His hands are rough, calloused, and bruised as he hammers away at the punching bag. Each strike he executes is perfectly honed, armed with force, and one last hit sends the bag swiveling on its hook. He watches, entranced in his oblivion, as it stops in its revolution.

He's breathing heavily now, reaching up a lazy hand to slow the bag down. He hardly cares about getting stronger, but the training keeps his mind off of her. Off of her laugh, her smile, the taste of her lips pressed against his...

With a stifled groan, he backs off, stalking over to the sidelines. He unravels the cloth around his hands, tossing it aside as he sits down, his mind entirely elsewhere than the abandoned gymnasium before him.

It'd been a few months since they'd gone their separate ways, needing the space to help them both heal. The war had taken and taken and taken, and they had not emerged unscathed. The split was necessary, but he wished that it hadn't been. She helped him heal and vice verse, and being without her was like being without air.

He digs out his phone, scrolling through his notifications until he wanders over to her contact page. An image of her beautiful, smiling face in the firelight stares back at him, so vivid, so real, that it hurts his heart. What he would give to see her face in person again, to hold her in his arms, to kiss every scar and bruise and inch of her body to remind her that no matter what she was going through, he wouldn't leave her again.

But he had. And she had. And here they were, miles and miles apart with only a tethered string connecting their hearts while their minds were unfocused, blurred.

His finger hovers over the phone icon, so close to tapping it if not to have a conversation, than to just hear her voice as she disregards the call. Even that would satisfy his withdrawal for her if only for a moment. She was an addiction, and while being away should have helped him heal, it only made him worse.

But then he remembers his promise, the promise that they all made to respect her wishes and her space. It made him want to scream and shout and beg for her not to leave him, not to leave them, but they'd all promised to leave her to her lonesome, until she was ready to come back. If she was ever ready to come back.

He swipes out of her page, shutting his phone off. He can't bear the thought, the possibility, of how a million things could have been different between them if they'd both tried harder. She would be there with him, laughing and talking and making smart remarks that always made him question his own sense of pride. She'd train with him, she'd walk with him, she'd live her life in tandem with his.

If he wished hard enough, maybe she'd be there. Maybe she'd come wandering into the gym like she had all those years ago. Maybe they'd make up.

Wishes helped pass the time until he saw her again, but did nothing to satisfy his longing.

--

Staring at her now, unconscious and unresponsive, he regretted every selfish thing he'd thought that made him want her back. She'd been drowning, silently calling out for help, and they'd all ignored her. And now here she was.

Seated at her bedside, all he could do was think. Thing about the days where they'd had nothing to worry about, the days where they were crossing the country in the span of days, the days where they'd feared for their lives with each passing day. What he would have given for just one of any of those days. Because she would have been alive and smiling and happy.

He blinks away his tears, releasing one of his hands from hers to brush away those that escape. He sees the small rise and fall of her chest, the slow but steady beat of her pulse on the monitor, the only signs that she's alive.

He lowers his head to her side, allowing for ragged breaths to escape his lips. He pleads to the gods, pleads to the Fates, to bring her back to him. Even if they never get back together again, even if he has to watch her fall out of love with him and in love with someone else, he'd be happy only to see her alive. That's all he could ask. For her to be alive and awake.

And then he finds himself speaking.

"What did you get yourself into this time, Tess?" A cynical laugh escapes his lips. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there to protect you. I was being tortured myself, but if I knew you were in trouble, I would have fought my way back to you. I'm so sorry I didn't. You must hate me for that."

He looks up at the slow beat of her heart pulsing on the monitor, thinking back to finding her in that cave, bleeding out on the shore. He thought of those sleepless nights, where the rapid beat of his heart and hers were in harmony to their fleeting kisses and roaming hands. He thought of the times when he'd simply held her close, the sound of her steady heart calming the nerves that came with leading a whole camp.

"Do you remember when we met, Tess? I'd heard so much about you from everyone else, and I'd wanted a chance to meet you, and little did I know that the girl who tripped over her own shoelaces was somehow the all-powerful daughter of Poseidon. We were only thirteen, hardly aware of ourselves than each other, so I didn't know just how big of a part you'd play in my life, Tess."

He searched her face: her shut eyes, her bruised lips. How many times had he lost himself in those turquoise eyes that always seemed to match the mood of the ocean, or was it the other way around? How many times had he dreamt of those lips, had he kissed them?

"And then we started to get older, and I started to think of you more and more. I looked forward to the activities we had together, my heart would start racing at the thought of you. I didn't care about any other girl in this camp, because you were it. I'd lie awake at night, praying to my mother for a sign that out of everything that had gone wrong in my life, you would be the one thing what would go right. And she heard me."

He brushed his thumb over her hand, over the dirt and the scars from battles long since fought.

"I remember the moment that I fell in love with you. It was the Fourth of July game of Capture the Flag, and you'd just defeated the Nike campers. You were standing at the top of Zeus' Fist, the flag in your hands, and even amidst the madness and celebration, you were the only thing I could focus on. You were drunk on victory, your eyes glowing with power, a grin on your lips, and then you looked at me, and I knew I was head over heels in love with you. And then everything happened and..."

His voice cracked.

"Please wake up, Tess. I know you must be so scared right now, trapped within your fears and your worries and your anxieties. If I had known what you were going through during the year and a half that we'd been split up, I would have rushed right back to your side. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you. But I need you to come back to me."

Tears started to spill down his face.

"You're the light in my life, Tess. Life without you...I don't want to dare it. I know it's selfish, but I need you back, Tessa. The decision lies with you, and you're so tired and so hurt and you must want nothing more than rest. This life that we live...it's not an easy one. But I will never leave your side again, because with you, I can do anything. You make me stronger, Tessa."

He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his hands trembling.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can, if there's some shred of your mind that the Curses didn't touch, just know this: I love you with every fiber of my being, Tessa. I've loved you for years, and I will love you until I am nothing but dust in this universe. I can't bear to think of another day where you are not going about your life, smiling and laughing and being your fiery self that I love so much, even if I cannot be a part of it. I just need to you to wake up, Tessa. Please."

He didn't realize that he was crying until he'd finished speaking. Kaden sighed and turned, releasing one hand from Tessa's to reach for tissues, when he felt it. A flutter of movement where Kaden's hand met Tessa's limp one.

When Kaden turned back, Tessa's fingers had ever so slightly curled into his.