Navani
Start Date: March 23rd, 2010
End Date: June 3rd, 2010
Revised: May 12th, 2012
Summary: Not all love stories end with "Happily Ever After" - The tale of Poseidon and Sally.
Characters: Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson, Poseidon, Zeus, et al.
Disclaimer: The Percy Jackson universe wasn't mine, isn't mine, and (in all likelihood) will never be mine! No money is being collected or made; though, I'll gladly accept positive/constructive reviews ... and cookies.
Background: I wrote this fic during my last year of undergrad, winter 2010, instead of working on my thesis - ah, procrastination! :-) It's a hybrid between the books and movie, calling upon select elements of each and tossing in a whole bunch of my own personal musings. Hope you enjoy!
Eternity
In the beginning, there was Chaos – an amorphous, gaping void encompassing the entire universe, surrounded by an unending stream of water. The domain of the Ruler of All Things.
Order from Chaos. With Ophion and the North Wind – sky from sea, stars and dark. A vast earth where one might wander and dance. Where one might seek out exotic creatures and countless beasts. Life and death. Man and monster. Sea and air.
The Sky does not feel. Death does not breathe. Ocean does not wake. Awareness – "muchness", some would say – is not inherent. Four billion years: A primordial RNA soup, stromatolites, eukaryotes. Creating life is not an easy task; the Ruler of All Things is not burdened by time.
You do not exist, some say, until you have a name.
"Samudrá," they whispered. "Dyú. Daívya."
What names?
Aluluei, Cliodna, Ukanipo, Seaxneat, Pawnee. The Greeks were first to get things – all things, but not most things – right; to build statues. The Romans, despite their thieving ways, to grant knowledge to the future. Perhaps that was why we grew so attached to their names, armour, and symbols.
Mystery exists. It is not man's task to know all things.
July, 1969 –
Hell's Gate, British Columbia
The sight was, just as Simon Fraser first described, terrifying: sheer cliffs and screaming water, the full force of the river constrained to a thirty-five meter opening. Laura Kersey had refused the trip down the canyon citing financial reasons ("I'll wait - take the kids, dear"); truthfully, the sight made her stomach churn. She could hardly watch as Jim, Allison, and Ben stepped into the gondola.
One hundred and sixty meters above, you could feel the ground shaking. It was no small relief when the gondola docked soundly on the other side, and Allison's little body raced out into the sunshine in a blur of four-year-old spunk. Ben, too old at age seven to admit to childish fascination, followed. Jim last, eyeing the thin cables with a silent, grimacing prayer. At least they were on solid ground.
The lower viewing deck featured a small movie theatre, restaurant, and souvenir shop: everything you'd expect to find at a tourist trap. Reassured of her family's safety, Laura's felt herself relax; her gaze flicking between the viewing deck, the other tourists, and the July 19th edition of Woman. She didn't see the accident happen - but she heard the resulting screams.
"A little girl! - she just fell in!"
The world moved in slow-motion; racing to the banister, the sound of the magazine hitting the ground. Jim shouting from the viewing deck. Men and women racing for a view, one already praying.
She screamed. Screamed - again and again, oblivious to the woman who embraced her, and the man who kept her from leaping off the cliff. Screamed like a mother and an animal, until her voice was hoarse. Until she collapsed on the dusty ground, exhausted and tear-stained. Until the police arrived, wrapped her in a blanket, an asked for a statement from more-neutral observers. Then it turned to whimpers. Then silence, with her arms wrapped around a still-sobbing Ben.
"Search and Rescue is combing the river as we speak," a constable said, his tone implying 'For a body' - it was called 'Hell's Gate' for a reason. "Do you have a car? - Yes? No, I'm sorry, sir. You're in no fit state. Constable Carthy will drive you to the Station."
Years later, Laura could not remember the car ride, or the hours spent in the police station as Constable Reynolds coordinated search teams and answered telephone calls. She could not remember day passing into night, or Mrs. Carthy bringing over dinner, or Mrs. Reynolds caring for Ben. She could not feel her muscles ache, protesting the hard plastic chair. She could not remember the radio crews arrive. The world was chaos and noise.
News arrived at half-past six the next morning, the sun just barely awake and the landscape bloody.
"They found her - she's alive."
The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, which had camped outside the police station all night, cited the event as a miracle. "A four year old American girl, vacationing in British Columbia with her family, has been found alive and unharmed after falling into the Fraser River at Hell's Gate - a stretch of river well-known for its deadly waters. She was located this morning by a gentleman walking his down, over sixty kilometers downstream."
Allison was awake and alert, slightly bruised but otherwise unharmed, when Laura, Jim, and Ben arrived at the Hope Community Hospital. "She's in shock, though - " the doctor warned, barring the entrance to the room. "It's expected - she's been through quite an ordeal."
"Shock?"
"Yes – or, some sort of hysteria. She claims that a little boy rescued her, and spent the night taking care of her. Her guardian angel, I suppose. No boy was found at the scene."