"𝔸 𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞." — Anonymous
Chapter 21: Farewell
««•••»»
Two Days Later
New York City
House of Sally Jackson
12 Hours Before Voyage Departure
It was harder with them in front of her.
So much so that it almost tempted her to stay, but she knew that there was no going back. Her decision was made, though she had to convince herself on multiple occasions that it was for the better.
That still didn't make it any easier.
They were just so young— six years old; such a tender age for them having to worry about if they would ever see her again. They were too young for trauma— too young to completely understand, no matter how much they wanted to.
She never wanted to leave them but her options were limited. Her hands were tied. It didn't matter how much she wanted to be selfish, because she simply didn't have that privilege. Annabeth had always remembered what her mother told Percy after they returned from Mount Othrys— only thirteen years old at the time. They were at a party on Olympus, celebrating her rescue and the saving of Artemis from Atlas's burden. Athena found the young boy in the crowd and told him that too much loyalty was a curse. She told him that to save a friend, he would sacrifice the world.
She could never figure out how that could be a bad thing, but now as she knelt before her children, tears in her eyes and her throat choked up, complete understanding finally crashed down on her. It wasn't so much loyalty as it was selfishness. Because it was true— to stay with her children, she would definitely sacrifice the world —without even giving a second thought.
But then there was the rational side of her that she was beginning to hate so much. What if everyone was to think like her...?Doing what made them happy without any regard or concern for the fate of the world and the way it is. It would haunt her forever if something were to happen that could've been prevented had she been there.
•
She had them sit on the couch in the living room, their little legs stagnant as they hung over the chair's edge, missing their usual explosive energy. They knew something was wrong. It wasn't often they would see their mother with her head in her hands, her beautiful golden-blonde hair fixed in a rushed messy bun, letting out small sniffles ever so often as she sat on her heels, shoulders slumped.
She just looked so... helpless.
They may have been children but they knew it was hard for her to raise them without their father by her side, no matter how much she tried to put on a brave face.
Long ago, she'd told them that their father was an amazing man; that he never left on purpose, but he had to go away for a while, and though she never specified where, she always said that they would see him one day, but even with her reassurance, there was still something missing.
Sure they had Chiron, Paul and their granddad Fredrick who acted as father figures to them, but even without having physically met him, no person could ever fill the place of their dad.
Percy Jackson was his name.
Of course they'd seen pictures of him, but those were taken when he was very young— before they were even born. There was this one time they thought they saw him; it was in the night time, during a dream. At the time they'd been so much younger— around two or three years old, but they could never forget how lifelike it all seemed... like they were really there.
•••
In the dream they were in a dark place, the red skies above mixing with inky clouds and black lightning that gave off faint light just enough that they were able to see right in front of them instead of nothing at all. From what they could feel, the ground was made of sharp shards of glass, like broken ceramic and pointed obsidian stones that was designed specifically to hurt their little bodies. Where there wasn't glass, there were warts and growths, the warm floor's skin-like texture soft but bumpy. If there was ever really a place such as hell, this is how they believed it to be.
The air was hard to breathe through; like expired eggs and rotting chicken added with the scent of decomposing carcasses from larger farm animals.
In the distance there was bright yellow light that seemed to spread for miles, it's glow standing out the most throughout the dark pit. Seeing as they were children, it wasn't surprising that their first instinct was to go towards it, for the reason that light was better than darkness.
As they got closer, the sound of clanging and scraping metal became more prominent, screams and wails ripping through the atmosphere like group of distressed banshees running away from a predator. When they stepped into the light, they were met by riots of nightmare-ish looking things fighting each other, the floor layered in shining dust that smelt awful.
Past the thick sea of creatures there were two men, seeming to be the center of attention, though the brawling never once ceased as they clashed. The men were giant; one much taller than the other but, both were easily the size of a three story house.
Neither of the two men looked anything alike— one had jet black hair that blew freely in the fetid wind like wild, untamed shadows. He had a very well structured face with scary red eyes, holding huge black knives in his hands. His massive size should've made it hard to move, but he did so with little too any effort, swinging the blades with skill at the next man.
The other was much bigger than the first, though from the way it looked, he was collapsing under the blows of the smaller man. It was difficult to even see if this one had a face as a whirlwind-like phenomenon swirled around the entirety of his head. His chest was covered by black iron armor with white-ish grey ghostly figures moving inside of it, a skirt fused with twisted blackened bones held on his waist by a belt of enormous interlocking arms. Where flesh was visible he had blood rushing out of thick purple and blue veins from cuts and gashes, inflicted onto him by the first man.
