part 13
By the last week of summer, the list of names on the Big House’s door has reached twenty-nine. To make things worse, multiple satyrs have returned to camp with news that potential demigods they had been watching had disappeared without a trace. More than twice as many kids than last year are planning on staying at least part of the school year at Camp Half-Blood, and Chiron is setting up a fairly elaborate Iris messaging system, insisting that those going home stay in touch with camp and with each other.
The cabin leaders have been spending more time at the Big House than anywhere else over the past few weeks, so Fitz is surprised when Anne shows up at the forge in the early afternoon. He and Jemma are updating the Hephaestus chariot blueprints with their modifications. When they’d finally been able to hold the races, the combined Athena and Hephaestus effort had won handily; the Hephaestus campers had spent the next three days mounting one of the metal horses onto the roof of their cabin and helping the Athena kids put the other up on theirs. Chiron hadn’t stopped them, probably because he was grateful that no one had been too badly hurt during the races, and the Hermes kids had left them alone, probably because of all the booby traps.
“Hey, guys,” she says, smiling even though Fitz can see how exhausted she looks, “Jemma, you mind if I talk to Fitz alone for a couple minutes?”
“Of course not. Nate said he needed to see me about something today, anyway. I’ll see if I can track him down.”
“What does he need to talk to you about?” asks Fitz, his brow furrowing, and Jemma shrugs, standing.
“It’s good news, I know that much,” Anne inserts, which makes the younger girl smile. She waves goodbye as Anne sits down, tilting her head back to rest against the wall with her eyes closed. Fitz carefully rolls the blueprints up and returns them to the bronze tube that Hephaestus cabin has been keeping them in for decades.
“Tired?” he asks, and his sister manages a soft laugh, not bothering to open her eyes.
“It’s not good that I can’t remember the last time I got a decent amount of sleep, right?” Fitz doesn’t bother answering, and she sits up, shaking herself a little with a sigh. “I’m not coming back to camp next year.”
That seems like a pretty big bombshell to drop out of nowhere like it’s nothing, and Fitz turns to her with wide eyes. He knew that she was eighteen and that eighteen was when a lot of kids spent their last summer at Camp Half-Blood, but he hadn’t really connected the two facts in his head. Besides Anne, the two older kids he spends the most time around are May and Coulson, and neither of them appeared to have any plans to leave any time soon.
“Camp will always be home, you know, but it can’t be the only place I ever call home. I’m not like May and Coulson. This place means a lot to me, but I think it’s time to move on. There’s an organization, goes back to Peggy Carter, that helps demigods out once they leave camp. Ares kid that left a few years before you got here, Nick Fury, runs it now. Some kids use it as a stepping stone to get their feet under them and some stay for good. Anyway, Fury offered me a job that means I’ll have time to go to college and hopefully some back-up if monsters try to eat me.”
“I know it probably feels like I’m bailing, but this can’t be my whole life, not like it is for some people. Having a god for a dad, fighting monsters, it being considered something of a miracle that I’ve made it this far. I can’t be defined by only that forever. And if you ever need me, I’ll be back in a heartbeat. But I can’t spend all my heartbeats here.”
“I guess I’d just never thought about you leaving.”
“I really am a timeless piece of camp, I know that. But my leaving means that somebody has to replace me as head camper for Hephaestus. You, in fact.”
If he thought the news of her leaving was a huge surprise, Fitz isn’t exactly sure what to classify this as.
“M-Me?”
“You,” Anne says, in the same tone of voice she would use if she were telling him they’ve got a training session before dinner tonight or which swords in the armory need work. “The kids got together last night and voted, while you were out sleeping in the strawberry field. That was actually kind of convenient, then, although you’ll probably have to do at least a little less of it now that you’re running the place.”
“But, why me? Why not Bailey, or–”
“Bailey’s the one who nominated you in the first place, and you were the only candidate. Come on, Fitz, is it really that hard for you to see that you’ve become a leader in Hephaestus, and for a lot of other kids in camp? You’re the oldest kid in the cabin, now, and you look after the kids, even if you don’t notice yourself doing it. Plus, I think they decided that if the Fates think you can beat a Titan and save the world, they can at least trust you to help them defend the Capture the Flag title.”
