trigger warnings: references to past abusive relationships, intense discussion of mj's sexual assault

*

"Here's what I'm thinking," Rose says at breakfast. She spreads her hands wide, eyes glittering. "Beach day."

In the time between finishing their cooking lessons and now, MJ and her friends have gone on a few adventures. First, the Doctor took them to a carnival on a planet called Korax. They rode a ton of rides, ate lots of food, and the Doctor and Jack competed over who could win the girls more stuffed toys — MJ won without trying. Then they ran from evil cat robots in the 62nd century. Rose still has scratches on her ankles that haven't healed. After that, they went to and were almost immediately banned from the Glass Pyramid of San Kaloon. Most recently, they went to Wicked's opening night on Broadway. It was MJ's first Broadway show — Rose's first too — and it was amazing.

Crazy development: MJ might be a theater nerd now. The costuming alone had her swooning in her seat.

And now Rose wants to go to the beach.

"Why the beach?" the Doctor asks, crinkling his nose.

"I want to go swimmin' in the ocean," Rose says simply. A cheeky grin crawls across her face. "And I want to see Jack shirtless."

Jack smirks. "And I want to see you in a swimsuit, Rosie."

"Oh, I love the beach," MJ sighs dreamily. "Swimming in the ocean, sunbathing on a towel, reading a good book, having a picnic in the sand..."

The Doctor pushes his oatmeal around in its bowl — despite all their training, they always keep breakfast simple — and stares into the distance thoughtfully. "S'pose I could take you guys to Thalassa."

MJ perks up. "Is that a planet named after the Greek personification of the sea?"

"It is!" the Doctor says, beaming. "It's a beautiful planet and the people, the Thalassians, are lovely. But the best time to go is during their Festival of the Trees. It's the only time of the year when the beaches are empty 'cos they're celebrating the forest and the spirits they believe inhabit it. They're not allowed to go to the beach. It's illegal and sacrilegious."

"Is it illegal for us to be on the beach during the Festival?" Rose asks.

"'Course not," the Doctor says as if it should be perfectly obvious. "We're not Thalassians, are we?"

Rose claps excitedly. "Yes! Beach day!"

MJ smiles uneasily and goes back to eating her food. It's only just now occurred to her that she hasn't been in a swimsuit since Luke shattered her confidence. Usually, she wears two pieces, but the thought of her friends seeing her scars makes her stomach turn. No, she'll have to wear a one-piece. Does she...does she actually own a one-piece swimsuit? Maybe she'll make up some lie about not feeling well and send them along without her.

Honestly, it wouldn't be a total lie. Because they still haven't talked about the elephant in the room, and they never will because why would they? What MJ saw as a betrayal, Rose and the Doctor saw as a meaningless moment. It's haunting MJ, but they've already forgotten it ever happened. But isn't that how it always goes? MJ's always reading too much into things, always obsessing over stuff that doesn't matter, always blowing things out of proportion and catastrophizing. It's who she is. It's who she's always been.

When MJ gets back to her room, she searches every nook and cranny for a one-piece bathing suit but no, she doesn't own any. And that used to make perfect sense to her because she used to love what she saw in the mirror. She used to smooth her hand over her scars with a proud smile because she survived. Surviving is all a demigod can ever hope for. Now she tries not to look in the mirror. She smooths her hand over her scars with a grimace. She covers up to hide the imaginary imperfections and she cuts herself down and she is who she's always been, but she's not the girl she used to be.

And for that, she's going to burn Luke Castellan at the stake.

*

The beaches of Thalassa are like something out of a dream.

The sand is pink, the water the bluest blue she's ever seen. There are no annoying seagulls to steal your food or strangers you're forced to share your space with. The sand isn't searing hot beneath her feet, and the sun shines just the right amount. Even better, the oceans here are clear of pollution and microplastics, unlike Earth's oceans. On Thalassa, polluting the water is punishable by death.

MJ thinks maybe Earth should take a page out of Thalassa's book on that one.

MJ and her friends lay down their towels side-by-side — despite having the place all to themselves, they have no intention of spreading out too much. Jack sets up a nice big umbrella to shade them from the sun and then he and Rose shed their clothes and sprint to the water. MJ sits criss-cross on her towel and pulls out her craft kit.

"You're not going to swim?" the Doctor asks, gesturing to the crystal clear waters with a jerk of his head.

He's showing the most skin she's ever seen from him — for the first time since she's met him, he's ditched his usual leather jacket-sweater-jeans-combat boots look for a pair of TARDIS blue swim shorts and a black short-sleeve shirt. He's much hairier than Luke, but she doesn't mind. In fact, she thinks she likes it.

"Maybe later," she says. She searches her thread collection for the perfect shade of pink to start her embroidery piece. "For now, I want to stitch this."

He moves closer, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Can I watch?"

"Sure."

They sit like that for at least an hour. At some point, the Doctor asks if he can hold her and she agrees, so he wraps his arms around her torso and pulls her flush to his chest. All the while, Rose and Jack frolic in the water, laughing and splashing each other. It has all the makings of a perfect day.

"You're incredible," the Doctor says, his voice right in her ear. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd hate you for being so talented. Rassilion, I still kind of hate you for being so talented."

MJ preens under his praise. "Tell me more about how amazing I am."

"It doesn't even look like thread," he tells her, brushing his fingers against a section of the sky she's already finished. "Seriously, it looks like a painting. Like a painting that should be in the Louvre. Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen someone so good at embroidery."

