#fictober22

“Did you see the sign (Y/N) and I made you?” Jack hops around in excitement, still holding your hand. You smile at the memory of laying on the grass this morning with Jack drawing stars and placing stickers sporadically while Jack did all the hard work writing out ‘go daddy go!’

“Yeah I did, Buddy,” Hotch flashes a smile at you before gazing down at Jack again. “The sign is fantastic!” 

“Look at you,” you smile widely at him, heat starting to creep up your neck when Hotch turns his attention back to you. “I knew you could do it!” 

“Yeah, you were right,” he concedes, having denied you for months now when you had confidently told him he would be able to finish the race with ease. 

“Can you say that again?” you gasp playfully, leaning towards Hotch. “I just love being told that I’m right, especially when it comes from you.”

“Oh shut up,” he barks out a real laugh, pulling you into a sweaty side hug. In that moment Jack wraps his arms around both of your waists, and for a split second you can imagine what being a family with your Hotchner boys would feel like. 

The team is coming up with places to go grab some food, but you aren’t paying attention, still reveling in the feeling of the arms around you, when a feminine voice breaks through your clouded brain. “Hotchner!” a pretty darked haired woman waves from the crowd and Hotch’s arm immediately falls from your side. 

“Beth,” he practically sighs, a genuine carefree smile over taking his face at just the mere sight of her. It’s like a cold bucket of water has been dumped on you, the cold water seeping into your clothes and into your bones, making you feel absolutely miserable as Jack’s hand is being pulled from yours. “Jack, there’s someone I want you to meet!” 

Like the sadist that you are, you watch Hotch immediately pull the woman into a tight hug, jealousy pushes down on you like a ton of bricks, and your heart starts to crack under the pressure. Sure, you knew your infatuation with Hotch, your superior, could never work out, seeing him like this with someone that isn’t you still makes you want to rip your heart out to stop the pain. While the team looks on at the spectacle in confusion, Derek turns to look at you- you can feel his eyes boring holes into the side of his head as he tries to inside of your brain. 

Hotch, Jack, and this Beth woman walk over to the group, his arm is wrapped around her back and the childish urge to cry arises. Jack immediately runs back to you, burying his face into your back, trying to hide from the awkwardness of meeting a new person. Your heart starts to crumble as Hotch informs you guys that he’s invited Beth to join the team for lunch, and Jack’s little arms squeeze your middle tighter. 

“Pretty girl and I actually have plans,” Derek announces, further confusing the team since he was so adamant about trying this new burger joint not five minutes ago. “I’ve been promising to take her to go see the new Urban Streets photography installation at the Smitsonian. So we’ll have to take a rain check on the team lunch.”

You sigh in relief at his saving you from a very awkward lunch, a lunch you’re not sure you have made it through the whole thing without crying. However, you tense up again when you feel Jack bury his face further into the fabric of your tee shirt, making no effort to move from you and towards his dad, even with the new information. 

“Can I come with you and Uncle Derek?” Jack asks loud enough that Hotch, who’s standing next to you, hears his son despite the fact that Jack’s face is pressed tightly to your back. 

You pry Jack's arms from your waist, turn around and squat done so you’re eye level with him. “Jack attack, you have to go with your dad today, but we can do something together next weeked if your dad and I aren’t on a case.”

“But I don’t wan’ ta go,” Jack whines dramatically, and you can’t hold back the smile at his cute little pout. “I don’t like her.”

“Sweetie, you just met her,” you whisper, you know Aaron is listening, but you lower your voice so Beth doesn’t start listening in too. Grabbing Jack’s hands you stare into his eyes, “you can’t judge someone that you’ve only talked to once. Your dad obviously really likes her, please give her a chance.”

“Not Judging, profiling,” Derek covers a laugh by clearing his throat, informing you that he’s listening in as well. “She’s not you, don’ wan’ like her.”

“Can you at least try? For me,” he glares at you and you know you’ve won. It’s obviously a low blow to use his love for you against him, but if Hotch is happy again you don’t want to be the reason Jack doesn’t get along with Beth. 

In the weeks since the incident at the triathlon, Hotch has pulled away from you. He’s no longer talking to you about anything besides the cases, nor is he inviting you over to spend time with Jack. Instead you're spending all of your free time with Derek drinking beers, whining to him, and taking your frustration out by demoing the house he’s currently working on.  

Little fragments of your heart start to break off when Beth is everywhere you look. She’s in a frame on Hotch’s desk, her and Jack are his lock screen, she picks Hotch up for lunch when you guys have paperwork days, and she’s at every gathering the team has. It’s starting to become too much, losing both of your boys, and having it rubbed in your face. Maybe it’s time for you to move on?

“Are you really thinking about transferring back home?” Derek asks, finally getting you alone during a dinner at Rossi’s. You had purposefully made yourself late so he couldn’t get you alone before dinner, knowing you’d get questioned and lectured since he saw the transfer request on your desktop as you two were leaving for the day.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” you sigh, taking a large sip of the expensive wine Rossi cracked open, using the time to mull over your options. “I’m really considering it right now.” 

“So there’s nothing any of us can do or say to make you stay here in DC?” his watchful eyes on you, profiling you to see how serious you’re being. His brows furrow and it’s obvious that he can tell that you aren’t lying, you really want to leave. 

“You’re leaving?” a little voice shouts from the doorway, his voice cracking. “You can’t leave! You can’t leave me!” 

“Shit,” you mutter, whipping around from where you're leaning on the island to see the blonde take off out of the kitchen and towards the bedrooms. You follow after him without a second thought, “Jack! Jack, wait!” 

“What’s going on?” Hotch steps in front of you, face worried as he looks from you to his son, who’s slipping into the bedroom he uses anytime he crashes while the team is having dinner. 

