#c marcus

Marcus stared blankly at his ceiling, unable to bring himself to do much else. It was another day where his mental state was at a particularly low point. He had been having these days much more frequently as of late. But what could he do? He had isolated himself from everyone who ever loved him, abandoned his accomplished career, and was slowly being driven to total madness. And worst of all, it was one of the people in this world who should have had his back no matter what that brought him to this state. 

A gnawing sensation grew in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t tell if it was due to the pain of remembering or the fact that he hadn’t eaten in 36 hours. Probably the latter, he figured. He managed to drag himself out of bed and take a look at what was in his fridge, which wasn’t much. He hadn’t been to the store in weeks. He decided something had to change. His changes may grow to kill him eventually, but he at least wouldn’t allow himself to be miserable on the way out. 

A curious search yielded few viable results, but one looked promising. A clinical psychologist right here in Wicked’s Rest. He wouldn’t have to go far, and they’d be more likely to be sympathetic to concerns that pertain more to the supernatural. Not that he’d jump right in with “I’m actually a seal person and someone here stole my pelt. Also I’m slowly dying without it.” Best not to set off any alarm bells until he could show her he wasn’t actually a crazy person. He took a look at her page and was impressed enough with her credentials to try and book an appointment. 

And so, his appointment with Dr. Xóchitl Reyes was booked.

She supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised when she actually got referrals and her schedule filled up. It was good, it was even necessary if Xóchitl wanted to make a living. She might’ve had a trust fund, but she didn’t want to touch that unless necessary. The fewer questions her moms asked, the better. She didn’t especially relish the fact that she was lying to them, even in the smallest bit, but it would have to do, if she wanted them to believe that she was better.

Her appointment for today was with Marcus Fremont, a lighthouse keeper - his first appointment, he hadn’t been a referral from a past psychologist - which didn’t especially matter one way or the other, but having people who were brand new was something of a thrill for Xóchitl, even if she wouldn’t always fully admit it.

She’d set out the white noise machine outside of her office, before going back in and grabbing a pad of paper - she’d transfer notes over to the computer later on, but Xóchitl figured it was more personal if she wasn’t partially hidden behind a screen. She heard a knock on the door and went over to open it, offering her most reassuring smile. “Marcus, I presume? You can come right in, and sit wherever is most comfortable for you.”

Marcus couldn’t really explain it, but he was feeling very nervous going into his appointment. He hadn’t really opened up to anybody fully in a very long time. It didn’t help that many of the things that were troubling him weren’t exactly “first meeting” discussion topics. He knew he had to be completely vulnerable, but figured it would be best to hold off on any topics related to the supernatural. 

Instead, he did acknowledge that he was having many symptoms of depression. If he could find a way to cope mentally, at least clear his mind, he’d be in a better position to reclaim what was rightfully his. 

He took a seat down on the couch and looked over at the therapist. She had a kind and welcoming expression that did put him at ease. Maybe he’d be able to make some progress with her after all. After he was seated, she took a seat across from him with a pad of paper. He appreciated the more personal approach, finding it very sterile and impersonal whenever a therapist or doctor just kept their eyes glued to a computer screen while he tried to ask them for help. 

“So,” Marcus started, not wanting there to be too much silence in the interaction. He was paying by the hour after all. “Where should we start?”

“I’d just want you to get comfortable here, first.” That was how these things were supposed to start, anyhow. Xóchitl wasn’t going to be able to do a whole lot of good at giving people therapy if they wanted to run screaming from her office. She’d had enough personal experience with therapists, both good and bad, to know that much.

“Anything you want to tell me about why you’re here, if you’ve seen psychologists in the past, or anything like that. Think of it like… a conversation, of sorts.” Xóchitl winced internally at how cliched she felt as though she sounded. Even though she was fairly certain that it was a case of her being overly critical of herself, but still – being over-done on a first session was also not so good.

She wrote the date down on her notepad, before looking back up. “Also, feel free to call me whatever is most comfortable for you - you don’t need to stick with the ‘doctor’ thing if you don’t want, first name is fine, too.”

A conversation certainly sounded more pleasant than a therapy session. Even though Marcus knew that was what he was here for, it was nice to feel comfortable and open to talking about what was going on in his life. 

“Well, first of all it’s nice to meet you, Xóchitl, and thank you for making me feel at home a little. I’ve never seen a psychologist or a therapist before, but usually my doctor visits are very ‘down to business’”, he said with a smile. He looked up at her and saw she was at full attention, maintaining eye contact. 

“I guess the main reason why I’m here is to help manage symptoms of depression. The usual textbook stuff: difficulty focusing, lack of energy, overall depressed mood, no passion, yada yada yada,” he continued. He wanted to make her aware of what was going on, but still wanted to have a tough and rocky external attitude about it since that was the type of attitude expected of a military man. “It’s really starting to impact my life in a big way. I have important things to do, and I just can’t bring myself to do them at all. I’ve tried meditation and doing things I enjoy to clear my head. Only problem is, even the things that I enjoy are hard to do now. So I was wondering if you had any other advice to help get me out of this hole, so to speak”. It was definitely the most vulnerable he had been with someone since he left the ship. Nobody else in the town really knew what was going on with him, although he was sure his changes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“It’s nice to meet you too, and oh - of course.” Xóchitl crossed her legs, perhaps in some sort of vague attempt to appear more professional - not that she didn’t think she already was, as-is, but it never hurt to add another layer of professionalism, all while making sure that she didn’t seem too aloof. All of that had to be possible. Even if it wasn’t, she’d make it so.

“I mean, you’re paying for this, and I want it to be your thing. I don’t think it’s very smart of a psychologist to force their beliefs on the people who are coming to see them.” She’d thrown at least one fit when her parents had taken her to a less-than-fabulous one back in Boston. Which Xóchitl figured was a warranted fit, because the woman hadn’t even had any toys in her office, and she was supposed to have worked with children.

