part 14
Fitz is sitting on one of the beds in the infirmary, where Chiron had sent him after he’d explained what had happened with Ward. Mostly what he wants to do is go back to the Hephaestus cabin and sleep, but he hadn’t had the energy to protest, so now he’s just waiting. There are voices arguing on the other side of the door, but Fitz isn’t listening closely enough to make out exactly what they’re saying. He looks up when somebody comes into the room.
“Thought you might want breakfast,” Trip says, handing over the plate he’d brought and dropping down next to Fitz on the bed. He steals a piece of toast with a sigh. “I know this is probably the understatement of the century, but I still feel like somebody needs to say it: this sucks.”
Fitz nods, poking at his food, “How’d you guys even know we were out there?”
“He left a letter for Skye, explaining or apologizing or whatever. I only know what she told me, but apparently he said sorry for ‘what happened with Fitz,’ and then when she went to check on Jemma and you weren’t there, she knew she had to find you fast. Couple wood nymphs saw you guys head into the forest, plus we knew he’d be headed for the border. And once we got close enough, we could see your whole Human Torch thing happening.”
“Thanks. For coming after me.”
“No problem, man. You need anything else?”
“I really just want to go back to my cabin and sleep.”
“Yeah, Jemma and May have been arguing that with Chiron for ten minutes now. He wants to keep an eye on you, but I think they’ll win sooner rather than later. If you’re good, I’m going to go check on Skye,” Trip says, and Fitz nods. May passes him in the doorway.
“Chiron says you can go back to your cabin, as long as you promise not to do anything foolish. His words, not mine,” she says, and Fitz stands with a sigh.
“I just want to go to sleep.”
“That’s what I told him. I brought you another shirt too.”
“Why?”
“That one is all full of holes now,” she says, and Fitz looks down at himself in surprise. There are indeed several holes in the shirt, fragile burnt edges ringing them. It’s been a long time since he lost enough control that he burned the clothes he was wearing.
Jemma is waiting for him out on the porch, and they walk down to the cabins in silence, although Fitz can feel her watching him, waiting for him to say something. He has no idea what she wants him to say, and there’s nothing that will make either of them feel any better, so he keeps his mouth shut. When they reach the Hephaestus cabin, Bailey is waiting on her bed, and she gets up and hugs him before anyone says anything, confirming that the rest of the camp already knows what happened. She leaves a couple minutes after that, and Fitz appreciates the empty cabin as he curls up on his bed. It’s the first time since he moved to the front of the cabin that he misses his old bed further back in the room.
“I’m going to go check on my siblings and on Skye, unless you need something,” Jemma says, and Fitz shakes his head, turning over to face the wall.
“I’m just going to sleep.”
Jemma waits a few minutes, but eventually, Fitz hears her leave, closing the door softly behind her. He expects to have trouble falling asleep, even with his insistence to everyone, but he really is tired, drifting off after just a few minutes. When he wakes up, Jemma is sitting on his bed, her legs bent up over his knees while she reads. He sits up so that his shoulder presses against hers.
“How are you?” she asks, and he shrugs.
“How’s Skye?”
“Angry. Sad. Upset with herself for being sad. Wondering if anything was real, back to the first day we all showed up at camp.”
“Does it make it better or worse if it wasn’t all a lie?”
Were you just using us? Was that all we were to you? A mission?
No.
“I don’t know. I think we’re all going to have to figure that out for ourselves.”
“How about you?”
“Glad you’re alright. Glad he didn’t try to hurt anyone else. Angry that he tried to hurt you. Beyond that, I don’t know.” Jemma sighs and they sit in silence for a while before she speaks again, “War- The kids in Ares are pretty shaken up. To have this happen to them again.”
“Yeah,” Fitz says, tilting his head to rest against Jemma’s where she’s leaning against his shoulder, “What time is it?”
“Just past five. We should probably go to dinner. You didn’t eat much of what Trip brought you this morning and you slept through lunch, so I know you’re hungry. Plus… I think it would be good for the other campers. To see you.”
