A/N: Some comments at the end of the chapter.
Well into the night, in one of the most expensive parts of Los Angeles, a doorman was doing his best to stay awake.
Thin, pale, posture more or less passable, he was in the strange age-limbo some younger adults tend to fall in, where they can't quite pass for a particular age group with consistency, and often in the same day get called 'Mister' and 'kid'. The suit he was wearing, a reasonable mix of itchy and warm, was so far doing him a great disservice – he was the kind of people for whom sleep cycle abuse has seamlessly weaved itself into normalcy.
The night was pleasantly cool, all the more so when one had a fitting set of clothes, and there was little noise in this part of the city as of right then.
The doorman allowed himself a few seconds' worth of shut eyes, blinked, rubbed the awfully enticing burn of tired eyelids away, and sniffed.
A car was approaching, and by the looks of it and how much monetary value it spelled out it was probably one of his residents'.
Slowly blinking and steeling himself as the vehicle indeed pulled up to a smooth halt in front of him, he swallowed (voice cracks were not ideal) hard before greeting the newcomers.
The driver's door opened, and a very dapper man emerged, his sleeked-back hair slightly out of shape into a very attractive messy look. He was quite unsure where, but the doorman felt he had seen that face somewhere before.
Shaking off his vague idea of asking the man who he was, or if they had met before, the doorman politely nodded and took the keys he was offered. As the driver escorted his companion – a giggling woman in a beautiful scarlet dress the doorman was almost positive did indeed live in the building – out of the car and inside to the reception, the young man drove the luxurious car into a private parking lot, and out of this story for good.
Beryl Grace was on a cloud. Her thoughts were a blur of alcohol-induced giddiness and the very special sense of comfort she felt whenever she was going back home in the middle of the night after an extremely fun time spent partying.
Her apartment door proved a challenge, as she couldn't quite get the key in the lock. Her companion gave an amused sigh and gently took them from her.
"I suppose you would have slept in the corridor, had I not been here," he chuckled as he opened the door, making her chortle.
"I can hardly stand, in fact. Do you mind carrying me inside?" Her tone was purposefully dripping innocence, and the man gently cupped her chin between his fingers before effortlessly lifting her thin frame.
"Of course you'd make me work for you," he mused, and she giggled once more, feeling like a teen girl but not able to help herself.
Pushing the door closed behind him with his foot, and turning on the lights, he advanced with Beryl clutching his neck.
"The bedroom is-"
"Fuck the bedroom," he said softly, setting her down on the very large, impeccable piece of furniture set to face the wall window.
The apartment itself was a thing to behold – very spacious, decorated with a minimal but elegant touch, its window a seamless view on the city, and its furniture perfectly clashing with the pristine look of the walls. Perhaps the most striking feature was the grand piano, a perfect match to the massive window, set in a perfect position to give its eventual player a side view of the horizon.
But Beryl Grace and her companion were paying no mind to their surroundings – in fact, they paid little mind to anything except each other for a good half hour, before finally falling asleep against each other.
The man didn't sleep for long. Looking down at his companion, he rubbed his eyes nonchalantly, and carefully got up, wrapping the woman with the dress she had taken off. He found the kitchen, which was as large and well-equipped as the living room, and poured himself a soft drink.
While he sipped, feeling quite at peace, he heard a sound so unexpected he didn't quite believe his ears. Putting down his glass, the man tensed, anticipating, when the sound was heard again, this time clear and continuous.
A baby was crying.
Almost automatically, he walked out of the kitchen, towards the source.
A corridor led out of the spacious living room, surprisingly long and impeccably carpeted, its far end into what looked like a bathroom, the left wall offering one more door than the lone one on the right wall.
Stumbling through the shag and almost knocking a delicate vase full to the brim with dried flower petals, he vaguely thought that his sudden clumsiness seemed like a placebo-type of thing or whatnot, probably because he was most likely imagining babies crying and thus just now snapping to the fact he was perhaps more drunk than he'd initially thought.
He strained his ears, located the source to be just behind the second door on his left, and he pushed it gently open. To his growing wonder, he found himself in a very full, very decorated child's room.
The wallpaper was dimly illuminated, but he could make out it mimicked a blue sky filled with lazy white clouds. He walked in and stepped on something hard and small, making his eyes water, and understood several toys littered the ground, among them the pieces of Lego on which he had just undeniably proven himself sober enough to experience pain. The lighting was coming from a funny bolt shaped lamp, which was so bright it created a green stretched-Z on the black canvas of his eyelids.
In the middle of the room, a baby was crying in its bed.
Walking up to it, the man peeked inside, and saw indeed a small child, no more than a few months old, crying and shaking its tiny fists. Reaching down, almost instinctively, he took hold of the baby, wrapped in covers.
"That's Thalia," said a soft voice behind him, and had he not taken the baby with excessively firm hands, he would have dropped the child in surprise.
Beryl was standing behind him, dressed skimpily enough that nothing but his current state of surprise could have prevented him from taking her to the couch again.
"Thalia…?"
"She's my daughter."
His surprise, if possible, deepened.
"You have a daughter," he said finally, as he automatically stroked the toddler's back.
