Song: Deep Sea Girl

Chapters referenced: 26, 38, 39, 40

Cabin 6 — Gods

OC (11) — Travis (8) — Connor (7)

July 2001

"What are the gods to you?"

Something she heard in passing on her way to her cabin. Who is Athena to her? A parent. Her mom. Someone she needs in her life. Someone she wants in her life. What else could they be? The person who gave her life, the person who made them not just a human, why is it wrong for her to strive for their attention?

"Because they don't care about you?" Luke tells her with a roll of his eyes, "Because you're just one in hundreds of their children. Because you're not special. And it's better that way, trust me. When the gods like you, that's when the trouble starts."

And Mikaela always shoots back, "But why do I have to be special to be loved? Is it not enough that I'm alive? I think you should consider yourself lucky your dad likes you so much, Luke."

This is where it always ends. Someone — either Lee or Karen — puts a stop to their bickering and they part ways on unfriendly grounds. Mikaela is sure this is where Annabeth's dislike of her stems from. She honestly can't see what her half-sister sees in Luke. He's obnoxious. He's irritating to be around. Everything he says is unkind. The gods don't care? How could he say that when Hermes practically makes time to see him or brings gifts for his birthday? None of his half-siblings get half the attention Luke does from his own father.

"You're such a know it all, Mikaela," Luke growls, "You don't know a single thing about me. Hermes ruined my life. The gods ruined my life. I'm lucky? You're the lucky one. It's a blessing to be ignored by the gods. I wish I could be you, but you're too dumb to see what you have."

"Then say that to your cabinmates. Say it to all their faces that it's amazing their mom and dad don't love them enough to even acknowledge them. You won't, will you? I had to beg my mom for recognition. I had to write a freaking research paper worthy enough to be published. Only then did she claim me! I did all that work and all you had to do was exist. All Annabeth had to do was exist to be claimed. How is that fair!?"

This is where it should end. Someone will stop them. They break apart and go do their daily camp activities. Then a couple days later, they fight again. And again someone will break it apart, not adding fire to the fuel but that's exactly what Karen did. Karen, the pacifist of the camp, the ditzy daughter of Aphrodite, one of the first to break their fights, steps in between them and says to her with a blank-face, "If you don't have to be special to be loved, why are you trying to prove yourself? Why all the clubs and trophies if being alive is enough?"

What does this tell you about the gods? Is what Karen is basically saying.

The tears come before she could stop it and she hates how Luke and Karen immediately shut up in shame. This isn't how she wanted the fight to end. She's not a crybaby. She's not a little kid. She can win her battles with words.

"Don't cry, Mikaela! I'm sorry. Don't cry," Karen starts, coming closer for a hug.

Mikaela shoves the hands away and scrubs the tears away with the heel of her palm.

"Why do I need a reason to love my mom? Why can't I just want a mom?" she says before walking away.

Why can't I have a relationship with her?

Why am I the one having to work for it?

Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Why am I trying so hard?

What's wrong with me?

Is Luke right?

Should I give up?

If I give up, will she even notice?

"Woah, you're really destroying that dough."

Her two amateurish tasters pipe up. She glances over at Travis and Connor, Luke's newest half-brothers, Annabeth's only friends. She doesn't particularly care for them. But they never mess with her either. Mutual indifference. That's all their relationship is. Mutual indifference and pastries. Without fail every time she's in the kitchen, they follow after her with stars in their eyes and plead for a bite of her baked goods. She relents when they tell her it looks delicious. Better it goes to them then Luke or Annabeth.

"I stress-bake. Sometimes I can't help it," Mikaela sighs, putting the dough down to rest. It's over kneaded at this point. Probably no good for the pie she was going to make. Not that she needed another pie. The two she already made sits at the counter along with the cheesecakes, cupcakes, and croissants she made earlier.

"Are you still angry with Luke?" one of the duo asks, the one that likes savory food more.

"No," she lies not out of kindness but out of necessity. The last time she vented to them, Chiron got on her case. Something about creating a 'divide'. It's so freaking stupid how everybody kisses the ground Luke walks on. Like he can do no wrong. Like he's absolutely perfect.

"Can you make more strawberry cheesecake please?" the other smiles toothily, the one that likes sweets more.

"Sure," she says, wanting to smile, wanting to feel the usual giddiness that comes with being thanked and noticed. ("Yay! You're the best, Mikaela!") But Karen's and Luke's words hog on her mind and all she feels right now is emptiness and fear.

"Hey, hey, Mikaela," Connor says, nibbling at a ham croissant and staring at her intently with eyes too sharp for his age. "What are the gods to you?"

