Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians

This fic would not have existed without the encouragement of Stereden, who has also done a podfic of it, which can be found in its AO3 crosspost /works/57201739 or on my tumblr tsarisfanfiction!

"Kayla really likes Michael, doesn't she?" Lee commented as he watched them fly away. Beside him, Clarisse snorted.

"She's his fucking shadow," she said. "Don't ask me what she sees in him but she latched on the day she arrived and he hasn't run her off yet."

That meant that Michael liked her, too, Lee surmised. Good.

"You've got a new shadow, too," Clarisse added, and Lee winced.

"I know," he sighed. "His mom got killed when he was taken, and then everything that happened since… I'm going to have to bug Chiron to set up therapy for him."

"Not just him," Clarisse said, and even without looking at her, Lee could feel her eyes on the side of his head. Lee deflated.

"I need to get through this war before I start thinking about that," he admitted. "It's been a rough year."

She snorted. "That's a fucking understatement," she said. "Just call it a fucking shit year." Lee grimaced, but couldn't argue the sentiment.

"So, what's the story with Chris?" he asked, changing the subject. "He seems to have his sanity back."

"In more ways than one," Clarisse grumbled, but it was fond. "Short answer is Mr D. He didn't say why he did it, but he came back just after the battle and decided to snap his fingers and fix his mind." It almost seemed unfair, that they'd spent so long working with Chris, healing his physical body and doing everything they could possibly think of to heal his mind, only for a god to swan in and fix it all with a snap of his fingers.

But that was the power of the gods, and Mr D had never been Lee's favourite god – of course not, that was and would always be Apollo – but he had always been reasonable enough about blocking Lee's power so he didn't get a migraine every time the god spoke, and despite his grumbles and general dismissiveness, camp always felt safer when the god was around.

It certainly helped boost their morale, too, if a god was willing to heal one of their own.

"And he's not gone back to Kronos," Lee observed.

Clarisse shook his head. "He still doesn't like the gods," she said. "Hermes finally fucking claimed him, but he doesn't give a shit, now. Too little, too late. But Kronos sent him on a suicide mission, and we saved him. The gods don't have Chris' loyalty, and they probably never will, but the people he attributes to saving him? They do."

"You do," Lee translated, and she gave him a sideways glance, like she thought he was stupid.

"I'm not the one that saved him," she said. "I pulled him out of that hell, but I'm not a healer, Lee. I don't fix shit."

"Pulling him out of that hell sounds like saving him to me," Lee pointed out. She shrugged.

"Whatever. We're dating now, anyway."

Good news was something that had been sorely lacking from Lee's life recently, even the positive things coming with a tinge of negativity – siblings still alive, but badly injured, or traumatised, or both.

This was different. This wasn't to do with the war, didn't have a sting in the tail to leave a bad taste as it sank in. Lee smiled, and it felt genuine. "I'm glad for you," he said, and he whole-heartedly meant it.

Clarisse scoffed, but her cheeks went a little pink. "It's not a big deal," she said, but it had the prickle of a small lie in it. Lee didn't mind; those were the lies he was always happy to let slide, small white things that didn't hurt anyone. If Clarisse wanted to pretend she didn't think it was something to shout from the rooftops, then Lee wouldn't push her about it.

"It doesn't have to be," he said, instead. "I'm still happy to hear about it."

Her face went a little redder again, and she picked up her spear from where Chris had left it.

"Sit down before you fall down," she ordered. "Keep the bastard company or something, and yell if you're attacked." She plucked a knife from her belt and put it on the asphalt, next to where Michael was laying.

His brother had yet to stir, and Lee knew that theoretically he'd taken a serious injury and would remain unconscious for some time, but that didn't make him any happier to see it.

Clarisse tapped her foot impatiently, and Lee sank to the ground next to the knife, his fingers finding Michael's wrist and feeling the steady rhythmic thud of his pulse through it, assuring him that his brother was still alive, even if he looked far too still and pale.

He mostly watched Clarisse as she stalked around, patrolling the area as though she was on watch – she clearly was – and periodically bending down to pick something or other up from the ground.

Once, she came back towards him, a bow in her hands. Sturdier than it looked, it was still intact despite being thrown across the bridge when its owner was hit, and Lee knew that Michael would hate the knowledge that Clarisse, of all people, had retrieved it for him.

