Zoe had been many places in her life, many places indeed. The depths of Challenger Deep, the plains before Kilimanjaro, the depths of the Amazon. It had been her passion, her love, her drive, and she had to fight every step of the way to get to it. Had to scratch and claw and earn every last thing she'd gotten for as long as she could remember.
But it had been worth it. Oh, so worth it to see her work in the latest nature magazine, the newest documentary, to see every last thing she had worked to see herself shared with those who may never get the chance. To see little girls with stars in their eyes and ambition in their souls because of something Zoe had captured. Something Zoe had shown them. An ambition Zoe had fueled.
She was a role model, and the thought was simultaneously what she felt was her greatest achievement and her greatest fear. Maybe it was inspiring hundreds, millions, to pursue dreams and hopes and to fight for everything they wanted instead of waiting for it to fall in their lap, but when she looked back at her life so far…
It was safe to say it hadn't had the best start. Among abandonment from her Mother, and her Father struggling to bear the strain six daughters put on his wallet, the burden of raising five sisters fell upon her shoulders before she could even understand what it meant.
He tried of course. Spent as much time as work would allow, helped any spot he could, tried to take the weight of the world on his shoulders, but there was only so much he could do. So much he could handle.
So she took it upon herself, let the pressure build, let the stress bubble and grow and threaten to swallow her up entirely.
Shattering glass broke her thoughts, one hand shooting to the pepper spray stashed in her pocket as she faced the source.
A drunkard, seemingly mourning the loss of what booze he had and ignoring the swearing of the landlord fast approaching. The bloated man gave the drunk a harsh shove, with a dutiful employee in tow carrying a broom in one hand and a mop in the other.
She relaxed, if only just, and glanced down at the notecard she'd tucked carefully in her pocket.
It was the place. She had already triple checked as much when she'd first tracked him down. It seemed off… wrong in a way that twisted sharply in her chest. He shouldn't be here, but the tugging of her heart gave no option of denying it. Her thumb found the elevator button on an impulse that wasn't her own, pressing it with a harsh thump and a click.
"Who the hell are you?" The landlord's voice would've been foreign if he hadn't just been yelling, and when she turned she found the question to be directed at her, "No spare rooms, girlie."
"No, no, just paying someone a visit." Her voice wouldn't rise above the near-whisper that she spoke with, wouldn't break the even tone, "An old friend, of sorts."
He eyed her suspiciously, and no doubt with a little more of something else she didn't like, appraising her no doubt.
"Who? Never seen you around town before."
"New York is a big city. Faces tend to blend in." She offered instead. It seemed he was feeling persistent, and her escape had yet to arrive.
"I don't 'forget' a face, girlie, especially when it walks through my door." He sniffed, and frowned, "Soul-scarred only. Tired of these damn hopefuls walking through my door."
It was her turn to frown, and press the call button again. What was taking so long?
"What if I'm going to see my soulmate now? What if he's in here?"
"Cute. As I said, we don't have mates in here. Whatever your heart's doin' is jerkin you around. Go find the Venus stand down the street and stop calling my elevator. Damn thing's broken anyway."
She tried not to roll her eyes too hard, as the man settled back behind the desk and the T.V. flickered to life.
Of course Aphrodite was the first thing to show, spaced across the screen with her Muses, gossiping yet again, as always. Funny, the guy didn't seem like the type to be invested in drama, but then again after all that she'd done for Soulmates maybe it was just something everyone tuned into sometimes. Almost everyone, at least, and her initial assessment of the man seemed to sit sour on her tongue. Always judging too quickly, it would seem.
He didn't stop her again, and her thoughts enveloped her focus as soon as the stairwell door thumped closed behind her.
Soulmates were an interesting thing. Of course, most people seemed to love the idea of someone simply 'perfect' for themselves, and the few that didn't like the idea seemed to come from two camps.