Her expression was mostly unreadable, but it was beginning to have an effect on him.
He had known Beryl for some time now, and it wasn't just a few dates – they had been on vacation twice, had spent the bulk of their social lives together in the last few months. It wasn't yet something very solid, but he had an image of her, a mental feel, some grasp on who she was.
Yet, the expression on her face made him uneasy. It wasn't anger, but it still gave off something hostile, as if something ugly was rearing its head behind her eyes.
Whether it was thanks to him or not, the baby girl was settling down, her crying almost stopped.
Her baby.
Strangely enough, his mind was suddenly much sharper, as if to make up for the few moments of stunned slowness he just experienced, and he finally found his voice.
"Why was she all alone here?"
It seemed Beryl had anticipated every question but that one. Her cool mask of indifference melted away, and she seemed surprised.
"I- what?"
"All alone," he repeated. "There's no one but us here, is there? She was all alone before we came in."
Hoping he was wrong, that a nanny was sleeping in one of the other rooms, he continued to stare at her, but the rebuttal he wanted to hear never came.
"She can't walk yet, so she can't get out of her crib, and she's too young to be lonely. What's wrong with her being alone?"
He just looked right back at her.
Seeing he wasn't answering, Beryl stepped forward, grabbing the little girl away from him, and setting her back in the crib.
Finally gathering his wits, he walked out of the room and back to the living room. There, he grabbed his shirt, and as he put it back on he felt as if his stomach had filled up with lead.
"Where are you going?"
Beryl had come back, apparently, her tone devoid of any humor. She was staring at him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched, and when he spoke he felt as if it were someone else taking command, someone else saying something he himself didn't even understand yet nor have the guts to.
"I think you know why I'm leaving."
She flushed, and through gritted teeth she whispered, "Of course. Men. Scared of a baby, are you? Think I'm used up because I have a daughter?"
Her words were chilling enough, but her tone was downright sickening. He studied her face – shame, anger, resentment. She meant it.
With a twang of frustration, he bit back, "You're wrong."
Seeing the same frustratingly blank look on her face she had when he had asked her about the baby being alone, he continued. "You hide that baby from people. Fine. I would too. The attention won't do her any good. But we've been seeing each other for a while, and you didn't bother mentioning her. From my perspective, either you just wanted a hand on me, or you thought I'd suck it up and not get mad when you dropped a baby on me after a few more months of dating."
She stared at him as though she had been slapped. He didn't care anymore.
He was no longer intoxicated.
He had nursed the possibility of going long term with Beryl – it had certainly seemed to him as something much more serious than a fling between two famous people.
Now, he was discovering this side of her – and as man brought up by his mother's abuse, he was feeling sick.
"I won't tell anyone, but-"
"You never even liked me, did you?" she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks a delicate shade of red, "Just want an excuse out of here, you-"
She seemed to be boiling with anger, and right as he was about to retort, she grabbed one of the beautiful, ornate vases and flung it at him.
He threw his hands in front of himself, and the glass shattered against him. It was light, but the shards were enough to cut into his exposed forearms and draw blood.
His head was ringing, and he felt a surge of fury. It took every piece of self-control he could muster to stay in place, staring hard at Beryl, who was now gaping at her own action.
"Wait- I- I didn't-"
"Don't touch me." His tone was icy, and just as he felt his composure break, his muscles clenching and his mind urging him to hit her back, he heard the baby crying again.
What was her name, she had said? Thalia. All his anger melted away. All he could feel was a miserable sense of emptiness.
Taking a handkerchief out of his back pocket, he wrapped his most serious cuts and walked resolutely towards the door, grabbing his jacket on the way.
Beryl didn't stop him, but as he was getting out, he thought he heard a sob mingle with the baby's cries.
"Thalia! Come back here!"
The little girl paid her mother no mind as she dragged her kite higher and higher, laughing and earning both amused and worried glances from people around her.
It was a beautiful spring day, and Beryl had, for the first time in quite a while, took her daughter out to a park.
Initially, Thalia hadn't been excited by her mom dragging her to the busy park – she rarely ever enjoyed herself, and even less when her mother was around.
However, when the ice-cream vendor she had pestered her mother to see gave her a small paper-kite with her strawberry cone, her mood had considerably lifted.
Now, her mother chasing behind her, and her precious toy flying high, she screamed her joy to the world.
It was short lived, however, because she soon tripped into a pond, and her overalls and hair were now wet and muddy.
Before she could realize she was hurt, gentle hands grabbed her and helped her up.
She looked up, and saw the face of a man she thought she had seen before. He was tall, taller than any adult she knew, and his hair and beard were a dark grey, as if made of metal. The seven year old girl was stumped, forgetting even the growing pain in her hands, and before she could decide whether to cry or run away in fright, he knelt down.
"You've grown," he said softly, brushing her cheek with his hand. His voice was deep, comforting, huge, and Thalia felt reassured like she never had before.
Instinctively, she lifted up her arms to hug him. The scratches on her hands had disappeared. Though the sun shone brightly above, the air smelled like rain.
"Thalia!"
Beryl had caught up with them. The irritated expression she bore as she chased her daughter was replaced by an almost comical surprise.
