Chapter Text
Clarisse opened her eyes and immediately everything started to hurt. Her head felt swollen and heavy, like a balloon ready to burst. Her chest ached when she breathed, sharp and tight and every part of her body, from her legs to the tips of her fingers, burned like it had been dragged through fire.
She coughed weakly and frowned at the sound of her own voice. It didn’t sound like her at all. It sounded smaller, thinner, weaker.
“Clarisse?”
The young voice startled her. She slowly pushed herself upright, wincing as pain spread through her ribs and shoulders. The world swayed for a moment before her vision settled, and when it did, she froze completely.
Pollux was staring at her. Except he looked younger, much younger.
His purple eyes were the same, wide and concerned and his blond curls were tangled exactly the way they always were after training. But his cheeks were rounder now, softer with baby fat that had long disappeared. He looked about ten years old, no older than that.
And there were two of him.
Clarisse blinked slowly. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and looked again, but nothing changed.
Both boys were still standing there. Her throat tightened as her gaze moved from one to the other.
“Castor?” she whispered.
The second boy smiled immediately and nodded. He and Pollux looked exactly the same now. When they were older at camp, it had become easier to tell them apart. Pollux kept his hair a little shorter and Castor carried the thin scar on his cheek from the fight he’d had with Sherman when he was fifteen. But before that, when they were younger, it had been impossible. They used to switch places constantly, confusing people for fun and laughing about it afterward with their identical grins.
Clarisse felt her eyes burn.
“We must be dead,” she murmured hoarsely. “I… missed you, Castor.”
Castor blinked at her, then suddenly laughed.
“You’re tearing up?” he said with a grin. “That’s new.”
Pollux nudged him with his elbow before turning back to Clarisse.
“And I don’t think we’re dead,” he added.
Clarisse frowned, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.
“Then how is he—”
“We don’t know,” Pollux said quickly. “But we’ve been taking turns watching you while you were sleeping. You were out for two days.”
Clarisse stared at him in disbelief. “Two days?”
Pollux nodded. “And this definitely doesn’t look like the Underworld. Well, Castor says it is not like the Underworld. At first we didn’t remember much, but then Castor started asking questions about why he was here and that’s when things started coming back to me. We shared our memories together to fill the blanks. But still, I have no idea why we are here.”
Clarisse looked between them again, her confusion deepening.
“Why are you guys this young?”
Castor crouched down beside her, studying her face closely.
“You mean why we’re all this young?” he said. “You look small too. And kind of silly.”
Clarisse instinctively lifted her hands to her face. Her fingers felt smaller, her cheeks softer than they should have been. Shock replaced the brief relief she had felt moments ago.
She wanted to get angry. She wanted to yell at them the way she normally would. That was how things were supposed to work. Clarisse La Rue didn’t cry and she definitely didn’t sit around feeling confused.
But now all she could feel was the sting of stupid tears burning in her eyes. She clenched her fists, furious with herself. She hated this, she hated feeling small.
“We will find a way,” Pollux said, his small, chubby hand gripping her arm tightly. “And look, I’m back with my twin. Maybe it’s a gift. Maybe someone decided we’ve suffered enough.”
Clarisse blinked, still trying to steady her breathing.
“Maybe,” she said quietly.
She pushed herself up, struggling to stand. Both boys immediately grabbed her arms to help her. She wobbled slightly when her feet touched the ground, pain shooting through her legs, but after a moment she managed to steady herself.
Only then did she notice something that made her feel slightly better.
She was still a head taller than both of them. That meant she must be older than they were, at least by a little. The thought gave her a small sense of control she desperately needed.
Clarisse glanced around.
The forest stretched endlessly in every direction. Tall trees crowded close together, their branches weaving a thick canopy overhead that blocked most of the sunlight. The ground was uneven, covered with roots, stones, and patches of damp earth.
“We can’t stay here,” Clarisse muttered. “It’s… all woods.”
Pollux nodded quickly. “We cleared a path while you were out. Follow us.”
Clarisse obeyed, letting them lead the way between the trees. Each step sent pain through her legs. When she looked down, she saw that both of them were covered in cuts, some still bleeding through dried streaks of red.
She forced herself not to react, pain didn’t matter right now, she needed to stay strong, she needed to protect them.
