All I Want ((Mia)) ((PG-13))

“Please don’t clink. Gods, please don’t clink,” she muttered, pushing her bangs out of her eyes as she marched towards the Principia. She held the messenger bag that hung across her body close to her side, praying all the while that the contraband within didn’t jostle and start clinking. Why her cousin had sent her the damnable rum when she couldn’t drink it at camp, she didn’t know. Gods only knew what Elijah would do if he found out she had it. Even if she wasn’t going to drink it – honestly, why people thought drinking alone had any appeal, she would never know – he would still take it and dump it. Even if the Greek was loathe to let good booze go to waste, if she didn’t turn it over she would get guard duty, and that was the last thing that she wanted – or needed – right now. Her only hope was to get it to Elijah before someone from First found out and let it slip that she had it and maybe, maybe, she would be spared. At least, that’s what she was hoping for.

She climbed the front steps and went in, looking around for signs of life. Mia breathed a sigh of relief when she neither heard nor saw anything, the set of her shoulders relaxing somewhat. The Greek pulled the bottle rum out of her bag as she walked back to the offices, humming softly to herself. The song was Beethoven’s Cello Sonata No. 5. She had learned to play the piece when she was back at home; the twins, Emilia and Terra, had slept easier, they had discovered one night when Mia hadn’t been able to sleep, when she played her cello. As such, Mia had been frequently enlisted to help put the girls to sleep when Blayze had to work nights, and the song was quickly ingrained in Mia’s subconscious. She often found herself humming it, and would normally feel more at ease if she was actually able to play the piece.

The woman froze when she turned the corner to the Praetor’s offices, finding Calix sitting at his desk with his head down. She returned the bottle to the bag, and instead pulled the baklava she owed him out. She approached slowly in case he was asleep; it wouldn’t have been the first time she found him slumped over asleep. “Calix…” she called softly, only a few feet from him. She walked around the desk, setting the Tupperware down as she did, and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Come on, Calix. You know you shouldn’t sleep at your desk...” Not like she could blame him though, given everything he had gone through these past months. She wouldn’t want to stay in that room either, if she were in his position. Not that she would ever admit it to him. Whether either of them liked it or not, Mia was still a medic for the Legion, and still his primary care giver after the incident. She wasn’t about to let him let himself go, and that included screwing up his neck and back by sleeping at his desk.

Calix never liked the way this felt.  He could feel it approaching, like a tickle on the back of someone’s neck when there’s another person behind them or when someone could smell the oncoming rain. But instead of turning around and confronting the person or heading inside to take shelter from the storm like a practical human being, Calix remained in the same spot and let himself be spooked and rained on. And once that rain began, it didn’t stop… for the longest time. That’s how Calix felt currently. Like he was enduring the second week of thunderstorms. Lightning had yet to hit him but it was only a matter of time. Did Calix want to be struck with lightning? No. Did he care if he did? Not really. Everything became too much. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move. It was a miracle he got out of bed that morning and every morning. Calix knew what the effects could be if he let this wave completely drown him. He didn’t want that to happen. But doing paperwork didn’t clear his mind in the way that he hoped it would. In fact, it filled in a way he didn’t want. Too much to work out. Too much to figure out. Too much. All too much.

He didn’t know when all of it would stop. He thought everything was resolved when… She came back. But then She left again and… he was plunged into nothingness. How stupid was he to invest so much time and care into one person? Pretty damn stupid. Pretty fucking stupid. This was why he didn’t want this! He didn’t want anything to deal with emotions any larger than desire. But he couldn’t go back. For the sake of the Legion, he couldn’t be that person again. He couldn’t revert back to cold and hateful because of one person. Calix thought he was better than that. He knew he was better than that.

That’s when he heard a voice. Calix didn’t lift his head but grew more alert. He knew that voice. Mia. Calix felt his body relax just a little bit. Not any other Legionnaire to see their praetor at nearly his worst but a friend. He could have used a few friends right now. But Calix found it hard to even lift his head to greet her, so he just took a deep breath and waited for her to eventually leave. Funny enough she didn’t and came around to his side of the desk. He could see her feet when she came up beside him and shook his shoulder. Calix grunted. “I’m not sleeping,” he grumbled before lifting his head and looking the older girl in the eye. “You must be here for something.” Calix could hear the difference in his voice. He felt guilty for the hardness of his tone but couldn’t help it. Any show of emotion could lead to something very bad. And even though Calix acted like he didn’t know Mia’s purpose, he did catch a glimpse of the baklava she held in her hand.