Camp one was inevitably those with bad soulmates, or those who knew of them. Abusers, criminals, the kind that could do nothing but take, nothing but hurt. Artemis had been in that camp, and the thought reminded Zoe of just how long it'd been since highschool, and with it…
Artemis had been naive, as hopeful as anyone when she met Orion. Like too many others, their relationship only seemed to grow like sepsis, and one too many bruises were enough for her. Zoe and Apollo both would never feel anything about the hunting trip he'd never returned from. Would never admit to being the last two to see him alive.
Camp two had, what Zoe at least thought, a… deeper dislike. Those who cared not for the idea of a 'fated' one that bound them. One that stripped the choice of who to love. One that forced the hand of their soulmate and got mad when the other wasn't so inclined. She was a part of this camp.
The story was short, but felt harsh as the smell of cigarette smoke that saturated the stairwell.
It had been shortly after the 'Orion Incident', when Zoe could still see it in Artemis' eyes. The cocktail of love and fear and hate and loss and the very ache that seemed to stretch so deep into her soul. The pain had put her out of school for a couple days, the result of losing a soulmate.
On one of the few days she'd shown, they had a field trip to a museum. Something about the Grecian history segment of their textbooks that warranted staring at a bunch of old carvings and drawings of naked dudes. Not that Zoe minded- not the naked dudes, she'd much rather not deal with those or the crass jokes that'd inevitably be made- but taking a day outside of that accursed classroom was rather nice.
That day still played crystal clear behind her eyes. Trying to plan a hike with Artemis to pull her from her funk, picking at a book on the bus, even the very pages of what she read. Page two-hundred to three-hundred of a worn zoology textbook her father had bought on a birthday. Sub-classifications of bovids. It made sense she would remember it, according to all the gurus and love-sick geeks. It wasn't every day you met your soulmate.
She had wandered off in search of a bathroom, with rousing success, and was now on a mission to rejoin the group. Chiron would be mad enough about her wandering off without getting lost.
Unfortunately, it seemed getting lost was her destiny, as she aimlessly drifted through rooms of priceless artifacts and replicas, letting her whim pull her this way and that. A whim that would be her undoing.
He had almost slammed into her as they both rounded a corner in unison, throwing himself out of the way with such dramatism that he ended up violently punching a taxidermied Colosseum lion in the mouth, miraculously not damaging the thing or rolling into more expensive displays.
"Watch where you…re…" His eyes met hers, and the words died on his lips. She couldn't blame him, even if her silence had nothing to do with the rushing, burning bubbling feeling that seemed to envelop every nerve. The chill of icy terror shot through her just as quickly.
Artemis had described the feeling all too well. The feeling when she had first met Orion. The bruises, Zoe's own mother, and the sheer obligation of it seemed to slam into her with all the force of a speeding truck. She took an involuntary step back, and it seemed to snap Percy out of his reverie.
Percy. Percy Jackson. The name seemed burned into her mind, and panic squeezed her throat.
"Zoe." He breathed.
That was it. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, she lunged away, scrambling to put as much distance between them as possible. Across the stone floor, and around another marble statue, she hardly cared to pay attention to her route.
"Hey!" He cried, but already it started to sound distant. She took another turn for good measure, ducking close to a large painting. Her eyes flicked to the plaque, and found 'The Hesperides' in plain text.
"Zoe!" The call repeated, growing fainter and fainter with each bout, even as the feeling in her chest buzzed violently like a hive of angry bees were attempting to escape her heart.
He fell silent soon enough, and only a few minutes had passed before a rather pissed looking employee had discovered her not so subtle hiding spot and toted her to the entrance, and right to a waiting Chiron.
There was no rebuke, only quiet disappointment as she shuffled to the bus.
"Zoe! Wait!" She stiffened, and whipped around in horror.
He was there, squirming to get out of the employee's hold, flailing for all he had.
"WAIT!" She ignored it, and tried to suppress the furious flush of mortification that came with all eyes on her as she slid back to her seat.
