Poisonous  (AU)

Parties like this only happened once in a lifetime. The sound, a pounding rhythm that seemed to sweep everyone up in its joy and life, the smell of sweat and the screeching of so many people singing, talking, celebrating. The flashing lights that illuminated bursts of strangers who smiled and hugged you like you were best friends. The burn of alcohol and the understanding that no one around you was under three cups and you yourself weren't entirely sober either. Luke loved parties like this.

That's why whenever he and the Stolls-- his half brothers-- were in the same city, there was always a party like this.

***

"STAY DOWN!" An unfamiliar voice shouted at him, "MAKE ONE MORE MOVE AND I'LL SHOOT!"

Confusion washed over his lead laden limbs. Something was missing. He knew something was missing. Namely the who and the what and the where. Luke struggled to breathe. He felt like his entire chest had been crushed in upon himself, every rib shattered, both of his lungs impaled, and his heart squeezed into putty.

There was something sticky all over his face, his arms, him. He tried to remember-- god what was this feeling? He always remembered. Every last detail. Happy as the moment he meant Thalia Grace, Miserable as the moment he listened to his mom breathe her last. He remembered his first taste of alcohol, the first feeling of skinning his knees, the first time he heard glass breaking.

Why couldn't he remember?

There were sirens all around him, screams and orders. He knew there was something wrong: There was a weight on his back crushing him to the floor, his limbs seemed to expire on him, the blinding white light had flooded over Luke like a sea. He was swept up in it, lost in it.

"ZOE! WE'RE LOSING HIM!"

Luke felt his muscles clench and unclench and everything shake and seize and break. He felt every tremble downloading the pain in his memory as if to make up for that missing time. It wasn't right. He couldn't move his body, not in any way that counted. He was on familiar ground that he knew he he had seen before. The tiles were dark but they leaked drops of liquid, splatterings of red and amber. Alcohol and--

Fresh footsteps. Luke heard the new voices shouting over one another but never finishing their statements, every word was a blow to the head.

There was commotion nearby. Luke could see it through the haze that had pulled him under. Medics: underdressed, with white gloves painted red. So very red. They were surrounding something---

A medic confronted him, blocking his view of the outside. He was an average height, shining a flashlight in Luke's eyes before he could catch much more than the silhouette. He was saying words Luke didn't want to hear, not after a party, not after waking up in cold sweat, so confused.

"What the Hell is in his system?"

***

Luke woke up in an interrogation room. He was handcuffed to the table, his limbs feeling only slightly more useful than before. He was still in his clothes, the same clothes he remembered picking out specifically for the party. The white tank top, tight against his skin, black lettering that spelled out some band he didn't like but Thalia did. She had demanded he buy it with his "million dollar allowance". The jeans were dark blue, enough to look black in the backlash of the strobe lights. His hands still had the black sharpie drawn X's on them that proved he had been let into the club legally.

Luke strained his eyes. He was alone in the room, the air conditioner hummed through the wall. He should have been grateful for that, a sound, any sound, but Luke's blood had already run cold, and everything seemed to pale in the comparison to his reflection in the one way glass.

He was covered in blood.

It wasn't his.

It reached from his forehead straight down his cheek, like face paint, scarlet as roses, dried and flaking as it peeled off his neck and stained his t shirt. There was a distinct handprint on his chest, and another on his exposed arm. Long scratches raced his shoulders and his throat, nail marks made by a desperate animal.

Luke's eyes stared back at him, not believing-- refusing to believe any of it. No this wasn't happening. It couldn't happen. It was suppose to be a fun night.

He couldn't... he couldn't remember.

The door opened and Luke looked up more fearful than he had ever been in his life. Sure he had spent his fair share of time sitting in this chair, mouthing off to police interrogators, biding time until the charges against him were dropped. But he'd never been covered in blood. He'd never blanked on exactly what had happened. He never forgot anything.

