Chapter Text
Rage.
The first word of the Iliad is rage.
***
Jason doesn’t sleep.
He mostly waits under the covers, listening to the soft dripping sound of the fountain in his cabin, before the sun is high enough for him to take a walk around camp without catching curious glances. Sometimes, he doesn’t last that long; on the worst nights, he takes his sword into the forest and listens to the rushing water on a stump by the lake.
There are ghosts under his bed, in his closet, under his skin.
The first thing Jason tells the new kids is: Don’t swing your sword at anything you’re not prepared to hit. You have to mean it. You always have to mean it.
The first things the new kids hear about him are: Yes, he lost his best friend. Don’t bring it up. Yes, he dated that McLean girl. Yes, past tense. He feels their liquid eyes on his back, mouths gone soft with pity.
The thing that nobody understands is that Jason is actually fine. There’s just a lot to do, and there never seems to be enough time.
***
The first time Jason sees Percy after—just after, he’s all limbs, sprawled across the couch in the Big House like he hasn’t put his head down in days. For a moment, Jason thinks he’s sleeping, right up until Percy angles his chin and catches Jason’s stare.
Jason freezes in the doorway, feeling caught.
“Sorry,” he says immediately. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“It’s all good.” Percy sits up, hand across his side. His hair sticks up in a cowlick near the back, making him look younger than he is, if only his bones didn’t jut out so clearly. “You aren’t interrupting much of anything.”
“Hey.” There’s a dark spot on Percy’s t-shirt that looks like dried blood. He inches closer on reflex alone. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Percy says, getting to his feet. He angles his left side away from Jason.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he says, shorter this time. “Why are you here?”
Jason hesitates, licking his lips. Briefly, he thinks about saying he’s there to speak with Chiron, maybe say he just came for some quiet. Then he decides on the truth.
Jason steps inside.
“I heard you’ve been leaving camp a lot,” he says, “and no one really knows why you’re leaving. Then I heard you were back, so I just—I’m just here.”
Percy considers him, weary. “Right. I’ve heard the same about you, you know. The leaving.”
“For a few weeks,” he agrees. “A few weeks here, then a few at Jupiter. I’ve only been here for one.”
“Must be nice,” he says. His voice doesn’t give anything away, but the stillness in him, like a coil pulled straight, speaks for itself.
It hits Jason that for all that they’ve stopped going at each other’s throats, they’ve never really learned how to be friends, either.
“It is,” Jason says, inane. “What about you. Are you—is it nice?”
He shrugs. “Anything is better than a war.”
Jason bites his lip. “I guess you’re right,” he says quietly.
Percy stares at him with a growing crease between his eyebrows, as if he’s trying hard to puzzle something out.
“Not that it hasn’t been a pleasure, but I should get going,” Percy says after a beat, turning towards the door. He gives Jason another one of those empty backwards smiles. “I’ll see you later, Boy Scout.”
“Yeah.” Jason feels like he’s just lost his grasp on the situation, as if somewhere along the way, he fell out of rhythm with Percy, if they were ever on the same wavelength in the first place. “Okay.”
Then Percy walks out the door into the sun. Out of sight, out of reach.
***
“You’re distracted,” Piper says, once they’ve managed to sneak out from Camp. It meant promising the Stoll twins they would play on their team during Capture the Flag and sacrificing their last hoarded 12 pack of soda, but neither of them are particularly upset about it.
They don’t say it outright, but sometimes it’s difficult to look around Camp and remember things they’d rather forget.
So they go to the most unhealthy fast food restaurant they can find. To cope.
“No, I’m not,” he says around his drink. Then, completely contradicting what he just said, adds: “What do you know about Percy’s weird absences?”
Piper almost spits out her burger. “Did Annabeth mention it to you?”
Jason frowns because no, of course not. He hasn’t exchanged a word with Annabeth in months, and even then, it was only a few sentences.
He pauses with a handful of fries halfway to his mouth. “No. Why?”
“I don’t know anything about it,” she says, ignoring him. “I don’t think Chiron even really understands what’s happening. Then again, he wouldn’t tell any of us if he did. Annabeth thinks Percy has made him promise not to keep tabs on him.”
“He can’t do that, right?” He considers this. “Can he do that?”
Piper shrugs. “Nico never stays in one place for long.”
“It’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“After Tartarus, he hasn’t been the same. None of us know what he might do.”
Piper frowns. “Nico got stuck there, too, and it’s not as if he’s homicidal, Jason.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.” She chews on her lip. “I know this is worrying you, it’s worrying all of us,” (and it says a lot about Jason that he immediately understands “all of us” as the rest of the Seven), “but don’t get too involved in this one.”
He blinks. “Wait, what?”
She says, “I’m telling you now: don’t try and play the hero.”
“What? Pipes, I’m not trying to do anything.”