“He overheard a conversation I was having with Derek, and he didn’t like what he heard,” you sigh as you watch the door click shut, there’s no doubt in your mind that the lock is falling into place and all you can do is watch from afar. “Please just let me handle this, let me talk to him.”

“Fine,” he lets out a long sigh, glancing at the shut door one last time before stepping out of your way. “I’ll give you twenty, if he’s not out of the room by then I’m going in.”

Ignoring his comment, you walk around him and go to the room, immediately trying the handle and finding it locked like you expected. You thump your forehead against the door in defeat, you’re heart breaking at the quiet sobs coming from inside the room. “Jack attack, please let me in,” your voice cracks at the thought of making him cry, you can feel the eyes from the team and their partners on the back of your head, all of them coming to see what your shouting had been about. 

“Fine,” Jack’s broken little voice answers, he opens the door a crack before flopping back onto the king bed. You take a deep breath walking into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you. 

You flop down next to Jack, both of you staring quietly at the ceiling for a minute- you counted- before you finally say something. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he grumbles, turning onto his side and away from you. Your heart shatters, he’s icing you out, for the first time ever he’s not seeking comfort in your arms. 

“Jack please-” your cut off when he jumps out of the bed and away from you the moment you lay your hand on his shoulder. 

“No! You want to leave me,” his brows furrow and he looks just like his dad. But your cute observation is quickly swept to the back of your mind when you notice a fresh set of tears shining in his eyes. 

“Sweetheart, no. I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper, hands reaching out to grab his little ones, and you’re beyond thankful that he doesn’t pull away this time.

“Why would you transfer?” Jack looks so confused, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tries to figure out the answer for himself. 

“Stupid grown up reasons,” you sigh, a tear slipping down your face.

“‘M so sick of hearing that,” he sighs, his voice and posture changing to mimic his father. “I’ll tell you when you’re older, you’re too young to understand, you’re just a kid. Just tell me the truth!”

“You really want to know the truth?” you know his last statement wasn’t directed specifically at you, but adults in general. Jack nods, you sigh before continuing, “I fell in love, and that person doesn’t love me back, not like I love ‘im at least. And I see him every day, it hurts so much. My heart breaks whenever I see him so happy with someone else, and I just don’t think I can do it anymore. The last thing that I want is to leave you Jack attack, but I can’t just sit there and see him everyday.”

“He works for the FBI?” Jack deduces, not really the reaction you expected. 

“Well aren’t you a little profiler?” you sniffle, wiping away tears you hadn’t realized you spilled.

“Daddy!” Jack rips the door open and takes off down the hall. Confused, you follow him, is he smarter than you think and he’s figured out who you were talking about? “Daddy, you need to fire him!”

“Fire who?” your eyes widen in shock and you freeze up, you already know what Jack is about to out your feelings, and in front of everyone. 

“The guy who broke her heart,” you miss Jack pointing at you, too busy making a face at Derek who is starting to cackle. “Please fire him, don’t let her transfer!” 

“You’re going to transfer?” Aaron looks up at you and you don’t know where to look, both him and Jack are giving you matching puppy dog eyes. The rest of the team is staring at you in confusion, minus Derek who is watching on in amusement, and Beth is watching your movements closely. 

“I started the paperwork this morning,” you awkwardly clear your throat, Jack throws his arms around your legs squeezing tightly. 

“When were you going to tell me?” vulnerability slips through for a split second, before his face and eyes harden.

“When I gave you the paperwork?” it comes out as more of a question than a statement. 

“I can’t lose another mom!” Jack cries into your thigh and your heart stops, does he really see you that way? 

Everyone starts to fade away as Jack climbs up your legs, realizing what he’s trying to do, so you scoop him up. Jack immediately buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel tears falling from his eyes onto your collarbone, as well as his body shaking from the force of his sobs. You try to soothe him but all that accomplishes is causing your own tears to spill onto the top of Jack’s head. You can’t leave now, you can never leave Jack. You walk back to the bedroom without another word, assuming that Hotch will be hot on your heels since the three of you obviously have some things to discuss. 

But Hotch isn’t behind you, he’s walking to the backyard with Beth. So you shut the door behind you and try to set Jack down. But all he does is cling tighter and cry harder, so you plop yourself on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jack quickly resituates so he’s curled up on your lap, and you just let him sit there and cry. Hotch enters the room- without knocking- around twenty minutes later, Jack’s tears have dried, but he’s still clinging to you like his life depends on it. 

“Jack,” Hotch sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out and placing his hand on his son’s back. “What did you mean out there when you said you couldn’t lose another mom?” 

“I already lost mommy,” the boy sniffles, removing his head from the crook of your neck to turn and look at his father. “And I can’t lose my new mom too.”

“Why do you see me as your new mom?” you ask lightly, and know instantly that you’ve phrased the question wrong because he tenses. “I’m not saying your feelings are wrong, sweetheart, I just want to know how you started thinking of me that way.”

“We were doing stuff in class for mothers day this week,” you watch Hotch tense up now, you know how much he tries to avoid mothers day for Jack’s sake. “The class was saying everything their mom’s do for them, and you do that stuff for me. You read to me over the phone when I can’t sleep, even if you and daddy are in a different state. You take me shopping for clothes and toys, and you always get me a pretzel when we go to the mall. You make me and Daddy breakfast and dinner when you guys aren’t working a case, and you help me with my homework when daddy doesn’t know what to do. You come to all of my soccer games and buy me ice cream after to celebrate if we won or to cheer me up if we lost. You do everything a mom does, and I love you.”

“I love you too,” you give him a big smooch on his forehead as you start to sob now, you had no idea those little things you did for him meant so much. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Jack panics when he realizes you’re crying. 

“No, Jackers, I think those are happy tears,” Hotch soothes him, and you nod vigorously in agreement. 

