A.N.: One more filler-ish chapter before we start picking things up again. What can I say? I like slow pacing and small symbolic moments.
19
Mason
"So, what now?"
Mason glanced to Chiron, who was standing beside him on the ridge that overlooked the sword fighting arena, which was occupied by at least a dozen campers practicing their various combat maneuvers. They had been observing the practice for some time, Mason asking a few questions about camp and the world of Greek and Roman gods in general, which the camp director was more than happy to oblige in and answer.
"What do you mean?" Mason asked.
Chiron looked down to the dueling demigods. "I know that you plan on returning home shortly, and that you will be taking the Torch with you, as you should. Now that you've played your part in helping Reyna in her quest, I'm curious. What do you plan to do now?"
Mason sighed into the fresh mid-morning air. "I… have no idea," he admitted. "I mean, I think I'll get by just fine. I have for a while, back home."
"But now that I have this…" He trailed off as he gestured to his back, where the Torch was being held in a sort of leather sheath, which one of the Hephaestus kids had been kind enough to make for him. It was quite nifty, the leather straps wrapped around his chest, and Mason appreciated being able to keep the Torch close without having to hold it or stuff it in a bag.
"Are you worried about losing it?" Chiron asked.
"Yeah, you could say that. Or just that I'm not sure I can go about the day without stressing over it."
Chiron nodded. "That is understandable. However, I do not believe Hestia would have chosen you to wield it if she did not trust you to be its keeper, and a worry to that extent would be a clear sign that you take the responsibility seriously. Tell me, she said that learning to wield the Torch would be an ongoing process correct?"
"Something like that, yeah."
"Perhaps you can spend time continuing to learn, then. To practice and discover. The Olympic Torch, though I am not entirely aware of its full capabilities, is certainly a powerful relic, and one with many different applications."
Mason nodded. He had certainly felt that there was much more to it that he did not understand yet.
A surge of voices arose from the arena as the young demigods took to their practice with enthusiasm. "Even if you cannot wield a blade or hold your own in combat, there are always ways to refine your skills and learn new ones," Chiron said as he looked towards the arena. "Perhaps Hestia has gifted you with one such opportunity." The centaur looked to Mason with a wise yet twinkling eye. "I would not let that opportunity slip by if I were you."
(|- - - - -[H]- - - - -|)
By the time the next morning came, Mason was ready to say his goodbyes. It wasn't a heart wrenching one; after all, he hadn't known anyone at camp longer than a few days. Still, as he stood once more at the top of Half-Blood Hill, it felt like he was saying goodbye to more than just some friendly acquaintances. The Torch brought some relief – with it, he was still a part of this new world he had stumbled across, if only a small one.
Standing beside him were Chiron, the camp Oracle Rachel, and Percy, who had taken a rare leave from Annabeth's bedside where he had been glued for most of the past couple days.
"How's she doing?" Mason asked.
Percy nodded with a slight smile. "Better, a lot better. Now that the curse is gone it's mainly just getting back strength and easing into eating and talking again. She even called me Seaweed Brain this morning, which I haven't heard in a long time." As he spoke, his smile morphed into one of goofy endearment. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks again before you took off. If you're ever in Manhattan again and you need a place to crash or a ride, me or my mom will have your back."
"Thanks," Mason said. "That means a lot, really." The two of them shook hands warmly. "Now go get back to her before she realizes you're gone," Mason said with a smirk.
Percy turned and gave a wave as he strode back down the hill. "She definitely already did, but yeah!" he yelled back before disappearing into the camp.
Mason turned to Chiron. "Thank you again, for everything. It's been… overwhelming, to say the least, but it's been nice to have someone with experience to talk to."
Chiron gave a warm smile as they shook hands. "Of course. Camp Half-Blood is always open to you."
Mason took a deep breath as he looked down the hill towards the main road. "Well, I'd better get going, then-"
"Hold on," Rachel said, as she reached out to grab Mason's arm.
He turned to her, taken aback. "Wha-"
Before he could say anything else, she had whipped out a blue sharpie and started writing on his hand, a series of numbers scrawled hastily on his skin. He looked at her in surprise as she finished, giving him an intent look. "Save that when you can," she said decisively.
Mason's eyes glanced down at the phone number on his palm and then up again. "Do you… is this-"
"No," she declared immediately. "It does not mean what you think it means. Do you really think I'm going to let the only other god-chosen mortal walk away from me with no way for us to reach out to each other?" She gave a chuckle. "Besides, I can see you have your hands full in that regard."
Mason stood still as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.
Rachel just glanced to Chiron and rolled her eyes. "Boys, right? Yeesh."
