath, he asked the one question he's been dreading for. One that he didn't have enough courage to tell Faith, but this . . . this was his sister.
"Do you . . ." He felt himself stumble over his words. "Do you hate me?"
Estelle inhaled sharply; her eyes wide. "I don't think you meant to do it."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I don't—"
"—did you drop it or something?"
"Seriously? Me? Drop my bracelet? Maybe it's you who fucking dropped your brain!"
"I don't hate you," said Estelle softly, her fingers twiddling nervously. "You're my brother."
Percy fidgeted. She didn't hate him, not because she forgave what he did, but because he was her brother. What if I wasn't your brother? the same voice in his head challenged, would you forgive me then?
Percy didn't speak. He left it at that, afraid that his voice would betray him if he spoke.
When he looked back at the hunters, the shouting tirade he'd been expected diminished. They were all glaring at him, making him feel like a tiny ant in the ground about to be stamped on by a nasty-looking shoe.
Percy did the one thing he was so stupidly good at; he stared back.
"You!" a hunter he didn't quite recognise shrieked, pointing at him rather obscenely. "What's he doing here?"
Percy felt light-headed. Slowly, very slowly, he neared closer towards the door; his one chance to escape the hunters' wrath. "I'm just going to leave, if you don't mind—"
"You are not going anywhere!" hissed Faith, her face pink from her neck to the tips of her ears. He supposed it was from all the dreadful screaming that went on for a full fifteen minutes.
Percy nervously scratched the back of his head. "I'm not?"
"You're not!" said multiple hunters at once, all in sync as their eyes flashed.
A hunter adorning a black bob cut and glinting grey eyes rounded on him. "What happened to Faith's bracelet? Did you steal it?" she demanded in a thick accent that sounded rather familiar.
"Me?" said Percy incredulously, pointing at himself. He looked back at Faith imploringly, who only crossed her arms at him and silently went, I can't do anything to stop them. "What makes you think I would steal—"
"How can we be sure you didn't do anything with it?" said the black-haired hunter again, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Gods!" Faith finally burst out, hiding her face in her hands. "Jackson didn't steal anything! I was there, Wren!"
"Which proves my point!" shouted Phoebe, shunting Wren to the side, waving her arms around maniacally that she could've resembled Lucius's flapping wings. "You must've dropped the darn thing!"
"You can't just drop the darn thing!" argued Faith, her frustration clearer than ever on her face as her shoulders visibly sagged. "I'm not a hunter anymore. Lady Artemis fulfilled my wish in just the wrong timing, I suppose."
Percy couldn't think of anything else possibly worse that Faith could say to ignite the hunters' shock.
But this time, there wasn't any shouting. Not even a single sound that bounced off the walls; all that came to greet them was inevitable silence. Every single hunter blinked at Faith, as if her words were so torturously difficult to decipher.
Unbeknownst to him, Estelle's mouth went ajar, her head sardonically whipping from him to Faith in sudden understanding.
"Preposterous!" choked Phoebe, who shoved her fists into the deep pockets of her aviator jacket. He could see she was not-so-subtly trying to hide her shaking form. "You can't possibly—you wouldn't—"
"It's true," interrupted Percy quietly, a surge of boldness swimming through his vision. "Faith planned to leave the Hunt long ago; she told me on our quest."
It was only by the name of his stupidity that his risky uncalculated words were enough to spark both indignation and morbid curiosity from the hunters.
"She—she told you?" asked Caille, her face now a pale white. She whirled to Faith, who was now anxiously muttering to herself. "You told him?"
"Yes!" snapped Faith, right before she took a second to calm herself and soften her voice. "Yes. I planned on leaving long ago, before our quest even happened, and I confronted Lady Artemis about it. She, well . . . she said she didn't mind. My reasons were understandable."
"Reaso—" Phoebe stopped; her eyes as big as saucers. By then, everyone stuck their eyes on him; and for about the umpteenth time of his life, he didn't know what was going on and what exactly made them look at him like . . . like he was some sort of . . .
"What did I do this time?" he demanded, exasperated as to why he was being ogled at like some sort of animal.
A hunter scoffed. "What did you do this time? Oh, real comedian—let's see, first things first, you almost killed Thalia!"
