Work Text:
A Ghost Of The Past
Percy hated feeling as lost as he did now.
With the war over, he felt suffocated. Reminders of all he had lost haunting him at every corner he turned.
The despair of what had happened clung to him and every whisper and voice at the back of his mind never failed to remind him that he had failed.
Failed to protect the ones he loved most.
Failed see what was right in front of him until it was too late.
The others might celebrate and get drunk on their victory against the titans but he couldn’t bring himself to feel the joy that meant he had succeeded. They hailed him as a hero. A Saviour.
But he couldn’t help but feel the guilt that washed over him in waves every time someone called as such.
A hero wouldn't be tricked twice costing the life of his friends. Somedays he wished he had died alongside them. But then again did he deserve the freedom of all responsibility. It would have been so selfish of him to leave everyone here to fight a war on their own when he can help.
So, he did his best to live. To live and fight for those who still lived and breathed. He fought for their freedom as much as his. He knew he was doing the right thing.
Then why did it hurt so much when he handed Luke the knife that ended his life? Why did his knees tremble and buckle as he watched the light leave his crystal blue eyes with those cursed flakes of gold? Why did tears stream down his face as he kneeled over the body of his supposed enemy when he cried silently only in the solace of the night when his best friend took a fatal hit for him?
So many unanswered questions plagued his mind. It didn’t help that he stayed at the camp where he expected to see the bright living faces of his fallen family only to be harshly pulled back to reality.
He had ignored the call for as long as he could. He'd stare at it longingly before forcing himself to turn his back on it. It was a miracle he hadn’t snapped yet.
Slam!
Whack!
“Keep your head in the game, Prissy,” Clarisse barked before charging at him again.
He had been distracted. He did that a lot these days. Clarisse’s patience for his lack of attention was clearly wearing thin. He clumsily dodged her spear and half-heartedly struck a blow which she easily blocked.
“If you’d just focus more on your training, Jackson then maybe we wouldn’t have had to burn your best friend’s shroud,” she snapped angrily.
That was a low blow.
Like she had realized that too, her eyes widened, and she tried to say something but Percy gave her no chance as he thrusted his sword forward.
Anger erupted in Percy when he heard those words spoken carelessly.
Whap!
His anger wasn’t even directed at Clarisse or any of the campers.
Splat!
Or the gods.
Whack!
He was angry at himself. Angry at how true those words are. Within a minute, he had disarmed Clarisse and was panting as his sword pointed at her undefended chest.
Abruptly, he dropped his sword, knowing it would return to him eventually. He turned and ignoring the calls of his friends telling him to wait, he ran. Tears brimmed on the surface of his eyes. Gods, when did he become so emotional over the smallest things?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Percy’s ear. His cold breath tickling his ear.
Percy ignored the ghost over his shoulder in favour of running faster and wiped his tears with the sleave of his shirt.
“She died because I caused the war to begin with,” the voice whispered again. “I so sorry, Percy.”
“Shut up,” Percy harshly whispered back, not sparing the ghost a glance. He had slowed down to a jog. “They have forgiven you. I know she forgave you,” he mumbled knowing his words would reach the spirit’s ears no matter how softly he spoke.
“I know I forgive you.” A long time ago.
Just as he’d muttered those last words, a cold body slammed into the sea prince, knocking out his breath as he tried to keep standing.
“Thank you,” he spoke softly.
As he pulled back, Percy found himself looking at the clear blue staring back at his sea-green. The scar marking the other’s translucent face unmistakable as anyone else’s.
“Are you ever going to go back?”
Percy stopped what he was doing. The kelp was going to be fried any way. His eyes found the bearded face of his godly father.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered. “I go back every other week.”
Poseidon gave him withered look. “I love having you here, son. It makes me happy that I can be a part of your life where my brother cannot see.” That was one of the reasons Percy had followed the call of the sea and made his new home a bit farther away from Atlantis underwater.
Percy just raised an eyebrow, “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
“Perseus, I worry you are only running from your problems.”
Percy looked down at his kelp salad and laughed humorlessly. “Dad I know you care but please, I cannot bear to live there again,” he pleaded.
The lord of the seas sighed tiredly. “I understand, Percy. But I’m sure your friends would like to see you for more than ten minutes every other week.”
Percy only nodded and averted his gaze as his father flashed away. Percy bit his lip anxiously and tried not to dwell on that conversation.
“He’s right, you know.”
The son of Poseidon did not need to look up to see who had spoken. It was rare for him to be completely alone nowadays no matter what the others think.
“That's funny. I didn’t think I would ever live to see you of all people agreeing with a god,” he retorted.
“Well, I would never have agreed with a god in my lifetime. But I’m not exactly living right now,” he said with a deadpan.
Percy slightly snorted. “Don’t change the subject,” Luke said with a roll of his eyes. “The only time you leave this underwater house is when visit Atlantis once a month, stay at camp for a full of ten minutes to see if your help is needed and visit your mortal parents the same day.”
