MAIN TITLE: The Keeper of Fate

WARNINGS: See first chapter for warnings. Also, once again this chapter's flashback strongly implies sexytimes (still can't believe I just typed that) happening off-screen.

NOTES: Thanks to angel2u, FallenAngel10086, MeganLeBlanc, eViLIsabelle, Fangisnotmyfirstname, Neela4232, Hope and love, chaSing b0b, Kiriva and nickiR0x for reviewing this chapter!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the PJO series. Rick Riordan does. I also don't own 'Hard to Concentrate' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

Chapter 17: I Survive 'Hug Dess' Day

"You're sure Chiron said you couldn't, right?"

I groan. "For the love of Hephaestus, Annabeth, I'm sure."

The blond frowns. "But he tells me everything. Why won't he let you tell me what's going on?"

"Because it's dangerous and none of your business, and you're better off not knowing," I explain, impatience leaking into my voice.

Annabeth crosses her arms and glares at me. "I'll find out whether you tell me or not. You know I will."

"Yeah, well tell that to Chiron, not me," I reply, turning away from her. "Listen, have you seen Thalia anywhere? She said she wanted to talk to me before I leave."

Annabeth's expression turns sour at the mention the daughter of Zeus. Every time someone says the girl's name, Annabeth is reminded that while she is left almost entirely in the dark, Thalia knows exactly why Clarisse and I are leaving, and where we're going.

It's not Thalia's fault–or mine–that Chiron won't let us tell the daughter of Athena about the Labyrinth. Personally, I think she could really help us. Clarisse and I know next to nothing about the maze. We're going in blind. If Annabeth was involved, she could probably at least give us a little guidance.

Unfortunately, the second the centaur decided that Clarisse and I would be going on the quest, he decided that absolutely no one else would be told about the Labyrinth. Heck, the only people who are supposed to know that we're even leaving are our siblings. Annabeth, of course, managed to trick Thalia into telling her why we were always hanging around the Big House lately.

It's been a week since I found out about the Labyrinth, but all the planning in the world isn't going to help Clarisse and me. We both know it. Thalia knows it. Chiron knows it. But he still won't let us tell Annabeth. Though he's never really said, everyone knows that Annabeth is his favourite camper. She's like a daughter to him, and what kind of father would want his kid involved in all of this?

So Annabeth will just have to deal with being frustrated at her own ignorance.

"Look, Annabeth, I really can't tell you where I'm going. What I can tell you? It's the kind of place where people get killed. So I'd really appreciate it if you just told me where Thalia is, gave me a goodbye hug, and left me in peace, because honestly? This might be the last time you ever see me."

That's the harshest thing I've ever said to her, and I almost regret it when I see the horrified expression on her now chalk white face. But she needs to know the truth, and I know that she can handle it.

The horror vanishes slowly from her face, but she still looks pale. In an extremely subdued voice, she says, "Thalia's by her tree. Dess–"

"Thanks," I interrupt her. "I'd better go."

I'm about to turn around and walk away, but she launches herself at me and hugs me so fiercely I can barely breath.

She pulls away after a few moments and then says, "Bye. Try not to get yourself killed."

I smile at her. "I'll do my best."

When I finally reach the top of Half-Blood Hill, Thalia is sitting with her back against the pine tree that was once her. She doesn't seem to notice me until I'm standing directly in front of her, my shadow stretching across the grass.

"Oh." She looks up at me in surprise and blinks. "Hey. Come sit, you're blocking my sun."

"'Kay." I plop down beside her. We sit in silence for a moment, and I can't really tell if it's awkward or not. Finally I speak, my voice breaking through the quiet. "You said you wanted to talk to me before I left."

"Yeah, I did." She plucks a blade of grass out of the ground.

"What did you want to talk about?" I ask her.

She purses her lips, and I guess instantly what's on her mind.

"Listen, Thalia. In a couple of hours I'm going to be leaving the place that's been my home for the past three years. I'm going to wander into an underground maze that drives people crazy with only Clarisse for company. The last thing I want to talk about right now is Luke."

"I know you don't want to talk about it. But we have to," she says, not looking at me.

"Fine," I say. "Talk."

She takes a deep breath. "There's a chance you might run into him in there. You know it's true, Dess. So I'm telling you now–if you do run into him, and you get the chance to kill him, don't."

My mouth falls open in shock. This isn't what I was expecting. "I– Don't kill– What?"

