Archive of Our Own ^beta

When the sun brightens the night sky to a gray, Clarisse decides to get up. She’s been laying in bed long enough, her muscles wound tightly and her restless legs burn and ache with the need to be doing something. After so many months of preparing for war, the days after seem almost too easy. Rebuilding camp is fine, but there’s an edge to the air. The Romans are hard to trust and she can’t wait for them to leave for things to settle into a new normal.

She walks towards the training grounds with her spear in hand. Occasionally, when she’s up this early, she’ll catch a few nymphs running around. Once, she saw Chiron taking a morning stroll and joined him. Today, there’s no one awake and it almost feels like a ghost town. The only thing with eyes on her is the new statue of Athena looking over all of Camp and Clarisse breathes in relief. Sometimes she loves just being alone and so she takes her time to enjoy the walk.

Of course, the dream of her even getting some training time alone comes crashing down the moment she enters the training grounds and sees someone sitting down on the ground with their head resting on their knees. They’re near a practice dummy nearly torn to shreds. It’s almost unrecognizable if it wasn’t for one fake arm only a few inches away from the body. A sword glints beside figure as if it was thrown down before they even sat down.

The closer she gets, Clarisse recognizes the figure and she tries her hardest not to groan. It’s too late to turn around, she knows he’s heard her coming and plus, she’s not a coward. She came here to train and so she’s going to. She can’t help herself as she stops in front of him though, a taunt already rising to her lips.

“You’re up early.”

Jackson looks at her and Clarisse instantly has the urge to look absolutely anywhere else. The bags under the guy’s eyes are worse than Nico’s. Maybe it’s a Greek Big Three kid thing–dark bags under your eyes and a blonde hair partner following you around everywhere. That being said though, he really does look like shit. He looks like he’s wearing a shirt two sizes too big for him and his cheekbones are almost as sharp as dual blades. She hates that he’s making her worried about his sleeping and eating patterns in just a few seconds of looking at him. She’s seen him after so many battles and this may be the worst she’s ever seen him look. She keeps his gaze though and even her shoulders feel like drooping in the exhaustion he’s emanating.

“Yeah,” Jackson nods, looking at the destroyed practice dummy. “Woke up with some extra energy.”

Clarisse snorts. “Is that what you tell your girlfriend?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Okay, so Prissy is pissy. Clarisse rolls her eyes. She’s not going to baby him. If he wants to be in a bad mood, whatever. She’s not scared of pissing him off–what’s the worst he can do? Splash her with water? The destroyed practice dummy near them screams otherwise, but she doesn’t care. Unlike the stuffed hay doll, she can protect herself.

She rolls her eyes, “it means that Annabeth might choose to believe that lie, but I’m not gonna. You look like the before of a before and after comparison for Five Hour Energy.”

Jackson leans back on his hands. “I’m not lying.”

“Okay,” Clarisse crosses her arms, staring down at him. “So, you said you woke up with some extra energy?”

“Yup.”

“What day?”

Jackson scrunches his nose and she recognizes a flash of annoyance on his face. It’s familiar when dealing with him. Clarisse feels a smug smile brush across her lips. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Obviously it isn’t today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that.”

“I’m fine.” He hisses.

“I didn’t ask if you were.”

There’s a couple beats of silence.

“You gonna train?” Jackson asks, pointing to her spear.

“Was thinking about it,” Clarisse looks at her spear, letting him change the subject. It’s easier to train this early in the morning, especially with the Romans around. They’re judgy as fuck and she’s tired of hearing pointers about her stance or style–her dad is Ares, she knows how to fight. “There’s some annoying kid here though, so maybe not.”

Jackson flips her off.

Clarisse groans as she finally bites. “Are you in a fight with your girlfriend or something?”

“Why are you asking about my personal life?” Jackson doesn’t look impressed.

“You’re sulking.” She says bluntly.

His eyebrows shoot up. “I am not!”

She leans on her spear. She’s not impressed in the slightest. “Then what are you doing?”