((Stalking.  Just in case you guys didn't know... and just so you know, Calla is upset she wasn't invited))

Mia rolled her eyes at her friend's grumbling response. "Sure, I believe you," she said sarcastically, perching on the edge of his desk with her arms crossed over her chest. "Just like I believed you the last time and the time before that and the time before that..." She smiled, leaning towards him. "Get my point, Calix?" Mia straightened and looked around the room. She wanted to know what bothered him, but knew better than to push for what was bothering him, not when he was like this. So she would wait until she got more information borne of lighthearted teasing, genuine concern, and some quiet observation. It made her heart ache to see him like this. He looked exhausted, she noted when she gave him a once over, but she knew that it went deeper. So she did what any good friend would do: open up the baklava and start chowing down.

“Mama sent this over in the last care package, and I figured with everything going on, you could use a pick-me-up,” she said, setting it in front of him. Mia looked around the office then, hoping that he’d take the baklava. She noticed the piles of half-finished paperwork and was reminded of how her half-brother had reacted to the death of his fiancé in a hit-and-run. Paperwork from work remained half completed and he slowly fell apart until their parents had swooped in to care for both him and his twin little girls. By the time Mia had shown up, Blayze had been on a one-way trip to rehab and a future filled with Addicts Anonymous meetings. Thus began the ritual of sitting on the roof of their parent’s brownstone and sharing a drink or two while the two talked about anything from life to politics to football to Shakespeare. That in addition to therapy seemed to help him pull through and while he still struggled from time to time, Blayze was in a better place now than before.

It gave her an idea though. Despite the situation being entirely different than Blayze’s, their only commonality being that their significant other was gone, from what Mia could see, Calix was in a similar place as Blayze had been, prior to therapy and their nights on the roof. Calix needed something to help pull him through, and who knew? Maybe Calix would go for a few drinks. Surely Elijah would understand, right? After all, the two lived together. She picked up a piece of baklava and looked it over before taking a thoughtful bite. “You know,” she started nonchalantly. “When I was in New York, my step-brother, Blayze, got me hooked on dipping baklava in this one rum. We would sit on the roof of our parents’ brownstone for hours, going through whole batches of baklava, splitting a bottle between the two of us. It really is quite delicious.” She pulled the strap of her messenger bag over her head then, setting the bag on top of his desk. Mia took the bottle out of the bag then and set it in front of him, turning the bottle so he could see the label.

“You said that I was here for something, and I am. Blayze sent that to me. I was coming by to turn it in, you know. Give it to Elijah to dump and be a good role model or some shit like that.” Mia spoke in a soft voice, crossing her arms over her chest. ”But, listen. I’m going to be straight with you because I care about and respect you. No beating around the bush or sugarcoating anything. You look like you’re almost on Death’s door, and I should know, since I personally brought you back.” She paused then to let him think and to gather her own frayed nerves. Who know asking one of her closest friends and crush to get drunk with her for his own benefit would be this difficult? Mia took a deep breath and played with the end of her scarf, not looking at him. “Look, Calix. I’m worried about you, okay? And… for what it’s worth, I suppose I know what you’re going through? Not completely, of course, but what understanding I do have is something, right? And maybe, just for a few hours, you could just be. None of the responsibility that comes with being a Praetor, none of that annoying ass paperwork that you seem to love so much, none of the pain that comes from being left behind. Just you and me, sitting around, having a few drinks, and goofing off like we used to before we had to grow up.”