Her heart stutters. She grips the dough too tightly. It draws the brothers' eyes to it and Mikaela forcibly relaxes her hands.

"My mom," she breathes out quickly and shifts her eyes away from their curious faces. "She's a mom to me and I want to talk to her. Is that wrong?"

"I don't think so," Travis says, casually, nonchalantly, still stuffing his face full of cake "I like my dad. I hope he hangs out with us too."

That's all Travis says. Simple and easy. All the reason he needs and Mikaela can breathe easy again. It doesn't matter if Connor side-eyes his brother for a moment before mirroring his smile, fake and plastic. She's not the only one to want validation. She's not alone in her sentiment.

"It's settled. You two are my favorite cousins," she announces with a grin. "When I die, I'll leave everything to you two."

"Leave what?

"One of my dreams is to own a Michelin Star Bakery. You can have all the assets."

"One of your dreams?"

"The others vary from walking on Venus to exploring the Mariana trench as well as one day getting married and having Athena walk me down the aisle."

Twin eyes stare at her without belief, but they don't trounce on her dreams either and that's all the support she needs. When she makes it big, she'll be the one with the last laugh.

To get there, she'll devote all she has. Community service, AP and IB classes, volleyball and soccer and swimming, she'll fill her portfolio with whatever she needs to get into a top college. She'll work on her faults, polish them until they're practically unnoticeable. She'll network and gain the resources to make her dreams a reality.

Mikaela turns 16 without any big acknowledgement from her mom. Not that she expected anything. But a card would have been nice. Maybe a proud "you did great" when she got accepted last year into UC Berkeley as a business and engineering double major and a minor in Greek culture and literature.

It's fine. Whatever. So she just has to try harder. Something bigger. Something that's near impossible to achieve. Luke hands her the answer in a form of a coup d'etat.

If she takes down the titan, then her mom has to praise her. Athena has to acknowledge her.

"You're hopelessly stupid, Mikaela," Luke tells her in a dream.

"You're stupid too," she tells him. "A war because of your daddy issues? Really, Luke?"

"This isn't just for me. It's for everybody. But I'm guessing this means you won't join my cause?" Luke drawls, rolling her eyes.

She swings her mace through Luke's body in response, the man's body disintegrating in dust.

This is her chance. This is all their chances. What better moment than this? Nothing can open the gods' eyes better than a revolution from their own children.

So why are the gods doing nothing?

Why has nothing changed?

Why are they still being ignored?

They're busy fighting, she reasons. But so are we. And we're lambasted if we forget to burn an offering during meals.

They're busy gathering support, she rationalizes to herself. But Luke is recruiting more and more demigods to his side. Doesn't it make sense to put a stop to that by finally being a parent?

You already dedicated so much of your life to Athena, if you stop now then what was it all for?

Then it will be for yourself.

She'll live her life for herself.

Not for Luke and his revenge. Not for Athena and her prosperity.

The day of Karen's funeral, she burns her bridges and turns her back on her friends and family.

Annabeth's eyes burn into the back of her head as she walks away.

Coward, a voice says.

But all she feels is freedom.

OC (20) — Travis (17)

January 2011

UC Berkeley Campus

She sees him while walking to her class. A quick glance at the boy with the baseball cap illegally skating towards her in the pedestrian only zone. Then a double take. Then another take and she's frozen solid on the spot as the boy comes closer and closer, yawning sleepily, rubbing an eye as he stares straight ahead, not seeing her like she sees him. She panics for the first time in a long time, unsure of what to do, hesitating before reaching out and hooking a hand on the passing arm.

"Travis?" she says fast, almost hoping she was imagining it, wishing it's really him, praying it's her mind playing tricks again.

"Huh?"

The baseball hat tips up and she could see his face entirely. Her heart falls and her grip on the arm loosen. No way is this Travis. Travis was the scrawny 13 year old boy filling shoes too big for him. Travis was the little boy who eats cake with his hands. Travis was the kid who's glued to his brother's side, unable and unwilling to do things for himself.

But the teenager standing on the skateboard before her smiles, wide and lopsided and familiar. The teenager has a beaded necklace — 10, she counts miserably and she recognizes half of them. The teenager is smiling wider, spinning towards her with inhuman speed, crushing her in a hug with inhuman strength.

"Mikaela! Holy cow, you're actually still alive!"

She smiles with her face hidden in the embrace, hugging him back with a light grip. She can't help the laugh bubbling out of her. It's been so long since she… she didn't think she would ever see… the possibility that any of them would have survived the…

Shut up. You abandoned them. You're lucky Travis didn't hit you, that voice says, born the day she walked away. She swallows and tries to pull away but her body refuses to move.

So she asks quietly, "Are you mad?"