“Yes, you are, but Jason, listen to me: Percy Jackson does not need to be saved.”
***
Once, Piper asked Jason if he knew who he was.
You have all these kids looking up to you, she said, but you don’t belong to them. You’re something on your own.
You’re right, he said, easily enough, but the look on her face had told him she didn’t believe it, as if he were lying to her, and his lie had landed badly.
Do you? she murmured. Jason, really. Do you?
Jason is a lot of things. He’s the son of Jupiter, Praeter of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, and Head Counselor of the Zeus Cabin. He’s a leader, and he’s nearsighted.
What else is there to say? Jason knows who he is.
Absurdly, he wonders what Percy might answer, if he were asked.
***
“Percy Jackson?” Malcolm echoes, once Jason catches him on his way out of the Athena cabin. He’s surprised enough that he stops halfway through his next step. He doesn’t stumble, but it’s a close thing. “What about him?”
He knows Malcolm takes reading breaks late in the morning, hidden between the trees and bushes. With Annabeth busy, Chiron unlikely to give him any straightforward answers, and not wanting to catch the attention of anyone who knows him well, Malcolm is his last option.
“You haven’t, I don’t know,” he says, trying to be subtle and ninety percent sure he’s doing a bad job, “seen him around? Have you?”
Malcolm gives Jason a strange look before sitting down under his usual tree.
“No,” he says, “I haven’t. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“Right,” he mutters. He taps an unsteady rhythm against his mouth, setting the book in his hand aside. “Well, I certainly don’t know anything about it. The only reason Percy and I ever talked was because we shared the same friend. You should ask one of the Seven. Or Grover.”
“I already tried. No one knows anything, or they won’t tell me.”
Jason thinks about that twisting, ugly wound across Percy’s side, the blood still seeping through his fingers despite the fact Jason’s almost a hundred percent certain Percy stapled it.
The Percy he knew would never run into a fight, but they’d been younger then. Not in terms of time, but in other ways. Percy’s eyes had less shadows, and Jason could still hold tools in his hands without shaking.
Maybe part of being young is thinking you can choose your battles. Then you get older and realize someone else chooses the battles, and most of the time, they weren’t even yours to begin with.
“Are we going to acknowledge how weird it is to see you this hung up over Percy Jackson?” Malcolm asks.
Jason looks up. “I’m just curious.”
“All right,” Malcolm says, cracking his book back open to the page he left off on, “so we’re not.”
***
When Jason sees Percy for the second time since Before, it’s just as Percy walks out of the infirmary. His clothes are different, and he has a little more color to his face than he did a few days ago.
Jason knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance, so he jogs through the crowd without the slightest idea of what he will say when he finally catches up to him. When his heart beats, his body pounds with it.
“Percy,” he says. “Percy!”
Percy’s eyes widen a little when he turns and sees Jason. It’s probably surprise alone that makes him slow down enough for Jason to make it within arm’s reach.
“Hey,” Percy says, blinking.
“Hey,” Jason says. “I—how’re you doing?”
“Fine. I was just let out today.” Percy tugs his shirt up so Jason can see the large white bandage taped securely above Percy’s waistband. “You can check this time, if it makes you feel better.”
Jason doesn’t know if Percy’s joking or not, so he hazards a small smile and says, “No, thank you,” as sincerely as he can.
“Sure.” When Jason doesn’t say anything else, Percy raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Is that all you wanted to ask?”
“Yes. No. I mean, it was the most important.”
“Sure.”
“But I’d been meaning to ask you if you—do you always leave alone?”
This, somehow, seems to confuse Percy further. “Yes,” he says finally.
Jason licks his lips. “Do you think I could join you?”
“Join me,” Percy echoes.
“Yeah.”
“I.” Percy says, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jason says. It’s not a lie. He doesn’t know how to explain what it does to Jason to think about Percy outside the camp, working in the dark, in broad daylight, and getting golden dust splattered across his shirt. It doesn’t worry him, but he still can’t help but picture it constantly.
He doesn’t dream of it, but it is the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up, lets it play out while he takes laps through the forest. He imagines the twigs snapping under his feet are the sounds of swords clashing with intent, that at any moment, he’ll have to dive and roll.
“If you’re asking me,” Percy says, “you should know why.”
Percy moves as if to leave.
“I want to help you,” Jason blurts. “I just want to help.”
Percy turns back to Jason, and in a single instant, Jason can tell something’s changed. The vague good humor he’d been extending towards Jason is gone. It has something to do with Percy’s eyes, where he places his weight. Once again, the moment has shifted under Jason’s feet, and he can’t understand why.
“I can handle myself.”
“I know. Percy, asking for help doesn’t make you weak.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Percy reminds him, his voice low but no less unkind for it. Jason recoils, feeling his stomach flip. “You offered. Don’t turn this into one of your therapy sessions, Jason.”