“Of course.” Xóchitl’s expression softened as she forced herselfout of her thoughts of the past, and back into the present. She wasn’t going to help anybody if she just kept thinking all about her past and herself. Though she was acutely aware that perhaps sometime between Mackenzie dying and her getting her psych degree she’d stopped entirely hyperfocusing on the people around her (which made the possibility of losing them easier, maybe), she was aware enough to not focus on herself during sessions. After all, the less that people knew about her, the better. “I think talking about it would be the best place to start - to see the foundation of what you know and feel, and we can build up from there.” She let her gaze float off for a moment before she refocused. “Also, this is just the first meeting - we’re not going to figure everything out now, but we can start to work towards you feeling better about yourself. How’s that sound?”

Marcus supposed that made sense. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and no mind was fixed in an hour. Still, he was hoping to get some progress done today. He nodded understandingly at Xochitl and continued. 

“Of course, therapy takes time, that’s what everybody always seems to say. I’m just new to this, so not really sure how any of it works.”

That was mostly true. He did have a previous experience with a navy psychologist who was also former military. However, the two of them hadn’t gotten along together very well. Their miracle cure for experiencing trauma and near death was to “take the experience as a new way to appreciate life”. Just drink the experience away and try to muffle the bad times with artificial and shallow good times. Surprisingly, that method didn’t seem to help much. And since then, Marcus had a bit of hesitation when it came to trusting future therapists. 

“So, any questions you want to ask me to get started?”

“Well, if you were an expert in how it all worked, I might well be out of a job, so forgive me if I’m at least a bit pleased with the fact that you’re somewhat in the dark about all of this.” Xóchitl raised an eyebrow. 

Questions to get started. She knew his name, knew a little bit about his job, but there was always more to find out about that, wasn’t there.

“I’d like to know why you chose your job - if that was something you’d been wanting since childhood, or if you somehow happened upon it… I find that knowing the whys when we can know them can lead us to help figuring out our other whys.” Xóchitl settled back against her chair. “I think a good many things are rooted in our pasts - or at least that’s what some textbooks say - but regardless, I find discussing that helps, and then we can figure out together if struggles are rooted in past, present, or somewhere in between.”

Marcus understood her desire to ask about why he chose his occupation, after all what someone chooses to do for a living can tell you a lot about who they are as a person. 

“I chose the Navy because I felt a calling to serve my country. I’ve always loved the water, felt at home in it. So I figured the Navy was the best branch for me to enter into. As for why I chose to man the lighthouse once I got to town, it just seemed like a good fit.” Marcus glanced up to find the woman listening but not offering much of a reaction one way or another. He felt he was good at reading people, so somebody keeping a neutral expression to remain unreadable bothered him a bit. “I knew a lot about ships, relied on the assistance of lighthouses more than once. I’m a strong swimmer in case anybody needed rescuing, too. Plus, the position was available not long after I came to town, seemed like a no-brainer.” 

Marcus felt that his childhood was very nice. He had a wealthy, he almost dared to say privileged, upbringing. His parents were very supportive of everything he wanted to do, even if that meant him risking death in foreign waters. They guided him along through his identity as a selkie, and gave him all of the best advice he could have asked for. If only he had taken that advice more seriously. 

Instead, Marcus figured his problems are a mix of past and present. His present was messed up because of somebody from his past. Who is now back in his present. Was “the present” just right this minute, or the last few months? Because that’s when everything really started to go downhill. 

“I’d say the problem is more rooted in the present, but who knows? Maybe it’s a combination of things”

“I don’t know if I’d call my love for the water something that I feel at home in, but that makes a lot of sense, then, to choose somewhere that you’d always feel sort of close to home, no matter where you were.” She offered him a slight smile, finally, before nodding about the lighthouse choice. “I’m not sure how much I believe in fate, but it seems as though perhaps you were meant to have that position at the lighthouse.” She couldn’t believe in fate too much, because that would’ve meant that her friend was fated to die, or something, and the thought of that was quite nearly unbearable.  Xóchitl nodded. “Was it a steep learning curve? The lighthouse, I mean.”

Another nod, another attempt at a comforting smile in his next comment. “If things have only shifted more recently, then that’d make sense. Are you still enjoying your job at the lighthouse, or does it leave something to be desired, does it feel like you aren’t appreciated…” Xóchitl held up her hand, “I’m not being reductive when I ask that, just so you know, I am just trying to explore as many avenues and options as are possible.”

Marcus listened carefully to the woman in front of him, taking in what she had to say. Was it fate that he ended up working at a lighthouse? He remembered his youth, remembered the lighthouse by his old home used to be his favorite place to go. He even befriended the keeper of that lighthouse as well, who only showed him kindness. It could very well be that when he came to Wicked’s Rest he was pulled towards it in some way, but he wasn’t sure if he would call it fate. He didn’t really believe in that sort of thing. 

“Not exactly. A lot of it is automated now so it’s mostly maintenance related duties. Thanks to my time in the military working on ships, I’m already pretty mechanically minded. Learning my duties came pretty naturally.”

He thought about his job at the lighthouse a bit more carefully. He was sure the ships and their captains were very thankful to him, but those people often weren’t the town’s residents. He had made a few friends in town, and had some very strange interactions with others. He was a bit irked that people kept greeting him with annoyance whenever he tried to stop somebody from littering on the beach. He considered keeping the beaches and their waters clean as part of his duties, and took it very seriously. Other than that, however, he really didn’t have any major complaints about his job. 

“I think my job is great, I’m fine where I’m at. I guess it’s more that I’ve had a recent touch of heartbreak. There was this man that I knew, thought he was the love of my life. Turns out, major sociopath. And I don’t mean that in a casual sense, I mean you might be able to give him an actual diagnosis. So I’ve been struggling with that betrayal and the sense of cynicism it’s given me. I don’t know, the world just seems a lot more…gray now, if that makes sense?”