Jack reaches out to grab his dad’s hand, pulling him up to sit next to you against the headboard. Once Hotch is situated, Jack burrows himself between the two of you, your hand in one of his and Hotch’s in the other. “I wish you loved Daddy, then we could be a family.” Before either of you can respond, Jack is out like a light, his crying must have really tired him out. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, you still haven’t looked at Hotch once since he walked in the room, despite the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time. 

“For what?” he asks genuinely, his free hand reaching to grab yours. “You’re like a mother to him, it’s not that surprising, you’ve clung to each other from the first moment you met. I still remember calling you one night when Haley was out of town with Jess, and Jack wouldn’t stop crying. I knew he would stop crying when he heard your voice, and he did, he always does.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of you and Beth,” you can’t control the way your voice cracks at the mention of their relationship. “Not when you’re finally happy.”

“There is no me and Beth, not anymore,” he squeezes your hand tighter, and you can't help but look at him. “We broke up, actually she broke up with me. She realized that I’m in love with you and that I was dating her so I could ignore my feelings for my subordinate, my best friend. But (Y/N), I do love you, Jack loves you, we are a weird unconventional family.”

“I love you too Aaron,” one last tear trickles down your cheek. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with Beth anymore, that’s why I wanted to transfer. But I couldn’t actually go through it, I couldn't bring myself to leave you, and I could never leave Jack.”

“You are a great mother to him, even without realizing it,” you both glance down at Jack.

“What’s next?” you ask bashfully. Hotch leans forward, his lips landing perfectly on yours, mindful not to squish the sleeping child between you. 

Before, he could ignore it. First he was fighting the newborns and then he’d been dealing with the Volturi. It was easy for him to chase you away, even if it hurt him, and call it protecting you. But bow that the danger had passed, Jacob had been forced to confront the very thing he’d been avoiding for so long:

You.

It started small, visiting your home every so often just to see you. In the beginning, it was awkward, Jacob leaning on the porch and struggling to speak. But in time you seemed to soften, inviting him in rather then leaving him waiting.

First it was for coffee, then it was for dinner. And the more time Jacob spent with you, the more he wanted to stay. You were nothing like he had expected but he meant that in the best ways possible, completing him in ways he did not truly understand. Your strengths and flaws met his own came came together somehow and he was grateful for it...even if things were still so awkward between the both of you. Jacob was still kept at arm’s length and he knew that he deserved it, the bitterness of rejection still stinging your heart.

But he still came.

Nearly three times a week Jacob came to see you, spending hours in the little house you called home. It wasn’t much, just an old cottage you were lucky enough to rent for cheap, but he loved it here. Everything felt like you, the walls painted in colors of your favor and filled with little pieces of you. The paperback books scattered in crooked piles, too many to fit on the shelves anymore; the cardigan tossed over the back of the couch and your camera always waiting to be used. A wall of pictures lined the living room, photos of your life and your family...and him.

Jacob was there now, in a few of the photographs, but one was his favorite.

Embry had taken it at the beach, the summer sun setting behind you both as you leaned against Jacob, his arm thrown around over your shoulders as you were laughing at something.

That sun had long since set, summer melting into a cool autumn. Jacob was spending more and more time with you, sitting on your couch as the days became darker and darker. You’d watch movies and cook and it was always so perfect...but he always returned home before it got too late, not wanting to push what little he had with you too far.

Until tonight.

A sudden storm had appeared upon the horizon, violent and wild. Jacob wasn’t too worried about his dad (who was spending the weekend with Charlie and the Clearwaters), giving him a call the wind began to howl and snarl, rain pelting the rooftop. As he talked with his father, Jacob found his gaze wandering towards the kitchen, watching as you set out coffee and cake. When he joined you once more, he couldn’t help but smile when you asked after his dad (who had asked after you too, Billy was already so fond of you) and chattered sweetly about the storm.

“I need to place a pot under that leak, oh, and get blankets from the closet. Are you okay on the couch?”

“Huh?” Jacob looked up from his coffee, catching your gaze.

“You’re not trying to get back home in that, are you?” you asked him. “I don’t want you to do that, Jay.”

You could have asked him to fly to the moon and steal you a star and he would have done it in a heartbeat, wishing only to make you happy. But luckily all you asked of him was to stay the night and stay safe, declaring that you had worried over him far too much to take it anymore. So Jacob made himself comfortable on the couch (which was...difficult with his size) and smiled as you stayed beside him, watching the storm rage on from the window.

“Y/N?” Jacob said softly. “I’m sorry about before...I acted like an ass.”

“Yeah, a little bit. But it’s okay.”

“Did you really worry about me?”

“All the damn time,” you replied. “And I couldn’t figure out why I cared so much when we barely knew one another and you hated me a little bit...but I guess it didn’t matter. I cared and I worried about you.”

“I never hated you, not ever. I think I just...hated everything else. Everything sucked for a while.”

“It’s not so bad now though,” you mumbled softly.

You were growing tired, eyes closed as you rested against his heart. Jacob’s warmth only made you cling closer and he had never been so grateful for it, your legs thrown over his beneath the blankets and his arms wrapped around you. Looking back, Jacob was not proud of who he had been or how he had treated you. If anything, he was downright ashamed. He’d acted like a petulant brat and you’d suffered for it more then anyone else...but it was getting better.

And this was the proof of it, Jacob holding you close as you drifted into dreams in his arms...he’d been wrong. The old couch was more then comfortable, so much so that he never wished to leave.

It was always like this with you.

Even the most simple things felt so perfect, as long as you were together. And you always would be. Jacob wasn’t sure what was coming next or what you wanted him to be, a friend or a lover, but he felt certain that it might be the beginning of happily ever after.

I came to a stop at the top of Half-Blood Hill and put my hands on my hips as I looked down into the valley below, a smile on my face. I looked over my shoulder to find the cab driver still staring at me, a curious look on his face, so I gave him a cheery wave. He scowled back at me and then drove off, like a typical New Yorker.