Mason managed to get out one final goodbye as he made his way down the hill before Rachel or Chiron could give him another amused look.
(|- - - - -[H]- - - - -|)
As Mason sat in the back of the taxi making its way down Long Island, he thought about Camp Half-Blood and the people he had met there, wondering what it would feel like to be back home and alone now.
As Mason boarded the commercial flight bound for Grand Rapids, he thought about the Torch, and started to have doubts about him keeping it and taking it with him, and how pointless it all felt now that there was no quest or curse to use it for.
Finally, as Mason stepped out of the Uber in front of his house, he thought about…
Well, actually, he didn't really think about anything.
Instead, he walked into his large, lakeside home in a muddled daze, unloading his bags in much the same way as he had a few days prior upon returning with Reyna. The dim early evening light bathed the inside of the house with a melancholic orange glow, and Mason's movements on the tile floors and kitchen countertops echoed throughout the space, the lack of furniture amplifying the noise of emptiness.
Mason found the silence to be deafening, so he put on some music as he made himself a sandwich.
(music: Where Will We Go (Acoustic) – Grant)
As he stood at the countertop with his food, the empty and quiet space seemed to reflect and amplify the words that had been lodged in his mind ever since Reyna left Camp Half-Blood.
What now?
Those words continued to bounce around in his mind for the next couple of days as he went about his normal life again, or at least tired to. Having been recently let go of his part-time job at a nearby recreational center, he had taken to independent odd jobs like yard work and babysitting to fill the time before he could find another steady job. Of course, it wasn't entirely necessary given the wealth that continued to trickle in from the fund his parents had set up for him, but there was something in him that refused to sit back and be taken care of. Besides, considering how little he still understood about who his parents actually were, there was always the possibility that all of it could turn belly-up in a moment, and he wasn't about to be unprepared for that.
A couple of days after he arrived home, he was fortunate enough to find a brief babysitting job that was only a couple of minutes away, in his very same neighborhood. The parents had to spend a day away to take care of some family business, and needed to leave their eight-year-old son Ezekiel with Mason, which he was more than happy to help with. The day passed much like any other babysitting day he had experienced, with a mix of playing games, putting on movies, making lunch, and keeping the boy away from the kitchen knife drawer that he for some reason wanted into so badly.
When the parents arrived home later that evening, with dinner that they had picked up from Chick-Fil-A, Mason was surprised to see that they had been gracious enough to bring him some as well, insisting that he eat with them before he left. He agreed, but only after he convinced them to take out the cost of his meal from his pay.
The four of them sat around the large table with their chicken sandwiches and fries, talking about assorted things. The parents were warm and amiable, taking a genuine interest in what Mason had to say about his odd living situation, assorted jobs, and interests. Of course, Mason did his best to not accidentally bring up Reyna or Camp Half-Blood or any of the past eight months, even though it was the most interesting thing that had happened to him by a long shot.
Once they were all done eating, Mason found himself in the living room of their house, looking at some of the pictures adorning the walls and the fireplace mantle as Ezekiel took to putting away his plethora of Hot Wheels cars and tracks. There were a handful of family photos, and Mason noticed that most of them included two people he had not seen before – a fit young woman with short hair, and a teenage boy with longer hair that draped down his face, both sharing the dark skin, black hair, and warm expressions of the rest of the family in the photos.
"You almost done cleaning, Ezekiel?" he heard a voice say behind him as Naomi, the boy's mother, stepped into the living room. "I don't want you going to bed too late tonight."
The boy grumbled but continued putting his toys away as Naomi stepped over to where Mason was, smiling at the pictures on the mantle.
"I take it these are your other kids?" Mason asked, gesturing to the photos.
She nodded. "Lydia and Mark. She's their oldest sibling, and Mark's the second."
"You look like a great family," Mason said, looking at one particular photo that looked like it was taken at Disney World, the kids slightly younger and very much enjoying themselves, though even Mason could tell that Mark seemed a bit miffed at having to stand still for a picture.
"How old are they now? Have they moved out?" he asked.
Naomi nodded, gesturing towards another picture frame, this one including only the two parents and Lydia, the latter of which was dressed up in what looked like a military uniform. "Lydia's in the Navy now, and has been for a couple of years. She was so eager about it all."
Mason glanced around the pictures, not seeming a matching one for their other kid. "What about Mark?"
The mother smiled again, but more muted and with a hint of sadness. "We're not entirely sure," she said quietly. "Last we heard he was working a liquor store in Queens, but we haven't heard from him in quite a while. He's… well, he's convinced he's better off on his own."
