Chapter Text
Chris
Chris, I can hear you
I'm coming, just stay where you are
Chris
Chris.
"Chris," Clarisse's voice was soft - nothing like how she addressed the other campers. She was known for being loud and harsh, her voice slightly deeper than average, scratchy, hoarse from shouting constantly. But for Chris, that changed. The warrior turned soft and sweet, her voice just for him. Only she knew even half of what he'd been through in that Labyrinth, she'd only been there a couple of months at most - but he'd not only been there for much, much longer, but his mind had been twisted by Kronos, and worse, by Luke.
Man, Clarisse hated that dickhead. Seriously, he had shown her how to fight with a sword (considering Hedge had only wielded a bludgeon on their way to camp) and he was a good sport in capture the flag. Nobody else took ultimate defeat like he did.
It had all been on elaborate lie, and if she had anything to say about it, Clarisse wanted to be the one to have his head on a spike to parade around camp and stick in front of Ares Cabin. Not to mention the other traitors - a few half-bloods who had left camp, and few that remained under cover. She'd pulverise every traitor here, the liars. Disgusting and filthy, just like peace.
Except when Chris was there. With him, peace didn't seem so bad. You know, he had it tough, and he woke up with nightmares. Even after Mr D had cured him of his madness, Chris was traumatised, so was Clarisse. Hey, most of the kids here had issues if they'd been at camp for at least one summer, if that. Many had bad memories from before camp. Annabeth from Athena Cabin had pretty bad childhood trauma with the whole running away thing. Then there was that kid that joined a couple years back in Demeter cabin, she had not only the difficulties of being a demi-god but she had also come out as trans to pretty conservative parents, poor girl. And that boy from the winter before. Nico Di Angelo - a part of Clarisse wish he'd stayed, to be honest. He seemed... Cool. Like, if she could just tell him how much Percy Jackson sucked, he'd be amazing on her team for capture the flag. She could just sense it. He had this weird foreboding look in his eyes.
But Chris, he was relatively normal before the Labyrinth. He grew up alright, she supposed. Aside from going through those trials of finding out your parent is a literal God, and having to deal with monsters, well, he seemed... Normal. Obviously he wasn't, something had happened to let Luke into his head, but then again, Luke had seemed normal too. Then, he went missing. Then Clarisse had ventured down into that newly opened passage by stupid dumb Jackson and Chase and their stupid dumb group, and she'd found him; a shell of the boy he had been. Curled up in a damp corner, just about skin and bone, lips dry and cracked, tears red, puffy and all cried out. He was mumbling to himself, mostly gibberish, rocking himself back and forth as he clung to his badly grazed knees with skeletal hands.
Clarisse rarely outwardly felt compassion and, well, if she were honest, sorrow and guilt, but seeing him like that made her - almost - cry.
She wondered if she'd have felt the same about seing Percy like that.
Maybe she would've laughed instead.
Then again, maybe it was simply the empathy. She herself was lost - low on ambrosia and nectar, low on water and rations too. She was giving up hope and so close to giving up, curling into a ball and letting the maze consume her. But seeing Chris had given her a bit of hope. It wasn't all for nothing, and if she wasn't alone, there had to be some exits. It took them probably another week to find the exit, but that didn't matter.
What mattered was that they were alive.
"Chris, hey, I'm here," the tall brunette whispered, combing the dark hair from Chris' eyes as he sat up from bed in a cold sweat, shivering and looking at her desperately, intense gleam in his eyes. At least he didn't look entirely dead inside. He did seem to be getting better, or, at very least, he wasn't deteriorating into a zombie anymore. She really, really wanted him to get better, Gods, please let him get better.
Her recent offerings to her dad had also been accompanied by offerings to Mr D, which felt very strange, and now to Apollo, praying that just some sort of miracle would happen.
But, as much as it pained her to say, Luke had been right about one thing. The Gods were selfish, they operated on a different moral system. Clarisse and Chris wouldn't be getting much more help from them for a while, what with the whole preparing for imminent doom and stuff.
So, she'd do the work herself. She'd sleep on the floor, one hand in Chris', prepared to wake up if he did. To comfort him, to get him water, or just to be a trustworthy face to look at.
Clarisse wasn't Luke - they both knew she'd never send anyone down to the Labyrinth. Not just Chris - anyone at camp. Hades, she didn't even wish that shit on prissy toilet head Percy Jackson. If she couldn't handle it, he'd die immediately, or go more insane than Chris did.
"Wanna take a walk outside, get some fresh air?"
Chris nodded, shifting the blankets out of the way and swinging his legs to the edge of the bed almost silently, helping Clarisse from the floor. They were a strange pair indeed - a bulky, tall girl in a tank top and shorts, and a lanky, thin guy in a similar getup, both shuffling around at 3am, the former like some sort of watchdog and the latter looking half dead. Funny pair or not though, Clarisse wouldn't rather be seen with anyone else by bloodthirsty patrol harpies.
"We'll go stargazing. Might see Zoë up there somewhere."
"Z...zoë."
"Well done."
Small victories, and others would find them annoying. But one word, a name, a face he wouldn't be able to picture, a hero from the side he had gone mad trying to fight... Saying it with the feeling that he did, well, Ares kids aren't all about brutally murdering their enemies. Sometimes they can enjoy seeing someone overcome more personal demons. Sometimes Clarisse La Rue enjoys watching Chris Rodriguez win a battle in his head.