Percy Jackson hadn't meant to fall in love with Jason Grace. It was the sort of thing that you didn't know you were heading towards until you fell off the edge, barreling full speed towards the end. He hadn't meant to fall in love with Clint Barton, either. His taste was apparently just in blondes and blondes alone.
And boy, do they ruin him.
It was on the mountain that he fell in love, and he can't even reason why. It wasn't as if it was a particularly romantic place to be. He was dating Annabeth, but they were fairly strained at the time. Her traveling for work and study coupled with his retreat into combat training had created a rift between them that he wasn't sure they could bridge. They had grown in two different directions after the war.
He'd been jealous at first that Annabeth could forget so easily. She settled into civilian life much better than he did. After all, she never wanted war; she never liked the mechanics of it or the chaos required to contain it, despite how much she thrived in the midst of it all. Percy, on the other hand, was at home in a war. He did his best work when fighting, no matter who was the enemy. He feared for who he was outside of it all.
War flowed in his veins, the same as blood, the same as fear. The same as rage.
He understood Travis's rage, more than he knew. Years of seeing his family die, holding demigods in his arms as the light left their eyes over and over again. Feeling his sword pierce the flesh of those he once called brother.
He knew. He knew better than anyone.
But the life and love of a demigod is a strange thing to someone who hasn't lived it. There isn't a way to describe the all-consuming responsibility of it. The gods place the weight of survival upon their children, small Atlases doing their part to shoulder the burden the world-over. He had a gray streak to prove his part in it. For others, the gray is better hidden. Some days, he wished his was, too.
He'd asked Chiron one day why they do what they do. The man had been alive for so long, he figured he would have some sort of insight into their existence. There was an overwhelming amount of creatures on the Earth that could help: why did it have to be them?
Because it is.
It didn't feel like a sufficient answer at the time. Chiron had trained hero after hero, seeing all of them perish in one way or another at the behest of the gods; would he not have learned anything from that? Would he not have learned how to stop what would one day become their fate?
Percy Jackson stands on the steps of the cabin and he finally understands.
Why does it have to be him? Why did it have to be Travis? Why, why, why…
Because it is. Because it always will be.
The door to the cabin swings open on squealing hinges. The sound echoes through the darkness and Percy steps through the doorway, ever cautious. Despite its age, the cabin is fairly clean. Bunk beds, devoid of mattresses, stand in even rows, the same dark, rough-hewn wood that he remembers. Percy reaches for a light and finds none. The light switch had been broken off long ago and lays in pieces on the floor.
The floorboards creak.
Percy had never been much of a man of stealth, but he wishes he were as light-footed as some of his cousins in that moment. The heavy nature of the sea betrays him. Between the two of them, Percy was always the slipperiest one, while Jason had a commanding presence, but Percy was far from someone who could slip easily into the shadows.
"Travis." He makes himself known; there is no use in pretending.
The cabin answers with solemn silence, wind finding its way through the gaps in the wood like whistling birds. Small patches of light come through the windows, diffused by both the dust on the panes and the heavy blanket of clouds outside. The small foothills of the mountain feels like a world unto its own; a snow globe that only few were privy to.
The eye of an everlasting storm.
"I know you're here." Percy feels incredibly stupid. He knows he's at a disadvantage here, but he can't stop himself from calling out, danger be damned. "I just want to talk—"
The danger finds him, and all goes dark.
—
The light has changed when Percy wakes.
Low dapples of moonlight glide across the cabin's floors, disappearing under beds and into crevices. The shadows swim before his eyes as he struggles to regain his senses, his head groggy and skin stinging. He guesses it is near midnight, judging by the moon and his own internal clock, but he can't be sure. The blow to the head has shaken him, jumbling his thoughts until they were impossible to parse.
"About fucking time."
Percy lifts his head with a groan, wincing through a swollen eye as he puts all of his energy towards focusing on the crouched form of Travis Stoll. He wears his trademark grin with an edge of steel to it, the rod grasped in one hand as he observes Percy's prone form.