"Wait until you meet my mother," MJ says without thinking. "She's the best. No one's better at weaving or embroidery than her."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a mix of emotions clash on the Doctor's face — nerves, shock, and happiness all warring for center stage. Then the war ends and the Doctor scoffs lightly. "I'll believe it when I see it."

MJ hums, focus still dedicated to her project. That's the only reason why she's staring at the waves that lap gently against the shore. Not because she wants to go in or anything. She's just making sure she captures it right.

Oh, who is she kidding? MJ wants nothing more than to pull off the shorts and top she chose for today and dive into the beautiful water. What kind of creatures live in Thalassa's oceans? If she brought Percy here, could he speak to Thalassa's sea life as he can Earth's? Could he control the waters just the same? Her mind whirs. Would Cabin 4 have the same effect on alien flora as Earth flora? Could someone from Cabin 9 operate alien machinery as instinctually as they can human machinery?

Gods, she has so many questions. She should write them all down so she doesn't forget them by the time she fully integrates her worlds. Which she will do...eventually. Maybe once the Second Titan War is over, she'll bring the Doctor, Rose, and Jack to camp to meet everyone. They could park the TARDIS right in the middle of the green, and maybe the Doctor could even take some campers into space just to see the stars up close.

MJ's yanked from her thoughts by Rose shouting, "Are you two going to sit there all day?"

"Yeah, come join the party!" Jack hollers.

MJ's fingers twitch. She sets her almost-finished craft aside and eyes the ocean longingly. She hasn't swum in an ocean since August. She misses it. She shakes her head at herself, nibbling on her bottom lip. Fuck Luke Castellan. She might never get the chance to swim in an alien ocean ever again, and she's not going to pass it up just because he made some stupid comment about her beautiful body.

"I'm gonna go in," MJ declares. She looks at the Doctor with a soft smile. "You coming with or do you want to stay here?"

He grimaces. "Er, I dunno."

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt and it suddenly occurs to MJ that aliens can have body image issues too.

"You don't have to take your shirt off if you don't want to," MJ says quietly.

It makes her feel like a hypocrite because she doesn't want to take her shirt but she's going to anyway. It's different for her, though. For her, taking her shirt off and letting everyone see her scars is a victory. It's a point scored against Luke in a game she plans on winning by a landslide.

The Doctor shrugs half-heartedly. "I'm fine where I am."

"Okay, Doc."

She quickly presses a kiss to his cheek, then gets to her feet. She unbuttons her jean shorts and slides them down her legs. As she steps out of her shorts, she becomes painfully aware of three pairs of eyes watching her very closely. Heat rises to MJ's cheeks. She'd expected the Doctor to maybe glance her way, but she hadn't expected Rose and Jack to stop and gawk at her. She grips the hem of her purple Hello Kitty shirt, skin crawling at the very thought of taking it off.

She doesn't want to do it, but she has to. She needs to.

MJ takes her shirt off.

She'd chosen a retro green bathing suit with high-waisted bottoms and a halter top. Small white daisies accentuate the neckline. MJ quickly applies a leave-in conditioner to protect her curls from the salt water, then ties her hair up in a ponytail, avoiding making eye contact or so much as glancing at any of her friends. She only tears her gaze from the pink sand beneath her when another pair of feet enter her vision.

MJ meets the Doctor's gaze. A pleasant chill runs down her spine at the look in his eyes — pure, unadulterated affection, and all for her.

"You're so beautiful," he says softly as if he's in awe of her. His face is flushed pink. His eyes sweep over her like one might examine a piece of art. "All of you is so, so mind-breakingly gorgeous."

"Careful, Doc," she teases, pride swelling in her chest. "Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you're in love with me."

His blush worsens. His gaze flickers away for a second. "There's something I want to say but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

MJ glances behind her to see Rose and Jack have resumed their splashing around. She offers the Doctor a tentative smile. "You can say it. Just don't be too surprised if I hit you or something."

He takes a step closer to her and leans in. His breath brushing the shell of her ear, he says, "Your scars are most definitely not a turn-off."

Warmth floods her body. That ache between her legs makes itself known again. Gods, she wants to fuck this man. She might go into a fugue state afterward, but it'd almost certainly be worth it. His hands are so big and his lips are so pink and he looks at her like no one else has before — as if she is everything. As if the universe revolves around her.

She swallows hard. "Doctor, I—"

"What are you two doing?" Jack yells.

"Leave 'em alone, they're flirting!" Rose admonishes him.

"No, they're not," Jack says. "They're just standing really close together and staring at each other. And you know what, Rose? If you're not brave enough to say it, I will — I don't think it's fair we just have to keep looking at her back and the Doctor gets to keep how she looks in a bikini all to himself. What happened to equality, MJ?"

MJ whirls around, both middle fingers up. Rose and Jack freeze. They're staring at her scars, the color drained from their faces. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, resisting the urge to put her shirt back on.

"Holy fuck," Rose swears. She blinks a few times and her cheeks color. "What-What happened? Did you fight a bear or something?"

"I bet it was a wolf," Jack says, his debonair smile back in full force. "Right, MJ? You totally kicked a wolf's ass."

"No, it was a lion," Rose says. "Or a tiger. Or like a jaguar!"

MJ cracks a smile. "It was none of those things."

"It was a wolverine," Jack guesses. His face lights up. "It was the Wolverine!"

"No and no," MJ says, walking up to them. "It was..." She trails off, waiting until they lean forward in anticipation before she finishes, "A long story."

Rose pouts. "Oh, c'mon, we've got time!"

