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Chapter Text

Agent Phil Coulson narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the thin file laid before him. After the revelation of Inhumans and the outbreak that was occurring, he had made it his priority to track and bring in as many of the alien, powered individuals as possible. He and his rag-tag group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had already uncovered several, including a man named Joey less than a week ago. Little did he know that his mission would uncover a dusty case from well over 6, 7 years ago.

His interest had peaked on the subject when he saw just how little S.H.I.E.L.D. had uncovered on him; there were only but a few notes on the possible threat, which worried him. It wasn't often that this organization was found slacking on intel. He wondered briefly if there had ever been a mission to obtain and question this particular subject- he grabbed a notepad from his desk and quickly jotted down a reminder to research that later.

He rubbed his brows mindlessly as he forced himself to focus. He was having a hard time accepting that this potential criminal was only 12 when he was first recognized; while he had heard of child soldiers, he highly doubted that Hydra or any other terrorist organization would send a mere child into a mission as advanced as blowing a chunk out of the Saint Louis Arch.

He looked through the few articles included within the file; pictures of the burning monument filled the pages, along with the ever concerning grainy photo of a man-shaped blob falling in a direct course to the Mississippi River. Coulson shook his head. That fall would kill even Skye, an Inhuman. Or so he assumed; it wasn't like he had tried.

But, despite his doubts, the kid had appeared in yet another nationwide covered story- this time involving kidnapping, cross country heist led by a yet to be named biker gang leader. Dead men can't do that. And as far as he could tell, the kid's 'kidnapper' had disappeared shortly after the incident. The incident being of course, destroying a Greyhound bus, St. Louis Arch, and a few cop cars, all due to a simple kidnapping. Suspicious.

A knock on his office door jolted him out of his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, spinning the pen in his fingers. He sighed and readjusted his attention to the doorway, where Skye leaned sheepishly with a steaming mug in her hand.

"Come in," he motioned, sitting up. She strode over in her new black wardrobe; her suprisingly clean combat boots clicked on the ground as she approached him, a smirk on her face. He would never tell her this, but a part of him missed her old street style look- in a way, it made her more innocent (hardly a thing to be said about the trickster). He almost felt a bubble of shame for having converted his basically adopted daughter into this world of danger; that feeling, however, was greatly forgotten in the shadow of his great pride for all she had done and accomplished.

"How's it going, Mr. Director?" She asked easily as she set the mug down in front of him, claiming a seat in the red padded chair across from him. He took the coffee graciously, smiling at the Grumpy Cat mug. It had yet to be claimed.

"Just going over some things," he sighed, trying and failing to hide the stress. Skye narrowed her eyes and brushed her newly cut, shoulder-length chestnut hair to the side before she noticed the open manilla file on his desk. Without so much as a smirk, she smacked a hand down upon it and dragged it over to her side of the cluttered desk.

"Skye-" he began in a warning tone, but she cut him off before he had a chance to complete his thought.

"It's Daisy," she corrected lazily as she helped herself through the file. He cursed himself mentally; after the crazy last few months, Coulson kept forgetting that she had reverted to her newly discovered identity as Daisy Johnson. "Perseus Jackson, huh? His parents must really hate him."

Coulson knew at this point he couldn't stop her. He leaned back in his chair as she read the file aloud. "Residency: Summerset Avenue, Manhattan, New York... Age: 12," she stopped abruptly.

"Coulson, we're not going after a twelve year old, right?" she questioned. He shook his head. "It's an old report. He would be 18 now, if his birthday is actually August 18th."

"18," she repeated skeptically. Coulson shrugged and took a sip of the coffee, which had been sitting long enough to cool down slightly. "Do we seriously need to bring in a 18 year old?"

"That's what I want to find out," Coulson articulated. "Like I said, this is an old report. I'd like to get some new information. Feel like dipping into your old talents?"

Her eyes continued scanning the painfully thin file as she bobbed her head. "Yeah, I can do that," she announced as she slammed the file shut. She stood up and held the file to ask permission to take it; he nodded to show his approval. As she made her way to the door, a question popped into his head.

"Daisy?" he called after her. She spun around at the doorway, her dark brown eyes attentive. "How's Fitz doing?"

Her face softened. "He's still working himself to death. I-I don't know what to say to him." Her words were like a heavy weight that had been dropped on his shoulders. Everyone was grieving the loss of one of his best agents, Simmons, but Fitz was having an especially hard time. He was in a long stage of denial; he had convinced himself that the frisky scientist was still alive, somewhere... he hated to say it, but Coulson couldn't help but wondering if Fitz still hadn't fully recovered from the accident. His sense of rationality had completely dissipated, and his frustration was only growing with each passing day he failed to find a way to bring her back.

"Have him help you on that," he stated with a brisk nod to the file in her hand. "Get his mind off of it for a while, at least."

Daisy responded with a curt nod before exiting his office to complete the task.

The director's head fell into his hands as the door slammed shut. He couldn't help but feeling that this single target- Perseus Jackson- would end in much more trouble than he needed.

Chapter Text

Agent Leo Fitz slammed his head into his hands before resting them on the table. He turned grudgingly so that he had a clear view of the red blinking PROGRAM FAILURE! notice splayed across the several monitors surrounding one of his many work stations. His unshaven face, a common sight these days, scratched the part of his arm exposed by his plaid shirt. "Jemma, where are you..." he whispered. It wasn't fair. After everything they had been through, it was just their luck that one of them would be kidnapped, or teleported, or whatever had happened. Couldn't they just get lucky once? Was that really too much to ask for?

Simmons had always- mostly- been there for him; she was the one that brought him out of his shell at the Academy, the one that had challenged him to become the great engineer he was- or, at least, used to be. His talents had mostly returned to him after the accident. Tears sprung to his eyes as he remembered the day he told Jemma she wasn't just a best friend to him: she was the only one he saw himself with, she was his counterpart, his life. They had just scheduled their first date when she was stolen from him.

"Stop it," he told himself, sitting up abruptly. He didn't have time to feel sorry for himself; Jemma needed him, and he wasn't doing any good crying about it. Fitz hastily wiped a tear from his now dull green eyes and quickly began typing a new code for the scanner he was attempting to create, to hopefully find just where Jemma could be. He knew she had had her cellphone on her... she knew to turn on the beacon if something ever happened. Why he hadn't found it yet simply had to be minor malfunction. He'd find her. He had to.

Fitz had been so focused on his work that he failed to notice Daisy's entrance. "Agh!" he yelled, whipping around when she placed a hand on his shoulder. His outburst startled her equally, causing her to drop the manilla folder she had been holding; pictures and articles went flying. She shot him an annoyed glance before kneeling down to clean up the mess.

"Sorry," he said defeated in his signature Scottish accent. He peeled himself away from the multiple monitors to help her pick up the papers. His head pounded from the hours staring at the glaring screens, but his curiosity about the files distracted him enough to forget about the pain.

"What's this?" he asked her, momentarily forgetting his other mission. He glanced over the white sheet, which appeared to be a profile on a young boy- a young delinquent boy by the looks of it. This kid had a worse record than Daisy did when they picked her up those many days ago as Skye- and that was saying something.

Daisy stood. As he did the same, she brushed off her dark brown leather jacket before responding. "He's a person of interest- I think Coulson's bored. The intel is old and he wants us to do some digging."

Fitz's interest had peaked, but he still hadn't forgotten what was on the top of his priorities. He turned his head to glance back at his workspace before facing Daisy once more. He opened his mouth to decline the invitation when she cut him off. "It's an order. Come on, let's start with facial recognition. Maybe we can find a more recent school photo, driver's license, or something. The kid has to be around seventeen by now, unless he's into cryogenics or something."

Fitz rubbed his face slowly, knowing an argument against Daisy would surely result in his loss. Reluctantly he agreed and plopped back into his chair before pulling up a new tab on a monitor, closing the GPS tracker. Daisy pulled a chair up next to him. She reached over and pulled his laptop towards her, following his example. Before they began, Daisy made sure to relay everything that Coulson had told her to Fitz about the situation and details on Perseus Jackson.

Several minutes later, the two had found much more than they bargained for, and the information was still coming. The conversation of the next few hours consisted of more and more unanswered questions. By the time they were done, a stack of warm pictures and articles sat next to the printer.

Fitz and Daisy had found the kid everywhere from California to Rome- the actual one. Interestingly enough, each time he appeared to only be accompanied by other teenagers: no adults. While it wasn't that unusual for teens to take vacations with friends, it was a bit unnerving to constantly see evidence of them fighting and constantly killing men and women; in some cases, rather large dogs and snakes. In more than half the photos, Perseus Jackson was seen accompanied by a tall, athletic girl that they had pinned as Annabeth Chase: a girl with a similarly suspicious track record. Daisy had been particularly interested in the fact that the kidnapping case from those many years back included the both of them.

"We should probably get this to Coulson," Daisy finally sighed after they had sat in a shocked silence for a few moments.

And that's where they found themselves now.

"Well... wow," Coulson compiled all of their thoughts into a single sigh as he looked over his agents findings. Fitz scratched his temple. "Apparently Perseus has a knack for blowing stuff up."

"And going off grid for extended periods of time." Coulson added to Fitz's statement. "And I find that extremely concerning. We should've gotten on this case a long time ago."

Daisy huffed sarcastically and waved her hand dismissively in front of her face. "Psh. It's not that big of a deal- he's just going through his rebellious stage. Typical teenage boy."

The director glanced up from his desk with a small smile before getting back to work. He looked through the information once again, though more thoroughly this time. His eyes narrowed at the one of many photos featuring the teen. This particular image showed a nasty cut from the tip of his elbow to his thumb; blood spilled from the wound, and a look of determination was frozen on his face as he looked at an unknown target. His eyes- a vibrant, almost terrifying shade of green- were ablaze with fury. Next to him was a young woman, pushing on Jackson's chest as if to restrict him from causing more trouble. Her temple had been injured as well, spilling red onto her curly blonde hair. Another image showed the same pair in Salt Lake City, according to the date/location tag at the bottom. The boy's shirt was covered in sticky tar, while his curly haired accomplice had a blotch in her hair (or so he could tell from the pixelated security camera). He couldn't decide why the two would steal tar from a roofing store, but either way, the crime was disturbing.

He pushed the photo across his desk and pointed at the girl. "Who's this?"

"Her name is Annabeth Chase; she's the same age, and her history is pretty similar with his. Although, instead of summers, the girl was off grid for around five years. But, she tends to stay out of trouble unless she's with him. From what we found." Daisy replied, picking mindlessly at a loose string at the hem of her tank.

"Oh, and I checked. Jackson doesn't have a cell phone under his or his mom's name, but the girl- Chase does. I found the number; if we could get a call to go through, we'd have her location, at least."

A sharp pain shot through Fitz's head as he remembered how he needed to find Simmons' tracker. While he felt guilt for not focusing on that mission, he felt as though his subconscious already knew it was a race he would never win.

"Fitz," a stern Coulson brought him out of his daydreams. Daisy stared at him, concerned. "Can you get the number? "

Fitz shook his head to clear the cobwebs before nodding. "Yes, yes, yeah."

Coulson gave his agent another once over before proceeding to dig through the pile once again. His eyes lit up when he found the residential notes. "Are these up to date?" he asked no one in particular as he looked at the satellite imaging of a small house on Long Island, in a town called Melville.

"Yes, sir! His family: him, mom, and new stepdad moved out of their apartment in New York a few months ago after her got kicked out of yet another school- I think this one was Anderson High- for vandalizing the cafeteria. At this rate, he's going to be rejected by every college ever."

Coulson frowned at Daisy's response. "At this rate, he's going to end up in the Sandbox."

At this, Fitz bit his lip. In his mind, this kid couldn't be all bad. They were just getting one point of view on the whole thing; while, certainly, he wasn't saying that they should let the Jackson kid off the hook, there had to be a bigger story behind the whole thing. Especially something this crazy.

Of course, he had given Ward leeway when he first uncovered himself as a traitor... and everyone knew how that turned out.

(And again, if you DON'T know how that turned out, Wikipedia is your best friend haha.).

Back to focusing on the actual mission. Come on, Fitz. Focus, he scolded himself. He stared at Coulson's bent head, wondering if the Director was serious about putting a kid in a place as intense as the Sandbox.

Suddenly, the director leaned back in his chair. An unreadable expression sat upon his face. "Skye-"

"Daisy."

"Shit, yes. Daisy, Fitz: go get the rest of the team and meet me in the conference room. I think May and Bobbi are in the training room; Hunter's hanging out with Mack in the garage."

Daisy stood up, and Fitz followed suit. "Yes, sir!" she said overzealously before leading Fitz out of Coulson's office.

"You have ten minutes!" He called after her.

"Yes, sir!"

Chapter Text

Director Coulson scanned his group of agents and folded his arms as he finished the mission specifications on apprehending their subjects: Percy Jackson, and hopefully, Annabeth Chase. "Are they any questions?"

Agent Lance Hunter, former mercenary and current pain in Coulson's butt, shot his hand in the air. Bobbi Morse, more commonly known as Mockingbird, rolled her eyes at his childish gimmicks.

"Um, yes sir," Hunter called out in a thick British accent. "Respectively, instead of this whole elaborate plan you have set up, why don't we just go knock on his front door? Knock knock, who's there, we think you're a terrorist, oh you caught me! Bob's your uncle."

Mack leaned back in his seat, resting his feet on the top of the conference table. "Lance has a point. He's just a kid, plus your plan kind of involves kidnapping the kid... you recognize we're technically not allowed to do this, right? It'd be much easier, not to mention legal, if-"

Daisy popped her gum, standing up from her leaning position on the way. "Respectively, Hunter, you're an idiot. This kid is a maybe terrorist, who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. He's a walking disaster, and you want to show up at his front door? It's probably rigged with land mines or something."

Hunter put his hands up in defense. "Hey, hey, I was just kidding. Kind of," he added dejectedly.

"Coulson has the right play," May confirmed, shutting down Q and A time. Coulson nodded in thanks before continuing. "We recognize your concern, but the worst thing we could do is have a potential criminal on the loose. This being said, we're going in with non-lethals. Fitz, you have the I.C.E.R.S., yes?"

Fitz jolted up from his slouched position on the desk- he was still exhausted from all of his research and quest to find his probably dead maybe girlfriend. "Don't say that Fitz... if you think she's dead, she's dead..." Yet... he felt that he would be positive if she was alive. And he just didn't have that hope.

"Hey, Turbo. You've got the icers, right?" Mack tapped his shoulder. Fitz nodded, a little too violently to pull off as casual. He hyperactively tapped his foot on the concrete floor in an attempt to stay awake.

Coulson nodded before swiping the mission flash drive from the computer; the projector turned black. "Okay then. Bus is in the air in 10. Be ready to go."

Chapter Text

"Okay okay okay," Piper laughed as Leo's face glowed red. Who would've known that the best way to embarrass the Supreme Lord Commander Leo or whatever named he called himself was with a little kiss? Personally, she thought that he should be more afraid of Jason, if he didn't kill her first for daring him to kiss her. "Your turn, Leo."

"I really, really, like, really hate you right now Beauty Queen. " he grumbled as he tried to rid himself of the imaginary Piper cooties with the back of his hand.

"I really, really hate you right now Leo," Jason jumped in, his blue eyes glowing angrily like coals in a fire. Leo raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, man, she asked me to."

Percy laughed at Jason's hateful expression from across the circle as he played with Annabeth's golden hair, who was resting her head on his chest as she sketched in a small brown leather sketchbook. Jason turned to glare at his friend. "You wouldn't be laughing if Leo kissed Annabeth."

Percy almost doubled over in a fit before composing himself. "Um, yeah I would. Because then Leo would have been brutally murdered."

"You know it," Annabeth lazily pointed a hand in the air.

Piper chucked one of Percy's muddy sneakers that had been lying on his floor at Leo. "Go, Leo!"

Leo rubbed his arm and looked at Piper in shock. "Jeez, Beauty Queen, you've got an arm on you."

Jason narrowed his eyes and threw a dirty sock at Leo's scrawny face. "You can't call her Beauty Queen."

"Hey, Percy? Do me a favor and clean up your cabin next time we come here to play truth or dare. They have too much ammunition." Leo said as he peeled the sock out of his hair before tossing it behind him. "Okay... Percabeth, you're up. Truth or dare."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Percabeth?"

"Yeah, it's your ship name. Like, I don't know. Hazel, give me an example."

"An example of what?" she looked up.

"A famous ship name."

Hazel's golden eyes widened in confusion. "Uh... the Titanic?"

Leo smacked his forehead before sliding his hand down his face. "It's okay, I can use that. Rose plus Jack would be, like, Rack or something. So Percy plus Annabeth is Percabeth."

"Or Percy and Annabeth," Percy said skeptically. Annabeth glanced up from her sketches as she heard her name. "What?"

"They're trying to give us a ship name, or whatever its called. More like a shit name."

Hazel's nose scrunched up in disgust at the word. "Language," she scolded as everyone laughed at Percy's pun.

"It's not even a bad word," he complained before Leo took over the reigns once again. "Percabeth: truth or dare."

"Truth," Annabeth said without hesitation, just as Percy said dare. He looked down at her, exasperated. "No dare?"

She narrowed her eyes, which swirled grey in what could have been annoyance or concentration on the new Olympus building she was planning. "Last time you did a dare, you almost got killed. So no."

"I'm always about to be killed." He argued.

"No dares."

"Fine. Truth, Leo."

The Supreme Lord McShizzle looked up and rubbed his chin in mock thought. "Hmmm... worst day ever."

Everyone in the room froze to look at the pair. Only after the words had left his mouth had Leo realized that the innocent question was a trigger for the two: especially Percy, who tended to slip into flashbacks during the day more often than Annabeth, who was typically okay as long as she was with her boyfriend. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as everyone saw Percy's face flicker with fear for a few seconds before returning to its normal smirk. "Worst day? Um, let me think... I've had a few of those" he chuckled in an attempt to recover himself. He hated looking vulnerable in front of his friends. "Don't answer that, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth snapped, sitting up as she squeezed his now limp hands. Annabeth's had the same feeling of sudden panic in the pit of her stomach as memories from the one horrid week went through her mind*, but luckily she had found that as a child of Athena, she could typically pull her self out of flashbacks as she had the ability to easily differentiate between dreams and reality. Percy, the Seaweed Brain he was, had trouble with this and was highly susceptible to the horrid dreams. They were getting better, but Leo's question had been a trigger. They were lucky now, but anger spurted inside of her as thoughts of what could have happened went through her mind. Why would he ask that? What was he thinking?

Leo looked as white as the sea foam bubbling outside the window behind him, guilt crashing onto him like a wave. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry. "I wasn't thinking... I didn't..."

Percy smiled. "It's okay, man. "

"No, it's not. I swear to gods, Valdez..." Annabeth growled, her hands in fists. Percy hugged her tighter to keep her from getting up and killing him on the spot. That would kind of ruin the mood (more than it already had).

"It's okay. But I want to do dare now." He glanced at Annabeth like a child beginning for candy, waiting for permission. She rolled her eyes, still shooting daggers at the curly haired latino across from her. "Fine. But Leo can't make the dare. Or Jason."

Jason's face dropped. "I said sorry for last time. How was I supposed to know they stocked the woods with poisonous dragon goat velociraptor thingies?"

Annabeth shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing around like springs. "First of all, they were venomous. Secondly, Percy almost died."

"I did not 'almost die'," her messy haired boyfriend scoffed. She turned around and looked at him incredulously. "You were in the infirmary for almost a week and you were the color of vomit the entire time. You DID almost die, you idiot."

"THANK you for that visual," Hazel fake gagged. "I'll be going back to Camp Jupiter now." Piper laughed until the daughter of Pluto stood, tossing her brown curls behind her. Confusion crossed over the daughter of love's face. "Wait, seriously?"

"Not right now," Hazel said before gathering her stuff. "I'm going to go find Frank though; he's still upset about his truth."

Annabeth tried to snuffle a laugh. Jason had asked Frank about his most embarrassing moment that no one knew about: out came the Chinese handcuff story. It was a classic.

"Well, what if I dare you guys to go take us to a McDonald's? I'm craving some fries." Jason asked after Hazel had skipped out of Cabin 3.

Percy's eyes widened into saucers and he began to push Annabeth off of his lap. "Dude, YES. I need some greasy fries," he said over Annabeth's complaints. "Let's go, Wise Girl."

"Chiron isn't going to like it," Piper pointed out as she stood up with Jason, dusting off her leggings.

"We saved the world, he can get over it."

"Do I get to go?" Leo called out as he sprung up from the floor.

"No!" Annabeth and Jason replied in unison before marching out the door, Piper linked in Jason's hand. Percy laughed and beckoned for Leo to follow as he held the door open.

"Come on man, let's go."

Leo smiled, rubbing a hand through his curly hair as he stood. "Don't worry about it. I have some stuff I want to work on in Bunker Nine, anyway."

"If you say so," Percy shrugged, shoving his wallet into his jeans. "See ya later, Valdez."

"Bring me a burger though!" Leo shouted after him as Percy ran off to catch up with the other three.

"Will do!"

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Percy gasped for air, his chest painfully tight. Annabeth bit her lip. "Stop it," she scolded him, stifling a laugh as she flipped a strand of curly blonde hair over her shoulder. "You're causing a scene."

His stomach burned, desperate for air. "I'm dying... oh gods." He choked out, tears brimming his eyes. He wrapped his tanned arms around his chest as a sharp pain ran through him. Piper looked at him skeptically, as did several other customers in the restaurant.

"Are you okay, man?" Jason joked. The son of Poseidon shook his head violently, breathing in gulps like a fish out of water. "Dude, just calm down. Deep breaths."

Percy tried to utilize his advice, just to find himself shaking uncontrollably once again; he was practically falling out of his seat. Annabeth had to grip his arm just to keep him seated. At this point, Jason was no longer amused. He set his burger down and narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't that funny."

Percy caught his breath, his eyes glowing with laughter. "You two just got escorted out of the PlayPlace by a fifteen year old cashier. That's pretty dam hilarious. "

Piper's face tinted red as Jason found the need to clean his glasses with his shirt (conveniently). While they wouldn't admit it in their embarrassed state, getting stuck in the kids' swirly slide was, in fact, hilarious. They would also probably never live it down, all thanks to Annabeth's stupid (yet clever) dare.

Percy laughed, announcing, "I love this game."

Annabeth chuckled at her friends antics, extremely proud of herself for putting them through it. "Why am I friends with you guys?" she asked as she leaned against her boyfriend's shoulder. He quickly put his arm around her. "'Cause you love us."

She pretended to think about it for a moment. "I love Piper. Like Jason. Tolerate you."

"Hey!"

She laughed at Percy's complaints before pecking him on the cheek. "I'm going to go get some more ketchup. Don't eat all of our fries."

Jason jokingly made kissy faces at Percy as Annabeth strode away, past another table, near the back wall, where two of Coulson's agents sat in civilian clothing. Daisy took a long slurp out of her drink before leaning back in her chair. "Can we stalk people at McDonald's more often? The food at base isn't this good."

May stared out the window, her face unreadable as Daisy stuffed fries into her mouth. "The two kids are dating. I wonder if they were accomplices from the start."

Daisy swallowed and smiled. "Aw, nothing better than a duo of evil terrorists."

May ignored the statement. "Daisy, May. Where'd the girl go? " Mack's voice cackled over the coms.

"Getting ketchup. Keep up with the program."

Both Daisy and May heard Mack sigh in relief. "You have to get them away from the other two and out of the building." Hunter quipped.

May rolled her eyes. As if they all hadn't been informed of the mission specs. "We know. The two are leaving anyway; the guy with glasses and the McLean girl said something about heading to some camp at 3 or something."

Why aren't we taking them in? Doesn't McLean have a history with breaking the law too?

"Our focus is Jackson and Chase."

"If you say so, May."

Minutes later, the four demigods were just finishing their meals. "Jason, it's 2:30. We should probably go," Piper sighed as she swallowed the last fry. Jason frowned, knowing that she was right but, at the same time, reluctant to leave. He loved Camp Jupiter, but he had a strong bond with the campers at Camp Half-Blood now as well- especially with Leo, Annabeth, and Percy. He was lucky Piper was willing to stay at Camp Jupiter with him.

Percy stood as he did. Jason tilted his head in question when he offered his hand. "I'm going to have to say goodbye here. I was going to hang out with Annabeth for a bit," Percy clarified, offering his calloused hand with a smile.

"Hmm?" Annabeth glanced up from her seat as Jason laughed before pulling him in for a hug. "Okay man. See you in a few weeks."

"Say hi to everyone for me, Pipes" Percy instructed as he embraced Piper quickly.

"Julia always asks about you; you had quite the impression on her," Piper laughed. "I swear, she never puts that panda stuffed animal down."

Annabeth smirked, pulling Percy back to her by his hands. She looked up at him with shining eyes, so in love she could barely contain herself. "He's so good with kids, I don't get it."

With that, the blonde stood and bid farewell to her two friends. Jason led Piper out of the McDonald's and plopped into the seat of her white Toyota before taking off for Camp Half-Blood, where Hazel would shadow travel them back with the help of Percy's pet.

"So, where are we going, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth smirked, trying to hide her excitement for the spontaneous surprise he had sprung up on her. He completely missed the question, distracted by the unnerving glances a younger woman with a bob was sending him from across the building. "Percy," she poked him, "where are you taking me?"

"Hm, what?" he jolted back to reality, forgetting about the possible threat and easily falling into an easy banter with his girlfriend as he refused to tell her their destination.