“Shows what I know,” she laughed, doing some sort of vague attempt to be somewhat self-deprecating, even if only barely. A little bit of something was better than nothing at all. “Well, sounds like you found a good place. Goodness knows I’m not the most mechanically minded. I think I can change a tire, if, like, pressured, but otherwise, not a strong suit.” Xóchitl offered him another hopefully reassuring smile.

“Oh. Yes, that does make a good deal of sense.” She pondered her words carefully. “Big events, if they’re romantic-linked or anything else, can easily have an effect on the way that we see the world. Sometimes in a positive way, and other times, not so much.” Xóchitl nodded. “Before, with him, things seemed more clear? Both personally and in your view of the world?”

Marcus gave a warm smile in return to his therapist remarking her lack of mechanical expertise. It wasn’t easy to understand a machine, and it definitely wasn’t easy to understand a piece of machinery as large as a massive ship or lighthouse. They did have their own engineers in the Navy, but emergencies happened and sometimes the rest of the crew needed to step up and understand how to do some of the more basic tasks needed. He was thankful that he could now learn how to fix anything and understand how it worked pretty quickly, unless it had anything to do with computers. 

“I think it’s a bit more pervasive than that. Things were more clear, sure. But it was like I was living in a completely different reality. One where I was loved, where I was the most important thing in somebody’s life. Only to find out I was nothing more than a means to an end for him. Now, I guess you could say I’m lost.”

He was a bit surprised, he hadn’t meant to unload quite that much. But once he started talking he just sort of kept going. It was nice to be able to get it all out, but he was a bit embarrassed about being vulnerable with this woman he had only just met. 

Marcus cleared his throat, and sat forward a bit.  “Honestly, it’s mostly that as the issue. But it’s also just in general not feeling like myself anymore.” 

She couldn’t help but wince at the comment about being a ‘means to an end.’ And to that, Xóchitl also offered him a compassionate, genuine smile. Nothing too big – and also nothing that was too patronizing – or at least so she hoped. She knew that therapy, as a whole, was something that could easily come off as patronizing and so she always made as much of an effort as was possible to not have that happen.

“Well, after that, I think I’d be more surprised if you weren’t lost.” She raised an eyebrow. “Though of all the ways to end up lost, realizing that you were someone’s means to an end is never ever a good way for that to happen.”

This didn’t seem like it would be a short partnership of therapy, that much she could already tell – and Xóchitl wasn’t opposed to that at all. It would have been a pretty terrible method of being a therapist if she only wanted short-term clients.

“Well, I can’t promise a cure because that’d be false advertising and I don’t believe in curing people, but I can promise that we’ll work through this, and that I have no intentions of leaving you hanging. Does that work for you as a deal? There’s nothing I need or want you to promise to me other than to try.”

The sympathy that the therapist was showing Marcus was very much appreciated, as she was the first person he had told everything to. The reassurance that he was the victim and hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve it was also welcome. As for not promising a cure, Marcus hadn’t expected that. The cure wouldn’t come until the problem itself went away, and he knew that would likely be some time still. 

“I can absolutely try. Until I get better I won’t give anything other than my absolute best. This is something that’s very important to me.”

Another quiet night, Marcus thought to himself. Normally a quiet night along the shore would be considered a good thing, but this town had taught him that quiet almost certainly means trouble. And trouble always seemed to find its way to Marcus one way or another. No ships out at sea right now, and there hadn’t been for a while. Marcus figured it may be a good time to do a quick patrol along the beach to look for any drowning swimmers. 

As he slowly made his way down the steps in his long descent towards the beach, he could feel a knot start to form in his stomach. Usually drunk college kids liked to mess around on the beaches at night. While this on its own didn’t bother him, there was nothing wrong with having a little fun with your youth after all, alcohol and unpredictable ocean currents were never a good mix. He had saved six people from drowning since coming to this town, not including the strange pale woman from the pier. 

At first he kept a calm walking pace, glancing out at the water to look for anybody who may need saving. His pace increased to a sprint when he found a mass floating about 20 feet from the shoreline. The curve of their back bobbed up and down over the waves, their head and feet must have been under the water. They weren’t moving. Fearing the worst, Marcus dove in without even removing his shoes, trying to pull the body back to shore as quickly as possible. 

Leave it to Maine to have record temperatures on the year she was stuck in a winter coat. At least by the beach, it buffered her from the wind, and night lended a chill to the breeze. Plenty of people wore layers at the beach. She didn’t stick out too much, right? Did it matter? It was late, anyway. And why was she still chasing any form of normalcy? Forget it. Regan shuffled through the sand, letting her feet guide her. They rarely let her down, leading her straight toward the inevitable.

In the distance were two figures – a person in the intertidal zone standing by an inert lump, tide lapping at them both. Her skin prickled with thrilling, familiar death. And that lump she spotted was no small find. Not a gull nor a fish. Bigger. A seal, a dolphin, or maybe…

Regan’s feet picked up pace. When she saw what her body already knew was present, her eyes twinkled, and she took it all in. He was beautiful. Not the man – to her, he didn’t exist – but the body. Bloated, waterlogged flesh that had been picked clean in spots by ambitious fish. Eyes that had swollen and erupted out of his skull and long-disappeared down something’s gullet. Seaweed tangled in his remaining hair and draped across the drenched, tattered clothes as if claiming the body for itself. The man besides the body was, Regan supposed, also quite handsome, though it had taken her too long to really notice him.

“What’s this about?” She blinked, processing what was happening here. Perhaps she should have been more alarmed by the body. Even in this death-saturated town, people managed to be caught unawares. The man appeared stunned, though Regan couldn’t tell if it was because of the body or because he was seen by the body. But she didn’t need to give the decedent an examination to know it was not freshly-dumped. He was no killer. This seemed serendipitous. “Did you find this body?” Which raised more questions. The clothes were too wet and free of sand, the skin showing no evidence of gulls’ plundering, for this to be a beachcombing find. “Did you find this body in the water? How did you drag it out of the ocean?” Touching the body would have been unavoidable, unfortunately, though salt water was good at chafing away evidence by itself anyway.