Percy feels anger rise in his throat and he moves as if to lunge forwards, but is stopped by tight ropes chafing against his arms. He's been lashed to something strong embedded in the wall, something strong enough to contain a demigod such as himself. Just as he'd suspected, Travis had been waiting for him.
"Mmm, I wouldn't try that if I were you," Travis cocks his head to the side to catch Percy's gaze. "Those were made special just to contain a certain demigod. Well— I had originally had them made for Jason, but he ruined more than one of my plans with that gun of his." Travis scoffed, standing. "He was always a crafty one, that Jason. Smarter than his pretty-boy looks made him seem. I guess you weren't the only one to fall victim to his dastardly charm. Did you know Clarisse slept with him too?" He chuckles to himself. "You two should form a club."
A growl emanates from Percy's throat, unbidden and feral. He tracks Travis with his eyes as he paces the small area in front of him, the rod swinging in one hand with a sort of cavalier nonchalance that only a son of Hermes could have.
"Yeah, that guy sure did know how to get around. Tell me, did you sleep with him before or after you broke it off with Annabeth?"
"Shut up." Percy knows better than to rise to the bait that Travis threw at his feet, but his defenses were down, his limbs felt like lead. All he could do now was bide his time until a chance to escape presented itself.
Travis stops to look at him for a moment and chuckles in a self-satisfied way, the tips of his mouth curling up into a Cheshire cat grin. "You weren't so different from him either, you know? Always had to be the best, that Percy Jackson." Travis lets out a sigh and twirls the rod in one hand. "Even if you weren't the one for the job, somehow it always ended up in your hands. God's special little warrior." He moves the rod lightning fast and it strikes Percy across the mouth.
"Can you get on with it?" Percy spits blood onto the rough slats of the floor. It splatters on Travis's shoes. "I'm tired of your monologuing. Didn't they ever teach the Hermes kids how to shut the fuck up?"
Travis rushes him, the rod raised high, his eyes blazing, but stops a foot from striking Percy again. He pauses, the expression dropping, and returns to the soft rumble of that dark chuckle.
"Oh, you almost got me there, pal." He tips the rod towards Percy. The snakes slither and hiss along the golden surface. "But you're not going to get out of this that easy. You don't get to leave the way Jason did, not without serving penance first."
Percy heaves out a breath. One of his teeth is broken, biting into the flesh of his cheek. He takes careful stock of the rest of his injuries as he tries to keep Travis talking.
"And what penance would that be?" Percy glares up at him under half-lidded eyes.
Travis crouches and takes Percy's chin into his hand. The smile is familiar, the feeling behind it is not. "You're going to pay for what you did to them. You're going to pay for the mountain."
—
Flora hadn't expected Percy's mother to hover so much.
She guesses it stems from a lifetime of having to pull Percy out of demigod-related trouble, and Sally wouldn't be wrong if she thought Flora dabbled in the same trouble. It seems to follow demigods wherever they go.
She'd caught onto what Percy was trying to do almost immediately, but she never turned down free food. Sally's similarities to the fading idea of her own mother mesmerized her for a few hours, before it wore off long enough for the realization to dawn on her.
Percy was going to the mountain, and she'd be damned if she let him go without her.
Memories of her abduction were watery at best, but after the stories Percy and Clarisse told of their time there, she managed to piece it all together the best she could. Now, she just needed to find a way out of the apartment and hitch a ride north.
It wasn't easy, escaping in the wee hours of the night, but she put her best Hermes skills to the test and slipped out without waking Sally Jackson. She left a small note telling her not to worry, but she knew it was a moot point.
Four trains and six busses later and she was sticking her thumb out on the side of the highway, hoping against all odds that someone would stop.
A car slows and rolls down its window. "Hey, kid. You need a ride?"
Flora looks them over, assessing their potential thread to her. She hitches her backpack over one shoulder and an empty glass bottle rubs up against the zipper. "Yeah. You heading north?"
