Love didn't give him any answers, though. Love didn't give him any power to help her. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and her pain was searing itself into his memory. This was how he was going to remember her, this ending in pain and blood, this ending he couldn't stop.
Tragos didn't know how he was going to be able to keep his promise to her: Don't go after Apollo.
Apollo needed to suffer like she was suffering. Over and over again. Tragos squeezed her hand tightly in his and kissed it, kneeling beside the couch where he'd lain her to wait for the ambulance. His other hand tried to smooth out her forehead, but the pained creases were too deep. Her hair, which had almost dried during the movie, was soaked again in sweat, and he could see the blood on the inside of her mouth still.
Fuck she was still looking at him like that, like he could do something, say something. "Don't give up," he told her, eventually, shifting closer on his knees. "Don't give up. You're a fighter. You're the daughter of Ares, you're stronger than this. Look it right in the eye and don't back down, like you didn't back down against Barak, against Apollo, cos you're not weak, Marcie. You're not weak, and you're not gonna die weak. You're a fighter."