"I know he's on the enemy side, but it's really not necessary to kill him," Thalia hurriedly continues. "You could just bring him back here, and we could figure out what he's doing in the Labyrinth–"

I watch her scrambling for excuses, for reasons, for anything that will keep him alive. Then, internally rolling my eyes, I interrupt her, "Thalia, shut up for a second, will you? You have nothing to worry about. Have you seen him fight? When would I ever be in a position to kill him?"

She doesn't look convinced. She glares at me. I hesitate for one short second. "Look, even if I had the opportunity, I don't think I would. He's done horrible things, and I've grown to hate him, but… Whatever else he is, he's a human being. I don't think I could ever kill a human being," I tell her quietly.

She considers my words for a moment. Then she seems to decide that I mean it, and she relaxes. "Okay. I was just making sure, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "Is that all you wanted to talk about, or…"

"That's all. Well, actually, I did want to wish you good luck. Don't let Clarisse drive you mad before the Labyrinth does." She smiles.

"I'll see what I can do." I regard her for a second, and then, unable to stop myself, blurt out a question that has been in the back of my mind for a long while. "You know before, when we had that fight?"

"Yeah," she says, instantly wary. "I remember."

"Well, something you said has been bothering me for a while." She just raises an eyebrow, so I keep going. "You said that Luke and you were something, and then you just suddenly stopped. So I was wondering…what were you going to say?"

"Dess, I don't think–" she starts.

"No," I tell her. "No, I want to know. I won't get mad at you." And I mean it. I feel oddly calm, but it's not forced at all.

She stares down at the cabins in the distance. "To be honest Dess, I don't really know what I was going to say," she confesses. "Luke and I… I know the way I acted made it seem like we used to be more than friends, but we actually never were. I'll admit I had a crush on him, but I don't think he ever felt the same. And for me, our friendship was always more important. We loved each other in the sense that we were family, but at the end of the day, the truth is that we both cared more about Annabeth than we did about each other."

I listen to her explanation, and I hate the sharp feeling of relief that's flowing through me.

Abruptly, I stand up. "I have to get ready for the quest. I'll see you when–if–I come back."

Thalia stands up, too, and gives me a brief hug.

"Good luck," she says again.

She sits back down beside her tree, and I turn and sprint down the hill towards the cabins.

I'm about to open the door to my cabin when someone clears their throat behind me. I whirl around and take an automatic step back when I see Cheryl standing there.

I wouldn't normally be afraid of a daughter of Aphrodite, but she's been acting very strange lately. You remember that prank Thalia and I pulled on her, and how worried I was about what she would do to me afterwards? Well she never even tried to get revenge or anything. It's unnerving.

I ran into to her after leaving the Big House last week, and she looked just about ready to murder me. Then a second later she suddenly turned and walked away. She hasn't talked to me since, and I've been worried about what she's planning.

"Uh, hey, Cheryl. Nice to see you. I have somewhere to be, so I really don't have time to chat." I laugh nervously. I wish I had my sword with me. Or any kind of weapon at all.

"Somewhere to be? As in inside your cabin, packing?" she asks knowingly.

I freeze for a second and then force myself to relax. She's just messing with me. After all, how could she possibly know?

Deciding to play dumb (which admittedly isn't that hard for me), I roll my eyes and say, "Why would I be packing? I know you want me gone, Brookes, but nothing you say is going to make me leave."

I know I'm doomed when she doesn't even flinch at hearing her last name. "I know you think my head is entirely full of air, but it's actually not. I've seen you, Clarisse, and Thalia constantly whispering to each other. At first I thought you guys were planning another prank to play on me, but than I noticed that you kept sneaking into the Big House when no one was looking."

Completely stunned by her insightfulness, I make a final, feeble attempt at deceiving her. "Cheryl, we were planning a prank. We were in the Big House so often because there are objects in the attic that we need in order to pull it off."

"That's a load of bull," she says bluntly. "You wouldn't go into the attic if you were offered all the money in the world. And anyways, Chiron wouldn't let you into to the Big House just to get stuff for a prank. Not to mention Mr. D would vaporize you. So out with it. What's this quest about?"

"I can't tell you," I say, deciding that there's no point in pretending anymore. "I'm not allowed."

"Why?" Cheryl demands. "Did Chiron say you couldn't, or is it because of something in the prophecy you got?"

That last bit startles me so much that I speak without thinking. "We didn't get a prophecy. Clarisse said that because it's not a normal quest we didn't need one."

I clap a hand on my mouth the second the words are out. Cheryl immediately pounces on my slip-up. "Not a normal quest? What does that mean?"

I hesitate. Surely there's no harm in telling her, as long as I don't mention the Labyrinth… "Well, most quests only last a couple of weeks, because they usually have some sort of time limit."