The woman who walked in was years older than him. She had tanned skin and violent, searching eyes. She radiated a cool control that filled the room until Luke was almost choking on it. Her hair was braided behind her back and her suit tailored and fitted. She carried in two millia folders, one blue and one red.

She looked him in the eyes, so cold, so hateful, Luke wanted to throw up.

"Mr. Castellan," She said his name formally, as if addressing him would humanize him."Do you know why you are here?"

"Where's Thalia?"

"We'll get to that. Answer my question first."

Luke swallowed hard. His throat was drier than sandpaper. His brain was fuzzy around the edges, filling the silence was flashes from the night that he could remember.

"Drinks on us tonight!"

"Hey, hot stuff, Wanna dance?"

"Over my dead body--"

"Luke wait. Luke!"

Luke gasped in pain, doubling over in his chair. He dry gagged, bringing up nothing but stomach acid and a tidal wave of agony. He could hear her screaming, why was she screaming? He swore to protect her.

A hand cuffed the side of his head, hard enough to jostle him from his own memory. When had his own thoughts become an unnavigable maze?

"Hey." The woman's voice was sharp, "Castellan! Damnit! You breathe and you collect yourself and then you tell me exactly where you got Kronos!"

Luke heaved another breath, "What... What's Kronos?"

She looked at him, "Don't play stupid with me. You had more of that drug in your goddamn system than we have recovered in the past two years."

"I don't..." Luke tugged that the metal bracelets on his wrists, "Where's Thalia? Is she okay?"

The woman slapped the folders on the table. "Have you ever been to jail Mr. Castellan? It's not made for arrogant little boys such as yourself. Rich daddies kids? Doesn't matter how much money you have. Jail will break you. Your best bet right now is to give out exactly who gave you that drug."

"I didn't...I swear! I didn't take any drug!" Luke blinked hard. He hadn't taken any last night, had he? No he'd been with Thalia. They had that pact: alcohol until of of them dropped, but no drugs. Her brother had gotten addicted not too long ago and he was sent to rehab.

(Thalia hated talking about her family; Luke didn't push any further)

The woman glared at him. Her hands tapped the folders on the table. With a twitch of her nose she opened one and read from the file.

"Luke Castellan. Age 20. Son of the big CEO of Hermes Enterprises. More money and more cars than you know what to do with." Her eyes flickered back up at him. "Brought in on multiple charges of underage drinking, petty shoplifting, and general disturbance of the peace." She closed the file, "and now a charge of first degree murder."

This was not happening. This was some hallucination-- an after effect of alcohol poisoning. The blood on him couldn't be real. He wasn't a killer. He was Luke. He didn't even know how to kill someone, who would he want to kill? He just wanted to take Thalia out to a party.

"There's gotta be some misunderstanding." Luke scrambled for an excuse, "We were all drunk-- I don't do drugs, much less whatever the Hell this Kronos is." He gulped for air, "Please if you just ask Thalia--"

"Luke! Stop! Luk--Agh!"

"I'm afraid that is going to be impossible." The Woman said her voice colder than the winter nights in the city.

Luke opened and closed his mouth. He wanted to pull his hands over his ears and block out what he knew was coming next. Those words-- They were lies. They had to be lies. But there it was suddenly in his memory. A flash of the strobe lights, the loud pounding base drowning out her scream. The two of them pressed against the wall and her blue eyes dripping black mascara tears.

"You killed Thalia Grace, Mr. Castellan."
***

Hello, it is I, the author. First off before anyone starts to bash me for writing another one shot rather than a chapter to one of the ten other stories that I have left on cliffhangers,  there is something very important I must say:

This one shot has been in the making for two months, non stop. This is my pride and joy. And what you have before you is barely a fourth of the very first chapter to my already completed book.

You can find the rest of the chapter on my profile page and I will be updating it daily until the story is told.

Thank you to those who have already checked it out, and I'll see the rest of you who are interested soon!!

Valete!