"Was that…?" Artemis whispered, watching the boy outside struggle all the more furiously as the door closed behind Chiron. For once in the history of Zoe's time on a bus, it was perfectly silent. No gossiping, no joking, no whining. She shrugged.
"Doesn't matter."
The letters seemed to grow heavy in her pockets, as she paused to catch a breath, lead weights on her very soul itself.
He had sent two, in the end, at least two that her sisters deemed worth giving Zoe. How he had gotten their address was slightly concerning, but since he hadn't shown up on her doorstep she had simply ignored it till it went away. She did not want a soulmate, did not want to know his name or hear his voice.
That did not change that the name Percy Jackson seemed the steadiest thing in her thoughts.
Life moved on from there, as it was bound to. Sisters no longer needed to be cared for, Artemis had gifted Zoe a camera that allowed her to start pursuing her passions, and everything of those days became a suppressed, faraway nightmare.
Her first award winning picture was a fox, arcing back to the snowy earth after hidden prey.
It ended up on a magazine, some minor publication she honestly had long since forgotten. Her dad likely still had the very issue she had been published on tucked away somewhere, where she'd inevitably get it flaunted at some point for some party.
That had been her breakthrough. It caught eyes, and the prize money was nothing to balk at for a sixteen year old. So one competition led to another, led to another, led to another, led to a job offer, led to more.
She didn't stop moving from there, working with bigger and bigger names, till she finally found her way on stage. Not hosting anything, no she wasn't sure her heart could take that, but winning an international competition was no small feat.
So even if it wasn't a big event, it still ended up on quite a few B-list news stations, and became quite the spectacle. Her status as the youngest winner certainly boosted the attention.
Glass crackled underfoot, and she paused, casting one more cursory glance at her card. Trepidation finally started to boil over from her stomach. This was his floor.
Every step brought another doubt from the fog of her mind. Would he care to see her at all? Probably not. Did she want to see him? Well… yes, for all that what she wanted mattered here. For all the hollowness in her heart mattered.
Eight-o-five, Eight-o-seven.
The stench of vomit seemed to drift from under a door, or perhaps it was in the hall with her. It was hard to tell with the dull lighting and miscellaneous stains across the carpet.
Should she be doing this? Invading his life after so long. Even if he did accept her presence, should she put the burden on him?
Eight-thirteen. Her body seemed to lock up, even as her heart thrummed like it had all those years ago. Millions of furious bees struggled to break free, to go straight through that door.
Her hand fought every inch to stay by her side and not rise any higher and fortheloveofGODnot knock!
It gave under the first tap, swaying ever so slightly open. She stared in shock, briefly giving her knuckles a glance as though they caused it to open. When they provided no response, she gave a few more halfhearted raps before slipping inside.
It was dark, with barely enough light for her to carefully step over piles of clothes and bottles and trash as she traversed the narrow hall.
In moments though, it blossomed into a small studio apartment, where another dim light glowed into the darkness. She glanced around, and suppressed the disgust over the trash. Surely he was in here somewhere.
"You certainly aren't who I expected to find me."
She started at the voice, rough and low as it was, whipping to face the source and squinting at the silhouette she could now pick out darker than the rest of the darkness. A low, amused chuckle followed her discovery.
"Can't say I expected to see you again."
"...Percy?" She whispered, unable to muster up anything more.
"That's what they call me." He responded, trailing off into a mutter, "What they used to call me at least."
"What do they call you now?" She dared to ask, finally reaching out and flipping the lights back on. It was not what she expected.
He looked… homeless really. Unkempt hair, a scraggly beard, and whatever pajamas he was wearing, though that didn't keep her attention long.
Smooth, polished steel gleamed in his hand, long barrel pressed right into the underside of his chin and finger lingering dangerously close to the trigger. Those eyes, oh so familiar, stared back with nothing. Emotionless. Tired.