Mason looked at one of the photos with an older-looking Mark, the young man's face shadowed by his hair, and forced thin-lipped smile.
"So you haven't seen either of them in a while?"
Naomi nodded.
Mason looked to the woman and mother beside him, and found a bit of himself in her warm but saddened eyes. "Is… if you don't mind my asking… Is it hard? Them being away from you?"
She looked at him with a curious but sympathetic expression before turning to the mantle as she spoke. "Yes," she said quietly. "I still remember when they were so small, just playing in the sand on the beach or doing their homework at the table. Abraham and I talked for so long about how we were going to be strong when the day came, but… well, we definitely still cried at every graduation or goodbye," she said with a smile. "But seeing the look on her face as she left for the Navy, or the look on his face when he finally finished high school after being held back… it was worth it."
"Do they visit at all?"
Naomi shook her head. "Lydia, once or twice. Mark, never."
Mason tried to imagine what it would feel like to be a parent whose children never looked back upon leaving. "I'm sorry."
She looked to him with a gentle expression. "Don't be. We've found peace in it. They're adults now. We can't make their decisions for them. All we can do is give them as much support as they will let us, and have a meal and a bed ready for them if and when they ever arrive at our front door." Naomi chuckled. "Or the back door, I suppose. Mark used to always have a habit of sneaking in."
Mason nodded, the words seeping into his mind as they stood before the fireplace, and even in that moment, he could feel the beginnings of a new wave of ideas.
(|- - - - -[H]- - - - -|)
"Ken, could I ask a favor?" Mason spoke into his phone as he walked down the lamplit neighborhood street, having just said goodbye to Naomi, Abraham, and Ezekiel.
"Depends on what it is," the voice on the phone said. "But sure."
"Firstly, how early could you be here tomorrow?"
"As early as you'd need me. Need me to bring anything?"
Mason glanced over his shoulder as a nearby bush rustled, but quickly turned back. Probably just a raccoon.
"Well, yeah."
He turned the corner onto his street, spotting his house and the now empty driveway in front of it.
"A U-Haul."
(|- - - - -[H]- - - - -|)
Mason wiped some sweat from his forehead as he stood up, admiring their work. He and Ken had just finished constructing the last bed frame, an assorted mess of paper instructions and tools sitting on the floor around them in one of the smaller bedrooms. Now that it was in place, the room felt much more welcoming, even if it just had a bed and a small dresser.
"That's the last of them," Ken said as he stood up straight, stretching his arms. The mid-thirties man was certainly more fit than Mason was, and as he wiped his bald head, he gave Mason a relieved sigh. "I hope it was worth it."
Mason nodded. "Definitely. Thanks again for helping."
"Yup," Ken said. "It's sort of part of my job," he added matter-of-factly.
As they cleaned up, Ken asked, "So, you going to explain to me what all of this is really about?"
"I'm going to try and find some roommates again," Mason said simply as they carried the tools and leftover building supplies downstairs. "It doesn't make any sense for a place like this to go to waste with just one person living here."
"Some company sounds like it'd be good for you," Ken replied.
Once most of the miscellaneous items had been put away, Mason gave Ken one last thank you before the assistant left. Ken had always been somewhere between a father figure, uncle, and friend to Mason, helping him out with the financial side of things, as well as with the more hands-on matters at the house. It was odd at first getting used to having him around, but it had become fairly normal over the past couple of years.
Mason took a walk about the house, admiring their handiwork from the past two days. The various bedrooms were now all occupied with furniture once again, with beds, dressers, and end tables filling the previously empty spaces. It had been an arduous process, but it felt good to be productive, and even in his soreness Mason beamed at the newly furnished house. It seemed a small step closer to feeling like a home again. Now all it needed was some residents.
He wasn't lying when he had told Ken he planned on getting roommates, at least not entirely. However, his experiences with Reyna and the rest of the demigods did give him some ideas about who he'd be wanting to stay here.
"One last thing…" Mason said to himself as he walked downstairs, stepping outside into the backyard. It was fairly dark outside, the sun having set at least an hour or so ago. He made his way over to the edge of the yard where the land met the lake and stepped onto the small dock that stretched out a few feet into the water, getting down on his chest to lean over and look underneath it, glancing about the shadowed underside of the dock.
"Should work…" he muttered as he leaned back up, and as he did, he caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye, glancing back to some of the shrubbery on the side of the house. He trained his eyes on the spot for a moment, watching for another glimpse of movement, before averting his eyes and looking back out at the twilight-lit lake and sky, an ember of hope flickering in his chest that his story wasn't over just yet.