As they walked, Castor suddenly giggled beside her.
“So… can you tell us apart now?”
Clarisse snorted softly.
“Not really,” she admitted. “But you’re wearing the jacket you had when you—”
She stopped herself.
Castor tugged lightly at the sleeve of the jacket and looked down at it.
“Oh,” he said. Then he shrugged. “Right.”
Clarisse felt a small pang of guilt.
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“It’s okay!” Castor said immediately, flashing his usual wide grin. “I didn’t feel any pain. I just missed Pollux so much… and you guys. Now I’m so happy I can’t stop smiling!”
Clarisse glanced over at Pollux. Pollux was smiling too, but his smile looked different. Tighter and forced. The kind of smile people wore when they were trying not to cry, trying to stay strong because someone else needed them to. Pollux looked like someone holding himself together by sheer will. Clarisse didn’t say anything. But the sight made the uneasy feeling in her chest grow heavier.
“Do you know where this path leads?”
Pollux stopped walking and looked ahead at the narrow trail cutting through the trees. After a moment he shook his head.
“No,” he admitted. “But this is the clearest path we found.”
“I’m starting to get tired,” Castor pouted, dragging his feet slightly behind them.
“We need to keep going,” Clarisse said firmly as she reached out and took his hand.
Castor pouted again, but he nodded and allowed her to hold on as Pollux continued leading the way through the forest. The path they had cleared twisted between thick trees and tangled underbrush. It wasn’t much, but it was better than pushing blindly through the wilderness.
Clarisse forced herself to keep walking despite the pain in her legs. Every step stung where the cuts on her skin reopened, but she ignored it. Complaining wouldn’t help anyone. The twins were already looking to her for strength.
And she refused to look weak.
Far away, across the universes, Camp Half-Blood buzzed with anxious energy.
Malcolm had never seen the camp like this before. The campers had faced two wars. But this was different. This fear felt quieter, heavier. It hung over the camp like a storm that refused to break.
Even Malcolm had to admit he was scared.
One morning, he had simply woken up and noticed his sister’s bed was empty.
At first he had been logical about it. Annabeth had been sick for weeks. The fever that clung to her refused to break, leaving her pale, nauseous, and exhausted. Malcolm had assumed she had gotten scared during the night and gone to Percy’s cabin to sleep beside him like she sometimes did when she felt miserable.
But when Percy was missing too, the panic had begun to rise.
Annabeth would never just leave the camp like that, especially not while she was sick. She had barely been able to stand the day before.
Tartarus had done this to them, Malcolm hated it. He hated that his sister still suffered because of the horrors they had endured there. The poison of that place still lingered in both her and Percy. Weeks later they were still pale, still weak, still fighting fevers that refused to disappear.
Malcolm clenched his jaw at the thought.
He and Annabeth were close in age. When Malcolm first arrived at camp at ten years old, Annabeth had only been eleven. They hadn’t just become siblings, they had become best friends.
He remembered how she had tried to teach him dagger techniques when they were younger, standing behind him and correcting the way he held the blade. He remembered how she had shared the teddy bear Luke had given her whenever Malcolm woke from nightmares. He remembered climbing into her bed when nightmares left him in tears, both of them whispering and giggling until their older siblings told them to be quiet.
Those memories made the emptiness of her cabin feel unbearable. Losing her hurt more than Malcolm wanted to admit.
The worst part was the lack of answers. There was no logical explanation for what had happened and as an Athena kid, that uncertainty gnawed at him constantly.
He and the other Athena children had gathered many times now, trying to analyze every possibility behind the disappearance of Annabeth and the other fourteen campers. They searched for patterns, clues, anything that might make sense.
But there was nothing, nothing made much sense.
And the worst possibility lingered unspoken among them all: They didn’t even know if the disappearances were finished.
The thought alone made the entire camp paranoid.
Grief and fear spread through the cabins. Younger campers cried themselves to sleep at night while older ones tried desperately to find solutions they weren’t capable of solving. The anxiety never faded. It only grew heavier with each passing day.
Absurdity had stopped confusing Malcolm long ago. His life had been absurd from the beginning. His mortal mother was not normal. She stopped caring for him the moment he was kicked out of boarding school at age ten. He then found himself in a strange summer camp with lots of strange kids and that he had a dozen of siblings he did not know before. And of course, that his other mother is a Greek Goddess.