The world halted, as if everything suddenly went in slow motion. His heart slowed; his jaw went slack. There was a small, delicate hand that wrapped around his other arm, but he didn't mind it. You almost killed Thalia. You almost killed Thalia. You almost killed—
Percy felt his lips part unconsciously, but a panic that shook over him made it close again. He didn't trust himself to speak—he was afraid his voice would betray him, or that tears would spring from his eyes. He knew so because of the tremors dancing on her skin like a vice.
Apologise to Thalia when she's awake, he could hear Faith say. Not to me. Not to anybody.
And so, he did. Percy stayed silent, shame clouding above his head like a storm. If anything, that just made the hunters more agitated than ever.
"Well?" demanded a hunter; Wren. "Don't you have something to say for yourself?"
Percy froze, trying to avoid the eyes that glued on him as he kept his head down low. Before he knew it, the shadow of a figure neared him, cautious and on guard.
When he lifted his head subtly, for no more than a few centimetres, he was met with Faith's presence standing beside him, her glare defiant. Apologise to Thalia when she's awake. Not to me. Not to—
"I'm sorry," Percy blurted out before he could stop himself, the guilt way stronger than his firm determination. "I know none of you will probably ever forgive me for—for what I did, and it's fine if you don't because it's not like I deserve it anyway, so I guess it's—it's okay if you take out your anger on me or something, not that I'll mind—"
He was rambling. Idiotically, at that.
A hand snaked past his arm and gently patted him in the back. Percy didn't mind, not at all, especially when Faith's hand gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
He blew out a sigh. "So, yeah. I know sorry isn't enough, but—"
"Sorry," mimicked a hunter, one with blazing green eyes that reminded him too much of himself. "Sorry isn't gonna fix anything, Jackson. Wait until Lady Artemis hears about this."
Percy grew silent, and it was no surprise that Faith and Phoebe did too.
Wren dug her grey-clouded eyes unto them, fire emblazoned within. "Why do I have a feeling telling me that you three know something that we don't?"
Faith dropped her hand, releasing the hold on his arm. He ignored the pathetic feeling of disappointment that ran through his veins, coursing through his blood.
"Yep," said Faith for once, giving in with a sort of stoical voice.
The hunters' eyebrows went straight towards the ceiling in sync.
"Care to be more specific?" urged Wren, looking as if she were shamelessly hopeful.
Faith shifted, refusing to acknowledge the warning look Phoebe threw on her path. "I meant yes. Lady Artemis knows about what—what happened." To Thalia, he tried to stop himself from adding. "She personally came here, from Olympus, to . . ."
Percy bit down on his lips, surprised to find that he was yet to taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He couldn't bring himself to stare back into their sorrowful gazes.
"To what? What did Lady Artemis do?" another hunter demanded.
Faith went rigid, regret written all over her face. She sent an apologetic look his way as she warily twiddled with the hem of her form-fitting shirt.
Percy inhaled shakily. "To talk. Lady Artemis came here so we could talk in private. Just me and her."
The majority of the hunters blinked, trying to process this through their heads.
"To talk?" scoffed Wren, her nostrils flaring. "She didn't strip you off of your role as the guardian of the Hunt?"
"Now that is a definition of blunt," Percy muttered to himself, ignoring the sharp jab of Faith's elbow that dug into his ribs.
"No," said Faith in a firm voice, speaking up for him boldly. "He is still the guardian of the Hunt, and has the right to remain so until Lady Artemis wishes."
"But that's—" Caille cast Percy a pointed look. "Aren't you staying here temporarily? Why don't you leave now, now that—" she paused, her gaze drifting towards Faith in a painstakingly obvious manner.
"Now that what?" he insisted.
All at once, as if they had practiced long ago over and over, several of the hunters released loud sighs. Faith turned a lovely shade of red, rolling her eyes at them before hissing, "We're not like that!"
Puzzled, he asked out loud, "We're not like what?"
Faith muttered something under her breath, a flush of rose spreading through her face until it was practically a strawberry colour.
"It's nothing," she said, her hand immediately going to her wrist to twist her non-existent bracelet incessantly—Percy came to recognise that it had been a habit she developed. He caught her frown a little at the bracelet's missing presence before she waved it off.
"So, you're . . . you're really leaving?" whispered Caille quietly, her eyes shining. Percy took a careful breath, realising she meant leaving us instead of leaving the Hunt.
