Flynn: Silenced IV

Oh, My Wonderous Flynn,

I miss you.

She hates you.

Hates when I talk about you. Fear wracks me each time I incur her iced envy, fear that she'll eat my dreams and inhale my memories—more—she's already has

Sweet as poisoned honey, kind as Rohypnol before the trauma, patient and methodical as a farmer gavaging a goose to rupture its liver for consumption. [footnote 1] Ever present. As a child, to think how I sang jubilation to the omnipresent, encompassing God, one that coddled and defended the innocent from the sadism of the universe. And now, to be tormented with true omnipresence and true circumscription: her eyes ever-watching, her hands ever-touching, her mouth ever-murmuring those lascivious slither of suggestions.

Oh, Flynn, my love, Flynn.

I fear

I hate her. She desired my love so violently that she earned my ire.

She's coming.

And the message cut off. The handwriting was unmistakably Jack's. No one would dare to call her, "my love" or "my wondrous" other than Jack. She'd made sure to that.

There was poetic scribbling in the corners, tucked into the other side of the crumpled, folded paper:

Like a full body straight jacket. You grant me my sanity and take away my freedom, my voice—what sick torture is this?

Flynn trembled at the pit in her stomach. The paper shook so much that she was shocked Prometheus could read it. "Who," she said, her voice hardly above a growl, "is he talking about?"

Prometheus leaned over her extended hand, skimming. His grey eyes went from glazed disinterest to surprised concern. "Oh, I did not foresee this… I would have thought it would be Luke or Axel or, even, Lucille…"

He and the other titans hadn't rested much recently. Flynn had seen to it: no one rested while Jack was missing. She'd killed several Romans in a rage-fit while interrogating them. All maritime troops were scouring the oceans for any sign of Jack even… even if that sign was a corpse.

Then this. Pontus, the Titan of the Sea, drifted the bottled letter to the only recruit who wouldn't think it was a trick. Pax had run shrieking to Axel and Flynn had intercepted him.

Since the ambush on Alabaster's laboratory, Flynn had learned that Jack wasn't helpless, that they could burn the world together with his angelic song as their theme. He could still accidentally make an ice cream pallor look like the end of MacBeth if left unattended. But, he wasn't prone to becoming a damsel, not the way this note detailed. Other than the moments he broke down murdering Apollo's children and the moments after Thalia pushed Luke off a cliff, she'd never heard him spew such hatred.

After weeks of sleepless nights—of punching Jack's bed banisters until she crumbled to tears or until Pax came in to hug her, of Luke surfacing out of Kronos to panic over his friend—this was the first message they received and it was a distress call.

Flynn would destroy whoever hurt him. Kind as Rohypnol before the trauma. Nausea, so deeply repressed she could only feel it as a rock in her abdomen, resurfaced. She thought about her uncle, and the day she discovered she could use words and actions on him the same way he'd used words and actions to teach her the casualness of violence.

"None of your dramatics. Who is it?" she snarled. The lack of sleep and constant tension had frayed her patience.

"Calm now, Flynn. I believe he's referencing…" Prometheus frowned. He brushed some invisible lint off his tuxedo. He and Morpheus had gotten into a competition to be the most stylish in Camp Othrys, much to Krios' delight and Kronos' irritation. "Yes, my niece. Calypso."

"Your niece? A titaness? Where can I find her?"

"It's not that simple, Flynn. Mortals can't just go there. Demigods can't just go there—"

"Then make it that simple." There were few things Flynn cared about in this world: Jack and her Nǎinai. One would die without the other, as Nǎinai's health had already deteriorated over the weeks without Jack's healing song.

Before Prometheus could do more than deepen his frown, someone squeaked from the doorway. The Titan's lodging had walls made of black marble and obsidian. A bustling of twisted hair poked out from around the dark stone. The electric wall torch glinted off a yellow eye. (Titans didn't like modern technology, but Matthias was determined to update their archaic preferences, usually with occasional explosions of glitter.)