The sight of gore made the children sick, yet they couldn't find it to tear their eyes away from the scene. For some reason they felt drawn to raven haired man, his presence making their hearts pulse even faster than before. It was like a gravitational pull that towed them into his direction, the force making them unable to control where, when or how they moved. Their bodies passed seamlessly through those of the monsters like their being was made purely of wind or smog, and when they glanced down they realized that this was exactly the case. Their skin was coated over by clouds of white mist that made them look pale and corpse-like, their frames fuzzy and indistinct.
From their new position in the front of all the chaos, they were able to witness everything— every move, every parry, every spark, all in perfect clarity.
At some point throughout the battle, the smaller of the two giants stopped, completely null of movement except for his only slightly heaving chest. The grip on his knives loosened and the majestic silver glow around him dissipated. It was as if he'd just completely zoned out.
They used his motionless phase as a chance to analyze his face and figure out why he looked so familiar, yet so distant. They wanted to know why they felt such a powerful connection to him.
Apparently taking advantage of the opportunity was the moment's theme, because not even a solid minute through the abrupt pause, his opponent; with difficulty, lifted a lengthy blade and stabbed forward, catching the other off his guard.
The victim of the attack gasped and staggered back, his red eyes snapping open to full extent as he pulled the impaled weapon out from his flesh, clutching the wide, gushing wound.
A series of shouts, yells and cries erupted at the sight of the fatally injured man, creatures beginning to surround him to check on his state of living.
Through the mass of incoherent sounds, one thing stood out— the bewitching voice of a woman in the distance, laden with devastation as she screamed out to one specific person.
The name she called was Perseus, and only then did realization finally hit.
Only then did they understand the purpose of the dream, and why their bond to this man was so relevant to their lives.
Now as they knew who this was, it was easier to find the resemblances between him and the pictures that plastered the walls of Sally Jackson's house, and their mother's bedroom.
This was Perseus 'Percy' Jackson... otherwise known as their father.
Upon being made aware of this information, it became incredibly difficult to witness as everything unraveled before them.
They watched in horror as their father involuntarily dropped onto one knee, his breaths becoming labored as blood spewed out from his mouth, hitting the ground like prodigious drops of rain during a thunderstorm. The light in his red eyes went dull and the black blades fell out of his hands, clattering noisily as they hit the ground.
They saw as he fell onto his back, dust erupting from the floor on impact, but no matter how much the children called out to him, their voices came out chatter from twittering bats, inaudible amongst all the commotion.
They were forced to look on as he took his last breath and his eyelids closed.
In that moment, they began to fade, leaving the presumably dead man on the ground as they disappeared from the dream. It was like winning a car and breaking your legs before you can use it. Because the dream was too in-depth and detailed to mean nothing. He was gone, and there was no denying it.
•••
Up until some weeks prior, you would have never been able to convince the two children of their father's life, as they'd personally seen as he died in battle.
That was until they'd overheard their mother and grandmother having an extensive conversation about the said man.
From what they've put together, somehow he'd managed to return to their infamous camp; not by himself, but with a new woman on his arm. They figured that this was what their mother was upset about. She didn't like that he was with anyone but her, which was completely reasonable.
Still... they didn't like having to see her in such a depressed state, so logically, they did the only thing they knew how.
They got up and walked the short distance over to her, wrapping their arms around their mother in an attempt to console her.
Annabeth held them close, as if afraid that they'd vanish if she let go. She placed a kiss on each of their heads and ruffled their hair.
Looking at them, she couldn't help but take note of how much they looked like Percy when he was younger. Almost the complete spitting image of him had it not been for their similar qualities to her. It gave her the courage to go on, just so she may be able to see their faces again when she came back. If she came back at all.
She had an idea on what she wanted to say, but her words caught and balled up in her throat. Maybe it might be easier if she just left when they went to sleep? Would that make her a coward? Was that even an option?
Yes— it would make her a coward, and no— it was not an option. If someone did that to her, she would be devastated, so she tried to be strong, swallowing the need to release her tears right then and there, and after taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Annabeth's sat the two down on her lap.
She closed her eyes, and with a sigh, the mother finally began to speak.
"You know mommy loves you very much, right?" Her voice was but a whisper, so quiet and so fragile, like she might break if she spoke with too much volume.
Her children nodded.
"And you know that I'd never do anything to hurt you if I didn't have to."
Silena, the young blonde haired and green eyed little girl looked up at her mother, eyebrows scrunched and worry written all over her face. "What's going on, mommy? Something's wrong. I know it."
"Yeah." Micheal agreed. He looked the complete opposite of his sister, having grey irises and jet black hair like his father's. His hands trembled uncontrollably with anticipation. "Does this have anything to do with dad?"
