heroes get remembered (legends never die)

“Using your shield as a weapon is a lost art,” Coulson says, and Fitz and the other campers groan. He’s been here for four days and he’s already heard the speech twice. He can’t imagine how many times the Hermes kids have heard it.

“We can’t all be Steve Rogers,” calls someone from the back, and Coulson rolls his eyes.

“I don’t believe I implied that any of you could be Steve Rogers. Only that using your shield as a weapon is a lost art, which should receive more recognition than it does.” This produces another round of groans. Coulson is the only person in camp that Fitz has seen who uses his shield as a primary weapon; he has a sword, but he hardly ever wears it, much less uses it.

Fitz glances down at his own shield, which isn’t nearly as large as Coulson’s; the cabin leader had taken him, Jemma and Skye down to the armory their first morning at camp and gotten them fitted out. Jemma, with her dual knives, hadn’t been given a shield, and Fitz is kind of jealous. He still hasn’t told anyone at camp about his pyrokinesis, but he doesn’t like not having a free hand when he fights.

Jemma pokes him in the side, and he realizes he’s zoned out of the lesson. Coulson has abandoned his huge bronze shield, reluctantly, Fitz assumes, and borrowed a sword and shield from someone in the front, pulling Skye up to demonstrate something. He does something with his shield that Fitz can’t figure out, even in slow motion, and Skye’s sword goes skittering across the dirt. There’s a scattering of applause from the gathered campers as she goes to retrieve it, and then repositions herself so they can spar full speed.

Coulson knocks her sword away twice more, but the third time, she ducks under his swinging shield and sweeps her own shield against his legs. The older boy tumbles, landing hard on his back. He sits up with a groan, but he’s smiling, brushing himself off as he stands.

“That was great, Skye! See, what was I telling you guys,” Coulson says as he turns toward the audience, but no one is watching him. They’re all staring at Skye, specifically the glowing pink shape that’s appeared about a foot over her head. “Go get Chiron,” Coulson instructs, once he turns back around and sees the symbol. Someone from the back of the crowd takes off running towards the archery range, and Fitz moves to stand next to Skye, with Jemma doing the same on her other side.

Chiron gallops in, followed by a group of campers, which Fitz assumes is his archery class. Mike comes trotting up a few seconds later, smiling. Standing closer to Skye, Fitz can see that the pink shape is a bird of some kind.

The crowd parts to let the centaur through, and a couple of girls from his class follow him to the front. Chiron is smiling now, and Fitz relaxes slightly, figuring it can’t be anything too bad, since pretty much everyone seems pretty happy.

“Hail, Skye. Daughter of Aphrodite,” Chiron says. The crowd that’s gathered applauds, and the girls that had followed Chiron rush towards Skye. Fitz vaguely recognizes them as being from the Aphrodite cabin, and he realizes with a start that that means they’re Skye’s sisters. She glances over her shoulder at Fitz and Jemma with a small smile, but the two girls, talking extremely fast and tugging on her arms, pull her away before she can say anything.

———————

“You know, I never got a chance to really thank you for saving my life,” Skye says from behind him, and Fitz turns away from his work. Because of the spike on the one side of Pyrrhos, it won’t really work with any of the scabbards in the armory, so he’s taken it upon himself to make one. Chiron and Coulson had both told him that anyone was allowed to use the forge, whether they’d been claimed or not, and Fitz had jumped at the chance to get his hands on some proper tools.

“You’re welcome,” he says, and then squints, “Did you do something different with your hair, or something?”

Skye rolls her eyes, “Apparently, a makeover is pretty much a right of passage in the Aphrodite cabin. I’m lucky I managed to talk them down to only this much.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, since he doesn’t really know enough about hair or clothes or anything of the sort to make an informed comment. “How is it, you know, being claimed?”

She shrugs, “It’s okay, I guess. My siblings are nice, and it’s nice to finally have some answers about at least one of my parents. Uh, Fitz?”