"Ooh, or we could build a campfire and tell stories around it and make s'mores," Jack suggests, eyes glittering as the three of them wade into the perfectly cool water together. "I've never done it myself, but I've read about it—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." MJ puts her hands up, signaling for him to stop. "Are you telling me you've never had a s'more before?"

Jack shakes his head. He looks a bit sheepish now. "It's uh, not really a thing anymore in the 51st century."

"Unacceptable," MJ declares. "Rose, you've had s'mores before?"

Rose rubs the back of her neck. "Um, sort of. Not roasted over a fire or anythin', but we've made 'em in the microwave."

MJ gasps. "Blasphemy!"

"Well, that's the plan, then," Jack says. "We'll swim, picnic, then have a little campfire."

"Aye-aye, captain," MJ teases.

She walks along the bottom until the water is up to her chin. The water feels amazing, and it's so clear that she can see little fish dart around her feet. She's never been in an ocean like this — an ocean full of life and free of pollution. It's incredible. She'll have to bring her loved ones here someday.

MJ dives under the water and swims far out. The water's calm enough that she doesn't have to worry about being swept out to sea. She floats on her back with her eyes closed. It's more than peaceful — it's a serenity she hasn't felt in...quite some time. Then tension leeches from her bones. Her mind quiets. Here, in the water, there's no impending war or backstabbing best friends, no confusing relationships or stupid body image issues. There's just her, the sea, the light breeze, and the sun's warmth.

She could stay like this forever.

A sharp whistle startles her from her reverie. She opens her eyes to see her friends frantically waving their arms, gesturing for her to come back to shore. She shifts upright and looks around, expecting to see some form of danger — a tidal wave, a storm, or a predator. But there's nothing. Nothing but her and the open sea. She supposes she's pretty far out, but it's no distance she can't cross with relative ease.

Then again, they still don't know she's a demigod.

MJ takes a deep breath and starts swimming to shore. She cuts through the water with well-practiced ease. She's been swimming most of her life, from trips to the beach with her mom to breaking into community pools with Luke and Thalia to swimming at CHB with her friends and siblings. She's no child of Poseidon of course — and thank the gods for that —but she's a damn good swimmer. She and Cilla had even planned to do a triathlon together after they graduated from college and got their own place.

MJ winces at the thought. She really needs to call Cilla. They've been texting now and then, but it's not the same. They used to talk every single day. It's strange how you can go from spending every day with someone to hardly speaking. Strange and deeply depressing.

She tries to shake off the negative thoughts as she nears shore. She emerges from the sea, barely winded, and shakes the water from her curls. The Doctor, Rose, and Jack are on their towels again, waiting for her.

"It's picnic time!" Rose exclaims when MJ gets close to them.

They gather around a picnic basket the Doctor and Jack had prepared while MJ was floating. The Doctor passes MJ a grilled chicken sandwich with mozzarella, roasted red peppers, arugula, and balsamic glaze on toasted ciabatta bread. There are chips and fruit salad to have on the side, and ice-cold sodas to sip on between bites. Jack tells them a story about the time he met Julius Caesar and Cleopatra as they eat.

"No way," Rose laughs. "You did not say that."

"I did!" Jack insists. "I did, and I almost got executed for it." He shakes his head. "Royalty, man. So sensitive."

The Doctor bumps his shoulder into MJ's. "We got stuff for the fire and s'mores as well. Figured we could start after the sun sets."

"Sounds good," MJ says with an easygoing smile. She takes another sip of root beer. "This is amazing, guys. Well done."

Jack and the Doctor beam at her.

"I've got to start thinking of spooky stories to tell around the fire," Rose says. She taps her nails against the side of her can of cherry Coke. "That's what you do, right? Tell spooky stories?"

"Traditionally," MJ says. "You can also sing campfire songs or share secrets."

Jack grins crookedly. "You know any good campfire songs?"

The first songs that come to mind, of course, are demigod campfire songs, like Grandma's Going to War and Going on a Drakon Hunt, but obviously, MJ can't teach them those. So she'll have to rely on her brief stint as a Girl Scout.

"Yeah, I know a few," she tells them. "Great Big Moose, Bug Juice, The Littlest Worm I Ever Saw, Make New Friends..."

Rose shakes her head, laughing. "You're making those up. No way those are real songs."

"They are!" MJ insists. "We learned them in Girl Scouts."

Jack's brows raise. "You were a Girl Scout?"

"Never made it past Brownie, but yeah," she says. "I haven't mentioned this before?"

"No, definitely not," Rose says. She tilts her head thoughtfully. "It's funny. You're my best friend but sometimes, I swear, I don't know the first thing about you."

It's an innocent enough comment, but it makes MJ's blood run cold. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she forces a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. You know plenty about me."

Rose shrugs. "I guess."

"What do you mean you guess?" MJ demands, eyes narrowing. "What don't you know about me?"

Besides the fact that I'm a demigod, I mean.

"I don't really know anything about your dad," Rose says. "I hardly know anything about your life after you got off the streets, 'sides all the stuff you've told us about your siblings. I don't know your favorite song, or your favorite flavor of ice cream. I don't know why you say 'Oh my gods' instead of 'Oh my god,' or how you know things you shouldn't know."

"What do you mean she knows things she shouldn't know?" Jack asks.

"When we had the displeasure of meeting a Dalek in 2012," Rose says, "MJ knew that the Dalek was a Dalek before the Doctor told us it was. How could she possibly know that?"

"I'm clever." MJ downs the last of her root beer and jumps to her feet. "And I'm going back in."

Jack's voice trails after her. "Aren't you supposed to wait an hour before—"

"That's an old wives' tale," MJ cuts in without looking back.

