(BOBBI/LUKE) The Taller They Stand...

[Max Darke]

She had never been afraid of death. Now, laying on her back and unable to move, it seemed more surreal than she had imagined. She had nearly died, she had been broken physically and mentally to the point of no return. Now there she was - on the brink of death, and not feeling a thing. Her life floated before her eyes, the monster crying out above her seemed so different, insignificant as Jeanine took her hand and raced out the door. Then came the fire, the orphanage; she remembered it as crystal clear as glass, hanging to the skin of memories to remind her that people hurt.

She remembered Jeanine dying, filled with love for her sister: the real-time Max was filled with anger, and in a rush of rage, she threw a dagger into the heart of the beast. It fell into her, and she didn't have the strength to push the corpse off of her legs, but instead she just waited for death to take her. She couldn't move. It was hard to breathe. So she was going to wander away in these fields forever. No hero. She had lived a decent life with the crap thrown at her, but in the end there was no such thing as a hero, and certainly no such hero inside her; with this, it was the damning fate that she would lose everything she had fought for on a daily basis: herself.

Her breathing slowed, and the cold air faded away. Death seemed welcoming. Even if she was going to hell, it would be better than this. It had to be. Getting tortured was nothing knew. With the traces of a grin, she thought about the way she had lived her life over the series of sixteen - almost seventeen - years... She had stood tall. That was the problem. The taller they stand, the harder they fall? Something like that. Either way, she found it relaxing as she drifted off, assuming that she wouldn't wake up again.

*****

She was deposited in the Fields of Asphodel in calm defeat; there was no happy ending, and she accepted that. It was all okay. Her feet dragged through the murky air and placed herself underneath a tree. She leaned back, waiting for herself to forget why she was there. Though, something inside of her told her to hang on too her mind. At least she would prove something to Hades. This would prove itself not hard, when she looked to her left and saw a face. A face that hadn't been seen in so long, yet it was so recognizable as her face.

"J-Jeanine?"

No. She couldn't be here. She couldn't! This... This was not right! Her older sister should have been in the hero's place, not here! Max got up, almost waiting for something to happen. She was taller than Jeanine now, and looked more nourished since she had gotten meals three times a day for almost a year. Well, before she decided to take off, but that was beside the point. Shaking, Max touched her sisters cheek. Jeanine squinted her eyes and tilted her head. Oh no. Oh no. Not this, not this, not this! Anything but this, please please.

"Who... Are you?"

Overwhelmed with emotion, Max withdrew her hand. It hit her just how hard it must be to lose your mind. Shaking and almost crying, Max did the most... Well, the most Max thing she could do: she slapped her sister. Hard. Jeanine stumbled backward and clutched her face, more startled than hurt because pain was less here. Without a word, Jeanine stumbled off into the void. Well that was it. The only reason she had to fight was gone. She was totally unloved, and no one would probably ever now she was dead. She bit her finger as a year broke through her cheek. The blood broke through the barrier of skin. The fighter reduced to rubble, the flame reduced to ashes; she had no point to move on.

She stiffly and shakily walked back to the tree, then rested a hand on it so she wouldn't fall. Instead of remaining her composure in lowering herself down, she collapsed into the dirt. Not crying, not feeling remorse, just wanting to die. There had to be an end, and if she forgot who she was, than she had died. Another lurch inside of her came with the realization that Bailey didn't know where she was. They hadn't spoken in forever; nor did David or... Finn... Finn... The guy who had dropped off the frigging planet. She half wanted to hang on just so she could punch him when he got down here. Maybe if he hadn't of sauntered off, she wouldn't have left the damn camp in the first place. But no. She couldn't blame it on him. It was her fault, and nothing could change that.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before she was getting up and looking around, teary-eyed but somehow calm. A spark renewed within her when she recognized a face. And another one. Bobbi... Luke... Bobbi and Luke. They had died only weeks before, they might have their me memory. She got up, now steady, and started running. It seemed that it took longer than it should have, but it was fine; she reached them anyway.

"Name, age and parent. Mortal and immortal. Now." She said, hoping that they knew who she was and they knew who they were. They had to have their minds... They had too. Though, she didn't know how long it took to lose your mind, but still. With a firm voice, she continued. "Max... ine... Darke, sixteen, Nike..." She cringed a bit from memories. "John Darke." No time for hellos, no time for anything, really. Just time for figuring out a way to be the hell out of there, which totally contradicted her earlier thoughts, but she needed to find a way to flip Hades off somehow for putting her sister here. Big or little, she was going to fight back.

[Bobbi Rianne Koester]

Getting lost within the dusty depths of her mind was an easy thing to do here in the Elysian Fields - presumably, it was what all the other spirits spent their time doing. Drowning in their thoughts and forgetting reality; it could get to the point where they were so oblivious to their surroundings they forgot it entirely. Words could not describe how grateful Bobbi was that she wasn't one of those spirits with empty eyes and still, black hearts. Who knew what those spirits thought about? They had a library of a lifetime behind them to think about; the daughter of Poseidon didn't know what the case was for them, but all that Bobbi had done whilst thinking of her life was regret how she had lived it. Shutting people out, making them feel unappreciated.

She had been praying. For a chance to do it all again. But that wasn't going to happen, and she knew it. Nobody could escape the clutches of the Lord of the Dead and if, for example, somebody did happen to slip between his fingers back up into the sunlight and the stinging, fresh wind of the real world, what would they do? They would have no place to stay. Everybody would presume themselves crazy for merely setting sight on them. Maybe Bobbi should give up, accept the fact that only seventeen years of her eternal existence had been spent doing what she had been lucky enough to have the privilege to do. And she had wasted it. Even though she and Luke had promised to keep each other sane, she could feel herself slipping away. She had to think before remembering simple things - even her name. She'd once muttered quietly to Luke, "Who's my godly parent?" but he hadn't heard her, and Bobbi had eventually remembered. Relief had swept over her. But she needed to keep thinking. Now. Always.

The girl came in a blur; Bobbi hadn't realized that it was a familiar face at first, until she spoke. The daughter of Poseidon hadn't recognized the only feature that was exactly the same in life and death, the eyes. She'd never spent so much time looking at Maxine Darke's eyes before, but now she realized there were so many unique features about them. A startling blue-gray, full of determination and lacking optimism all at once.

"Name, age and parent. Mortal and immortal. Now."

Bobbi didn't so much as think before she opened her mouth to speak. "Roberta. Bobbi." She wasn't sure which one she was anymore; maybe Bobbi had been her in life and Roberta was her in death. Either way, she wasn't quite sure of her identity anymore. And oh, it was a painful feeling. "Koester," she added lamely at the end after a bit of shamefully required thought. "Seventeen..." The word meant more to Bobbi now, with how short it was. Most people would have regarded so short a life as unfortunate, even morbid. "Jasmine Koester." For whatever reason, that one name was vivid in her brain. She could still picture her, with mahogany hair and a smirk that made it look as though she had mastered the Mona Lisa's mysterious smile. She had to pause and think a little more before answering the daughter of Nike's last question. "Po..." It was right on the tip of her tongue, so near her, as though she needed to catch it in the air. It floated feet before her, taunting endlessly. "Posei... Poseidon." The word was so painful.

But here Roberta was. Facing Max, the most indefatigable camper that Bobbi had ever met. Max was here; between the triangle of determined demigods, surely they could find a way to make their ways back.