“I,” Jason says. The rest of it dies somewhere on the way to his mouth. What can he say? What is there for him to say?
“Good seeing you,” Percy says. His tone isn’t layered enough to leave any doubt that he means the opposite.
For his part, Jason doesn’t make any attempts to stop him from leaving.
***
“I see the conversation went well,” Malcolm says as Jason plops down beside him on the grass. The sun is casting it’s lazy orange glow across camp. There’s still a phantom heat sticking to the ground. Jason presses his palms against it and breathes.
“How do you know?”
“It’s hard not to notice when kids of the Big Three are together. It’s like the world tips on its axis.”
“Very funny.”
“You should’ve waited before talking to him.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference.” Jason rubs the bridge of his nose raw. “I don’t think we ever learned how to really get along. Maybe for a while, but never anything substantial. I’m stupid for trying.”
“You’re stupid regardless.”
Jason makes sure his expression tells Malcolm how funny he thinks that isn’t. Malcolm’s mouth tips up at the sight of it, twinkling with amusement.
“He asked me why I wanted to go with him.”
“What did you say?”
“That I wanted to help him.”
Malcolm raises his eyebrows. “Well, there’s the problem.”
“What?”
“Percy Jackson doesn’t need a hero, Jason.”
Jason makes a frustrated sound. “I know that. Everyone keeps assuming I don’t know that.”
“Then you’re lying to him,” Malcolm says. Jason blinks. “Maybe you think it’s because you want to help him. Maybe that’s your truth, but have you ever sat down and really reflected on why you’re chasing him around like this?”
Jason goes silent. For a moment, all there is is the slight summer breeze, the sun fading past the horizon.
“No,” he admits. It feels more like a confession that it should.
Malcolm shrugs. “Try it. See what comes up.”
***
Jason doesn’t see Percy for the next two weeks, and not for lack of trying. It becomes a distraction, and Jason knows it.
During sword practice, Laila manages to slip out of his grip with an elbow to his chest. He gasps, shocked, and it allows her the second she needs to get his feet out from under him and tuck the tip of her blade under his chin. The campers around them still to a halt. She looks as surprised as Jason feels.
“I was testing to see if you knew what to do,” Jason says as calmly as he’s able when he’s pinned to the grass.
Laila laughs and offers him a hand. Her smugness is probably visible from space. “Sure thing.”
“You’ve lost your edge,” Alejandro tells Jason. “You’re getting old.”
“At least I know how to strap my armor on right.”
Rajan nudges Alejandro, grinning. “Ouch,” he says.
Laila pats Jason on the shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad. Think of it as making room for the younger generation.”
“I’m only three years older than you guys,” Jason reminds them.
“That’s a lot in demigod years,” Rajan says. “Like, nine, at least.”
Later, Jason runs into Piper, who’s sitting on the stairs leading to his cabin door. She’s shaking the braids out of her hair, though she’s doing a bad job of it. He watches as her fingers get tangled in the knots. She pulls, frustrated.
“Hey,” she says as he gets closer, getting to her feet. “I was thinking we could sneak out one more time before you leave tomorrow morning. I had to help out the Demeter cabin today. My deodorant is hanging on by a thread, and I’m starving.”
“I’m not leaving tomorrow.”
“I was kidding about the deodorant thing, Jason.”
“I’m serious. I’m not leaving for Camp Jupiter tomorrow.”
Piper frowns. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he says, “I just decided to stay a little longer.”
“All right,” she says after a beat. She crosses her arms. “How long?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Can you tell me why?”
“There’s some things I have left to do.”
“Okay.” She considers him. “You know, Rajan told me Laila got you to double over today.”
“She caught me by surprise.”
“Uh-huh. What’s really going on here, Jason?” she asks. “You haven’t been yourself in I don’t know how long, now.” She stops, then: “Is this about Percy?”
“Maybe?” He sighs. “I don’t know.” He’d been wondering the same thing.
She nods. “You want to talk about it?”
It’s been a month of the same question, exchanged between them. Do you want to talk about it? The words have gone tasteless and inert. Instead of ever going through with the offer, both of them have made a habit of the pantomime: declining just to dig up any other hurt they’ve buried, dancing around all the warning signs.
They both know the routine, even if it’s no secret neither of them like it.
Jason thinks of it as a game of chicken, wondering which of them is going to address it first. He knows it won’t be him. Jason lost his bravery somewhere in Rome, right where the hole to Tartarus closed over, as if it were never there.
He smiles. “No,” he says. “I’m fine.”
***
Percy comes back on a quiet night a few days later, which Jason knows because he’s sitting alone by the lake when he hears a shuffling sound behind him. He glances over his shoulder to find Percy right there.
He has a backpack slung over his shoulder. He isn’t limping this time, either, which Jason notes with relief.