Daisy smiled softly as she watched the two talk, ignoring the chatter between her team over the radio. She found the way the way Jackson and Chase interacted quite heartwarming to watch. She was beginning to dread having to take them in, but she knew that the facts didn't lie. These kids, no matter how innocent they appeared to be on the outside, were criminals. The fact that they hadn't been convicted yet was shocking. Either way, as soon as the two left the restaurant, it was go time. Mack, Bobbi, and Hunter were stationed outside in a black Lexus, Coulson and Fitz were waiting in a concealed QuinJet nearby, and she and May were trailing the kids on the ground. Coulson had instructed her not to use her powers unless absolutely needed after the entire Lincoln incident. A sharp pang ran through Daisy as she thought of the dirty blonde doctor. But she couldn't think of the run away, hunted fugitive right now. Daisy took a breath to stop her racing mind and to focus on the mission.

"They're leaving. We have to go," May instructed in the monotone way of hers, following the two teens with her eyes as they walked out the doors. She stayed seated until it wasn't obvious that they were following them before instructing Daisy to get up.

"May, Daisy, go ahead and jump in the car. They're heading away in a blue beat up Mazda."

The two agents quickly followed the orders as they were trained to do; Bobbi greeted them with a smirk as they climbed into the back of the utility truck, not bothering to find seatbelts. "Ready to hunt down some terrorists?" Hunter joked with a lift of his brow.

Daisy nodded briskly, smiling as she brushed her highlighted bob out of her face. "Let's go."

Chapter Text

"I should've know," Annabeth couldn't help but smile as Percy swung the old blue Mazda his parents had bought him as a "thanks-for-saving-the-world-twice-sorry-your-life-sucks-here's-the-best-car-we-can-afford-at-the-moment" gift into the dusty parking lot. The sun was still shining brightly, but from the time on his dash, she knew it would be setting any minute know. Her heart fluttered as she imagined what the rest of her night would hold. He shot her a crooked grin, mirth swirling in his green eyes as he unbuckled.

"I just figured it'd been a minute since we've come here, so-"

His girlfriend laughed. "It's been maybe a week, Percy."

"A week too long, you're right," he leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. "Come on. Let's go."

He jumped out of the car, quickly rounding the hood before grabbing her door handle. "My lady," Percy bowed in a cringe-worthy British accent as he opened the door. Annabeth rolled her eyes in amusement and stepped out of the car and onto the sandy pavement. He quickly swung the it back closed, wincing as it slammed into place with a bang. "Oops.

Annabeth shook her head before grabbing his hand. "Let's go, Seaweed Brain."

After a half hour of walking through the surf, pushing each other into the waves (Annabeth won; she had grinned in triumph when he tripped over himself, swallowing saltwater), and creating sand "castles", Percy and Annabeth found themselves snuggled on the sand, the waves tickling their toes. The sun was setting quickly. The sky was filled with golden and pink hues, seagulls just black silhouettes against the breathtaking background.

"Wise Girl?" Percy whispered, turning his head to look into her eyes, which were closed in relaxation.

"Hmm?" she hummed. A breeze ruffled through her hair, and Percy couldn't help but smile at how beautiful she looked.

"Percy, what?"

The raven haired teen blinked, bringing himself back to reality. "What what?"

With a grunt Annabeth opened her eyes to look at him skeptically. "You said my name?"

Percy cursed, annoyed with himself for forgetting what he was going to say. "Oh, sorry. I forgot what I was - going to ..." he trailed off, his eyes hardening as they focused on something behind her.

His face went from playful to grim. Annabeth's smile disappeared from her face as she helplessly noticed him reach toward Riptide in his pocket.

Percy's jaw ticked repeatedly in an emotion that she couldn't quite decipher. Anger? Annoyance? Frustration?

Whichever it was, she knew what was coming.

And she hated it.

"What is it this time," she sighed, turning around reluctantly, having little expectations for the monster that was surely awaiting.

Or not.

"What the Hades?" She muttered, sitting up suddenly. Three people: two women and one buff, African American male that briefly reminded her of Beckendorf were walking briskly toward them. A glance around the otherwise empty beach proved that to be true. Schist.

Annabeth glanced back down at Percy, who was doodling in the sand in an attempt to ignore the situation. To an innocent bystander he could've passed as relaxed, but Annabeth instantly noticed his stiff stature and clenched jaw. After the whole... incident... Percy had little patience for monsters and the gods. As did she, of course, but even as much as she wished it were so, life had to go on. Even if it involved monsters showing up every dam time Percy tried to plan a romantic date outside of camp.

She sighed as she stood up, reaching for her dagger inside her jacket. "Are you going to help me out with this?" she said pointedly, glancing in the direction of their pursuers, "Or am I going to have to do it by myself?"

His green eyes darted to see that the monsters- drachmae? Empousi? More rebel demigods? would reach them soon. He drug his hand through his wavy hair slowly, grabbing onto it in a way that it must have been painful. He jumped to his feet and huffed angrily, snatching Riptide out of his pocket.

"It'll never stop, will it?" he growled as he began to march toward them, but more as a statement then a question.

Annabeth couldn't help but agree.

As they made their way to intercept the trio of threats, Annabeth took the time to analyze them. The girl marching in front couldn't have been older than 25, and her attire made her look like she had just left a laser tag competition- she was fitted all in skin tight black knit. Her internal judgement meter questioned the the skinny jeans in the middle of the summer, but then again, monsters were cold-blooded. Figuratively, and maybe literally.

The black man's expression was blank, but he was obviously shaping Percy and her up by the way his eyes flicked quickly between them, and the Asian lady looked like she was trying to decide which one of them to kill first, with her hard glare. Annabeth adjusted her stance, matching her attempt to threaten her with an equally- dare she say it- more unnerving cold stare.

An itch in her brain told her that she had seen the two women before, but she couldn't decide where just yet. Besides, she was too busy trying not to die.

The two groups seemed to hit an invisible barrier when the space between them was no more than ten feet. Annabeth found it strange that the three hadn't revealed their true forms yet; she glanced at Percy to gauge his reaction. He didn't show signs of unease. Just fury. His green eyes were practically glowing, like the sky right before a tornado struck. If looks could kill... well, three more monsters would be boiling down... there. Down where they belong.

A moment of silence rippled through them as the monsters took their time to figure out what to say. The tension between them was undeniable. It hung between them like an iron curtain.

"Perseus Jackson-," the girl in front finally spoke, raising her chin as she did so. The curtain opened. Annabeth continued to glare at the woman in the back, who looked almost bored. She could imagine Percy rolling his eyes as he cut her off with a haggard sigh.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're here to kill me for revenge or whatever, and I'm going to die the most slow and painful way possible."

The three stared at him skeptically. Percy took this as an invitation to continue.

Oh gods.

(Giving Percy an invitation to talk to gods/monsters when he was pissed was never a good idea)

"Sorry- not really, but anyway, too bad I rained on your parade. I'm sure you practiced the whole campaign speech, but can we do the whole battle-and-Annabeth-and-I-kick-your-butts thing and go home? Thanks."

Hipster girl in the front raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. She opened her mouth to say who knows what, but the man behind her beat her to the punch.

"Look, kid," he drawled, glancing at Annabeth skeptically before continuing. "I'm pretty sure we're not here for revenge or to kill you."

At that Percy raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What, just maim? Torture? Send us back to Tartarus, lock us in the Fields of Punishment? Or do you serve some god we've pissed off?"

The three monsters exchanged looks, looking oddly confused. Laser tag looked back at them with pursed lips. "Um-"

"This is stupid," Percy growled, reaching the end of his patience. Annabeth didn't have a chance to react when he uncapped Riptide. No one did. In a smooth motion, Riptide sprung into its full length before her boyfriend thrust the blade into the gut of the guy.

... at least, that's what she expected to happen. A wave of surprise and panic hit her as the bronze sword flew right through him. No scream of despair. No 'poof' of gold dust. No dying curses.

She couldn't tell who was more taken aback: Percy or the (apparent) mortal. With the wasted momentum of the attack, Percy had flung straight into the sand. His eyes were wide in surprise as he spit the grainy sand out of his mouth; he glanced at the three pursuers in shock. Why were mortals after them? What did they want?

What could they do?

"Where the heck did the pole come from?" Percy's almost victim said in a panic.

The young girls' eyes narrowed as she glanced quickly between Percy in the sand and her almost-shish-kabobed-friend. "Pole? He has a sword! Pole?"

Percy stood up slowly with Riptide in his hands as the two argued about what weapon he was holding. Annabeth was partly concerned that the girl could see through the Mist. What did that mean? Was she not mortal? What the hell was going on?

"Whatever it was, drop it. Now."

The crowd went silent at the stern words from the Asian woman. "Shit!" Percy cussed, scrambling backwards haphazardly.

"What?" Annabeth whipped around. Her breath caught in her throat when saw her weapon.

She was holding a gun.

A gun.

And it was pointed straight at Percy's chest.

These people were definitely not monsters. At this point, Annabeth was wishing for a hydra, or maybe some drachmae. She could deal with those. But guns? They were powerless against guns.

The initial panic in Annabeth faded and was soon replaced by anger. This was ridiculous. She took a step towards the woman. "Don't move!" The man yelled. He had a gun too. But it was pointed at her now. She froze where she was.

"Put the gun down! Get it away from her!" Percy roared at him. He was shaking visibly with anger, but luckily had enough sense to not run at him. The man shot him a warning look without lowering the gun. Percy clenched his jaw and stared back, sending a wave of volatile silence over the five for a few moments.

And Annabeth had thought the tension was bad before.

Percy's hand clenched around Riptide's handle. The lady screamed at him to drop it again. A seagull screeched from the darkening sky. The man warned Annabeth not to move again. A harsh wind made the sand sting her bare legs. Laser Tag pulled a gun out of her back pocket - a real one, not an arcade prop- and swung it between the two of them. Waves crashed on the beach. Everything was happening so quickly. Annabeth couldn't keep up.

Her brain spun, looking for solutions to get them out of this situation. "Annabeth..." Percy said slowly, almost carefully, asking for just one way to escape this mess. Just one. Just one single solution. He looked over his shoulder at the ocean, but for once it didn't bring either of them comfort.

If he tried to use his powers... they still had the advantage. Guns. A piece of metal flying 400 miles per hour, ripping through every organ and artery and other important pieces of anatomy one needed to live.

Ambrosia couldn't cure that.

The beach was right behind them... did they want to risk Percy dousing them if they were mortals? They could use the mist to cover it up... at the same time though, they looked a little trigger happy. If he tried... was it worth the risk?

Annabeth glanced at Riptide in Percy's hand. She figured having it wouldn't make a difference either way, so he might as well comply with their stupid request. "Drop it," she told him finally. He released it without a second thought.

"Good dog," Hipster smirked. "Shut the Hades up," Percy snapped back. He turned his attention to the one who had started the chaos in the first place. "I dropped it. Put the thing down," he demanded, taking a small step to stand next to Annabeth. The lady didn't like that.

"Don't take another step, or I'll shoot," she instructed, waving the gun to illustrate her point.

"May, hold on," Hipster said. "I still want to know where the sword came from, and why you and Mack see a pole. And Hades? I'm completely lost."

"That's not important right now-" she growled in response. May growled in response.

"We were ordered to detain you on accounts of evidence that you are responsible for several bombings and suspicious activity of the terroristic nature," May stated with little patience.

The Hades? What else was going to happen today? Annabeth wouldn't be surprised if the sky opened up and started raining down blue cookies at this point (At least Percy wouldn't mind) . "Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "We're not terrorists! We're-" she sputtered in disbelief. "I'm 18!"

She barely had time to argue with them before the man- Mack, that's what the dark clothed girl had called him- turned to the rest of them. "Coulson said we have to wrap this up soon. Like, now."

"We all heard the coms, Mack," Hippy called out. "So seriously, guys. Hands up, follow us, maybe we'll drive by McDonald's again for some more fries."

"That's where I saw you!" Annabeth exclaimed suddenly at the revelation, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You were there!"

"Yeah, awesome, I know. But let's go."

"Thanks for the invitation, but I think we're going to have to pass," Percy quipped. Annabeth slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered. She had an idea. "No. Okay, yes. We'll go."

"Annabeth-" Percy complained. "Hands up, Seaweed Brain," she nodded forcefully, putting hers up as an example. "Now!" she nudged him when he hesitated.

"What are we doing?" he hissed as the three cautiously approached them, still brandishing the silver pistols. "Aim for their wrists," she whispered back forcibly. A look of understanding flashed across his face and he went back to his rigid stature.

Three against one. Unarmed against three hand guns.

Demigods against mortals.

Percy Jackson and beach vs. pistols.

Seems about right.

Annabeth watched patiently as the three took positions behind and to either side of them. Her heart was racing as she prepared herself for what she was about to do.

She shut the rational part of her brain down to spin around and swipe May off of her feet, sending her gun spiraling into the sand. The other two surged forward, but luckily Percy was quick to follow Annabeth's example. In a quick motion, he shoved Laser Tag toward Annabeth before slamming his fist into the man's chest. Her heart clenched when she heard him cry out in pain; she would've looked to see why, but she was too busy with the monster in front of her.

She didn't have many options. The May lady was already back on her feet and searching for her gun in the low light, and the girl in front of her was well-trained... possibly better than Annabeth herself (which was saying a lot, considering Annabeth's experience and fatal flaw). Her warm-up moves, which typically sent some of the best demigods running, were child's play against her. The blonde was glad that she had been keeping up with her skills over the past few years.

Somehow, someway, a few well-placed punches and obscure remarks had Annabeth and Percy in a mad sprint to the water. 30 feet. 20 feet. 10 feet.

"This isn't... this isn't a good plan," Percy shouted to her over the wind. He slowed down when he could feel the sand become squishy between his toes. He glanced over the water. "I can't do this. Not with.... shit... not with mortals. Not with the one that can see through the mist, I-"

His voice was strained with pain. Annabeth's gray eyes searched his before scanning him from head to toe. Her eyes rested on his right hand, which he was holding tightly against his chest. "What did you do?!?" she demanded,

"He was wearing body armor," Percy groaned. "Probably broke it. It's fine. Don't worry about it. We have bigger problems, unless you forgot about... oh look, there they are! Hey guys, is there a reason you haven't shot us yet? We moved and put our hands down," he yelled over at the approaching team with a mocking smile on his face.

Annabeth really, really wished he hadn't said that. Because the last thing she needed was the sound of gunfire in her ears.

Shock washed over Percy's face as May pulled the trigger and a bullet ripped into his left breast; right above where his heart would be. He staggered back, his emerald eyes wide with regret.

"Percy!" Annabeth shrieked when he fell backwards. Her curly hair bounced in the night wind as she fell down next to him, searching desperately for the wound so she could apply pressure. Her fingers shook as she ripped open the buttons on his shirt; in the dark she couldn't see any blood contrasting against his olive complexion; just a web of glowing blue sprouting from where he had been hit.

Poison.

"Percy?' Annabeth shook him violently; his head just lolled to the side; he was definitely unconscious. Whether or not he was alive was a different question altogether.

"Wake the fuck up, now, Seaweed Brain," she demanded. She slapped his cheek, but he refused to stir. The stubborn jerk. Tears welled in her eyes. She struggled to drag him to the water before whipping her head around to glare at the trigger happy Asian with a hatred stronger than she had for Arachne. "What did you do," she whispered.

"What the hell did you DO?!?" she screamed

Chapter Text

Agent May stiffly holstered her gun. The girl was still screaming hysterically at her from the now unconscious boyfriend. She smirked at the girl's rather vivid vocabulary.

"Hey, kid," Mack said as he creeped toward her cautiously. May grunted as he lowered his gun, rolling her eyes as she brought hers back out into the moonlight to cover him. Chase was obviously upset and more than likely had her own weapon, pole or sword. You should never underestimate the target; Mack was too soft at times for this kind of work. Nether the less, it made her shut up.

May was frustrated with the entire situation. They had spent enough time already trying to capture two teenagers- teenagers. What they should've done was just iced the both of them from the start. Less danger for both of them and less time messing around. She was still lost at why Chase decided to drag him into the water- was she trying to drown him?

"If he dies you're going to regret ever coming here," Annabeth stood slowly, her grey eyes gleaming like silver in the cold moonlight as she glared daggers at her, breaking her out of her thoughts. May barely had time to complete her eye roll when the girl's unnerving eyes flicked over to Mack accusingly.

"Kid, he's not going to die; come with us and we promise everything will be fine." He attempted to soothe her.

The teen stared blankly at him before pointing down at the body lying in the sand. "Your friend here just shot him with some kind of poison. The fuck do you mean he's not going to die? Who the fuck are you, even?"

Attempted. Attempted to soothe.

"Kid-" he tried again.

"Don't call me 'kid'." Annabeth seethed, eyes flashing.

"Feisty," Daisy mumbled from besides May before Mack spoke again. Agent May kept her gun trained on the suspect, who she was beginning to doubt more and more despite Fitz and Daisy's research. Sure, the mystery weapon whatever was weird, but surely these two kids couldn't be terrorists. They clearly didn't have the composure for it.

Then again, aliens don't exist and resurrection is impossible.

Mack sighed and took another step toward her, his hands gently placed in front of him. "It's not poison. It's a tranquilizer; dendrotoxin. He'll be fine in a few hours, give or take. But we're going. Go with Agent May and Daisy up there. Now."

"Dendrotoxin doesn't glow blue. I'm not an idiot."

"Yeah, well, special tech," Mack retorted with little patience, reaching for Chase's arm. She jumped back quickly, her tanned face steely with anger and frustration. Mack was in front of her, May with the gun up high, and Daisy was on the ground near her. Annabeth looked back down at Percy. Her blonde curls bounced in the wind.

She looked back at the agents and raised her fist.

She wasn't going to leave Percy, and she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"I got it!" Daisy called out, excited to have a reason to use her powers in the field for once (despite Coulson's orders). Daisy sent a wave of quakes around Annabeth's feet. Sand flew up into a cloud of dust, creating a strange silhouette of the girl falling in the eerie lighting. Mack wasted no time surging forward and forcing her hands behind her back, clasping on the new pair of the practically indestructible handcuffs Fitz had just designed. He had barely gotten them on when she swung her hands up into his chin, releasing his grip. May almost winced at the click of his teeth that she heard. The girl scrambled backwards once again.

Chase didn't have the chance to get very far; Daisy intercepted her easily, with a few small-scale earthquakes to assist her, of course. The girl could fight, though. Even with her arms strapped behind her back, the girl swung wildly with her legs, nailing Daisy a few times in the ribs impressively. May took a few seconds to observe her trainee finally use some of the new tricks she had taught her over the past few months. She smiled slightly and bobbed her head when the girl was knocked to the ground. Daisy pushed Chase's face into the sand and pinned her legs down with her knee.

"Listen," Daisy hissed into Annabeth's ear. She brushed a strand of her dark brunette hair behind her ear before continuing. "May won't hesitate to shoot you too. So unless you want to wake up feeling like you've been pumped full of lead, which is not a great feeling, then stop fighting us. Don't make it worse for yourself or your boyfriend over there."

May watched the scene with curiosity. Annabeth hesitated before allowing Daisy to pull her up.

"How'd you do the earthquake thing," she finally asked calmly with a sudden calmness, searching Daisy up and down as May hurried to cover her.

"I'm part alien," Daisy said smoothly. "Mack, need any help?"

"Just because I don't have super human powers doesn't mean you're any stronger than me, Tremors."

Annabeth twisted around to watch Mack throw a dripping wet Percy over his shoulder with ease, clenching her jaw. He was gentle with him, which still did little to comfort her. She still had no idea who these people were, especially now that hippy girl seemed to have some sort of powers. She tried to wrap her mind about the earthquake: Poseidon, earth shaker? By part alien, did she mean god? If so, they'd have a lot more issues than just being poisoned and abducted.

Not to mention Percy would be seriously peeved off.

Nethertheless, Annabeth saw no other option than to go with the people; resisting and being shot herself wouldn't do her or Percy any good. At least she'd be able to see what was going on, figure out where they were going.

"Who are you?" she growled as the woman that shot Percy prodded her in the back with the gun to move forward. No one answered as they started to make their way back to the parking lot.

"How do you know who we are?" she tried again.

"Look," Earthquake-alien-demigod? girl snapped in her ear. Annabeth grinded her teeth together as she hissed the words. "We'll interrogate you, not the other way around. Now shut up? Please?"

The curly blonde could practically feel her blood pressure rising. Her blood boiled beneath her skin to the point she was uncomfortable. Suddenly everything became irritating. The grip of the shooter on her wrists. The way her jaw was beginning to hurt. The way her hair was falling out of its ponytail and itching the back of her neck. The way the alien lady walked like she owned the world. The big, dark man pretended to act like he cared- the way they were being dam kidnapped. The way the sand crunched beneath her feet and worked it's way slowly into her toenails and that their simple date turned to hell. The way Percy's hand was still curled unusually, probably in pain. The way his shirt hung off his body, still unbuttoned, how he looked limp and dead. The way she could barely see in the terrible lighting.

The way her whole world hated the idea of happiness as a whole.

After ten minutes of walking as a prisoner back to the parking lot and listening to the annoying banter between Mack and Daisy, the group finally stopped in front of a large black van sitting in the far corner of the parking lot. A memory of seeing the same vehicle in the McDonald's parking lot hit Annabeth like a train.

Gods, how did this happen?

Annabeth eyed Percy's new car, abandoned. They couldn't leave it. That car was brand new, to Percy at least, and a huge investment from Paul and Sally. Percy would be... wait. Suddenly, she was forcing down a grin. She had a plan, and a good one at that.

"It's about bloody time," a voice broke her train of thought as the doors of the van swung open, which was disappointing, considering it was mainly praise for herself.

"Just help get them secured," the lady known as May growled behind her. That woman had some serious personality problems.

There were three people in the van with them. An average sized, arrogant looking man was eyeing her from a seat next to a younger looking man with curly hair that kind of reminded her of Tim, one of her half-brothers. Just by looking at him you could tell he was highly intelligent, but he was too shy to share any of his incredible ideas. The third was a pair of blue eyes staring at her through the rear view mirror. Annabeth would've taken more time to look around if she hadn't had been yanked down onto a bench seat that lined the side wall. Asian lady must have taken pleasure in making Annabeth as uncomfortable as possible in the way she looped the handcuffs under the seat, behind her.

As if she needed another reason to hate "May."

Annabeth must have mistaken the curly-haired man's shyness, as he was the first to speak up. Annabeth scanned his face as he stared at Mack sullenly, who was gently positioning Percy in the seat across from her. A wave of anger surged in her chest when she watched his head loll to the side, and also confusion when she noticed that the blue spider webs that once laced out from the central wound had now disappeared.

"You used the I.C.E.R.?" he drawled in a monotone, Scottish accent. He wrung his hands back and forth hyperactively.

Mack seated himself next to her unconscious boyfriend. "May did."

"Why?"

"He was being a brat," May offered as she pushed past him towards the passenger seat.

"Maybe because you were abducting him?" Annabeth muttered furiously. Obviously not low enough for no one to hear, because now she had everyone's attention.

Arrogance smirked and raised his eyebrows in respect. "Feisty. I like it."

Annabeth figured it was a good time to practice her death stare. He just laughed. "I'm Hunter, by the way."

"I don't give a fuck," she spat.

Hunter shrugged, unfazed by her comment.

Annabeth prickled at his words, slamming her cuffs against the metal beam below her in frustration. "Who are you people? What do you want with us?"

Again, Hunter laughed. "I already told you my name! And didn't May tell you? Drop the whole innocence act, mate. We know you're both bombers. Terrorists. The bad guys. Which makes us the good guys."

Annabeth wasn't sure it was possible for her to get angrier at this point, but lo and behold, this man had a way of pushing all the right buttons even more than Percy could.

And, also, what the hell? Bombers? Terrorists? And don't even get her started on "bad guys." This had to be a joke, right? If these people were serious, then there was no other rational guess. They're the government, in some way, shape, or form. Not a monster they knew. Not a rebel god. Shist, not even mother earth herself trying to claim her rule over every living thing.

Ohhh no. An entirely different monster altogether. A monster that they had no control over. It didn't matter if she was smart and Percy was the most powerful demigod under the sun.

Schist.

Chapter Text

Annabeth was getting to the point that she wished she had gotten shot with the glowing blue poison.

"What's your mother's name?" Mack asked for the third time in a row. It was the mark of the nearly half an hour anniversary of their lovely interrogation session, with no cake or gifts in sight.

Bummer.

"Kid, come on-" he sighed when she refused to answer.

"Don't call me kid," Annabeth interjected, resisting the urge to spit in the man's face. She was struggling to keep calm, and it didn't help that she was forced to look at Percy's unconscious form the entire time. Unwanted memories kept trying to invade her mind, and it took nearly all of her energy to prevent a flashback. His head lulled with every pothole, every vibration in the van. She resisted the urge to tell them to hold his head steady- he couldn't afford a new concussion with his past- but didn't want to provide any information that wasn't necessary.

"Just answer the question. One more and I'll leave you alone."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. Sure. "You'll let us go?"

"Look, I'm the nice guy around here. If I were you, I'd avoid interrogations from May or Agent Morse. Make it easier for yourself and answer me, now. Please." Mack stood up from where he was kneeling on the floor of the cargo van, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone. Annabeth rolled her eyes.

"What if I told you my mom was a Greek goddess?" she said, testing the waters in an attempt to prove her theory of government officials, especially after Mack referred to Percy's shooter as Agent. She was really hoping for something along the lines of "Duh, it's Athena." That'd mean that she would have a chance at fighting them off. Instead, her heart sank as her interrogator sighed disappointedly and sat near the doors.

Out of all the crazy things that had happened to her and Percy, she never would have guessed that one day they'd be suspected terrorists of the government. What fun, eventful lives they had (note the sarcasm). This had to be Percy's fault.

There was a whistle. "I'm impressed, mate." Annabeth whipped her head to a nodding Hunter, who, indeed, looked impressed. "It's hard to get Mack riled up, but congrats, you did. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but hey," he ended with a shrug.