Whatever was going on with their latest argument was something Lee wasn't going to touch if he didn't have to. It seemed complicated, with the other campers seemingly involved, and Clarisse staying out of a war because of it, only to come when Lee told her Michael was down. Now she was retrieving his weapons – not just his bow, but she also had a cluster of arrows stuck through her belt, most of them crooked and of no immediate use, but still possible to repair, or reuse the heads if nothing else.

For a melee warrior who personally hated ranged weapons, especially bows, Clarisse knew more about them and their ammunition than she usually let on. Lee suspected that was because of her long-time rivalry with Michael, who of course used almost nothing except bows.

It didn't take Chris long to return, the distance from the bridge to the Plaza Hotel seemingly not all that long, especially by flying chariot. Lee dragged himself to his feet again as it came into land, the pegasi throwing their heads in protest – whether that was because of the short journey, or because they were fed up and wanted a rest, Lee didn't know. He'd never been fantastic with the pegasi.

That had been Silena's wheelhouse, when Percy wasn't around to apparently speak Horse. Lee didn't plan on asking Silena for help with anything again.

"One chariot load of Apollo kids safely delivered," Chris reported, jumping down. Clarisse finished her latest loop of their area and walked towards them, leaving them a cluster around the still-unconscious Michael. "One more to go."

Lee moved to pick up his brother, aware that his arms were shaking a little but Michael didn't weigh much and-

Clarisse shoulder-checked him out of the way and he almost stumbled. "I've got him," she said. "You'll drop him."

There were many things Lee never expected to see in his life. Clarisse la Rue dropping to one knee next to Michael Yew and slowly pulling him into her arms, clearly mindful of his broken ribs, was one of them.

Not that Lee didn't appreciate it, but it felt bizarre, like he hadn't just escaped from Kronos, but also left that entire universe and ended up in a parallel one as Clarisse stood back up, Michael in her arms as though the two of them didn't go for the metaphorical – and sometimes literal – throat whenever they were in each other's vicinity.

Maybe Lee did want the details on what exactly was going on with their latest argument, after all.

She carried Michael to the chariot and set him down on the floor of it, gently enough that the broken ribs wouldn't re-puncture his lungs, before disembarking again to collect his bow, her knife from where Lee had left it, and more of the gathered, potentially salvageable, arrows.

Next to him, Chris gave him a small nudge. "You're coming too," he said. "Your siblings are waiting rather impatiently, last I saw."

"How are they?" Lee asked, and the older demigod shrugged.

"How is anyone right now?" he returned. "Tris and Kayla are particularly impatient for you and Michael, respectively, but none of them are going to settle until you're both back with them. Even Will's still awake, although he looks like he should have gone to sleep ages ago."

Lee wished he was surprised, but it was just like Will to exhibit his stubbornness when it didn't benefit his health at all – even if he did understand the desire behind it. He sighed.

"I should have expected that," he said, finally taking a step towards the chariot. He stumbled, this time badly enough for his balance to vanish on him as his foot stubbed against some uneven debris from the bridge's destruction, and braced himself for the painful fall.

Arms caught him, warm and strong and supportive, but not restraining. He gasped, blinking at the ground below him, which had suddenly stopped coming closer.

"Easy, there," Chris said. "I've got you."

Slowly, Lee pulled his head up to look at the other boy. Chris was looking at him in open concern, and his arms didn't make any move to release him; that was probably a good thing, given he was holding up most of Lee's weight. Lee tried to force himself upright again, and while Chris let him, he still didn't let go of him, either. Instead, he supported him, still bracing Lee's weight.

"Would it be better if I carried you, too?" Chris asked, sending a glance down at Lee's feet, but Lee shook his head.

"I can walk," he insisted. He wanted to walk, even if his feet were sore and his ankles were starting to complain at the amount of standing and walking and motorbike-riding he'd asked of them in the past few hours. Chris sighed.

"Okay," he said, "but at least let me help you. You're dead on your feet." He gently pulled one of Lee's arms across his shoulders, his spare hand wrapping around his waist.

Lee recognised the compromise for what it was and gingerly let Chris take more of his weight again, leaning on him perhaps more heavily than he'd planned to. Maybe it was because he'd lost a lot of weight, but Chris didn't show any sign of struggling.

