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Hey. There's something important I need to tell you. Can you come over sometime soon? Don't worry; I'm okay.
Thalia tries not to let herself catastrophize as she drives, but it's difficult. Typically, when Jason needs to talk, he'll just use his key: she'll find him in her kitchen banging a tray of macarons on the counter, and he'll get whatever it is out of his system while he bakes and leave the treats with her to distribute among the girls at the shelter.
He's nervous about something. Nervous about her reaction. He wanted to prepare in advance, be on his home turf.
"He is not dying," Thalia mutters to herself, her jaw clenched. "If he were dying, they would have found it when they were testing him last year. It's just the fibro. He's just too tired to come to you."
That line of thinking is better, but it still doesn't help much. Ever since his most recent knee surgery, Jason has been feeling sickly and under the weather; on bad days, he can't even stand to be touched without flinching, which throws most of Thalia's methods of comforting him out the window and leaves her helpless.
There's nothing she can do to fix his pain. She can't soothe it away with a kiss, the way she used to soothe his bumps and bruises when he was little. She wishes desperately that she could take it from him, suffer it so he doesn't have to; he's suffered more than enough already.
She pulls into his driveway, her heart fluttering in her throat like a terrified hummingbird, and parks Medusa behind Jason's blue minivan. There's a bumper sticker on the back.
If you can read this, you're too f**king close!
It probably came from Nico, whose PT cruiser is next to Percy's bike in the open garage. Of course they're both home; Nico doesn't have class on Fridays, and Percy's on the closing shift at Spectrum.
"Stop it," Thalia whispers to herself. "If it was something bad, he wouldn't have told you he's okay. Calm down."
(She doesn't quite believe herself. Jason's not exactly the type to let on when something's wrong; telling her not to worry is almost reflexive for him, at this point.)
If it is bad, he'll need her. That thought is enough to kick her into movement.
Her mind races as she gets out of the car and squelches through the mud to the front porch. It's a good thing she wore boots today, but she always forgets how much colder it is outside the city, and her black jean jacket is too thin for the salty air.
At least it gives her a reason to be trembling slightly as she rings the doorbell.
Percy's the one who answers. He's flushed, but he's smiling as he pulls open the glass-paneled door, which is a good sign. If something was wrong, he'd know, possibly even before Jason did.
"Shoes off so Nico doesn't kill me," he says cheerfully, dragging her into a hug once she's inside. "Your baby's just getting dressed. We were thinking we'd have coffee here, then hit the new Thai place downtown, if that's cool with you."
The embrace lingers for a second, and Thalia pretends she doesn't appreciate the warmth. She nods against Percy's shoulder, clears her throat and steps back.
"Are you making the coffee?"
"Of course I am." Percy heads for the kitchen while Thalia crouches down to unlace her boots, calling over his shoulder so she can still hear. "I'm only banned from touching the espresso machine before ten in the morning, and it's past noon. Mocha, right? Double shot, half and half?"
He says it casually, but it's proof that she's not hiding her tension. They're a lot alike in a lot of ways, including their caffeine habits; he knows it'll calm her down, but he also knows she'd rather not admit it.
"Sounds good," she answers, glad he can't see her smile.
She leaves her muddy boots by the door and pads into the living room on socked feet. The couch is empty. She can hear new wave music upstairs (probably Nico in his study), movement from Jason and Percy's bedroom just down the hall, and the hissing of steam from the kitchen.
She hugs herself. Without even thinking about it, her right hand covers the spot on her left bicep where she inked her love for her brother into her skin. They got their matching tattoos at the same time, and held hands the entire session.
It's okay. He's okay. He's fine.
The door to Jason's room opens. She hears the jangling of a collar and her baby brother's sweet, soft voice as he talks to the dog. She can't quite make out the words, but she can tell that she was right; he's nervous.
She wants to get up and run to him, throw her arms around him and pull him tight and tell him everything will be okay. She forces herself to let him gather whatever courage he needs to, to wait for him to come to her.
She sees Mrs. O'Leary first, her huge tongue lolling from her mouth as she trots into the living room entryway. Jason follows closely behind, using her to brace his weight.
No. To brace her weight.
That's a woman, standing shyly in the doorway with her dog at her side.
She's tall, with long blonde hair that falls in soft waves over her slouchy, cabled white cardigan. The skirt she's wearing is simple, but elegant, made of flowy pink fabric patterned in red flowers¹. Her feet are bare; the skirt looks handmade, but shoes are going to be a little trickier for her, as big as she is.
Her blue eyes, lined with navy blue liner and shimmering with pearlescent lilac shadow, are wide and lovely and terrified.
The instant relief is so strong that Thalia bursts out laughing without meaning to. Before her sister (holy shit, she has a sister) can get the wrong idea, Thalia springs to her feet and strides over and hugs her, as tightly as she can.
"Oh, honey, I thought— you scared the fuck out of me; I thought you were going to tell me something bad!"
All at once, her baby sibling releases like a popped balloon. Mostly, anyway; her arms stay where they are, locked tight around Thalia's waist.
"I don't know why I was nervous about how you'd react. Percy kept telling me it would be okay. I should have listened to him."
"Rubes, we've been over this. That's your dad's fault, not yours."
