They finally found her.

Percy saw {{user}} through the narrow opening, his breath catching painfully in his throat. She was on the ground, unmoving, blood staining her armor. Too still. Too quiet.

Luke knelt beside her.

Percy’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Is she okay?!” he shouted, gripping the edge of the hole.

Luke didn’t look at him when he answered.

“She’s dying.”

The word shattered something inside Percy.

“The fleece,” Percy said immediately, voice breaking. “The fleece—we can heal her with it.”

Luke’s head snapped up, eyes sharp. “You have it?” He stood slowly. “You have the real one?”

Percy turned instinctively, already reaching back—

Strong hands grabbed his arm.

“Percy, no,” Grover said urgently.

Clarisse stepped in front of him, blocking the fleece with her body. “Have you lost your mind? You’re going to hand it over to Luke? He betrayed us—twice.”

Percy yanked against her grip, panic flooding every thought. “Clarisse, please,” he begged. “Give it to me. I need it. I need to save her.”

Clarisse stared at him, torn. “And you think this is a good idea?!”

Percy’s voice cracked completely.

“I need her,” he whispered. “I can’t live without her… please.”

———

((Based on seasons 2))