"Hello," said the man, getting up, his hand clasping Thalia's.
Her mom seemed at loss for words. Thalia looked up at the stranger, and saw that the flying kite had flown, almost of its own accord, into his outstretched hand.
"Maybe we should take a stroll, it has been a while," continued the man, though even Thalia felt that he was being overly polite, and that both her and her mom would take a stroll with him regardless.
"Yes," her mom whispered at last, "yes, let's do that."
It was easily the most fun day Thalia had ever had. Clutching the paper kite safely in her hands, she merrily ate as they sat at one of the fanciest restaurants she had ever been in.
The man and her mother seemed to know each other, but they didn't talk much. After a comfortable time spent at the restaurant, they headed out.
The sun was setting. The strange man got a cab to drive them to Thalia and her mom's building. Thalia hadn't expected him to come along, but he did – once inside, Beryl immediately scrambled to the kitchen. That ruined Thalia's mood.
Letting go of the man's hand, she walked over to the kitchen, where her mom was still looking through cupboards.
"You don't have anything left to drink," the little girl said sternly, her voice quavering but firm. Her mom stopped dead in her tracks, and turned to look at her.
Before either of them could say anything else, the man walked in, putting a hand on Thalia's head.
"I suggest," he said calmly, "you go to sleep, Thalia. Your mother and I have a few things to discuss."
Once again, his voice felt incredibly comforting, to the point Thalia even forgot the dread induced by the sight of her mother very obviously looking for alcohol. Feeling sleepy already, she felt him lift her up and carry her to her room. Before she closed her eyes, she thought something was washing over her, but the sudden tiredness enveloped her and she drifted off to sleep.
When she woke up, she didn't immediately get out of bed. For a few moments, she was content staring up at the dull ceiling. It had only been three years since they moved in. Before that, though Thalia had only scarce memories of the place, they lived in a much bigger, much prettier place.
The sound of rain against the window startled her. Getting up, she opened the curtains to see a grey sky looming, and heavy rain pouring.
"Thalia? Wake up, breakfast is ready!"
Now that was something else – her mother sounded cheerful. She couldn't recall the last time, if ever, she had heard her sound so happy.
Quickly washing her face, she strode into the kitchen to find the man from the day before, looking exactly as he did in the park, except for much more casual clothes – a neat, white button-up shirt and grey khakis.
He was reading a newspaper, and when Thalia walked in, he gave her a smile. She hadn't noticed before, but his eyes were a startling blue, much like her own.
"Good manners dictate you should say hello, Thalia," he chided gently, though there was an unspoken authority in his voice.
"H-hello," she stammered almost instantly, sitting down at the table where her mother was setting down a plate of pancakes.
Her drowsiness was entirely gone, and before she could stop it, she blurted out the strange thought that had occurred to her the day before.
"Are you my dad?"
Beryl's smile widened even further, and the man simply looked at the girl, appraisingly, and with an almost satisfied expression, he folded his newspaper and leaned towards her.
A few years down the line, when she would remember this scene, she would realize his expression was closer to pride, but as a child had never been regarded thus way and simply took it for something else.
"I am," he said simply.
The weeks that followed were nothing like what Thalia was used to. Her mother was happy, cheerful. She no longer took out her temper on her daughter, and the violent fits she was usually prone were all but a forgotten nightmare.
Thalia couldn't bring herself to like her mom – she had always been a constant threat, a figure of half-hearted authority, and one of the first things she ever understood was that she was not welcome in Beryl Grace's life. But she felt her constant state of guard drop, and her childishness was taking over. She was forgetting what it was to be unwanted, scared, and anxious.
The man, Thalia's father, was the source of her confidence. Had she been alone with Beryl, even cheerful as she was right now, she would have kept a sense of dread, forged by the painful memories of her mother's unpredictability.
But with her dad present, she felt like no harm in the world could come to her. He was, she came to learn, stern and prone to correct her behavior, but there was also a sense of affection from his authority. It hadn't been put into words, but she understood on her own that his orders held no malice, no desire to spite her.
She also came to understand two more things about her dad: the first was that he seemed more comfortable talking in a foreign language than in English, though Thalia could still vaguely grasp what he was saying. The second thing was that he had some control, or tie, to the rain. Many times, she saw her mother commenting on the weather for no apparent reason, or looking expectantly at him while saying thunder made her feel safer. A storm never failed to follow, sometimes even seconds later, and Beryl Grace's mood improved tenfold, while Thalia gazed at the sky, full of wonder, trying to understand how that could be.
As the weeks stretched into months, Thalia eventually noticed her mother was gaining a strange amount of weight – her belly was disproportionately large. With a start, she understood her mom was pregnant.
The idea of having a sibling was alien to her – in fact, she did not even give it much thought as the baby's birth drew nearer, because she couldn't quite process that approaching reality.
When her mother's water broke, one of the most defining moments of Thalia's childhood took place.
Thalia had been quietly eating, when her mother's yelp startled her. Rushing to see what the matter was, she had suddenly felt as though she were falling forward, and when her eyes opened, she was no longer home.
Wind was blowing in her ears, and the moon was shining brightly above, the stars more visible than Thalia had ever imagined they could be.