—
Percy lost track of time, the sole clock being the strained sunlight filtering through the small windows of the cabin. His head hangs low, dripping with blood and water. For all of Travis's faults, he at least patched Percy up between torturing him. It made him want to laugh in a sick way. He'd been tortured before and this was by far the one with the best customer service he'd experienced.
Travis had left the cabin and Percy is alone. His arms scream from their twisted position above his head, his knees trying to support him from the floor. He isn't sure how long he slept that time. Sometimes he woke to Travis working or talking, sometimes to being doused in water. It gave little relief, save for closing the smallest of his wounds.
But now, Travis was gone, and Percy could figure out his plan.
It wasn't like him to enter a dangerous situation without a plan. Maybe back in the day before he teamed up with Jason, but certainly not since. He had weapons he came in with, but all were taken off him before Travis tied him up, save for Riptide. He couldn't access it with his hands tied like this.
It takes a tremendous amount of strength to push himself up into a crouch, and even more to slowly stand, taking the pressure off of his arms and shoulders. They feel numb and filled with static as he tests his range of motion. Travis had mentioned the ropes being made especially for demigods, but he didn't know what that meant. Perhaps they were infused with magic that dampened their powers, perhaps it meant nothing at all.
Percy sets about feeling the knot. It had been pulled taut by more than a day of him hanging there, but it wasn't a completely lost cause. He works the knot gently, keeping one ear out for any sign of Travis.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go; this wasn't how anything was supposed to go. But he should know better than relying on things going his way. He was a demigod, as was Travis— everything went awry in their presence. If he thought for too long about it, he'd enter a hole he couldn't claw his way out of. Percy lifts onto his toes to bite the knot with a muffled grunt. A bit of the rope eases.
Hope sparks through his gut, hot and bright, and he's spurred to work faster. Eventually, he unties it and his arms drop with a sigh of relief. Percy gives himself a moment to work feeling back into them, when Travis opens the door.
He catches sight of an untied Percy and his nostrils flare. Travis points the rod at him. "You."
Percy doesn't have time to grin or quip. He yanks the rope down and wraps it between his hands. "Me."
Travis charges him with a roar. For his supposed talents, Travis always forecasted his strikes in a way that made him laughably easy to beat, but with the rod, all bets were off. Even Percy didn't know the full extent of its power, and he made sure to dodge any hit Travis sent his way. His wounds tire him, his limbs sluggish, but Percy's mind is still sharp and he uses that to his advantage.
Percy twists, pulling the rope tight across Travis's neck and pressing his back to Percy's chest. He knees Travis in the spine and he reflexively drops the rod. They both barely hear the clatter as they struggle with each other. Travis peddles his feet against the ground to buck Percy off, while Percy hands on for the ride. It was like being dragged behind a wild horse. A wild, very murderous, horse.
They bump into bed after bed, twisting and turning as all rules of combat fly out the window. Wood creaks and moans, then shatters in their attempts to gain the upper hand. The cabin is being destroyed.
Travis forces Percy to the ground by landing a jab in one of his wounds and he crumples with a strangled cry. Travis kicks Percy in the gut and pins him to the ground with his knees. His hands wrap around Percy's wrists.
"See?" Travis grins sickeningly. "You'll never win. You're nothing, Percy Jackson. You didn't deserve to survive—"
He doesn't get to finish as the bright gold glint of the rod swings into his head with a thud. Travis is flung to the far end of the cabin to reveal the purple-clad form of Flora.
Percy moves back in surprise. He'd never seen Flora fight, not really. Sparring was minimal and she rarely decided on a weapon she liked from the arsenal Natasha introduced her to, but as she stand there in the cabin, the rod seems like an extension of her arm. She vibrates with purpose, the snakes slithering down to touch her wrist in approval.
Look to the flowers, Jason had said. Percy blinks up at her. Look to the trees.