It took a lot to become friends with Calix Kiril. It took a lot more to remain friends. Calix was a man to sulk as he did currently. All those droll looks and blunt words didn’t go away once anyone got to know him better… if anything, their exposure only increased. And those who really cared about the praetor would simply roll their eyes when they noticed him being more antisocial than usual and try to get him up and active and doing something he enjoyed. Calix always felt grateful that he had those people in his life, especially those who didn’t take any of his sorry excuses. A friend like Mia. Part of being one of Calix’s closest friends were the undeniable privileges given. Other campers wouldn’t even dare to be this close to the praetor. Those odds slimmed even more if he had some work on his desk… it didn’t matter if he had plans to do them or not. Mia knew all too well that Calix had absolutely no intention of working anymore… because she knew him. In the daughter of Jupiter’s case, she pushed him to do things he liked to do… and eat snacks he necessarily shouldn’t be eating but liked to eat anyway. Calix nodded numbly, and his eyes were drawn to the baklava tin that she seemed to pull out of thin air. He wasn’t even surprised anymore. Mia had been part of his life long enough to know exactly what would get him talking or moving or whatever.

Calix and Mia had known each other since childhood and knew him better than anyone else, save Calla of course, but the Legacy of Mars was an entirely different story. He sat a little bit straighter and picked up a piece of baklava. He took a tiny bite and looked up at Mia as she continued to talk… about her step-brother and alcohol. Calix sighed inwardly. Camp Jupiter had a strict policy when it came to drinking. None. No alcohol. It didn’t matter if you were of age or not. The praetor didn’t like that it impaired people’s judgment. He didn’t need that risk in the Legion. Before he could voice opinions that Mia had surely heard before, the Centurion pulled out the bottle of rum she had been referring to and set it right in front of him. Calix grumbled audibly. So she came here for business. Calix didn’t mind that. He made a reach for the bottle to dispose it… but Mia wasn’t done. Calix withdrew his hand and looked up at her again. “I never properly thanked you for that, did I?” Calix knew that no words could properly express his gratitude. How could you properly thank the person who gave you back your life?

It spoke volumes that his current demeanor mirrored that of when he was literally dying. That made Calix’s stomach churn and suddenly the baklava didn’t seem that good. He took another half-hearted bite and looked down at this desk. Maybe he was in physically good health but he felt his mind rotting away. He clenched one fist. He didn’t want to listen anymore. He knew how he acted, but he couldn’t help it. Well, he could. But… doing normal things just felt hard. If Calix had it entirely his way, he’d be in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The thought of paperwork at the moment made him nauseous. Then Mia threw out the words. Left behind. Calix inhaled sharply and pushed back his chair. He wanted to. He wanted a distraction. But he couldn’t stand. He could barely breathe. Calix stared at his lap. “It’s not that easy, you know,” he said after a while. He let silence fall for a few seconds, trying to take all of his feelings of anger, hurt, betrayal and everything else and turn them into words. “I thought… I thought this is what I wanted. All I wanted. I became praetor, I continued my family’s legacy. I fell in love with someone… or at least I believed it was love. We even got married. We were going to start a family.” Calix felt a pang in his chest. “I’m twenty-one and didn’t have anything else to look forward to. I rushed everything and, logically, it fell apart. Now I’m at the beginning. And I just… What do I want?” Calix buried his face in his hands.

“I was betrayed, Mia.” He spoke, all muffled. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know where to go from here.” But Mia gave him a path. He stood up suddenly and stomped into his room. Calix opened drawers and pulled out two glasses before making his way back to his desk. He set both glasses down and dropped himself in his seat again. “So fine. Let’s drink. Let’s talk. Let’s forget.” He crossed his arms and looked at Mia expectantly. Now something other than sadness took its place in Calix’s eyes. Something closer to insanity or desperation. He was ready to get this over with. He didn’t want to be sad anymore. Anything to forget. Anything to get Her out of his mind.

She stared at Calix, seriously surprised that he wasn’t tearing her head off over having alcohol in camp. It was a MAJOR no-no, and even if she didn’t actively bring it in, she was still at fault. So there was that shock value. But what really got to Mia was Calix’s reaction to left behind. His pain, his anger hit her like a brick wall. Oh gods, why did she bring that bitch up? She wished she could take the words back, but then, Mia wished she could do, change many things. She couldn’t of course, so she did what she could: she listened.