Annabeth didn't have a chance to reply. The van quickly lurched to a stop after hitting what must have been a speed bump. The momentum sent her flying sideways off the seat. She bit her lip in an effort to keep from crying out in pain; the cuffs around her wrist tugged and rubbed her skin painfully. She might have imagined it, but they seemed to emit some kind of sharp heat whenever she tried to wiggle out of them. She was sure her wrists would be a beautiful shade of red if she ever got them off.

She wasn't the only one annoyed with the quick stop. "Jeez, Bobbi," Hunter whined as he peeled himself off of the floor. "A little warning next time? Bloody hell..." Annabeth rolled her eyes as he began to mutter incoherently to himself, worriedly turning her gaze to Percy's still unconscious form. Luckily he'd been buckled in. The abrupt braking didn't seem like it had affected him.

Mack stood up from where Percy was to stand in front of Annabeth. "If I take the handcuffs off, will you try to kill me?"

"No."

"Be honest."

"I wouldn't tell a lie."

"You just did."

"Maybe."

"This conversation is pointless," he sighed before proceeding to release her hands from the warm metal. She involuntarily released a breath as her shoulders were relieved from the pressure before pulling them out to inspect them. Indeed, they were red. Blistered in some places, even. She hadn't imagined the heat after all, she guessed.

The back doors of the van swung open. Mack led her out by the arm, and her jaw threatened to hit the floor. They had driven into the cargo hold of some sort of military grade plane. In front of her was a dark garage, and a car hid under a tarp to her right. A silver bumper peaked out from under the tarp, along with a little firetruck red.

"That's Lola," a voice said from the shadows. Annabeth hadn't even realized she'd been staring at the car until a man who looked around forty walked out from the garage she'd been looking at earlier. Annabeth narrowed her eyes as the average, seemingly hard worn man approached her. He surveyed her from head to toe before nodding at Mack behind her. Cautiously, he released the grip he was holding on her arm and walked back to the van.

"Do you know who I am?" the man finally spoke. Annabeth clenched her jaw and shook her head. How the hell would she know him? They really thought they were terrorists, didn't they?

"I'm Director Coulson, of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division. "

Annabeth stared at him blankly. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?" From behind, she heard someone break up into laughter. A hand clapped her shoulder, which she quickly shook off with a vicious "Don't touch me."

A wave of anxiety washed over Annabeth. She had almost forgotten; the smirk faded off her face. "You can't take him on an airplane."

The Director looked taken aback. "Excuse me?" he asked with a raised brow, as if he couldn't believe that she'd contradicted him.

Annabeth struggled for a decent reason. "He's terrified of flying."

"Well, I'm terrified of May and I'm still living, so I'm sure he'll be fine. " He paused and focused at something behind her. "Mack, get him to the pod?"

Annabeth scowled as she watched the agent carry her boyfriend out of the room, still lifeless. Anxiety coursed through her veins as Mack, along with a defenseless Percy, slowly disappeared into the darkness.

"What'd you shoot him with? Who are you? Where are we?" she demanded suddenly, her fury returning at once. She had somehow maintained a steady voice as she spoke. "You can't just- you can't just take us off of the street. We're seventeen. We're minors. Even if we weren't, I know our rights- this is illegal, and inhumane."

Coulson scanned the girl once more, doubt creeping into his mind. They were young. He had proof that this girl had accompanied the boy along with his endeavors... but how could they be this involved with these terroristic plots without any knowledge of the government, or, at least, knowledge of I.C.E.R.S. and similar technology? Sure, it was classified SH.I.E.L.D. intelligence, but Hydra and CyberTech had already begun processing their own models.

Of course, there was always the chance she was lying. He'd have to put them under the detector eventually.

"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. We protect those who can't protect themselves." He stated with little enthusiasm as a guilty itch began at the base of his neck.

Of course, the itch could have been his tie too. He had no reason to feel guilty. Perseus Jackson and Annabeth Chase had been seen at multiple accounts of bombings of major landmarks, plus a few elaborate news stories. And the sword/pole/weapon May and Daisy had informed them about during their first meeting with the subject? That didn't sound suspicious at all

Note the sarcasm.

Coulson took care to stay expressionless. He watched as the blonde swallowed hard, obviously holding back a bitter comment. "Mr. Jackson was shot with den- din...- Fitz, what-"

"Dendrotoxin," he mumbled before he had a chance to fully word his question. Coulson gave him a once over; his arms were crossed over his chest, and he seemed very morally conflicted about the situation. Coulson sighed before returning to the girl in front of him. Her face showed that she was no longer interested in conversing with them.

Seeing that everyone had dispersed but Daisy and Bobbi, Coulson ushered the girl to get moving. "We're not terrorists," the girl suddenly snapped. Her tone wasn't angry or frustrated: it was pleading.

"We'll talk about it soon enough, but for now, follow me," Coulson instructed. He began heading towards the garage before he realized that Chase refused to move. He shot Agent Morse a look, and soon enough he was being followed. Chase wasn't happy about it, but she was smart enough not to challenge the 5' 11" highly trained agent behind her.

Agent Morse could be very encouraging.

Annabeth silently surveyed the obviously high tech bus as Bobbi pushed her along in a game of follow the leader. They passed through the garage she had seen earlier, which was filled with tools and knick knacks, some of which looked unfamiliar. A long hallway lead this past a room of monitors and finally to an enclosed box that sat unnaturally in the middle of the space. Her eyes burned. Everything in the room was white: the walls, the floor, the bed, the couch, the sink... these people really wanted to get their dystopian government theme across. She was halfway expecting a woman wearing a white dress and a short, sleek bob to walk stiffly out with a clipboard, conniving smile and all.

It was a prison, basically. And she had just been locked in.

The Daisy girl followed her in, along with her ever so kind escort. A heavy hydraulic doors lid shut, leaving them to slowly suffocate in the brightness of the cage. Daisy led herself over to the - surprise! - white table and swung into the - surprise! white - chair. She had traded her black t-shirt for a gray one, Annabeth noted.

"Sit," she insisted with a wave of her hand. Annabeth considered standing her ground before she realized she needed as much information out of them that they wanted from her.

She sat.

Daisy glanced back at Agent Morse before beginning. She slowly looked up into the girl's unnerving grey eyes, which swirled thoughtfully. She wondered what she was thinking about. Her next mission? The consequences of being compromised? A plan to escape? Her boyfriend, who she was convinced was dying from some sort of poison despite their numerous attempts to prove it otherwise? Whatever the case, this young woman certainly knew how to stare down the enemy.

Enemy being, them.

"Agent MacKenzie already confirmed the following, correct me if I'm wrong You're Annabeth Chase, 17 years old. You reside in Manhattan, New York and attend Payton High School as a senior-"

"When school starts in the fall, yes."

Daisy narrowed her eyes. She shut the file as another question jumped into her mind. "So where do you go now?"

Annabeth looked confused. "...I don't go to school in the summer...?"

"Then why do you disappear every summer, all year in some cases?"

Annabeth sighed heavily. Which excuse would work best for this situation? Better yet, what excuse would Percy make when they inevitably interrogated him? It wasn't like she could tell them how there was a difference between literally disappearing and going off grid. They probably wouldn't fare too well with the existence of her Yankees cap, not to mention a camp full of the kids of Greek gods.

Although, the woman in front of her wasn't mortal... was she a demigod, or goddess in disguise?

Annabeth decided to be safe. "I don't disappear. I work for the Delphi Strawberries place on Long Island. My uncle owns it, so I lived with him before high school started."

"Do you have proof of that?"

"You can call him." Annabeth shrugged, desperately hoping she would take the bait. If they called Chiron asking about her, he'd definitely know something was up. That'd surely speed up her plan, at least.

Her bubble of faith exploded when she heard the tall red head chuckle behind her. "That's funny. It's smart though, I'll give you credit for that. But, uh..." she leaned forward, "We've been to more than one rodeo."

Annabeth shrugged, hiding her fury that her plan didn't work. She didn't appreciate others thinking they were better than her, or better than her plans at least.

"Do you have any proof?" Daisy asked again.

"You could ask Percy, he'll back it up." Annabeth resisted the urge to wince as she said the words. She knew Percy was smart, but the chance that he would match her story exactly was slim. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Daisy narrowed her eyes before opening her mouth to speak again. "Speaking of Percy... I have a few questions for you about him. Why-" A voice in her ear cut her off.

"What?" She exclaimed, throwing her hand up to push the com into her ear. It took her just a second to realize what was being said. She dropped her hand back to the desk before pushing away. Annabeth shot Daisy a puzzled look as she stood; Annabeth turned to watch her walk towards the door, which Bobbi was holding open. She shook her head slightly.

"Speak of the devil," she smirked before closing the door behind her, leaving Annabeth alone in the stark white room.

Chapter Text

If Agent Morse had been told to imagine chaos, then this would fit the bill.

Yelling. Metal clanging all over the place, not to mention flailing limbs. An unconscious Fitz in the corner. So much water, soaking everything.

Yeah, it was pretty much a mess. She wished that she hadn't walked in five minutes prior. Five minutes prior could be simplified to staring at the unconscious form of the admittedly attractive young suspect.

"Okay, so what's going on?" she sighed as she pushed open the doors to the downsized lab. Mack had placed the tanned, dark haired boy down on the metal operating table in the corner of the room. Coulson and Fitz leaned against the countertop, staring intently at the young man while the buff agent stood above him, with arms crossed. She opened her mouth to reiterate the question after seconds of silence, but quick-witted Daisy beat her to it.

"You guys said he was conscious," Daisy raised an eyebrow, glancing from the obviously unmoving captive to Coulson. He didn't blink. "This doesn't look conscious."

"He was... at least, twenty seconds ago he was."

"How so?" Bobbi pushed, skeptical. Once again, the group was at a loss for explanation- mainly because their attention was pulled away by the sudden cry that worked its way out of the raven-headed teen. Silence settled over the agents as they watched Jackson's face twist in tone of fear. His breaths quickly increased; he was hyperventilating. The agents looked amongst each other in confusion. His fingers twitched, and suddenly, he sat up abruptly, the movement a stark contrast to the peaceful sleep seconds before. Sea green eyes sprung open, wild with anxiety.

They darted about, glazed and unfocused. His chest heaved as what seemed to be panic engulfed him. Bobbi's heart caught in her throat.

"Hey, hey," Mack reached out a hand, gently pressing a hand against Jackson's bare shoulder. The contact triggered something within him, and before anyone could react, the buff mechanic was sent flying into the counters behind him, sending various tools crashing to the ground. Daisy and Bobbi rushed forward to secure their subject, but they were interrupted when the teen's eyes slammed shut and a sudden roar of water filled their ears. The sink. The sink had exploded. Coulson cursed as a rainstorm beat down on them. "What the hell?!?" he shouted. Jackson scrambled backwards off of the metal, his bare feet landing haphazardly on the floor. Fitz went to grab him from behind, but with incredible speed, the teen spun around and socked him just along his cheekbone. Bobbi's anger spiked at the sound of Fitz's yelp before he crumpled to the ground.

"Jackson, stand down!" Coulson demanded. Bobbi launched herself at the boy, but couldn't land a decent punch. His reflexes were inhumanly fast, and there certainly wasn't enough room to try for a kick.

And the stupid water. It was at if it was working for the boy, finding ways to spray directly into her eyes and mouth. A spray like that of a firehose shot into her eyes, pushing her to the ground and momentarily blinding her. As she struggled to regain her sight, Bobbi hopelessly heard the door swing open, followed by the shouts of both Coulson and Daisy.

"The hell," she growled, her eyes burning.

"You okay?"

Bobbi cursed and looked up at Mack, standing up without the help of his hand. "Today is not the day I lose a battle to a seventeen year old boy," she spat, the water that continued to burst out of the sinks annoying her to no extent. How much water was on this damn plane was there, anyway? Certainly enough to flood the room three inches in fifteen seconds. Can water even pump that fast?

"How the hell is he even awake, the I.C.E.R. should have subdued him for at least three hours?!!" Morse demanded bitterly, stepping into the garage. She glanced back at Mack, who shrugged. "We told you he was conscious."

"Not this conscious!"

"Just go," Mack said gruffly. "I've got Fitz."

....

Bobbi marched through the narrow hallways of the Globemaster, doing what she usually did: look for trouble. She could hear the commotion of running and a string of demands from Coulson from the upper deck. With long strides, Agent Morse quickly reached the steps and climbed them two at a time.

"Bloody hell!" a surprised shout that sounded suspiciously British echoed down the corridor. Hunter was part of the chase now too, it seemed.

The tall agent's fingers itched for her steel batons as she crept down the narrow way. If only they weren't tucked behind her sweatshirt in her locker. She peaked out from behind the wall, where the hallway opened to reveal the crews' quarters. It was as if a tornado had set down within the cabin; the couches were in disarray, the Battleship game she and Daisy had been playing earlier was strung across the room, the mini-fridge toppled and it's contents soaking... soaking, well, everything. Was it typical for water to be raining from the ceiling? It was now more than obvious that this kid wasn't just human, if human at all.

"If you're looking for the kid, he went that way," a disgruntled voice brought her out of her thoughts. With a sigh, Agent Morse shook her head at the mess. "This is why we can't have anything nice." She glanced down to see Hunter peeling himself off of the wet carpet, soaked from head to toe. Blood ran down his arm from a gash near his elbow, and she winced as he pulled a small piece of glass out of it, tossing it carelessly to the side. She opened her mouth to comment when a loud crash sounded ahead of them. Her blood chilled as a terrifyingly furious plea filled her ears. "Get away from me!"

Bobbi ran ahead, forgetting Hunter and her questions for the time being. There was little need to go far. Coulson and Daisy had Jackson trapped against the back of the claustrophobic galley, who had somehow managed to stay dry. His wide eyes flashed like a cornered animal, which, frankly, at this point he was.

Every time they would make an attempt to move closer, their loose captive would lash out, his attacks packed with power. Daisy groaned as he nailed her in the shoulder, throwing her back into Bobbi's chest. "Stand down!" demanded Coulson, who had drawn his gun. Bobbi wasn't even sure if he had the safety off, but the threat of a gun barrel in your face was persuasive enough. Or so she had thought.

If she had blinked, she would have missed it. She hadn't believed Daisy fully when she claimed that he pulled a magic sword out of thin air during their initial encounter. She owed Daisy a thorough apology.

All three of them jumped back into Hunter, who had finally caught up, when the teen summoned a long, Greek style, glowing bronze sword out of nowhere. "What the hell?" Daisy demanded. "We took that thing away from you! Where-? How?" she sputtered.

Coulson seemed most uneasy about the blade that had appeared out of nothingness, which wasn't surprising, considering his history. His voice dropped. "Drop the weapon. Now."

The boy's face scrunched up in distaste. "Where's Annabeth?" he nearly whispered, as if just realizing she was missing. He stood there, panting and sweating as though he had just run a marathon, his naked chest heaving. A variety of white scars or a variety of lengths and widths crisscrossed over his sides like spiderwebs. Hunter stepped forward, just in range of the long sword. The teen seemed to tower over him, despite the fact that he only had about three inches on him.

"Hold up, Westley, we're asking the questions. Now drop the magic wand, sit like a-"

"WHERE'S ANNABETH?" the teen boomed, silencing everyone. Hot tears sprung in Percy's eyes unintentionally; the stress was too much. In his eyes, everything was dark. The air choked him; he couldn't breathe. Why was the ground so warm and sticky? Why did the monsters keep coming? His head and wrist hurt like Hades. He needed to ignore the pain, fight. Get past these three-four, now, four monsters... Find Annabeth. Assess injury and keep going. Just keep going. If you're going through hell, keep going, he murmured under his breath, remembering the quote from a random TV promo during a late night with Annabeth.

His brain barely registered the words being thrown at him, to drop Riptide, to surrender. Never.

With a quick breath, Percy attempted to dive out of the crowd, to get past. One of them grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but he quickly retaliated with a swing of his sword. The grip didn't release, but shouting soon filled the corridor. He struggled to escape, swinging Riptide wildly before whatever had grabbed him finally lost the nerve. He sprinted back down through the darkness, not quite sure where he was going. He just ran. Footsteps echoed behind him before a loud pop filled the air. And then pain. A numbing pain, right below his knee...

Instantly, all sense of adrenaline drained of his system. Unwillingly he collapsed onto the solid floor, groaning. Suddenly lights were everywhere. So bright. HIs eyelids grew heavier until he couldn't take it anymore, allowing them to slide shut.

...

Annabeth cursed as yet another Iris message attempt fell through. Never mind that she didn't have any drachmas on her- did Iris take credit? The artificial light in the stupid white hexagon room was driving her insane with its inability to create a rainbow. She would try again, but the sink had stopped working. Either they had shut the plumbing off to their little mini-prison or Percy had blown the pipes out. Percy. Where the Hades was he?

She hated that they didn't let her go with him, wherever he was. Annabeth wasn't even sure he was okay. Panic crept up her throat- she felt like throwing up.

She paced the room impatiently, using the time to think. If her plan worked, what would be the next step? Could she really trust that it would even work? There were a lot of moving parts, and even if it went smoothly, she'd have to hope and pray that her friends could find them, wherever they were. The agents wouldn't be that difficult to escape from- heck, Percy could probably take them half awake if he wanted to. She saw him defeat hordes of monsters thousands of times. A couple of kidnapping, self-absorbed government agents wouldn't be that much of a problem, as long as they get the guns away first.

Weapons. That would probably be a good thing to take inventory of. Her dagger- well, no. Her dagger was wrapped up in a sandy towel on the beach. Percy would still have Riptide, although it was useless against mortals.

Which lead her to her next question. Who was laser/Daisy/earthquake girl? Those vibrations were definitely not a coincidence. She had to be at least 25, which made no sense, considering the dreaded prophecy all those years ago. But if she wasn't a demigod, what was she? Some kind of monster? Confusion raced through her head, which spun rapidly.

A sharp pain through her skull resulted in a wince. Reluctantly, Annabeth backed up and plopped down onto the bed, rubbing her temples. The stress was getting to her, and the unique yet disturbingly familiar situation was doing nothing to calm her nerves. Percy missing, injured. A plan that sounded crazier with each passing second. On her own, defenseless. Enemies with no motive, just a desire to torture them the best they could.

Her skin crawled and her entire body shook, as though lightning had struck her, as memories of Tartarus flooded back.

"No, no," she muttered to herself, holding her aching head in her hands. She grabbed a handful of the white comforter in an attempt to prove to herself that she wasn't back there.

But it kept replaying. Over, and over, and over.

Annabeth blinked her eyes open, which already seemed to be glued shut. Her eyelids slowly peeled apart with no reward. The darkness that awaited her provided no assurance of her location, or even where they had fallen from.

The fall. Part of her was glad that the wait was over. The rest of her ached like she couldn't believe, and the throbbing pain in her ankle was a constant reminder of her injured ankle. Luckily, she still had the ambrosia in her pocket. After a quick pledge of survival to herself, Annabeth slowly brought herself to a sitting position, sucking in a breath and hissing at the pain. The acrid air burned the back of her throat like bile. Annabeth coughed weakly, the dryness itching mercilessly. She better hope that she had some time to recover before monsters inevitably flooded around her, or she would be toast. At least her vision had adjusted to the darkness; she could slightly make out the definition of jagged rocks, shards of glass from a broken reality. She had yet to find the source of the constant moaning noises that seemed to come from every direction. Did Percy still have-

Percy. Percy, where was he?

A wave of worry crashed into her, remembering the slow moments before the air cushion that must have knocked both of them out. She had fought him as hard as she could, but he was too strong... he had positioned himself under Annabeth, to take the brute of the force.

That Seaweed Brain.

She glanced down at the ambrosia between her fingers, inches away from her mouth. She should save it; at the same time, wandering around injured wasn't going to do her any good, for her or Percy. Before she could change her mind, Annabeth tossed the sweet square into her mouth, adrenaline soaring through her.

Nothing like a missing boyfriend to wake you up in the middle of Tartarus. Annabeth heaved herself to her feet, despite the screaming pain. "Well, I'm up... now what?" she muttered to herself, spinning slowly. She had no clue which way she should go.

Until she saw a suspicious lump ahead of her, almost but not quite blending in with the shadows.

Sure enough, a few seconds of pained limping later, Annabeth was kneeling next to her boyfriend. Relief ran through her as she watched his chest rise and fall. "Percy?" she whispered.

No response.

The grey-eyed demigod jolted back to reality. The transition from the dark cavern to white cage sent a shiver of shock through her now trembling body. Burning tears streamed down her cheeks. Loud, thoroughly annoyed voices jumped through the opening gap in the cell, a sharp contrast to the anxious whisper that she was forced to relive.

"Throw him in there, somewhere. I don't care. Just leave him and get out," Coulson said bitterly. Annabeth scrambled to her feet with wide eyes. The large, black agent marched in with Percy in his arms, still unconscious. They had gotten him a new shirt, a black one made out of the tight fitting thermal material, as well as a pair of sweats. Agent Mackenzie made eye contact after her inspection before glancing at the bed.

"I'm going to put him on the bed. Move, please."

She obliged, taking a few steps back from the now disheveled bed. Her mind raced. Was he supposed to be unconscious still? How long did they say? 4 hours or so? Had it even been that long yet? It had to have been.

"When will he wake up?" she demanded, a permanent scowl etched on her face. The 'Director' took no time to respond. "In theory three or four more hours," he spat.

"In theory?"

"Tell your friend I don't take well to people attacking my agents. That's not going to be much help to you in the long run," the man finished before clenching his jaw.

Annabeth wasn't expecting that.

Before she could form the words to another question, the two men had already exited the room.

Gods. Annabeth stood frozen for a moment, processing their words. Did Percy injure one of them? That would only explain the man's fury.

He couldn't have, because then he would have woken up. Unless he did... and they just shot him again?

Oh gods. She may have to attack some agents too.

Finally escaping her head, Annabeth crawled up onto the bed. Mack had placed Percy as carefully as he could, back down with his head on the pillow. She was relieved to see that at least he looked relaxed, despite the swelling bruise along his jawline and curled fingers of his fractured hand (she assumed). His mouth hung open, and the blonde gave a small smile.

He was drooling.

Annabeth sighed and shifted down onto the mattress. She grabbed Percy's hand- the good one, and pulled it up to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and allowed herself to close her eyes, shutting out the analyzation of the situation.

Some things never changed... they went from angsty 12 year olds with lucky battles against gods to sailing the ocean to save Grover from marriage to Cyclops with bad hosting skills, holding up the sky, taking a trip through a rather large maze, saving the world (part one), getting separated, finding each other again, conquering Tartarus, and saving the world (part two). All of this, yet...

Percy still drooled when he slept.

Chapter Text

It was uncomfortably bright when Percy woke up.

He was used to the soft light of his cabin when he woke up; even his small room at home had curtains to block the direct sun. His mom had changed them from blackout curtains after Tartarus- those were too dark. The new fabric, blue and waved like the ocean, filtered the light just enough to help him sleep in. To do so consistently was one of his top 5 life goals, next to marrying Annabeth and keeping his participation in any new great prophecies down to zero.

Unfortunately, the nightmares made that goal increasingly difficult.

They annoyed him to no extent, especially in that the worse ones panicked him enough to act more irrationally than normal. The pained looks of his friends when he came to, looks of worry and fear, embarrassed him to no extent. What kind of leader was he supposed to be? One who can't even keep his mind straight? He realized that it was still only about a year after what had happened, but it was sickening that Chiron didn't trust him to participate in Capture the Flag after he was left a mess after a camper had startled him from behind. It took Annabeth nearly half an hour to calm him down.

She had cried.

He had made her cry.

He blinked his eyes groggily, partly to discredit the memory and partly to avoid the artificial white light boring into his eyes; they did little to help the migraine he currently had. Eventually his eyes adjusted and he glanced around. His stomach jumped when he realized he had no idea where he was. The white fluffy walls and furniture were alien and frankly, quite creepy.

He sat up quickly, hissing at a sudden burst of pain in his hand; he held it against his chest and allowed the memories to come back to him. His body seemed heavy, and his thoughts processed slowly.

The attackers. The fight. The gun.

The gun. He glanced down at his chest and pulled up the fitted shirt shakily with his good hand; his eyebrows furrowed at the lack of dressing, unless the small square of gauze counted for anything. He touched it gingerly, wincing a little at the slight sting. It was definitely bruised, at the least.

"You're awake," a voice beside him said softly. Annabeth brought herself to a sitting position and pulled her knees to her chest, staring at his fingers, which were still on the small wound. He quickly tugged the black shirt back down over his scarred chest and frowned at her. "How long was I out?"

She shrugged. "There's no clock in here, I don't know. Maybe a few hours." She hesitated. "Are you okay?"

He flinched at her words but scoffed to cover it up. "Of course I am, I'm with you." He mockingly copied the annoyed look she sent him in response. "Jackson, I swear-"

"I'm good, I swear."

Her grey eyes narrowed at him. She glanced down at the hand he was cradling against his chest still and raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," he groaned, reaching it out to her. "Ouch, it hurts, help," he cried out.

"I'm trying to help, Seaweed Brain. Stop being so difficult."

"Sorry," he muttered. He leaned back down onto the bed, letting her play doctor. He tilted his head so he could watch her. She had pulled her golden curls back behind her, but a few still curled in her face, falling next to her eyes. Her tanned face was tight with concentration as she slowly turned his hand over; he was mesmerized. She was so beautiful. Her lips pursed, and he didn't have time to react before she pushed her thumbs under his knuckles- it was meant to be gentle, but

"Okay okay okay," he yelped, yanking his hand back. The pain made him nauseous, and he was almost afraid he was going to barf up the McDonald's he had eaten all over the white comforter.