Her head raised in stupor, she shifted as she took in the sky above, and she felt her feet slide and bury themselves on a strange terrain. Looking down, she saw it was sand.
She was standing on a beach.
"Your mother will join us before long," said a voice, and she turned to see her father, looking down at her, dressed very strangely indeed. Instead of his usual neat attires, a purple toga was wrapped elegantly around his form, stopping just above his sandals.
Before she could say anything, she felt something – some kind of cover – being draped on her shoulders. Her father then grabbed her hand and she followed.
Thalia had been to the beach once before, but this was one was much larger than what she had experienced. Strangely enough, it was also completely deserted; not a single trace of human life was to be seen, no building or structure whatsoever tainted the scenery.
Thalia understood that had something to do with her father. He had brought them here, and apparently had not wanted anyone else present. That was fine by her.
Walking alone at night on a beach would have been a scary experience, especially for a seven year old. Instead, as she walked on, Thalia felt every ounce of fear and anxiety she had ever carried fade away, as if those very feelings had been permanently removed from her emotional capacity.
The emptiness, the silence, the vastness of the place made for a picture she could never replicate, neither in dreams nor in reality.
As they walked, slowly, she took in the scenery. The beach was perfectly clean, and entirely devoid of any rocks or pebbles. A forest ran along the length of the sand and encircled it in an arc of vegetation, and at the far ends of the beach stood massive columns of stone, carved by the tide.
The cloak on her shoulders kept her warm enough. Her bare feet against the sand had been slightly cold at first, but on a whim she had decided not to complain about it. Now, it no longer bothered her, and she had the strangest feeling that her father approved of her small display of courage.
The wind was blowing, though only lightly, and the waves' rhythmic crashes were the only noises that broke the silence as Thalia walked alongside her father, her small hand clutched in his reassuring grip.
A comforting loneliness.
Of course, her father was with her, but Thalia's mind didn't register his presence as a person, but more as if he were part of the surroundings.
She lost the track of time, and she did not think much, if at all.
Perhaps it was because she had, for quite some time, longed for a feeling of safety. Perhaps it was because, all alone in such a large place, she had escaped from anything she had ever known, her father a peerless guardian next to her, ensuring nothing would ever happen in that place.
Her young mind could not assimilate it, but she was discovering something else as well. Faced with the vastness of the scenery, Thalia felt incredibly small. She was discovering what it was to be faced with something eternal, something everlasting. Somehow, in the midst of her tranquil wonder, she assimilated her father as part of the nature that dwarfed her so.
Eventually, they reached their destination, at the far end of the beach.
Sitting at the edge of the trees, a young woman was holding a squirming mass of clothes. As they got nearer, soft cries could be heard – the baby was crying into the night.
The young woman, whom Thalia couldn't help but stare at with awe, for she had never seen someone so pretty, bowed her head in reverence and sank to one knee.
"Lord Jupiter."
It took a second for Thalia to understand this was addressed to her father.
Letting go of his daughter's hand, the latter took the child from the bowing woman.
"Jason Grace."
Thalia's father – Jupiter, she realized, thinking over the strange name – had spoken barely above a whisper, but his voice cut through the sound of waves and winds.
"Your lady is resting, my Lord. I left her under my sisters' care. She will make a full recovery," continued the woman, still resolutely holding her pose.
"I am pleased to see how dependable you are. You may go," replied Jupiter, ever so softly, still gazing at the baby in his arms.
The woman nodded once and got up. Her eyes crossed Thalia's stare, and she gave the little girl a warm smile, before turning on her heels and walking into the trees.
"You will rise above your peers and bring me much pride, Jason," continued Jupiter, and he placed a finger on his son's forehead. Almost immediately, the cries ceased and the newborn seemed to fall asleep. Dropping his voice even lower, Jupiter whispered a few words that Thalia couldn't make out over the sound of the crashing waves. When he stopped, he turned his eyes to her and Thalia felt her back stiffen, as if she were a soldier, and her gaze dropped. He had once before informed her it was inappropriate to meet her elders' gaze unless asked to, and though the command had been very calm and devoid of severity, she hadn't forgot it.
"Thalia," he said, and she felt the permission to look him in the eye. She did so, and was met with almost the same pair of startling blue that stared back at her in the mirror – perhaps his were deeper, as though she were staring into the night sky.
"Your brother is part of your family. No matter what happens, what even I could one day tell you, he will always be your brother."
His tone and phrasing made it clear how important this was, and she nodded with a fierce determination. The faintest hint of a smile crossed her father's otherwise serious face, and he shifted Jason so as to cradle him with one arm before reaching and grabbing Thalia's hand.
"Come, let us see your mother."
Jason's birth marked a definite change in the Grace family. Though she was still being showered with gifts and a luxury fit for her past years as a movie star, Beryl seemed to grow restless. Bedbound, she spent most of her days eating and watching television distractedly, her son always in her lap.
When she could finally walk, however, she was no longer quite so keen on taking care of her newborn. Evidently, Thalia took it upon herself to make up for her mother's neglect, and though her promise to Jupiter was still fresh in her mind, her attitude had almost nothing to do with it. Jason had simply found his way into her heart, and this newfound affection for her baby-brother filled her with a sense of purpose and responsibility.