Fitz sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck, and Anne laughs.
“Come on, Fitz, we can’t all be Grant Ward. You think I was ready a few years ago when Charlie dumped it on me? You do your best, you look after your kids, you try to give good advice at council.”
“That easy, huh?”
“No. But I think you’ll do alright. Plus, you’re not the only one getting promoted today. You can help each other figure it out.”
It takes Fitz a few seconds to figure out what she’s saying, and he can’t help his smile.
“That’s what Nate needed to tell her?”
“Yeah. You can go congratulate her if you want. Lunch is starting, so she’s probably down at the pavilion. Not that you need me to help you find your other half,” she says, and Fitz blushes.
“Do I need to sit at the table now?”
Anne laughs. “Sometimes, probably. I don’t think the others would mind too much if you kept up old habits though. Means they can sit wherever they want if the mood strikes them. Now, stop worrying so much, and go congratulate Jemma.”
He heads toward the dining pavilion, but Jemma finds him first, running up from the direction of the cabins. Before Fitz can say anything, she hugs him without slowing down, forcing him to wrap his arms around her and spin to keep his balance.
“You’ll never believe what Nate needed to tell me,” she says, face pressed against his shoulder, and he can feel her smiling.
“I’ll bet you a drachma you’re wrong.”
It takes her a few seconds to react, pulling away from him to look at his face, and then her smile grows.
“That’s what Anne needed to talk to you about?”
Fitz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Anne needed to talk to me just so that you could go talk to Nate and she could tell me your good news.”
Jemma returns the eye roll. “I mean– You, too?”
His smile must give him away, because she hugs him again instead of waiting for an actual answer, and he hugs her back, turning to press his face against her hair. He knows how much it must mean to her that her siblings had chosen her, especially after how wary they had been about her when she’d first been claimed. Fitz wishes he’d seen her face in the moment Nate had told her.
“Oh, no, not you two also,” Skye says, and Fitz pulls away from Jemma to see her walking up from the arena, Ward and Trip trailing after her.
“Also?” Jemma asks, and Skye tilts her head back in Trip’s direction.
“The new head of Apollo cabin.”
“Congratulations, Trip,” Fitz says, and Trip responds with a grin. Skye groans.
“Sure, congratulations all around, but what am I supposed to do while you guys are making incredibly important decisions for the camp?”
“Hang out with your other friends?”
“She doesn’t have any other friends,” Fitz says, and is promptly punched in the arm by Skye for his trouble.
“Come on, let’s go to lunch before Skye hurts Fitz,” Ward says, “Maybe she can make some new friends there.”
Ward gets punched too.
————-
The end of summer bonfire is a pretty somber affair this year, and the bead the head campers decide on is black with a silver arrow. Akela is at the ceremony where they’re passed out, although she doesn’t say anything and stays at the back of the crowd. She nods at Fitz when they make eye contact, which is sort of comforting, but disappears before he gets a chance to talk to her.
The next day, Fitz helps his siblings move their stuff out to the van for Argus to take them into New York City. He and Anne are the only ones left when Chiron gives the fifteen minute warning for the last trip of the day. Anne sighs, tossing a last few things into the trash and gathering up her bags.
“Well, I suppose this is it. You can move your stuff up here once I’m out the door,” she says, nodding down at the bed, “It’s your right as the cabin head. Keep in touch with everybody, keep an eye on them if they come back. I’m only an Iris call away if something happens, or if you just need to talk.”
Fitz nods. “Good luck. With your job, and college, and everything.”
“Thanks. Good luck to you, too. I’ve got a feeling you might need it more.”
“Need help with your bags?” he asks as she picks them up, but she shakes her head.
Anne stops in the doorway, one hand drifting across the seven beads of her necklace, and let’s out a long breath.
“Do good, Fitz,” she says with a small smile, and then disappears out of the cabin.