“Yeah?”

“If you want to keep the whole ‘fireproof’ thing a secret, you might want to, you know,” she says, pointing, and he realizes he’s holding onto the red hot metal of the scabbard with his bare hands.

“Oh, right,” he says, setting the piece down on the anvil he’d been working on. The forge is deserted at the moment, but he should probably be more careful.

“Why are you keeping it a secret anyway? I mean, that’s like a super power. The only people at camp I’ve seen that can do anything even close to that are the Demeter kids.”

Fitz shrugs, “I guess I’ve just kept it a secret for so long that it’s hard to just tell everyone. I mean, before I rescued you, the only people in the whole world who knew were my mum and Jemma.”

It’s more complicated than that, really, but he’s not sure how to put it into words. Part of him keeps hoping that someone in camp will suddenly display the same powers, and another part is wondering if his godly parent will claim him without him showing off his pyrokinesis. Mostly though, he’s not sure how you’re supposed to tell a camp full of people that you’re fireproof and can start fires by thinking about it, even if those people are the half-mortal children of Greek gods.

“Well, however they react when you finally decide to tell everyone, I’m on your side. And not just because you saved my life.”

Fitz shrugs, fiddling with the cooling scabbard, “Anyone would have done it.”

“Pretty sure that’s not true. And anyway, they wouldn’t have been able to do the whole ‘pulling me through raging flames bit,’ even if they had come in after me. So thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll stop bothering you now, so you can get back to work on your sword thing.”

“Scabbard. I’ve got to put a gap in one side because-”

“Fitz?”

"Yeah?"

“You saved my life, and I would totally like, ride into battle with you, but please don’t make me stand here and listen to you talk about your sword thing. I’ll go get Jemma to do it for me, if you want.”

“Bye, Skye.”

——————

Fitz is sitting alone at dinner, picking at his food. It’s been three days since Skye was claimed, and she’s been sitting at the Aphrodite table since, leaving Fitz and Jemma sitting at the small table next to the main Hermes one, except that Jemma hasn’t shown up yet tonight. Coulson had offered to let him sit at the Hermes table proper, which was already a little crowded, but Fitz had declined. For all he knows, the Hermes kids really are his siblings, and they’re nice enough, if prone to mischief, but he doesn’t really fit in with them. Not that he fits in with any of the other cabins, as far as he can tell; there’s been absolutely no sign from his godly parent as to who they might be.

After a few minutes, he gives up on his food and sets off in search of Jemma; it’s strange to eat by himself, surrounded by tables full of kids. When he reaches the Hermes cabin, and peers in, he’s surprised to see Jemma sitting on his bed, surrounded by books and in tears. She doesn’t appear to even notice he’s walked in until he crouches down beside the bed.

“Jem? Jemma, what’s wrong?” he asks, not sure what to do.

“I can read them,” she says, laughing a little, and Fitz looks at her in confusion before glancing around at the stacks of books around her. To his surprise, the titles don’t swim off the covers like they usually do. They’re not in English, but after staring at them for a few seconds, he can read them too.

“They’re in Ancient Greek,” Jemma explains.

“I don’t know Ancient Greek.”

“Apparently you do. We all do. It’s what causes our dyslexia. Our brains are hardwired for Ancient Greek, which is what all these books are written in. I can read them,” she says, rubbing her eyes, but she’s smiling, “Some of them are very old, but a lot of them are translations of newer books. Biology, chemistry, fiction, there’s a couple of engineering textbooks for you.”

Fitz smiles at her excitement. Jemma’s always dealt with her dyslexia better than he has, or at least she’s always been better at hiding her frustration, but he knows it bothers her. It’s nice to see her this happy.

“Who gave you the books?” he asks, looking through some of the stacks.

“May, from Demeter. Said she thought I might like them, explained about the Ancient Greek and the dyslexia.”

“And you’ve been sitting here reading for what, two hours now?” Jemma blushes, and Fitz laughs, “Come on, you’ve got to be hungry.”