So he didn’t question it much when the gods began staying at the camp.
He had been told they were only fragments of the gods themselves. According to Athena, the gods were capable of dividing their presence. While their true forms remained on Olympus, planning and arguing, smaller portions of their divine power remained here at camp to guard the remaining demigods.
Malcolm understood that it still took effort, the gods looked exhausted. They often stood perfectly still for long moments, blinking too slowly or staring off into nothing as if concentrating on something far away. Sometimes they looked pale, distracted, like people trying to focus on two different conversations at once.
It told Malcolm that this was not something they did often.
The constant presence of the gods didn’t make him uncomfortable. Nothing could make him more uncomfortable than the fact that his sister and his friends were gone. He barely even noticed how strange things had become.
Aphrodite now cradled her children constantly, enormous white wings wrapped protectively around them. Hermes had begun sleeping in the Hermes cabin, reading quiet stories to his children while they clung to him. Apollo sang softly every night to lull his terrified children to sleep. Dionysus had suddenly become deeply involved with the camp again, remembering every camper’s name perfectly and refusing to leave the grounds. Demeter brought handmade food for everyone each day and barely let her own children leave her sight.
And Athena…Athena had remained at the camp as well.
Malcolm had seen his mother for perhaps fifteen minutes in his entire life before this. Now she hadn’t left for weeks.
She sat among her children with enormous wings, something he had never seen with her, spread around them like a shield, holding them close while her grey eyes scanned the around without blinking, watching.
Now they were all sitting together inside their cabin.
The Athena cabin felt smaller than usual with everyone gathered so tightly. The windows were open to let in the evening air, but the tension inside the room still felt heavy. None of the siblings had truly relaxed since the disappearances began.
“Mother.”
Athena’s grey, unblinking eyes turned toward Malcolm.
Right now she was seated on the floor among them rather than on one of the bunks. Two of her youngest children sat on her lap, leaning against her as if afraid she might vanish if they let go. The others had gathered in a loose circle around them, a board game spread across the wooden floor between them.
Athena had suggested it earlier, hoping the familiar activity might calm the younger children and distract them from their fears.
It had not worked very well.
“Is there any chance,” Malcolm asked carefully, “that we can learn more about what is happening on Olympus?”
Athena sighed quietly. She rested one arm around Alice and Wren, holding them closer as she looked at Malcolm.
“I cannot,” she said simply.
“Why not?” one of his brothers pressed.
Athena’s gaze drifted briefly across the cabin, studying each of her children before answering.
“Because the Fates have given us a chance,” she said. “And right now, we must focus on the task of bringing your sister, and the other missing demigods, back. I can’t explain what it is or…where we are,”
Malcolm frowned slightly. What she said did not make much sense to him, but he held his tongue. Questioning the Fates was rarely wise, or questioning his own mother. He could only hope that she would bring back Annabeth. He understood the Gods probably left Olympus to search somewhere, but he had no idea where they could be.
“So…” Xene spoke up from across the circle, leaning forward slightly. “They’re alive surely?”
Athena’s gaze softened.
“They are,” she confirmed. “They are simply… among strangers.” She paused for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. “Strangers who are not what they seem.”
Alice frowned where she sat on Athena’s lap.
“What?”
Athena gently brushed a hand through the little girl’s hair.
“Nothing you need to worry about right now,” she said calmly. “Your sister will come home. All of you are safe here with me.”
“But when?”
The question came from Wren. The eight-year-old sat curled against his mother, his blond curls tangled and wild like he hadn’t slept properly in days. His small fingers clutched tightly at the fabric of Athena’s robes.
He looked miserable.
Wren had always adored Annabeth more than anyone else. Barely leaving her side when she was at camp, calling her his favorite sister openly. Her being sick shook him hard, but losing her had shaken him deeply, and even at his young age he understood enough to know the danger she might be in.
“I don’t know,” Athena admitted honestly. The words were quiet but firm.
“But she will return,” she continued, lowering her head to kiss the top of Wren’s hair. “Do not fear for her, my son.”
But Malcolm could see the worry in her eyes.