I’d missed it here.

Camp Half-Blood had been like a home to me for years. I’d first arrived eight years ago with a group of other Half-Bloods and our Satyr, and over that time, a lot had changed.

Thalia, one of my best friends, had died and come back to life. Grover, my other best friend, became a member of the Council of Cloven Elders. Luke, my former friend and first boyfriend, had turned traitor only to give his life defeating Kronos. And Annabeth, my baby sister in everything but blood, had grown up into an incredible, beautiful, strong young woman.

I couldn’t have been more proud of her.

As for me, I’d left Camp Half-Blood just before Luke had turned traitor, about four years ago now. Instead of staying around the Camp I’d basically grown up in, I’d left for college, deciding to go abroad and see the world after so many years in the same place, happy but afraid of the outside world. I’d come back last summer, to help fight the Battle of New York, only to leave again once the dust had settled for my senior year of college.

Now, I’d just gotten back for winter break. Camp Half-Blood had been my only family for a while now, so of course, I’d come back to spend it with them. Our normal protective bubble had let just the lightest dusting of snow in, and in the wake of the changes Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, had called for after the Battle of New York, the Camp was livelier than I’d ever seen it in the middle of the winter.

I took one last beat to survey the scene in front of me, then started heading down the snow-covered hill to say hello to everyone. They’d known I was coming back for the holidays, but so far, no one had noticed my arrival.

As I got closer and closer to the Big House and the familiar (but newly expanded) ring of cabins, I started to get a little worried about why that might be. I could feel a tension in the air that had only ever meant something bad in my experience here, and as I got closer the tone of voices coming from the people rushing about sounded more urgent than excited.

“Hey!” I called, stopping the first camper I came across. I didn’t recognize her, which felt a little strange, since I used to know everyone at Camp, especially those who stayed over the winter holidays. I pushed the thought out of my mind however as I noticed her worriedly looking behind her, like she had somewhere to be. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know…” she started, giving me a bit of a suspicious look. I stared right back, and after a second, she apparently decided I probably wouldn’t have been able to get into Camp if I’d been a threat. “I woke up and everyone was freaking out about something. One of my friends said they heard somebody’s missing, but I don’t know who.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. We’d just survived a war. We did NOT need some new danger, especially not so soon.

“Where’s Annabeth?” I demanded. “Or Grover, or Chiron?”

“I don’t know… you could always check the Athena Cabin?”

I grit my teeth, incredibly frustrated but trying not to take it out on some kid who’d done her best.

“Alright, thanks,” I said, then took off without another word. If Annabeth had gone missing, especially while I’d been away, traveling the world instead of here, with her…

“Y/N!”

I turned around at the sound of my name to see Malcolm Pace, one of the Athena kids around the same age as Annabeth, speedwalking towards me. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or more concerned.

“Malcolm! What’s happening? I found a camper who said someone was missing-”

“Percy. Percy went missing sometime last night.”

I put a hand to my forehead, trying to process the news. My gut reaction was incredible relief that it wasn’t Annabeth, but that quickly faded back into a horrible, sick feeling. I loved Percy like a little brother too, and he and Annabeth had finally gotten to their happy ending. This was not good, in any way.

“Annabeth’s in the Athena Cabin,” he said, taking a step towards me and Cabin 6. “I think you should probably come see her.”

I nodded, dropping my hand from my forehead and letting the urgency of the situation clear my mind. I could sort through the worry and fear later. Right now, there were things that needed doing.

First and foremost, checking on Annabeth.

I marched through Camp with Malcolm, laser-focused on my goal. I passed a few other campers I knew and we exchanged curt nods, but neither of us tried to stop and chat. We all knew there were more important things going on now. Hopefully, we’d have the time for small talk later.

We reached the Athena Cabin, and I found a few younger, worried-looking campers hovering outside. I headed for the door and Malcolm made to follow me, but I paused and put a hand up.

“Malc, I think it might be a good idea if I go in and talk to her alone, for a second,” I said. Malcolm nodded and took a step back.

“Of course,” he said, then turned to the campers still hovering around the door. “C'mon guys, let’s go check in with Chiron and see if there’s something productive we can do to help.”

I nodded my thanks to him as he rounded up the stragglers and got them to leave, then turned back to the door. I took a deep breath, then opened it and stepped inside.

I found Annabeth in the middle of the room, papers and notes spread out all around her. She wore one of Percy’s favorite hoodies, and my heart broke a little at the sight.

“Annabeth?” I said, my voice quiet as I slowly approached her. She whirled around as soon as she saw me, and even though I’d seen her just a few months ago, I couldn’t help being struck with the realization of just how grown up she was now. It felt like yesterday she was a little seven year old wielding a ball peen hammer, ready to brain Luke, Thalia, and I when we’d first found her. Now, she was a junior in high school and almost as tall as me.

And she looked absolutely heartbroken.

“Y/N,” she breathed, staring through me as much as she was staring at me. Her blonde hair was a mess in its pony tail, and she had mascara smeared around her eyes like she’d been rubbing at them. I took a few more steps across the room, and she didn’t move an inch the whole time. Finally, I got close enough to pull her into a hug. As soon as I wrapped my arms around her, she collapsed into me, and I could feel her sobbing even though the tears were silent.

“Oh, Beth…” I breathed as I held her tighter. I wanted to take the pain away, but I knew from plenty of experience that there was nothing I could do except be there for her.

We stayed like that for a few long minutes, not speaking, and I could tell this was an emotion dump that Annabeth had been fighting off for a long, long time. Finally, though, she shifted a little bit, resting her head on my shoulder as the tears slowly calmed.

“We were supposed to be done with this,” she finally muttered. I rubbed calm, slow circles on her back as she continued. “When we beat Kronos in New York, it was supposed to be over. Some terrible prophecy from Rachel for the next generation of demigods. Not us.”