Her walks always ended this way. Her hand dipped into her pocket and emerged with her ID. “I’m Dr. Kavanagh. I work at the Office of the Medical Examiner.” Though this probably seemed like a chance meeting to him, it was anything but. Regan didn’t subscribe to fate, and certainly not Fate, but death hooked her and reeled her toward whenever she needed to be. “You won’t be surprised to hear that I have some other questions for you. I think we have a few minutes before I have to alert my investigators, and I’d like to have you on your way as soon as possible.”

By the time Marcus had reached the man in the water, it was obvious he was beyond saving. Bloated, and partially decayed. Or had something been eating at him? He reminded himself of how terrifying the circle of life could really be. He didn’t fancy the idea of dragging this corpse to shore, but he figured the least he could do for the man was get him identified so that they could have a proper burial. He knew several former comrades of his who would have been grateful to have had the same courtesy extended to them. 

When he reached the shore, he was greeted by an unwelcome sight. A woman was standing at the shoreline watching him, as well as the body he was carrying. 

Shit. 

Surely she wouldn’t think he had killed the man, right? She didn’t seem to be especially suspicious of him, she almost seemed curious. Also, in spite of it being a warm 78 degree night, she was dressed in a winter coat. Her first impression she left on Marcus was… curious to say the least. 

She was questioning him, which couldn’t be a good thing. It would be pretty easy for Marcus to prove he had nothing to do with the poor man’s death, but he didn’t want to deal with the headaches of a police interrogation. While the people in this town didn’t generally seem to show many biases, he never had a good history with the police. Being implicated in a murder wouldn’t help his case in any way if it came down to it. He was relieved to hear she was a medical examiner. Surely she of all people could see the decomposition and know this couldn’t possibly be a fresh death. 

“My name’s Marcus, Marcus Fremont. I tend to the lighthouse up that way” he said, gesturing towards Hanging Rock. “I also use down time on my shift to search for any swimmers that need help, lot of drunk college kids putting themselves in bad situations. Evidently, I found this guy way too late”, Marcus said, gesturing to the man’s body on the ground. 

“It is… welcomed meeting you, Marcus Fremont.” Maybe not good, but welcomed, yes. His account of what happened was, at the least. Regan took in the nervous way he was holding himself. The way his feet shuffled in the sand and uncertainty in his voice. “Let’s get this out of the way. I am not assuming you have anything to do with the death.” But with that said… “However, if you did have something to do with it, I will find out, and you will not get away with it. I like to make myself clear.” She fished out a small spiral notebook and pencil from her bag. They weren’t official tools of the investigation but they were enough to capture Marcus’s ad hoc account, before she sent him off.

“Bodies are heavy, even in the water.” She leveled her gaze at him, though it was more studying than accusatory. “You must be quite practiced in pulling people to shore if you were able to do this. Where were you when you saw the body? And what did you see, exactly? Did you presume the body to be a live person?” She readied her pencil.

The woman’s cold demeanor wasn’t a relief to Marcus, but he was glad he wasn’t being implicated in the poor man’s death. He watched as she readied a pad and pencil and wondered why she would need to take some kind of eyewitness statement if she wasn’t a cop. Sure, she worked with the cops, but this part wasn’t her job was it? Shouldn’t she be calling a detective over or something? 

“I used to be in the navy. Had to pull plenty of my shipmates out of troubled water, at least during training. Hard to do that kind of rescue on a real ship. And during those trainings we all were wearing 40-60 pounds of equipment on our body which, of course, would get waterlogged. In other words, this wasn’t much of a struggle for me.” Marcus explained, feeling proud that his strength had almost returned to him completely. If nothing else, he always had his athleticism to fall back on as a point of pride. 

“I was probably about halfway down the shoreline between here and the lighthouse when I saw something floating. I couldn’t tell from that distance that he was already a lost cause, so I dove in to try and get to him as quickly as I could. Once I got closer, I realized he was well beyond saving. But that didn’t mean I was going to let his body become fish food”. 

He glanced at the woman in front of him again, curiously. There was plenty that was off about this woman, and he had some questions of his own. 

“Now, if you don’t mind. What are you doing out here so late? And I hate to be critical about people’s fashion and whatnot but, why are you wearing that big coat? It’s a pretty warm night, all things considered. Might have been why this guy decided to go for a swim.” He said, glancing at the body of the man again. 

Marcus’s story was more than believable – Regan didn’t know very much about what went into training people in the Navy, but she figured any Navy Seal could probably pull the body of a full-grown human being from the water with relative ease. Probably even easier dead than alive. Regan knew from experience that those who drowned alive flailed and could easily drag others down with them. A shudder ran through her as she thought of her grandmother’s deceptively strong grip. Jotting down the details Marcus provided made for a worthy distraction. “It’s good you were around, then. I don’t know how I would have been able to pull him out.” Felt the body’s presence, certainly. But it would have become some tantalizing treat that she could not reach. “One last thing. Your contact information, please.” She readied her pen.

Regan eventually realized she was being studied back. “This is… official Medical Examiner garb.” Her stomach squeezed with the lie, but she did not allow herself to flinch. “Do not concern yourself with it. We need many pockets, you see.” Even though she’d pulled her notebook out of her bag, she closed it and inserted it into one of the pockets just to demonstrate a point. “Plenty of people walk the beach at night. I was going beachcombing.” Which was true, though the objects of her affection were not shells or sea glass. I can have an answer for everything, too, Regan thought, despite not finding Marcus particularly suspicious. 

She shook her head at his speculation. “No, he died before tonight.” Though how far before was hard to say. Water changed decomposition, giving fewer clues to the post-mortem interval. But if the fish-bitten holes in his clothes and skin were anything to go off of, it had at least been a couple of days. She gave the cadaver a look of admiration, taking in the salt-shriveled flesh and clumps of remaining hair. “Once we identify him we may be able to gather information about when he was last seen alive, and where. Not my favorite method. Humans are unreliable.” She pulled a business card from a different pocket and handed it to him. “I expect you to contact me if anything else about this occurs to you. But perhaps there’s more to be said right now.” She raised a brow.