Now the oldest among his siblings, he didn’t dare voice it out loud. Still, a strange warmth settled in his chest as he watched his mother trying to soothe the younger ones. It was something he had never truly seen before.
Athena was not known for comfort. Yet here she was, holding two small children in her arms, letting the others gather around her, trying to distract them with games and quiet conversation. It felt unfamiliar, almost strange.
It was like Athena herself was terrified. Terrified for her missing daughter, terrified for each of them. Yet fighting to keep her composure.
At that moment, Malcolm felt his respect for her grow. He understood something he had never considered before.
Even Athena needed help sometimes.
Slowly, Malcolm leaned forward and began closing the board game. He gathered the scattered pieces from the floor and carefully returned them to their box.
“What is it, Malcolm?” Athena asked. Her worried grey eyes settled on him immediately.
“Nothing, Mother,” he replied calmly. “I just think the board game has started to become boring. Maybe we should do something else.”
Athena tilted her head slightly.
“Oh?” she said. “What do you children enjoy?”
“Story time!” Alice chirped excitedly.
The six-year-old clapped her hands happily from Athena’s lap.
“Yes!” another voice joined. “The story of Icarus!”
“No, Odysseus!” someone argued immediately.
“That’s too simple,” another sibling scoffed. “I want to hear about Arachne!”
“Ew, no, disgusting,” someone else protested. “We can learn more about the birth of our mother!”
Athena opened her mouth, clearly about to refuse.
“What about Perseus?” one of Malcolm’s brothers suggested quickly, cutting her off.
The cabin quickly filled with overlapping voices as the younger children began arguing over which myth they wanted to hear. Suggestions bounced back and forth, growing louder with each second.
Athena looked… lost. For a moment she simply watched them, clearly unsure how to quiet the growing chaos, without breaking their hearts or scaring them.
So Malcolm stepped in.
“Alright,” he said firmly, raising his voice just enough to cut through the noise. “The storyteller picks the story. No arguing.”
The room went quiet. Several blond heads turned at once. Their attention shifted to Athena.
Malcolm caught the brief look she gave him then, one filled with quiet pride, before she cleared her throat and settled more comfortably among them.
Then she began her story.
“Are those… grapevines?” Clarisse asked, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she stared at the tangled plants stretching across the clearing.
Pollux sniffed the air and tilted his head slightly.
“Yeah… that’s it,” he said slowly. “So this is where that strong smell was coming from.”
Castor looked around the clearing, his tired eyes brightening slightly.
“Maybe we can stay here tonight,” he suggested hopefully. “No more giant woods. It looks safe enough.”
Clarisse frowned.
“You want to sleep in open wild?” she said. “That’s—”
“Children should not wander around alone this late.”
The voice cut through the clearing like a quiet blade. All three of them jumped.
Clarisse’s instincts reacted instantly. Her hand flew to her belt and she pulled out a small knife. It wasn’t her weapon, and it felt far too light in her hand, but it would have to do.
She stepped forward immediately, placing herself between the twins and the stranger.
“Stay back,” she growled.
The woman standing among the vines did not move. She looked… wrong, somehow. Not frightening, but not human either.
Her long brunette hair fell smoothly down her back, catching the fading light between the trees. Her dress was simple but elegant, flowing softly around her ankles as if it barely touched the ground. There was a faint glow in her eyes that made Clarisse’s instincts prickle. Yet, the woman didn’t look threatening.
“You do not need to fear me,” she said gently. Her voice was soft, almost soothing. “I sensed you long before you reached this place.” Her gaze shifted toward the twins. “I sensed my husband’s essence.”
Clarisse frowned, tightening her grip on the knife.
“Who are you?”
The woman smiled faintly.
“I am Ariadne, young one,” she said calmly. “I was trying to guide you here.”
Clarisse blinked in shock.
“Ariadne?” she repeated. “The wife of Dionysus?”
Ariadne nodded.
“Yes. Welcome to my home.” Her eyes returned to the twins, warm curiosity flickering across her expression. “My husband is currently on Olympus, but he will be very pleased to learn of this miracle.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying Castor and Pollux with quiet fascination.
“Not one child,” she murmured softly. “But two.”
Before the twins could step forward, Clarisse grabbed both of their arms and pulled them back behind her.
