Chapter 5: Malcolm Pace - Shame

Author's Note:

Before you continue reading this chapter, I want you all to know I love Annabeth. She's way up on my list of favs, just keep this in mind when you're reading. I also edited the previous chapters because I hated how I phrased some sentences but most of it stayed the same. Without further ado, here's the fifth chapter!

Author's Notes:

Thank you to I'mALazyProcastinator for grammar checking this fic!

[Malcolm is a small, quiet guy. His matted hair brushed the brim of his black rimmed glasses. With his wiry frame and timidity it was hard to believe this is the guy who led his cabin to battle, who fought toe to toe with Clarisse, who single handedly slayed 5 laistrygonian giants, who Annabeth said was the most toughest kid in her cabin. We sat in Athena's Cabin library. He played with his camp beads and stare at the bookshelves behind me.]

The Second Titan War.

I wish for nothing more than to forget those four years.

[He paused, eyebrows furrowing.]

We were…we were the most prepared cabin I guess you can say. We had a plan for every monster we face, a way to stop them, kill them, stall, maim, slow. We thought and practiced countless scenarios and situations where one of us was trapped or injured or surrounded. Even our youngest, 13, was well-versed in all of our tactics.

["Was this Annabeth's idea?" Malcolm shook his head, a bitter edge to his tone.]

No. It was mine. Annabeth had nothing to do with the planning. I don't even think she has a clue as to what we were doing. She was too busy being on quests or hanging with Percy. I think I spent more time doing her duties as counselor than she ever did.

It was to be expected though. She had a lot on her shoulders and I was glad to take some of the burden but, I'm going to be honest, she's an abhorrent counselor. A lot of our younger siblings are absolutely terrified of her. They wouldn't even tell her if they're staying year-round or going home.

She's more suited to be a commander than a counselor, I think.

[Oh.]

Athena Cabin is unlike the rest. We don't have Hephaestus cabin's innate knowledge of machines nor Ares cabin's natural weaponry skills. We can't grow trees, make water move, or unlock doors with our minds.

But what we lacked in godly powers, we made up in intellect. We pick up on crafts, machinery fairly quickly. We can design, plan, and counter faster than any demigod.

We were…the only cabin to go home without a casualty.

["You must have been relieved, happy." Malcolm grimaced and he fisted his camp necklace.]

Relieved? Yes. Happy? No. 16 of my fellow brethrens passed away.

["I-I-yeah, I didn't mean-"]

16 died. When it should have been none. When it could have been none.

In a battle it doesn't matter how well-trained you are. What truly matters is luck. There is no guarantee everything won't go exactly hand in hand with your plans. A monster may get a lucky strike in. A demigod may lose focus. Even something as small as an untied shoelace could turn the shift of the battle. So whenever we could, we limit their numbers so less of us had to engage physically.

Mikaela was the one who came up with the idea to line the bridge with pockets of burstable greek fire. Just a little brush against the thin wrapping was enough. And it was not particularly difficult to weave ropes into barriers or traps. We had made woven baskets for shields, pottery for stink bombs, and so many more.

Our more talented crafters could knit and crochet scarves and gloves that were impervious to poison and tears. I couldn't tell you how many times those knittings and crochets saved my life.

We made enough so each of our siblings were well protected and equipped.

We could have made enough for everyone in the camp back then…but we didn't.

["Why didn't you?" Malcolm looked away. His hand holding his necklace tightened.]

Because of a grudge, my grudge.

When Luke left so did a fourth of the camp. Most came from the Hermes cabin but there was still a few from each cabin. It wasn't talked about much but it was easy to see. Less people at a table, empty beds, missing weapons. And although our cabin had less than the others, there were some…comments, to put it lightly, about our loyalty.

Most of it stem from the fact that Annabeth was Luke's closest friend.