—————
Chiron had given him the day off from taking a shift watching for incoming Iris messages, but he was down on the beach anyway, since Jemma had the last shift of the day before the sun went down. She’s reading, glancing up every once and a while to check that the spray system is still working, and Fitz is stretched out next to her, trying not to doze off in the August heat. That problem is solved when Skye comes running down towards them, calling for Jemma.
“Is someone dying?” Fitz asks, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up.
“No, I just need to talk to Jemma about something important.”
“What?” he asks, and Jemma pokes him, probably for being rude.
“Girl stuff, Fitz, gods,” Skye answers, clearly hoping that will be the end of it, but he just raises his eyebrows, “Ward and I kissed, and I need to talk to Jemma about it, okay? Unless you want to give me some advice?”
Fitz blushes, “No.”
“Good. C’mon, Jemma.”
“I’ve still got an hour left on my shift,” Jemma says, and Skye turns to Fitz, who rolls his eyes but smiles.
“I’ll watch it.”
“I don’t want to make you work on your birthday.”
He rolls his eyes again, “It’s not even really my birthday. It’s fine.”
Jemma hesitates for a minute until Skye starts tugging on her sleeve, then gives in with a sigh.
“All right. We’ll be back down for your bonfire in a bit.”
Jemma and Skye head up towards the cabins, and Fitz settles down to keep an eye on the mist. He wishes he’d brought something to work on or fiddle with along like he usually does, but it’s only a few minutes before a familiar face appears in the water in front of him.
“Chip, is everything alright? Are you okay?”
Chip is the youngest of the Hephaestus kids, almost five years younger than Fitz, and they’d all been nervous about letting him go home at the end of the summer with everything that was going on.
“I’m okay. It’s just- do you think maybe I could come back to camp? There’s been a lot of monsters around, and I know they usually leave mortals alone, but my mom’s here and I don’t– I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
“Hey, I get it, don’t worry about it. Of course you can come back. Do we need to come get you, or–?”
“My mom and I can get to NYC, if Argus can pick me up there. Has anybody else come back?”
“Bailey came back a few weeks ago. I’ll talk to Chiron, and you let us know when you need Argus, or if anything else happens. Somebody’ll be watching the Iris messages.”
Chip thanks him and disappears from the mist, and Fitz relaxes back into the grass with a sigh. Last summer, he’d liked having the cabin to himself just fine, especially since Jemma was usually there with him, but after the last summer and all the disappearances, particularly Donnie’s, it’s nice to have his siblings around.
“Working on your birthday, gearhead? That’s just sad,” Trip says, and Fitz looks up to see him walking up the beach towards him.
“It’s not actually my birthday, sunshine. I don’t know what’s so confusing about that for all of you.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re having your party tonight, so it counts. Who in Hades complains about getting two days of birthday?”
Nobody is talking about why they’re celebrating a day early, but with the prophecy and a hero’s sixteenth birthday dawns hanging over everything, they don’t really need to be all that specific. They’ll probably celebrate again tomorrow if nothing catastrophic happens, especially since Trip and Skye are always looking for reasons to have bonfires down on the beach.
“It’s Jemma’s shift, but Ward kissed Skye and apparently she needed to, uh, talk to Jemma about it, or whatever.”
“Ah, so that’s why Skye was running around squeaking earlier when I was giving Fred the money to go get the pizza.”
“She was squeaking?” Fitz asks, and Trip smiles.
“Nah, that’s not really her style. She was pretty excited, though. Not really that surprising, since they’ve liked each other forever.”
Fitz laughs, lying back on the grass, figuring that he’ll hear anyone messaging camp, and Trip’s here, besides.
“You made one of your siblings go get the pizza?”
“There are some advantages to being cabin head,” Trip says, laughing, “Plus, Freddy volunteered, and Argus and Mike are with him. He’ll be ok, he’s a sharp kid and it’s just a pizza run. Now, let’s get the bonfire going, see if we can draw some company down here to celebrate.”
Jemma and Skye come back down while Fitz and Trip are dragging driftwood over, with Ward in tow. Skye has both hands wrapped around one of Ward’s arms, and they keep smiling at each other shyly. Trip makes gagging noises several times, but he’s grinning when he does it and Skye just sticks her tongue out at him while Ward blushes. People start to drift down, and they respond with cheers when Fred and Mike arrive with the pizza, and again when Fitz, indulging in a little showmanship, lights the bonfire with a flick of his hand.