“I’m… taking a break from training.” He doesn’t even sound convinced himself. Why would he even be training before dawn?

“Look, Prissy.” Clarisse can only take so much of the guy and now she’s reaching her limit. “I don’t really give a shit if you’re fighting or not–”

“We’re not!”

“Whatever.” Clarisse waves her hand around. “I just need to know if you’re in a shitty mood so I can warn the younger campers to avoid the grumpy old man from Cabin Three today.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Jackson huffs immediately, definitely proving her point.

Clarisse points to the destroyed practice dummy with her spear. “Right, you’re an absolute peach this morning.”

His train of thought is already derailed and he’s following the conversation out of order. “Do you have to warn the younger campers a lot?”

She sighs, hearing the hurt in his voice. Sadly, she has to relate to Prissy. She knows what it’s like to have the younger kids avoid her. People walk on eggshells around her most of the time and that’s fine, they do so out of reverence. What bothers her is when it’s out of fear. She’s not blind; she knows she’s intimidating. She’s a lifer, she’s bigger, and her father is Ares. As much as she loves striking fear into her enemies, she doesn’t want the kids to think she’s too scary to interact with. Believe it or not, she has a soft spot for the younger kids.

It’s another thing that she and Jackson have in common, much to her annoyance. Although, before the switching of all-star players between the Greeks and the Romans and Mother Earth waking up, Jackson was a lot more easy going. Despite him being–she’ll never admit it outloud–one of the most powerful demigods, he gave off an air about him like a dog that wanted to run and play fetch all day. Now, after everything, he looks and acts like a stray dog that’s been on the streets too long. He’s half feral and ready to attack at any given moment.

“I think I’ve only warned campers to stay away twice since…” Last week.

Jackson’s face twitches. He picks up his sword that’s laying next to him and he caps it, causing the magic to take effect and the weapon shrinks back to a pen. “Right.”

Clarisse clenches her jaw at his flat tone. “It’s not anything against you. Bad days happen an–”

“I get it.”

“You’re still adjusting t–”

“I don’t want to hurt them either.” Jackson pulls his knees to his chest.

She presses her lips together. She’s not good at this. She doesn’t know if he needs comforting or just a swift kick in the ass. Silena would know what to do. What would Silena do? Sit down beside him? Say something wise but in such a soft and caring tone? Clarisse can try that.

“I never said you would.” Shit. Okay, even she sounded pissed in her ears. Silena would not be impressed. “I don’t think they would even be scared of you. You’re the famous Percy Jackson. Hero of Olympus. Twice.”

He gives a small hum, his eyes gaining a glazed over and blank expression. He doesn’t sound impressed with the title. Gods, she would love a title like that and here he is not even caring about it. She doesn’t understand him–he’s done so many amazing things and yet he acts like he doesn’t want credit for any of it.

“What’s it like?”

Clarisse has ADHD too, but fuck. It’s hard following the son of Poseidon’s train of thought. “What’s what like? Telling them to not be around you?”

“No,” Jackson shifts, shoving his pen back in his pocket. “What’s it feel like?”

“Fuck, I wonder what it’s like in your head that makes you think it’s okay to ask a question with absolutely no context.” Clarisse throws her free hand in the air. “I’m not in your head, I’m not following whatever you’re thinking.”

Jackson flushes and looks annoyed again. Good. She was getting a little worried with the blank expression in his eyes. “I mean–”

“What’s it feel like to be the coolest person in Camp?”

“No–”

“Well, that’s a great question, Prissy. It’s honestly really draining–”

“That’s not–”

“What’s it like being the toughest in Camp?” Clarisse flexes her arms.

The annoyed spark flashes to something a bit more. Not exactly anger yet, but it’s getting close. Clarisse is an expert at pushing people’s buttons and everything about Jackson is practically screaming to be pushed. Preferably down a hill.

“You done?”

Clarisse contemplates this. “I could keep going.”