“It’s not fair,” I echoed, squeezing her as tight as I could. “It’s total bullshit that after everything you’ve been through, you have to deal with something else, Annabeth.”

She took a few more shaky breaths, but didn’t pull away from me. She breathed in like she was getting ready to say something, but then paused. I stayed silent, waiting, letting her take her time. Finally she breathed, barely above a whisper, “I’m just sick of feeling so alone. With Percy, I finally stopped being alone.”

My heart shattered in my chest, and I had to fight back a few tears of my own at her words. I could deal with my own emotions later, but right now, Annabeth needed me.

“Why did you feel alone before Percy?” I asked, being careful to keep any kind of judgment or opinion out of my tone. She shuddered, and I held her closer, trying to give her all the love and support I could without saying words. She didn’t pull away to look at me as she responded, her words half-mumbled like thoughts she was still working through.

“When I was a kid, we had such a clear, close group, you know?” she started. “It was you, me, Luke, Thals, and Grover against the world. And then… and then Thalia died. And Grover started working on other assignments and his own quests and goals. And… and you and Luke… got together, and you always included me, but… it wasn’t the same. And after Luke’s quest, he started getting more distant anyway, and then you left for school and Luke turned on all of us, and I’ve made other friends here, but… for most of my life, I’ve had to rely on myself. Take care of myself, be enough for myself. And I am enough for myself. But with Percy… it finally felt like I had a partner to go through everything with. And now, after we survived a war together, he’s gone. And I’m alone again.”

I waited as Annabeth finished her statement, gathering my thoughts and just in case she had something else to say. When she didn’t continue, I held her a little tighter, then spoke.

“Annabeth… I’ve felt that. A while ago and even this past semester away from Camp. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but… I remember when Luke started pulling away, after his failed quest. He was my partner in things, we told each other everything. But after that, he stopped talking to me. A little wall went up, and no matter what I did to try to tear it down, it was always there. It only got worse as time went on, and then as you know, we both basically lost him for good when he joined Kronos.”

Annabeth took a shaky breath, and I held her a little tighter, as much for my own comfort as hers. I’d worked through a lot of the trauma that had come from everything to do with Luke for the past few years, but not all of it. Still, I shook it off as well as I could and continued.

“Even in college, it’s been the same thing,” I said. “I’ve gone to all kinds of new places and met so many interesting people, but there’s a big part of who I am that I just… can’t share with them. I’m independent, and I’m glad I’m independent, but… I understand feeling like you’re not really connecting with anyone as deeply as you want to. And it sucks.

"But you will always have me, Annabeth. Just like I’ll always have you. And we will find Percy, and then you’ll have him too. No matter how much it feels like it sometimes Annabeth, I’m not alone and neither are you.”

Now it was Annabeth’s turn to squeeze me tight, so hard it almost hurt. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. After a few long moments, where plenty of things passed between us even without speaking, we finally pulled apart enough to look at each other. Annabeth still didn’t look happy, but she seemed more determined and settled in herself. That shattered look I’d seen when I’d first come through the door was gone.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she said. I gave her a light squeeze.

“Always. And hey, I promise I’m going to make more of a point of staying in touch while I’m gone, alright? This semester especially, I think I was running from… well, almost everything associated with Camp Half-Blood and all the history and pain that comes with it. But I don’t ever want to run from you. So letters, more frequent visits, an illegal cellphone, whatever. Whatever it takes to stay more in touch, yeah?”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Now let’s see what your notes are looking like on the Percy situation, huh? We’ve got a son of Poseidon to track down.”

Annabeth nodded and we finally broke completely apart as she turned to start taking me through all the notes, clues, and evidence she’d gathered so far. I stood by her side as she walked me through it all, and whenever it looked like she might be overwhelmed again, I put a hand on her shoulder and did what I could to keep her calm.

Annabeth deserved nothing but happiness, especially after everything she’d already been through. But if problems and trouble were going to keep popping up and getting in her way, then I was going to be right by her side, through all of it. No matter what.

We’d find Percy, and Annabeth would get her partner back. But I made a vow as we stood in that room, pouring over information and trying to reason out where Percy might be, that I was never disappearing on my little sister again. No matter what directions our lives took us in, or how separate our paths became, I would always be there for her. We’d been the only real constants in each others’ lives for about a decade now, and we were going to stay that way for many more decades to come.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

It was so sweet and lovely, the sanguine song tempting Aro away from the path. There, deep into the forest, was a castle. Created of white rocks, it stood out in the burning forest like a beacon, silver and gold flags dancing in the autumn breeze. And there, hidden in the shadow of a mighty oak, was a woman. He knew at once that she was a lady or some kind, dressed too finely to be a mere servant or wanderer. Dressed in a gown of blood red and adorned with garnet and diamonds, she wrapped her black cloak around herself tightly and watched the guards carefully, waiting for an opening.

“In trouble, are we?” Aro suddenly purred.

Her body stiffened at once, heartbeat dancing a little faster as her eyes, so bright and lovely, darted over her shoulder. There he was, the beautiful stranger just a little too close as she turned slowly, Aro surprising her with his quickness.

He could have killed her.

Right then, right there and without remorse, and the story would have ended with a bloodless corpse. He knew how to strike like a viper, so quick that she would not even have a moment to cry out, that pretty little song in her ribs dying away to silence. But rather then harm her, Aro surprised even himself by only leaning closer, taking in her scent. Sweet. Like roses and sugar, she was simply divine! And he was even closer, the woman pressed to the tree as he leaned low.

A gentle touch of her hand told him everything, absolutely everything.

And it was beautiful, Aro falling for her at once. Never in his life had he been so besotted with anyone, every thought and memory pulling him deeper into her. He wanted to know more, to know all of it, to drown himself in the depths of her and never arise.