It’s a good celebration, bigger than last year with more kids in camp for the year. Once the pizza has been exhausted, someone runs up to the dining pavilion and grabs s’more stuff. After a few hours, the party starts to break up, the campers who know why they’re celebrating wishing Fitz happy birthday as they leave; Jemma pokes him in the ribs every time he opens his mouth to tell people it’s not actually his birthday. May and Coulson are among the last to leave.
“Happy birthday, Fitz,” May says, and surprises him by leaning over and pressing a kiss against the top of his head. She does the same to Jemma, and then walks back up towards the cabin, holding hands with Coulson.
It’s good to see them happy, since both of them have clearly been putting a lot of pressure on themselves lately as the camp leaders. Fitz can’t be sure, but he’s also pretty sure that May is blaming herself for whatever might be ahead for him and Jemma because of the prophecy, for reasons he doesn’t understand.
Trip stands up a few minutes later, and Ward and Skye follow suit, Ward’s arm around her shoulders.
“I better check in with my siblings and get to bed. Left your tea in your cabin, so happy birthday, gearhead,” Trip says, then tugs on Fitz’s sleeve enough so he can bend down and press a quick kiss against Fitz’s temple, which he’s gotten into the habit of doing, “I’ll say it to you again tomorrow too, for good measure. Maybe I’ll try to track down some more tea to celebrate the occasion.”
Fitz takes a weak swipe at his legs in retaliation, mumbling, “Shut up, sunshine,” and Trip dances out of the way, laughing.
“I should probably go check on my cabin, too. I’ll, um, meet you in front of Aphrodite in a couple minutes?” Ward asks, and Skye pushes up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek as she nods. They grin at each other for a few moments, until Trip tugs on Ward’s arm with a roll of his eyes and the two older boys disappear up the path back towards camp.
“Try not to worry too much about tomorrow,” Skye says. “Who knows, maybe something good will happen.”
“You kiss Ward and decide it’s a good sign of things to come?” Fitz asks, teasing, but Skye shrugs.
“It has to be a sign of something,” she says, then leans over to kiss his cheek with a smile.
Fitz and Jemma sit down by the dying bonfire for a while, until she starts to drift off against his shoulder and he nudges her awake, tilting his head up towards the strawberry fields. She nods sleepily, and they trudge up to the fields in silence. Jemma speaks once they finally settle down, curled up among the plants.
“It’s nice, about Ward and Skye.”
“Yeah,” Fitz says, glancing at her walking beside him.
He wonders if he should tell her, about the strange warm feeling that fills up his chest sometimes when he’s around her. If Ward can kiss Skye, then surely he can tell Jemma about that. Except he’s not sure exactly what he would tell her, except the idea that’s been niggling at the back of his head for a while.
But she’s his best friend, and whenever things come crashing down, tomorrow or next week or whenever it happens, he’s going to need her. Jemma has been beside him the whole time, long before prophecies and gods and camp, when they were just two kids hiding from monsters and trying to figure out why they could see them in the first place.
“Hey,” Jemma says, poking him in the stomach, and Fitz realizes she’s been trying to get his attention for a while. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, just below his watch, turning it gently so they can see the face. “Midnight. Happy birthday, Fitz.”
“You wanted to be the first to say it? For real, at least.”
“Always,” she says, “You should try to get some sleep. We don’t know what may or may not happen tomorrow.”
“I know. Who knows, maybe some other kid will wake up to have a bomb dropped on his life.”
“You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” Jemma yawns, “I’m going to sleep now. Promise you’ll do the same soon?”
Fitz nods, and she curls into his side. He stares up at the stars for a little bit before he finally drifts off.
—————
Someone kicks at Fitz’s feet a couple times, and he blinks himself awake, ready to complain to May about waking him up at such a ridiculous hour for a training session on his birthday, but instead it’s Ward, spear in hand and backpack slung over one shoulder.
“What in Hades?” he asks, forcing himself to sit up, and Ward smiles.