Jason arrived as soon as Piper passed out on his floor. He made sure to put her on his bed before leaving.
He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. He could feel restlessness under his skin like a gentle electricity. He has been slouched against a rock in silence since.
That means it’s most likely the early hours of the morning, by now. The water is still and dark. The faintest starlight slips through the clouds, but it’s enough to make out the shape of Percy’s face. His eyes shimmer like water over jagged rocks.
Neither of them move, caught in each other’s gaze, which is ridiculous, as if either of them should have to fear anything from the other.
Still, Jason considers leaving. He doesn’t want to entertain the thought that Percy has completely forgiven him for any missteps yet. Piper has a point; sometimes it’s better to leave things alone.
Surprisingly, Percy says, “Hi,” before Jason can act on it, which is the last thing he was expecting.
“Hey.” Jason bites his lip and asks, “Are you just getting back?” before he can think better of it. He prays to every god and goddess he can name that it came out as casual as he hopes.
Absurdly, Percy blinks, as if Jason asking after him hadn’t been what he was expected either. “Yeah.”
Jason nods. He doesn’t say anything else.
He sits there for another five minutes, which quickly becomes ten which then becomes fifteen, and to be perfectly honest, there’s nothing Jason can say about it that doesn’t involve his heart rate, guessing as to what might happen next. He doesn’t turn to look at Percy once.
He’s starting to think Percy left when Percy settles down next to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here. Apart from perimeter check. It’s nice.”
“It’s quiet,” Jason agrees. “It’s easier to focus here, away from everything else.”
“You mean it’s easier to stop thinking.”
Jason’s gaze flicks in Percy’s direction. “Yeah.”
When they were dating, Piper would tell Jason he had a staring problem. He’d press her into his mattress, put his forehead against hers, and just breathe her in. He’d trace a finger down her cheek, brush them through the baby hairs at her neck.
Are you just gonna sit there, she asked, expressions of frustration and amusement clashing on her face, or actually do anything.
You’re impatient.
You’re too careful, she shot back, pulling his weight on top of her. Talking took a backseat after that.
Right now, Percy’s eyes are on the lake, the light softening the sharp angles to his face. In this moment, he isn’t Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, the Savior, the Praeter of the Twelfth Legion. He isn’t thinking about a life that comes after a war. He isn’t actively taking three steps away with every step Jason takes forward. He’s breathing in the night sky, the faint reflection of it across the water. He’s thinking about swimming in the stars.
Percy glances at Jason edgewise and asks, “Why do you look at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like—“ Percy shakes his head. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
Jason bites his lip. “I don’t want anything you don’t want to give.”
Percy barks out a small laugh. Jason’s face floods with heat. It probably wasn’t the best thing to say. “Sure.”
They fall into silence for a while. The air is cold this late at night. Or this early in the morning, actually. Jason closes his eyes and focuses on the breeze brushing against his bare arms.
“You know, this kind of reminds me of Lake Tritonis.”
Percy hums, amusement in his voice. “Really? Is it because both of them involve a Jason, or is it because one of us here is in real danger of getting shot down by a lightning bolt?”
Jason opens his eyes. “That’s the Alcyonian Lake.”
He watches Percy shrug. “If you say so.”
“I meant the circumstance was similar.”
Percy smiles. It doesn’t reach is eyes. “The undrinkable water? A land of sand?”
“No. More like—“ Jason searches for the right words—“after so long of being unsure of what to do, to finally find a way back to sea.”
They fall silent for a while, and Jason spends the time thinking of different ways to describe the color of Percy’s eyes. When Percy speaks up, Jason has thought of twelve. “Why are you really doing this, Jason?”
He shrugs. “We fought a Titan.”
“I know that. I was there.”
“But you just look—you seem—I don’t know.” Jason swallows. “Are you ever furious? Because I’m—I’m angry, all the time. I don’t want to pretend like I’m not anymore, but I don’t know how to stop either.”
For a fracture of a second, Percy’s gaze on him is like—actually, Jason has never seen anyone look at someone the way Percy looks at him now.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m angry, too. I’m so angry.”
They stay like that, gazes on each other.
What does Percy see, when he looks at Jason? A Japanese boy with a powerful dad who never learned how to step out of the spotlight? A string of unpleasant memories taken physical form? An ally? A partner?
A friend?
Percy gets to his feet. “One mission,” he says. “Eight weeks. I’m leaving tomorrow night.”
“One mission,” Jason repeats. “Eight weeks.”
“Are you in,” asks Percy, “or are you out?”
It'll put the campers behind on training, until they can arrange for other cabin leaders to take on sword practices. Reyna will silently hate him for not giving her a heads-up.
Eight weeks outside of camp. Eight weeks of constant movement.
Jason nods as a cloud shifts across the sky, casting them both in moonlight.