Marcus observed closely as the woman in front of him wrote down every detail of what he said. He had hoped he wouldn’t be called to testify as a witness of any trials that popped up in the future. He didn’t do well with informal questioning like what he was getting now, he fared even worse when being questioned in more official settings. It’s why he chose to live a life in secret while officially being presumed dead, it was much easier than having to come up with a believable excuse to go AWOL to the U.S Navy. 

“I imagine you have a lot of tools of the trade. Magnifying glass, scalpel, gloves…” he trailed off, unable to remember anymore things he could imagine a medical examiner using. He knew what a doctor used and also figured a detective would want a magnifying glass. “Didn’t mean to make it feel like an interrogation”, he added, still not fully sure he wasn’t in one himself. 

He gave the woman his contact information without any argument. He learned from an early age that the more he cooperated with the law, the better things will be for him overall, even if he didn’t particularly want to cooperate. He had hoped this night would be the end of his questioning and hoped even more that he wouldn’t be getting a call asking him to testify. 

“Nothing else at the moment, I think we about covered it. Saw him floating, tried to save him, realized it was too late, dragged his body to shore. Didn’t know the guy, obviously, but felt he deserved a proper burial as most people do.” He paused to look at the man’s body again before returning his gaze to the strange woman in the big coat. 

“I know people can be very unreliable with their stories, especially if it’s really been multiple days. But I really do hope you guys can figure out who this man was. Just so his family can get some closure” 

His words hung heavy on his tongue, knowing that his own family didn’t even get the comfort of knowing he was alive until very recently. 

“Rib spreader, bone saw, delightfully long needles…” Regan continued, enjoying the rise her equipment sometimes got out of people. “Your willingness to help is appreciated,” she said with a nod of her head, though she knew it was less of a willingness and more of an obligation. People didn’t tend to tell her much of anything until she showed her ID. Dr. Rickers probably didn’t have the same issue; Regan imagined most people just believed he was a medical examiner on the spot and opened up to him. Not only was he an exemplar of their occupation, he had this annoying quality that made others actually want to engage with him. Except for Regan. She was the only person with sense.

Pulling her phone from one of her many pockets – and shooting Marcus a glance that said see? Helpful – sent a text alert to her office, who would come down here with the police. There was little scene investigation to be had. The body had obviously been dumped and drifted this way from elsewhere. “I assume you can usually be found around here?” Regan asked him. She had his contact information, but that wasn’t the point she was getting at. “If you see anything, please inform my office. And if you see any choice animal carcasses, message me, personally. Got that?” Her voice lightened at the request – which for her, was as friendly as she got. “You have been fine to meet, Mr. Fremont. Memorable, at least. Most individuals don’t bring me bodies. Keep up the good work. If you would like to leave now before my office arrives, you may. You’re dismissed.” 

Brooks left camp pretty frequently. He liked to think that he was becoming very good at sneaking in and out of the camp unnoticed. It wasn’t uncommon for people to leave camp, Brooks had noticed that. The camp had still gone unraided by Roman soldiers which meant that the secret hadn’t gotten out yet. Today, as Brooks was heading toward the edges of camp he had run into Harper and invited her along. “I know some great spots with beautiful views.” Had been Brooks best selling point. That’s how the two found themselves wandering around the lake above camp. “I come here a lot to clear my head. It’s quieter than camp.”

When Brooks had suggested that they go and explore some parts outside of the camp, Harper had agreed quickly. She loved the camp, and she was fairly certain that they weren’t exactly just supposed to go about everywhere. But she was still new, relatively speaking, and it was important to go and see new places. “Quiet is good.” Harper nodded, offering a small smile. “I am certainly a fan of it, especially in a place as beautiful as this.” She gestured around them. “Thank you for inviting me.” The lake was beautiful, and Harper breathed in the smell of all the trees and flowers around them.

“How are you adjusting?” Brooks found himself asking her. It seemed strange, those words coming out of his mouth instead of someone else saying them to him. He still didn’t feel like he had a good grip on everything that demigod and camp life had to offer, but he thought himself adjusted enough to at least offer assistance to others. He liked helping others, the sensation was new but pleasant. “It took me awhile to find my bearings, but once I started making friends it became a lot easier.” Once he had started training and involving himself in the war. He knew Harper had no desire to fight, but maybe she just needed to find her own reason to stay.

“It’s all still more than a little confusing,” Harper admitted honestly, “but it is so beautiful. So I am rather fond of it all.” She looked up at Brooks. It was all true, she did still have a great love for her new home, even though she still hardly understood anything that was going on. But one day her mother would out her - claim her - though Harper still didn’t understand what needed to happen in order for that to happen. “I like to think I have started on the friends thing,” she looked over to Brooks, not wanting to add on ‘with you’, because although she was fairly certain he would agree, she did not wish to assume that he would. “Besides, I have my schoolwork and dance courses to focus on, so that is something.”

“That’s an understatement” Brooks laughed. “If you ever have everything figured out please enlighten me.” Across the lake he could see the large lake houses that were part of New Rome. A portion that the greeks were no longer welcome at. “Well the people here are friendly, so it’s not surprising.” The two hadn’t known each other long but Brooks considered Harper a friend. He quite liked all the people that he had met so far actually. “Well at least you have something to keep you busy. I spend my free time roaming around keep or sneaking around outside of it.” The last thing he needed was to be sneaking around outside of camp only to be kidnapped by Roman soldiers.

Harper shook her head. “I have high doubts that I will ever find and figure everything all out.” She bit her lip. “But if I do, I’ll let you know first of anybody.” She pulled one leg up and out, into a stretch much like the one she and Brooks had done before their run not too long ago. “I have been very lucky to find such kindness here, yes.” She listened to Brooks and gave a nod, “I think that is still a valid way to spend your time, so long as you enjoy it.” She glanced around them both quickly before wrapping her arms around her body, slightly chilly despite the beautiful day.