She listened and she realized that even with the pain of Ojobi’s abrupt departure, Mia didn’t know a damn thing about what Calix was going through. Not truly. Even after he left, Mia was never like this. She didn’t let people get close to her romantically. Well, at least that was what her old therapist said. But let it never be said that Mia didn’t at least attempt to care for her friends and alleviate their pain. “You just have to find something else to live for, I guess…” She said, rubbing his back with the same gentle hand she used when Calix was on his death bed in the infirmary. “It will… take time. But you’ll find it. You always do.” Then he stood, walked away, and Mia was left with her hand hanging in midair. The woman sighed and rubbed her face, muttering a “shit.” She should have gotten him out of here before pulling out the alcohol, she should have waited to mention the bitch, she should have done so many other things but no. She didn’t do any of those things and now Calix was going to close her out and it would be even harder to get him to open up and out of the Principia. She knew him, didn’t she? Calix was one of her oldest friends and yet she couldn’t even talk to him properly.

But when he came back, with glasses in hand, Mia blinked. “Uh, Calix..? I think that if we’re gonna drink, we shouldn’t do it out here… What if a legionnaire comes in? Wouldn’t exactly be the best thing, you know?” She cleared her throat and look between him and the glasses and the rum, thinking of where to go that limited the amount of possible exposure. “Come on,” she said, standing with a grin. “Follow me.” She grabbed the rum and the baklava and walked to his room. This was a risk, but where else in camp could they pull this off without having to walk all the way to the woods? Mia set the bottle of rum and the tin of baklava on his nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed. “I figured that we could stay in here and just lock the door… I mean, I guess we could go into the woods or something if you don’t want to stay here…” Mia trailed off and looked at the ground. She just needed Calix to open up.

Something else to live for. The words made Calix want to laugh. He spent years trying to find that. New things to live for. At first, he had to find something to live for other than the Legion. That ‘something’ was Lúthien. And she did nothing but ruin his life. Maybe this entire descent into madness acted as a lesson to the Legacy. To never forget that the entirety of his existence belonged to the Legion, and if he ever tried to break from that, it would result in disaster. Calix thought that the universe could do a kinder job in sending the message. Maybe dispatch a carrier pigeon with the message and not do it through self-starvation and crippling depression. Another thing he became well versed in: the cruelty of the universe. It took away his home. It took away his humanity. It took away his self-respect. It took away happiness not once but twice. It took away his will to live. Calix sneered at himself. Then why couldn’t he just die? Everything he lived for, everything he wanted and worked hard for would all be taken away eventually. So what was the point in trying? What was the point in living this life if the universe would take everything away? Who CARED if he always found it? IT WOULD NEVER LAST. Calix inhaled deeply, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes. His chest throbbed painfully. He wouldn’t cry. He’d just drink.
 
After he returned to his seat and made himself comfortable for a night of carelessness and irresponsibility, Mia reminded Calix of a vital piece of information. If he personally banned drinking for anyone in the Legion, it would not look good if a praetor and a centurion were caught partaking in the taboo action. His face morphed back into something resembling a scowl. Would this attempt to get on with his life be ruined by the universe as well? Mia didn’t seem as willing to accept defeat as he and simply stood, taking the alcohol and the baklava and walking rather briskly to his room. Calix stayed in his seat for a moment, looking after her with a half-amused expression. After a second or so, he stood and followed her, curious of her plan. When he entered, Mia was already seated at the edge of his bed. The sight made Calix’s jaw lock in the slightest. He walked over to his desk and pulled out the chair. Calix turned it around and sat, resting his arms on the back. He shrugged. “There is a lesser chance of us being attacked in the middle of our drinking session here.” He motioned for the bottle. “Let me fill up the glasses.”

Mia handed him the bottle and watched him pour, encouraging him to fill them as much as possible. She accepted the glass with a small thank you, and took a hardy gulp of the brown liquid. It burned, going down her throat, but it was a familiar one. At a loss of what to say, she looked around the room for some sort of clue, something that she could say to get Calix talking. Her grandmother had once told her that a person’s things showed what they valued, what they cared about, and what secrets they kept hidden. She didn’t know if that was necessarily true, but…

In her own life, Mia kept a copious amount of knickknacks in her small bunk; small treasures from her time in Greece littered the small night stand by her bed and pictures of family and close friends who might as well be counted among her family were pinned to the walls and tapped to the posts. Her bed was rarely ever made, and even in the event of an inspection, Mia would merely throw her comforter over the bed and call it good. Mia had claimed the top bunk as a sort of catch all: dirty laundry, the occasional books, the occasional care package box for storage, and other things all found their home there. A deep purple curtain hung from the top bunk, giving the privacy so desperately needed to sleep soundly.