Someone gently encouraged Pax forward. He, Axel, Lucille, and Luke stepped into the room. Axel wore his Maya war paint and a Greek breastplate. Ever since the ambush, Pax had gathered darts to tack onto a Batbelt, as he called it. That and the massive black jacket—that apparently some hobo had traded for Pax's new winter jacket, convincing Pax he'd look more menacing—made him look ready for a stealth mission. Lucille, herself, looked like the glass figurine of a war goddess. Her blonde hair was pulled into a perfect bun and her leather armor made her look smaller rather than larger.

The ballerina was an unlikely warrior, but Flynn knew her ferocity in battle. Their combined charm speak could probably convince Zeus to slice off his own gonads—an excellent hypothesis that both of them wanted to test. Maybe, if they tossed those into the ocean, they'd get a love goddess that wasn't as shitty as their mother. [footnote 2]

"We want to help," Lucille said. "Pax said you got word from Jack. A cry for help."

"One that didn't rhyme. That's the scary part," Pax mumbled.

"Ajax," Axel said.

"What? He made our chore list rhyme and in iambic pentameter just to show me what it was!"

"Focus." Axel jammed his hands into his nonexistent pockets, frowned, and folded his hands over his biceps. "We need to get Jack back—"

"—ha. Ha. Jack Back…. I miss him," Pax said, "What kind of a band would we be without a lead singer?"

Luke, sweat-soaked and shaking, nodded at the back of the group. He scowled at Flynn. Without Jack around, Luke viewed her as an unhinged liability. There was something only she could give him: bouts of sanity. Flynn could charmspeak Kronos into a slumber. The fear for his best friend had given Luke a renewed surge to fight Kronos off. "He's important to the camp. Moral has crashed and they started throwing goats during the monster meditation sessions. And not in the happy way."

Typically, Flynn preferred working alone. Seeing her "sons," her actual half-sister, and their shitbag leader brought her some comfort. Even if this Calypso could somehow stop Flynn, she probably couldn't stop the group of them.

Flynn tapped her fingers along the blades she kept in her hair. Pax was still too gentle for this. As he'd grown, he reminded her more and more of Jack's tenderness. She and Jack were so proud that Pax tried to hang someone with a cable during the ambush. Pity the cable must have broken. She and Jack took Pax and Axel to the circus and for ice cream as a private celebration away from the party, but neither boy seemed festive at the massacre.

Luke's shaky scowl slipped to Prometheus. This was distinctly Luke. If it was Kronos, he wouldn't have cared about Jack. She could further tell from the way his cheek twitched—likely from biting it. One of the nights she'd decided to puppet Luke as a toy, she'd discovered the deep scars on the inside of his mouth. "How do we get him? I—I can't go, but I want this handled." They knew he could slip any moment. No point starting an operation only to have Kronos cancel it.

Prometheus sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Calypso is not… she is not a battle to be fought. A chess master who has lacked a proper contender for centuries? Yes. Convincing her to surrender someone is like convincing a gardener to part with their prized flower. And, she can be very convincing."

"So can we," Lucille said. She hesitated a hand over Flynn's shoulder. Instead of patting it, she gave Flynn a thumbs up. Flynn both appreciated the gesture and Lucille's restraint from actually touching her.

"Lucille is right. Between the two of us, she can't say no, titaness or not," Flynn said, and, oh, was she crafting a creative list of ideas for Calypso.

Prometheus shook his head. "It would be unwise to attack her head on or to attempt charm speak her on her own island. The best route would be for me to go alone."

The room deflated. Axel's shoulder sagged. Pax's lower lip trembled.

Lucille frowned. "Is she a charm speaker?"

Prometheus considered this question. "She has a way with words. Her island is her magical fortress. Even I don't know exactly how things work there. But, she has respected orders from the gods before and she is Atlas' daughter—"

"So was that bitch, Zoe," Flynn growled. The prophecy Selena supplied them, about a child dying by her father's hand, was supposed to apply to Chiron dying at Kronos' hand, not to Zoe. Her death meant far less to them, other than proving to Luke that Thalia was fully brainwashed by the gods. The titans should know that familial connections meant nothing in the Greek world.