Faith smiled tightly. "Yes. I suppose I am."
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
Percy slipped out of the Artemis cabin unnoticed, leaving the hunters to graciously bid their goodbyes.
Well, he supposed it wasn't really goodbye, since it was most likely the hunters would be staying with the campers and Romans for a long, long while until the upcoming war was over. By then, he was more than positive that Faith and the hunters would still be able to come in contact with one another way more often than one would think.
Aren't you staying here temporarily? Why don't you leave now?
Percy took a shaky breath. He didn't know what to think. And thinking would mean having to understand. He didn't want to understand—it would've been easier if Lloyd Draco didn't come to camp that day. By now, he would've proposed to Annabeth, and then they'd settle in Camp Jupiter, they'd have a family—
"And now it's all gone," he whispered to himself. Bitterly. Pathetically.
Here he was; in the midst of problems thrown at his feet that he couldn't solve. There were so many—about the war, his magic, his role as the leader of the Light side that he should've gotten used to already . . .
Percy never even had time anymore for himself. He never had enough time to sort out his feelings, mend broken relationships, try to pick pieces of himself one by one . . .
"You were right," said a mellow voice behind him as the sound of a creaking door opened. Caille, he realised, feeling a little stupid for thinking that the voice in his head had finally come to life and was here to rebuke him.
Percy hoisted himself away from the wall he leant to, brushing his palms at the side pockets of his trousers. "Hi."
"You never were one for small talk, huh?" said the brown-haired hunter, eyeing him from head to toe; as if she was trying to read him.
"Yep." Too bad Percy was not an open book, even to himself. If only it were that easy. He felt jittery, finding measly excuses to scratch his nape or run his hands through his hair. "What are you doing out here? And what did you mean, by me being right?"
Caille didn't say anything; she simply shut the door of the Artemis cabin behind her quietly, letting the sound of afternoon chirp and chatter fill the gaps of silence between them. Finally, she met his wary eyes.
"You were right. What you said earlier. Sorry isn't enough," she said stiffly, her eyes beholding a wave of sympathy, "and I think forgiving you is going to take some time."
Percy felt empty—trying to grasp the hidden message beneath her carefully thought-out words. When he opted to reply, he decided it was smarter to say silent. And so he did.
Seeing as he was not going to be speaking up anytime soon, Caille started again. "But I think you're trying. That's what matters. You're an odd one, Jackson."
"Haven't I always been?" he couldn't stop himself from saying, a bite edged to his tone. "It's always been me. I can't do anything about that. It's no wonder you want me to leave the Hunt."
He swiftly caught Caille sway uneasily at his words. "I did not want you to leave," she said quietly, her whispers almost melodic under the afternoon dew. "Not unless you wished to, of course. I just assumed you'd leave the Hunt after . . ."
"After Faith did?" he wondered aloud.
Caille nodded tensely. "Yes. We thought that—that you two were . . ."
"That we were what?"
He didn't know what to make of her staring at him like he was being shone on a new light. "Together."
"What?"
She looked at him blankly, pursing her lips. "We thought you two were together."
"What?" Percy started again, blinking as a frown made its way to his lips. "You thought Faith and I were . . . that we were . . ."
Caille nodded, her lips thinning. "To-ge-ther," she enunciated slowly, as if he were someone particularly dull.
He tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to cotton on to what the hunter might possibly be saying. No, Caille couldn't seriously mean . . .
She caught the way he unsteadily floundered with bated breath. For a second, Percy tried squinting his eyes at her to see if there were any signs from her face that signified she was joking with him. When the truth came down on him like a tidal wave, he felt heat rise to his cheeks, much to his embarrassment.
Caille didn't seem perturbed, not even for a moment. "If you must know, you definitely handled it better than we did."
"Us? Me and Faith? Pfft, I can't even imagine." Actually, Percy could imagine, but it wasn't like he was planning to admit that to anyone anytime soon. Not in this lifetime.
Even as he was quite tempted to delve in the world of his imagination for just a few minutes to think of how he and Faith would actually look like as something more than friends, Percy doubted Caille would appreciate that.
The hunter speculated him with an arched eyebrow, ignoring the cheer of what sounded like a toast to good luck from inside the cabin. "I think you've grown on us, you know."
"Not really. If I did, then you guys would've turned as stupid as I am."