Thalia steps back and turns her head. Percy's in the opposite doorway, beaming from ear to ear, a mug in each hand. He looks proud, besotted and a little smug, and for once, she has absolutely no desire to question him.
"Rubes?"
"She goes by Ruby when she's in Girl Mode," Percy explains, venturing fully into the living room. "Two doubleshot mochas for my favorite pair of sisters." He sets the mugs on coasters to protect the coffee table, kisses Ruby's cheek and heads back into the kitchen, whistling something upbeat and in a major key.
"Which isn't all the time," Ruby adds, blushing. She fiddles with a strand of what must be a wig, twisting it around her finger like a twitterpated schoolgirl. "I'm trying out 'genderfluid' as a label, but I know for sure I'm some kind of nonbinary. I still have Jason days."
"But sometimes, you have Ruby days, too," Thalia adds, startled to hear herself choking up a little. She reaches up and gently cups Ruby's cheek. "Which is a beautiful name for my beautiful baby sister."
"Tell her the rest," Percy calls, over the sounds of making his own coffee.
Ruby takes Thalia's hand and leads them to the couch, Mrs. O'Leary following obediently beside her.
Her eyes are misty. Thalia's heart thuds in her chest at the open emotion.
"Actually, Ruby's my middle name. My first name is Renée, after the best mom a girl could ever ask for."
The world stops spinning. All that exists is their hands, squeezing tight.
Up until this moment, Thalia has mostly heard that name spoken in anger. Thalia Renée, are you listening to me?
This time, this one single utterance, erases all of those memories and leaves behind nothing but joy.
She breaks down sobbing, beyond any words more complex than I love you, thank you, I'm so happy for you. Ruby indulges all of it, laughing and trembling from what must be all the left-over adrenaline, and never loosens her grip.
Mrs. O'Leary, bless her, even puts her enormous paw in Thalia's lap as though to console her. Not that she needs consolation; it's just that an emotion this huge can't help but spill over.
The best mom a girl could ever ask for.
"I guess I must have done a decent job," she sniffs after a few minutes, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. "I have a pretty fucking kickass daughter, anyway."
Ruby (it suits her; elegant and ladylike and vibrant) just beams back at her, still holding her hand.
"Do you remember what you told me when I got the scar on my lip?"
Thalia thinks back to the memory. At the time, it was the most terrified she'd ever been— mopping up the blood, holding her little sibling tight to her chest as the wails hurt her ears and shattered her heart into powder, praying it wasn't as bad as it looked and all the while desperately trying to keep her voice calm and comforting.
"I called you brave," she answers, running her thumb over Ruby's wrist. "You didn't know what it meant."
"So you explained that being brave is when you're really scared, but you try your hardest anyway," Ruby murmurs. "It seems kind of weird, but that's one of my happiest memories from when I was little. I was scared and it hurt, but you were right there, and you held me and cleaned me up and made everything okay again. That was the part that stuck with me."
"You were brave," Thalia insists, smiling— it does sound a little weird, but she gets it. "You always have been."
"Because you modeled it for me," Ruby tells her, smiling back. She's wearing light, subtle pink lipstick; Thalia missed it until now, as the winter sun peeks out from behind a cloud and makes the color shimmer. "I think I'm brave enough to admit this in the first place because of you. You taught me about courage."
"Ruby," Thalia whispers for the second time. It's surprisingly comfortable; like she's somehow always known. "Sweetheart, you're the most courageous person I've ever met, but all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy."
That seems to surprise her sister. A second later, Ruby laughs and shakes her head, as if to say of course.
"I'm really, really happy, Taya." She leans in, resting her head on Thalia's shoulder. "I think part of me has always wanted this, I just never let myself acknowledge it because it didn't feel safe. I feel safe now. More importantly, I feel free. I don't have to pretend I don't want it anymore."
"And it's amazing to see," Percy sighs, back in the kitchen doorway. "I swear I could watch her get dressed and put on makeup for, like, a year straight, and I'd never get bored."
He has Ruby's Columbia mug in his hands, and he's looking at her like it's the first time he's ever seen a beautiful woman— face red, eyes wide and captivated; exactly, in Thalia's opinion, as he should. As any of Ruby's partners should, really, but especially her primary.
Ruby giggles, and it's such a sweet, uninhibited sound that Thalia can't help but follow suit.
"You're ridiculous and I love it. And you."
"I know." Percy sighs again, dreamily, and takes a seat in an old leather armchair Nico usually favors. "Don't mind me; I'm just basking in your glow."
"He does that a lot," Ruby admits, her smile going shy and sweet again. "Like I said. Ridiculous."
"Proudly, enthusiastically, delightedly and very justifiably ridiculous," Percy adds, his eyes sparkling and never leaving Ruby's face as he lifts his mug and blows across it. "Baby, have you seen you? You're incredible and I'm going to be ridiculous about it forever, so you may as well get used to it."
He's a little more overt, but the two of them really do match each other's mile-wide romantic streaks. Sure, there have been times when Thalia wanted to slug Percy in the nuts for making her little sibling cry, but he's more than made up for it by now.
She'd have to actively be ignoring them to miss how much they adore each other. They don't always get it right, but they always try again, and the next failure is always a little less devastating; a little more like necessary healing.
Grudgingly, Thalia realizes that she accepted Percy a long time ago.
Not that he has to know that.