His first thought is, selfishly, I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this. But he doesn’t say it out loud, can’t say it to Jemma, whose first thought upon hearing the prophecy was that this was their chance to be heroes, like in the stories she loved so much. He just follows her silently to the dining pavilion.
People do seem to be relieved to see him, which is nice, something in the air settling as he scrapes mashed potatoes into the fire for the gods. The Ares table is deserted, and Skye never shows up; their table feels empty with just Fitz, Jemma and Trip, and he’s glad when Mike sits down with them.
“Chiron says you guys have got siblings who want to come back to camp?” he asks, and Trip and Fitz both nod.
“Chip Iris messaged last night. He’s supposed to let us know when he gets to New York. Some time this week probably.”
“The twins live in NYC, so they can probably wait until Chip gets there,” Trip says, “They were going to have their mom bring them back, but I didn’t want them to risk it. Especially since- I know monsters usually leave mortals alone, but not all our enemies out there are monsters anymore. Figured that it was safer to have them wait.”
“Good plan. Let me know when they’re ready, and Ace and I’ll go get them.”
Mike finishes his food quickly and departs with a wave, and Trip sets his fork down.
“Nothing is actually going to make me feel better, but I feel like setting stuff on fire down on the beach will provide the illusion for a while. You guys in?” he asks, and Jemma glances at Fitz, who shrugs.
Most of the things he wants to do involve hitting something with Pyrrhos or curling up on his bed, neither of which are going to make Jemma stop worrying about him. So he finishes his food and follows the other two down to the beach, staring out over the water as Trip lights the bonfire with a Zippo he’d grabbed from the Big House. Some other kids drift down from the dining pavilion and the cabins, and there are marshmallows, but none of the shouting or celebrating from last night; the other campers give Trip, Jemma and Fitz plenty of room, and Fitz still hasn’t seen any of the Ares kids or Skye since this morning.
Jemma, sitting next to him, drops a small box with a bow on it into his lap, and Fitz turns to her with eyebrows raised.
“I know you don’t really feel like celebrating, and I’m sorry this happened on your birthday, but I did promise that I’d get you a present this year,” she explains, as Fitz opens the box, “I got it when May and I went into New York the last time. Made her take me to the zoo so I could buy it.”
Fitz smiles for the first time all day when he sees the small monkey charm, obviously meant for his necklace.
“Now we match again, at least mostly,” she says, touching the owl pendant Fitz had made for her last year on her own necklace as he hangs his present on the leather string around his neck.
“Thanks, Jem,” he says, and then looks up to see Skye making her way toward them through the groups of campers on the other side of the fire. She sits next to him without saying anything, a folded piece of paper in her hand. It’s the four of them in a line now: Trip, Jemma, Fitz and Skye.
“So I really wanted to burn this,” she says after a few minutes of silence, holding up the letter so that Fitz can see Skye written on the front in handwriting he realizes must be Ward’s, “But I didn’t want to alarm any of my siblings by suddenly setting something on fire. And then I remembered that one of my best friends can light things on fire at will, and thought you might want to help.”
Fitz reaches up to take the letter, but Skye doesn’t loosen her hold.
“Could you- I was hoping you could burn it while I was holding it? That you could keep me from burning?”
He wants to refuse, since he’d come pretty close to losing control of his powers this morning and he still feels shaky, but the look on Skye’s face makes him pretty sure he’d do anything to make her feel better, so Fitz lets his hand catch and watches as the letter crumbles away. The flames lick at Skye’s fingers, but she doesn’t pull away and he concentrates on making sure she’s fine.
When the letter is gone, she nods, staring at the bonfire in front of them.
“Well, at least that’s done.”
———–
“They should have been back by now,” Trip says, anxiously scrubbing at his face with his hands, and Fitz glances at his watch.
“They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
“You two worry too much,” Jemma says, pausing to cheer when Skye’s team scores a point in the sand volleyball game they’re watching, “Mike and Ace know what they’re doing.”
“Ace is like twelve years old,” Fitz says, and Trip nods.