Caille managed a breathy laugh before her face shuttered to nothing. "They're going to come around. The rest of the hunters, I mean. You must know it's hard for us too, to try and—"
Another whoop echoed from inside, this time followed by a string of uproarious goodbyes. He could internally see Faith in the midst of the hunters, being clapped in the back and arms grabbing at any body part they could touch.
Percy didn't give Caille enough time to finish her sentence, smiling at her in understanding. "Yeah. I get it. I'd be mad too. Thalia and I . . ." his voice strained, recalling the events that happened. ". . . we were just fighting about something useless. It wasn't worth it."
If the hunter was trying to be subtle, she failed. Caille inhaled sharply, setting her lips in a hard line. "What were you two fighting about? Faith won't say anything, and neither would any of the cabin counselors or those Roman Praetors."
"I . . ." Percy went quiet. He didn't know just how much exactly they heard, when he was out of his mind. There were things . . . words that both he and Thalia said. Harsh truths. Coated lies. He would forever remember them, ringing in his head every time he looked at her. His friend. Sister.
But Percy couldn't bear to live with any more lies.
He didn't want what happened with Thalia to repeat once more.
He knew it would be wrong, he knew he'd regret it sooner. It would all be his fault if he did this, if he dared risk the lives of innocent but so misinterpreted—
"Nico and Malcolm." Percy's own voice sounded so far away from his own body. He didn't want to hear himself; he didn't want to face the consequences of what he was doing. "They're not missing. They're with the Dark side. But they were forced to. They didn't have a choice. They saved Faith, Annabeth and I in the Underworld so—so we could get away."
Percy couldn't look at Caille—how could he, when he knew that her horrified face would match Thalia's?
The hunter didn't speak. Not after ten seconds; and neither twenty. He could only pitifully keep his head down low, his fists clenched tight by his sides, praying by the gods who still listened that his magic wouldn't burst. Not now. Not anymore.
Caille then spoke. Soft, gentle. But he couldn't tell if it was out of silent fury or genuine care. "Thalia assumed you were protecting traitors."
Percy focused less on the last word; he couldn't bear hearing it again. "I tried to tell her. I—I really did. But Thalia, she—" he choked on his breath, his words now coming in fast stammers that made his fingers shake. "—the Book, it—it was missing, when we went to get it, a —and when Thalia overheard Faith and I talking about Nico and Malcolm, she thought that—that they stole—"
"She thought that they stole the Book," said Caille, her voice nothing more but a whisper.
Percy nodded, only then realising how much information he was letting out. It seemed like a good idea at the time, telling Caille about Nico and Malcolm, but letting her know that the Book was in the hands of the Dark side might've been too much. What if she told somebody, it spreads, everyone panics—
"They're coming our way."
He snapped his gaze up, noticeably confused as his train of thought halted all at once. "What?"
Caille didn't look at him. Percy, baffled, turned his head; he furrowed his eyebrows, his jaw going slack instantly—
It was his friends.
Ex-friends, maybe?
He wasn't so sure.
Percy hurriedly tore his attention away from them, elbowing Caille vehemently to the side in hopes of getting away. "What do they want from you?"
"Me?" The hunter scrunched up her nose, clearly intending to undignifiedly snort at him but thought otherwise. "In case you've forgotten, Jackson, those are your friends. Not mine."
Caille pulled her arm away from his iron-like grasp, promptly attempting to slide away.
Percy caught a slip of her jacket and yanked the hunter beside him, not taking his eyes away from his friends, walking straight at him from across the camp.
"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, quietly pleading in his mind that Caille heard his wordless plea for help.
She looked none too pleased, crossing her arms at him. "These are your friends. Surely you're not afraid of—"
"Percy?"
The son of Poseidon stopped, an unpleasant shiver running up his spine at the sight of Jason. He felt small and vulnerable all of a sudden, especially when he was being scrutinised at by his friends, all huddled up behind the blond.
"Can we have a moment?"
Breath left Percy's throat when he realized Caille had slipped away. Cunning little hunter. "Um, sure," he said, feeling unusually tense. "All right. Er—um, where?"
In his head, he planned everything that would happen the day he reunited with his friends. Percy didn't know why, but he found a tiny squirm of pleasure at the thought of destroying them, ripping them apart limb from limb, because they would never understand the pain he went through—
But he couldn't. Not when his friends looked at him like that.