He helps her stack the books neatly under her bed, and then they head towards the dining pavillion. It’s fairly unusual for people to arrive this late to dinner, so Fitz assumes that’s why people are staring at them.

“But she doesn’t even look like us,” says one of the guys at the Athena table, and Fitz turns to look at him in confusion, only to find the whole table, and the rest of the campers, staring back at him and Jemma, with a few notable exceptions; Skye, Coulson and May are all glaring at the Athena kid who’d spoken. He turns back to ask Jemma if she knows what’s going on, and that’s when he sees the glowing silver symbol above her head. It’s a bird, like Skye’s had been, but it’s pretty clearly an owl, not Aphrodite’s dove.

“Hail, Jemma Simmons, daughter of Athena,” Chiron says from where he’s risen behind the main table, and there’s a smattering of applause from the gathered campers.

Fitz doesn’t know what to say. His best friend has just been claimed, and she’s staring at him, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to say.

“I suppose, um,” he tries, “I suppose you’ll need someone to help you move all your books.”

She eats with him at the unclaimed table and nobody says anything, and then they head back to the Hermes cabin. It doesn’t take long to move her stuff, since she hasn’t had much of a chance to unpack in the week they’ve been at camp. They make a few trips to move her new books over, and then there’s just her backpack left, which Jemma assures him she can handle on her own. He still doesn’t know what to say. This will be the first night in nearly a year that they haven’t slept in the same place.

“I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow morning,” she says, and Fitz nods.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, you’ll be at the Athena table and I’ll still be over by Hermes, but yeah.” He can’t bear to call himself unclaimed, not right now.

“Right,” Jemma says, likes that’s only just dawning on her now, “Well, good night, Fitz.”

“Night,” he replies, and then they stand there for a few moments before Jemma steps in close enough to give him a hug. Fitz hugs her back, trying not to hold on too tightly, and then with one last smile, she disappears towards her new cabin and he turns back to Hermes.

He stares at the door for a long time, but he can’t bring himself to go in. Eventually, he turns and sets off across camp, with no real idea where he’s going. Walking out in the open wearing a bright orange t-shirt, he’s not really making any effort to hide, since he doesn’t really care that much about getting caught out after curfew. He doesn’t stop until he realizes he’s reached the strawberry fields.

Overwhelmed for a second by the now familiar smell from his dreams, Fitz sits down among the vines, staring out over Long Island Sound. Mike had explained that there was magic surrounding the camp that kept the weather nice within the borders, and he wonders if it also keeps out light pollution; he’s never seen so many stars before. Jemma’s book has a couple pages on constellations, and he tries to pick them out, realizing that all the stories behind them are probably true, which is kind of a strange idea to try to wrap his head around.

He lays back to get a better view, and doesn’t really notice he’s drifting off until he wakes up to someone draping a blanket over his legs. Fitz sits up to see May standing by his feet.

“Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he starts, but she just shrugs.

“If the harpies don’t care, I certainly don’t. Just don’t crush too many of the plants. My siblings will freak out.”

“Right. Uh, thanks,” he says, indicating the blanket. She’s giving him a strange look, and it’s slightly unsettling until he remembers that she’d just found him sleeping in the strawberry fields.

“No problem. See you at breakfast tomorrow,” she replies, and then disappears back towards camp. He almost follows her, but he still can’t bring himself to think about sleeping in the Hermes cabin, and it’s not like he’s not used to sleeping outside. Tugging the blanket up to his chin, he rolls over, careful of the strawberry plants, and goes back to sleep.

—————

Jemma’s sitting at the unclaimed table the next morning. Fitz had slept surprisingly well, all things considered, or he would think he was seeing things. He takes his seat across from her after scrapping some of his eggs into the fire.

“Jem?”

“Morning,” she says, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re still sitting here.”

She rolls her eyes, like what he’s saying is ridiculous, “Of course I am. I’m not going to leave my best friend sitting here alone.”