Brooks appreciated Harper’s willingness to stay positive and kind despite the war. Especially with how little that she knew about the demigod’s world it was amazing to see her so positive and willing to learn. If Brooks had a life to go back to outside of New Rome he wasn’t so sure he would be as willing. He wasn’t sure he would have stuck around or he might not have even come to New Rome in the first place. These were the things he came up here to think about. Brooks glanced at his watch, the two had been gone for a couple of hours now. Roaming around for too long in the open probably wasn’t a smart idea. “We should probably start heading back. It’s going to get dark in a little bit.”

She breathed in the fresh air all around them, only half paying attention to what Brooks was saying. Harper enjoyed the time spent out here more than she figured that she ought to. Especially since neither she nor Brooks were technically supposed to even be out here. Which were rules, and rules did often and usually have importance, but these rules only existed because of excessive fighting that should have never had to happen in the first place. “I suppose we should.” She whispered.

After the initial battle in the Eastern district, Cat had been commanded to patrol the more vulnerable parts of the city, and to her great amusement she had found something out of place. Two Greeks, stealing through the streets of her city. Using sign language, Cat directed her troops to fan out around them before motioning for Marcus to follow her. Stepping into the street, she smiled menacingly, pulling her revolvers from their holsters she clicked the hammers back and aimed each one at a Greek head. “By the laws of New Rome, and the authority of the senate and the first cohort, this is your first and final warning. Stand down, and I won’t hurt either of you. Resist, and Marcus will show you why the first cohort is the best.”

Marcus enjoyed patrols with Cat, she always seemed to make the right choices and the tough calls without hesitation. He admired that and learnt everything he could from her. As she signed orders to the troops he read her orders before reading his own. As she stepped out and announced their arrest, he stepped out from behind her, smirk on his face. Yeah, he definitely would show them. As if it had all been planned out, he summoned flames that danced around his right hand and aimed it at them with a wink. Flames were one of the easiest elements he could control, he always reasoned it was due to his descendance from Vulcan. “I’d do as she said.” He added.

Brooks’ heart plummeted as soon as he heard the woman’s voice. Before she even finished her sentence Brooks could tell that these were roman soldiers stepping out to capture them. He immediately felt sick to his stomach and glanced around, taking in and and all exit strategies that came to mind. But escaping demigods with magic, arrows and guns were different than running from a mugger or cop. Brooks stepped in front of Harper and held his arms up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt us!” He didn’t need to fake fear but some tears might not hurt. “We aren’t greek soldiers!” That part wasn’t even a lie. “My name’s Brooklyn, son of Mercury. This is Harper. She hasn’t even been claimed yet. We are just walking around the lake. We aren’t trying anything we swear. Don’t hurt us please.” Whether or not these soldiers bought the story, Brooks needed to find a way to get him and Harper out of there pronto.

This was not happening. Harper wished that she could just sink into herself. She moved closer to Brooks and found herself extremely grateful for once that she didn’t talk too much, and didn’t like to talk too much. She nodded at Brooks’ words - it was okay to lie in this situation, and it also was true that she hadn’t been claimed. Though she was fairly certain that she was Greek, even though that was not something she entirely understood. “I just r-really like nature.” She finally said, finding her voice, though it wavered. “That’s all we were doing, you do - don’t need to hurt us.” The weapons and clear magic were not something she wanted to be anywhere near right now.

Nature. What a quaint ideal. Cat however had grown up in this city. There wasn’t a single member of the Legion by the name of Brooklyn. He was of the age where he’d have certainly joined the Legion were he to be Roman, and she would recognise him if he had joined the Legion. Of course, they didn’t know that. Which meant that she and Marcus could have a bit of fun with their prey. “Brooklyn, son of Mercury,” she pretended to think, scratching at her chin for a moment before frowning, “from the Queen family?” she asked, making up a name to see if he agreed with it. “If you are Romans then what are you even doing so far past the last Roman position? It is incredibly dangerous here, Jackson and his Greek dogs have been killing any Roman that they can get their hands on. Probably as vengeance for what happened to his friend Grace, I heard he lost the eye y’know.” She turned to Marcus for the end of that sentence, hoping to get some sort of reaction from the Greeks.

Marcus didn’t recognize the other and that was saying something. His father and family were well known and everyone who was someone attended their family’s gala evenings and even the most meaningless families were gossiped about. What really gave it away was Cat mentioning the Queen family, which did not exist. Catching on, Marcus made the flames vanish before he sat down and lay himself out besides Cat, propping himself up with his arm and resting his other arm on the knee of his bent leg. “It’s true, although I’d say we helped and that he looks a lot better this way.” He smirked. “It’s dangerous out here, them Greeks can be a real menace.” He paused before asking, “Wait, Brooks? From the 6th Cohort right? I think I might have heard off some good looking guy called Brooks from the 6th?”

Brooks knew when he was walking into a trap. One of the pros of living the last two years learning to lie and act his way out of situations. He had picked up on more than a few red flags in a conversation. Brooks knew nothing about the Queen family, but it was far too specific of a reference for Cat to willingly offer an out to them. In an ideal situation, Brooks would have some semblance of information on the Romans to fuel his lies. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any personal information to to share that would help his lie. But Brooks needed to be flexible. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.” He was walking a dangerous path, he knew that. But with both his and Harper’s lives on the line he seemed to have little choice. “I don’t know any Queen family and I don’t even what a cohort is! Let alone how many there are.” Grace. A wave of anger rose in his body. They were mocking Jason’s injuries. He was furious, but logical. He couldn’t show his anger. He needed to remain as frightened as possible. “I was claimed a couple of months ago. I was told about New Rome and directed out here. When I got here I learned out about the war and the Greeks found me. I panicked and told them that I was a son of Hermes so they wouldn’t kill me.” His hands were growing tired but he refused to lower them in fear of getting shot because someone thought he was reaching for a weapon. If it came down to a fight, both him and Harper were screwed. So they needed to find another way out. “I was trying to leave the camp and convinced Harper to come with me. We escaped and found the lake but I don’t have any idea where I’m going. Please do not hurt us. You can clearly see how terrified we both are. We don’t even have weapons. All I have is a pocket knife. It’s in my back pocket. I can grab it for you if you don’t shoot me.”