Percy set his face to be blank and emotionless, waving a hand and brushing them off. "Never mind. We can talk here. It makes no difference. Say whatever you want."
That's it, that merciless voice crooned. Show them that you don't care.
He watched with satisfaction as Jason stilled, and so did the rest behind him.
Hazel looked up at him hesitantly. "You're okay with . . . you want to talk—" she gestured around them hesitantly. "—here?"
Percy could've laughed. "Sure. There's no one listening, isn't there? Spill away."
Jason went rigid, and it was no surprise the other did too, especially when the son of Poseidon talked like that. Talked like he was at the edge of the world, dangerously tipping over, yet keeping the calmest face they ever saw him have.
It was Piper who spoke first, wary and delicate. "Our memories. They—they came back. It was all so sudden." When Percy didn't say anything, she continued, even quieter than before, "We remember everything."
"Everything!" Percy felt unsteady and faint, like he was about to collapse on the floor any minute then. A crazy smile crawled upon his lips—dead and cold. "So, you finally remember every single thing you did, huh? What's it gonna be this time? Another little sorry?"
"Percy, we're sor—" Hazel began, realising her mistake a second too late as Percy smiled at her mirthlessly. "Look, we know sorry isn't enough, okay? What we did was—was stupid, and childish, and we should have listened to you, but we . . . we miss you."
They don't deserve you, that merciless voice whispered, they don't deserve to be forgiven. You're better than this.
The voice was right. Percy was better than this.
But he couldn't help but recognise Hazel's words of genuine regret match his own. When he was apologizing to the hunters, for the cruel thing he's done that Thalia didn't deserve at all . . .
"You were right. What you said earlier. Sorry isn't enough," Caille had said, and he remembered a cold feeling of misery wash over him, "and I think forgiving you is going to take some time. But I think you're trying. That's what matters. You're an odd one, Jackson."
He was always going to be the odd one. No one in their right mind would forgive their friends if they betrayed them—broke them and their trust. But Percy was different than the rest, wasn't he? Sorry would never be enough, but . . .
Percy glanced up at them. Finally meeting their eyes. Friends. Family. He was shot with the memories from the Argo II, how when they had free time, they'd lounge about and bicker like the eighteen year-olds they were supposed to be. Because that was what they were. Simple teenagers, not people trying to keep alive every day.
Don't forgive them, let them drown in their guilt, they don't—
"Sorry isn't enough," he said, unable to stop the tiny uplift in the corner of his mouth. Percy looked down, his hands curling inwardly, "but I think you're trying. I suppose that's what matters."
He didn't know which one moved first, either it was him or them, but he never felt gladder that he finally let it all out, that he had his friends back.
Because Percy would give anything to be with them, to savor his time with them, before the war could come and crush their hopes.
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
Nico gasped for breath, his eyes shut tight as his body shuddered in wild, short spasms. The glistening sword in his hand wavered once, and it was no less than a second did it clatter to the tiled floors with an eerie chime in his ears.
"No," he cried, begged for no one, as his knees gave out beneath him. The agonizing shock that surged through his body didn't do anything to help, and neither did the bellowing laughter around him. That sickening woman, her sickly croons and sweet whispers of promised misery . . .
Nico had felt it.
He had felt the boy's soul leave his cold and pale body, a child too innocent for this world. The rose red blood was splattered on his hands, his clothes, his fallen blade . . .
With another gasp for breath, Nico opened his eyes, only to find unshed tears and sobbed chokes from his throat at what he's done.
Nothing could change this. Ever.
Not even if his intentions were purely for the Light side.
If Percy ever knew, he'd think that the son of Hades has been truly drowned in cruel, heartless dark.
If Will ever knew, he'd stay away from him as far as he can.
Because Nico was a monster. He was sure of it as he cried out to the body in front of him, someone so young, someone he had killed—
No one could help him now.
i really appreciated this one anon which commented a review on this story, saying they loved it!
i'm glad to know and be reassured that you guys actually like my content; for a while, i've kept wondering to myself if i should delete the whole book 'cause the plot has gotten boring. i'm ridiculously happy that i finally got out of that dark place, and i'm back to updating regularly!
reviews are lovely, buns. follow krystalliumm at tumblr and instagram too!