At some point, soon after her mother's recovery, the little girl sensed a distinct shift in her parents' dynamic. Her mom started making more and more extravagant requests, to the point they stopped making sense at all. Though she was only seven, Thalia knew perfectly well how ridiculous it was to ask for eternal life and beauty. Her father's behavior changed accordingly: he would spend less and less time at home with them, and when he did come, Thalia could see a strange look in his eyes whenever Beryl started gushing again about becoming a queen.
Then, as suddenly as he had come, he disappeared. One evening, her mother waited several hours into the night, as she always did when he left for the day. He never came back.
It was like sinking into an old nightmare. The cheerful and happy face turned into a haggard, hostile one. Thalia later understood that Beryl had not bothered going to work and simply quit. Now, they had no money.
Thalia knew hunger – sometimes, a paycheck was late, and they would have to scrape what they could. But the days that followed taught her a new low. She would wake up in the middle of the night, her stomach growling and her dreams vivid with images of food and restaurants and her dad coming home to feed her. Her mom wasn't faring any better, and it was with resentful eyes that she shared what little food they had left with her daughter. Jason, for his part, was the least affected, as they had stocked up on baby formula before misery took a hold of them.
During that period, Thalia had slept as often as possible, whenever she felt that Jason was doing well enough that he didn't need her presence. It allowed her to ignore her searing stomach and the constant weakness in her limbs. But she could never sleep for long. At night, she would open her bedroom's window, and simply look at the sky, her thoughts trailing from her dad to what she would like to eat first if given the chance. Sometimes, she would openly cry, though keeping as quiet as possible. Other times, she would say, to no one in particular, 'Thunder makes me feel safe, too,' and strain her ears for a thunderclap that never came.
Eventually, times eased. One day, her mom got back home with arms full of groceries. It wasn't much at all, but Thalia had enjoyed every single bit of the overcooked, first full-sized meal she had eaten in a long time.
"Keep walking, and don't look at him," Beryl Grace urged her silently, squeezing her hand harder than necessary, and dragging her away.
Thalia didn't need that advice – the man who had beckoned her from the opposite street, as her mom came to pick her up, sent chills down her spine. She did not dare chance a look back to see if he was following them, but her mom did.
"Shoot! Through here, come here," she whispered urgently, her tone stricken with panic and fear.
They went through a narrow alley, emerging on another street, and turned. Again and again, they crossed streets, almost getting knocked over, went through alleys and shortcuts, until Thalia's legs started to hurt and she whined loudly.
"I'm tired, I want to go home!"
Her mother stopped for a split second and back-handed her across the face.
"Shh! They'll hear you! It's you they're looking for, you idiot!"
Her cheek ringing and glistening with tears of anger, she could only follow her mother all day, as they ran away from some invisible threat.
It had started only a few weeks after Jason's first birthday. Strange people seemed to take interest in Thalia, and follow her when she was running errands for her mother.
Her mom had blanched the first time Thalia told her about this, having just narrowly escaped a pair of trench-coated men. She had immediately gotten up to look through their window – and almost fainted when she saw several individuals, lined up outside, staring at them but somehow not approaching, as if the building was forbidden to them.
They had stayed shut in at home for several days, until the men disappeared. Thalia quickly understood this was going to become a recurring event, something she would have to deal with everyday – for some reason, some people wanted to harm her, and her mother knew about them.
As the sun set and as they walked home, her mother casting paranoid glances over her shoulder, Thalia breathed a sigh of relief, and she was the first to rush to Jason when they locked the apartment door behind them.
It was obvious he had been crying and stopped when he heard them come in. Thalia cooed softly into his face and the toddler grabbed her ears as she took him in her arms.
Royally ignoring them both, their mom shut herself in the bathroom and refused to come out for almost two hours. By then, Thalia had already cooked, taken care of Jason and she was already singing him asleep when her mother called her.
"Thalia, come here." A harsh whisper.
She got up slowly, still holding Jason in her arms, and met her mother at the kitchen table.
She wore a wild expression, as if she was slowly losing it, and it intensified at the sight of her daughter.
"What? He's about to sleep, can it wait?" She whispered as aggressively as possible, glaring at her mother.
Beryl Grace nervously licked her lips, and leaned forward.
"Sit down. There's something you need to know."
It had been over three years since her dad had found her in a pool of mud. Three years since she had felt his reassuring presence.
She wasn't much older – still a child, really – but she had lost a considerable amount of her innocence. She was constantly tense, by necessity – between her baby brother, monsters and looming silhouettes constantly plaguing both her nightmares and the corner of her eye whenever she was outside, and her mother, Thalia's eyes had grown sober.
At odds with her usual self, their mom had decided to take them on a family vacation, far away from the city and into Californian forests. Thalia would have enjoyed the view, if her mother hadn't been here. The path into the forest was wide, the trees shone beautifully in the sun, rustled by a gentle breeze, and she could truly appreciate how dull and dirty her city seemed in comparison.