“What do you mean by miracle?” she demanded. “And Mr. D was at camp. He’s not allowed to leave until the Summer Solstice.”
Ariadne looked genuinely confused.
“What camp are you speaking of, my child?” she asked gently. “My husband rarely leaves Olympus. His duties keep him there most of the time.” She paused, her voice growing softer. “When he is able to leave, he returns here… to our home.”
Her gaze drifted back to the twins again.
“I was never able to give him children,” she added quietly. “It was a sadness he carried for many years.” Then she smiled again. “But now it seems the gods have finally blessed him.”
Pollux blinked in confusion.
“My dad used to have lots of kids,” he said slowly. “What do you mean by finally?”
Ariadne shook her head.
“No,” she said calmly. “After the curse, he never had any children. Though he always wished for them.”
Clarisse felt the ground shift under her understanding. She blinked, slowly turning her head toward Pollux. This wasn’t their world. It couldn’t be. Not their Dionysus, constant use of Ancient Greek.
But they could not run. Running would only make things worse. They needed a safe place to stay. They needed food, rest, and somewhere they could sleep without fearing monsters or worse things lurking in the woods.
For now, they had no choice. They had to play along.
Ariadne stepped closer, studying them with quiet curiosity. Then she leaned slightly forward and inhaled the air around them, as if scent alone could tell her their stories.
“Ares,” she murmured softly, a note of wonder in her voice. “He will be very pleased.”
Clarisse felt her throat tighten. She swallowed hard but forced herself to nod slowly.
“Yes,” she said carefully.
“Olympus has been blessed once more,” Ariadne continued, clearly delighted by the discovery. “First, five children appearing at once, now it is eight… it is a miracle.”
“What? Are there others?” Clarisse asked, her heart beginning to pound.
Ariadne nodded.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “A daughter of Athena, a son of Poseidon, a son of Hermes, a son of Apollo and a son of Hades.”
Clarisse’s heart started racing. They weren’t alone. Other demigods were here too. She grabbed onto that fact immediately.
“Take us there,” she said.
Pollux stepped forward beside her, his voice softer but just as eager.
“Please,” he added. “I want to see my father.”
Ariadne smiled gently at them.
“I will,” she promised. Then she gestured toward the vineyard behind her.
“But first,” she said kindly, “let us fill your stomachs.” Her eyes softened as she looked at the children. “You must be exhausted.”
And yes, Clarisse was starving.
By the time the food was placed on the table, she barely remembered sitting down.
Ariadne had not prepared a simple meal. She had given them a feast.
There were bowls of chickpeas and maza bread, plates of lahana wrapped with herbs, fresh figs and apples piled in wooden trays. Thick phake stew steamed in clay bowls, honeycakes glistened under golden syrup, and olives were scattered across the table beside pieces of goat cheese.
And there was wine. Watered wine, Clarisse noticed. Even so, she eyed it suspiciously before cautiously sniffing the cup. Ariadne had clearly diluted it with plenty of water, but Clarisse still wasn’t sure whether children were supposed to drink it.
In the end, hunger won the argument.
Across the table, Pollux and Castor were eating just as wildly, stuffing their mouths with figs and chunks of goat cheese as if the food might disappear if they slowed down.
Clarisse didn’t judge them. She was doing the same.
At the head of the table, Ariadne simply watched them with quiet amusement. Her eyes were warm, almost motherly, as she allowed the three children to eat until their hunger finally began to fade.
Only after every plate had been cleared did she finally rise from her seat.
“There is a stream just beyond the vines,” she told them gently. “You may wash your hands there.”
Clarisse obeyed immediately, more grateful than she wanted to admit. Pollux followed close behind her, though Castor lingered at the table, still stuffing another honeycake into his mouth.
The stream was cool and clear. Clarisse crouched beside it and dipped her hands into the cold water. She scrubbed the sticky honey and oil from her fingers before splashing some water onto her face.
The cold helped. For the first time since waking up in the forest, she felt some of her strength returning.
“Do you think Castor would be gone?”
Pollux’s voice came quietly from beside her. Clarisse turned her head, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“What do you mean?”
Pollux stared down at the water, his reflection trembling in the current.
“I just…” he said quietly. “I’m scared he’ll suddenly disappear again.”
His voice cracked.