“Ace is twice as old as either of you,” Jemma says, rolling her eyes, but she reaches out to turn Fitz’s wrist enough to see his watch. A few days ago, her younger sister Donna had called about coming back to camp, and Mike and Ace were picking her up along with Chip and the Martinez twins.
The three of them are sitting at one of the picnic tables by the volleyball courts. About fifteen minutes after the satyrs had left, Skye had come and dragged them out of the Big House, insisting that sitting around waiting for hours was only going to drive them all nuts, including her. Not wanting to argue with her, they’d gone down and played sand volleyball for a while. Once Mike’s estimated return time had passed, they’d all become pretty useless to their teams and Skye had let them come sit down to wait for news.
“Maybe we should go looking for them. Argus is here, the camp has more than one van, right? Let’s get him to take us,” Trip says.
“Where? You want to search the entirety of New York City for them?” Jemma asks, and he shrugs.
“We can’t just sit here doing nothing.”
It takes them five minutes to track Argus down and a further ten minutes to convince Chiron to let them go.
“It might be a trap, to lure you out of camp,” the centaur says, his gaze settling on Fitz, but it’s Jemma who speaks up.
“Then Garrett is using our siblings as bait, and we need to go get them,” she says, and Chiron sighs.
“Be careful. Keep your heads up.”
Trip takes shotgun in the van, with Jemma and Fitz on the first bench seat, peering out opposite windows. Inside the camp’s magical borders it had been clear skies all day, but outside it’s raining, making it harder to see. They’ve been driving for fifteen minutes when Trip curses in Ancient Greek and then again in English, pointing out his window.
“That’s Miggy! Pull over, that’s Miggy!” he says, and Fitz sees Miguel Martinez along the side of the road, waving his arms over his head. Trip is out of the van as soon as it stops, running towards his younger brother.
“Miggy, where’s everybody else?” he asks, as Fitz, Jemma and Argus all rush to get out of the van, “What happened?”
“Hellhound knocked the van off the road. There were- some of the kids who have left camp were with it, like they’d summoned it. Sofia sprained her ankle, so she stayed behind to look after the others and sent me ahead for help. They’re a couple miles back.”
They pile back into the van and Argus takes off, Trip urging him to go faster as Jemma crawls into the back to retrieve the first aid kit. Miggy has long, thin scratches down his arms, and he winces as she cleans them off. Trip starts cursing again as the van slows down, not bothering to wait for a complete stop this time before jumping out of the van. Fitz spots what he had seen after a few seconds, and he and Jemma scramble out into the rain as well, Miggy following at a slower pace.
The camp’s other van is in the ditch alongside the road, pushed up against a stand of trees, the side towards the road significantly dented in like a car or something about that size had smashed into it with force. Trip rounds the vehicle carefully, hands raised.
“Sof, it’s Trip. I’ve got your brother and Fitzsimmons with me, so don’t shoot,” he says, and Fitz follows him just in time to see Sofia drop her bow with an obvious sigh of relief.
She’s obviously favoring her left leg as she limps forward to hug her twin and her older brother, but Fitz’s attention is immediately drawn to the group sheltering underneath the trees. Donna Ramsey, Jemma’s younger sister, is sitting with Ace’s head in her lap and Chip leaning against her side. Ace is unconscious and Donna has a clearly visible knot at one temple, but it’s Chip that causes him to come up short; the younger boy’s face is covered in blood and he sways slightly as he tries to sit up straighter.
“Fitzsimmons, you guys work on getting your siblings checked out and back to the car. Miggy, get your sister in the van and then come back and help me. I’m going to try to get Mike in good enough shape that we can move him,” Trip orders, and it pulls Fitz out of his shock enough that he notices Mike for the first time. The satyr still has his pan pipes in his right hand, but his left arm is a completely bloody mess, and he’s clearly fighting just to stay awake.
“Ace,” he gasps, shifting to try to see his little brother, “Is Ace okay? Everybody else?”
“Ace is unconscious, but I think he’s alright,” Jemma says, crouching down by Mike, “You’ve got to let Trip help you though.”