"They were gonna call me a corpse, by the time someone found me." He smiled, but the motion held no amusement, "Seems it's just been fast tracked a couple days."
The words seemed to cling to her tongue, block her throat, stall her lungs.
"You-" She cleared her throat, tersely, "Hold on."
"Oh, I'm spending the rest of my life here." The grin turned sardonic. Mocking, "No rush, say what you must and be on your way."
"It's not- Can we just- get a coffee and talk?" She offered lamely, "Let's just talk for a bit."
He actually laughed. A body shaking, raucous cackle that felt far harsher than it should've.
"You want to talk to me?" The chair creaked under his weight as he pitched back towards a curtained window, "Should I be checking for flying hogs?"
"C'mon." She protested quietly, "I know. I was awful, I was wrong, I made a mistake. Come yell at me if you want, or listen to me if you don't want to talk. I need to talk to you, Percy."
He studied her quietly, expression indecipherable, for a minute. Two.
"What the hell." He muttered, tossing the gun aside in a way that made her flinch violently, "You can speak your peace, so I can get mine."
She opened her mouth to argue, to protest, but fell short. It wasn't a deal, it was a statement.
So, despite everything that urged her to push, she kept silent. Let it speak for itself, and let him think. He sat for a second, and gave her another look.
"Well? I'll be out in a second."
"No." She crossed her arms across her chest, and steeled herself against his incredulous look, "I'm not leaving you alone."
"Are you-" It was his turn to fall silent, before taking a long, slow breath, "Fine."
He pitched forward in the seat, grabbing hold of a prosthetic leg she hadn't noticed till now and leaning forward. He was… missing a leg? Well, he still had a thigh at least, but there was definitely something missing there. With a sigh, he answered her unspoken question.
"IED." He answered curtly, kicking his actual foot into a slipper before standing, "Take me to your coffee, Nightshade."
Her name from his lips sent a strange, rolling shudder down her back. She complied, though, and soon enough they were back on the streets, drifting till she came across a cafe that looked decent enough.
Circe's Cafe was their final settling point, and a place she'd actually stopped by before. A place with decent coffee and good pastries, and a quiet enough atmosphere to allow them to talk.
For a while, she'd done the talking. Spilled her guts to the guy she'd only met once, laid her woes and worries and terrors at his feet to be judged.
For all of it he seemed impassive, a stony mask of indifference that gave away no anger, no sorrow.
At once she wondered how strange they looked, a woman all but pleading with what looked like a homeless man in the middle of the cafe. Not the strangest thing, maybe, far stranger pairs had been pulled together by fate.
"I've said my peace," She began slowly, watching him just as he watched her, "you joined the military?"
He only seemed mildly surprised by the question, and picked at one of the numerous scars she'd noted on his hands.
"Two tours." He nodded, "Would've gone for three if I could."
"Your leg?" It felt like a dangerous territory to be in, a dangerous line of questioning.
"Not the worst thing I lost out there." He stood and gave his empty cup a purposeful shake, with a questioning look her way. It took a moment to understand what he meant, but she shook her head. With a shrug and a slight limp, he made his way back to the counter, giving her the chance to sift through her thoughts.
It felt freeing in a sense, even if his opinion of her seemed no different, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
His words before he left still hung in her mind, with an ugly feeling in her stomach. There was something more to that, something she wouldn't like. But he had softened slightly, or so she thought. There was a doubt that he'd ask if she wanted another drink before her speech, quite a large one.
He shuffled on his feet while he waited, prosthetic hidden beneath his sweatpants. She just watched, and waited, till three drinks landed in his hands.
One, as it turned out and despite her refusal, was for her. Some icy, chocolatey looking thing. She eyed his, also frozen though probably some sort of fruit flavor, as he almost greedily gulped one down.
Finally catching her gaze, he stopped, gently placed his drink on the table, and waited. Swallowing the trepidation, and the anxiety with a cautious sip, she finally spoke.
"Start from the beginning."