Yes, it does, she wanted to tell them, but she couldn't. Annabeth didn't want to raise their hopes only to be crushed if Percy decided that he didn't want them in his life, and in all honesty, it's not like it would be irrational. Think about it—
You are put on trial for something you never did. You lose your case and you're thrown into a prison for the most evil and dangerous creatures to ever roam the Earth. You survive against all odds and you're called to help the people that wrongfully incarcerated you in the first place. Then, to add insult to injury, someone drops two children into your lap and expects you to immediately cope with the situation and act like it's normal.
It simply wasn't fair to Percy, nor his wife. They may have been his children, but he never asked for them, and he never asked to be jailed for seven years. No matter how much he'd changed or what he's become, he didn't deserve the cards that he was dealt. And besides, she'd made it this far without him...
"No."
Lying to them made her heart hurt, but it was done, though they didn't look to be convinced at all.
"It's just that I—..." she paused, trying to gather the right words to soften the blow. "...mommy has to go away for a while..."
Their little faces immediately morphed into ones laced with dismay, but not one bit shocked, almost as if they knew it was coming.
"Oh." Micheal answered, rather glumly. "When will you be back?"
Annabeth momentarily froze, conflicted. There were two main options. She could either a.) tell them the truth; which was basically telling them that she may never return, or b.) lie— telling them that she'd be back soon, knowing very well that this may not be the case.
She decided on c.)— which was the art of improvisation. The basic 'I don't know,' would be the perfect answer. It wasn't exactly lying but it wasn't telling the truth either, just a mere statement of uncertainty.
"What worries me is that I'm not sure." She sighed. "But hey..." Annabeth started, trying to make the best of a bad situation. "...at least grandma Sally's gonna stay to take care of you. She's gonna bake blue cookies, and you can play games with Estelle and have so much fun. Isn't that great?"
It was obvious that their feelings were hurt, and that was the last thing Annabeth wanted to do. She understood their pain. With the preparations for the war in motion, she barely saw them anymore. These two days had been the most time she'd spent with them in weeks.
"I suppose..." Though nothing about the small girl's tone implied that she was happy about it. Micheal remained silent.
"Look, I know that it's not ideal, and I know that I haven't been there for you recently, but I need you to understand that what I'm going through right now is hard for me." A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she wiped it away quickly before they could even notice. "I love you. And I promise that I'll do my best to come back to you."
When a car horn sounded outside, Annabeth knew that it was time to go.
She stood up, expecting the two children to cling to her legs and beg for her to stay, but they did nothing of the sort, leaving her to go on.
That stung.
At the door, Sally pulled Annabeth into a hug, the older woman's embrace seeping hope and warmth throughout the blonde's body.
"I want you to be careful, okay?" Sally sniffled. The brunette could feel Annabeth's nod on her shoulder. "I know the twins aren't happy about it, but they'll understand when they're older."
Annabeth pulled away. "I know... it's just that I feel like I'm letting them down."
Sally smiled, cordially but with traces of sympathy, but most importantly, knowingly. She knew how it felt to give a child up, putting her needs aside for the greater good of the world and the child's life. It was hard, but very much necessary.
"You are a strong woman, Annabeth. So selfless, so brave." She palmed Annabeth's cheek. "You are a wonderful mother, my dear. And I have no doubt in my heart that you'll overcome anything that comes your way."
•••
1 Hour Before
Long Island, USA
Camp Half Blood,
House Of Perseus
The Basement.
"You'd think that you would've learned from the mistakes of our past." Perseus hit the chain confined man in the face with his bare hand, leaving another defined bruise to complement the cuts and gashes around the victim's body.
The battered son of Athena could do nothing more than mumble in response, his mouth swollen and bloodied.
"I mean come on! You've been around long enough to understand what happens to traitors. Have you not?"
Perseus opened his palm, revealing the scythe charm that'd been found in this person's bunk, retrieved by the guards he'd assigned to the task.
Before the lad could even think about trying to answer, Perseus rained another punch down on the defenseless man, hitting him square in the nose and shattering the nasal cavity.
"Too many times in my life I've been stabbed in the back by people I trusted." The General placed his foot atop the receiver's ankle and applied pressure, resulting in a shrill scream. "Too many times I've been taken for a fool."
He walked to the stairs where a soldier stood with a firearm, taking the gun out of the guard's hand and loading the cartridge. When he returned in front of him, the bounded man's eyes widened and he scrambled back to no avail.
"Tell me why I shouldn't put a bullet in your head right now."
Though muffled and strained, somehow the beaten mortal managed to form words, desperate to preserve his life despite his predicament.
"I-I beg you." He coughed, blood spewing out the corners of his mouth. "You have to believe me, P-Percy. I am no traitor."
Perseus smiled balefully at the poor man, no part of his mind not allowing him to feel sorry for the traitor.