She practically throws herself into the water. She swims far out, away from questions she doesn't want to answer and friends she knows she's losing. There's a distance between them that grows the further she swims out, but she can't bring herself to bridge the gap.

It's for the best, she tells herself. The TARDIS is not her forever. The Doctor, Rose, and Jack are not her forever. There's no use in putting down roots or tearing down her carefully constructed walls. All of this is temporary.

Diving underwater to try and find an alien seashell for Percy, she makes a decision. The next adventure they go on, no matter what it is, will be her last. She'll have the Doctor drop her off in NYC halfway through the summer — that should give everyone at camp plenty of time to save Thalia's tree. She'll take the Gray Sisters' taxi to CHB, and she'll never see Rose, Jack, or the Doctor ever again.

It's for the best.

*

ROSE

"She's pushing us away," Rose says with a scowl, watching MJ swim toward the horizon.

"You're pushing her too hard," the Doctor counters. "I mean, c'mon, Rose. Her best friend of ten years betrayed her in one of the worst ways possible and you expect her to be an open book? I consider it a bloody miracle we know as much about her as we do considering how long we've known her."

He's right, of course, but that doesn't mean she has to like it. Rose wants so badly to be there for MJ, to be to MJ what Mum and Mickey were to her after Jimmy Stone, and MJ simply won't let her. Are the concrete walls MJ's built around herself perfectly understandable? Yes, of course. Are they really fucking frustrating to encounter every time Rose tries to get to know her new friend a little better? Yes, to the point that Rose sometimes feels like maybe she's that guy eternally pushing a boulder up a hill. What's his name? Syphillus or something?

MJ would know. MJ knows everything — except how to let her guard down, apparently.

Rose's scowl collapses into a slightly sheepish pout. She swirls around the last few sips of her cherry Coke like a fine wine. "I know, I know, I get that. But you can't act like she hasn't been avoiding us lately."

"Avoiding you two," Jack says, grinning smugly. "She likes me just fine."

Now it's the Doctor's turn to scowl. "I just don't get it. Everything was good and now she's so angry with us, and I don't know why. I wish she'd tell us what we did wrong."

Rose and Jack exchange looks.

"Hey, Doc, why don't you bring this stuff back to the TARDIS?" Jack suggests casually. "Don't want the bugs getting to it."

"Aye, aye captain," the Doctor says, gathering the fruit salad and the dirty plates. He shoots Jack a look. "And don't call me Doc."

Once he's out of earshot, Jack turns to Rose with raised eyebrows. "How long are you going to keep pretending like you don't know why MJ's upset?"

"S'long as it takes the Doctor to figure out why MJ's upset," Rose says. "She obviously wants him to figure it out, and if he finds out I know, he'll just try and pester the answer outta me."

"Okay, okay, but can't you at least talk to MJ about it?" Jack asks. "She's really hurting, Rosie. And I can't say I blame her. You two were in your own little world when I teleported you."

Rose throws her hands up in frustration. "Yeah, 'cos we were talking about MJ!" She knocks back the last of her Coke and sets the can aside. "I was tellin' the Doctor he should sign them up for dancing lessons as like a cute, romantic thing without it being like, too couple-y."

Jack's expression softens. "Oh, that's so sweet."

"I was tryna be a good friend and now it's like, a whole thing," Rose says, gesturing widely. "And it's not like I blame MJ for misunderstandin', I really don't, especially since she's never been in a relationship before, but the Doctor's really startin' to piss me off. He's supposed to be a bloody genius, and yet he can't put two and two together? It's ridiculous. This whole thing could've been over by now if he would just get his head outta his arse."

"And," she adds, "I can't talk to MJ about it 'cos then she'll stop being mad at me and as soon as she stops being mad at me, the Doctor will know it's 'cos we talked and he'll know that I know why she's mad and then he won't stop bugging me 'til I tell 'im!"

Jack scratches his chin. "This seems...unnecessarily complicated."

"Believe me, I'm aware," Rose grumbles, folding her arms over her chest. "You know what? I'm going to give it three more days, and then I'll talk to MJ, consequences be damned."

Jack opens his mouth to say something else, but the Doctor comes sprinting back from the TARDIS and Jack snaps his mouth shut.

"I miss anything?" the Doctor asks, looking not at them but at MJ in the distance.

"She hasn't taken off any more clothes if that's what you mean," Jack says with a positively devilish smirk.

Rose swats his arm. "Knock it off, you." She looks at the Doctor and forces a smile. "Nah, you haven't missed anything. Just Jack and I talkin' about, er, clothes."

The Doctor scrunches his face up. "Eugh, boring. I'm going to make sure we have enough firewood."

He jogs off.

"For someone who spends so much time with humans, you'd think he'd understand them better," Jack says.

Rose lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples to stave off a headache. "Dumbest genius you'll ever meet, I swear."

Jack claps his hand down on her shoulder. "Want to get a bit more swimming in before the sun goes down?"

"Sure," she says.

"Race you to the water!" he exclaims, jumping to his feet and taking off running. Rose chases after him, giggling, her problems momentarily forgotten.

*

MJ

MJ builds a fire that would make her old troop leader, Mrs. Collins, proud. She lights it with a box of matches she'd stuck in her beach bag just in case. With Jack's help, she drags over fallen logs to use as benches. Once the flames are a decent height, the Doctor hands out s'mores materials and Jack disperses whittled branches to roast their marshmallows on. MJ is a pro at roasting marshmallows, of course, so she gives Jack and Rose some tips since it's their first time.