“He was dead,” Pollux continued, barely above a whisper. “And now he’s here. But when we go back… he might be gone again.”
His shoulders shook.
“I’m not ready for that.”
Clarisse felt something twist painfully in her chest.
She didn’t understand everything that was happening either. She didn’t know how Castor had returned or why they had been brought to this strange place.
But Pollux’s fear made horrible sense. And she hated it.
“I don’t know,” Clarisse admitted honestly.
She looked over her shoulder toward the vineyard. Castor was still sitting at the table, happily eating figs now, his legs swinging beneath the chair like he didn’t have a single worry in the world.
“But he’s here now,” she said firmly. “And he needs us.”
Pollux wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, though the tears kept coming.
“He’s so happy,” Pollux said. “Like he doesn’t even remember how he died.”
Clarisse frowned.
“He’s not angry,” Pollux continued softly. “He’s not upset about anything.” He hesitated before adding, “When we were little, we used to feel each other’s emotions. If he was sad, I was sad too. Mom called it twin telepathy.”
Pollux looked back at the vineyard again.
“But right now… it feels like I didn’t get him back completely.” His voice trembled. “It’s like he’ll disappear the moment he smiles.”
Clarisse studied him for a moment. Then she followed his gaze to Castor again.
The boy looked perfectly happy, sitting in the warm afternoon light and eating fruit like nothing terrible had ever happened to him.
Clarisse thought about that carefully. Then she stood and wiped her wet hands on her tunic.
“You need to be strong, Pollux,” she said.
“We don’t have answers yet. But we do have each other.” Her voice softened slightly.
“He’s back for a reason,” she continued. “And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep him with us.” She looked him straight in the eyes.
“He’s not disappearing.”
Pollux sniffed loudly.
Then, before Clarisse could stop him, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Clarisse stiffened.
“Hey!” she protested. “Your hands are sticky!”
But after a second, she awkwardly patted his back anyway. Pollux let out a small giggle through his tears. When he finally pulled away, his purple eyes looked calmer.
Clarisse jerked her chin toward the stream.
“Wash your hands,” she ordered.
Then she glanced back toward the vineyard where Castor was still eating.
“Let’s not keep your brother waiting.”
“Do you think they’re together?”
Malcolm thought about the question for a moment. He could see the worry clearly on his younger sister’s face, the tension in the way she held her hands together.
“Mother didn’t say,” he replied at last.
His sister glanced over her shoulder toward Athena.
Their mother was speaking quietly with Dionysus. Unlike the other gods, Dionysus had no children gathered around him to comfort or calm. He stood alone, his posture heavy with exhaustion.
Malcolm had never seen the god like that before. The usual sarcasm was gone, the bored expression was gone. What remained was grief.
“I think they’re together, though,” Malcolm said after a moment. “They always stick together.”
His sister looked back at him. A small amount of relief softened her face before she rested her head against his shoulder.
When Clarisse opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was five familiar faces staring at her.
For a moment, her brain struggled to catch up with what she was seeing. They were younger like them. But she would recognize them anywhere.
Percy stood at the front with his usual crooked grin already forming on his face. Beside him stood Annabeth, with that knowing look she always had when she was observing everything at once. Will hovered slightly behind them, his blue eyes full of quiet concern. Nico stood beside him, looking far too pleased with the situation, a mischievous grin tugging at his mouth.
And behind them, was Luke.
Clarisse’s chest tightened. Questions immediately flooded her mind. A hundred of them. Maybe more. But she could see from the way they kept glancing toward Castor that they had questions too. Some of them looked close to tears. Others were trying to hide excited laughter.
Clarisse felt her own eyes begin to sting. Being twelve again was apparently a curse in more ways than one. Her emotions felt far closer to the surface than she liked. Still, she didn’t bother wiping the tears away.
Percy’s teasing grin didn’t annoy her like it normally would have. Annabeth’s sharp gaze didn’t irritate her either. Will’s worried expression and Nico’s smug little smile felt strangely comforting. At least they were here.
Before Clarisse could say anything, several small arms suddenly wrapped around her at once.
She stiffened instinctively. Clarisse was not a person who enjoyed hugs. Especially not two hugs in a day. But this time, she didn’t push them away. She let them hold on.
Because despite everything that had happened, at least they were still together.