But Calix’s room? It was a wreck. There was an upturned chair in the corner by the foot of the bed, and another nearby that honestly looked like one of the legs had been broken off. Clothing was everywhere, on the floor, hanging out of partially opened dresser drawers, even the door leading to the bathroom. She even spied a pile of armor on the floor in a far corner, a thick layer of dust clouding the metal’s shine. Papers were scattered on the desk at Calix’s back, and on the floor to his right. It seemed some had slipped of at some point; perhaps a wayward breeze had pushed them off the desk’s surface? No, the woman thought. That seemed unlikely… The room smelled musty, as if it hadn’t seen a breeze of any sort for quite some time.

Mia sighed and set her glass on the nightstand beside her. The mattress softly creaked as Mia flopped back on it to stare at the ceiling. “Mama said you should come out sometime this year. Maybe for Thanksgiving or something? She says that she wants to meet all of you.” It was idle chit-chat, nothing more. But Mia realized the inevitable failure of any attempt to get Calix to open up at this point would not go over well. “Though…” she mused with a wayward grin. “I don’t think we’d survive a meal with Calla and Elijah at the same table.”

Calix saw Mia’s eyes around his room. He could feel her judging him. If it were any other day and any other situation, Calix might have felt shame. But he didn’t. The only emotions in him were anger and resentment. He knew the state of his room. He didn’t care. Mia should have been glad that she got him on a day when he decided to take a shower. Sometimes he remained in bed all week without moving a muscle. Anger. Anger. So much anger. He downed his drink as if he were taking a shot. The alcohol seared his throat, bit at the dryness and made him want water. But at this point, he couldn’t have cared less about what his body wanted. He poured himself another drink and took it the same exact way. The pain, the sting. Part of him worried that the next step of his downfall would be to pick up a new vice. Something equally as damaging as his starvation and dehydration… like alcoholism. He did have the contraband to support it. Then he thought about what happened when those first vices got out of control. How he ended up in the camp hospital. An IV in his arm, giving him what he needed to survive. Did he really want to go through that again?
 
The follow-up question of, ‘did he really care?’ caused him to pour another drink. Before he could knock it back, Mia spoke. At first he didn’t know how to respond. Something as simple as a dinner invitation seemed like something from another lifetime. So normal. So stress free. Did that even exist anymore? Calix gave Mia a dubious look. Especially when she brought up Calla and Elijah sitting at the same table. One of them would not be leaving the gathering alive. “Probably not a good idea,” he said curtly before drinking his third glass. He filled a fourth. “Calla wouldn’t even go if she knew that Elijah would be present. I don’t understand why they hate each other so much… actually…” He knew why Calla didn’t like Elijah. Or at least part of the reason… and it had to do with him. His hand tightened around the glass.
 
“It’s my fault. But what isn’t, really?” Drink. Fill. “Calla is partially upset because she’s not praetor… like I promised her when were kids.” Drink. Fill. “I broke my promise and she’s not happy with me. She hates me and she hates Elijah. But I guess I do deserve that. Though in my very weak defense, I thought she was dead.” Drink. Fill. His world started to spin. “And I had to make a tough decision, and I did but everyone is mad at me, and I’m no good at this stupid fucking job anyway. I mean, this is the second or third or whatever the fuck number it is time that I’ve done this! I’m not surprised the Legion wants to fucking impeach me yet!!” Drink. Fill. His room started to spin around him. He pointed his glass at Mia and some of the liquid sloshed onto the ground. “What’s the point, huh, Mia? Can you tell me that? What’s the point of trying. What’s the point of living in this stupid fucking world when all that’s going to happen is that I’ll be left. Abandoned. I’ll always end up in my room. Rotting away like the pathetic son of a bitch that I am.” He drank and began to cough violently. He recovered for a split second to bite out, “I hate everything.”