"How do you eat it like that?" MJ asks, eyeing the Doctor with disgust.

He picks his blackened marshmallow off his branch, says, "Like this!" and pops it in his mouth. He makes a big display of chewing and she rolls her eyes. Vile. Just vile.

"Now seems like a good time for one of those songs," Jack says. "I don't know about Rose and the Doctor, but I wanna hear the one about the worm."

MJ grins. "Okay, sure. So — and to be clear, this is a song meant for children — this one is a repeat-after-me. I'll take the role of the troop leader tonight, so I'll sing a line, you guys will repeat it, and once we finish a verse, we'll sing the verse again all together. Everybody understand?"

She gets three nods.

"Okay, so the melody is like this," MJ says and hums it for them. "Everybody ready?"

Three more nods.

"Alright, here we go," MJ says. Ducking her head shyly, she sings, "The littlest worm."

"The littlest worm," her friends echo eagerly.

"I ever saw."

"I ever saw."

"Was stuck inside."

"Was stuck inside."

"My soda straw."

"My soda straw."

"The littlest worm I ever saw was stuck in my soda straw," they sing together. Rose is already giggling, and Jack seems to be biting back laughter as well.

"He said to me," MJ sings.

"He said to me."

"'Don't take a sip.'"

"'Don't take a sip.'"

"'For if you do.'"

"'For if you do.'"

"'I'll surely slip.'"

"'I'll surely slip.'"

Then, together, "He said to me, 'Don't take a sip. For if you do, I'll surely slip."

"I took a sip—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jack interjects. "Is that really the next line?"

"Yeah," MJ says through her giggles. "These songs are weird, man."

"But that's so fucked up," Rose says, seeming genuinely distraught. "I mean, he asked them not to take a sip 'cos it'll kill him, and they do it anyway! That's cold-blooded murder."

MJ rolls her eyes playfully. "You should hear the song about the baby bumblebee. Now, are we finishing this or not?"

Three rather reluctant nods.

"I took a sip."

"I took a sip," her friends echo with much less enthusiasm than before.

"And he went down."

"And he went down."

"Right through my pipes."

"Right through my pipes."

"He must've drowned."

"He must've drowned."

Together, "I took a sip and he went down. Right through my pipes, he must've drowned."

"Is there more?" Rose asks, crinkling her nose.

MJ nods and sings, "He was my pal."

"Oh no," Rose says. "No, no, no. You don't get to kill that little worm and then call him your pal! That's not how friends treat each other! Why are they teaching this to children?"

MJ leans over and lays her non-sticky hand on Rose's shoulder. "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"The worm's not real," MJ says.

Rose pouts. "I know that, but it's still messed up, innit?"

"Hey, I didn't write the song," MJ says, raising her hands in self-defense. "Can we please just finish it? And then I promise you, we'll move on to a song you'll like better."

"Okay," Rose says a bit dejectedly.

MJ clears her throat. "He was my pal."

"He was my pal."

"He was my friend."

"He was my friend."

"But now he's gone."

"But now he's gone."

"And that's the end."

"And that's the end."

"He was my pal, he was my friend," they sing. "But now he's gone and that's the end."

"The moral of," MJ sings.

Jack throws his hands up in outrage, dropping a few graham crackers in the process. "There's more?"

"Literal children handled this better than you guys," MJ says.

"I'm not complaining," the Doctor says. "'S kind of like Ring Around the Rosie."

"If you guys don't want to sing the last part," MJ says, "the Doctor and I can just finish it together."

"No, we'll do it," Rose grumbles. "I just want to find whoever wrote this song, sit 'em down, and ask them, 'Why? Why write a children's song about murderin' a worm?'"

"That'll be our next adventure," the Doctor jokes. "We'll track down the songwriter and make 'em change the lyrics."

"Alright, alright, let's get this over with," MJ laughs. "The moral of."

"The moral of."

"This story is."

"This story is."

"Don't take a sip."

"Don't take a sip."

"Of soda fizz."

"Of soda fizz."

"The moral of this story is," they sing, all waving their hands around grandly, "don't take a sip of soda fizz."

They applaud themselves.

"Okay, what's next?" Rose asks as she assembles her next s'more. "You said there's a song we'll like better?"

"Yep," MJ says. "It's called Make New Friends."

"Oh, that sounds nice," Jack says. "Question: does the song end with us drowning these new friends?"

"Yes," she deadpans. "It's actually a requirement of every Girl Scout song."

The Doctor wipes chocolate from his face with the back of his hand and nudges her foot with his. "Alright, let's hear it."

"Make new friends, but keep the old," MJ sings. Between the sound of the ocean and the aroma of the campfire, if she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend she's back at Camp Half-Blood. "One is silver and the other gold. A circle is round, it has no end. That's how long I'll be your friend. You have a hand and I have another. Put them together and we have each other."

"Oh, I like that one!" Rose gushes, eyes glittering in the firelight. "'Cos it's us, right? Jack's the new friend, we're the old. We're always holding hands." Shyly, she adds, "And, y'know, we're gonna be friends forever."

Jack and the Doctor beam at her words, but MJ can only manage a tentative smile. Guilt settles in the pit of her stomach as they sing together. She should tell them that their next adventure aboard the TARDIS will be her last. She should, but she won't. It would just dampen the mood and put too much pressure on everyone to make their next trip a great one. No, she'll tell them after, when they're recuperating in the TARDIS after a whole lot of running.

"Got any non-children's songs in your repertoire?" Jack asks with a smirk, his brows raised.