Jason, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was leaning out the car-window, threatening to fall face-first, and Thalia resolved to keep a hand on the back of his shirt while he enjoyed the wind and the sun.
The car slowed to a halt, next to a ruined house. Upon getting out, Thalia felt a strange surge of anxiousness at the sight. A small wooden fence circled a green patch of grass, and beyond that, rows of mossy stone walls stood, with no ceiling above, a tower-like structure sticking out from the middle of the ruins. It felt eerie, though the picture was admittedly very pretty, and Thalia winced when she realized her mother had brought them for picnic here.
Jason was second to get out of the car, and he whizzed past Thalia into the ruins, laughing like mad.
"Jason, wait-"
She made to follow him, but her mother pulled her back and thrust the car keys in her hands.
"I'll go get him, you bring the picnic basket." Thalia gritted her teeth, but did not argue, and instead went to fetch the food as her mother walked into the ruins after Jason.
It felt forced, fake, artificial. Her mother never had time for them, much less to take them out. When she did, it was always because some neighbor made one too many comments, and came across as a bit insistent about the Grace children's whereabouts.
It's always about her, thought Thalia viciously, glaring at the heavy basket that didn't budge when she pulled with one hand. Her mother usually locked them both in the apartment, while she was either working as a waitress or partying in some run-down bar. When she would come home, crashing on the couch and often throwing up what cheap drinks she could afford, the noise would wake Jason up, and the mess would only get bigger. Beryl would scream, sometimes threaten to hit both her children, Jason would cry even harder, having learned that his mother's screams were always scary and sometimes painful, and Thalia would do her best to clean up and bring back the peace.
Finally forcing the basket out of the car, and closing the trunk with a low grunt, Thalia stumbled towards the picnic spot they had chosen.
She had only walked for a minute, past the small clearing and into the house, when she spotted her mother, sitting on the stony steps, her face in her hands.
Beryl was panting and had obviously been crying.
As if electrified, she rushed to meet her mother, dropping the basket and all its content on the floor.
"Where is Jason? What happened?" Her tone would have earned her a reproachful look, or even a slap, depending on the situation, but her mother seemed to crumple under her gaze, which only heightened Thalia's growing sense of dread.
"I- She was waiting for this, she said- said he belonged to her-"
Beryl's stutter was driving her crazy. Reaching out and grasping her mom by the elbows, in a bizarre role-reversal, she shook the older woman and let out a cry of frustration. "What did you do to Jason?"
"It wasn't me," her mother's voice was pleading, her tears threatening to fall again, and, getting up, for the first time ever she pulled Thalia into a hug. "Hera- your father's wife- sh-she took him- sacrifice- I had no choice, I couldn't do anything-"
As numb disbelief washed over her, Thalia processed what she just heard. Sacrifice.
"He's gone?" She could barely hear her own voice. For a few seconds, they stood in an awkward embrace, for Thalia's arms hung limply by her side.
Something – perhaps the loud note of self-justification in Beryl's voice – shattered her disbelief and let place for a rage she had never felt before. Of course, it was never Beryl's fault.
"Get away from me!" Cried the little girl, and before she could wrestle herself away, she heard the faintest crack and her mother was sent flying back, landing on her backside with a yelp of pain, staring up in surprise.
She turned towards the house and lunged forward, intent on looking for her brother. There was no way he was gone, he had to be somewhere between the stone walls, hiding like a little kid, trying to chew on some bug-
Someone had stopped her. With a start, she turned and saw her mother, back on her feet, holding her arm and dragging her away.
"What are you doing, let go-"
"H-he's gone, Thalia, you can't do anything for him," Beryl's voice was hoarse, terrified, and her daughter fought with a renewed vigor.
"Let me GO! I'm going to get him, let-"
The slap ringed through the clearing, cutting through the soft winds and chirping birds. Thalia was momentarily stunned – her mother had slapped her very, very hard, and she could feel her split lip bleeding and her vision blur.
Seeing her daughter was no longer fighting back, Beryl was quick to get Thalia back into the car. Throwing her in the front seat and securing the seatbelt, she put the keys she had snatched from Thalia in the struggle and put the car in reverse, as if eager to leave a murder scene.
Her dizziness was fading, and Thalia tried to rip the seatbelt away from her.
"Why are you leaving, Jason's still there, we can't leave him here-"
"Thalia," Beryl said, her voice shaking, "there's nothing you and I can do, he's gone, good as dead-"
"HE ISN'T DEAD, STOP SAYING THAT!" Shrieked Thalia, breaking free from the seatbelt and making for the car door.
For the second time, she was slapped, even harder. Her head was spinning, and she was barely aware of her head falling limply aside, resting on the car window.
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, the only sound being the battered car's engine wheezing and Beryl Grace's laborious breathing.
Then, all traces of fight leaving her, Thalia slowly curled up on her seat. Her head hurt, her lip was bleeding, and she discovered something hard in her mouth – a tooth.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she snuggled against her own knees and started to silently cry.
At the Wolf House, the overturned basket was exactly where it had been left.
The police came quicker than Thalia had anticipated.
They were back home, and the first thing she had done upon arriving was sneak her mother's phone and call for help. She had told them what happened, how her mother had abandoned Jason, and simply went to sleep, avoiding as much interaction as she could with her mom.