But there was no time.

She was, he came to know, the princess of this kingdom, her father’s prize. But she was no simpering thing, a touch of wildness in her little soul. So often she snuck away from the castle, slipping past the guards like a shadow to find a bit of trouble. And she’d found more then she could handle now, unable to find a moment to slip back into the castle. At any moment her absence would be discovered and then, oh, then what would become of her!

Aro certainly wasn’t about to allow such a thing to happen.

He liked a bit of trouble as well, happy to help you in your time of need. Rose red eyes glanced back towards the castle, waiting for his chance to strike. And then he had your hand in his, hurrying you along as he pulled you through the shadows. Keen and quick, Aro easily snuck you back inside the castle, slipping into the library with you.

“If anyone asks,” he whispered. “you were simply reading and forgot the time!”

And then he was gone, leaving you to wander if he’d been nothing but a dream...to your delight, the dream returned once more in the dead of night, Aro appearing in the darkness.

He could not quite understand why he had come back, only that he simply had no other choice. You had awakened something within the king and he was more alive then every, every part of his being still burning with the touch of you. So he had come back, slipping into the palace easily one dark and stormy night. Laying awake, you had watched the storm in wonder, seeing monster and phantoms within the thundering clouds and brutal lightning, quick strikes carving into the sky like a knife.

But you sensed something with you…

Something cold and cruel and lovely, creeping through the shadows. Eyes searching the bedroom, you found that there was nothing...and perhaps, a quiet voice considered, it was only your imagination, spurred by the storm. But you felt so certain that something was with you, wrapping the velvet robe over your billowing nightdress before taking up the candelabra. With your quarters in the lonely tower, your father had felt satisfied to afford you some privacy, only posting guards outside the door (the only door, at that) that lead into the tower.

Creeping down the spiral staircase, shadows danced against the stain glass windows as lighting screamed through the night.

Nothing. No one.

That was until you noticed the door to your personal library ever so slightly ajar...when you were certain that you’d closed it. Reaching out with a shaking hand, you pushed the door open slowly, a low creek filling the air. Candle light formed a shield of light around you, breaking through the shadows as you walked forward. Something was with you. You saw it slipping between the shelves, a quiet hissing filling the air. Startled, the candelabra fell to the stone floor with a clattering, flames extinguished into wispy memories of smoke.

It was him...that strange, wonderous creature from before.

You felt him again, his presence creeping close. Cold hands wrapped around you, one around your waist and another around your wrist. Pulled into an embrace, you shivered with anticipation as the man whispered something beneath his breath.

“You came back...” you murmured softly, watching in wonder as a pale hand gently caressed your wrist. “I feared you were only a dream.”

But his lips proved just how real he truly was, cold and sweet all at the same time. The stranger’s name was Aro and you knew right away that he was no knave, his true nature revealing itself through the way he spoke, the way he moved, the gentle touch of his hand. He was a king, it was revealed to you, one unlike any other. Nearly every night he could, Aro would creep into your tower and you would come to learn a little more of him.

He was charming and intelligent.

He was a brutal king.

And he was a beautiful monster, showing you his true form. Aro had stayed with you through the night, waiting until sunlight spilled through the tower to reveal himself as what he true was: a vampire. You were in awe of him, watching your lover shine in the light of the morning sun, as though he were something of the universe itself. He was star-like, powerful and bright and burning, kneeling before as Aro took your hands and raised you to his lips.

“Become mine!” Aro begged. “Be mine for all of eternity, my love, and I will become yours.”

He offered himself to you entirely and you took every piece of you lover, the passion you shared only burning brighter with each passing night.

But your father had other plans for you.

The kingdom he claimed as his own was not mighty as some but it was prosperous, the vaults filled to the brim and the noblemen fat and happy. Many wished to make good with the king and what better treaty then a marriage? And just like that you were engaged to a man you’d never even met, the entire kingdom bustling about for the royal wedding.

“I don’t want this,” you confessed to Aro. “I cannot marry this man!”

“And you won’t,” your lover said sweetly. “I will not allow you to be treated like this, my heart. Play your role and be patient, I will take care of all of it.”

You trusted him completely, Aro leaving you with a kiss before he vanished. For some time, Aro did not return...but you knew that he was there, rumors whispering through the kingdom like serpents in dark waters. Tragedy had befallen House Lyon, strange things happening here and there. Sudden plagues, fire breaking out without any discernible destroying everything it touched, vanishings. The horses fled from the stables as though something terrified them, only one left. A hunting party turned into a search party with no answer, three lords vanishing without a trace.

But the misfortune was not enough to dissuade the prince, arriving to your father’s castle with all of the pompous display one would imagine of him. The sight of your husband to be made your skin crawl with disgust, unable to even look at him for too long as you frantically searched the shadows.

And your father certainly noticed, seeing how distracted you were...and how often you seemed to vanish, the servants claiming to witness a phantom haunting the castle. He was a brutish man, the king, but he was no fool and he knew at once that you’d taken a lover, dragging you off to scold you quietly. No matter how much you denied it, your father knew the truth, furiously interrogating you.

“This is a vile accusation!” you insisted, calm despite your anger. “I am never unguarded and rarely alone, you know this to be true.”

“You lie! To your father, to your king, you look at me and you lie.”

He struck you fiercely, ordering you to the tower and doubling the guards. Blood dripped from your lips as you were hurried away, refusing to cry for him. You would be watched, he declared, like a lamb in the den of lions until your wedding came. That would be in three days, the doors slamming with a mighty blast and the heavy locks falling into place. But mortal means could not keep your love away, Aro appearing in the night once more. Seeing the mark across your face, fury flashed in his blood red eyes, demanding to know who had dared to raise a hand to you.

“My father,” you confessed. “He’s a brute of a man...this is not the first time he has struck me.”