“It’s a nice morning, and I thought I’d go out to the woods and ruin it for a few monsters. You want to come along? It’d be good training.”
“It’s ridiculously early.” The sun is just barely up in the east.
“It’s a perfectly acceptable hour of the morning. Plus, you’re already dressed and everything,” Ward says, nodding at Fitz’s jeans and camp t-shirt. “How do you sleep like that anyway?”
Fitz shrugs. “I can sleep in anything.”
“And anywhere, apparently,” he says, looking out over the strawberry fields. Fitz just shrugs again as he stands. Him sleeping in the strawberry fields isn’t anything new by a long shot.
He glances down at Jemma, who has curled up into the warm spot on the ground he’d just vacated.
“Should I wake her up, tell her where I’m going? I don’t want her to worry.”
“I told Skye where we were going, and I think Jemma told Skye to come wake her up last night, so she’ll probably let her know,” Ward says, then tugs on the strap of his backpack, “Come on, I’ve got Coke and Oreos.”
“Real Oreos?”
“Yeah, grabbed them when I went to New York with May and Jemma last week.” Fitz holds his hand out in expectation but Ward shakes his head. “No Oreos for breakfast. At least not until we’ve killed a couple of monsters.”
Fitz grumbles as he straps on his sword, but follows Ward as he heads towards the woods. They don’t talk much at first, since it’s not really Ward’s thing, but eventually trooping through the forest in silence gets to be too much for Fitz.
“So, you and Skye, huh?”
Ward blushes. “Yeah.”
“That must be nice.”
“It’s new.”
“How’d it–? Skye said some stuff, but, um, she mostly wanted to talk to Jemma, so-”
“She kissed me,” Ward shrugs. “I kissed her back. Pretty simple. Why?”
“No reason,” Fitz says, trying to hide his own blush, but Ward’s smiling now.
“Looking for some advice?”
“N-No, I just–”
“Just tell Jemma how you feel. That’s my advice.”
“How–?” Fitz starts, but Ward rolls his eyes.
“I’ve got eyes, Fitz,” he says, and takes off through the trees again before Fitz can reply. He decides it’s probably best just to keep his mouth shut after that.
They keep walking, but without meeting any monsters, and Fitz realizes after about twenty minutes that they haven’t actually strayed that far into the forest, although they have to be getting close to the border of camp. He calls Ward’s name a couple times, but the older boy doesn’t respond and he jogs to catch up.
“We haven’t ruined the morning for anything yet. Maybe we should cut into the forest more?”
“Not yet,” Ward says, and Fitz recognizes his tone from Capture the Flag games and sparring matches; it’s colder, sharper than his usual voice, a sure sign that he’s locked into the coming fight. His hand drops to the hilt of his sword in reaction, ready for whatever Ward seems to think is about to jump out at them, but he can see the clearing up ahead, the small break in the trees that signals the edge of camp.
“We’re almost at the border,” he says, and Ward finally stops walking, his shoulders falling as he sighs.
“I’m sorry, Fitz.”
“What for? We can just turn back towards camp.”
“No, we can’t,” Ward says, taking a couple steps so that he’s right at the border and then turning back towards Fitz, unable to actually look at him, jaw set. “I’m sorry.”
Maybe it takes longer than it should for it to click, for him to understand what’s happening, but it’s such a preposterous thing, such a ludicrous idea, that if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes he never would have believed it at all.
“No. No, you wouldn’t have– You wouldn’t have stayed, not this long, not if you were– No.”
“I was ordered to stay. They wanted someone to keep an eye on you. Someone who’d gotten close to you.”
“Ordered by who? Garrett? Hyperion?”
“Garrett’s my brother.”
“I’m your friend!” Fitz shouts, then deflates. “Or was that an order too?” Ward’s face is an expressionless mask, and he still won’t look at Fitz. “Oh, gods.”
“Garrett knew about the prophecy, and once he knew about your powers, he wanted someone to keep an eye on you,” he says, and Fitz thinks back to those first days after his pyrokinesis had been revealed to the rest of camp.
