Chapter Text
How many years had it been? It was a cruel joke of the Fates, bringing him back like this, no Penelope or Telemachus in sight. It had been 15 years of waiting, watching, running. Odysseus–Luke, was tired. He was angry. Hadn't he done enough that first time around? His exploits were famous, known all around the world. He made it back home, despite everything…everyone. So why was he back now? Alone, again.
It was lonely sometimes, having the memories of a life long gone. The children at Camp were so young, so naive. Their hands were clear of blood, no guilt on their consciences. All they cared about was having fun, games, friendships…and love. Luke sighed, his thoughts turning to Thalia–brave and smart, who so quickly decided she loved him despite him never being able to return the same affection. She was a child, and he had Penelope. He'd lived far too long to see both her and Annabeth as anything more than kids to take care of. Beth was like a younger sister, or even at times, daughter. Luke had all his siblings, he had his father (kind of– what happened to Hermes in the time he'd been gone?) but all he wanted was two precious people. The mere idea of any woman other than Penelope sickened him…he pushed down any stray thoughts of Circe- Calypso- Not to mention that as Luke, he'd never had the time or freedom to try anything, even if he had wanted to. Not that he did.
“Luke!” Annabeth ran up to him, grey eyes shining. He pretended he didn't notice how much it reminded him of his old friend and mentor. “Someone's arrived at Camp!”
He let out a chuckle–forced, sounding to his own ears, though doubtlessly indistinguishable to others–holding out a hand which the girl latched onto. “Is that so? Should we go take a look then?”
She grinned happily, dragging Luke between cabins to the Big House. Annabeth was buzzing with excitement as they stopped by the edge of the gathering crowd, a scowling girl standing in the centre next to a short stout satyr.
His first impression was that she was tall. Dirty blonde hair, strong, probably a few years older than Beth and younger than himself. As the girl glared around, their eyes briefly met. Dark eyes met blue, widened a fraction, before turning away. Luke's hand went slack in Annabeth's grip. It was as if something had shot through him, something inside him calling out before he even understood why. It didn’t matter that he didn’t look the same; neither did she. He recognised that look, that soul.
“Piss off, all of you!” The girl snarled. “The name's Clarisse. Don't just stare like that. Creeps.” The last word was muttered, low, tired, resigned. After a life waiting, delaying, the normalcy being the sole focus of so many gazes was less than welcome.
The satyr bleated next to her. “Get moving, cupcakes!”
As the rest of the crowd dispersed, Luke quietly tugged his hand out of Annabeth's and strolled forward casually, hands in his pocket. He nodded politely to the satyr, who scowled and retreated, then smiled at the new girl.
“Want a tour? Get out of the open, away from all the nosy harpies.”
Clarisse's glare softened slightly as she looked at him. “Depends who's offering.”
“Fifteen years and you've gone and forgotten me?” Luke grasped her hand and felt a wave of relief pass through him. She was real. “Here I thought I'd have at least twenty years before that occurred.”
She snorted, but didn't pull her hand away. “Who was the one who said he wasn't my husband?”
“Couldn't have been me.” Odysseus cracked a genuine smile, pulling her close. “You said it yourself, I’m all yours. I missed you, Penelope.”
She sighed softly, letting a hand caress his face for a second before letting it fall and stepping back. “I missed you too, my love.” A pause. “You know I'll always wait for you.”
His heart warmed, Luke couldn't help but glance around before lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her hand. “I never doubted you.”