Heat floods MJ's cheeks. "Um, yeah, kind of. But they'd require a guitar, I think. I'm sure there's one in the TARDIS somewhere, but I don't know how to play. Lee usually covers that area."

The Doctor frowns, his entire demeanor shifting — as if he's on alert for an attack. "Who's Lee?"

"My friend Lee Fletcher," she says. "He's younger than me. Talented musician, decent DJ, and on his way to honorary little brother status if he plays his cards right."

The Doctor relaxes. Rose and Jack exchange amused looks, but MJ's not sure why.

"You know, I might have something we can use," the Doctor says. "Be back in a sec."

He gets up, kisses MJ's cheek, and then sprints back to the TARDIS.

Rose watches him go, shaking her head fondly. "He's ridiculous."

"Does he do that every time MJ mentions another man's name?" Jack snickers.

MJ tilts her head. "Do what?"

"Get jealous," Jack says.

Oh. Oh.

"No," Rose answers. "I don't think I've ever seen him get jealous before. Though, I s'pose there hasn't been anyone for him to be jealous of."

Jack scowls. "Hey!"

MJ arches a haughty brow at him. "When have I ever shown the slightest bit of romantic or sexual interest in you?"

Jack has to think about it. He deflates. Sounding like a petulant child, he says, "Never."

"Never what?" the Doctor asks, reclaiming his seat by the fire. He has a finely crafted TARDIS blue acoustic guitar with him. The strings glint in the firelight.

"Nothing," MJ says hastily. "You gonna play for us, Doc?"

"Actually, you are," the Doctor says, holding the guitar out to her. "It's a psychic guitar. Just think about what you want to play, and you can play it, no lessons needed." Hooking his thumb over his shoulder at the TARDIS, he adds, "I got a pair of psychic earrings in there somewhere too, but I haven't seen them in ages."

MJ takes the guitar and brushes her fingers along the strings. She feels a nudge in her mind, not dissimilar to her enhanced intelligence.

"Okay, one short song," she decides. "Then we'll switch to telling stories." Jokingly, she adds, "Sing along if you know this one."

She plays Blackbird by the Beatles for them, her voice soft and sweet. Her mother loves this song — she used to sing it to MJ as a lullaby. MJ's so focused on playing the guitar and getting the lyrics right that she doesn't notice no one singing along until the last line. She finishes to uproarious applause.

"I can't believe this," Rose says. "You're a badass, you're a genius, you're a master seamstress, a fashion icon, and now you can sing too? Blimey, MJ. What aren't you good at?"

It's a rhetorical question, but MJ answers anyway, setting the psychic guitar down next to her. "Well, I can't play any instruments, I can't bake, I've never invented anything, I can't paint, I'm not good with plants—"

"You're funny, you're kind," Jack interjects. "You're sexy as hell."

"Seriously," Rose says. "I already thought you were stunnin' but those scars? They somehow make you even hotter."

The Doctor throws his hands up. "Yes, exactly!" Gesturing to Rose and Jack, he tells MJ, "See? That piece of trash doesn't know what he's talking about!"

Rose's brow furrows. "Piece of..." She trails off, and then her jaw drops. "Luke? That fucking bastard said your scars weren't hot?"

MJ shifts uncomfortably. She spears another marshmallow onto her stick and toasts it to give herself something else to focus on. "He, um, said they were a turn-off."

"A turn-off?" Jack echoes incredulously. MJ had told Jack about Luke over one of their sparring sessions, but she hadn't gotten into the nitty-gritty just yet. "How? They make you look like some badass warrior princess!"

"In Luke's defense—"

Rose gasps in outrage. "Oh, I know you didn't just say 'In Luke's defense.' Fuck him! There's nothing to defend!"

MJ shakes her head. "No, no, listen to me. In Luke's defense, he was there when I got the scars, okay? I nearly bled out in his arms. Can you really fault him for not wanting to be reminded of such a traumatic experience?"

"Yes," the Doctor says. "Very easily, actually. I'm faultin' him right now." MJ shoots him a dirty look and he scoffs. "C'mon, MJ. It wasn't just that he didn't want to be reminded of a traumatic experience. He insulted you! He made you feel ashamed of your scars! That's indefensible!"

"I know he was your best friend, MJ," Rose says, "but he's a right miserable cunt and you don't have to make excuses for 'im anymore."

MJ watches her marshmallow melt off the stick and fall into the fire. "I'm not making excuses for him."

"But you are, though," Rose insists. "I mean, what would you say to me if I said, 'In Jimmy's defense—'"

"It's different," MJ cuts in. "You know it's different."

"Yeah, but it's not that different," Rose says, crossing her arms over her chest. "They're both abusive sons of bitches."

Jack's eyes flicker between the two girls. "Um, ladies, maybe we should—"

"Luke's not abusive," MJ says. "He's a manipulative asshole, but he's not abusive. Just...toxic."

Rose's face softens. Her eyes are full of pity. When she speaks, her voice is soft and earnest. "MJ...he raped you."

It's a slap to the face. No, a shotgun blast to the chest. No, it's death by a thousand cuts. She's carved open, her ribs torn from her chest, leaving little to protect her heart. MJ is bleeding out onto the beach, her blood soaking into the pink sand, running over the rocks that line the fire and sizzling where it meets the flames.

"That's not what happened," MJ says, but it doesn't feel like she's the one saying it. She feels outside of herself again, like she's watching a scene being played out by actors who know she's watching and are eager to wring every emotion they can out of her. "That's not...Luke didn't rape me. Okay? It was just bad sex. It's not like he held me down and forced me. And I never said no."