She gives Percy a curt nod and aims the rod at Travis as he lays in the crumbled heap of a set of bunk beds.
"You—" she starts, looking for all the world as if she wants to kill him. "You were the one. You took me. You killed my friends."
Travis huffs as he looks at the shards of wood embedded in his skin and fixes her with a glare. "It wasn't personal, trust me."
"Why me?" Flora says through tears. Her voice erupts next as a shout. "Why didn't you kill me too?"
And then, Travis begins to laugh. His cackle fills the empty air of the cabin as Percy looks on, a hand clutched against his stomach.
"Do you honestly think this was ever about you?" Travis sounds near delirious. "You were symbols, you were penance. The fact that you ended up being a daughter of Hermes was a stupid mistake. I don't kill my siblings."
Flora growls in frustration, raising the rod at him again. "But you did. You killed a Greek. His name was Topher. Did you know that?" Tears shimmer in her eyes. The rod wavers. "He was good, and he was kind. He gave me the last bite of his dessert, always. He was shit in a fight but great in a scrape, and I never let him forget it." Her voice hitches. "We grew up together, and you murdered him!"
Flora screams and launches herself at Topher and that is when Percy notices it. She has a shimmer about her, a rage in her eyes that he knew all too well. It wasn't as strong as when he and Jason would take it before missions or the team on the mountain before training, but it was there.
Flora had taken the elixir.
There had only been a third of the bottle left after he and Clarisse had taken it for the experiment, but it was enough to affect her. He knew if he didn't pull her out of it, she would never forgive herself.
He lurched to his feet, holding onto the edge of a ruined bed frame for support.
"Flora," Percy calls after her.
She has Travis pinned, his leg dangling uselessly as she prevents him from getting ahold of his weapons.
"Ishta."
Her head whips around to face him, rod still pointed at Travis's throat.
"Let him go." Percy approaches her slowly with his hands raised.
"What?" The look she gives him is almost enough to break his heart. "He killed them. He deserves to die."
"Yes," Percy nods. He winces as he aggravates one of his many injuries. "He does, but it doesn't have to be you. You don't have to carry that burden. Once you do, it's with you for the rest of your life. Believe me."
Part of the fight seems to go out of her. She opens her mouth to speak, but is distracted enough to give Travis an opening. He grabs the end of the rod and shoves her up against the wall with enough force that she doesn't get back up.
Percy turns his attention back to Travis and steels himself for another round of fighting.
"You don't have to do this, Travis," Percy says. "You never did. Let me help you."
Travis uses the rod to stand upright, one leg broken.
"Really? You're going to help me? How amazing coming from the great son of Poseidon." Travis laughs to himself. "Are you going to help me like you helped Drew? Or Katie? Like you helped Luke? Like you helped my brother?"
He hits a nerve and he knows it. Percy stumbles and Travis takes his opening.
He abandons the rod in favour of launching himself at Percy, hands outstretched to close around his neck. They tumble to the ground, Travis's leg crunching sickeningly with the force, and he leverages his weight over Percy despite his injuries. Percy tries to pry Travis's hands off of him, but the lack of air is making him weak.
"You killed him." Travis's grip is fierce on Percy's throat, tightening as much as Percy's hands will let him. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes. "The only thing I ever loved, and you killed him!"
Percy chokes, writhing in Travis's grasp as he fights for hair. He manages to gulp down a precious mouthful before Travis's rage gives him another burst of strength.
"Dad loved Mom so much, he came back to her and gave her Connor. Do you know how incredible that is? Do you know how special he was?" Tears streak down Travis's cheeks, either from rage or sadness. His voice is a dark rasp. "And now he's gone, all because of you. You pathetic waste."
"I— didn't. I didn't kill him," he manages to gasp out. Percy grunts and pulls at Travis's hands.
They lock eyes. Flickers of that day on the mountain come to mind, of the blade between Connor's ribs that stole his life away, and the hand that held it. Travis's mouth parts as his tears threaten to overtake him. Suddenly, the sorrow made sense; it all made sense. His voice is wretched when he speaks.