"And this quest has no time limit?" Cheryl guesses.

I nod.

"But hang on a second," she protests. "That one time when Luke went to the Garden of Hesperides, he didn't have a time limit. He was gone more than a month. But he still had a prophecy. His quest wasn't even one of those save-the-world ones like Jackson's quest was."

"What makes you think this quest is one of those," I challenge her.

"Chiron wouldn't be involved so much if it was. And you wouldn't spend so much time planning," she responds instantly.

I stare at her in disbelief for a moment. "My gods, Cheryl, where has your brain been all this time?" She scowls at me. "Relax, I was just joking–mostly.

"…Okay, you can't tell anyone I told you this, but I think Clarisse is scared of the Oracle. I'm pretty sure the last time she went to get a prophecy wasn't fun, and I don't think she wanted to go through that again. I offered to go–don't scoff like you think I'm lying, I'm telling the truth! I offered to get the prophecy instead–whether I actually would've gone through with it is an entirely different story–but Chiron says that because it's Clarisse's quest, she's the only one allowed to receive the prophecy. And she absolutely refused. So we have no prophecy."

"That's probably for the best. I think a lot of prophecies wouldn't come true if no one ever heard them," Cheryl reflects.

"Seriously," I say, shivering, "stop doing that. You're creeping me out. Do you know how strange it is to watch you open your mouth and hear a string of intelligent words come out?"

Cheryl glowers at me.

"Look, you were actually right before, I really do have to pack. So assuming I survive, I'll see you around." I wrench open the door.

"Dess–" For a second she looks like she's debating whether or not to continue. "I don't, you know."

"You don't what?" I ask her, confused.

She meets my eyes. "I don't want you gone." Before I can even respond, she tackles me with a hug and then lets go just as quickly. I'm still standing there with my mouth hanging open when she turns and heads back into her cabin.

I do the same, vaguely wondering if it's 'Hug Dess' day. Or maybe it's just a sign of the apocalypse.

And I have no idea why, but I can't seem to decide which option is worse.

A couple of hours later, when I've gathered all the necessities into a backpack (food, first aid stuff, explosive objects such as grenades, food, my pocket blowtorch, a dagger, and food), it's finally time to say goodbye to my brothers.

I'm starting to think it really is 'Hug Dess' day, because the second I zip my backpack shut Jake throws his arms around me and squeezes me so tightly I'm surprised my ribs don't crack. Beckendorf is next, and his huge arms wrapped around me make me feel like I'm a little doll that he's holding. Zeth embraces me shyly, not really used to human contact. I am beyond glad that they didn't hug me as hard as Jake did, because otherwise my ribs might have actually broken.

Finally it's Gareth's turn. Instead of hugging me, though, he gestures towards the stairs leading into the basement. I glance at the rest of my brothers, but they look just as surprised as I do. I shrug my shoulders and follow Gareth down the stairs.

When we reach the bottom of the steps, we're greeted with the usual sight; a rectangular room with twenty-two doors. Ten on the really long wall we're facing and ten on the wall opposite it, and one door each on the other two walls. You see, the longer walls have doors leading to our underground rooms. The other two doors lead directly to the Hephaestus tunnels.

The really great thing about the basement is that it's pretty much soundproof. So this is where we go if we want to have private conversations, which isn't very often. This really makes me wonder what Gareth needs to say to me that he can't say in front of everybody else.

"Well?" I cross my arms. "What did you want to say that you couldn't say in front of everybody else?"

"I'm not going to be here when you get back," he says bluntly.

Startled, I ask him, "When are you–"

"As soon as summer session is over," he answers. "Beckendorf is more than ready to take over, and Xavier and Elliot have wanted to leave for a while now. We already found an apartment. So we're going to head into to the city in a few days. Elliot's going to get some sort of computer job, and Xavier–well, he's a son of Athena. I'm sure he's not going to have any trouble getting a job."

"What about you?"

"Well, the underwater Cyclops forges aren't the only places you can make equipment for demigods. Dad has a few set up across America, and the main one is in New York City, of course, because it's close to Olympus and Camp Half-Blood. So he offered me a job there, and I accepted."

Impressed, I ask, "Are you going to be making swords, or…" I trail off. I've just remembered that he's not very good at forging weapons.

"No, I'll be crafting armour and things like that." He studies me for a moment. "Dess, do you know why I'm so bad at forging weapons?"

"Uh, no, I don't," I reply, half wondering if he was reading my mind or something.