“Your point being...?”
“You’re isolating yourself, Percy.”
Percy served his freshly made salad on the dish and looked up to see Luke’s worried gaze on him. Percy hated it. Luke had been with him long enough for him to be considered something more than a rival or a reformed enemy. Something close to a friend but perhaps more like a confidant. It could have something to do with no one else being able to see Luke too.
The only other person who would have been able to see Luke were the gods or Nico but he always disappeared when they showed up. He didn’t know where to and didn’t think he would get an answer if he asked.
Sometimes he wondered if Luke was just a figment of his imagination. A piece of his crazy messed up head. The only thing that convinced him that he was not hallucinating was when he felt Luke’s touch.
“Percy,” Luke repeated. “I think you’re isolating yourself.”
“How could I be isolated when I have you?” the sea prince protested and looked down at his meal.
He couldn’t see but he knew Luke was frowning in disapproval right then. A cold hand touched the side of his face and forced him to look into the other’s intense blue eyes.
“Perce, I’ll always be here,” he whispered. “Even after death.”
“But why?” the son of the sea asked desperately. “Why are you here? Why am I the only one who can see you? I killed you.”
“I don’t know why you can see me. But you didn’t kill me. I was the who ended my life. Maybe it's because your pretty eyes were the last ones I saw.”
So lost in his thoughts, Percy didn’t see the way Luke looked at him fondly. “But you could stay in Elysium, in paradise or...or be reborn in a life that is no way related to the gods where you let go of everything. And yet, you choose to be stuck with me till my ultimate demise. Why?”
Luke let go of Percy and looked away, his eyes seeming faraway gathering his thoughts. Somehow, Percy found himself missing his touch no matter that it was cold like the dead.
Luke spoke at last, “Percy, I have never met someone with a bigger heart than yours. If anything, you are stuck with me because I will never be half the person you are.”
He squeezed Percy’s hand and smiled softly. Percy couldn’t help but smile back. Although he did not miss the fact that Luke never answered his question.
All those titans and gods he defeated. It felt so anticlimactic to come to the end of his life now because of a small crowd of hydras. His usual visit to Camp had turned into a battle. His last battle, it seemed now. He had to get them time. So, being the child of a Big Three, he baited the monsters into following him. He may be harder to burn than most but enough fire power of all the heads of a hydra had charred his left arm. At least he killed it before collapsing in a fit of exhaustion.
His mind was in a buzz. He could feel the blood guzzling out of his side yet sort of felt numb to the pain. He could see someone leaning over him, calling his name through his hazy eyes but he could only hear muffled sounds. They seem so far.
Maybe it's for the best. Living till he was twenty-four in itself seemed like a miracle when you were a demigod.
Slowly, the haze in his eyes became darker and darker until the world went black. “Percy...”
“Percy open your eyes, it’s okay,” the soft familiar voice whispered.
So, he did, he opened his eyes slowly at first. There was something different, he could sense it. Somehow, he felt lighter.
“Ah, that could be because you don’t have a lot of weight to be carrying around anymore,” Percy’s sight cleared a bit and he could see the handsome features of a blond man with a scar running down his eye.
Percy groaned, “Did I...?”
“Yup, you said that out loud.”
“Am I dead?” he asked in wonder.
“You look pretty dead to me,” Luke said with a slight smirk. But something in his eyes looked sad.
He was right. Percy looked down to see that his body was limp against the ground with campers surrounding it. He was hovering over it, a spirit translucent like Luke.
The noises around him were a bit muffled. He could see a couple other ghosts lingering around, peeping in and seeing the commotion.
“Two souls? Looks like one of you is overdue,” a smooth angelic voice said from above them.
Percy and Luke both looked up. A look of surprise on Percy’s face and one of silent resignation on Luke’s. The god was enchanting. Percy could have mistaken him for Eros, God of love.
“Death,” Luke stated. “You’re death.”
“Yes, I am,” the god replied. “And you, Luke Castellan are an escaped soul.”
“You escaped the underworld? But why?” Percy asked lost on why somebody would leave Elysium and haunt him instead.
“Percy I-they told me, I got Elysium,” Luke started. “I did horrible things. I betrayed the ones I considered family. When I got there, I expected Punishment instead I got paradise. I came back because I expected you to be cursing my name and celebrating your victory. But you weren’t. You mourning me, not just me but every half-blood who fell. You looked like you were carrying the world on your shoulders. You helped do the right thing in the end, Percy. I wanted to do something for you too.” He stepped closer and looked into swirling green eyes.
“You know what somewhere between that, I realized I thought of you as something more than a friend.”
Percy smiled at the uncertainty he saw in Luke’s eyes and closed the distance between and kissed him. It was so good and right. He never felt like this when Calypso or Annabeth kissed him.
“I do too,” he whispered and a warm feeling came over him when Luke absolutely beamed at him.
“I don’t have all day now. You can carry on with this later,” a bored looking god of death announced and summoned their souls to be taken to the Underworld entrance.
The End