Jack winces. "The absence of a 'No' is not the same as a 'Yes.'"

MJ offers up her next excuse. "I agreed to it at first."

"Consent can be revoked at any time," the Doctor chimes in. "And frankly, and I'm so sorry if I'm overstepping here, but frankly, even if you had consented, you didn't know Luke had been manipulating and lying to you for months, so it'd be uninformed consent and therefore still rape."

MJ shakes her head frantically. "No, he...Luke's an asshole, but he wouldn't do that to me."

"Like he wouldn't put Annabeth's life in danger?" the Doctor counters. "MJ, I'm sorry, I really am, but you're never going to be able to heal from what happened if you don't face the truth."

"Your truth!" MJ snaps, scrambling to her feet. "Not mine!" She steps over her log seat and gets a bit distance before she turns back around, her gaze burning hotter than the campfire ever could. "You don't know him! All you know is the shit I told you, and all I've told you is the bad stuff! But Luke was one of my best friends for ten fucking years. He's saved my life more times than I can count. When we were on the streets, he taught me and Thalia how to survive. He held me while I cried after Thalia's death and on my worst days, he'd make a fool of himself just to make me laugh."

Tears stream down her face. She makes no effort to wipe them away. Her hands are clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging crescent moons into her palms.

"It's so easy for you all to paint Luke as this heartless heinous villain because you don't know him beyond the betrayal and the cruelty," she continues. "But he wasn't always like this. He used to be so kind and brave, the kind of guy you could trust to have your back in a fight or to hold your hand when you're scared. And yes, now he's a walking, talking piece of hot garbage, but he wouldn't rape me. He could never do something like that to me. And I wouldn't let him."

Rose, Jack, and the Doctor have all gotten to their feet too. They approach her with the same caution you'd approach a feral tiger, or a glass vase one wrong move from tipping over and shattering on the floor. They all look so fucking sad. Heartbroken, and for her.

Maybe it's the looks on their faces, maybe it's the frantic thrumming in her chest, or maybe it's the strange urge to claw her skin off, but MJ keeps talking. "I'm not some helpless victim. If Luke raped me, I wouldn't have just-just lain there and let him do it. I would've fought back! I would've beat his ass into a bloody pulp! I'd never just...I wouldn't..."

It's getting harder to talk now. Her breathing's grown ragged, and she doesn't have enough air to form coherent thoughts, let alone say complete sentences. She's shaking, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. She's not sure why but she tastes blood in her mouth. Luke's hands are around her neck, his grip tightening with every passing second.

It's not true. What they're saying, it's not true. It wasn't rape. It can't have been rape. If it were, she would've clawed his eyes out. She would've broken his arms and smashed his teeth in. She would've dislocated his jaw and cut his dick off. She wouldn't have laid there and stared at the ceiling. She wouldn't have let him hurt her like that. She's a fighter. She was born to be a fighter. She wouldn't....she would never...

You would never what? a snide voice in the back of her mind whispers. You would never let Luke hurt you? Like you would never let him walk all over you? Like you'd never forgive him for kissing you without your consent and not even having the decency to apologize? Like you wouldn't let him take you to a hook-up cave when what you really wanted was to cuddle and make out on the beach? Like you wouldn't let him get away with insulting your body? Like you wouldn't let him keep you from starting a new relationship with someone you really, really like? Like you wouldn't let him worm his way into your head and under your skin, let him poison your own mind against you?

Her stomach churns. Gods, she's made so many excuses for Luke over the years. She's given him far more chances than he ever deserved. She's told herself countless lies, and why? Why? Because it was easier than facing the facts? Because she couldn't stand to lose another friend? Because even after all this time, after everything, she still looks at Luke and sees the boy who risked getting shot so she could steal a hunting knife? Or maybe it was her hubris blinding her, her pride making her unable to admit that she was wrong about Luke.

But the Doctor's right. MJ has to face the truth, and the truth of the matter is this: on the night of the bead ceremony, Luke Castellan raped her and she didn't even try to fight back. What would've happened if she did fight? How far would he go to get what he wants? How little does she truly mean to him?

A sob leaves MJ. Her legs buckle and she falls — right into the Doctor's arms.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. MJ buries her face in the crook of his neck as he holds her close. Rose joins in, wrapping her arms around both of them the best she can, and then Jack, pressing a brotherly kiss to MJ's hair. They stay like that until MJ's sobs turn to sniffles.

"Girls Just Want to Have Fun," she says quietly.

Rose pulls away, brow furrowed. "What?"

"You said you don't know my favorite song," MJ says. "It's Girls Just Want to Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper. And my favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate peanut butter."

The Doctor smirks. "Girls Just Want to Have Fun?"

"It's on the jukebox at Angela's," MJ says with a small smile. "Or it was, anyway. When Mom worked closing shifts during the summers, I'd go with her and that's how we'd end the day — she put on Girls Just Want to Have Fun and we'd all sing and dance along. Every time I listen to it, if I close my eyes, I can almost pretend I'm a little girl again, dancing with my mom and singing at the top of my lungs without a care in the world."

Her smile falls and fresh tears blur her vision. "I miss her so much."

Jack nods understandingly. "Your mom?"

"No," MJ says, shaking her head. Her voice cracks. "That little girl. The one who danced without caring who was watching and smiled at strangers and loved with reckless abandon. I miss her. I miss how hopeful she was."