Jackson’s jaw twitches. “I’m actually trying to ask you a question and you’re being a dick.”

“Okay, okay.” Clarisse sighs but cradles her spear in the crook of her elbow and holds up her hands. “Go on.”

He huffs, flicking some hair out of his face. There’s a pause and she wonders if he actually forgot his question, that wouldn’t surprise her. “What does it feel like… with different weapons? No, that’s not–” Jackson groans, tucking his head in between his knees.

“Does it feel different when I wield my spear versus a dagger?” Clarisse tries understanding–this subject she can understand. She’s lost when it comes to the world of emotions. “Of course it does. They’re two different weapons, idiot.”

“Yeah, but isn’t that one of your abilities?” Jackson tries explaining himself. “You can pick up any weapon and know how to use it?”

Clarisse nods despite him not looking. “Yeah, and I can make almost anything around me a weapon if I really want to. I just know what to do with it.”

“Does it feel different for other…” Jackson lifts up his head, his face heavily guarded. “Does your ability feel the same with all weapons or does it change depending on the weapon?”

Clarisse is quiet for a moment, processing that question.

“Nevermind–”

“Hold up, I’m thinking about it.” Clarisse shakes her head. “I’m not ignoring you. I’ve never really thought about it before.” She takes a few more moments to gather her thoughts. “No? Maybe when I was younger and figuring it out?” Clarisse finally settles on an answer. “It’s just… my power? It’s just an instinct in my gut.”

Jackson seems to deflate at that, like her answer isn’t what he wants to hear.

She shifts, actually feeling awkward now. This is her area of expertise–why does she feel like she’s not helping? “If I’m holding a dagger, I know that I’m supposed to move faster. I need to know my enemy and how they move. If my instincts tell me to duck and sidestep, I’m doing it before I’m thinking about it. If I have my spear, I have to decide how to use it; if I want more offense or defense, I just know what to do.”

“Have you ever ran into a weapon that you don’t think you can use and you surprise yourself?” Jackson’s voice is small and it doesn’t fit the annoying little shit.

“Maybe if I’ve never used it before?” Clarisse scratches her cheek.”I catch on to it pretty quick though.”

Jackson stares at his shoes.

“I’m sure it’s like you and water.” Clarisse tries actually helping.

Of course, it doesn’t go her way and he actually flinches. “Yeah.”

“Okay, what’s going on with you? Are you looking for a pep talk or do you just want to be all wallowy and shit. I’m trying to help you for once and you’re making it hard to ever be nice to you again.” Clarisse crosses her arms again, the sun is getting higher and she’s officially given up on training now. It’s too late and she may or may not be stupidly curious about what’s going on with this guy.

Jackson is silent and refuses to look at her.

“Have it your way then, prick.” Clarisse twirls her spear and turns around, taking a few steps away.

“I controlled a liquid that isn’t water.”

She stops, turning back around to look at him still staring at his feet. “O-kay?” She waits. And waits some more. “Are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess? I’m telling you now, I’m not going to guess PG rated liquids.”

He takes a shaky breath, “poison. I controlled poison.”

“That sounds cool.” She doesn’t get why it’s such a big deal? She’s not surprised that he has control over other liquids, she’s seen this guy do too many impossible things.

Jackson’s head turns slowly towards her and Clarisse actually is a little impressed with how dark and intense his expression is. “That doesn’t freak you out?”

“Didn’t you, like, blow up a volcano or some shit?” She finally gives in and sits down on the ground and she places the spear beside her. “You think poison is more important than that?”

“I almost killed with it.” He looks miserable.

Clarisse laughs. “Prissy, you could fucking kill someone with a plastic spoon.” That’s a high compliment in her books, he should feel honored.

“It was a god’s poison.”

That stops Clarisse’s laughter instantly. “No shit?”

He's perfectly still which actually is pretty odd. She's pretty sure he's always moving one way or another. It's one of the many things that he does that pisses her off.

Poisoning a god.