"Part of it is because I'm just not talented in that area," he acknowledges. "But part of it is that I don't want to make weapons. I don't like the idea of making something that will be used to kill others. And I think you're the same way."

I jerk back in surprise. "What?"

But already his words are making sense. The Hunter's bow I made was actually pretty amazing. I'd wondered about that for a while, because I didn't think a bow was any different than any other weapon. But it is. The bow itself doesn't really do much. It's the arrows that really cause damage. When I make swords, I always have a fleeting image of them being used in battle. But with the Hunter's bow, I just saw the bow. It was so easy to imagine that it was never going to be used to hurt anybody. The only reason I threw it away was to spite Apollo.

Gareth watches my face as I consider all this. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"I think so," I admit. "But how come I can't craft armour either?"

He scratches his head again, his expression thoughtful. "Well, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe you're just naturally bad at it. Or maybe you just don't like the idea of the armour being necessary."

My spirits plummet. "So I'm pretty much useless, than. Can't make weapons, can't forge armour… What kind of daughter of Hephaestus am I?"

"The kind who can forge objects that are often overlooked, but are really just as important as swords and shields." He grins slyly. "Like anklets, for instance."

My face heats up. "How did you know–"

"Dess, seriously, where else would you have gotten it?" he questions, and I have no retort.

"Listen, you don't have to be ashamed of forging jewellery," Gareth says quietly. "It's important to forge things that help us fight. But it's just as important to create things that remind us what we're fighting for. It's important to make the world a more beautiful place in any way you can, so that at the end of the day, when you're sick and tired of the constant struggle, you can look around you and remember that it's all worth it."

He smiles at the stunned expression on my face and then hugs me. When he pulls away he nods at the stairs.

"Come on, soldier. You have a quest to go on."

When we rejoin the rest of our brothers, Chiron and Clarisse are there waiting for us. The daughter of Ares is carrying a massive duffel bag, which probably weighs about ten times as much as my backpack.

"All ready to go?" Chiron asks.

"Yeah." I grab my bag by the right strap and sling it over my shoulder, at the same time patting my pocket to reassure myself that my anklet is still there. "All ready." I turn to Clarisse. "You sure you don't want to tell Isabel we're leaving?"

"I'm sure," she says, her voice certain. "Let's just go."

There's another round of goodbye hugs from my brothers. I even let Chiron give me a brief one-armed hug. Clarisse mostly just nods at people and shakes hands. When it's time to go and we can't delay it anymore, I head back into the basement, Clarisse right behind me. I lead her not to the doors leading to the tunnels, but instead to the one leading to my underground room.

"Okay," she says grudgingly as I enter the pass code into the keypad right beside the door and the entrance instantly slides open, "I still prefer the landmines around my cabin, but this is pretty cool."

We enter the room and Clarisse doesn't even bat an eye when she sees how messy it is. There are clothes strewn all over the floor. On one side of the room is a double bed pushed against the wall with a shelf mounted above it. Against the opposite wall there's a desk and a chair. The bed itself is unmade, the sheets and covers carelessly thrown all over the place as though someone has just woken up and pushed the blankets away. The shelf above it has metal and wrenches and blowtorches piled up on it. On the other side of the room, the desk is buried under junk.

Clarisse looks incredibly disinterested in all this until she catches sight of something on the desk.

"Why do you have a radio down here?" she asks, striding over to the desk before I can stop her. She picks up the thing and brushes a thick layer of dust off it. "When did you last clean this place, the Stone Age?"

"The harpies don't come down here," I protest defensively. "And I don't either anymore. I haven't been here in almost a year."

"Why not?" She glances around the room appraisingly. "This place looks all right to me. I mean, it could use some barbed wire, but other than that, it's not that bad. You even have a double bed! …Actually, now that I think about it, why do you have a double bed?"

I pretend I don't hear the question. "Look, stop fooling around and come over here, will you?"

Clarisse ignores me and continues fiddling with the radio. I sigh and climb onto the bed. I reach my arm up and pull a huge block of copper off the shelf. Behind it, almost completely unnoticeable, is a small, square metal panel that I easily remove, only to discover another keypad. I type in the password and the section of the wall between the bed and the desk starts to tremble. It opens slowly, revealing a long corridor.

Clarisse scowls like she's trying really hard not to seem too impressed. She sets the radio down on the desk and stalks forward towards the doorway. She glances down at her feet as she kicks aside all the abandoned clothing on the floor.

Then she suddenly stops walking.

"What now?" I groan.

"You wear boxers?" she asks incredulously, pointing at the offending item.

