Chapter Text
Percy sat on the lowest stair of the Amphitheater, the toes of her sneakers leaving gorges in the sand as she watched the last embers of the funeral pyres die out silently into the night. Everyone else had left by now, too drained from the battle and too grieved by their losses to fight against the temptation of the sweet oblivion of sleep. All except Percy, who’d waved away Annabeth’s offer to remain and pretended not to see the concerned looks Grover kept shooting in her direction, choosing to stay here where the scent of death and fire lingered like a curse in the air.
It was when she had finally remained alone that she’d allowed the tears to fall soundlessly, making glittering pathways through the dust from the battle still dirtying her cheeks. She would take a shower later, when her mind didn’t feel like it was one movement away from snapping, when her body was not so busy trying to keep the sobs inside.
Only the slight shift in the air to her left alerted her that she was no longer alone. She didn’t have to turn to look. She could recognize his presence in the same way she could recognize her own limb, even with her eyes closed.
There were shadows dancing on his face when she finally looked at him, an expression of bone-deep exhaustion and grief she was sure was mirrored on her own. For once he wasn’t looking at her though, dark gaze fixed where hers had been just a moment ago.
“Three of my kids died today.” He told her quietly, voice low and choked with emotion, though she wasn’t truly certain if he was talking to her or affirming the fact for himself. “And Luke-” He made a sound deep in his throat, like a wounded animal.
Everything in Percy wished to comfort him, to wrap her arms around him like he’d done when she’d fallen apart after Bianca’s death, but her own grief was too near to the surface, too raw still, to be able to bear his as well. So instead she shifted closer to his hunched over form, laying her head against his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort and take it. He stiffened for a moment before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer. His face buried itself in her wild curls, inhaling deeply the scent of smoke and blood of the battle and something deeper, the scent of a sea breeze and the crispness on an incoming storm all rolled into the form on one girl.
“I’m sorry, Hermes.” The girl whispered. “I wish I had done more, tried to talk to Luke again maybe, to convince him-”
“No!” The god denied vehemently, almost startling her into pulling away, but his voice softened with his next words. “No. He would have killed you if you tried and even then it would have made little difference. The fault, this burden, I fear is mine and mine alone to bear.”
“Don’t say that!” Percy cried out, never able to watch her friends suffer if she could help it. “I’m sure you did everything you could for him. It’s the ancient laws -”
“Forbid the gods from interacting with demigods directly, Percy. They say nothing about indirect help. Or even finding loopholes, sneaking around.” He sighed. “There is much more to the story than you know, deeper wounds than those you see.”
“Then tell me. Make me understand. Let me help you.”
“I can’t.” Hermes whispered, lifting her face with gentle fingers under her chin so she could meet his own sad, ancient eyes. “If you knew, I fear, you will never look at me like that ever again.” There was thumb softly tracing the darkened skin underneath her eyes. “I don’t think I could bear it, Percy.”
Raising her hand to lay it upon the one on her cheek, Percy tried to put every ounce of determination she could in her glassy gaze. “I promise to you that whatever happens, you will always be my friend.” He smiled then, a small, barely there curl of his lips that seemed to hold all the sadness of the world in its corners.
Silently, Percy vowed she would make him see, make him believe in her words even if it was the last thing she would do.