She felt sick to her stomach. This was about a million-and-one times worse than any elementary school playground bullies. Harper continued to let Brooks do most of the talking as she tried to figure out just what the two adults were up to. Even despite her belief in the good of all, there were too many signs that that something was wrong. She felt her body stiffen at the woman’s mention of Jason’s injury. Mocking something like that was cruel, comparing others to animals was terrible. You helped? She bit down as hard as she could on her lip and stared right at them, wide-eyed though remaining relatively silent. “He just w-wanted me to be safe, too.” She whispered. “So that the Gr- the Greeks didn’t decide to lock us up or anything.” Harper silently cursed herself, everyone in the Greek camp who she’d met had been nothing but warm and welcoming and kind. They didn’t deserve even the smallest lie that said they were anything but. “We’ll just go ahead and get back home,” she stumbled over her words, “you know, back to safety and all.”

“Enough,” Cat announced, suddenly growing bored of these foolish games and wishing for another respite from her time patrolling. Bringing these fools into Camp Jupiter would have to do for the days activities. Besides, she was sure that if they were truly telling the truth then it would be found out soon enough. Although she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe their tall stories. They’d made no reference of Lupa, something a true Roman would recognise. “I don’t believe that you’re not Greek, but I guess there is only one real way to tell. We’re going to detain you and take you back to the Camp, they’ll be able to test whether or not your claim is true. Besides, if you’re Romans you’ll be safer off outside of the city. We can transfer your leaving information as soon as we’ve validated your claims.” She nodded at Marcus, and reached behind herself, hooking a pair of handcuffs off her belt. Unsnapping them, she looked at the suspects, daring them to move.

Marcus rolled his eyes as the fun ended. He could see through the lies as if they were the mist. The boy seemed to have a golden tongue, a gift given to children of Mercury and Hermes. There was no telling just yet if his statements were true or not. The girl seemed very timid and unlikely to be a threat, she also seemed to be scared out of her mind. Most Roman’s knew who the Centurions were, especially Cat, yet they hadn’t called her by name once. Jumping up to his feet he too took out a pair of handcuffs but his materialized into his hand rather than him reaching for them attached to his belt. “Listen, don’t make this hard for yourselves. You obviously know the Roman law, and resisting can lead to even greater consequences. Besides, if you run, I’ll just put the handcuffs on magically, and with a moving target, there’s no guarantee it won’t hurt.”

They were so screwed. Brooks was trying to remain positive and level headed but the odds were stacked against them. These two roman soldiers were obviously well trained and if part of a cohort or whatever they were claiming, that probably meant there were more soldiers around. He could not imagine a situation where the two of them were going to make it back to the Greek camp. The two of them were too outnumbered and not nearly skilled enough. It was times like these that he wished his pocket knife magically turned into a chainsaw or something fantastic like Percy’s pen or Jason’s coin. Unfortunately, it looked like the two were on their own. And with Marcus threatening his magic handcuffs, which were apparently a thing, just running didn’t seem like an option. Maybe if Brooks could provide a distraction it would give Harper time to get away. “Fine. Fine. Just don’t hurt us. Like I said, we aren’t soldiers.” Brooks began walking forward, eyeing the ground and spotting a root sticking out from the ground. He veered his path to make sure he would have to walk into it and purposely planted his foot under it, forcing himself to trip onto the ground. He planted face first, digging his palms into the ground and gathering as much dirt as he could into his fists. “Damn it.” Brooks mumbled, pushing himself back up off the ground. “If I’m actually a greek spy I must be the clumsiest soldier known to man.” Then, as quickly as he could, threw the dirt at the two soldiers, and spun to yell  “Run!” to Harper. He knew the dirt would do nothing. But he at least hoped that they would focus their attention on him so that Harper may be able to get away.

No. No, no, no. Harper’s eyes glanced at the handcuffs that the woman held, and she felt her nails dig into the palms of her hands at the mention of magic handcuffs that the man could apparently use. How would that even work? She found herself thinking, too curious and too unknowing once again. If they made it out of this, she desperately needed to find somebody to help explain all the ins and outs of this place to her. They would make it out of this, though, because nobody needed to die. Nobody ever needed to die. She could feel her mouth go dry as Brooks moved toward the other figures, then her eyes grew wide as he threw dirt at them - and yelled for her to run. But she remained, unmoving, feet planted on the ground. I’m not leaving you. She wanted to say, but remaining mostly quiet was for the best. “Leave us b - be.” She said, her voice wobbling as she attempted to feign confidence, ever part of her body feeling terrified and anxious. “Don’t you dare hurt us.” Especially not my only full-confirmed friend here. She took a few steps forward, finally - unsure of what her plan was, unsure of what she was supposed to do here. Harper finally relaxed her fists from their clenching, giving a small flick of her wrists, and found herself give a half-audible gasp as a few strands of ivy suddenly sprouted from the ground and wrapped around the handcuffs in the woman’s hands.

Cat was moving forwards, having brushed the dirt out of her eyes and blinking a few times, she’d started after Brooks, intent on handcuffing him just a little too tightly. Stepping forward she reached out and was about to snap her cuffs around the Greek when she noticed the girl move. The earth almost seemed to respond as vines of ivy leapt up and wrapped themselves around the handcuffs in her hands, the ivy moved of its own accord, defying gravity and surging through the air. The vines lashed around the metal circles and pulled down tightly, dragging them out of Cat’s hands and causing them to rattle onto the floor. “She’s a child of Ceres or Prosperina,” she snapped, reaching to her belt and pulling a sword out before hacking free of the vines and taking a step away. “We’ve got to stop them, she’s too valuable to allow to join the Greeks.”