"You have yet to give me a reason, Athena spawn." He let off a shot, not at the man, but at the chains that bounded him, leaving him to drag himself away. Unfortunately for him, the damage inflicted was too much for his body to withstand.
"Answer me this, Mr. Pace." Perseus said, deathly serious. "How do you think your sister's going to react when she finds out that her brother is a renegade."
Malcolm either couldn't find it to reply, or was too broken down to move, talk or protest. This made Perseus chuckle darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement and rapture, completely betraying the stern look on his face.
His finger was on the trigger, pointing directly at the Wisdom Goddess's son's heart.
"Pl-please." Malcolm pleaded. "I know you. You a-are not a killer." He put his hand in front of the muzzle trying to shield himself. "I've fought by your side in the past. I know how you think. You may have killed monsters but you'll never kill a human, and that's perfectly fine." Pace paused, obviously needing to catch his breath after speaking so much and such rapid duration. "I know you don't trust me. Hell! I know you don't trust any of us at this camp but listen to me. You yourself have fell victim to unjust accusations. You know first hand how much it takes away from you. Don't do this, Percy, I would never betray your trust. Let me live."
Perseus seemed to take this into account.
Malcolm was indeed right. For as much as he was a killer, never in his life had he murdered a man. In the Second Titan War, he'd merely disarmed and wounded his enemies, never intending to kill.
He'd never taken life away from a being with as much purpose as a person, only insignificant and bothersome beasts that would've slain him had he not made the first move.
But he was different now.
Something Malcolm was also correct about was that Percy had truly fallen victim to the Greek system, and it took everything away from him. His humanity. His sense between right and wrong. And all he got from it was a title. A reputation. He had nothing that he once did. This included trust.
Percy realized and accepted that he'd never be normal again. He understood that he could never go back to the way he used to be before the Pit.
Everything was gone.
He wasn't going to give Malcolm the benefit of the doubt.
"People change."
"Wait!" Pace screamed just before the trigger was pulled. "You don't want to kill me man." He was frantic, doing anything and everything he could to save himself. "How would your children feel if you killed their uncle? Huh?"
Perseus abruptly lowered the gun, confused. "My what?"
Somehow, Malcolm was able to smile, only adding to the Percy's annoyance. "Your kids, man!" He said. "They love me! And I love them. Think about them before you do this."
"I have kids?" Perseus whispered to himself in complete disbelief.
"Twins." Malcolm said. "A boy and a girl, named Mikey and Silena Jackson. Annabeth had them 9 months after you were sent away. They look just like you."
And with that, Percy suddenly remembered all the times his eyes closed and he'd seen them. Every dream. Every time he was at the brink of death and the image of them would form in his vision, it always leave him wondering why.
But now, everything finally made perfect sense, including Annabeth's odd and secretive behavior whenever he was around. He just didn't understand how he couldn't have realized sooner.
He became indignant.
She'd hidden his children, for what purpose was unknown to him.
7 years he'd been gone, missing the entirety of their lives thus far. They never knew their father, just as Perseus never knew his. He'd made a promise, ever since he was a little boy that he would be there for his children, no matter the circumstances. He wanted them to have everything that he didn't, and Annabeth'd taken that opportunity away from him, whether logical or not.
"Where is Annabeth?"
In hopes that Percy would let him go, Malcolm betrayed his sister's trust, doing the exact thing that she'd asked him not to. "She's in New York." he told him. "Number 6 Drive in a town called Darien. It's a big blue house."
"Thank you."
Perseus raised his arm and aimed at the demigod's head.
"PERCY, NO! LISTEN TO ME—"
"—You haven't given me any reason to believe you, Malcolm!" Percy cut him off. "As far as I believe, you are the traitor, and your kind has no place amongst my ranks."
With those words, Percy fired, the slugs hitting Malcolm's neck, chest and especially his head.
The horrifying part?
The gun held exactly 17 bullets, and Percy didn't let up until there was nothing left to fire.
Every time he pulled the trigger something built up inside him, which Percy quickly came to realize was guilt, remorse and regret.
By the time Percy was finished, he had tears in his eyes, and his floors were painted in a flood of red.
Malcolm was damn near unrecognizable with his face now bloodied and deformed, skull cracked open with brain matter scattered near the body. The eyelids were still very much open, the once bright grey irises now dull and lifeless.
It was official.
Malcolm was dead.
It was such a criminal thing to do, and he was convinced that it would feel the same as it did with monsters, though he was proven wrong.
Nothing about it felt good.
But one thing Perseus was certain of, was that he was going to New York. Tonight.
Percy made sure to quickly wipe the stray tears from his eyes before he turned and spoke his next words.
"Clean this up." He told the skeletal soldiers. "I want this area spotless, like I was never fucking here."
***
4250 words
Help me edit will you?