"It's funny, isn't it?" Rose tilts her head, smiling softly. "You spend so long just waiting and wanting to be grown up, and then you are and all you want to do is go back to being a stupid little kid." She nudges MJ playfully. "Or a genius little kid, in your case."

"I'm only eighteen," MJ reminds her. "And you're only nineteen. We both still have a lot of growing up to do."

Rose wrinkles her nose with a fond smile. "You're right. As always." She reaches out and lays a hand on MJ's arm. "I'm so sorry about us confronting you like that. I know from experience it's not easy accepting that you're, you know...a victim."

"You're not victims," the Doctor says. MJ's still wrapped up in his embrace, and he's absentmindedly drawing shapes on her side."You're survivors."

"We're both," Rose says firmly. "We all are, aren't we? Victims and survivors, just in different ways. For me, it's Jimmy Stone. For you, it's the Time War and the Daleks. For Jack, the Time Agency. And Luke for MJ."

MJ grimaces. "I don't like thinking of myself as a victim."

"It's not a bad thing," Rose insists. "Being a victim, it's not a, uh, moral failing or whatever. Something Mum taught me — there's no shame in being a victim. The ones who should feel ashamed are the people who made us this way. And really, being a victim's only a bad thing if you let it define you and dictate how you live your life."

"But I am," MJ says. "How could I not? How can I be anything other than a victim?"

"Hey," Jack says softly. "What are you?"

She frowns. "What kind of question is that?"

"What are you?" Jack asks again.

"I'm..." She scrabbles for an answer and can only think of one. "I'm angry."

Jack raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'm angry. No, I'm fucking furious." She tears herself from the Doctor's arms, shooting to her feet. She starts pacing. "I'm furious and-and heartbroken and disgusted. But mostly, I'm just ashamed. I'm fucking humiliated because I didn't do anything about Luke. I didn't do anything to stop him from hurting my family or endangering everyone or raping me. I let him get away with so much because I couldn't let go of this-this idea I had of him. From here on out, everyone he hurts, their blood is on my hands because I knew he was becoming dangerous but I didn't stop him when I had the chance."

"You can't blame yourself for what he's done or what he'll do," Rose tells her, getting to her feet as well.

"How?" MJ demands. She surges forward and grabs Rose by the arms. "Tell me how! Tell me how to let go of this guilt, to rid myself of this shame, and I'll do it! I don't care what it is, I will do anything to stop feeling like this!"

Rose stares deep into MJ's eyes, a spark of determination burning in her own. "You just gotta keep reminding yourself — every time you take responsibility for his actions, you're letting him win. You're letting him off the hook for his own garbage behavior. Every time you want to blame yourself, you just think about how thrilled he would be to have a scapegoat, to have someone to take accountability for him so he doesn't have to do it himself because he can never admit he's in the wrong. Nothing's ever his fault. He's always the victim somehow. Everyone else is to blame, not him. Right?"

MJ hesitates, then nods.

"So fuck 'im!" Rose shouts. "Fuck him and his inability to take responsibility for his actions! Don't help him escape the blame. Don't enable his thinking that nothing's ever his fault. He made his choices, MJ, and he has to live with them, not you. Okay? There's no blood on your hands."

But there is. Suki's blood and Gwyneth's blood and all those alien experts who died because MJ wasn't clever enough to figure out that the obvious trap was a trap. There's blood on MJ's hands and on her face and her stomach and in her hair and between her teeth. She's drenched in it. A part of her is convinced she always has been, and she always will be. How could she not be? She's the daughter of a war goddess. She's a natural-born soldier, a walking, talking weapon. What is the point of her if not to spill blood?

And since she didn't stop him, Luke was able to start the Second Titan War. There's no telling how many people will die before the war ends. She already knows it'll be too many. Even just one would be too many. By the time a child of the eldest gods reaches sixteen against all odds, there will be so much blood on her that she will drown in it, and maybe that's what she deserves for not shutting down Luke's thirst for revenge when she had the chance.

But then again, Rose has a point. Can MJ really be blamed for Luke's bloodlust? Is it really on her that he chose an immortal genocidal dictator over getting therapy for his daddy issues? Maybe she should've said something sooner, maybe she should've knocked some sense into his ass with a baseball bat years ago, but maybe Luke shouldn't have decided that getting revenge on the council of deadbeat parents is more important than the lives of billions. When you think about it, is it really that hard to simply not work for and with a piece of shit deity that ate his kids? Is it really that hard to not rape your best friend? Is it that really that hard to be a decent fucking human being?

No, it's not that hard. It's quite easy, actually.

Her blood boils in her veins. She takes a step back and glances between her friends' faces. She straightens her back and raises her chin. "You want to know what I am? I'm my mother's daughter."

Her friends smile, thinking she means her mom, Caroline. But while MJ is her mom's daughter, she is also a daughter of Athena, the goddess that turned a woman into a spider for being a better weaver and cursed Medusa for hooking up with Poseidon in Athena's temple. She's the daughter of an immensely powerful and extremely vindictive bitch that tolerates no slights against her, and neither will MJ. She's already been planning on killing Luke as brutally and as painfully as she could possibly manage, of course, but admittedly, there's been a small part of her that was wondering if she has the guts to actually go through with it. If she could actually slaughter Luke Castellan after everything they've been through.

And now MJ knows — not only is she fully capable, but she's chomping at the bit. Because she's Luke's victim and, therefore, his worst fucking nightmare. She's going to make him feel every ounce of her pain tenfold and she's going to do it with a smile on her face.

*

only two chapters left in act one...what do we think, gang? any predictions?

and fret not: the next two chapters are substantially less angsty