He looks like he wants to say something else, or make another attempt at moving towards Ace, but after a few seconds he sighs, relaxing back.
“Okay. Look after him, yeah?” he says, gasping as Trip starts to examine his arm.
Miggy comes back from helping Sofia to the van and assists Jemma in getting Donna on her feet before he picks up Ace while Fitz scoops up Chip. Up close, he can see that most of the blood is coming from a single long cut across his forehead, but it’s still terrifying to see his little brother like this. The kid is only eleven, and he curls in against Fitz’s chest as he steps out of the shelter of the trees into the rain. Once they’re all settled in the van, Fitz and Jemma go back to help Trip and Mike.
“This is- This doesn’t look very good, Mike,” Trip says, and Mike laughs, though it’s obviously strained.
“You’re saying that sticking my arm in the hellhound’s mouth was a bad idea?” he asks, pushing himself upright with his good arm, and continues at the shocked looks on their faces, “I had to buy the others enough time to get out of the van, give them a fighting chance at least.”
“You did good, Mikey, but you also lost a lot of blood and the bone seems like it’s in pretty bad shape. We’re going to get you back to camp, though, and have Chiron look at it. You’re going to be alright,” Trip says, and Mike nods, although for the first time since Fitz had met him a year and a half ago, he looks young and scared. It takes all three of them to pull him to his feet, and he sways as they help him to the van.
The ride back is silent except for the sound of the rain. Trip had put Mike in the passenger’s seat and is sitting on the back bench with the twins, with Jemma and Fitz sitting on the middle one with their siblings and Ace lying down on the front one, belted in twice for good measure, since he’s still unconscious. Jemma is working to keep both Donna and Chip awake because she’s worried about them having concussions.
Fitz relaxes as they cross the camp border, but they’re sitting close enough together on the crowded bench that he can feel the tension still present in Jemma’s shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning to whisper to her, not wanting to alarm their younger siblings.
“The rain didn’t stop,” she answers.
Argus drives the van all the way up to the front porch of the Big House, and Miggy helps Sofia, limping slightly, into the house to alert Chiron and anyone else there. Trip tries to help Mike out, but even barely conscious, he insists on Ace going first, and Trip grabs him with a huff. Jemma helps Donna out as Chiron rushes out of the house, May and Chiron behind him.
Fitz pulls Chip out of the van and moves as quickly as he can to get out of the rain and under the protection of the porch. Once there, he can hear that his brother is whispering his name and bends his head down close to be able to hear him.
“I’m here, Chip. We’re at camp, you’re going to be fine. It’s going to be okay,” he says, trying to remember everything he ever learned from Anne about being a good cabin leader, a good big brother.
“It was- It was kids from camp. Kids who left. Raina was there. And- And, Fitz, Ward was there. Ward was with them,” he says, his head resting against Fitz’s chest, and Fitz feels his stomach twist.
He puts Chip down on one of the beds in the infirmary and then stumbles out into the hallway, trying to catch his breath. His stomach is in knots and he’s actively trying not to be sick as several of the older Apollo kids rush past him into the infirmary.
Ward. Ward, who had still been in camp when Chip had called, who would have known that at least one kid would be on their way back to camp very soon, probably with a satyr or an older camper. He would have known because Fitz had told him. And Fitz hadn’t stopped him from leaving.
Trip bursts out of the infirmary, Mike’s blood on his shirt and Skye trailing after him. Fitz assumes he’s going in search of more supplies or back out to the van for something, until the older boy suddenly punches at the wall with a shout.
“Trip,” Skye says, reaching out for his shoulders, but he shrugs her off.
“They’re just kids! Migs and Sof are thirteen, and they were the oldest ones there!” he says, and then storms out of the house.
Fitz thinks that maybe Skye follows him, but he’s not really paying attention, Trip’s words echoing in his head. The twins are thirteen, and Donna and Chip are only eleven, and they’re just kids. There is no real reason for Garrett to want to attack them. They’re just kids. Ward wouldn’t have known about the Martinezes or Donna, only that Chip was coming back. Chip, Fitz’s little brother. They’re just kids.
“Oh gods,” he says, leaning back against the wall. He’s definitely going to be sick.
“Fitz? Fitz, what’s wrong?” Jemma is in front of him suddenly, and she reaches up to brush something off his cheek, “You’re crying.”
He hadn’t realized that.
“It’s my fault. They were coming after me. It’s my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ward knew about Chip. I didn’t stop him, and he knew about Chip but not the others, and they were coming after me. It’s my fault.”
“Fitz, no, of course it’s not. Please, just take a deep breath, please.”
“No, no, I can’t. I need- I need- I can’t,” he says, pushing away from the wall. Fitz thinks Jemma might say something, trying to get him to stop, but he’s out the door and off the porch into the rain in a few seconds.
He walks without any destination in mind, just needs to move, and it’s a few minutes before he realizes that he can see the rain but can’t feel it. His whole body is in flames, and for the first time that he can remember, he’s aware of just how hot he’s burning. Fitz drops to his knees, gasping for breath.
Someone lays a hand on his back, and he feels his shoulders relax even before he realizes that there’s only one person in camp who could possibly be touching him right now. Hestia smiles softly when he looks back at her.
“It’s going to be okay, Leopold. Breathe. Listen to her voice.”
“Whose voice?” he gasps, and Hestia’s smile grows slightly.
“Who else?” she says, and Fitz looks up to see Jemma standing ten feet in front of him, which is probably as close as she can bear to be right now. Even through the rain, he can see she’s crying and it’s that more than anything that makes him concentrate on taking deep breaths, forcing his temperature down.
Eventually, Fitz can feel the rain against his shoulders and Jemma drops to her knees in front of him, throwing her arms around him and pressing her face in against his neck. He returns the hug immediately, feeling her shiver slightly.
“Don’t you dare scare me like that again, Leopold Fitz.”
“Sorry,” he says, tucking his head down against her shoulder and taking deep breaths.
They stay that way for a while, until Jemma starts to shiver in earnest and Fitz pulls her up to her feet. She keeps a hold of his hand as they walk towards the Big House, which makes his stomach flip in funny ways; he can’t decide if that’s worse or better than the hollow feeling that’s been there for the past week, since the morning of his birthday.
Fitz stays in the hallway while Jemma ducks into the infirmary, and Bailey braves the storm to bring him some dry clothes from the cabin, and to see Chip and the Martinez twins, who she’s close to. He ducks into one of the empty rooms next to the infirmary and changes, and when he reemerges, Jemma is sitting in the hallway, back to the wall and knees pulled up to her chest. He slides down next to her, and she drops her head to his shoulder as soon as he’s settled.
“Chip’s going to be fine. He’s got a concussion, and the cut on his forehead is probably going to scar, but nothing major beyond that. Donna and Ace both have concussions too, although Ace’s is worse. They were sitting on the side of the van the hellhound hit. Sofia sprained her ankle getting out of the van to help Mike with the hellhound.”
“How is he?”
“They’ve got him stabilized, but they’re worried he’s going to lose his arm. There’s a doctor coming, from the organization that Anne works for now. Apparently he specializes in making prosthetic limbs out of celestial bronze.”
“Chiron thinks the rain will pass in about an hour. There’s nothing magical about the storm, it’s just a powerful one. The borders can’t keep everything out.”
“This is just the start.”
“The storm?”
“The attack on the van. They thought I would be there, that I would have gone to pick up Chip. This was the start of Hyperion’s plan.”
Jemma reaches up, pulling his necklace, with the two beads, the new charm she’d gotten him for his birthday and the hellhound tooth that he’d gotten the first time they’d met, out of his collar. Fitz wonders if she can feel the way his pulse speeds up when her fingertips brush along his skin. For the past year or so, she’s been wearing her matching necklace so that it’s easily visible, but he’s never gotten out of the habit of tucking it out of sight.
“Then I suppose we’ll just have to be ready.”