Well, fuck.

That’s way more intense than blowing up a volcano. She knew Jackson was powerful but this is far beyond what she ever imagined.

“It was in Tartarus.” Jackson explains in a monotone voice. “She was going to kill us.”

Clarisse stares at him, “then, good for you. You saved yourself and Annabeth.”

“Yeah, but–”

“You would be dead otherwise, Percy. You did good.”

His face contorts at that, his nose scrunching and his eyebrows coming down lower. He actually seems to be mulling that over, like he didn’t think about the fact that they would be dead otherwise.

“Some things shouldn’t be controlled though.”

“No, they shouldn’t.” Clarisse shakes her head, not looking away from him. “But–”

“But?” Jackson looks actually hopeful.

“But, if I had the chance to control shit like poison, I’d feel safer because now I know it can’t hurt me. Or my friends. Or loved ones.” She shrugs. “And I mean, you’re not making poison. You just have an ability over it now. Think about it, if someone at Camp gets poisoned, you can draw it out and save a life.”

Jackson blinks. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Of course you didn’t. You probably panicked and swore you’d never do it again.”

“I mean–”

“Stop leveling the playing field because everyone else isn’t on your level.” Clarisse surprises herself with how stern she sounds. “You did something to save your life and now you have a bad ass surprise skill. You don’t gotta use it all the time, but now it’s in your pocket just in case.” He looks like he wants to say something so she blazes forward. “It doesn’t make you a bad guy because you controlled a god’s poison. You saw a weapon and your instincts took over. You can’t beat yourself up for doing it. You did what you were supposed to.”

Jackson shifts again and he drags his foot in the dirt. And then again. And again. “I saw a weapon and used it to my advantage.” He says slowly.

“Exactly.” She nods. “Everyone’s got the ability to rob a bank, that doesn’t all make us robbers, right?”

He shakes his head, “no.”

“Then quit stressing about it.” She nods to the practice dummy. “I don’t think we'll be able to supply enough of these guys if you keep thinking about it.”

Jackson lets out a short snort and it’s close enough to a laugh. “I got a little… carried away.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Clarisse has destroyed too many dummies to count.

“Yeah,” Jackson sighs.

She can’t tell if he feels better or not. The droop in his shoulders isn’t as prominent, so she’s going to take that as a win. She did it. She’s sure Silena would be proud. Comforting is not Clarisse’s forte, but still feels like she did an alright job. It doesn’t seem like she needs to go warn everyone to stay away from the son of Poseidon today.

He straightens his back, rolling his shoulders and there’s a few pops as he does so. “I should probably go. Let you train and all.”

Clarisse looks at her spear, “y’know, the dummies aren’t too great at fighting back.”

Jackson shakes his head, “no, they’re not.”

“I’m trying to ask you to spar with me, idiot.” She rolls his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” She mimics, standing up. “Try sounding more surprised next time.”

“I didn’t mean to sound like that.” He defends, looking up at her.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I got a lot of pent up energy. Sounds like you do too. Could be beneficial for the both of us.”

Jackson gives her a slight smirk. “Got tired of talking about emotions, didn’t you?”

“Fucking stresses me out. I gotta hit things to feel normal again.” Clarisse offers her hand.

He takes it, allowing himself to be hauled up off the ground. He takes his pen out of his pocket once he’s standing, he takes the cap off and his sword is in his hands. He does look better now that he’s no longer wallowing in the dirt. There’s obviously other things bothering him, but Clarisse doesn’t have the mental energy to call him out on it. He’ll talk when he’s ready–even if that means he’ll show up tomorrow morning for another sparring practice.

“Well,” Jackson avoids looking at her and she’s thankful for it. He sounds like he’s going to say something meaningful and she will stab him in retaliation if it’s too sappy. “I dunno if it means anything, but you did help.”

“Of course I did.” Clarisse twirls her spear, taking a few steps away and getting in a fighting stance. “I’m the most helpful person in Camp.”