“It’s fine,” he says, swallowing past the lump that’s formed in his throat. Fitz looks over toward the Athena table, where none of her siblings seem all that bothered by the fact that Jemma isn’t sitting by them. He can see what the guy last night had meant when he said that Jemma doesn’t look like them; they’ve all got blond hair and grey eyes, which Jemma doesn’t. She’s carefully avoiding looking that way, and it’s becoming clearer to him why she might not want to sit at that table.

“Jemma, are they being- I mean, are your siblings-?”

“Fitz, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! If they’re saying-”

“Fitz,” she says sharply, cutting him off, “It’s fine, okay? I like sitting with you.” She doesn’t really sound all that fine, but Fitz lets the subject drop.

At dinner that night, Skye and Trip from Apollo, the guy who’d shot down the gryphon who had tried to grab Mike the day they’d shown up at camp, sit with them, and the next morning at breakfast, May sits next to him, not saying anything but glaring over at the Athena table the entire time she eats. Coulson slides over from the Hermes table about halfway through, saying he needs to tell Fitz something about their schedule that day, but pulling his food along with him and staying until Chiron dismisses everyone.

After a few days, Fitz realizes that, for all the difficulties she’s clearly having fitting into her new cabin, Jemma really is sitting at the unclaimed table to make sure he’s not sitting alone, and what’s more, she’s recruiting the others to her cause. He’s thankful, but he can’t help feeling like a charity case. It wasn’t so bad when Skye and Jemma were with him, but unclaimed is starting to feel like a dark cloud hanging over his head that the whole camp can see, and there’s still been no sign at all from his godly parent.

——————-

“You really have been sleeping out here,” Jemma says, and Fitz sits up, blushing.

“Er, yeah, for about three weeks now.”

“Since I got claimed,” she says, sitting down next to him.

He nods, “Who told you?”

“Skye.”

“How did she know?”

Jemma shrugs, “Her siblings, probably. Trip says that if you really want to know what’s going on at camp, you talk to the Aphrodite cabin.”

“Oh,” Fitz says. He hadn’t realized that anyone besides May and Coulson knew he was no longer sleeping in the Hermes cabin.

“How come you’re out here?” she asks, and he shrugs.

“Don’t really belong in the Hermes cabin. It’s nice out here, with the strawberries and the view and everything. Got kind of tired of the Hermes kids looking at me like I have some sort of deadly disease that they can’t catch but are still kind of frightened of.”

“Fitz, Coulson said you were free to stay in the Hermes cabin as long as you needed.”

“Yeah, well, he also thought I’d only be there for a week. Besides, he didn’t kick me out, I left.”

“Your father will claim you, Fitz,” Jemma says, and he sighs, staring at the ground instead of looking at her.

“It’s been a month, Jemma. Maybe I’m just here because of some fluke. Maybe I’m not even a demigod.”

“No,” she says, and Fitz turns to her, surprised at the force behind the word, “Remember in London, that night I asked you about your pyrokinesis, and you told me that you were sure we were the same? Well, now I’m sure. You’re a demigod, just as much as me or Skye or anyone else here. And if your father won’t claim you, it’s his loss, not yours.”

“Jemma, he’s a god. He probably doesn’t even care about one ki-”

“Then that’s his loss. You’re amazing, Fitz, and it’s got nothing to do with your powers or anything else. It’s just you. If he doesn’t want to claim you as his son, he’s missing out.”

Fitz is quiet for a moment before he speaks up, “I could say the same thing about your siblings.”

It’s Jemma turned to be silent for a while, before she turns to him with a smile, “Yes, well, we’ve got each other, right? We’ll just wait for the rest of them to catch up,” she says, and Fitz can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah. I guess,” he says. Jemma yawns, and Fitz glances at his watch, “You should probably head back.”

She raises her eyebrows at him, “So you’re the only one allowed to sleep in the strawberry fields?”