Prometheus opened his mouth for more words—words that Flynn didn't trust to lead to action. Fortunately, Luke cut him off. He pointed to Flynn. "Take her. She's the strongest out of all of u—out of them. In the event that your crafty counsel goes poorly, she is the best back up." Luke glared. "That's an order, Prometheus."

And, Flynn knew how much Titans enjoyed orders.

Prometheus didn't protest, as Krios of Hyperion would have. He stared through Luke, his eyes hollow with the ambience of omnipotence. "Very well." Before Lucille, Pax, or Axel could counter the decision, he hovered a hand above Flynn's shoulder.

She closed her eyes a heartbeat before the room vibrated and radiated into something her mind couldn't process. Others had survived witnessing the Titan's mode of travel, but Matthias said he'd never have Taco Bell again afterwards. Hopefully Lucille and the boys had shut their eyes in time. Even behind closed eyes, the light's brilliance made the darkness of nothing tinted red.

As they disintegrated, Flynn considered their opponent: one of Atlas' daughters. Atlas himself had been underwhelming, but Flynn didn't like to underestimate an adversary. She preferred to hit hard and fast, so she didn't need to ask or answer questions later.

The brilliance outside dimmed from blistering red to reasonable warmth. A breeze cradled her chin. The charm at the end of her hair blades swayed, gently tugging at her bun. Everything smelled salty and fresh.

Water soaked through her shoes and into the ends of her jeans. Her heart leapt at the melancholic strum of a guitar.

Flynn opened her eyes to a blinding paradise island: rolling meadows, a beach, a cavern off in the distance.

And, there he was.

"Flynn," Prometheus warned.

The music stopped. The makeshift guitar dropped silently into the sand, leaving the island with nothing but the rhythmic flush of the water.

Everything else blurred to nothing.

His messy, red flag of hair had been trimmed down, much shorter than he preferred. He wore all white—a color Jack despised. He ran towards them, waving his hands, uncannily silent. Other than when he slept, Flynn had never heard him this quiet. Flynn didn't plan to see Jack first. Her legs responded with a lack of discipline that made the stagiest in her scream with alarm. This could have been a trap. This could have—

Jack jerked to a violent stop, his feet slipping out from under him. Flynn snatched out her hair blades. He might have been shot in the back or, in a more comically, invisibly clotheslined. Before Flynn could stop her momentum and duck for cover, she saw what kept him silenced.

There was a thin white collar around his neck. The material ran taut back inland. His ragged breath choked on a similarly silky white gag. Tears streamed down to soak the fabric. He grabbed at her with the desperation of a drowning victim, floundering against his leash. His eyes bulged and his brow furrowed with the noiseless sobs.

This was how you disarmed a child of Apollo.

Flynn dropped to her knees beside Jack. She slashed a stiletto through his leash. As the blade cut, the strings rewove themselves, like she'd been trying to cut light.

"Release him," she snarled, jamming her stilettos back into her hair.

The fabric exploded into frays. The leash thinned and warped until the material could no longer stand the tension Jack exerted onto it.

Jack flopped forward against her. This close, the contrast of white fabric and bruised skin was stark. Considering how rapidly Jack normally healed, he must have been twisting and struggling against the binding recently. The sight of him, sobbing into her shoulder, quenched her stomach with a nauseating rage. The way he gripped at her, like she too could dissolve into sand, the way he pressed his gagged mouth to hers—

She dug her nails into the fabric between his lips. "Release him."

It exploded off, revealing red imprints in his skin. His mouth moved to repeat her name with each breath, with each kiss, with each vibration of a sob. There was no noise other than the rustling of his skin against hers. Too quiet. No vocalization or humming.

He smelled different: a perfect harmony of salt water and flowers and spices. Probably like Calypso.

Less gentle than she wanted, Flynn grabbed Jack's shoulders to shove him back. "What's wrong with your voice?"

He froze. Jack swallowed, more tears streaming down his cheeks. Rolling onto his side, he dragged his finger along the sand.

He drew a stick figure torso atop that stupid Jesus Fish symbol that was on all the cars in her and Jack's little Baptist town. A mermaid. She might not have understood the reference had Jack not forced her to watch The Little Mermaid so they could have matching Halloween costumes. Jack got to be a redheaded merman and she got to be a mariner that disemboweled a sea witch with a ship's figurehead. Acceptable and potentially very relevant.

