Work Text:
The campfire flickered brightly. Percy and Will sat at the fire. The chatter of camp life had finally died down and they were alone, lost in their own thoughts as they stared at the flames.
It was August 18th. Percy's birthday, and what a terrible, loathsome day it was. Percy hated his birthday. He had stopped liking it years ago. To him there was nothing joyous about a day so many children died.
Will looked up and shot Percy a hateful glare. Percy couldn't blame him, he was the reason Will's siblings were dead. The reason Will had to start being head healer at 12. And even, for a while, the reason Nico wouldn't consider looking at Will as anything other than a friend. Will must loath him. He had the right to.
Will looked back at the flickering flames, he furrowed his brow in thought, trying to remember something long forgotten. "It's your fault, Percy." He said quietly, "It's your fault I can't remember Michael's face."
The statement sat there between them. Percy blinked. The utterance unexpected. Laced with pain and hatred. "I know," Percy responded, "I'm also the reason you never knew Lee. You would've liked him."
"And here I am. Left in his wake." Will was sad. Percy hadn't expected that. "Left to pick up the pieces of my cabin, three years later." Cabin seven hadn't been the same since the battle of Manhattan. Will's words twisted the knife that had been with Percy since he let all his soldiers die.
Percy looked over at Will. His blue eyes were wet with tears. A pit formed in his stomach. "I'm sorry." Was all he could manage to say.
"Sorry?" Will let out a huff, like sorry would do anything now, "Now you're sorry?" His fists clenched into balls. "It's your fault Michael is dead and you're only sorry now?" Will let out a harsh laugh.
"I know I know, it's stupid. It doesn't change anything I've done Will." Hot tears burned in Percy's eyes. "I know it's my fault."
This only made Will more angry, as though Percy accepting any fault was the real issue. He let out an angry sob. Percy hesitantly walked over and knelt beside him.
"Don't come near me." Will snapped, turning away. Percy looked at him and saw the same scared twelve year old rushing to help all of his dying patients. "Your birth led to the war." Will sobbed.
Percy gulped and for a second, just a second, he saw himself. Percy saw himself crying because he couldn't save everyone. Percy saw himself, angry and confused. Percy saw Will for what he truly was. Some fucked up reflection of Percy.
All the loathing Percy could hear in his voice wasn't for Percy, it was for Will, for himself. All the tears weren't because of Percy but were because of himself. Because Will Solace wasn't able to save everyone.
"It wasn't your fault Will." Percy looked at Will with gentler eyes now, "It's not your fault you couldn't save everyone. You were twelve years old in an impossible situation."
Suddenly Will stopped shaking. He looked at Percy. "I hate you," he spat, but there was no malice behind the words.
"Me too." Percy sighed. "I've spent years angry with myself because I couldn't save everyone."
"Me too…" Will admits. There was a brief silence. And then, "I forgive you."
"You don't have to say that."
"But I do." Will said, "I forgive you." He wore a slight smile on his face, an acknowledgment that though they could never be friends that maybe they didn't have to be enemies.
"I forgive you too," said Percy. Percy got up and sat next to Will. And they both stared into the fire. Lost again in silent thoughts.