When the policemen knocked on the Grace family's door, they took both Thalia and her mother for questioning. The little girl repeated her account of the events, omitting the part about Hera and her father. She later understood that her mother claimed she had looked for Jason and was just about to call the police when they arrived.
Regardless, the authorities did not detain them for long. Investigations were fruitless, and Thalia's last hope vanished into thin air.
All alone in their apartment, Thalia dreaded Beryl's reaction. The first few days after their release, her mother acted as though nothing happened.
Then, on the fourth day, she was woken up by her room's door being violently flung open.
The only reason Thalia managed to escape the bottle swung down to her head at full speed was because she had been lying awake, and her reflexes made her jump out the bed in surprise.
Looking up at the disheveled, haggard face of her mother, she felt the hairs on her neck stand up and she bolted for the door, grabbing her jacket on the way out.
Crying freely, her vision blurred by tears, she ran through the building's narrow stairs, her drunken mother thundering behind her and screaming incoherently. Some people were getting out of their own apartments, roused by all the commotion. She had chanced a look back and saw that her mother was running after her. A howl of fear escaped her and she screamed, "Get away from me! Don't touch me!"
She could vaguely register some adults trying to catch her, and one or two moving in to stop Beryl from catching her. A spark of vindictiveness flared within the turmoil of emotions racing through her, but it was soon gone. Only one thing mattered, and it was putting as much distance as she could between her mother and her.
Thalia had no way of keeping track of time, but it was apparent she had run for quite a while. Once she had exited the building, she had headed blindly towards the city. Twisting, turning in the maze of streets, she hadn't stopped until she was completely spent, her legs aching and her chest on fire.
She shivered, and realized she was barefooted. The adrenaline had temporarily shielded her from the pain of running and the cold of the night. Now, she was losing her warmth.
She looked around her. The street was fairly empty, save for a few passersby. She was starting to feel hungry. Digging through her pockets, she found some money – just enough to last her a day, maybe more.
As the harsh reality of what she had just done started to sink in, Thalia saw it out of the corner of her eye.
At first, her fear and pain were replaced by terror – the thing was, after all, four-legged and hairy. It did not move, however, nor did it disappear when she turned to face it.
Her heart banging against her chest, Thalia realized that, across the streets, a goat was staring at her.
"Not much further!"
Thalia gritted her teeth and focused on keeping her running-pace, Annabeth on her back.
They had managed to steal a car and drive to Long Island where, according to Grover, a safe-place for demigods awaited. Unfortunately, there hadn't been enough gas to cover the whole trip – they had been in a hurry to leave after escaping the Cyclops' den, and hadn't checked – and they were now barely a mile away from their destination, running like hell. Incidentally, hell was indeed after them.
The night made it impossible to see very far, but they could hear their pursuers steadily getting louder. The growing sound of snarls, hooves, and god knew what else was out for their blood made Thalia's skin crawl, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to instinctively turn around and protect her exposed back.
Annabeth gave a sob into her ear, and she felt her resolve tighten. She couldn't fail now, not so close. They had to get there.
Grover was now leading them to a steep hill. If the Camp was just below, there was no sign of any human activity nearby. For a second she even wondered if it was some kind of trap.
Her chest was on fire, her legs in agony, and her breathing had gotten so painful she could swear there was a taste of blood in her mouth.
"Here," panted the satyr, halfway up on the hill, just as something whizzed past him and lodged itself right in front of them.
Losing his balance, Grover tumbled back and Luke caught him before he could send them all down the hill.
The loss of the group's momentum was just enough for the monsters to catch up, and catch up they did.
Whirling around, eager to keep Annabeth out of harm's way, Thalia's stomach lurched and she fell on her backside as she saw a monstrous hound leaping at her.
Had it not been for Luke, she would have been road kill. Quick as lightning, he had slashed his sword in a deadly arc and sent the beast back it came from.
Shuddering, Thalia made to take the hand he was offering her when she froze. Above them, a large bat-like figure was swooping down, aiming for her oblivious companion.
Reacting faster than she would have anticipated, she dropped Annabeth and pulled the son of Hermes over her shoulder, sending him flying back.
Tapping her shield open, Thalia raised it above her head, the flying monster furiously aborting its assault and snarling at the aegis.
It was all Thalia needed. She took out her Mace can, turning it into a spear, and pointed it at the flying monstrosity. Almost instantly, a bolt of lightning arched out, turning the creature to dust and illuminating the place.
Their victory was short-lived, however – monsters were climbing up the hill, and for a long second, the daughter of Zeus felt her emotions shift drastically.
She had lived as a burden to her mother, she had been dragged from luxurious apartment to run-down buildings – she had been buried with toys at first and with chores and hostility when her mother's career started going downhill. She had known what safety felt like when her father came – and what betrayal and misery were like when he left her with a baby brother to take care of and an abusive mother to coexist with. She had been chased out of her own roof by that woman, who meant to murder her as she probably had Jason. She had spent a year on her own, guided by absurd instinct and a goddamn goat, fighting off monsters and trading the last vestiges of her innocence for sharp instincts that kept her alive. Despite all that, she had come across a new family of her own, and now that too was threatened.