"A sea witch stole your voice?" she asked, begrudgingly happy that he orchestrated a family day for them to play charades. It might come in more combat handy than she could have predicted.

"A sea witch that is currently present."

Flynn hadn't forgotten Prometheus, but Jack startled and cowered against her as the Titan settled a large hand on either of their shoulders. Likely to comfort Jack and to restrain her.

A woman stood along the beach. Her delicate hands covered her mouth in disbelief. Tears streaked her face. Flynn knew not to trust that glow of innocence. The most dangerous people in the world thought they were doing something that was moral. Morality and ethics gave people righteousness, the ability to feel justified in subverting others.

Flynn needed no such excuses.

"Wait," Prometheus breathed. "Calypso," he greeted, "Dear me. A leash? A gag? Cousin, what is this?"

Her hands shook. Her almond-colored eyes were crestfallen as she reached out towards Jack to trace his face in the air.

Jack flinched. His breath turned to panicked panting.

"Prometheus—no—if you're here… and you brought her…" With her hair braid tucked to the side and her white dress fluttering in the island breeze, she looked like a forlorn Southern belle. Calypso's lip quivered. "Are the titans no more merciful than the gods? Do they have such jealousy when a goddess takes a mortal bedfellow? Will you deprive me of him how Artemis stole Orion from Eos? Or how they robbed Demeter?"

The rage spread from inside Flynn's stomach into her chest. That was the angle she was taking.

Prometheus released Jack to rub his forehead. "Calypso, you didn't tie and gag Odysseus, Columbus, Doris Miller, or any of the other dozens of men you've had here."

She clenched one fist. "He… he kept trying to swim out to sea, and it kept making him ill, so I had to keep him tether to the shore unless I was there as escort. And, he threatened to make me sick with his voice, to use as leverage to let him go. His voice is powerful. He managed to sing through some of my weaving. I needed double assurance—I know his fate! He's safer here. He'll be better off here. If only he knew, he'd agree."

"I tire of this parley, Prometheus," Flynn growled. She was experiencing one of the few hesitations she had: indecision on how to mutilate your enemy. Prometheus's grip tightened on her shoulder. When they returned to Mount Othrys, she'd have to remind him why no one but Jack and Pax were allowed to touch her.

"Calypso, you are no decreer of the Fates, and, by Zeus' order, no lover of yours will remain here forever. Do you want Kronos, after his rise to power, to make your fate a worse one?" Although Prometheus gave no physical indication, the threat lay heavy on his words. "You are holding his host's best friend as prisoner."

Calypso's expression contorted, though Flynn couldn't tell if it was from fear or rage. Her gaze flicked to the trembling mass in Flynn's arms.

"You will be cursed, Jack," she cried, "You will both know the torment of the Fields of Punishment and you will know the curse of dismembered immortality. If you stay here, you'll avoid both fates. You, Prometheus, of all titans, should know that is not an offer to be taken lightly!"

Prometheus' grip slackened.

Jack's shudders turned violent.

Flynn refused to risk Prometheus sympathizing with this sea witch. First, she would rid Calypso of her tongue, as she had deprived Jack of his voice. Flynn opened her mouth to speak.

"I will transport you back, without Jack, if you say a word," Prometheus said softly into her ear.

Flynn scowled up at him, tightening her hold on Jack.

Prometheus wasn't looking at her. He'd straightened, gaze set on Calypso. "Calypso, you must promise to detain no more heroes like this. If not, when the titans win the war, I'll assure no more companions are sent and you are forgotten. Do not harm my humans like this again. They may only stay off their own volition. If they should choose to leave, let them leave of their own free will. And for Kronos' sake, provide them a raft, in case you get any more dinky heroes like Jack."

Calypso stood eerily still. With the sunrays and sway of trees behind her, she could have been a mirage. Her sobs quieted. Her fists clenched. She closed her eyes, perfect skin temporarily wrinkled with consternation. After an exhale, she relaxed her fingers and opened her eyes. She withdrew a thick thread from her collar, one that matched the red of Jack's hair. "Is he not frail because he is ill?" she asked, softly, while snapping the thread in half.