Suddenly, it was like middle school all over again. People whispering behind our backs. Pointing and sneering. Spit balls and noogies and wedgies. It was annoying but bearable. I keep telling myself it would be over soon. They'll snap out of it and realize how foolish they're being and we can all go back to being friends. So we endured it.

It grew worse after Thalia's Pine was poisoned. Training sessions became excuses to beat us up. Spiders-black widows and tarantulas and brown recluse-popped up in our beds and bathroom. Our belongings were vandalized and trashed. Monsters would attack us during Capture the Flag games, avoiding all other campers. Clarisse, the biggest bully of them all, would constantly torment me and my younger siblings. Two of my younger brothers said they didn't want to deal with this and left. Maybe to Luke, I have no idea. I never saw them again.

["What did Annabeth do?" Malcolm gave a bitter smile.]

Annabeth, surprisingly, did nothing.

I don't know if she knew about the situation we faced or if she just assume it was nothing but play. I wish I could say for certain. There's no one idiotic enough to prank her, except for maybe the Stoll brothers but she's used to their tactics. Like I said, she's always on a quest or hanging with Percy.

Most of it came to a halt when we started fighting back. Several dislocated joints, fractured arms, and a close beheading earned us the reputation of being a cabin not to be messed with.

Some apologized. As if that would've smoothed over the 2 years of bullying.

I could have, no, I should have been the bigger person. I shouldn't have encourage our behavior. I shouldn't have isolated us. But I harbored a grudge.

For the next two years of the war, we kept to ourselves. Made weapons, armors, plans. We perfected our fighting styles till we were all hyper-aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses. We let monsters in to practice, no problem in dispatchment.

We never been stronger as a unit but...

The day of the battle in Manhattan, we defended our post and we all walked away with just bruises. All alive and together, victorious. When we fell back to the Empire State Building, Annabeth's orders, and faced the others that's when my euphoria begin to dim. Everywhere we saw demigods bleeding, abrasions and lacerations common among the standing. The sitting, though, were…

I walked through the chaos while my siblings wandered away in a daze.

I saw Will sitting outside of the Empire State Building, drinking a bottle of water. He stared off into space. He was pale, almost gray. His sunken eyes shifted to me as I near him. "Malcolm, glad to see you're alive," he said, "Anyone injured?"

I shook my head.

"That's great," and he got up and left, most likely to attend to more people.

There was a pit in my stomach, a sinking feeling.

I entered the building. Saw Clarisse, a bow in her hand, leaning over a body in armor. Drew in the corner sobbing into a scarf. Travis and Connor dragging limp bodies over to a pile of covered lumps, taking their necklaces away.

[Malcolm grimaced.]

Katie was over by the lumps. She held one of the hands of the covered bodies.

I didn't knows what compelled me to walk over to her but I did.

She was rocking back and forth on her heels, whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over into the hand she held. I knelt beside her. The hand she held was small. The child couldn't have been older than 12. From the side, I stared at her. Blood speckled her cheeks. Bits and pieces of Athena knows what were littered throughout her hair.

I expected her to be crying but she wasn't. She just stared with wide, glossy eyes at the ground as she rocked back and forth. I wanted to say something. But I didn't know what. All I could do was just stare at her and think.

Before… Katie is like the camp mom, she's used to be so…Katie used to have the warmest eyes. But there, they were so cold, so empty.

A few seconds passed then Katie blinked and turned to me. She let go of the hand-it hit the ground with a thump-and said, "Malcolm?" like she couldn't believe it was me. She gave me a tight hug. Her shirt was wet, plastering to mine. Rusting iron filled my nostrils. She pulled away with a wet squelch.

She asked if I was hurt. If I lost anybody. I said no.

She looked away. Her hands went up to cover her mouth and she lowered her head but I could still hear the pained whimper. When she finally look up there was a shaky smile. "That's amazing, Malcolm. I wish I was as strong as you. I-I need to start helping.."

Something rattled by her hand when she stood up. Five necklaces hung from her arm.

I never hated myself so much.

Chapter 6: Guilt