Marcus growled as the vines leapt out at Cat and then became annoyed as they seems to move on their own accord and wrap around his arms too. He struggled to pull his arm from the plants but soon the vines had wrapped themselves around both his wrists and held them close together. Now he was the one who was handcuffed. With a roar of frustration, his hands burst into flames, burning away at the vines that held them tight. The smell of burnt vines and white smoke filled the air and with another tug, be broke away from the charred vines. He made a move towards the boy whom was closest, hoping to use him as leverage, hold him captive until they both surrendered. But the same root that has tripped the other seemed to find its way over Marcus’s foot, causing him to topple forward and into the dirt too. He did however, manage to send a ball of flames in the girls direction before his face met the dirt beneath him. He had probably missed and looked up as soon as he could, spitting the blood that had come from his busted lip.

What the hell had just happened? Brooks was so sure that the two were completely screwed when all hell broke loose. Vines began growing from nowhere and both Cat and Marcus seemed taken aback by this new development. Brooks glanced back at Harper and the realization that this was her hit him. She had powers too apparently and they had just completely saved their asses. Or at least, they were giving the two the chance to get away. Marcus fell and in a fit of rage seemed to hurl at fireball. Brooks tried scrambling to his feet to save Harper but when he realized couldn’t get there in time, instead reached out and pushed out at her ankle, knocking her over so that the fireball would miss. A second later, Brooks had crawled to his feet and was helping Harper onto her feet. “We need to go. Right now.” He said in a rush, yanking her along by her wrists as the two made their way out into the forest.

She’d never known that she had powers of that sort. For a moment, Harper stood, wide-eyed as the vines wrapped around the man and woman in part, but then they each broke away from them. This still isn’t working. Her heart was still racing and then the man sent fireballs toward her and before she could even duck, Brooks had pushed her out of the way, causing her to fall down on the ground. She caught her fall with the palms of her hands and then grabbed Brooks’ hand as he reached out to help her. “Right there with you.” She whispered and began to move with him, turning back halfway and gave another flick of her wrist, causing a small fence of vines to grow between them and the others - given that the man could apparently create fire, she doubted that it would do much, but maybe it could help a bit. Until she could figure out exactly what she was able to do. This was much more than simple keeping flowers alive always and growing a few small plants in her room.

After the two were safely away from these Roman soldiers, Brooks and Harper would have to explore this new and exciting revelation in Harper’s powers. For now, the two would have to focus instead on surviving. Along the path of their escape a single Roman soldier stepped out to stop the two. So they did have soldiers spread out. Made sense. Brooklyn was positive that this soldier could outfight the two. But Brooks remembered what Jason had said. That chaos was Brooks’ best friend. He just needed to do the unexpected. So while Brooks and Harper ran full speed toward the soldier, Brooks dropped. And fell to the ground and into a roll, barreling into the soldier’s leg and kicking into the soldier’s groin. Then he recovered quickly and kicked the dude’s head with his foot. He neglected to see if the man was unconscious or not and instead waved Harper along so the two could keep running. He veered Harper off of the path leading back to Camp, “We can’t go back there tonight. No telling if they’ll follow us or not.”

Somehow, they’d made it away. Harper didn’t quite understand how any of that had happened, but right now she just needed to keep moving until both she and Brooks were safe. But another soldier appeared, apparently making their ease of escaping more difficult than it should have been. If there was no war, they would not have had to run, they would not have been attacked simply for being Greek. The prejudice made absolutely no sense to Harper, and she refused to hate someone else simply because they had a different birth than she did. Harper couldn’t help but watch in amazement as Brooks deftly dealt with the soldier - though any violence was not somethings she would ever be fond of, but right now she needed to get out of here alive, and make sure that Brooks did too. Then she could maybe start to process what on earth she had done back there. “Yes, we’ll have to stay in the forest this evening.” She looked around at the upcoming trees. “I - I don’t want to risk harm to anyone back at the Camp.”

The two ran for what felt like forever. Even Brooklyn’s legs were tired by the time they finally slowed. But the adrenaline still hadn’t stopped pumping through his blood. When he was certain that the two hadn’t been followed - and to be clear Brooks still had not been completely sure they had not been followed - the two finally stopped running and decided to take a rest. He leaned against a tree and slid down it until he was sitting on the ground. Then he rested his head back against the bark and took a long second to catch his breath. “We can figure out a place around here to make camp. It won’t be a particularly luxurious night, but we won’t put anybody else in danger.” Then he paused lifted his head to look at Harper, “That was impressive. What you did back there.”

She skidded to a halt when Brooks stopped. “Yes,” she sighed, “we can. I am not bothered by sleeping here, I’m sure we can find a nice patch of grass, or dirt, and it is still lovely out.” At his mention of what had happened, she felt her face grow red. “I - I do not know what happened, I just - I didn’t want them to hurt us, and then,” she gestured vaguely around, “that happened. It’s - I’ve grown f- flowers before, but not that.” She wrapped her arms around her body. Harper smiled down at Brooks, “but thank you. I appreciate your kind words.” She let the words of gratitude hang in the air for a few moments before she moved to sit down - but before she could, she noticed a slight shift in the way the light fell around her and glanced up - a sickle and a few sheaths of wheat floating above her head. “What - what is that?” She said, moving towards Brooks, the image following her.

“Well it was incredible. You saved both of us.” Brooks smiled. A part of him was disappointed that everyone around him seemed to have these incredible abilities. The other part knew that Harper had already had some type of abilities. He recognized the flowers and the way things seemed to spring to life around her. And most of all, he was happy that whatever she had done it saved the both of them. “So thanks.” Suddenly, something was appearing over head and Brooks jumped to his feet to get a better look at it. “You just got claimed.” Brooks admitted, wide eyed. “I don’t know who it is though.” He studied it further, willing the name to come to him, but his mind remained blank. “Damn it.” He groaned. He wished he could have been more helpful to Harper. “When we get back to camp we will figure out. Other’s will know.”