“You talked to Skye for the first time the day after the bonfire. And all those questions about my powers. Were you just using us? Was that all we were to you? A mission?”
“No,” says Ward, the mask dropping for a second as his hands tighten around his spear.
“Then why?”
“You’ve met my father. And what have the gods ever done for you, Fitz? Hestia says something nice to you every few weeks? How long did it take your dad to claim you, and that was only after he knew you would be of use to him? You really think that’s worth dying for?”
Fitz wants to say something about camp and their friends, to defend Hestia, to ask Ward exactly what Hyperion and Garrett are promising that is so enticing, but he’s struck dumb by the bitterness in his voice. He knew Ward didn’t like his father, but he hadn’t known that it extended to the other Olympians. His face must give away his surprise, because Ward huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.
“That’s your problem, Fitz. Once you trust somebody, you can’t imagine that they’d ever–” he shakes his head, and laughs again. “You know, they told me I should try to convince you to come with me. Said that it would take the gods and their allies out at the knees if you sided with us. Guess they really don’t know you as well as I do.”
He pulls the second strap of his backpack up to his shoulder and levels the point of his spear at Fitz, who takes one step back before he forces himself to stop. His hand drops to the hilt of his sword again.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and Ward’s voice is cold and sharp again when he answers.
“I’ve got orders to see that the prophecy ends today, and we both know you won’t come with me. There’s only one other way this ends.”
Fitz manages to fumble Pyrrhos out of his belt just in time to block Ward’s first attack, but it knocks him off balance so that he has to duck and roll to avoid the next jab. When he scrambles to his feet, he’s surprised to see that Ward is smirking at him.
“Come on, Fitz. Haven’t we sparred enough times that you know how this is going to end?” he says, and Fitz’s hands catch in anger before he’s even aware it’s happening. He pushes the flames up the blade of his sword and Ward’s smirk drops. Fitz never uses his flames when he’s sparring anyone but May, figuring that it’s an unfair advantage when they’re just practicing with their weapons, but current circumstances seem to call for it.
“Still feeling so confident?” he asks, although his voice shakes and the fire along Pyrrhos’ length flares, sparks flying. Ward winces, turning away with a sharp intake of breath. When he turns back, Fitz can see the shiny burn along his cheekbone. The flames at his arms climb towards his elbows, and he remembers one of the first conversations he’d ever had with Ward, when he’d asked if he could do a full body burn. He wonders if that will be necessary.
“What are you going to do, Fitz? You going to kill me?” Ward asks, with no fear in his voice, and Fitz can see the calculation in his eyes.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so,” he says, and then he lunges forward.
Months of training with May and the battlefield reactions that come from his immortal blood kick in before he can even think; he reaches out and grabs the spear with his left hand, twisting and then shoving it back. Ward, caught off guard, stumbles backwards, and Fitz watches in shock as the spear bends slightly, a smoking, dark handprint left along the metal shaft. He realizes for the first time just how hot the flames jumping off his body are, and Ward backs away towards the border, sweat pouring down his face.
They stand there in a silent stalemate for a few moments, the only sound the crackling of Fitz’s fire, and then Fitz becomes aware of several familiar voices yelling his name. Ward’s eyes widen, and he turns and takes off into the trees across the border. Fitz takes a step forward as though to follow him, but the other boy is out of sight in moments, and instead he lets his flames die and takes a breath for what feels like the first time in hours. His chest is tight as he turns away from the border towards the sound of running footsteps.
Jemma reaches him first, looking worried and almost sick, and throws her arms around his neck in a tight hug despite the fact that he’s sure his skin is still extremely hot. May, Trip, Coulson and Skye arrive behind her, with Chiron bringing up the rear. Trip looks pissed, but it’s nothing compared to the murderous look on May’s face. Fitz is sure Coulson would look the same, but he’s got one arm around Skye, her face pressed against his shoulder, and Fitz can see she’s been crying.
He wraps his arms around Jemma, his head dropping down against her neck.
“Ward’s gone. He left.”
Fitz wants to say it loud enough for everyone to hear, but knows he doesn’t manage much volume. Jemma nods where she’s pressed her face against his hair. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he just keeps hugging her.