Travis steps back and tilts his head to the side, smile no less dim. "Mad that you left? No way. I was just happy that you didn't join Luke."

No maliciousness. No white lie. No judgment. Travis tells her the truth with an earnest face. The weight from all those years lifts and she could breathe easy again, could laugh for real this time.

"You and Connor really are my favorite cousins."

"You really did open the bakery?"

"Yeah, I did. One of the best in the Bay Area. All the recipes came from yours truly," she proclaims proudly. They sit inside her bakery, beside the window that looks out into the busy streets. "But it's not Michelin star worthy yet. After I get my PhD, then I'll focus more on getting the star."

"Your PhD? We're gonna have to call you doctor now?"

"My students will. You guys can continue calling me Mikaela. Then after the Michelin Star, I'm going to strive for the NASA aerospace program. Venus is probably out of the question right now but walking on the moon seems doable. Maybe in the future when the tech is better, Venus can be an option."

"Woah. You're really doing it. No offense, but I thought you were all talk back then," Travis murmurs, taking a sip of the frappuccino she made for him earlier. He brightens at the flavor bursting in his mouth. "Mmmh! This is really good!"

She smiles in relief. Seems like Travis still has a sweet tooth. She's glad that hasn't changed.

"Enough about me," Mikaela says, rolling her own drink between her hands. "What about you? How did it all…um…" does she even deserve to know? At the time, it felt so right. She was so angry. But once she calmed down… once she stepped away for a week… it had been a mistake. But she hadn't known how to come back or how she could show her face. So you didn't, you coward. You just ran to the other side of the country and hid.

"How did the titan war end?" Travis finishes the sentence for her, sipping his drink some more. He hums in thought, putting the drink down to cross his arms. "Pretty nicely, actually. People died, but not as many compared to the other side. The gods won against the titans. Percy made them promise to claim their children when they turn 13 no matter what. We built a lot of cabins for the minor gods. Percy and Annabeth started dating. Then Gaea woke up and sent her Giant children after us. We almost had another civil war with the Romans. But managed to make up before any major casualties and now we trade resources back and forth. Oh! I'm actually a student at their university for demigods. I'm not doing too well though, haha. I'm actually struggling a lot without Connor. Let's see. What else, what else… we have a pet hellhound named Mrs. O'Leary."

Cabins for the minor gods? Gaea? Giants? The Romans? University? Annabeth is dating Percy? A lot has happened. She leans back on her seat, clenching the drink tight in her hands and picks the easiest point to start. "A pet hellhound, huh? I'm surprised Rowling hasn't killed it yet."

"Rowling is dead," Travis says blankly.

Oh.

"Lillith too. Lee died as well. Luke is also dead. Michael and Beckendorf and Silena are all gone too," Travis lists without much expression, staring apathetically at the drink in his hand. Mikaela swallows, mouth dry. A lot has happened. 'I'm sorry' doesn't even begin to cover it. 'I'll pay for your therapy' is too callous and cruel to say.

Travis forces a smile. "But Malcolm, Chris, and Clarisse. Katie and Miranda. Will. They're all alive. Connor too. The camp may basically be 90% new people but there's still people you'll recognize. You should come visit! Camp Jupiter too! You'll love it, Mikaela!"

Travis is trying desperately for normalcy. The least she can do is meet him halfway. Mikaela chuckles lowly, tracing inkless pictures on the counter with a finger. "I don't know, Travis. You might be okay with me, but I'm sure Annabeth hates my guts. I did leave everything to her." And she was just 13 years old too.

But I was 16. I shouldn't have to do it.

So you just left it to someone even younger?

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

"But you haven't talked to her, right?" Travis pleads with a desperate hitch. "You don't know for sure. Annabeth mellowed out a lot over the years. Who knows. She might have missed you."

Mellowed out? Mikaela's pretty sure the term is traumatized.

"Look, I'll even ask for you." Travis digs into a pocket and whips out a drachma and a bottle of water.

"Ah, no, it's alri—"

There's a shower of water and the coin is flipped inside.

Fuck.

Mikaela ducks under the table just as the message passes through. Travis pouts at her, even nudges her with his shoe, but she doesn't budge and he doesn't do more, sighing before turning to face what she guess is her half-sister's image.

"Annabeth!" Travis says cheerfully.

"Hey, Travis. What's up?" is Annabeth's curt response. Mikaela narrows her eyes. It's been years, but she's still positive she knows how an annoyed Annabeth sounds like. And this isn't annoyance. This is distance. This is coldness. This is how professionals who don't get along talk to each other.

"Do you remember Mikaela? Your half—"

"My half-sister who left because Athena wouldn't pay attention to her? Yeah, I remember her."