“I, uh, I guess not?”

“Good. Scoot over.” She crawls under his blanket with him, and Fitz lies back so she can get comfortable, her head on his shoulder. He’s already more comfortable than he has been in weeks.

“Just don’t roll over on any of the strawberries. May says her siblings will be upset,” he whispers, and Jemma nods.

“She already warned me.”

“She did?”

“Yes, when she told me where you were.”

“And she just assumed that you would stay up here with me?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anyone left in camp who doesn’t know I’ve been sleeping up here, or who didn’t feel the need to tell you about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“That’s good to know then. That people are just going to-”

“Go to sleep, Fitz.”

—————-

The camp bonfires are Fitz’s favorite. They have them a couple of times a week, and they’re one of the few times at camp where being unclaimed doesn’t seem to be such a noticeable thing. Everyone sits with mixed in with everyone else, rather than keeping with their cabins, and so Fitz doesn’t feel like the whole camp is staring at him because his Olympian parent still hasn’t acknowledged his existence.

He’s sitting at the back of the group gathered in the amphitheater with Jemma and Skye, who is quizzing Mike and Trip, one row below them, about Grant Ward from Ares, the guy with the spear who’d been with the patrol that had found them fighting the gryphons. Fitz honestly doesn’t understand her interest in Ward, who as far as he can tell spends most of the limited time he’s not doing chores or practicing in the arena with his spear glaring broodily at anyone who happens across his path.

Trip shrugs at most of Skye’s questions, “Listen, what I know is that he showed up to camp when he was seven or eight, which is pretty young for a demigod, got claimed pretty quickly, and then John Garrett, who is now the head of Ares, took him under his wing, because he had also shown up at camp when he was really young.”

“Spear was a gift from his dad,” Mike adds, “He’s one of the best fighters in camp, and one of the best spearsmen that the camp’s ever seen, according to Chiron, who has seen a lot of spear fighters. Has gone on a couple quests, nothing spectacular. Keeps to himself mostly. Will probably become the head of Ares cabin when Garrett leaves in a couple years.”

Skye listens raptly to all of this, although Fitz isn’t sure what good any of it will do her in trying to get Ward to like her. She looks over at where he and Garrett are sitting and talking, a couple rows between them and the rest of the campers, then down at the campfire with a groan.

“Mike, will you go roast my marshmallows for me?” she asks, grinning at the satyr.

“It’s like ten steps, Skye.”

“It’s like twelve steps. Twelve steps there, twelve steps back. It’s basically a marathon. Trip?” she says, turning her smile on the older boy.

“No way. Go down there yourself or enjoy your cold marshmallows. It’s not like cold marshmallows are awful or anything.”

“They are when the promise of roasted marshmallows are so close-”

“See!”

“-And yet so far away,” she finishes, and Trip rolls his eyes. Skye heaves two exaggerated sighs before Fitz holds out his arm.

“Here,” he says, and lets his hand light before he really even thinks about it. Skye, who has seen him run through fire, doesn’t even pause before holding her marshmallows out over the small flame. Fitz turns to say something to Trip, only to find the older boy and Mike staring at him with wide eyes. He realizes then that everyone has gone silent, even the Apollo campers at the front who had been leading the sing-along.

At first he assumes that the red glow is from the fire, but Jemma nudges his shoulder and points upward, towards the red hammer hanging above his head. For a few seconds, he just stares, unsure of how to react to finally, finally being claimed, before looking down at the crowd. Coulson and May are standing, as are Ward and Garrett, which Fitz thinks is strange, since they’ve never shown any interest in him as far as he can remember. It’s Chiron who finally breaks the silence.

“Hail, Leopold Fitz, son of Hephaestus,” the centaur says, but no one rushes forward, like they had for Skye, and no one claps. They just keep staring. It takes a few moments for Fitz to see that they’re not staring at the fading red symbol above him, or even at him, really.

Every eye in camp is on the small flame still burning in his right hand.