"Thanks," he murmured. Chris' grip on his wrist squeezed lightly, fingers just about reaching Lee's pulse point.

"Don't mention it," he said as they started to make their way slowly towards where Clarisse waited for them inside the chariot, still impossibly standing next to Michael without trying to kill him. "Besides, this is the least I can do for you. Clarisse told me how hard you worked to try and heal me."

Lee faltered, missing a step and swaying slightly as he remembered what Clarisse had said, about Chris' loyalty and the people he thought he owed. Chris paused, steadying him with gentle but firm hands.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Lee said once his feet were tentatively under him again. Chris shook his head.

"Don't be," he said. "You did plenty. If it wasn't for you, I'd have died of my injuries long before Mr D. came back to heal my mind."

"Someone else could-"

"But they didn't," Chris interrupted him. "It was you , Lee, and I'm so glad you're not actually dead, because that means I can actually thank you for it."

Lee gave a small smile. "I'm glad your mind is back," he said, sincerely. "I also hear congratulations are in order."

Chris chuckled. "I should never have left her in the first place," he said. "I'm lucky she wanted anything to do with me ever again after that."

"I understand why you left," Lee admitted. "While I was there, I saw several demigods, and I didn't understand most of their reasons. I still don't understand Luke's, and I definitely don't understand Silena's. But I understand yours."

"Even if you don't agree?" Chris asked, a little ruefully. "I mean, in hindsight it seems pretty stupid to me. Maybe the gods are assholes and my dad forgot I existed even though I lived in his cabin for years, or just ignored me until he got scared and gave me a pity claim too late, but Kronos isn't going to be any better. I should have stuck with the people, instead."

"You came back," Lee said. "If there's one thing I can agree with, it's that. You didn't leave again, when you had the chance."

"I learned my lesson," Chris shrugged. "A bit late, but I learned it."

"But not too late," Clarisse said, reaching out a hand from where she was stood in the chariot. "Get in."

Lee probably didn't need the help up, into the chariot, but an offer of assistance from Clarisse was rare enough to mean something, so not for the first time that morning, he accepted her hand and let her pull him up. This time, Chris also supported him from behind, nudging him in gently.

"Sit," Clarisse ordered, pointing to the floor next to Michael. "Your job is to make sure he doesn't fall out." He wouldn't, not with Chris and Clarisse both standing between him and the back of the chariot, but Lee wasn't going to argue.

It was easier to sit than stand, anyway, and if his fingers once again sought his brother's pulse, then no-one was calling him out on it.

Clarisse took the reins, and Chris stood at her shoulder, although he kept glancing down at Lee and Michael, as though to reassure himself that they were both there. A single snap of the reins and a barked word had the pegasi leaping into the air, leaving the broken and burning bridge behind them, and Lee's grip on Michael's wrist tightened as they kept going up, not because he feared his brother falling out, but because he was the easiest thing to hold onto.

The flight didn't take long. Lee knew it wasn't too far, it couldn't have been, based on how little time it had taken Chris to take his siblings and come back, but as Clarisse directed the pegasi to start flying lower again, his stomach rose up towards his throat, and not just because of the change in altitude.

Presumably, there would be more than just his siblings there. There would probably be most of the demigods, if the news of a ceasefire had reached them all, and Lee didn't know who knew he was still alive. He didn't know what reception he'd get, either.

He didn't want to face the Hephaestus cabin, not with Beckendorf's final moments seared into his memory, and the knowledge that Kronos had known Silena had been lying because of him. He didn't want to face the Aphrodite cabin, either, knowing that they probably didn't yet know about their sister, their leader, and really not wanting to be the one to tell them, either. Facing the Hermes cabin would be difficult, with the last year watching Kronos operate in Luke's body, and he'd never seen Pollux without Castor nearby before, either.

It had been a year, and things changed in a year – even a normal year, let alone the final year of an escalating war. Lee returning at the dawn of the end of the war, when everything was at its most volatile, wouldn't let him readjust in peace.

He'd never been scared of camp before, not even when he was not quite seven and still grieving and being introduced to an entire cabin of strangers and told they were his older siblings. But as the chariot circled in to land, Lee realised that maybe he was a bit afraid.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari