𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 // 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

iv. Gone With No Goodbye

— HUGO WAS PACKING. Packing for a lengthy travel. Beneath the sound of violent snoring, the boy stuffed five t-shirts into a backpack.

He'd gained new bruises. He and his family had a debate; one as civil as Ares kids could be. He was angry, livid even.  He felt shunned, unwanted. It's not like he ever wanted to be at Camp Half-Blood in the first place.

Clarisse managed to hear his soft shuffling. She peeled an eye open, watching her closest brother preparing to run off into the night without a goodbye. Did she feel remorse? Yes. Was she too proud to admit it? Yes. Hugo sniffled, his nose and cheeks red. 'Is he.. crying?'

Hugo Cadieux wasn't the type to cry. Not noticeably, anyway. Clarisse had never seen him break, barely even a crack could be caught no matter how much you stared into his eyes. Seeing him so defeated was eye-opening. Of course, teary eyes and quivering lips is considered weakness in this family, boy or girl, it doesn't matter: you cry, you're weak.

He pulled a hood over his brushed hair, not even glancing over his shoulder as he ran from the security of Cabin Five.

Clarisse sat up. She wanted to run after him, to say she was sorry, but something stopped her. Was it pride? Honestly, she didn't know anymore. 'He'll come back', she reassured. 'He has to.'

• • •

— PERCY SEARCHED EVERYWHERE for him. From Thalia's tree to Zeus' fist and yet he still turned up empty.

The Ares cabin had been particularly quiet that day. All muttering and scheming under heavy breath since breakfast. Clarisse's usual scowl was nowhere to be seen, replaced with the slightest drop of worry. Percy could see her eyes analysing everything around her, like she was looking for a clue she would never find.

Percy debated asking, but quickly decided that would be a death wish. Then again, he was no son of Athena, but even he could put two and two together: Hugo was missing and the Ares cabin was vulnerable because of it.

Mr. D didn't look as bothered as Chiron, in fact, he didn't seem bothered at all. The centaur on the other hand was growing new greys by the second. He shifted on his hooves, fidgeted with his collar and swallowed frequently. No camper had ever seen him so shaken before.

The centaur handed both Annabeth and Percy a flask of nectar and an airtight bag full of ambrosia squares, "only to be used in emergencies," he said, as if he couldn't stress that enough. It was god food, Chiron reminded, lethal to mortals. An overdose of which would, quite literally, burn you up.

Percy heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see Luke jogging up Half-Blood Hill with a pair of basketball shoes in his hand. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you." Annabeth blushed, again.

"Just wanted to say good luck," he told Percy. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these." He handed the shoes to Percy, which seemed pretty normal at first glance. Until Luke said, "Maia!", did the sneakers alter.

Feathers sprouted from the heels of the shoes, morphing into softly beating wings in under five seconds. Percy dropped them, startled, and watched them helplessly flap in the grass before the feathers disappeared.

It was a cool gift, but unusable to Percy; to the son of Poseidon. Taking to the air at the time of tension it was... well, let's just say nobody should be dumb enough to make that mistake. He offered the shoes to Grover, who was ecstatic to have them, slipping them over his fake feet and prematurely yelling "Maia!" The shoes dragged the satyr down the hill, full horizontal, as he let out bleats of terror. It would have been funny if Percy wasn't so nervous. Hugo would've laughed, he was always braver than Percy was.

The boy turned to Chiron, his bottle-green eyes anxious. "What about Hugo?" The centaur tensed, his thick, horsetail flapping slightly. "What about him?" he inquired.

"Should I look for him? Make sure he's safe?" Chiron was quiet for a moment, his forehead creasing in thought. Or was it worry?

"Hugo is strong," he decided. "I doubt he will need your help."

Percy wasn't happy with that answer. He felt defeated and powerless. To hear Chiron, someone who always told him he was destined for greatness, say that a friend in need wouldn't require his help... it cut deep. Chiron seemed to catch wind of this, placing a comforting hand on Percy's shoulder.

"But," he began, gently. "If you happen to run into him, make sure he is safe. Tell him to come back."

"And if he doesn't want to?" Chiron gave Percy a look, a knowing look. He smiled, various wrinkles suddenly drawn into his old skin. "If it's you who leads, he'll follow."

Percy liked Chiron, really, he was the father figure Smelly Gabe never was. But, the cryptic messages and riddle talk was starting to get under his skin. I mean, come on, the guy was dyslexic. You can't throw an unnecessary cipher at him and expect him to solve it in a timely manner (with or without warning).

The son of Poseidon sighed, saying his farewells to Chiron before descending Half-Blood Hill. Argus, their temporary chauffeur, stood at the driver's side of a white SUV, jingling a set of keys in his hands. Percy clung to the straps of his backpack and stepped into the car.

Chiron watched the back plate of the van as it disappeared down the highway, a warm feeling of familiarity in his chest.

The smiles those two boys shared were almost exact to those of two others who lived before. One of pale complexion and silky, golden hair, and another of olive skin and chocolate eyes. Oh, the repetition of history can sometimes be so beautiful.