tratie one shots, vol. i

[ loved her / tw ]

tw: BIG angst warning. violence/gore. blood mention. character death. 

i didn't know whether or not to put a tw in the title, but i did just in case. 

big apologies in advance, because this one's a tearjerker. 

words: 1827

. . .

Travis was going to die.

He knew it from the moment he stepped onto the battlefield. Rows of demigods fell to the ground; they collapsed by the dozens. The Apollo kids had their hands so full that they were undoubtedly missing some of the fallen, but there was absolutely no way to save them all.

Travis was one of the unlucky ones to have been overlooked for the time being. 

He lay propped up behind a dumpster in an alleyway, watching as treacherous demigods and monsters stormed the brigades from camp. He was helpless, sitting with his back against the brick wall and head growing dizzier by the second. He was hopeless, with a gaping wound he hadn't the stomach to look at yet, but he did feel the blood pooling around him.

He was going to die.

The pain had ebbed slightly due to it being so intense and so sudden that it went numb. He couldn't feel anything past his chest, especially not where he'd been stabbed in his left side. Vaguely aware of how urgent it was to get up and move before someone bad found him, Travis had attempted to stand many times, each one a failure. 

Blood trickled down his temple from the cut on his forehead, and though it wasn't fatal, it was an annoyance nonetheless. An annoyance, an inconvenience, another roadway for his blood to leave his body. It entered his eyes when he tilted his head, burning and itching. He couldn't do this. 

He could basically see the gates of the Underworld ahead of him. 

Travis knew he would die. There was no way of going around it - he'd spent enough painful minutes in the alleyway to figure it out and accept it. Even if the Apollo kids found him, they'd only be carrying him away in search of a shroud. No amount drinking of ambrosia, no stitching up, no number of seconds passing in hiding would stop it. He knew it.

He would die today. 

For the most part, Travis was at peace as he watched his fellow fighters win their own personal battles before moving on with the next, and he pondered how well Connor would cope. He knew his brother was very capable of leading the Hermes cabin by himself, but how would his emotional side handle things? And even if Connor took it well...

Katie. 

Though he hadn't seen his supposed enemy the entire time he'd been fighting, his mind wouldn't get off of her. With every slash of his sword, he wondered if she was okay. With every dodge of an attack, he hoped she was safe. With every step he took, he prayed to the gods that she'd survive this. 

Why? Because he loved her.

He'd never made that clear. Every day that passed had him bottling down his emotions a little further, never admitting them to anyone but himself. He was so deeply in love with the daughter of Demeter that he could hardly contain it when he saw her. 

Even now, as he bled out and slowed his breaths, his thoughts dwelt only on her. He'd never told her. In that moment, there was nothing he was more sure of, nothing he was more desperate to do. He wouldn't have been at peace until she knew. 

He knew Katie was at the Empire State Building, helping with the sickbeds. She had volunteered right in front of him, and he had to hope she was still there.