"I know." His breath shudders horribly. "I did."
The falter in Travis's grip is enough for Percy to gain the upper hand. He shoves at Travis, reaches for the dagger on his belt, and slides the blade between the same ribs as he did to Connor. Travis chokes, blood pooling into his lungs as the knife hits deep, and the fight goes out from his limbs.
"I'm sorry." Percy holds Travis in his arms as he scrabbles for purchase, trying to keep ahold of life even as he slips away. Tears slip from Percy's eyes, falling to mingle with Travis's. Panicked eyes find his and suddenly, Travis's hand grasps Percy's; not to kill him, but to hold on. To hold onto something as he goes. "I'm so sorry."
Travis chuckles again, dark and deep, blood bubbling up from his lips. He clutches at Percy's hand so tight that it goes white. "Fuck… you."
He goes limp a moment later, eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, hand still in Percy's. Travis Stoll was dead.
Percy didn't know whether to laugh or sob with the relief that washed over him. He loosens Travis's grip from his own and shoves the body off of him as he takes in deep breaths. The dagger clatters to the ground.
Flora becomes unstuck from where she was frozen against the bed frame, heraldic rod clasped in one hand. Blood streaks her forehead and her hands. She stands slightly, cautiously, and looks over the grisly scene. "Did he just use his final words to tell you to go fuck yourself?"
"Yeah," Percy starts to laugh, and soon he can't stop. "Yeah, he did."
—
They bury Travis Stoll on the hill.
There was some outcry over whether or not he would be allowed to be buried with a ceremonial shroud the way his brother had, and instead they decided on a plain, white piece of cloth, wrapped to obscure the face of a man both beloved and feared. Percy dug the grave himself, Clarisse sitting to the side and keeping watch over the body. She'd spent days cursing his name before solemnly returning to her position at camp without another word.
When they lowered him into the ground, neither of them shed a tear.
They didn't tell the others when his funeral was going to be; they didn't want naysayers as much as they didn't want mourners. It was for them and them alone: the last two survivors of the mountain.
"Where do you think he ended up?" Clarisse asks. Her head is titled to the side, eyes narrowed to ward off the omnipresent sun.
"I— I honestly don't know." Percy presses down on the small grave marker he'd made with a grunt of effort. "Asphodel, probably. I'd want to ask Nico, but…"
Clarisse shakes her head. "Yeah, I know."
Percy stands, brushing his hands off on his thighs as he steps back beside her. Clarisse's arm finds its way around his and they stand together, gazing at the small, unimportant mound with the small, unimportant sign.
Travis Stoll. Son of Hermes. Loving Brother.
They couldn't decide on what to inscribe when they chose to give Travis a headstone. Everything felt too ill-fitting when it came to his impact on camp, both good and bad— but there was one thing he always was; he never gave up on his brother. It was his fatal flaw.
Clarisse scuffs her shoe over one of the rocks that borders the grave and sighs. The wind ruffles the leaves above them. "We'll never come back from this, will we?"
Percy makes a thoughtful noise. "No, but we can move on."
A shout goes up from down the hill. Teams are assembling to play capture the flag, joyful insults being tossed across cabin lines. Clarisse looks at it with shining eyes. Percy looks at her.
He remembers their first fight, at a capture the flag game just like this one. They'd been adversaries as much as they'd been friends, and her force of personality had bowled him over better than any attack had. She had something to prove and, in a way, so did he. He remembers what it had felt like for them to be young and full of promise, but to only see the world as if it were ending.
He remembers, he remembers.
"C'mon." Percy steps ahead, offering his hand out to her. He indicates the game forming. "Let's join them."
Clarisse startles. "You don't think it's stupid?"
He shakes his head with a laugh. "No. I think it's the most human we'll ever be."
She takes his hand and they walk down the hill, away from Travis, away from the past, and towards a brand new beginning.