Ah. That's definitely malice in her voice. This is all she needs. Of course Annabeth hates her guts. Who wouldn't? She should have known better. Travis has always been an anomaly.

"R-Right," Travis stutters, twiddling his fingers nervously, "So hypothetically, let's say that you come across Mikaela again. Just randomly in the streets. Wouldn't it be cool—"

"I would ignore her. She made her choice when she abandoned all of us. I'll respect her wishes and keep my distance."

"Okay, but what if Mikaela is actually sorry—"

"Some things cannot be forgiven," Annabeth interrupts. Papers rustle and a book slams shut. "Sorry, Travis. If that's all you want to ask, I have to go. We can catch up later."

"Oh. Okay, see you arou—" The call ends abruptly and Travis sags. Mikaela crawls out from under the table, sitting back on the stool and taking her drink back in hand.

"So, uh, I guess she's still mad about that," Travis chuckles, not meeting her eyes. She nods slowly. It hurt a bit, hearing the hate in Annabeth's voice. But that's not what's more important.

"...Are you guys fighting?" Mikaela asks carefully. Annabeth always had a soft spot for Travis and Connor. To hear her sound so short and cold to them of all people, Mikaela didn't think it was possible.

Travis sighs and rubs the back of his neck in unease. "I guess so. We accused her of being the spy last year." Mikaela winces as she remembers doing the same for the two brothers. Good thing she never said it to their face. "And it really hurt her. We apologized afterwards, but I guess the damage was already done. We're not really on friendly terms anymore. I'm hopeful it'll change, but Connor thinks this is the end of our friendship."

"It probably is the end," she mumbles without thinking, wincing when Travis's face crumbles. "I'm sorry, Travis. But I just think, realistically, an accusation like that is relationship-ending and—"

"Why do I have to be realistic though?" Travis snaps, squeezing his drink until the lid pops off and explodes all over the counter. He whirls to face her, anguished and desperate. A hand clings to her wrist, tight and pleadingly. "Why can't I hope for the best? You and Connor and Annabeth are plenty pessimistic already. Why can't I dream?"

Hey, hey Mikaela, Connor had once asked her, what are the gods to you? My mom. She's a mom to me and I want to talk to her. Is that wrong? Is what she answered with and Travis kept that dream afloat with his words of validation. Would it have been better if Travis had crushed her dreams instead? Could her 11 year old self really forward without that dream?

"So many of my friends are dead," Travis chokes out, head lowering, "And the ones that are still alive aren't the same anymore. I know I had it easy compared to Percy and Annabeth. They literally carried the world on their back. I never had to do anything like that. And camp today is so much better than what it used to be. Leagues better. I'm so thankful to Percy, but I can't stop thinking — I can't stop missing the way things were before.

I miss the Luke that brings us cake. I miss the Lee that only thinks about music. I miss the Annabeth that entertains every stupid thing we want to do. Beckendorf and how he gets so excited about his inventions. Michael and how he gets so fired up. Silena and her passion for others. Chris when he wasn't such a people pleaser. Percy when he used to joke around.

And I miss the Connor that remembered how to have fun. I miss the Connor before the war. I miss Connor back when he was actually happy, back when he wasn't so scared of making friends, when he wasn't terrified of sleeping. I miss my brother. Is it really wrong of me to want those days back, to think those days could come back?"

Travis long since stopped talking to her. Those words were meant for somebody else. But she answers like it was for her.

"No. It's not wrong," she admits and Travis's head raises. She smiles at him softly. "I think it would be nice actually. A picnic with Malcolm. Getting to meet all my half-siblings. Telling old stories about Lee, Karen, Lillith, and Rowling. Hanging out with Annabeth one day as sisters. Baking for you and Connor again. All of that would be nice."

Even if those years she spent toiling for her mother's attention were in vain, they weren't meaningless.

"It's a rather nice dream to have. I wouldn't mind helping it come true," Mikaela assents.

Travis's eyes brighten. "You mean you'll—"

She nods. "I'll visit Camp Half Blood and this Camp Jupiter. I was scared that…that nobody would…that—" she smiles bitterly. She can't even say it outloud. "Well, I won't know unless I try, right?"

Mikaela watches Travis whoop and cheer with a fond smile, even as her heart beats with dread.

"You're the best, Mikaela," Travis tells her with a warm grin, a genuine grin, the smile he gave her back when she was 11 and they were 8 and 7, eating cakes and croissants.

"Well, you and Connor are my favorite cousins. It's the least I could do."

Author's note:

Thanks for reading!

I'm done posting now lol

it's back to my usual 3 to 11 months long updates.