Her fear turned into outrage, and without even consciously taking the decision, she advanced.
Meeting the first of the charging beasts, she slashed and sent bolt after bolt, her shield's aura slowing her attackers just enough that they couldn't react to her assault.
She could vaguely hear Luke screaming something behind her, Annabeth crying, and Grover shouting something. Barely aware of herself, she heard her voice scream, "GO! I'LL CATCH UP, JUST GO!"
She counted on Luke wanting to protect Annabeth to push him to flee and leave her. She couldn't hear what her friends were doing, if they were running or thinking of helping her – the lack of help meant they had, one way or the other, ran for it. Maybe they were going to get reinforcements from Camp. Maybe they would be back for her.
As she fought, adrenaline the only thing keeping her on her feet, the air and ground crackling with electricity and her spear raining golden dust all around her, Thalia felt tired – she did not want to fight anymore. She wanted to leave. She wanted safety, above everything else. Her resolve was faltering, as was her last stand.
Her spear's tip broke off. She saw a massive object hurling towards her, and blocked with her shield. The impact sent her flying up the hill, her momentum almost carrying her to the summit.
For a second, she wanted to lie there – but the faces of her friends, waiting for her on the other side, surged in her mind and she jumped to her feet, her shield arm horribly throbbing.
Blacking out her terror, she focused on what she realized was something more important than her own well-being. Her friends.
Luke, with whom she had spent over a year running around the country, with whom she had stood shoulder to shoulder and survived to later laugh and joke at the death they had narrowly escaped, Luke who had been her only source of comfort, and even deeper still, the only person she always craved to see, to hold hands with, to live with.
And then along had come Annabeth – the tiny, terrified little girl, a mirror of Thalia when she had run out of her apartment in fear of her drunken mother. The little girl who looked up to them both, in admiration and trust. Feeling something in her stomach churn, Thalia raised her arms to the sky. Thunder rumbled, answering the burning ferocity, the savage determination born from the love and hope she carried.
Thunder struck her body, and she felt arcs of electricity rippling across the hill, scattering her enemies and hitting monsters and trees with no distinction.
She could not have known how long the power surge lasted – all she could see, and ever remember, was that she had roared in unison with the thunderclap, and lost herself to the overpowering sense of omnipotence that filled her.
When the light died down, it was still too dark to see. Utter silence now reigned, only broken by small, occasional electrical arcs across the hill.
Her legs gave out, and she fell, almost tumbling down the hill but managing enough of a grip on the grounds to keep herself still.
As she crawled up, pain started to flare from her previously numb body. Every single muscle she had, among them some she had never even felt before, was on fire. Her bones felt like glass inside her body, grinding against her skin, feeling terribly brittle, as if they were crumpling into dust.
She was barely aware of her own laborious breathing, barely registered the moans that escaped her. All she could feel, all that mattered, was to reach Luke and Annabeth.
It only took a couple minutes, but the pain Thalia experienced was beyond anything she had ever felt, as she sobbed and crawled to the promised safety.
Reaching the top, Thalia stopped, her strength entirely spent. As her heartbeat accelerated, she knew for a fact she had reached her absolute limit. There was no going back.
In a supreme effort, she pushed herself on her back, looking up at the sky.
Thoughts assaulted her mind in a blur of memories. She thought of Jason. She thought of her mother, and wondered what had become of her. She thought of her new family, of the most cherished moments she had shared with Luke and Annabeth.
At last, she thought of her father. The all-powerful god, the unequaled king. Where he could be, what he could be doing, if he knew or even cared that she was dying.
She wanted to feel bitter, angry, resentful, but the emotions did not come forth as she thought of the man who had left her defenseless in the face of all the cruelty in the world.
Instead, she felt a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. She felt herself almost reach out, calling for him like a scared child, not caring that he had abandoned her, longing for his return that would signify the end of all her problems.
She tried to speak, but no words followed. Perhaps her throat was damaged beyond repair.
She wasn't even aware of passing away – as her heartbeat stopped, Thalia's last thoughts lingered on the sound of waves, and a little girl holding her father's hand in a very quiet and empty place.
For the time being, this is a one-shot. Originally, it was a little something I wrote, just a little why not that popped up when I found an old Percy Jackson book lying around. Eventually I revisited the little docx and wrote a sequel, and another, and went back and changed a few things, and so on. You probably noticed Jason's birth, if anything, suggests an eventual sequel.
The reason no other chapter will be published for now, is that I'm afraid I don't have enough time to right the plot that developped, nor to plan it out properly. What I can do is share this oneshot, which pardon me I have grown quite fond of. I think it's a nice little insight, however clumsy, into a character from a serie a lot of us found joy in. I no longer read much fiction, but it was a nice little nostalgia trip.
I hope you find some comfort in this oneshot, maybe a passage you'll like enough to read from time to time - I wouldn't claim I have the skill to be this compelling, but I know from experience the simplest things can bring a smile, however small.
I have, for the most part, reviewed and corrected the chapter enough times to feel confident in publishing it. Please forgive any error I might have overlooked, and kindly point them out.