“Then it is the last!” Aro hissed. “I have attempted to be careful with my plotting, kind even...I see now that they are unworthy of any such kindness from me!”

Aro knelt before you, taking your hands in his. Kissing softly, you felt the fear and hurt that had plagued you fade away into bliss, his kiss a cure for all of it. He had a way of doing that, your lover, chasing away sorrow with a touch of his lips or whisper of his voice.

“Say the word and they’re dead,” he whispered. “Blood for blood!”

Had you been kinder, you never would have dreamed of such a thing.

But you were no such thing and neither were they, always treated as a possession instead of a person. You had been your father’s daughter, the kingdom’s princess, and now you ere to be some bastard’s blushing bride and eventual womb. Every slap echoed in your mind, the cruel punishments when you failed to be perfect, your father drunk and screaming at you again and again...and now he would be silenced forever.

Kissing him sweetly, Aro knew your answer at once and smiled into your lips. He watched over you through the night, promising to return in time for the wedding.

You were a beautiful bride.

The gown of white and gold glittered with thousands of diamonds, veil dragging behind you like a river of lace. And you played the part well, blushing sweetly and smiling at all of the right moments, the perfect little bride.

Oh, if only they’d known the truth!

All the lords and ladies watched on as you walked slowly down the aisle, your father keeping you in a vice grip. The priest with his long-winded speech on honor and love, the king’s glare, and the groom’s drunken smile...you only smiled sweetly in return, silently praying for Aro to rescue your from this nightmare. As though he heard your pleas, Aro appeared like a war god, drenched in blood and crazed as he smiled. The wedding guests gasped in horror but it was far too late, his army appearing like monsters in the darkness,

In a brutal flash, the lords and ladies lay dead at your feet, the king and the prince soon following.

Aro took great pleasure in ripping off the hands that had harmed you, a hateful smile on his face as the king collapsed in a bloodied heap. The once glorious gown was stained blood red, the twisted faces of all you’d ever known laying around like a bloodied rose garden...and you did not care at all, happily falling into Aro’s embrace beneath the flowered arches.

History would call it a tragedy.

The royal wedding was destroyed by a brutal fire, killing all inside. Most were accounted for except for the bride, only her blacked and bloodied veil found in the heap of bodies. The kingdom would fall apart for a decade, torn between a brutal war for power, though in time peace would come again. And the terrible wedding would become a tragedy in the history books...and the poor, poor princess would become the most tragic little thing of all. She would remain a thing of legend, Princess Y/N, her ghost said to haunt the castle to this day, still wandering in her wedding gown and searching for her dear groom.

Foolish mortals!

If only they knew the truth of if, the ghostly princess becoming an immortal queen. You would haunt the earth forever and a day, still by the side of your truest lover, your king, your darling Aro!

Even all of these years later, you still loved him madly.

And the king loved you, falling for you a little more every day. Even all of these centuries later, you still had him wrapped around your little fingers, worshiping you and killing for you...and he found that he still did not mind. You were the only creature upon the earth that had any power over him, using your power only for love and blood.

Alice was as calm and as chipper as always, ordering Jasper to try to calm the other two as Emmett, in his attempts to cheer you up, was just a little too rowdy.

Thank god for Carlisle.

Your mate had proved himself perfection once more, insisting that you say in the Cullen home as you recovered, which his children greatly supported. Was it strange, bring in love with a vampire? Absolutely. Did him being a single father to a hoard of odd adopted vampires make it even stranger? Without a doubt! But you would not have wanted it any other way, coming to love all of his children as though you had known them forever and ever. And Carlisle loved you even more for it, bringing you to his bedroom (ever the gentleman, he took the couch downstairs) and shooing his children away as the doctor checked in.

“And how are we today, my love?”

“Shhh,” you shushed as Carlisle smiled. “You’re making my head hurt.”

The headache still rung in your head but Carlisle happily (and quietly) announced that your fever was down and you were already looking so much better. Even with how hard he worked at the hospital, Carlisle had been coming home to care for you too. And though you loved it (who wouldn’t love a beautiful man waiting on them hand and foot?), you could not help but feel a little guilty too. Carlisle was one of those terribly perfect people and sometimes you were amazed that he was yours.

“Sorry you have to take care of me too...you deserve a break.”

“Nonsense,” Carlisle replied with a kiss to your forehead. “I take care of people because I love it and I take care of you because I love you.”

Even in your sickly state he had your heart racing, Carlisle’s cold touch a comfort as he rested beside you in bed. Hand in hand, you leaned against his shoulder and closed your eyes, praying for the aching in your head to vanish. But Carlisle was quiet today, looking out the window towards the setting sun, and you could tell that something was on his mind.

“What are you thinking about?” you mumbled against him, voice muffled.

“Everything, I suppose.” Carlisle replied. “I know that we haven’t talked much about turning you...and that is my fault. I’ve been avoiding it. But you were so sick before and I...I’ve been thinking about it more often.”

“Have you?”

“Yes. And when you are well, I would like to talk about it more.”

You knew that it was a difficult topic for all of the Cullens, not a single one of them having chosen to be turned. And while they had found such happiness now, it still haunted them...the fear and the pain, all of the choices that had been taken from them. And perhaps that was why Carlisle had avoided the topic for so long, no matter how much you tried to broach the subject. It was that same fear, you knew, not wanting to be the monster in your story.

But he seemed to be forgetting that it was your choice to make and your life to give, if only he would accept it.

There was nothing you wanted more in this world then to be with Carlisle Cullen.

You had loved him from the moment you’d met him and nothing could change that, not being attacked (and nearly killed) by another vampire and not even when he had exposed himself to you (only in an effort to protect you). Yes, you loved this strange and beautiful man! And if you could love him for all eternity, you would happily accept such a gift. That’s what such a thing was to you, not a curse but rather a gift.

But all of that could wait for another day.

For now, you were tired, laying in bed with your love as the last rays of light set within his eyes. He looked like an angel, heavenly and perfect, though he would deny being either. Reaching up, you played with his blonde curls and he smiled at the touch of you, reaching for the Bible on his bedside table. It was old, older then you were, and well loved, Carlisle reading from it so often.

“May I read to you?”

“Always,” you replied.

You loved the sound of his voice, clear and sweet and smooth, and could listen to him read the ingredients off of a can of soup and still love it. But today he read you something sweeter, turning to the Song of Solomon and reading aloud in a gentle voice.

“Behold, you are beautiful, my love; behold, you are beautiful, your eyes are doves. Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly delightful...”

He read until you fell asleep once more, dreaming of garden of pearls and lilies and thorny roses. There was light there, a glorious light, and you ran into the golden glow, finding within the sun an angel with outstretched arms and your name upon his lips. You fell into your angel’s arms and became one with the heavens, vanishing with him into forever.

His light was never ending and so was your love.

After acquainting yourself with the area, you quickly get to work.  The messenger bag slides off your shoulder and falls to the ground, disturbing the pristine grass beneath you.  You pull out the aged tome that you had stolen from the widower’s home.  With his wife gone and him not having the Ability, he had no use for it.  You, however, do.  You open the book, flipping through pages carelessly as you find the passages you were looking for.  It didn’t matter to you if the pages around it fell apart or ripped; when you finally got what you desired, you could fix it.  If that was something you chose to do.

“Heh,” you murmur in victory, finding the passages you had marked.  You hold the book on either side and bend it backwards, breaking its spine so it would lay flat in the dirt.  You place it on the ground and press a palm into the middle, pushing down just in case.  When you pull your hand back, the pages lie open.  Ignoring it for the moment, you kneel and pull out a menagerie of glass containers.  They ranged in size, shape, and color.  On each container, your rushed handwriting told you what was inside.  A sprig of hawthorn, containing both flowers and berries, resides in a long, skinny, light green bottle.  The blood of a stone sloshed around in a vial the size of your thumb, closed off by a cork.  The laughter of a swine, the sneeze of a worm, food stolen from a left-handed woman in her third trimester while she sang.  All of those ingredients and more were in the glass surrounding you.

Finally, you pull out a mortar and pestle.  The summoning required that you chose the stone it was made from, but not that you had to make it.  Something you were greatly appreciative of.  You decided on a black stone, rough and speckled with gray and blue throughout.  The mason’s son, Sangyeon, had crafted it into a beautiful set.  It was such a shame that it would only be used this one time.

You half-turn and drag the book back to yourself.  You set it against the now empty messenger bag, and find yourself surprised at the way you can still read every word clearly.  Despite the moon’s brightness, you had thought it would be more difficult.  You shrug it off, looking at the steps you were to follow.  Each step had several ingredients that were to be combined with the amount of times you were to crush it with the pestle.  You separate your glasses into groups for each step, figuring it would be easier in the long run.

Sand from a cloud, fire caught in sea glass, the brain of a blood minnow.  One by one, you opened the containers and tilted them over the mortar.  You kept a careful eye on the ingredients as you did, not wanting to have any spill or tumble away from the bowl.  The tome says that you need to crush them together for twenty times.  You let out a small sigh; the rest of the steps never get easier with regard to the crushing amount.  But to get what you desired, you would have to sacrifice.

The next minutes are filled with this, and the pile of empty glass containers gradually started to outnumber the full ones.  When you reach the final step, you feel like you understand why the widower didn’t use this, regardless of his having the Ability or not.  The precision and structure kind of sucked.  Especially as the forest only grew colder around you, seeping into your clothes.  You read the instructions thrice more before you complete it; if you fucked it up here, you would have to wait another year before you could do this again.  The amount of time it took to find the ingredients was more than waiting for another full moon.

Wind whirled around you, pushing you back several feet.  You shielded your eyes from it, head bending into the invisible force.  A noise fills your ears, like a shriek but multiplied over itself tenfold.  You felt like your ears were going to bleed.  For the first time since you stepped into the forest itself, you felt fear.  It sat solid like a stone in your stomach.  Despite the wind making the frost disappear on the grass, your clammy hands didn’t change.  You were pushed back another few inches, and you leaned into the breeze more in attempt to fight against it.

And then, as if the wind itself knew your intentions, the direction changed suddenly.  You drop to your knees, a gasp tearing out of your throat.  You dig your fingers into the cold, damp earth as an anchor.  The shrill noise intensifies and your knuckles turn white, the bones underneath pushing up against your skin as you tighten your grasp on the earth.

Everything stops.

You don’t realize at first; your body and mind were still dealing with the attempt to not be blown further away than you were already.  When you no longer feel your hair whipping around your face and neck, cutting into the soft skin like the ends were well sharpened knives, you realize something has changed.  Your ears ring in the sudden silence.  Opening your eyes just enough to see clearly, you force your fingers to straighten, hands pushing into the grass and dirt beneath you.  Dark brown dirt, almost black in the light of the moon, sticks to your skin.  It looks like you were trying to crawl out of a grave.  The wind had thrown grass fragments and loose dirt onto any part of your body it could find.  Your ragged breaths finally register, cutting through the ringing in your ears.  Something drips onto your hand and you look.  Whatever liquid it was, it was clear, cutting through the mess on the back of your hand.

Another drop, this time on your other hand.  Your eyes dart to it, and widen at the deep, rich red there.  Both of your hands come up to your face, and you put your fingers carefully onto your skin.  Pulling back, your fingertips are covered in blood and tears.  You hadn’t thought you would cry from this summoning attempt, but it appears you were gravely mistaken.  Your hands are shaking in front of you.  You don’t know if it was just your hands that shook, or if it was your whole being.