Jack's next inhale came with a throaty whimper. He withdrew from Flynn, his eyes wide with alarm. The son of Apollo twisted to face Calypso, snarling, "No, you judgmental bitch, I'm just gangly! You stained-glass gas chamber! You—you—!" His voice cracked, hoarse from disuse.

Prometheus shushed him. "While an apt description, I doubt Calypso knows what a gas chamber is."

There were a countable number of times that Flynn heard Jack swear and never so fluidly. He normally stumbled over them with the robotic stammer of a grandparent using modern slang.

Tears streamed down Calypso's cheeks anew. A sob rose with each breath. She refused to look at Jack, keeping her gaze level with Prometheus. As though Jack hadn't said anything, she demanded, "I will agree to your terms, but only after I have known their love! I'll let them leave, I'll give them a raft, but only after I love them and they love me in return."

"Paralytic spider dressed as a Whore of Babylon—!" although hoarse and quiet, Jack's voice picked up a tune. He was trying to sing.

Prometheus pressed a hand over his mouth.

With Jack's weakened condition, Flynn wondered if he and she could overpower Prometheus to kill this brat.

"Fine! Fine!" Prometheus said. His impatience made Flynn think they could. "After you've—ow! Jack."

From the way Prometheus jerked his hand back and Jack twisted away from him, more into Flynn, Jack must have bitten him. "Do not steal my voice from me," Jack hissed. He nuzzled into Flynn's chest. "Don't let them take my voice from me again." This time, he was begging her.

Flynn's scowl deepened.

"Just a few more minutes." Prometheus looked hurt. For being a titan of forethought, Flynn wanted to snarl at him for his thoughtlessness. They didn't know how long Jack had been gagged. She wondered if Jack would struggle with being shushed.

The titan raised his gaze back to Calypso. "Agreed—after you've known their love. But then you better give them a route to leave. All we need is Luke showing up here and being too stupid to build a boat and it ruining our whole war effort."

"If she was dead, we wouldn't need to worry about it," Flynn said, expecting Prometheus to try silencing her. Had he tried, she would have done more than bitten him. She knew he could regrow limbs.

Calypso fully acknowledged Flynn for the first time, examining her. There were two typical reactions Flynn received from onlookers. Either people noticed her curves first and scanned up in anticipation only to spot her face with horror, or they saw the withered, burned disfigurement of her face and nothing else. Calypso was different. She took in Flynn's deformities with disgust and slowly worked her way down, surveying her clothing and her body.

"Mangled, barren Flynn," she whispered, "who provides him neither marriage nor child. Neither loyalty nor warmth."

Flynn had no interest exchanging pettiness. She never hid any of this from Jack and had hardened any self-hatred or shame she had into weapons instead of vulnerabilities. Before Flynn could utilize them, Jack snarled, "Be silent, you queen of thieves—no—no—that's too cool a title for you! You Distributor of Asphyxiation! How dare you speak to her."

Although his hands still clenched her, Jack stood up straighter and drew his shoulders back. When he scowled at Calypso, his eyes seemed clearer and his focus direct. Flynn wondered how long ago he'd run out of medication. "Don't kill her, Flynn," Jack said, "She's just a fucked up, miserable soul. She'll be sadder alive."

Calypso covered her mouth again, choking on more sobs.

"No one is killing anyone," Prometheus said, "Calypso, do we have a deal?"

The lady of Ogygia refused to look at them. She waved a hand in answer as though she could erase their presence off the island.

Flynn couldn't tell if it was Calypso's will or Prometheus' that altered reality. She wasn't even sure if she lucked into blinking at the right time or if she held her eyes closed out of reflex against the brilliant light.

All she knew was that Jack was home.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! One more instillation of the Silenced series! Thank those of you for still reading despite my Covid hiatus. I hope you're all doing well and you and your families are safe!

Footnotes:

1 If this sounds horrifying, don't look up Fouie Gras.

2 I still can't get over that Aphrodite was born from Kronos' castrated dick. Do you think that's part of Luke's plan? To capture Aphrodite and demand his dick back?