I automatically reply, "Oh, those aren't mine."

"Then whose–" Clarisse begins, and I immediately realize my mistake. In a sudden burst of understanding, her eyes dart from the boxers to the double bed. She backs away from both like they're radioactive.

"Oh, EW! I can't believe you two did– Oh, that's disgusting–" She breaks off, shuddering.

"Oh, shut up. It's not like I knew anyone else would ever be coming down here," I snap back. "Now can we please go?"

"Gladly," she grumbles.

Together, we enter the Hephaestus tunnels. I press a button that makes the wall start to slide back into place. I definitely don't want anyone coming in here–not that they would be able to get into my room in the first place, but you never know.

The doorway shuts completely, and we're swallowed by darkness.

"Hustle, bustle, and so much muscle; Cells about to separate Now I find it hard to concentrate and–"

Music blares from the radio and then abruptly cuts off. Luke, who is shirtless and sprawled across the double bed, stops lazily tracing patterns on the sheets and shoots up when the noise stops.

"Hey!" he protests. "I was listening to that."

"I know that. But unfortunately for you I find it hard to concentrate with music on," I respond.

"Are you still trying to finish King Lear?" He lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Give it up, babe, you can barely even get through The Very Hungry Caterpillar, let alone Shakespeare."

"Thanks for being so supportive, babe," I answer sarcastically. "And for your information, I have gotten through Shakespeare before. I read Hamlet."

"Yeah, you read Hamlet," he agrees. "But only to spite your mother. And it's not so much that I think you can't finish it, it's more that I think you'll give yourself a massive head ache while trying. And–" he smiles, his gaze sweeping slowly along my almost entirely bare legs "–you have other things you could be doing right now."

I roll my eyes. "Perv."

"Hey, now, that's a very serious accusation," he says, obviously trying very hard to refrain from grinning. "If you had a problem with me checking you out, then you wouldn't be wearing only my T-shirt right now."

"Yeah, whatever," I reply. "But seriously, I have to finish reading this. It's supposed to be on the exam–even though you told me I'd never have to read Shakespeare again." I glare at him.

"Well you wouldn't have if you didn't insist on getting your diploma through the Canadian system. Chiron doesn't have any influence there. He can't get them to remove the Shakespeare plays from the list of required texts," he explains patiently for what must be the twentieth time.

Yeah, we actually do continue our education here. We're constantly training in the summer, but if you're a year-rounder than you have to attend classes on math and english and stuff. Many of the satyrs have been through school several times, so they're qualified to teach us.

The problem with me is that I'm from Canada. What I learned in my two or three years of high school is not what Americans learn in that same amount of time. I don't know if I learned more or less. I just learned differently.

Luckily there was a satyr who went through the Canadian education system–specifically the Ontario one–enough times that he could teach me. It seemed like a better alternative than repeating three years of high school the American way, until I was told that I had to read King Lear.

Ugh. Well there's no getting out of it now. I just have to suck it up until I get my diploma.

Luke sees the resolve form on my face and groans, "Oh, come on, just take a break for a few minutes! …Or hours…"

Oh, to heck with Shakespeare! Luke's right, I need a break. I drop my copy of King Lear onto the desk and Luke cheers. He stops celebrating when I turn the radio back on. The song he was listening to is just finishing.

"And finally you have found someone perfect, And finally you have found... Yourself."

The song ends and the radio announcer person's voice says, "And that was 'Hard to Concentrate' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, folks. That concludes our music hour. Stay tuned for a report on weather and traffic…"

"Weather and traffic," I muse aloud. "What a great way to spend my break."

"What? You're going to spend your break listening to that?" Luke asks in dismay.

"Yeah," I answer, looking at him in (fake) surprise. "What else would I do?"

However, far from further incensing him, my words make him relax. "Oh, good. For a second there I thought you were serious."

"I am!" I protest.

"No, you're not," he says, with such certainty that I feel annoyed.

I storm over to the bed and slap his bare shoulder lightly. "The weather and traffic are very important!" I lie. "You should be paying complete attention to every word that guy is saying–"

In one swift movement Luke grabs my arm and pulls me on top of him. I can feel his chest rising and falling as he laughs. My hair spills onto his shoulder and he reaches up with his right hand to cup my cheek.

He drags my face down to his and whispers in my ear, "Well, I would pay attention to that report–" His lips press against my jaw. "–but you kind of make it hard to concentrate."

Author's Note: I made up all that stuff about them getting lessons from satyrs. Though it makes sense, they have to get some kind of education somehow.

Reviews appreciated.