Annabeth sat back and sighed. "I think it's safe to say you fractured your hand."

"Nah, it's just a sprain probably," he complained, shoving his head into the pillow.

"I hope that was sarcasm, because in case you haven't noticed, it's swelling like crazy. Put it up on some pillows."

She adjusted it for him before he had a chance to even move. The scene was too familiar. He took a breath before a memory slammed into him.
..

"Percy?" Annabeth whispered. He could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears. It was as though someone has hooked a dog whistle up to an amp and projected it into his face. He felt as though he had just been hit by a bus. His head hurt like Hades, he couldn't even feel his limbs, and his thoughts raced around in circles.

"Hi," he croaked as he slowly opened his eyes. The air smelled musky and sour, and the unmistakable scent of gasoline filled the air, like the room could burst into flames at any moment. It wouldn't be hard. It seemed that all the moisture had been sucked up by a power vacuum in the dry air. Despite the pain, he sent her a small smile. The worry in her face, barely visible in the low light, concerned him- did he look that bad?

He certainly FELT that bad, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Thank gods... are you okay?"

"Seaweed Brain!"

Percy jolted back to reality before squeezing his eyes shut. Annabeth shook his shoulders and demanded that he opened his eyes; she stared into them with a steady face. "Where are we, Percy?"

He looked down and felt his anxiety rise when he didn't in fact no where he was. Black flashed across his vision before Annabeth repeated herself.

"I- I don't know," he stuttered. Gods dammit, he sounded so weak!

"We're in a white fluffy cell on a S.H.I.E.L.D. airplane, okay?" she said.

"Why?" he asked bluntly. She laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Because we're terrorists? Heck if I know, Jackson. They were calling your name when they kidnapped us."

"They shot me," he remembered, gladly jumping on the new topic. It wasn't necessarily a better topic, but hey.

Annabeth's grey eyes narrowed at him as she rolled back onto her feet. "It's your fault. I thought you were dead as soon as they pulled the trigger, you ass."

"But I didn't die, so ha."

"You could've. You practically asked for it." Her voice was bitter, the tone of the conversation shifting from that of comforting to heated.

"Yes, because it had always been on my bucket list to get shot and die. Doesn't it sound fun?"

Annabeth didn't respond. She dropped her hands from him and turned away angrily. "What?" Percy demanded defensively. "I wasn't the one kidnapping people! How was I supposed to know they were so dam trigger happy, why are you mad at me?"

"You weren't the one thinking I lost you for the tenth time. It wasn't funny," Annabeth snapped.

Silence fell over them as the weight of Annabeth's words settled into them. Percy broke the glass first.

"I'm sorry."

He looked up at his girlfriend, who had turned her head away. She moved to face him at his words, her face red and eyes filled with tears. His heart broke. "Annabeth-"

"I was scared, you asshole" she exasperated, her voice cracking on her final word. "I didn't-"

He didn't respond, but pulled her to his chest, ignoring the ache that followed. He softened her hair before brushing the fallen tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry..." he whispered into her ear, feeling awful. He didn't deserve this girl. He was continuously hurting her, but for some reason she still loved him. Annabeth was the strongest girl he knew. If she cried, he had screwed up.

They sat there on the starch white bed for a while, just in silence. He held his arm around her as she nuzzled into the warmth of his chest. Tears of relief flowed easily, the stress of the situation just now being released. The weight of her head on the wound stung mercilessly, but he refused to move or let her know. The hum of the air conditioning was a relaxing, welcome white noise.

Minutes passed before they moved; whatever they had drugged him with left him laggy, and Percy had just about fallen back asleep when he felt his girlfriend stir next to him.

"Don't get shot again and I'll forgive you," she sat up, pecking him on the lips, as though she hadn't been crying a second ago. He pulled her back down and whispered an agreement before kissing her gently. The exhaustion disappeared as his lips moved against hers.

"Speaking of..." he mumbled against her lips in reference to being shot, "why am I not dead?"

She pulled back and sighed. "It was dendrotoxin."

"Den doe what?"

With that, she launched into an explanation of everything he had missed, including the people and interviews and apparent hatred he had already earned from the agents.

"Schist," he mumbled when she mentioned it. The harder he thought about it, the more he could remember the nightmare that he must have been conscious for. He pulled his leg up to his chest and pulled up the sweats; there was a small bandage where he remembered being hit; shot, again. He had completely freaked out on those people. He had thought they were monsters... he had been fucking stuck in his head again.

Annabeth's hand brushed the gauze. "What's that? What'd you do?"

"Who's clothes are these?" he asked the question as it popped in his head, not wanting to explain yet another nightmare. Annabeth got worked up over them, and it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Don't change the subject."

"What subject?" he asked innocently. The look on her face showed little patience.

"I woke up, had riptide, tried to find you and leave, " he lied. "Obviously I failed," he bristled. He glanced at her warily and was relieved to find that she bought it. "Well, it would've been nice if you hadn't," she admitted. "But I can take care of myself, Mr. Hero."

He eyed her jacket with a smirk. "Do you even have your dagger?"

"No," she responded with a disappointed sigh. "It's probably still on the beach with your towels and shirt." She shook her head. How could things have gone so wrong so fast?

Percy frowned. "That sucks. I really liked those shoes," he grumbled. Annabeth resisted the urge to face palm.

"Those things were like ten years old, they barely had soles on them. You've needed new ones for a year now."

"No, they fit and I could walk in them. That's all I need," he scowled, furrowing his eyebrows and pausing for a second. "And my mom bought me that shirt for Christmas last year."

Annabeth's eyes widened in incredulity. "Are you seriously complaining about losing your clothes right now? You're such a Seaweed Brain," she sighed, the last part mostly to herself.

He scoffed in response. "Yeah, I mean, I got us kidnapped because I decided it'd be a good idea to go to the beach today. When we should've just gone back to camp, just brought Leo his burger like I told him I would..."

She shook her head, her voice softening at the pained expression on his face. "Percy, it wasn't your fault." And it wasn't. If the government wanted to abduct them, they would eventually. It was only a matter of time; they could fight monsters, but they weren't trained criminals, like these S.H.I.E.L.D. people were suggesting.

Still, her boyfriend didn't buy it. His expression soured further as he lifted his head to squint at the lights overhead, raising his left hand to scrub it through his hair in frustration. "Annabeth, we were at the beach!" he exclaimed, gesturing frantically with his good hand. " One, I could've avoided this, and two, the ocean was like, right there. And I didn't do anything."

Annabeth opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance. Bobbi and Daisy to appeared at the door, sending Percy scrambling to his feet. He leaned against the wall as a wave of light headedness hit him at the change in position before steadying himself. Annabeth glanced questioningly at him before picking herself up, slowly walking around the bed.

The agents both looked tired, Daisy especially. She was pale, but that didn't lessen the ferocity of the glare she directed Percy as Bobbi announced the search order. He had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that he pulled Riptide out of thin air; he'd probably freak out at that too, if he was an idiotic mortal thinking he was saving the world by kidnapping a couple of high school kids.

"Any weapons you want to hand over before we do this?" Bobbi asked as she motioned for the both of them to get into the correct stance. Her condescending tone angered Percy, who was already annoyed that he was responsible for the current search. He momentarily debated shoving his hand into the sweatpants and chucking Riptide, in its pen form, at her just to see her reaction.

Bobbi smoothed her hands down Annabeth's figure before turning to Percy. "Hands up." He complied, hoping she wouldn't notice the pen in his pocket. It would just result in more questions.

His hopes dissolved when she pulled it out slowly, uncomfortably close to his face. He stood rigid and clenched his jaw.

"How'd you get this?" she demanded. " It wasn't in these sweats when we gave them to you."

He tilted his head to the side. "Well it's not like it magically appeared, is it?"

Bobbi stared at him before letting out a sigh. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because I don't feel like arguing right now," she deadpanned. "While we're here, we might as well cast your hand. Come on," she motioned for him to leave.

"I don't need your help," he growled, not bothering to hide his fury. He backed away and clenched his good fist. There was a sink in the corner, give or take a few minutes he'd live.

"She doesn't want to argue," Daisy reminded him. Annabeth gave her a once over and stopped at the red tinted gauze wrapped around her left arm, which peeked out of her loose black jacket. Her eyes narrowed. That wasn't there before.

Percy didn't tell her that he had fought with Riptide earlier, or that it had actually worked on earthquake girl. She had to be a demigod. There was no other explanation.

She turned to look back at Percy, who was stiff. She could tell he was about to snap, and they couldn't risk angering them more. "It couldn't hurt," she suggested. There was no point in ignoring healing, especially without ambrosia. He didn't want to risk injuring himself more, given that they had no idea what the future held in store for them anymore.

His eyes widened in shock. "What?" he sputtered. "Are you serious?"

"Listen to your girlfriend, Jackson. We don't have to help you, so take the offer before we take it back."

"I decline the offer."

Annabeth shook her head and pushed him towards them. "Let them align it."

With a huff, the stubborn teen marched past the agents and toward the door; he shoved his hands behind his back mockingly without a word. Annabeth was taken aback. It stung that he didn't agree to her plan, but she supposed he was still pissed about the flashback or the search. She knew it was for the best.

She thought, at least.

###

"Explain the sword out of thin air," Daisy asked casually. She leaned against the counter as Agent Morse yanked his hand toward the xray machine Fitz had designed. Within seconds it was reading off the different fractured and shattered bones. He wasn't sure what fancy words applied to which anatomical thing, but he hoped they weren't too important.

"I came here because I was promised a cast. An interrogation wasn't on the menu," he said coldly in response.

"I'm sorry, would you prefer running around with a high level boxer's fracture?" Bobbi snapped.

"Sounds tasty, but I save that for special occasions."

"You think you're hilarious, don't you?"

"Of course I am, thanks for noticing." Bobbi rolled her eyes as she wrapped his hand, refusing to speak again. The room was silent; Percy had to bite his tongue to deal with the pain as the temporary brace was slid over the tape. He wondered how easy it would be to just punch the both of them quickly and escape. He had memorized how to get back to where Annabeth was. He had Riptide...
no. Planning would be better.

They tried to ask him some more questions but eventually gave up trying to get information. They could only handle so many smart ass comments. "Where do you live?" "In a house," he'd reply. "Who do you work for?" "McDonald's, I'm a high-achieving cashier." "Where's the off button for you?" "Well, the gun seemed to do the trick."

Perhaps the last wasn't his best, but Percy was getting tired. The exhaustion he had felt before was beginning to weigh him down, and he sighed in relief when the two women stood up to leave, motioning for him to follow. They walked back to the cell and tossed him in without a second glance. The whole ordeal took ten minutes, and Percy had managed to anger them even more. He wasn't even sure why they decided to help him, especially if they were angry.

It better not have been a trap.

Despite his fears, he was at the point where it was struggle to stay awake.
He nearly collapsed from exhaustion on his way back to the bed, relishing the coolness of the sheets when he finally reached them, startling his girlfriend. She rushed over to him.

"Percy, what's wrong?" she demanded. He didn't open his eyes. "I'm just tired," he mumbled. "Don't worry, they didn't do anything... it was a fracture. I think that dendo stuff- like Tylenol, or something...g'night." Annabeth didn't have the heart to wake him up and left him be. Questions could wait until after he woke up. He had, after all, been shot twice and the broken hand must have drained him. She thought about quietly taking the pillow case off of her pillow and running it under the sink across the room to wrap it around his arm before she remembered that the plumbing was bust.

She settled next to him and tapped her hand repetitively on the comforter hyperactively. They weren't going to stay in the cell forever.

She hoped that they checked the beach lot that night and towed Percy's car. She desperately hoped that the tow company called the owner of the vehicle. Because if they called Paul...

Well, there was a certain protocol when Percy went missing. And it certainly wasn't for his friends and family to sit around.

Chapter Text

"You're quiet."

"I'm just thinking."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. Once he had woken up, she quietly repeated her plan into his ear. She was surprised to have received such a dead reaction to the news. She gestured for him to continue. He forced a smile on his face and laughed bitterly before turning away. "I'm just thinking about how long I'm going to be grounded for."

Her heart dropped. She hadn't even thought about that aspect of the issue. "Your poor mother..."

Percy shook his head sadly. He was mute until another thought crossed his mind. "It's just-" He stopped suddenly, either not wanting to continue or from a distraction of some sort.

"Just...?" Annabeth prompted.

"Well she just had Estelle, so she's going to be stressed enough all ready, and she was already freaked out after everything that happened last year, and I promised her it wouldn't happen again-"

"That was a stupid promise, Percy."

He sighed and dropped his hands to the floor defeatedly. "I know," he whispered.

"None of this is your fault," she reminded him, settling down besides him. "It's not that bad, anyway. I mean, it could be worse."

"How?" he muttered.

Annabeth dropped his hand and sat back. "Really? We've lived worse, you idiot. You could be dead right now for gods sake."

Percy chuckled harshly. "Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad."

Annabeth glared at him. "That's not funny at all."

His lack of a response caught her off guard. He didn't follow up with another snarky comment. Instead, he his head and stared at his hands, as if he was actually considering the thought.

If he was actually considering the thought.

"Perseus Jackson. That better have been a joke."

He sighed heavily, ripping himself out of the bed and onto the floor, dropping her hand. He grabbed his hair and pulled slowly in frustration. "It just gets so old sometimes, you know? I'm sick of being the laughing stock of the gods. It just keeps coming, and we keep hoping for an end, but who says there's even going to be one?"

"Percy-"

"I mean seriosuly? We just got out of fucking Tartarus to save their godly asses. The least they could do is let us go on one fucking date."

"Percy!"

He shut his mouth and turned to look at her. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his raven black hair stuck up chaotically in every direction. Annabeth's eyes met his, which practically glowed with anger.

"Tell me you didn't mean it," she pleaded, popping up off the ground.

Her words startled him, halting his anger. Before he could respond, she grabbed his biceps and forced him to look at her. "Percy-" she said warningly.

"I'm fine, I didn't, I'm just- bitter," he lied.

"You think?" she replied. She let her annoyance seep through her tone. If there was anything that frustrated her about her boyfriend, it was his tendency to turn from calm to raging hurricanes in about three seconds. It wasn't all his fault; after all, Poseidon was one of the moodier gods.

The conversation ended there. The door to the front of the cell clicked and slid open. Percy bristled and pushed away from her when Bobbi tilted her head to the side by judgingly. After she had finished staring at the two of them, the red head pulled out two pairs of cuffs.

"Since Water Boy over here decided to flood the plane and fry the electronics, we're relocating. Get up."

"Water Boy, that's clever," Percy sneered as she tried to snap the device into place; she struggled to get it to fit over the bulky brace and eventually decided to link his free arm to Annabeth's.

...which, in all honesty, was probably for the best.

Annabeth unraveled his clenched fist before sliding her hand into his, smiling slightly when she felt him relax. They began to follow the agent when she spun around at the door.

"Okay, look. I need your word that you're not going to try and fancy water bending tricks. Because we know how to stop them, and Coulson's sick of wasting our I.C.E.R.s on you. Understood?"

"Maybe if you say please."

"I'm taking that as a yes," Bobbi sighed before ushering them out the door and towards the cargo bay. The rest of the team was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp; Annabeth felt a little unappreciated when they ignored her and instead glared at Percy.

"Hey, mate!" Hunter called out, swapping guard positions with Bobbi, who jogged over to talk to the head honcho. He gave Percy a once over as he opened his mouth to speak. "On behalf of the team, I'd like to thank you for trying to kill us all."

Percy didn't respond when Annabeth raised an eyebrow questioningly at him. Instead, he clenched his jaw and glanced away. She decided to let it go with a sigh for the sake of diplomacy. "Sorry about that," she responded.

The British agent narrowed his eyes and began to form a comeback in his head when Coulson appeared behind them. Bobbi hurried away from the group off the plane and toward one of the Quinjets they had waiting for flight preparation.

The man's eyes bore into them steadily. In a lot of ways, Annabeth realized he reminded her a lot of Chiron- minus the horse part, of course. From just a few minutes experience with him she could tell that all he really cared about was his agents' safety. Behind his calculating eyes lay loads of experience, as though he had lived a lifetime.

After what seemed like forever, the man finally spoke. "Perseus Jack-"

"Percy."

Coulson's jaw clenched, and Annabeth stomped on Percy's foot to indicate it was time to stop acting childish and let the man speak. Despite the fact that this director was scrawny and only eye level with her, there was no telling what power he had attached to him. The last thing they needed was to end up in some prison camp halfway across the country.

"Sorry," Percy hissed angrily under the pain, sending Annabeth an annoyed look. "Please continue."

"Thanks. Now look. Your stunt earlier injured several of my good agents, and you're lucky they weren't serious. You destroyed my plane and we still offered you medical treatment, as our prisoner. What I'm saying is, try something again and see how it works for you. We're done being nice. Don't think that we're not afraid to use lethal force on either of you. Now, Jackson, you're coming with me."

What had Percy done?? That was a conversation that needed to be had soon. But first, Annabeth had to figure out where they planned on taking her boyfriend.

"Um-" she began as Coulson cautiously moved the cuffs from around Percy's wrist to hers. Hunter restrained her boyfriends arms behind his back while making sure to brandish the pistol he had hanging casually in a holster at his side. The tan teen squirmed in his grip, his frustration rising. The sight was quite amusing; Percy had at least a head on his captor and could definitely take him out easily, even without a right hand and Riptide.

"There isn't enough room on the Quinjets for all of us. May, Daisy, and I will be on one with him. " Coulson cut her off.

Percy stiffened. "Quinjet?"

The director narrowed his eyes at the kid. How could he have never heard of the specialty plane? They were all over the news recently, especially with the inhuman outbreak that was sending the world into chaos.

"It's a plane. Do you want to destroy that one too?"

Percy ignored him and instead rolled his eyes dramatically to look at Annabeth. She knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth. "Jason's dad is going to be pissed," he stated the obvious.

Annabeth shrugged. There wasn't much they could do, unless they wanted to explain to the government the fact the rivalry between Poseidon and Zeus and how it applied to them. Best case scenario they ended up in a psych ward, worst case the team was ravaging through Camp Half-Blood and experimenting on them. Besides, Zeus had to give Percy a break. He'd - quite literally- gone to hell and back for the gods. The least he could do was not shoot him out of the sky.

"Wait, who's Jason?" Hunter wanted to know. Coulson cocked his head as well, debating whether or not the statement was important enough to question before arriving at base.

"Do the two of you have enemies we should know about before take off?" he settled on asking.

"If you count you, then probably not," Jackson smirked.

The older man ignored the comment and traded places with the short Brit. He gave Annabeth a once over as he shifted his grip on Percy's wrists, causing him to squirm. "I've been told you're equally experienced in combat. Don't try it."

"Yes sir," she muttered under her breath, although she didn't agree with his words.

Equally experienced. Ha. Percy could dream.

Coulson and Hunter exchanged a few words before splitting away with their respective captives. Annabeth felt spited in that they had paired her with Hunter, who was slowly sucking all the patience out of her (what little was left). She struggled to remain calm and decided to focus it on conversation. Hopefully one that would result in information.

"So, where are we going?"

The man laughed and plopped into one of the seats of the jet he had led her into after securing her into the seat in front of him. She appreciated that he was kind enough to not wrench her arms behind the seat; instead they rested comfortably on her lap. Or, as comfortably as they could be. Her wrists still stung mercilessly from her first encounter with the cuffs.

"It's classified."

He paused before speaking again. "I'll tell you what," he beamed. "You tell me about why you and your boyfriend got kidnapped, I'll tell you where we're going."

This time it was Annabeth's turn to laugh. "Even if I wanted to, why should I trust what you say?"

"Hey mate, you're the one that wanted to know."

The sound of footsteps caught her attention from the cargo lift of the small ship. The muscled mass known as Mack came in first, followed by the curly haired Fitz and stern faced Morse. Bobbi gave her little more than a glance before heading to the cockpit. Hunter smiled devilishly before climbing after her.

"How's it going, Blondie," Mack asked as he took a seat across from her. She jumped at the loud bang that preceeded the raising of the cargo bed to seal the jet.

"I've been better," she said between gritted teeth at the nickname. Fitz took a spot near Mack as he fiddled with a laptop. Annabeth was surprised to see that his nose was swollen considerably; it didn't seem to affect his productivity. His fingers flew across the keyboard.

"What happened to your nose?" she asked before she could stop the words. The agent looked up and frowned. "Really? Really?" he asked, exasperated. She couldn't help but snicker at his expression and rapid hand gestures. "Well I don't know, maybe just your boyfriend or whatever using my face as a punching bag," he huffed. He looked back down at his laptop, seemingly finished before his head flew up again. "I didn't appreciate it," he clarified.

"Sorry it happened," she bit her lip to keep him for letting her know her amusement with the story.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off dismissively. Mack squinted at Annabeth before leaning back to sneak a peek at Fitz's computer. "What the heck," he muttered after a minute or so.

Mack leaned forward in the seat to ask his question. "Why are you two carrying around weapons from Ancient Greece? And why did it take us this long to see swords and daggers and not baseball bats and poles or...?"

Well, this should be a fun story to improvise, Annabeth grimaced.

"Wait, no. Before you answer that: do you take fish oil supplements regularly? Or have you recently?"

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you?" Mack ignored her way around the question.

"No, I don't."

Mack nodded. "Do you eat fish? And what about Percy?"

Annabeth huffed angrily. They were wasting her time now. "No, yes, and the world would end before Percy ate fish. He hates seafood."

Mack nodded, taking a mental note or what was said. It confused him, but the sword thing confused him more.

They needed answers, and they needed them now.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

"Are you alright?"

Percy peeled open one eye to peer at the source of the voice laced with laughter. Daisy stared at him with a face of skepticism from across the row. The plane jerked forward suddenly, sending a wave of nausea through him. He slammed his eyes shut again and swallowed before he even dared to speak.

"What do you care?" he spat. He opened his eyes just in time to see her shrug. "I don't really, I just thought it'd be polite to ask."

He scowled. "How thoughtful."

"Hey, it's the least I could do after you almost amputated my arm."

"I didn't realize you were so attached to it, sorry. I'll go for the head next time," he quipped, not fully remembering when he had done that. He raised his hand to relieve a sudden itch at the back of his neck. The movement caused Daisy to whip a pistol out of one of her many holsters. They hadn't bothered to find a normal pair of handcuffs after Fitz's newly engineered kind failed to fit around the brace. They had resorted to adding a lock around the safety harness attached to the seat so that he couldn't move (in theory).

"I'm going to scratch an itch, not murder you. Chill out," he muttered. She glared at him until he dropped his hand. "What?" he demanded. "Jumpy much?"

"Coming from the one who went crazy when we were trying to help you."

Percy clenched his jaw. "Help me? You shot me!" She opened her mouth to respond when Coulson cut off the bickering. "All right!" he boomed with authority. "Ladies, you're both pretty. Daisy, drop the gun. Jackson, cut the act."

Daisy apologized hastily and did as she was told. Percy, on the other hand, didn't like following directions. He stared at Coulson with wide eyes until he questioned it.

"Do you really think I'm pretty?" he replied with mock awe.

Coulson mumbled something under his breath. He was done trying to talk sense into the teen and decided that his best option was sitting with May in the front. So, he did.

Daisy cracked a grin at the stupidity of the joke and shook her head in disbelief. Percy frowned at her. "What?"

"You're stealing my thunder as lead smart-ass, Jackson."

He shrugged, a sudden crushing weight hitting him. He knew very well that his smart comments were half the reason that he and Annabeth had ended up in this situation. It was embarrassing that he had lost a battle at the beach, his home turf.

He didn't have long to think about it when the plane bounced violently. Daisy cursed as she flew out of her seat, catching herself at the last minute. Percy himself shouted a choice word when his braced hand clanked against the metal chair below him.

"May!" Daisy called out after a few seconds of calmness. She strapped herself into a seat while waiting for an answer. "What the hell was that?"

Coulson popped his head in from the cockpit, grabbing a handle above his head for stability. "Storm. We're going to try to go around it."

"The radar was clear!"

Percy's knuckles were white on the bottom of the chair as another wave of turbulence sent them bouncing. It only lasted a few seconds, but he had no doubt that the bad weather was a gift from none other then his second favorite god: Zeus. Second next to Hera, of course.

Note the sarcasm.

"Jackson."

He looked up from his feet to see Coulson staring at him with the slightest hint of concern. He didn't say anything, but left them for the cockpit once again. He returned seconds later with a bottled water just as another wave of bumps shook them around like rag dolls. Coulson took a breath before making his way over to Percy and handing it to him. He took it warily, not sure if he should trust it.

The man gave him a curt nod. "Drink it. You look somewhere between puking and passing out, and I'd prefer neither.

Percy's green eyes stared at him in disbelief. "Thank you," he finally said. A genuine thanks.

The shorter man left it at that before returning to the front of the plane. Percy's stomach churned. He looked at the water in his hand and wondered how he was going to get it open; the black brace on his right hand restricted his fingers from moving, which was a bummer. He squeezed it between his thighs and tried that. He failed. They hit several more areas of rough air, and as a bile rose in his throat he leaned back into the chair and groaned.

"You're pathetic. I can't watch you anymore, here," Daisy opened it with ease. She handed it back and then hurried back over to her seat.

He casually spilled some over his injured wrist in harmony with the newest set of turbulence before bringing the bottle to his lips. The liquid cured some of his physical discomfort, but the rising panic inside him still persisted.

The roughness continued for nearly another hour, which felt like five times that to the son of Poseidon. Eventually, either Zeus got bored or someone must have told him off because the weather suddenly cleared.

"So, what's the story?"

"What story," the raven haired teen asked tiredly. The stress of the past hour had left him drained.

"Why are you so scared of flying? There has to be a backstory," Daisy questioned.

Percy swallowed. "My grandparents," he started. "They died in a plane crash."

"Did you know them?"

"No, I never met them. My mom was little when they died, like five or six I think."

Daisy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "And your mom is Sally Jackson?"

She was surprised to see his face harden, his eyes suddenly furious. "Don't bring my family into this," he hissed. She raised her hands in innocence. "I'm just confirming facts. 'Chill out.'" she quoted him from earlier.

He sent her an unnerving glare before eventually growing bored with it. "How much longer?" he whined, crunching the empty plastic bottle. His question was ignored for questions about Riptide and his adventures up to his current one.

Time to make schist up.

Chapter Text

It was a well-known fact that Percy had decently severe ADHD. It served him well in battle, but amongst a group of growingly impatient government agents?

Not so much.

"Would you - please - stop that!" Daisy nearly shouted at him. He froze, unaware he had been doing anything to annoy her. He gave her a confused look.

She dragged a hand down her face. Percy didn't know how she didn't ruin her eye makeup. "The tapping. Stop."

Percy glanced down at his hand and forced it to stop jittering the cap of the water bottle against the cold metal chair, twirling it between his fingers instead. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it- how he'd missed the loud 'ding ding dings' was beyond him.

Coulson cocked his head to the side. "You have ADHD?"

The teenager scoffed and turned his head with an expression that read, "No duh." "Yeah, and dyslexia. But you should already know that, right? From stalking my entire life?"

Of course, he was referring to the barrage of questions that ranged from his several expulsions (he still didn't think the canon thing was his fault), taking a shot at skydiving from the St. Louis Arch (go big or go home, right?), his disappearing step-father (which, for the record, was not something he was interested in talking about at all), until his most recent tendency to drop off the map for months at a time (which he owed to the ever so wonderful Hera and damn Arachne).

They kept trying to talk to him about the last disappearance. It was all he could do to change the subject before something surfaced- he didn't need to break a fuel line unintentionally. Luckily, said powers exposed by said memories were of enough interest to drop the other thing.

Coulson brought it up first. "So, just how long have you been able to manipulate liquid?"

Percy's heart stuttered. "Just water," he lied, tongue dry.

Coulson sighed impatiently. "How long?"

Percy clicked his tongue and pretended to think about it. In reality, he was just giving himself enough time to think of a decent response. He was thoroughly confused why the man seemed so calm about the fact that he was basically a bad ass superhero.

Okay, so maybe he was giving himself too much credit. But still.

"When I was twelve, I learned how to control it, I guess?" he winced. There wasn't exactly a protocol on how to explain his demigod powers to mortals.

Not that he'd follow them.

He briefly contemplated using the Mist to make them forget the whole thing when Daisy sat forward suddenly. "Who taught you? Where?"

"I taught myself. When Annabeth and I were kidnapped," he made sure to leave Grover's name out. The less people they had in custody, the better. "I had no other choice. So I guess she kind of helped too."

Daisy sent Coulson an uneasy look. Percy didn't know what she was thinking, but Coulson certainly did. How did this kid manage to get his powers before the terrigenesis fall out? Was he a part of her mom's Afterlife?

In retrospect, the whole notion made a lot of sense. The annual disappearances? Troubled kid act? Random powers?

"You were a part of Afterlife, weren't you?" she asked before her mind had a chance to run through the consequences of such an action. The teen's face scrunched up in confusion, clearly not recognizing what she was getting act. "The afterlife? I'm obviously not dead, I'm sitting right in front of you. Though if you don't get me off this plane, maybe we'll all get to visit."

Coulson opened his mouth to intervene, but Daisy cut him off with a series of questions. She bombarded him with questions of her mother, Gordon, terrigenesis... Lincoln. Percy's head was beginning to spin.

"Look," he managed to cut in, resuming the habit of tapping against the chair once again, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Speak English. Please."

Daisy whipped her head around and made eye contact with Coulson once again, who looked equally as lost. How could have this kid not have undergone terrigenesis and still have powers so early, years before the outbreak?

Unless he was lying about something, or they didn't know everything they thought they did.

They did their best to withdraw more information from the suspect as long as they could, but by the time they landed, they still knew nothing other then the fact that he was aviophobic, sarcastic, scatter brained individual with a touch of water-bending powers and a knack for 'accidents'. And the fact that his powers seemed to not link up with being an inhuman frightened him; he'd have Bobbi do a blood test later, on the both of them. He wasn't sure he would be ready for the results, but they had to get answers not shrouded under six feet of sarcasm and vague answers.

No one was happier to get off the jet when it finally landed than Jackson. Daisy raised her eyebrows at him when he sighed loudly in relief as he took the final step off of the thing and into the large underground hangar.

"Are you going to kiss the ground now?"

Surprisingly, he didn't fire back with a comment of his own. Instead, he spun around in a slow circle, surveying the vast area with wide eyes. "Where's Annabeth?" he demanded as a ground crew rushed around them to dock the plane. One called Coulson over, which caused him to curse quietly under his breath. He beckoned May to watch over the two. She agreed, but wasn't excited about it by any means. Coulson left without another word.

Daisy had already forgotten about Percy's question. Her dark brown eyes focused on Coulson and the other agent talking. Neither one of them looked happy. The director rubbed his forehead, while the shorter girl seemed almost apologetic of whatever information she was telling him. It was impossible to hear, especially with the dying roar of the jet engine as the flight crew drove it off to the side. The young inhuman couldn't help but wonder if it was another powered person- ever since the breakout, it had been a race against time to find them before the police, guard dogs, or ATCU did.

"...Hello? Where's Annabeth?" Percy repeated, stomping in frustration on the concrete. His question was left unanswered once again. He threw his hands down in exasperation. "I appreciate being ignored, thank you."

The short- haired agent whipped her head back towards him and away from Coulson's conversation before crossing her arms. "We're not ignoring you, you're just insignificant. Now shut up."

The demigod bristled and glared. He prepared to respond with an insult of his own when a large clacking sound emerged from above, echoing throughout the entire hangar. Slowly, artificial lighting was replaced by sunlight as the ceiling split into two, revealing the silhouette of a quinjet against the blue sky. The unexpected movement sent him stumbling back in surprise, instinctively clearing the area to avoid getting smushed by the bird.

May grabbed his bicep and pulled him farther away as crew members scrambled to clear the landing zone. Daisy walked briskly ahead of them as the massive beast descended, the rushing air sending a deafening roar through the space. Percy wrestled out of May's grip and glared until the Quinjet touched down; the cargo hold sunk to the ground and the same routine that they had witnessed: agents running up to 'park' the aircraft quite chaotically: was soon underway. Daisy noticed how he visibly relaxed when the tall, curly blonde strutted off the aircraft, looking around in wonder at the structure of the building. Red lights flashed to signify the closing of the hangar doors, the cranking noise causing both of the teens to flinch.

Jumpy.

Jackson took a step towards his comrade's direction immediately, but May barked a command for him to stay put. He spun around and narrowed his eyes down at her. His voice was surprisingly calm when he began to talk, but obviously charged with indignation. "Would you chill, man? This entire place is flooded with armed agents. What am I going to do? Do you seriously think I could wipe this entire place unarmed? Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm seventeen. I'm not a terrorist. I'm just a kid who wants to go to school and go on a freaking normal date with my girlfriend. Now, if you excuse me-"

"Last time I checked, you're still a prisoner. Our prisoner," May stated without emotion, not letting her irritation shine through. Daisy glanced between the two warily, worry seeping into her at the sight of Percy's clenched jaw. He didn't break eye contact with the agent; instead, his shiny green eyes hardened and stared down unnervingly at her. Daisy wouldn't have been surprised if either one of their fists flew up, which would definitely cause a relapse in the kid's trust.

Luckily, they didn't have the opportunity to start anything before Coulson marched over. The tired expression on his face was soon replaced by one of annoyance. His voice was flat when he demanded an answer for the tense state.

May crossed her arms. "I hate kids," she summed up before striding away. Daisy shrugged in innocence when the director looked at her next. With a sigh, Coulson turned to his captive. The look on his face was so harsh, it could've been thought that May had just killed his girlfriend; who, speaking of, was dragging Mack away to inspect the beams intersecting in the corner. Her interest caused him to smile slightly; he himself was quite impressed with the construction of the newest base he had discovered in Fury's toolbox. It was quite a bit smaller then the others such as Resurgence, but it included all of the necessary facilities. It had soon became his favorite base; it was fairly new when they found it, still unnamed. Daisy took the liberty of naming the space the Cabin, unofficially.

"Look, I'm going to be straight with you Jackson. You aren't my worst problem at the moment. I'd really appreciate it if you don't try to get yourself killed by May. It'll make it easier for the both of us."

Coulson was taken aback when the teen smiled and shook his head slowly before laughing. A cold, empty laugh. "Easier? You want easy? Try not kidnapping two random people and accusing them of terrorism. I'm sorry your baseless kidnapping has turned into an inconvenience for you."

"We have plenty of evidence to support those accusations," Daisy jumped in on Coulson's behalf, despite his words hitting her hard. She was starting to doubt the analysis behind the information she and Fitz had found.

"You're wasting my time," Percy spat. "I'm walking away now."

Daisy stepped forward to stop him, but Coulson held up a hand to indicate that it was fine. He watched the teen until he finally reached her and Mack. He watched in concentration as a look of relief crossed over her face before embracing him quickly. His eyebrows raised in suspicion when she watched her whisper something into his ear before pulling away, inspecting him from head to toe.

"That kid has way too much sass for his own good," Daisy cut off his train of thought. The corners of Coulson's lips quirked up, amused. "This coming from you?"

She laughed and held up a pair of hands in mock guilt. "Okay, you got me."

Bobbi suddenly appeared next to him. "Sir, would you like us to take them to the cell?"

"I need blood samples from the both of them first; that first, then yes. Take Hunter and Fitz with you. Did you learn anything?"

The tall spy rolled her eyes. "The girl certainly knows how to avoid a question. Apparently she has no idea of the technology behind Jackson's weapon or why it only injured the one Inhuman on our team; Fitz still can't figure out what type of metal it is. Some sort of bronze." She continued to rattle off facts about 'Riptide,' as it was named, and the void of unknown surrounding it. It created an uneasiness within him, on top of what Agent Barrows hold told him.

He dismissed her after asking a few questions, satisfied when she handed him the transcript of their conversation with the Chase girl on a jump drive. Daisy waited patiently for her to leave, pulling Mack and the two captives along with her, before pouncing on him. "What's the news?" she begged, itching for information.

He scratched the back of his neck and sighed in defeat. Coulson had hoped she wouldn't ask, or at least have waited until he had the time to fully process the information. That was one of the many downsides attached to the role as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Information overload.

"It's Lincoln," he finally spilled. "They think they found him, and it won't be long until the ATCU does too. "

Just as he had feared, her eyes lit up with hope and excitement. As much as he hated to say it, the electric inhuman was a liability. He was worried that Daisy's obsession with him was going to get someone hurt. The doctor surely wasn't happy when they showed up at the hospital unexpectedly before, and who was to say he'd change his mind now?

"I need to go, then. I can bring him back," she swore, her posture straightening. "Where? I'll leave now; I need to go alone."

"Slow down. You're not going alone, first of all."

"-but he only trusts me. If you send me with a group of people with guns he's going to run."

"If he doesn't want to be here, you can't force him to stay, Daisy.

"It's not a matter of where he wants to be. It's where he's safe. I'm not going to sit back and watch him get picked up and tortured, or whatever the hell Rosalind and them do! He's not hurting anybody, and you know they'll just lock him away. Where is he, Coulson?"

He tried to brush it off, to get her to forget it. A mission would waste time, supplies, and heart ache. It wasn't worth it; Daisy was a great agent but too impulsive for her own good. Unfortunately, a solid ten minutes or arguing did no use to persuade her otherwise. The young agent stood firm on the ground, her lips flattened in a determined- now somewhat angry- expression.

"You forget I've hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D. multiple times," Skye- no, Daisy- shot out. "If you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

"Fine," the director sighed in defeat, knowing it was no use. He plopped down into his office chair inside one of the large conference rooms they had walked to. "Outskirts of San Francisco. I'll get you the specs, but on one condition- give it a day. You need a plan, and a team. You aren't going alone."

She hesitated before nodding in agreement. "Thank you, sir."

With that she left.

Coulson took advantage of the reclining chair and attempted to get a quick power nap until the next twenty four hours of craziness that was his job. He was just about to to drift off when a crackle sounded in his ear.

"Coulson, do you copy?" He heard Bobbi's voice from the other end. What could she possible need? Her job was simple as draining blood and taking them to the bottom floor for holding. Apparently that had proven too difficult for his group of four.

...yeah. Maybe he was a bit over tired and grouchy.

"I copy," he replied half-heartedly. His response came seconds later, a response he definitely wasn't expecting.

Chapter Text

Bobbi could understand why some people preferred to take the stairs. Elevators could be disconcerting, but they weren't that difficult to endure. It was, without question, much more convenient to ride down ten floors rather than walk ten flights of stairs.

However, the look of pure and absolute fear on the teen's faces when she led them in front of the steel elevator was definitely something new. They had been comfortable up until that point; she drew their blood samples easily enough, despite the boy's stubbornness and supposed hatred for needles. She was thankful that he was with Annabeth; without her, the past two days would have been absolutely horrid. She was the only one that could reign him in, which she found quite impressive. It reminded her a lot of her and Hunter's relationship.

But that was besides the point. Now she had to worry about a hyperventilating Jackson on the floor and a twitchy Chase.

She and Mack exchanged an uneasy look before they glanced down at the two.

"Jackson, get up," she scolded half-heartedly. Chase whipped around to glare at her from where she was knelt next to the boy. The pair of piercing gray eyes were a mix of fear, pain and anger; tears threatened to spill out of them. She let go of Percy's hand only to whip a stray piece of frizzy curly hair behind her ear.

"Does he look like he's in any position to get up?" she said slowly, bitterly. Her voice was heavy with emotion.

And no. No he did not. Beads of sweat had appeared at his hairline, now dripping down his face. His knuckles were white in fists on the ground, and his face was scrunched up in pain. If she didn't know better, she might of guessed he was having a heart attack.

But, given the past few seconds she did know better. As soon as the two had seen the elevator, something had changed. Annabeth had gasped and frozen on the spot, while Percy simply stiffened. He had put his arm around her shoulders and carefully led her toward the open doors, mumbling quietly to her the entire way. They had stood in silence like that until they reached the bottom floor. Then, the doors dinged and began to open.

Cue instant panic attack.

Mack noticed Annabeth's distress and kneeled down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She flinched but made no effort to move it. "It's okay, kid," he soothed. "He's just having a panic attack. He'll be fine."

"You're wrong," she whispered as she searched her boyfriend's face, pushing his hair out of his face; it slicked back, wet with perspiration. "And you don't think I know that?"

Mack looked between the two teens. "This happens a lot?"

"More than it should."

The bulky agent hesitated before responding. "What does he need? How can I help?"

Annabeth turned to him in surprise. "Uh, water?" she responded warily, as though she didn't expect him to actually help. "And we need to get out of this elevator," she shuddered.

Following her instructions, the two agents helped drag Jackson out of the metal box. The B floor was mainly empty next to a few agents walking through, the few that immediately stopped to see the commotion. They crowded around the two teens pressed against the wall like a mob of superfans excited for an autograph from their favorite celebrity.

"Back up!" Annabeth commanded. Despite being a prisoner, it was hard not to follow her order. Those who refused were faced with her glare of death. "He's already in a panic, he doesn't need to freak out from claustrophobia too. Back. Up."

Bobbi nodded to add authority to the situation. The small crowd dispersed, leaving the four once again. Bobbi snorted as they watched his breathing slowly even out as Annabeth coaxed him into drinking the glass of water Mack had brought. "So, he's scared of flying, elevators, and claustrophobic? What isn't he afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

Percy's voice was breathless, but held a threat all the same. Annabeth leaned into him and sighed in relief. Despite the kid's annoyingness, Bobbi was glad to see that he was alright too. But the scene that had escalated in front of them held loads of suspicion. For whatever reason, the elevator doors opening had triggered something inside of the boy.

Just like yesterday, when he had blown out the plumbing on the Bus. That hadn't been him. That must have just been a very violent reaction to some kind of memory- but what memories would these kids have? They were barely eighteen!

Curiosity and pity fought in her mind as she watched him pick himself off the floor with his good hand. He shot Mack a smirk, as though he wasn't still shaking like a leaf and white as chalk. "Hey, man, you got stairs in this place?"

The mechanic cracked a smile and chuckled. "Yeah, I think we should probably go with that option next time."

Percy seemed to make an extra effort to make jokes and tease the team when she led them to one of the many holding cells scattered around the warehouse-like level, as though doing so would make the lot of them forget what had just happened. He continuously tried to get Annabeth to say something, who's face had gone blank. Eventually, he got the memo that she wasn't in the mood and stopped.

The endless flow of words had dribbled to nothing by the time Mack finally figured out how to unlock the cell door; it was similar to that of the one on the Bus, but an older version with a glitchy touchscreen. The windows were wider, but the space itself was the same, furnishings included.

The teens didn't try to argue when they motioned for them to step inside the room, which was a refreshing start to the backlash they'd been receiving constantly. "An agent will be here soon to bring some food," Bobbi announced, earning an excited look from Jackson before smashing her finger onto the "close" button on the touchpad.

Nothing happened.

Mack held back a chuckle when she tried another three times before groaning loudly. He stepped forward and gently pressed his thumb into it; he shrugged when it shut without further hesitation. "That's not fair," she complained, stepping away with one last glance into the cell.

When he didn't respond, she questioned it. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his jaw in thought. "I don't like this," he finally said. "They're just kids, and I don't know what they've been through or why the one can control water, but it seems to me that it's been enough."

"Respectably, Mack, they're dangerous. If Chase can really take out Daisy and May as easily as you say she did, there is something more there than a strawberry camp and magic sword from a gift shop in Greece. And we don't even know if he's inhuman or not. That's what we have to be worried about."

The two stepped into the elevator once again. Mack stared at where the kid had collapsed onto the floor. He shook his head before responding. "I've only seen something like that a few times before."

The metal doors closed and the elevator jumped before lifting them slowly. Bobbi narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

Mack grunted before going on to describe how his brother's friend had come back from fighting overseas in the Marines, seemingly normal until someone slammed the cabinet door with a loud clap. It turned out the several raids they had sent him on left him with post traumatic stress disorder. Bobbi raised an eyebrow.

"You think Jackson has PTSD? No, you think he has PTSD and his trigger is an elevator? How?"

Thus the conversation the Mack continued to discuss with a more than exhausted Director Coulson while Morse busied herself in the lab.

*

"Sir, you're telling me that this kid got dragged across the United States with a gun to his head, and all the while being accused of murdering his mom by his abusive step-father. Respectively, I don't think my assumption is that far off. These kids are seventeen. I just don't see the benefit in this."

Coulson rubbed his forehead, too tired to really comprehend the question. The last thing he needed was a team divided on the matter. He already had Daisy ready to run off to find Lincoln, and who knew how that would turn out.

"Sir."

"I hear you Mack. But just because they're younger than what we're used to doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. You read the file, didn't you? How does the possibility of the kid having PTSD change anything?"

Mack sighed to maintain his composure. "All I'm saying is maybe we acted on this a little too fast. Half of the list of suspicions is all from the kidnapping. They were twelve, it wasn't their fault."

"Once again, age doesn't matter," Coulson sighed. "And even so, if everything you're saying even holds the slightest truth, then explain the sword, the fighting, hydrokinesis... you said it's part of half of the list. Why were they kidnapped in the first place? And even if it was just a freak accident, then what's the other half for?"

Mack opened his mouth to reply, but Coulson held up a hand to cut him off. "They're staying here. There are too many questions to be answered still."

Mack's jaw clenched ever so slightly before responding with a curt nod. He made a move to leave when Daisy burst into the office with wide eyes. They darted between him and Mack before raising her hands in mock innocence. "Don't freak out, but-"

"What?" Coulson demanded, dreading the worst.

She bit her lip and winced. "The sword's gone."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"You're saying it just disappeared?" Coulson nearly growled impatiently. Fitz paced back and forth in a panic before freezing, gesturing wildly to the table it had supposedly been on. Mack and Bobbi looked on uneasily as they watched the scene before them unfold.

"I- I- I had it right there," the words rushed out of the curly haired scientist, twisting his hands hyperactively. "I just, I just walked away to go get a sandwich! And now- well."

He threw his hands down in a gesture towards the empty table as if to say "well, it's obvious it isn't there now" before bringing one up to rub the back of his neck nervously. His face contorted into one of worry; he looked like he was about to cry out of frustration.

The director took a second to think out the possibilities. Someone stole it? Fitz was actually going crazy?

Magic?

He was tempted to ask Mack to search the two teens, but after his recent talk with the tall agent, he had a feeling he would be reluctant to that idea. Bobbi was busy enough running the DNA samples through the computer. So, instead, he asked Fitz.

The engineer wrinkled his nose as if the very thought repulsed him. Which, to be fair, was understandable. Jackson had punched him hard enough to knock him out for a solid chunk of time, if Mack hadn't over exaggerated the recovery. His nose was still bruised, up under his eyes. Eventually, Fitz agreed and hastily left the room, but not before mumbling something about how it'd be easier to find something with a monkey.

After everything he had done and sacrificed, how bad would it really be to get the guy a monkey? He thought momentarily. At that point, he knew he was definitely exhausted out of his mind.

Mack stared at Coulson, who couldn't tear his gaze away from the empty tabletop. The gears in his head could almost be heard in the silence. "Why haven't we talked about the fact that the sword thing appeared out of nowhere?" he said quietly. "Or why none of us saw a sword until Daisy mentioned it..."

"Or why it nearly sliced Daisy's hand off but went straight through you and Hunter? Coulson, you got nicked too, right?" Bobbi interjected.

Coulson glanced down at the red cut that had grazed his underarm during his first encounter with the conscious teen. He turned to Mack, who nodded before he let out a groan. "So they have a magic Greek sword from a random shop in Greece?"

Coulson hadn't yet had the opportunity to listen to the interrogation of Chase, but he assumed that's what the former technician was referring too. He narrowed his eyes, trying to decide if Jackson's answer for the origin of the weapon (which he remembered clearly as "Annabeth bought it for me, because what guy doesn't want a sword.") was accurate enough to that of his girlfriend's.

Unfortunately, it was. However, the blade's discrimination of it's victims was interesting enough to make up for the lack of discrepancies. Was it like Thor's hammer? It could only hurt people that weren't worthy?

In this case, of course, those who had alien blood. If Coulson wasn't worthy, than there was no way in hell that Hunter wasn't either.

He expressed his ideas aloud, earning an annoyed expression from Mack. "Yay. More 0-8-4's with alien origins."

Coulson grunted. "If anyone needs a reason to hate sharp alien weapons, it's me."

His words had meant to be lighthearted, but the awkward silence that followed suggested that Mack and Bobbi hadn't interpreted it that way. Mack broke the silence first, questioning Bobbi on the progress with the DNA. She jolted up and rounded the desk back to the computer when she was reminded of her job.

"I've done this about three times now, but it's still coming up with an inconclusive result," she muttered before typing another sequence into the computer; with Simmons gone, it was up to the spy to recover any knowledge she had in the bio field. Coulson joined her to get a good look at the monitor, which displayed exactly what Bobbi had explained. He fought down a yawn before doing a quick run through of her work. It was useless to do so; he had no knowledge of how anything in the lab worked. It looked good to him for what he could interpret.

"Has Fitz run through this?"

Bobbi's blonde curls bounced when she shook her head 'no.' "I was going to ask, but he was busy doing whatever he was doing with that sword. And also... you know."

Coulson nodded solemnly, but he knew they couldn't grieve while they had so many things to do, unfortunately. "Go rest, sir," Mack nodded. "We've got this."

He didn't need to be told twice. He left the two with a short goodbye before making his way back to his room.

He just hoped everything wasn't in chaos when he woke up.

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"Stupid ancient sword," Fitz muttered as the elevator dinged. He glanced around the floor when the doors open and didn't bother to return the few nods of acknowledgement from the agents surveying the floor. Instead, he walked directly to the two teens' cell.

...well, that was the plan. He made a few wrong turns on the way there, one of which included accidentally running into Hunter. The British agent smiled mischievously and held up the beer that was in his hand in salute before quickly joining him in stride, which Fitz was certainly not in the mood for. He wanted to find the sword and go, and although there was no way it could be down here, at least he'd feel like he did something right.

"Hey, mate. Did Bobbi send you down here too?" When he got no other answer than a tight smile, Hunter continued. "She made me bring them sandwiches." The two stopped in front of the cell. It was only then that Fitz noticed the bag in hand.

"No, the sword disappeared," he muttered, his Scottish accent particularly strong in his frustration. He tuned out Hunter's rambling and peered through one of the windows. He smiled to himself when he saw the guy who punched him sitting on the edge of the bed as his girlfriend paced the room, chewing him out for something.

Good.

It took him a few tries to get the door to open, which frustrated him to no extent. As soon as he was finished going through with Coulson's random errand, he'd reprogram it. He'd reprogram every freaking touchscreen down here, just for the heck of it.

He was bitter, yes.

He was sick of loosing things.

"-I'll never make things easy for you, Percy. I've told you that since day one."

The dark haired teen on the bed- the one that had punched him- laughed at the statement, but his head snapped up and the noise of the door. He sent his girlfriend a wary look, as if he were afraid she would yell at him, before zeroing his eyes on the bag in Hunter's hand. His eyes lit up and he shoved the pen he was twirling between his fingers into the pocket of the sweatpants.

"Man, yes," he grinned. He bounced off the bed and hopped over to Hunter. He had taken the bag and had a sandwich in his mouth before the two of them could even blink. Annabeth rolled her eyes at his antics and crossed her arms. "Can I take a shower?" she asked pointedly.

Hunter tore his eyes away from the champion eater and winked. "Anytime, love."

The look Percy sent him next was enough to make him stumble back a few steps.

The girl continued to argue her case. Fitz used the time they were taking to bicker to look around the small room for a certain bronze Greek weapon. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing.

The crackle of the paper bag distracted him from his search; Jackson scavenged for any scraps he could find, leaving a decent chunk behind for his girlfriend, before resorting to rattling his fingers on the bottom of the bed frame. He made an input into the conversation before turning to stare at the Scottish agent.

"Sorry about the nose," he pretended to wince. Annoyingly enough, he seemed sincere.

"Sorry, sure," Fitz muttered angrily. The kid didn't seem to appreciate the tease and shrugged, once again sliding the pen out of his pocket and bouncing it against his other hand unconsciously.

"Look; I'll talk to Coulson. Bloody... chill, will you?" Hunter exclaimed with mock hurt. Fitz took a break from glaring to acknowledge the outburst. Annabeth smiled triumphantly. "Good. Good talk," she said smugly.

Percy shook his head. "She always wins."

Hunter laughed at the rather relatable statement while Fitz continued trying to convert all of his hatred for the one that had punched him into one evil glare. The tapping of the pen was getting annoying.

Wait.

Fitz narrowed his eyes at the accused. They didn't give him that pen. Bobbi took a pen from him earlier.

Moral of the story, he shouldn't have a pen in his hands.

The gears whirred in his head before he could force himself to call the teen out on it. Something was wrong, and he was going to figure out what it was.

Chapter Text

"Where'd you get that?" Fitz pounced. The teen looked up, confused. Annabeth and Hunter looked back to see the cause of the sudden outburst.

"How did I get what?" Percy asked dryly, thoroughly annoyed that Fitz had chosen to pick on him once again. "My good looks?" Fitz scowled as he continued. "My mom says-"

"No, no, the pen." Fitz muttered sourly. The tapping of said object stopped midair as a look of surprise crossed Jackson's face, as though he had just realized he had been fiddling with it a second ago. He held it up to his face and did his best to look innocent. "The pen? I found it on the ground." Hunter laughed, rounding Annabeth in order to snatch the ballpoint out of his hands, which the teen let go off with a roll of his eyes.

"Good try," Hunter snickered, observing the small object. Fitz didn't miss the strained look Annabeth shot Percy before Hunter spoke up once again. "They sweep these rooms clean. You know, to make sure you don't have anything to kill us with."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Because I was going to kill you with a pen. Really?"

Annabeth coughed, as though she was choking on something.

Hunter gave her a sideways glance before going back to the conversation. "Don't act all innocent. It wouldn't be hard," he said, getting into an over-exaggerated fighting stance to illustrate the upcoming explanation. "All you would have to do is stab us in the eyes, and then Bob's your uncle. "

Annabeth snorted, her pride refusing for him to believe that. "Thanks for the run down. But we wouldn't need a pen to fight you."

Hunter laughed heartily. "Maybe so, but we have the weapon now," he claimed. Percy stiffened on the bed when Hunter pointed the instrument at him. He flicked the cap off as a joke, but then... "BLOODY HELL!"

Percy dove off of the bed as a sword sprang to life, a full three or four feet of gleaming bronze, the tip right where his throat would have been.

Fitz's jaw dropped to the ground. His eyes were practically bulging out of his head. The double edged blade was undoubtedly the weapon Percy had yielded before, and somehow it had fit in his pocket?!? It was official, he was definitely mentally ill. He needed to pack his bags, check himself into a mental institution, get a monkey...

Hunter's reaction was much calmer. He cursed proficiently and dropped the blade as though it had just come out of the forge. It clattered to the floor, filling the room with the only other noise than the British agent's breathless vocabulary. He gaped at his hands, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Could you please not throw my stuff on the ground like that?" Percy grunted as he pushed himself off the floor with a sigh, rising slowly. Annabeth rubbed her forehead in disbelief and frustration. "Percy," she scolded him half-heartedly, but her eyes remained trained on the two agents, awaiting their reaction.

Hunter was first to vocalize his (controlled) reaction. He repeated his initial sentiment, but elaborated with a "how?!?"

Fitz was next to recover. He grabbed the hilt of the weapon off the floor and backed away from Jackson warily. He twisted it in his hand, intrigued and terrified of the thing all at the same time. How the heck did someone engineer this three foot long weapon to fit inside of a ballpoint pen? There was no way that was possible without some sort of magic. Heck, the thing was at least five, ten pounds now- he doubted that its smaller form maintained the same weight.

What the heck happened to conservation of mass?

Then again, Captain America's shield defied all laws of physics. Why shouldn't the teen's magical sword/pen do the same?

His mind scrambled to try and find a logical explanation, but there wasn't one. He started with the first question he had asked. "Where- how did you get this?"

Percy sighed, obviously trying to figure out a decent answer. Fitz half expected him to try and get away with another "I found it on the floor," response, but his was much more unexpected. They should know by now that this kid had much more to him than what met the eye.

"It was in my pocket," he said finally, which didn't answer anything. Hunter beat Fitz to the punch. "Cut the crap. We had it up in the lab when you got down here. So how did it end up in your hands?"

The dark haired teen looked tiredly at Annabeth. Fitz scrunched his nose. Could he not answer the question by himself?

The curly blonde, who's hair was currently a mess on top of her head, huffed. She knelt down to pick the cap of the former pen off of the floor and handed it to the British agent before opening her mouth. "It's linked to him. If he looses it, it eventually reappears back on him."

Hunter set his beer down on the floor and rubbed his chin. "Okay then! That solves the mystery. We'll be leaving now... bloody, don't you have a better explanation than that?"

Percy shrugged, a "whatever" expression plastered on his face. "Magic?"

The curly haired engineer scoffed before he could stop himself, doubt creeping into his mind, despite the suggestive clues. He wouldn't think about it now. If only Simmons were here...

Hunter began interrogating Chase on the origins of the weapon. "You said this was from an antique shop," he stated pointedly. "I've been to antique shops, and all I've found is mildew and weird statues."

"Well, it's an antique. "

"Of what??"

Fitz jumped in. He had gotten the chance to research a significant amount on the double edged blade. "It's Greek," he narrowed his eyes at Percy, suddenly suspicious of his olive complexion and dark hair. His mind jumped back to his days at the Academy. He was shy and hadn't really associated with any of the other students other than... well, Simmons, but he distinctly remembered being deathly jealous of one of her guy friends, who had been second generation Greek. His dark, flawless olive skin and dark brown hair rivaled over his pale Scottish self...

In the end, though, he had her last.

Well, if she was still here.

"Hey man, are you alright?"

Fitz hadn't even realized tears had formed into his eyes. He took a second to recompose himself before blinking rapidly in an attempt to hide the evidence. Despite being interrogated, the teen still seemed genuinely interested in his well being.

And it was annoying. It was hard to hate him like that. He debated telling him so, but resisted the impulse.

"Your mom isn't Greek," he said instead. He glanced behind him to make sure the green blinking light for the audio was running. Luckily, it was.

Hunter shot Fitz a confused look before turning back to Annabeth. "Is it just me, or was that the most random question?" The girl glanced at him for a millisecond but ignored the question.

Jackson's face mimicked that of Hunter's. "Yeah, man, if you're going to interrogate me, do it right. If you're trying to ask me who my dad is, don't go the roundabout way. I already know you know who my mom is."

"Your dad is Greek," Fitz declared, more as a statement than a question, although he didn't know how the connection between his heritage and weapon would help him.

"I already told you. I don't know my dad," Percy explained, picking at a fraying string at the bottom of the fitted black shirt they had given him to wear. He scowled and looked up. "My mom says he died at sea, but I think that's the nice way of saying he abandoned her with me before I was born."

Annabeth blinked. Silently, she was in awe of her boyfriend's acting... although she knew the bitterness of the abandonment wasn't exactly all false. She could relate. She and her dad were on better terms now, but given he hadn't exactly cared when she ran away at seven still strung. And her own mother, Athena? Well, she sent her on a quest to her death. So, yeah. She got the bitterness thing.

"I still don't get how this is relevant," Hunter asked. He never received an answer, which frustrated him. "Why is your dad Greek? I missed something."

"My dad isn't Greek," Percy argued. "We live in Manhattan... gods, why does it even matter?" he complained. "Next are you going to ask me about Calculus? Because I know nothing about that either."

Annabeth snickered. "Or history, or English, or chemistry-"

"Hey now," he shot her a playful look.

Hunter shook his head. "So, what, do you have any magic items we should know about?"

Annabeth shook her head and crossed her arms when he looked at her. Hunter's eyes dropped to her collarbone, where a necklace full of beads hung off. They all seemed to have different patterns all them, and he was particularly suspicious of the ring hanging off of it. If a pen could be a magic sword, why couldn't a ring?

Call him paranoid, but Hunter reached out and pointed at it. "Sure, then what's this mate?" he demanded.

"It's her dad's college ring," Percy stood up quickly, towering over Hunter threateningly. Fear coursed through Annabeth. They couldn't take her camp necklace. It was everything. "You already took her dagger, she's clean."

"And I trust you why?" Hunter demanded, although he didn't have much an intimidation factor when he was a head shorter than the guy. He wanted to take the necklace just to spite him, now.

The boy's sea green eyes hardened. "Don't you think if the ring was a sword, she would've used it by now?" The two stared at each other, but the intensity of Jackson's gaze eventually caused Hunter to flinch and turn away. "I'm done," he announced, sending an uneasy look in the direction of the sword. "This is weird, I'm tired... I'm done."

Fitz couldn't help but agree with him. If they were going to interrogate the two teenagers, he might as well leave it to the professionals. He was just the engineer. He had found the weapon, and although his curiosity was raging, he had bigger problems to worry about, like finding Jemma. This was Coulson's problem.

He backed away from the girl and boy towards the door slowly, waiting for them to try something. As the door opened and the two agents stepped out, Percy shouted from inside, "If you lose the sword again, you'll know where it'll be," he smirked. He patted his pockets. The door slid shut (without a glitch this time). Fitz and Hunter shared a look.

"Well, someone better tell Coulson."

Hunter left it at that and marched away towards the direction of the elevator, leaving Fitz standing awe struck with an alien 0-8-4 in his hands.

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb(how is that 1600 words nothing happened what the heck)bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

Daisy paced the length of the Quinjet nervously. They were twenty minutes out from San Francisco, and her mind wouldn't stop racing. Getting Coulson to let her on this mission was like pulling teeth, and she didn't have the time or opportunities to screw this up. She had a few agents with her, but only three. She knew there was no chance of the stubborn, ruggishly handsome blonde doctor agreeing to come with her if she was surrounded by an army of armed people. He hated her line of work as it was.

She just hoped he didn't hate her.

The last attempt of getting Lincoln to come back to base with them stuck out like a sore thumb. "My life is in ruins," he had said. She couldn't afford that kind of reaction today. Especially with the updates she was getting back from base: the kid's sword was magic? It could only hurt her and Coulson? There was some connection between Jackson's biological dad and the weapon because they were both Greek? The DNA analysis was coming up inconclusive, so they weren't inhuman? She was afraid that she would miss something big if she didn't come back soon. Plus, it was fun going back and forth with the Jackson kid.

Failure wasn't an option. He needed to come back.

She was struggling with objectifying the mission. Emotions surged through her. She wouldn't admit it, but she missed him, a lot. It hurt when he seemed more content alone than with her last time she had saw him, and the idea of him being killed or abducted by the ATCU sent chills down her spine. It occurred to her that they were after her, too, but luckily she could buy some time as a solid member of what was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. Lincoln didn't have that head start.

She repeated the mission specs in her head on a loop. Land, unload, spy, talk, and, hopefully, go home with subject in tow. If there information was right, he'd be popping up at some café around noon. She found it interesting that he'd chosen to hide right outside of one of the most populated cities, in the United States at least. Hide in plain sight, she guessed. Although she assumed it would be nearly impossible for him to get a job anywhere, given any background check would be the equivalent of shooting screaming flares into the sky for law enforcement and vigilantes alike.

"Hey, we're landing," Agent Roekey popped his head from the cockpit into the back. Daisy looked up and forced a smile onto her face. "Great, thanks. Any new intel?"

The older man shook his head. "Still looking at Evan's," he said in reference to the small family run diner. It was crazy that S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to figure out the small schedule of his in nearly two days, especially somewhere that wasn't typically busy.

Maybe she needed to figure out where they got this information.

Brushing the thought out of her head, she knelt down to retie the laces on one of her old, beat up combat boots she had chosen for the occasion. Perhaps the short denim shorts and baggy band tee weren't the best outfit to pair them with, but at least they disguised the gun holster wrapped around her waist. All she had to do was blend in. Well, and convince him to come with her, but she had already stressed about that. Now she needed to focus.

As the Quinjet descending, it dawned on her that the weather for this mission wasn't exactly ideal. Rain began to bounce off of the windshield as soon as the plane retreated under the clouds. It wasn't an onslaught of water by any means, but just enough to fill her stomach with dread. She hoped today wouldn't be an example of prophetic fallacy.

No. It would work, it had to. (She should probably stop doing this. She was going to end up jinxing herself).

She adjusted the band shirt for a final time. It was time.

*missionimpossibletheme*

A few bells hung off the end of the old wooden door jingled slightly when Daisy pushed it open. The small diner hadn't been too difficult to find; it was along one of the main streets of the small town, a strange thing to say about a suburb. She closed the umbrella she had been carrying and looked around expectantly. A waitress glanced up from behind a small bar area and smiled warmly. "Afternoon!" she chirped as she adjusted the light brown apron around her thin waist. She had a deep tan and light blonde hair that was pulled up in a bun on top of her head. Daisy nodded to acknowledge the greeting before continuing her scan. A small family was trying to control an antsy five year old in a corner booth. Two teenage guys sat at one of the middle tables, awkwardly flirting.

And then at one of the barstools, in her sheer surprise, was Lincoln. Of course, they had guessed he would be here by the information they had, but part of her hadn't suspected that he'd actually be... daring enough to come to the same spot at the same time for four days in a row. She wondered if he was getting tired of running. She hoped he wasn't ready to give himself up, just like that.

The dark blue hoodie he was wearing hung off him loosely; he was hunched over on one of the bar stools, swirling a straw in whatever was left of what he was drinking; it looked like water, unless he was drinking straight vodka. She couldn't see his face, but she could tell it was him. It was that weird, cheesy feeling she never knew was real; something that was a mere plot device in romance novels. But she could feel that it was him, too. It wasn't something she could explain. She just knew.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked meekly, tapping his arm. He flinched at her touch, and her stomach lurched when he muttered, "no," before glancing at her. He didn't seem to recognize her at first, but a quick double take left his already tired looking face with a scowl. He quickly grabbed the backpack off of the chair next to him and jumped off the chair. "No," he repeated. "I was just leaving."

Well then.

"Lincoln, wait!" she called out. He didn't look at her, instead diving a hand into the front pocket of the bag and pulling out a twenty. He thanked the waitress hastily before storming out. She followed him, in such a rush she forgot the umbrella. The rain was coming down harder now, drenching her by the time he led her into an alleyway secluded from traffic and people.

"What do you want?" he spat when he spun around to face her. His blue green eyes were lined with red, and bags hung under them. Daisy took a step back to accommodate for the blow, his words holding more malice than she had been expected. Her first response was to get defensive.

"I'm trying to help! When have I ever tried to hurt you? I'm just- look, I'm just trying to help, Lincoln. Just... listen. Please?" she slowed herself down, afraid she was going to chase him away. His eyes flashed with something she couldn't decipher underneath his furrowed eyebrows. Raindrops ran down his cheeks and stuck in his eyelashes like tears as silent thoughts raced through his mind.

She took the silence on his end as a signal to continue. She brushed a damp piece of hair out of her eyes before starting her spiel. "The ATCU isn't going to stop until they have you in their custody, dead or alive. Hiding out? Eventually, you're not going to be able to hide anymore. You're lucky I found you before they did."

"What do you want," he repeated coldly, obviously not appreciating the reality check. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment out of habit.

Daisy sighed and pulled her shirt away from her chest; it was beginning to stick awkwardly. "Come back to base with me." He opened his mouth immediately to protest, but she cut him off.

"You'll be safer there. No more running. There are plenty of rooms, you can scream at us for putting you in this freaking situation in the first place, there are showers... there's a killer bar too,"

"I don't drink."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Everything you've been through, and you don't even drink a little?" His face soured when she finished the sentence. She decided not to push that question; obviously there were some things she didn't know about him.

"There's free food, then. Just try it? A couple of days, no strings attached..."

"Do you really expect that you can just drop in randomly and expect me to follow you blindly? Why do you even care so much?"

A beat of silence fell between them, the only sound being the pitter patter of raindrops on the pavement. "I care because you spent so much time pulling me up off the ground. You need help, and I'm not going to turn my back on you."

He looked away . He clenched his jaw before turning back, his words but a whisper. "I'm not worth this trouble, Daisy. Don't waste your time on me."

"Here's the thing," she started, grabbing his hands and forcing him to look at her. "I've been told I'm a very stubborn person," she continued, in reference to one of their past conversations. "If I want to waste my time on an equally frustratingly stubborn, good guy who can't ask for help when he needs it, then I will."

She started to panic when he turned around sharply, but luckily he made no move to walk away. His voice cracked when he spoke. "I'm not a good guy."

"Lincoln. Just because you have these powers doesn't make you a monster. You told me that. You're a good guy. And you deserve not to have to be hunted like an animal. Please. Come with me, even if it's just for a few days."

She grabbed his shoulders and turned him around to face her. Her heart broke at the tears that had rimmed his eyes involuntarily. Fire burned in her eyes as she stared into his. Her gaze dropped to his lips momentarily, and when she looked up, he was nodding. Slowly, but it was a nod all the same.

She gasped in relief and brought him into a hug. She relished in how he relaxed in the embrace. She felt immense guilt for dragging him into this situation; she was just glad that he would finally be able to relax for the first time in a while. "I'll go with you," he mumbled.

"You can trust me. You know that, right?" she asked, pulling away. She scanned his face as she awaited an answer.

"I- I trust you," he confirmed. And she kissed him. Slowly, carefully. It was short and sweet, but

just long enough to prove to him that she wasn't going to leave him anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Daisy was pleasantly surprised that she had been able to convince Lincoln to come back to base with her relatively easy. Her spirits were high as she led him with their hands intertwined through streets and towards the small clearing in the forest near the town where they had landed the Quinjet. Despite the fact that she and Lincoln were both drenched, she was having the time of her life. She didn't get much normal in her life, given that the alien DNA flowing through her, but it was fun to pretend that she was just a normal girl with a gorgeous guy. Even if just for a little while.

Of course, the ATCU had to make sure she knew that would forever just be a fantasy. Especially when they decided to show up out of freaking nowhere (seriously- did S.H.I.E.L.D. need to invest in teleportation technology? How did they appear so out of the blue all of the freaking time?).

The "Advanced Threat Containment Unit," or a fancy way of saying "let's imprison and torture people who happen to have super powers," was a newfound pain in S.H.I.E.L.D. 's butt. The United States government had erected them out of the dust in the assumption that their original agency responsible for dealing with the weird crumbled under the HYDRA infiltration. Coulson's agency and the government's were in a constant state of tug of war with inhumans in the middle. Daisy could confidently say that S.H.I.E.L.D. was much more qualified to handle the newly found powered people in terms of experience and understanding, but unfortunately the obstacle that was hard to overcome was the fact that their division didn't exist in the eyes of the public. And also the mere factor that the government provided support and media usage to said ATCU.

But anyway, that was a lot of backstory and information that wasn't really needed to explain why the ATCU showing up in the middle of her pick-up mission was extremely frustrating.

She and Lincoln had maybe ten more minutes of walking to go to escape the small town when the unwanted words of warning from Agent Roekey blasted into her ear. "Daisy?" his deep voice questioned anxiously. "We don't know how, but somehow the ATCU-"

Daisy dropped Lincoln's hand and brought it to her ear, pressing the piece deeper into it in order to hear the words better. Lincoln's eyes widened as her look hardened. "What? You're going to have to repeat that."

A long sigh. "They're closing in. Agent Hale has the Quinjet ready and I can-"

"How long?"

"What?"

Daisy jerked her head and picked up the pace, encouraging the dirty blonde lightning boy next to her to do the same. "I said, how long until they get here? How many?"' It was just their luck that they chose this exact moment to find him. Coincidence her ass. Somebody somewhere had it out for her.

Roekey fired off some more details, giving them less than five minutes to prepare themselves for a confrontation, two against fifteen to twenty. The odds were great.

Note the sarcasm.

Lincoln was growing impatient and anxious as he continued listening in onto the conversation, doing his best to piece together the one sided responses. He barely grasped onto the terms ATCU and little time. Daisy was ignoring his frantic questions as she marched up the pavement, instead blabbering into what he assumed was an earpiece. It felt surreal. Just when he thought the majority was over... more? He had done fine avoiding the agency on his own, and as soon as he got his supposed 'help,' things were going to go downhill? Fear was replaced by anger. She promised him safety. What was this? A trap?

He jumped in front of her, cutting her off. "Daisy, what's going on?" His voice came out much more strained than he had intended for it to be, but got her to look at him all the same.

She grimly explained the situation to him, confirming his fears.

Why did everything always have to escalate so quickly?

His initial thought was to throw down his promise and march away, to grab the old beat up car he'd bought off his friend a week or two ago, but something within him willed him to stay. He told himself it was because he trusted Daisy enough to get him out of it, but really? If he really got down to it?

He was just tired of running.

"Lincoln, look at me."

Her tone bothered him. It wasn't condescending per se, but the way she spoke the words was as though he was something fragile. He wasn't fragile. He'd held his own for the past three weeks, and he sure as hell wasn't going to break down.

"We're going to be fine. Just follow my lead," the agent assured him.

Yeah, because that had worked out well for him so far.

She led him out of the town and towards the thick forest, although he didn't know if that was a strategic move or the initial route back to the Quinjet. It had been about three minutes since the call, yet it had seemed like hours.

"We're going to try and get to the Quinjet before they get to us," she informed him as she broke into a brisk jog. He narrowly avoided a patch of thorns before sprinting to catch up. "How far out are we?" he asked as they rounded a curve.

"A few minutes, if you can keep up the pace," she challenged.

And a few minutes it was. His spirits were high when the bird emerged from the trees in a clearing just wide enough for it to fit with no ATCU members in sight. His enthusiasm wasn't matched, however. Instead of relief, Daisy's face held concern.

She grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving the cover of the undergrowth. She crouched down, bringing him with her. Her eyes scanned the area, where as he looked down. His day got five times better when he became 80% sure he was sitting in poison oak. He pulled his hands out of it quickly, resulting in a glare from his short haired escort.

"Quiet!" she hissed. "I don't think we missed them. We might be sitting ducks here."

Fair enough, considering. But seriously... wasn't poison oak the one with the three leaves?

They waited there for what seemed like forever, with Daisy whispering back and forth between the agents on the other line. From what he could pick up, apparently the three other agents she had come with had managed to hold up the group of ATCU agents in town.

Daisy shuffled around for a second before standing up, squinting in the direction of the Quinjet with one last scan of the area. "We're good," she said finally. "Hurry up, let's go."

He took one last look at the poison oak and rose to his feet before following her out into the clearing. Which was his first mistake.

His second was the hesitation to run when a husky voice yelled out for the two of them to freeze. But, he did. He turned around to see a small horde of men dressed in tactical gear with weapons pointed at them; he front man? Some bald guy that looked familiar- yes. He had been at the front lines the few times he had come to face to face with the ATCU, and he couldn't say that he was excited to be reunited.

Daisy muttered obscenities- quite colorful ones, at that- and grabbed his arm, yanking him toward her. She started to pull him toward the Quinjet, as though ignoring the problem at hand would make it go away. Frustration boiled in his veins. Really? S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to have some kind of credibility when they freaking announce they have it all under control, weren't they? It was no wonder the government felt the need to build a new branch.

He told her as much as he snatched his arm back. They had gone another five paces by successfully ignoring the issue until he heard the ring of a gunshot in his ears. Dust erupted a foot away from him as a bullet ripped into the ground. Daisy whipped around with panic on her face, but once seeing that he was fine crossed her arms. The bald agent smirked at his ability to get them to stop walking and marched closer until he was only five feet away.

"This can be easy," he drawled slowly, dragging his eyes up and down him like he was his next meal. Daisy humphed, stepping in front of him protectively.

He wasn't a little kid. He didn't need protection- he didn't deserve it, either.

"It could, but it won't. How did you even find us?"

"Daisy, right?" The man's voice sounded like he had had a few too many cigarettes in his lifetime. "Agent Luther Banks."

"I didn't ask for an introduction."

His eyebrows rose, and he slowly tore his gaze away from Lincoln to look at Daisy. He stared at her for a few seconds, sizing her up, before straightening his shoulders. "I have orders from the United States government to bring in Mr. Campbell with the ATCU." He once again narrowed his beady eyes at the other inhuman. "By any means necessary."

Daisy rolled her eyes, extending her arms towards the ground. She glared at him, challenging the other agent to do something.

"Yeah, well, we're not interested," she barked. Against her better judgement, she sent a wave of vibrations under their feet without warning. Lincoln's eyes widened as the agents stumbled. A few fell, while Banks managed to keep his footing and teaim his weapon at Daisy, who was already sprinting away. He threw the gun out of his hands with a bolt of electricity before following, ignoring the shouts from behind them.

"Get in get in get in get in get in!" Daisy screamed, starting the lift gate before he he had even slowed down. In a smooth motion she ripped a pistol from a holster that had been hiding under her shirt (how had he not noticed?) and handed it to him.

"I don't have any idea-"

"Just point and shoot! The safety is off!"

She ran off towards the cockpit, leaving him alone with the weapon; the door seemed to be closing slower now, as if the world wanted them to die today. His heart stopped when a bullet raced past his ear, so close he was sure it must have taken out a line of hair with it too. He shot back blindly, eventually dropping the weapon and relying on his powers instead. He shot out arcs of electricity, which proved highly effective with the rain, until the lift gate clicked into place with a groan.

It was only seconds later when the powerful whirring of the engines came to life, bringing the Quinjet off the ground and into the sky. He could hear the bullets from below pinging harmlessly on the outer body of the aircraft.

"Since when can you fly?" He asked after a minute or two, finally calm enough to organize his thoughts. Daisy's hands hovered over the controls, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "And what about the two other agents?"

"May taught me the basics but-" she trailed off before looking at him.

"But what?"

"Let's just say I hope autopilot works as advertised, or we may have an issue." He grimaced before repeating the second question.

"Coulson will send in an extraction team; they'll be fine. They aren't high profile, like someone I know," she smirked, punching him in the arm playfully.

"Am I going to regret this?" he choked out without fully thinking it through. Her eyes met his, sending chills down his spine.

"I sure as hell hope not."

//

It was midnight in the cell Percy and Annabeth shared. Midnight, the unfortunate time for nightmares. They brought Percy right back to the beginning of Tartarus, right after he hit the ground.

The air was acrid, stinging Percy's throat every time he took a breath; he wished that could be his only complaint, but the only thought running through his head when he woke up was "Ow," which probably wasn't a good sign.

His mind spun as he tried to get a grasp on where he was and why exactly he felt as though he had gotten run over three times over by a truck. He was vaguely aware of a presence above him. He heard his name as two cold fingers stuck their way under his ear, clearly checking for a pulse.

He had a pulse, right? He was pretty sure he was alive. Otherwise it wouldn't hurt so bad.

"Hi," he croaked as he slowly opened his eyes. The air smelled musky and sour, and the unmistakable scent of gasoline filled the air, like the room could burst into flames at any moment. It wouldn't be hard. It seemed that all the moisture had been sucked up by a power vacuum in the dry air- he could feel his lips crack as he breathed in. Despite the pain, he sent her a small smile. The worry in her face, barely visible in the low light, concerned him- did he look that bad?

He certainly FELT that bad, but he wasn't about to admit that.

"Thank gods... are you okay?"

He wanted to nod, but his head was too clouded to think straight. He desperately tried to remember what situation they were in this time, but it was as though someone had thrown the memory in a cage with the keys just out of reach. Panic surged in his chest. He couldn't forget; he had gone through that once, and he was certainly not eager to have to go through that again.

"Percy?" Annabeth questioned again. Her eyebrows were furrowed together adorably, causing him to smile against his will. "I'm good," he coughed. His voice was much weaker than he had been expecting, surprising them both. His head and back hurt like Hades, but he didn't know how either of those would affect his voice.

"Can you sit up?" she asked tentatively, feeling around with her hand to find his shoulder. He scoffed in disbelief. Of course he could sit up.

And he did. But not without being hit with a massive wave of nausea. He turned as quickly as he could, igniting the burning pain in his back and pounding in his head before throwing up the entire contents of his stomach, which was probably super attractive. A wave of embarrassment hit him as Annabeth knelt forward to rub his back. The pressure soothed and stung at the same time. What the heck was wrong with him?

Bile stung his throat when he finally finished retching. Silence fell over the two, with only the constant moaning background noise as company. He decided to pop the question after realizing that he was never going to figure out the answer on his own; especially with his mind racing like it currently was. "Where are we?"

If he had been looking at her, he would've bet that a look of pure pain crossed over her face based on the tone of her voice. "Seaweed Brain. If you're kidding it's not funny."

Okay. Good sign, then. He groaned, carefully sitting all the way back up once more, pushing down another wave of sickness. "I'm serious- I can't remember."

Silence, again. He was scared he had made her angry. Luckily, though, she had just been thinking- which was good, because he wasn't good at handling an angry Annabeth. "Do you have a headache?" she asked finally.

Ha. A headache was an understatement - he wasn't even sure migraine covered it - but he agreed all the same. Was she dodging the question?

"Yeah, like all of Jason's head injuries rolled up into one. Why? Do you-" he choked on bile- "-do you have a diagnosis?"

"You've got a concussion," she sighed. Oh. Maybe if he could think straight or didn't feel so laggy he probably could've figured that out for himself. "What all do you remember?"

Ugh, that exercise made the headache ten times worse. Vivid memories of his quests jumped into his mind, all the way up to trying to getting the giant judgmental statue of doom onto the Argo II... and then Annabeth screaming in pain.

His girlfriend shook her head. "That's it? You don't remember anything else?"

"If I did I would've told you."

Her lack of comment to his snarky response sent adrenaline through his blood, worry coursing through it as well. "Are you going to answer or...?" he started before being cut off by a choked sob.

Oh gods. Was Annabeth crying?

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. He ignored the pain that arose in his back as a result and instead held her as each quiet cry rocked her body. "Annabeth?" he asked tentatively.

What she said next stopped his heart completely.

"Tartarus, Percy. We're in Tartarus."

The dream dissipated and Percy jolted up into a sitting position in the small white bed that had been crammed into the small cell. He hated himself as soon as he came to terms that he had. Annabeth immediately awoke, given that the both of them had become the defining examples of "light sleepers."

She didn't say anything, but grabbed his hand before snuggling back into the covers. Their nights sort of had a protocol to them now. If it wasn't him, it was her with the nightmares, but it wasn't uncommon for them both to share the experience. Having to sleep in different cabins was hell, but they managed. They had both learned the safest nighttime routes to avoid the harpies in case of emergency, and Chiron always managed to turn a blind eye when they both stumbled out of the Poseidon cabin in the morning. He understood.

(Plus, having sex in a camp bunk bed didn't seem appealing in the least).

Percy smirked at the thought as he lay back down before memories of the day previous rushed in, along with the anxiety. They had been questioned all day, had about fifteen hundred liters of blood pumped out of them (seriously- he had started to wonder if their purpose was for data like they claimed or to just make them weak enough to not be able to move), and he still had no idea how much these people really knew. They didn't give anything away with their constant stoic expressions. The only one that he could kind of deal with was the one with the bob, but he hadn't seen her all day. Maybe they had done that on purpose.

At least they had both been able to get showers. He was pretty sure that his hand had completely healed by now; at least, it stopped throbbing constantly. He kept the brace on for the act though. No need to add to his use of powers.

Which, for the record, terrified him. The fact that they realized he had powers- hell, he had done a great job of putting them and his weakest self on display- and were inching closer to the fact that his dad was Greek made him sick. What would they do if they found out? It wouldn't be long until they found the rest of camp, and then what? He couldn't let anyone else end up where they were right now. He would never forgive himself.

A small whimper escaped Annabeth's lips; he looked down to see her face scrunched into one of fear. She pulled more blankets towards her, quickly ripping them off of his own body. He squeezed her hand until she relaxed before rolling back over to his side, not bothering to try and get the covers back.

He'd be fine without them.

Chapter Text

Kids were exhausting.

Paul was hunched over at the kitchen table, trying but failing to read through his emails on his laptop. His eyes kept closing in between sentences, the steaming cup of coffee next to him helping little. Half of them were straight from the English head at Goode; didn't she know that school had ended almost three weeks ago? In his mind, that meant he had another two and half weeks before he had to think about lesson plans or assignments. He didn't care if they were putting him on the third or fourth floor- as long as he wasn't teaching in the boiler room he'd live. Right now he just wanted to focus on keeping Chloe quiet enough for Sally to get some shut eye. The three month old had reached (what he hoped was) the peak of her fussiness, which meant hell for him and his wife. They couldn't make it an hour without hearing blood curling screams from across the house- seriously, she had some lungs on her.

It was all worth it though. She was the cutest darn kid he had ever seen, with a tuft of soft brown hair like her mother's and glowing chocolate eyes like his own. And when she laughed, you couldn't help but join in. It was one of those weird gurgle noises- there was really no better way to describe it.

Said little devil smiled at him from her high chair, as if she had known he was thinking about her. He scrunched his face up and stuck his tongue out, resulting in a giggle. He laughed when she tried to copy him. They continued to mess around when the shrill cry of the home phone interrupted them.

Who was calling at nine in the morning?

With a reluctant sigh, Paul pushed himself out of the kitchen chair and to the counter. The number that appeared on the screen didn't look familiar. Assuming it was a telemarketer, he clicked the red button to send whoever it was to voicemail.

He sat back down, stealing another glance at Chloe. When the voicemail began with a non automated voice, he was surprised. He turned away from his daughter and stared at the phone base.

"This is a call from Fraiser's Towing for PAUL BLOFIS. Your vehicle, make mazda, model RX-8 2010, tag BL03K12 was towed at your expensive at 9:03 AM this morning as result of violation of public parking over 48 hours. For pick up information or if this vehicle is not yours please call at..."

The bored voice on the other line blurred as the shock of the situation hit him. His immediate instinct was to whip around to see if Sally had heard it. There was no movement; silence filled the air, but still, it did not bring him relief. For one, it was in stark comparison to the static from the phone seconds before. Two?

Percy freaking Jackson.

He remembered learning Sally had a son. It was one of their first dates, actually. Granted, they were study dates, but either way he was able to talk and laugh with this beautiful woman he had met, which was a blessing in itself.

As in all the cliches, she had taken an intermission in the middle of overanalyzing a paragraph she had written to excuse herself for the restroom. He first took a minute to gather himself- that woman had him flustered- but then began to look more closely at the framed photos on the walls and resting on the small side table besides the small cream couch. There were some pictures of a younger Sally smiling up or next to her parents, but he was most intrigued by the messy haired kid in the majority of them; alone or next to her. He smiled at one where the kid couldn't have been more than five- he was squatted in the sand with his back to the camera, poking at a red crab.

The newest photo he saw was a school portrait. His first impression? The kid's messy hair, crooked grin, and twinkling emerald eyes reminded him of a certain brand of students he had taught. The kind with several detentions and suspensions under their belt, with a severe disregard for authority. The kind he unfortunately severely disliked.

He didn't know why it didn't occur to him that this boy could have been Sally's son. He jumped when she returned next to him, folding one leg under the other before allowing a small smile to appear on her cheeks.

"That's Percy," she nodded towards the frame.

"Your nephew?" He questioned, which he knew now was stupid. She didn't have any siblings. When she didn't respond immediately, he quickly turned to see what was wrong. She glanced once at the image before holding his gaze, as if to gauge his reaction. "My son."

Paul's eyes widened and turned back to the photo. "You have a son?" The sentence came out as more than a statement than a question.

Sally nodded, her smile not wavering despite the shock on his face. "He's almost thirteen now."

The question bouncing around in Paul's head- the one most concerning to him- was who was the father? He ignored it and instead focused on the boy himself, but Sally had panicked in his silence and started to speak again.

"He uh, he's at a camp right now. I'd say you can meet him, but I'd really rather we get to know each other better before that time comes. He's... he's been through a lot."

That statement had confused him at first, but fast forward to now, he knew that that was quite possibly- or rather, hands down the biggest understatement of the century.

And knowing that background made the call all the more frightening.

Without so much as a second thought, Paul stood and nailed in the number for the Big House at Camp Half-Blood.

The phone rang a few times, before a crackle signified it had been answered. "Hello! You've reached the office of Delphi's Strawberries, this is Aspen! How can I help you?" A girl's cheery voice rambled into the phone. Paul would've laughed if he wasn't so nervous.

"Morning, Aspen. I was wondering-"

"I'm sorry sir, I can't hear you. One second please- GUS! WALLACE! SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A PERSON!"

Paul winced at the yelling before the girl came back on. "Sorry sir. You were wondering...?"

"This is Percy's step-dad. May I speak with Chiron?" He asked, staring at Chloe as she grinned at him.

"You're Percy's step-dad? He's really nice! He showed me how to canoe."

Paul forced a chuckle. "That sounds about right... may I speak with Chiron?"

"Well he's teaching archery right now with the Apollo kids. I tried it but I wasn't very good."

"It's urgent," Paul stated with a little more edge. How old was this kid? She couldn't have been more than thirteen.

There were a few beats of silence. "Is Percy okay?"

"I just need to speak to Chiron."

After another minute of going back and forth with the girl, he finally got her to go find the centaur. Chiron greeted him breathlessly, making it obvious that he had hustled to get to the call.

Without much of an introduction, Paul jumped straight to the point. He asked if Percy was at the camp. He held his breath as he waited for an answer. Please say yes, he's just a stupid teenager that doesn't know how to park a car properly and in a way that isn't illegal.

"He's not with you?"

Paul's heart dropped into his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter. He let out a ragged sigh. "No, I got a call from the towing company..."

Chiron sighed heavily on the other line. "I figured he and Annabeth visited you and Sally. Jason, Piper and them went out for lunch. They told me Percy was taking Annabeth out somewhere when they returned." He thought aloud, his voice heavy.

Percy's stepdad closed his eyes. "Annabeth is gone too?" He was too exhausted to be embarrassed with the voice crack in the middle of his sentence.

The call ended minutes later with both sides being extremely frustrated and concerned. Not again. What could it be this time? The last war had practically ended only a year ago, and the wounds were still fresh on everyone's mind- the two teens were still plagued with nightmares.

They were going to wait to make a play until they told Sally.

Who, speaking of, had just strutted into the kitchen in a pair of shorts and one of his old ratty t shirts from a school homecoming game a few years back. She smiled at him but went straight to Chloe, jumping into a game of 'peek a boo.' If there was anything he loved about Sally it was how much she loved her family. Which made what he had to tell her next torture.

He finally worked up the courage five minutes into her drinking coffee and making faces at their daughter. He cleared his throat and tried to appear calm, for her sake. "Uh, Sally?"

"Yeah?"

How was he supposed to word this? "Hey! We're going to have to pay $300 in towing fees and your son is missing and maybe dead- again! Would you like some more coffee? "

"The towing company called... they said they picked up Percy's car yesterday." He winced as he said the words. They weren't as harsh as what went through his head, but the tasted bitter all the same.

Her eyes widened. She slowly moved the dark navy mug from against her chest to the table before wringing her hands together, worry lines etched across her forehead. She exhaled deeply. "Only Percy," she forced a chuckle, although he could see the tears already forming in her eyes. He said the final line before he lost the nerve. "I called camp... he's not there. Sally, I'm so-"

He trailed off when a silent sob racked her body. He stood and enveloped her into a hug, allowing her to cry into his shoulder.

"Where was it?" she sniffled. "The car?" He explained that he hadn't had the time to call the towers back yet, but it had been at least 48 hours. He rubbed her back. His heart broke, and he silently prayed for his step son's safety.

She took a deep, ragged breath and pushed him back. A frown appeared upon her red cheeks. "Why hasn't Annabeth- she would've known he was gone...?"

Paul grimaced, which was all Sally needed to see to know that wherever he was, she was probably with him.

With the lack of attention, Estelle began to scream, shrill shrieks that cut through the thick silence in the house. Sally absentmindedly picked her up and rocked her.

Percy, Annabeth... where are you this time?

///////

"You ready?" Daisy asked as she gathered up a few scattered items around the Quinjet.

"No," Lincoln grumbled. She seemed unfazed by the rather rough landing they had just experienced- auto pilot worked plenty well for taking off and getting to wherever the hell this base was, but landing? Apparently hovering and lowering the aircraft into an underground hangar wasn't something you were supposed to try without proper training.

"Come on Eeyore, it's not that bad. There's good WiFi down here. And plus," she gently grabbed his forearm and pulled him towards her. "I'm here."

He softened at the hopeful look in her eyes and fought the urge to kiss her. "Let's go," he said finally, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

She grinned and pulled some switch to make the cargo hold open, revealing a team of agents waiting on the floor. They rushed in, giving him curious looks as Daisy led him off. Uneasiness passed over him as she led him towards a smaller door at the end of the hangar. He didn't belong here.

He followed her down a rather long hallway until she turned and pushed open a door to what appeared to be a training facility. Punching bags hung from the ceiling, weights were organized on the back wall, and there was padding on the ground to spar on. He didn't have the chance to finish his scan when he walked into a locker room.

"I'll be right back- I'm going to find us some dry clothes."

He had almost forgotten they were drenched. He stripped off his shirt while he waited and winced at his appearance in one of the mirrors hanging over the sinks. He had grown slim over the past couple of months, and the lack of sleep was evident by the dark bags etched under his eyes. His arms were red and itchy.

Damn poison oak.

Soon enough, Daisy was back in a tight fitting black top and athletic shorts. She handed him a top and a pair of sweats before pointing to the showers. "Feel free to use them if you'd like," she nodded as she headed towards the doors. "I'm going to go find Coulson. I'll be back in like, ten minutes. There's toiletries on the back shelf."

"Okay... um, thanks."

With those words, Daisy waved goodbye and slipped behind the door, leaving Lincoln alone.

$^#*×($[%&÷&$*%&×> $> $&%&÷>÷

"Hey, do you know where Coulson is?" Daisy called out to a passing agent. She had checked his office with no luck, and she had completly forgotten to grab a walkie before leaving the locker room. The man looked up at her with quizzical hazel eyes. "Last I knew he was in his office."

She shook her head. "Nope," she answered impatiently, popping the p. "Can you walkie him or something? Like, now."

The agent scrambled to unhook the device off of his waistband and requested his location on a direct line. She thanked him when they got an answer as she briskly jogged away.

"Coulson!" Daisy cried out as she yanked open the doors to the lab. He was leaning on a counter behind Bobbi, who was glaring at the monitor in front of her. She took a second to read the words in bold across the top while she made her way over to them. Results Inconclusive.

Looked like that DNA screening was going well.

Coulson looked surprised to see her. "Daisy. Is everything alright?" He gave her a once over when she nodded. Another thought crossed his mind. "Where's Lincoln? I heard the ATCU got involved as well. We need to talk about that."

"Taking a shower... and now?"

The director shrugged. "We're getting nowhere with this machine. Might as well."

Daisy began briefing him, and before they knew it, it had been nearly thirty minutes of conversation (and some arguing) about both the ATCU and the two teenagers a few floors down. Much longer than the ten minutes the dark haired agent had told her fellow inhuman.

Who, of which, had just peeked his head through the doors of the lab, his shoulders relaxing when he saw her. Coulson nodded at him when he trodded over, despite the uneasiness he felt around him. "Lincoln. Glad to see you safe."

Even Daisy flinched at the cold tone. But before he could respond, Daisy was in a frenzy. "Oh my- oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn't mean- I just got caught up here..." A small smirk found it's way on to his face. "It's fine, Daisy. I wasn't waiting that long anyway."

She sighed in relief. Lincoln shifted back and forth on the balls of his heels, extremely uncomfortable with the silence that filled the large lab despite several people working. Coulson wasn't the least bit concerned with trying to hide from scrutinizing him, head to toe, with judging eyes.

"Hey, Lincoln, right?" The girl sitting in front of him questioned. He confirmed it before she began again. "Agent Morse. You're a doctor, right?"

That question unnerved him for some reason, but he answered a truthful yes for it all the same. He was surprised to hear her ask him to review some data.

"Sure?" He obliged. "What is it?"

Coulson cleared his throat. "We believe we have one inhuman threat. His name is Percy Jackson. He can control water as far as we know- completely demolished my other plane."

Lincoln was confused. "So what do you need me for?'

It was Bobbi's turn to answer. "We can't get the system to confirm the blood sample as inhuman, and I don't know how the hell to check it manually."

She jumped out of the leather rolling chair and crossed her arms. "Good luck, I've spent hours on this."

Daisy, Bobbi, and Coulson watched, captivated, as the blonde headed visitor scrolled through files and information.

Lincoln frowned at the screen. "Run that through one more time?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed. His fingers hovered above the keys, twitching.

"What is it?" Daisy inquired, tilting her head to the side as she watched Bobbi play with the controls on whatever fancy machine they were using and she didn't understand. The computer beeped once more, but Lincoln closed the error message and looked through the data displayed on the screen. He shook his head before pulling up the blown-up image of the sample. He glanced back at her and pointed at the screen. "This? This blood isn't inhuman," he announced, causing a ripple of anxiety through the room. "But..."

"But what?" Coulson demanded when he trailed off.

Lincoln swallowed. "It's not human either."

Chapter Text

"Do you know how to make holy water?"

Annabeth sent him a sharp look, daring him to say the punch line. They had been sitting in the cell way too long, and her Seaweed Brain was getting bored. He smirked mischievously.

"You boil the hell out of it."

Annabeth groaned and threw a pillow over her ears. "I swear to gods Jackson, stop it with the jokes." If she had a quarter for every pun she had heard in the past five minutes... well, she'd have a lot of quarters.

"There's nothing better to do," he grumbled, flopping onto the white comforter of the bed. He picked at the Velcro of the wrist brace, wiggling his fingers. He was almost positive the fracture itself had healed already, but without nectar or ambrosia, the movement still sent an aching pain through his hand.

Annabeth watched him from the chair she sat at across the room. "Does it still hurt?" She nodded at his wrist.

Percy shrugged and rolled over so he was staring at the ceiling, throwing his good hand behind his head to prop it up. His girlfriend sighed at his stubbornness and squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying not to let her frustration build. Her mind wandered to all the summer homework she had to finish before senior year; not to mention the seventy thousand monuments and temples she still needed to design and overview for Olympus. All of which she couldn't do while trapped in a cell. Why she was thinking about this, while the biggest problem resting on their shoulders was being accused of terrorism and having their captors becoming increasingly suspicious of their lineage? Who knew. She obviously had her priorities set.

"Annabeth," Percy said sharply. She opened her eyes- which she didn't even realize she had closed- to see him giving her a concerned look.

His eyebrows popped up questioningly, with just a hint of panic in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she responded a little too quickly.
That's when she realized he had probably thought she was having some kind of flashback- her stomach dropped when he started to get up from the bed.

"Percy, seriously. I was just freaking out about all the stuff I have to do when we get out of here," she gestured for him to sit back down.

His expression was doubtful, but he never got a chance to argue. Behind him, an Iris message materialized, the bright colors almost blinding in harsh contrast to their monochrome surroundings. Annabeth jumped up from her seat, holding her hand out to block the light before grinning when Chiron's hardworn face appeared.

Finally.

Jackson shifted on the bed so he could see their old mentor. While the familiar face was nice, a shot of anxiety ran through him. What about the cameras in the room? If there was anything he wanted to avoid, it was exposing camp. It was bad enough his reputation dragged Annabeth down with him everywhere they went (exhibit a: their situation right now). He didn't need the rest of his friends getting injured or captured because of him.

Relief flooded over the centaur's face. "Percy, Annabeth. It's good to see that you are well."

Percy smirked, momentarily forgetting his dilemma. "More like good to see that we're alive, right? It took you long enough to check in."

Chiron gave a pained smile. Indeed, the demigod was merely joking, but this fact still didn't prevent a jolt of guilt to shoot through him. "More or less. What has happened? Where are you?" He was mildly concerned that it looked like a hotel room. If he and Jackson's family had panicked because the two decided to go on a spontaneous rendezvous without telling anyone...

"A government jail cell." Annabeth responded flatly.

All of the thoughts in Chiron's heads dissipated. Questions fluttered around in his head, but Jackson cut him off before he had a chance to speak them.

"Don't worry though, it's pretty comfy. They've only shot me twice."

"What?" Chiron said tightly.

"I broke an airplane too!" Percy announced with an enthused grin, eyeing the security camera watching them. "And my wrist, so that's cool too." Annabeth smacked him in the arm, effectively shutting him up in order for her to take control over the narrative and slow their mentor's heart rate.

The blonde began to explain the situation before Percy poked her, pointing at the camera blinking continuously, perched in the top corner of the room. Her grey eyes narrowed in thought. On one hand, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents already knew everything she'd tell Chiron... although they definitely didn't want to alert them of a possible rescue party, or camp.

But there's no reward without a little risk.

"They call themselves S.H.I.E.L.D.," Annabeth turned back to face the shimmering mist screen, figuring the most the government team could configure was that they had a reason to be on guard. "This guy named Coulson is the director, apparently."

"Annabeth-" Percy protested, glancing nervously at the security camera. She shot him a sharp look, but he didn't back down. He glanced at the door anxiously. "The more we keep this up the more they're going to question it. If they see it-"

"I know what I'm doing." Annabeth suppressed a roll of her eyes.

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

The rational part of her knew that she should consider his words, but the hit to her pride she just took ignited her anger like lighter fluid to a fire- and along with that, her stubbornness.

"They picked us up at the beach and drove us an hour or two out to some kind of cargo jet," she announced, glaring at Percy as she did so, challenging him to stop her. She was unsure where the sudden anger against him came from, but it blew up before she had a chance to evaluate it. Hopefully the fallout wouldn't be lethal. "I don't know where we are now, other than we're three or four hours out from there by jet. It's an underground base."

Percy's eyes flashed with some emotion she didn't recognize as his eyebrows furrowed together, the creases on his forehead becoming more defined. He looked betrayed. She whipped back to face Chiron to avoid it, who was nodding thoughtfully, pretending to not notice the painstakingly obvious tension in the room.

Chiron sighed. "S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, his heart sinking as he did so. He had heard of them. Luckily, demigods typically have been able to stay under their radar for larger issues... but now. Gods.

As if they were summoned, the loud clank that signified the opening of the heavy metal door greeted the demigods. Chiron was barely given a chance to react before Percy sprung up and slashed a hand through the mist, nearly tripping and falling in the process. Daisy, accompanied by two other agents and a timid Lincoln in the back filed into the cell uniformly, but the messy haired teen refused to turn around. His chest clenched as he hopelessly watched the vapor slowly dissolve , until there was nothing left to stare at but the honeycombed white walls. He expected himself to be hit with anger, frustration at the least, but the feeling never came. He felt blank.

"What, so you guys have magic Skype now too?" Daisy quipped, one eyebrow raised. She looked between Jackson's back and the unreadable expression on his blonde girlfriend's face. She had barely gotten a glimpse of what had actually happened, just that they were talking to someone who obviously wasn't in the room with them at the moment. Unless there was another teleporting blind Inhuman that was evil...

Heck, it could even be the same one. Gordon. Did anyone ever really die in this world of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Coulson didn't, at the least. Not to mention that she should be too. Dead, that is.

"Alright, ignore that question," she rolled her eyes when neither gave an attempt to respond. She was a bit confused to the unwavering tension between the two in the room. Last time she saw them, they were more than happy to be together. Heck, they separated them twice, and twice there was mass chaos. Had more happened than what Coulson informed her of the elevator incident? The agent was also disappointed in the lack of Jackson's quick retorts. It wasn't often she has someone to banter with, and she had been looking forward to it.

She shrugged it off as mere teenage angst and swallowed. "Anyone up for explaining why your DNA is only half-human?"

Percy took his time turning around, his face void of expression. His jaw clenched repeatedly; he glanced at his girlfriend for a second before returning to the unwavering focus on a spot on the wall behind Daisy- he made it quite obvious he wasn't willing to comment. Annabeth's head bolted up however, and her reply came fast. She laughed, first, surprising the agents. They would've expected more of a panic. "So now you're accusing us of being alien, like you?"

Daisy smirked, nearly laughing at the confused expression that briefly crossed over Jackson's face. He had been unconscious during that short discussion. "Sorry to inform you, Annabeth, but it's not just an accusation when we have physical evidence -science -backing us up. And whatever makes up the other half of your DNA strand, according to Lincoln here, isn't inhuman."

The curly blonde squinted in concentration. "Lincoln?" she questioned doubtfully, scanning over the tall blonde standing uncomfortably behind the rest of the agents. His short, cropped haircut reminded her of Jason's, although his face had a much softer look to it than her Roman comrade. He offered her a pained smile, as if he were the one who was currently being interrogated by uppity agents inside of a jail cell and ignored by his own ally.

It annoyed her.

"Lincoln's a doctor. Let's just say he's..." Daisy paused to send Lincoln a knowing look before continuing, "experienced with working with inhuman. Which you are not. And he would know."

She opened her mouth to respond, but under the scrutinizing glares of the agents in front of her and the silence from Percy, she failed to think of an acceptable, believable comeback. Her mouth shut, and a surge of discomfort ran through her as she realized her pride had landed them into a situation they certainly didn't want to be in... again. She found herself looking at Percy for help.

He didn't move. In fact, it was almost frighting how still he was. With his significant and often annoying ADHD, he was always bouncing on the balls of his feet or at least tapping his fingers against his leg. Now... nothing.

Annabeth must have really pissed him off.

Daisy continued to look at the demigods for a reaction, but both remained frozen where they were.

"That's alright. You have about ten minutes to come up with a good story, because we're going on a quick walk. Agent Davidson and James here will escort you," Daisy nodded. The two agents in question strode forward, taking their places behind the two demigods.

Lincoln watched the interaction with a sort of morbid fascination. When he had been told that the suspected terrorists were only seventeen, he was surprised, but he supposed the true shock of the fact that they were just teens came from actually seeing them. It felt so... wrong. These kids were in high school. Seniors, probably. He remembered when he was a senior... sure, he was inhuman, but he still had a relatively normal childhood. His parents were kind of messed up, considering, but all he really had to worry about at that age was whether or not he was going to be able to get into med school after they handed him his diploma, not to mention finding a date to prom as the quiet nerd.

It was sad.

Annabeth shot daggers at the burly man who wrapped a hand around her bicep. "A walk where?" she growled, the venom behind her words elevating the volatility of the room.

Daisy tsked as she motioned for the demigod's escorts to follow her with their prisoners in tow. The unfamiliar blonde man standing next to her looked uncomfortable when she gestured for him to start walking. "Ah, see, you didn't answer my question. So I won't answer yours."

The half-blood rolled her eyes and unwillingly marched along with the group, wherever they were going.

///

After walking up several flights of stairs, to which she was grateful that they took time in doing without any additional questions, their group began to splinter off. Agent James and Daisy broke off with Percy when they reached the right floor.

"That's it?" Daisy questioned incredulously when neither of them made a move to protest the separation. "You're not even going to argue about us splitting you up?"

Annabeth refused to meet Percy's eyes, anger at him substituting her mortification at her lack of sense in refusing to end the Iris message when he suggested she should. She didn't want to come to terms with the fact that she'd been wrong: especially when that mistake could cost them the secrecy of the camp.

Percy, however, seemed to have recovered from his mood earlier and bristled. From the agents' observations, however, he now seemed exhausted. His once glaringly sea green eyes were now dull, his lips drawn into a frown, much different from the snarky, confident teen they had seen earlier. "Where are you taking her?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly confident for the internal dread he was feeling, much unknown to any of the others. Guilt hit Annabeth like a bullet train, again. She was the one in the wrong, yet he still was fighting for her.

She was mortified. How could she have acted so childish? Percy wasn't her enemy: they were a team. She felt her shoulders slump, and developed a sudden interest in the floor tiling.

Daisy smiled, relieved to see at least some reaction out of her favorite captee. "Lab," she announced. "We have some data we want to run through."

And so Annabeth went. The lab was beautiful: it certainly rivaled that of any she'd seen. The funds and technology underlying every part of the room were incredible; she was surprised to see how quiet it was. Beeping of monitors and whirring of printers were really the only noises besides the shuffling of the occasional person walking by. She wondered what the Hephaestus kids would think of it; Leo surely would go nuts with the programming and machinery. She frowned at the thought of her friend as she followed Daisy past a plethora of weaponry lying haphazardly on a large wooden table pushed against a short wall, those not unlike the one May had used to shoot her boyfriend. Her mind snapped back to Percy.

Worry coursed through her. She wished she had asked where they were taking Percy when she had the chance. He hadn't seemed the most stable when they led him away; granted that was mostly her fault, but the stress of the situation and the lack of sleep he suffered surely were factors as well.

Guilt, sadness, worry. She was an emotional mess.

Annabeth had only a few seconds to compose herself before the posse stopped in front of an unorganized setup. Data flashed across the screen in bright green, contrasting against the black background in typical hacker mode style; illustrated diagrams scrolled down the left side, while an error message in red trumped over the rest of the screen. A high-tech microscope lay to the side, with several slides stained red scattered around. Annabeth assumed that the images pictured had to be high-resolution depictions of her and Percy's blood.

Delightful.

Bobbi, who had been sitting at the desk, sighed in relief when the group stopped by her. She leaned back in her chair and grimaced. "Thank god," she mumbled before squinting at Annabeth. "Annabeth, right?"

The curly blonde nodded, interested to see where this was going. She stood still as Daisy and Lincoln circled around Bobbi's position so that they were all facing her; she assumed it was an attempt to intimidate her.

It was cute how they tried.

"According to your grades, Annabeth, it seems you would have a pretty basic understanding of the cells, genomes, DNA, yes?" She didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "It's not difficult to understand, really. Pyrimidines pair up with purines and vice versa? Chromosomes? Cell structure?"

No, it wasn't. Not when she spurted off vocabulary a seventh grader would know.

Daisy laughed at her annoyed expression.

It was then she launched into a full lecture on how the normal human DNA/cells should look, before transitioning to Daisy's. She pulled up a file, comparing the two images of a scan of a random normal agent's biology before the other that looked distinctly different. The demigod raised an eyebrow in question, confused at her purpose.

"This is Daisy's," Bobbi explained. "Daisy, as you know, is inhuman."

"You know, you guys keep saying 'inhuman'," Annabeth snapped, "But I still don't know what the Hades- I mean, hell you mean." She winced at the slip-up.

The short-bob snorted, sharing a quick knowing look with Bobbi. "Allow me to enlighten you. My DNA? Half-normal person, like Bobbi or Agent James, and half alien."

"Half-alien." the half-blood dead panned.

"Ever heard of Norse mythology? Or Thor? Have you been living on this earth?" Daisy asked. "This really shouldn't be that new. Blue people came down, new race, powered people."

Um, it certainly was new. Blue people? What the Hades was that supposed to mean?

"Which is why we assumed that you and Percy must have been inhuman," Agent Morse went on to explain. She pointed out the distinct differences between human and inhuman DNA and cells on the screen, which were clear. They fascinated Annabeth as a student, but scared her at the same time. This wasn't going in the direction that she hoped.

"Now here's where we run into a problem," Bobbi articulated, clicking her tongue as she slid the two images onto a different monitor to make room for a live image of the sample currently under the microscope she had set up. "All of the research that we've done on inhumans in the past year has made us decently experienced in the nature of identifying one by their biology. And if you look here, at your your blood, it looks nothing like either of the other two samples. So what we want to know, is why?"

Annabeth shifted on her feet as evryone's eyes bore into her. This was an uncomfortable topic that she had never had to bluff about before. She swallowed and shrugged. "We're special," was her elegant reply.

Daisy tapped her fingers on the end of the desk and hummed. "Mack asked you some questions on the way back from the beach. One of them was about your mother? Can you repeat what you told him?"

Surely she was kidding? There was no way they suddenly arrived at this conclusion already.

"How am I supposed to remember? I don't even know who my mom is."

"Hint: you said she was a Greek goddess."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that was a joke. You guys understand the concept of jokes, right?" Adrenaline coursed through her veins. This was not happening. There was no way that they could assume something so grand from just a small change in DNA- mythology was supposed to be just mythology to these people: how might they have guessed to the right answer?

Bobbi turned back around to face her monitor. "Let me show you something else, Annabeth," she said as she clicked around a database in search of a specific file. The tall agent finally found it, entering in a password before an image was displayed on the screen. She shifted it so that it sat next to her own data.

At first, Annabeth saw no tangible correlation between the two. But that was before Bobbi used the mouse to rotate the model so that- to her horror- it looked eerily similar to hers.

She prayed it was Percy's.

"This is DNA we gathered from an Asgardian friend of ours during their visit on Earth."

"Asgardians?"

Agent James took the opportunity to speak. He had not been able to follow the scholarly conversation up to this point: he was just the body guard. His brown eyes lit up with excitement at something he recognized. "Thor, Loki, Odin: Norse gods. From Norse mythology." The other two agents glanced at him and suppressed laughter.

"Norse mythology," Daisy repeated, a underlying tone of amusement in her words. "Meaning, Athena? Jackson's sword? Fitz did some detailed reports on Riptide, you know. Anaklusmos has a pretty interesting history in Greek mythology."

"Those are some pretty drastic conclusions."

"Monsters, gods, Hades, Hera. All of that terminology? You don't get that from just being a Greek enthusiast."

"We haven't-"

"Look at your boyfriend's complexion! He's obviously of Greek descent! And his scars? What are those from? Why did he heal so quickly from the I.C.E.R. wound?"

Annabeth was shell-shocked,speechless. Unconsciously, she had slowly begun to back away from the scene, sensing the group's growing impatience. She searched her head for any halfway decent rebuttals, but came up empty. Her mouth went dry at the mention of Percy's scarring; they must have seen the thick white marks when he switched shirts. The memories poked at her wavering resolve.

"Annabeth, come clean. You two are not human. You're something more."

A shiver ran through the teen, visible to the group. "Stop," Lincoln called out to Daisy, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He didn't like the situation. Here they were, interrogating a teenager. Annabeth's strong posture and determined face were deceiving, but he'd seen it upon himself to know that fear still ran free behind the mask.

"Daisy, can I talk to you?" he blurted out suddenly. In an uncharacteristically bold move, he grabbed her hand and led her towards the back of the lab, somewhere where the blonde girl wouldn't be able to hear. If he was going to be here as a part of S.H.I.E.L.D., he wanted to do something. But he most certainly was not going to help in the torturing and interrogation of high schoolers.

If they expected him to? He was leaving.

>>><<<

Chapter Text

They took him to a torture chamber.

Or so it seemed. Percy's eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, which starkly contrasted that of the brightly lit hallways they had spent minutes meandering through to find the unassuming door, tucked away in a leg of the labyrinth of a building.

The room reminded him of the Maze itself, which was obnoxiously large for the thin desk seated across the singular chair illuminated in the center, the metal of which gleamed menacingly, like the jowls of a rabid stray. The edges of the space were undetectable; shadows vignetted the area. He scoffed at the setup. The dentist's chair, clearly altered to cause as much discomfort as possible, was tacky enough; but the purposeful lack of lighting? Was this supposed to intimidate him?

He considered making the comment aloud, but his argument with Annabeth had left him drained- not to mention the anxiety coursing through his veins. For one, they took her to a lab to do who-knows-what. There would be no way for him to protect her should something happen. Of course, she was practically Einstein and could judo-flip anyone at a moment's notice (he knew this from experience, unfortunately), but it would still ease his nerves to know she was all right. Furthermore, his stomach swam with the sick feeling that Chiron's Iris-message was bound to have disastrous consequences.

Coulson frowned as he narrowed his eyes at the scruffy haired teen, who had frozen three paces into the interrogation chamber. The heavy steel door shut with a thud behind him and his escorts, the slight sliver of light the outside corridor provided scurrying out with it. The boy's bright, sea-green eyes were squinted in focus at something, although Coulson was nearly certain that that "something" was nothing more than a random point on the back wall. His face was easy to read, surprisingly; the kid's dark eyebrows were furrowed together, his lips drawn in a thin line. It was unclear if the source of the boy's evident worry was his current situation or not, but it was certainly there.

The agents who had led him in made eye contact for further instruction. The director signaled for them to get Jackson into the chair, so that they could begin their process. He wasn't sure if the entirety of that message was translatable from the simple nod he gave, but the response given sufficed.

"Jackson, chair," Agent Phillips commanded gruffly, his deep voice betraying his height. The alleged terrorist didn't react- in fact, it was although he hadn't even heard him, which was seemingly impossible. The man's booming voice bounced off the thick walls.

"Jackson. NOW."

Nothing.

"Alright," the loftier agent snapped, reaching for the captive's upper arm. Percy remained in a trance, up until the point the S.H.I.E.L.D. worker's cold fingers wrapped around his bicep. He snapped.

Without a word, the tanned teen's hand gripped the man's, ripping it off as though it burned him. The agent barely had the chance to cry out in pain before Jackson's elbow reeled back behind his head, his fingers curled into a fist instantly despite the rigidness of the brace. The previous look of uncertainty had completely dissipated in seconds, now replaced by an almost bored expression.

Percy's fist never did make contact- he never swung. His mind had clicked back into the present, away from the raging thoughts of his girlfriend and home. But, despite this, his jumpiness caused the few men and women that scarcely filled the room to leap to action in an attempt to contain him.

"Sorry," he mumbled to his almost-victim before a rather large man sporting a light stubble grabbed the arm he was lowering and launched him backwards without a second thought, which was impressive considering Jackson weighed quite a bit, being as built and tall as he was. His mass offered no resistance against the force. An involuntary yelp escaped the teen's lips when his back slammed against the arm of the metal chair, in addition to a bark of disapproval from Director Coulson; the act had been the definition of a late hit. An agent standing next to Coulson winced audibly as their prisoner hit the floor.

"What the hell, man?" Percy demanded, choosing his words carefully despite his anger. He picked himself off the frigid concrete floor. His eyes darted to the metallic contraption next to him before he turned to glare at the director, who was preoccupied in sending the agent responsible a message of disapproval with a sharp look. Phillips shook his head as well, although his arm now ached.

Percy's eyes flitted over to said agent. "It's a reflex, okay? You don't need- ahh," he paused, shaking out his braced wrist and mumbling a few choice words before continuing- "You don't need to fucking throw me like that."

"Watch your language," the director narrowed his eyes, sounding a little too fatherly for his own taste.

"Watch your agents," Jackson retorted, glancing down at the gleaming surface of the chair. He eyed the headrest suspiciously before adding, "I suppose you want me to sit in this, right? Nice design, what twisted section of IKEA did you find this beaut?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He plopped into the seat before cocking his head, meeting Coulson's eyes in a challenge and ignoring the throbbing pain in his back. He figured the more he could distract himself from the familiar feeling, the better. Of course, he was pissed as well. He'd been tossed around long enough in his life to know he didn't like it. His entire body buzzed with overflow.

"I love the whole setup you've got going on," Jackson offered, nodding as he pretended to inspect the room. "I mean, the dark room, people behind the desk, creepy-ass dentist's chair... did you steal this design from some '80's action film? All you need now are some heat lamps; you could put one right there, there..."

One or two of the people in the room snickered under their breath, fueling Percy's confidence. The agent who had pushed him, whose badge read Gardner, scoffed. "I liked it better when he wasn't talking."

Percy's eyes snapped to his, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah? Well, maybe if you got your head out of your-"

"Okay," Coulson cut him off, moving to a seat behind the desk the teen had referred to.

"Why are you letting him talk like that?" the agent demanded, not hiding his agitation as he threw an accusatory finger in Jackson's direction.

Percy smiled coyly. "Aw, did I hurt your feelings, Blondie?"

"Listen up, shithead-"

"Gardner!" the Coulson bellowed, snatching the agent's attention before he had a chance to sock the kid, who was looking terribly proud of himself for drawing out such a reaction. "Take a walk," the director instructed, gesturing towards the door.

"Sir-"

"That was an order," Coulson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Half of this new director gig was babysitting.

The man's face flushed- with anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell- and huffed before glancing back at their convict. "Buh-bye," Jackson said with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck you," the hefty blond sneered before marching out of the room, the clacking of his heels on the concrete the only noise in Percy's smug silence. Light filled the room for only a moment before the heavy door clanged shut, leaving only Agent Phillips, Coulson, Percy and the three data analysts.

"That was way too easy," Jackson laughed. "I have a five-year old neighbor who throws less tantrums than that guy. Maybe he should join your force; he's got a family to support."

Coulson just stared, resisting the urge to have Bobbi take over the interrogation. If she could handle Hunter, she may be able to handle this cocky kid. "Miranda, please do... whatever you need to do to get us started here."

"Yessir," the agent said quickly as she pushed herself away from the monitor. Her sleek black hair bounced as she strode over to the chair, glancing cautiously at the teen's curious expression before kneeling to snap the restraints around his ankles, and then his wrists. He flinched when she slid the pulse oximeters over his finger; as soon as she stepped back, finished, he shuddered forcefully. The small analyst jumped backwards in alarm when he yanked his arms back violently against the restraints. The two back at the desk shared a look of interest before recording the spike in the heart rate now displayed on their computers. Coulson watched as the teen inhaled sharply before squeezing his eyes shut, suddenly silent. A second or too passed before they opened again. Jackson shifted in the seat before his lips quirked up half-heatedly, as if his moment of panic hadn't occurred at all. "We gonna do this, or what?"

Coulson sighed, deciding to ignore the small episode. "What you're sitting in is a highly sophisticated polygraph system, which is programmed to take measurements of your blood pressure, skin conductivity, pulse, respiration, and brain activity. A camera here-" he stopped to point out a lens sitting on the table- "tracks every facial movement-"

"Wow," Percy whistled, interrupting. "How long did it take you to memorize all of that?"

"-Every detail is recorded to a tee. Even the best can't lie their way out of this, so don't- what are you doing?" the director stopped as he watched the teen stick his tongue out in his direction, in addition to several other ridiculous faces.

Percy crossed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. "You said your fancy camera 'tracks every facial movement,' so I thought 'Why not?'"

The agent seated next to Miranda pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god," he mumbled briefly. "How old is this guy?" he whispered to his partner.

Coulson ignored their conversation and asked a few basic questions to the comedian first, to establish standards for his tells. Getting him to tell his first lie wasn't difficult when he commanded for him to recite his full name.

He was pretty sure "Perseus Danger Jackson" wasn't it.

They went in circles for several minutes before the director began setting ultimatums. Sticking Jackson in his own, solitary cell without Chase seemed to break his shell.

"Okay, fine," Percy huffed in response. "I'll play nice."

"And answer without the usual level of sarcasm? I'm not bluffing here, Jackson."

It physically pained the demigod not to retort "Only if you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid," but he knew he was at the man's tipping point. And if he really had the authority he said he did...

Well, that's why it was better to make jokes and not think about it.

Coulson sighed in relief when the teen nodded. "Alright, let's get right to it then. You live in Melville, New York? With your mom, step-dad, and sister?"

Percy nodded.

"You have to say 'yes' or 'no,'" the male technician spoke up, his eyes trained on the data sprawled across the screens.

"What about 'si'?" the scruffy haired boy asked, squinting. He swallowed when Coulson sent him a warning look. "Okay, yes."

"She's your half-sister."

"Yes," Jackson bristled, fidgeting in the seat. "You've asked all these before, don't you want to know my favorite color or something?"

"Do you know who your father is?"

"I've told you this already," Percy stalled. Coulson crossed his arms, his dark-blue sport coat wrinkling under the action.

"Yes or no."

"Yes, I have told you this already. On your stupid plane. In the cell downstairs. He left me and my mom before I was born, and then my mom met Smel- Gabe Ugliano-"

"Yes. or. No. Do you know who your biological father is?" Coulson raised his voice, his tone threatening. Percy clenched his jaw, meeting Coulson's eye.

"No," the suspect insisted, but he didn't get very far. Agent Miranda's head shot up. "He's lying."

Percy's heart dropped. He was lost; how was he supposed to know what to say to this? He was trained to fight monsters: to slash, dodge, stab. Not to answer questions about Olympus while strapped to whatever weird futuristic lie detector machine he was in.

Where was Annabeth when you needed her.

He took a shaky breath as he watched the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. nod thoughtfully. "Fitz said something about you being Greek. Thoughts on that?"

"Maybe," he answered quietly.

"Yes or-"

"Yes, gods!" If they said 'yes, or no' one more time...

Couslon smiled. Now they were getting somewhere.

"Gods?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows as he continued to corner Jackson. He and the team had had an extensive meeting over their two newest captives after Lincoln's analysis of the blood sample; he didn't want to believe that Greek gods could possibly exist, but the information added up. The two's strange phrasing: gods, 'Hades' as substitution for hell, mentions of Tartarus? Jackson's Greek weapon with magic properties, his powers? And most convincingly, the fact that the two's DNA looked eerily similar to that of an Asgardian demigod. If Norse mythology existed... what was stopping the Ancient Greeks from coming to light as well?

And to think, he thought that the world couldn't have gotten any weirder.

Percy, meanwhile, was beginning to feel extremely claustrophobic. The room seemed to have dropped ten degrees, the shadows lining the walls slowly crawling towards him. His back still ached, and the metal of the chair was like ice. His hand began to throb. There was no possible way these people could have figured out that he was a demigod. How the Hades was he supposed to answer a mortal asking whether or not his dad was a fucking Greek God? A mortal? Could he convince them he was in a cult, maybe? That could be a thing, right?

Turns out, no. The freaking lie detector they had set up did its job well. He may be able to slaughter monsters and beat Annabeth in combat, but he wasn't a trained liar. White lies, maybe he could handle. But not ones like these.

He tried to rationalize with himself as the director pushed more questions onto him. He barely heard them, the thoughts in his head were so loud. So what if they knew about Greek gods? He had powers, he was Poseidon's son, big whoop. They couldn't get too far with that.

"Are there more of you?" Coulson asked with surprising intensity after getting him to admit he was a Greek demigod. He didn't have a choice. They seemed like they already knew, with every creepy grin they gave when the machine showed he was lying.

Fuck.

Percy focused on the loop holes in that question. Were there more of who, sons of Poseidon? There was Tyson, but he wasn't a demigod.

"No," there aren't any more demigod sons of Poseidon.

Coulson looked at Agent Miller, the male technician, expectantly. But everything on the monitor screamed that their suspect was telling the truth. Coulson furrowed his eyes. That couldn't be right.

"Are there more demigods, Jackson? Besides you and Chase?"

Percy's eyes glazed over. He didn't know what these people planned to do with this information, but he sure as hell wasn't going to give up the rest of his friends. For them to have dragged Annabeth into this whole thing was enough. He didn't need more lives on his hands.

Time stopped as visions of men in black suits invading Half-Blood Hill sprung into his mind. The image was vivid; everyone in handcuffs, including the youngest campers... crying. Leo, Hazel trying to fight back only to be shot.

Home, gone.

His eyes squeezed shut to rid himself of the image, but the darkness behind his lids only morphed into the background of Tartarus, the pain in his back translating into the flashback.

"Tartarus, Percy. We're in Tartarus."

His mind spun as Annabeth muttered the words. No, that wasn't right.

"But, we found you. We were going to go home?" he furrowed his eyebrows together as he spoke, his tone as confused as he felt. His stomach flopped when she pulled away from the hug, his shoulder now wet with tears. Her eyes were filled with them. He opened his mouth to speak when another wave of sickness hit him; he turned as stomach contractions wrenched through his body; but he had nothing left to throw up. Tears of his own welled in his eyes, but more from pain as he spit a mix of bile and saliva onto the ground.

Annabeth absentmindedly rubbed his back, her heart clenching . She didn't even bother to check if the sticky dampness of his back was blood or sweat; she didn't want to know. She knew loyalty wasn't her fatal flaw, but it was hard not to feel guilty when the one reason Percy was down here was because of her. By refusing to let go of her, he had ultimately signed his suicide note.

She loved him so much.

A sob left her lips, despite her attempts to hide it. Percy turned towards her, his face screaming in pain, but he managed a smile anyway. He grabbed her face and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Hey, look. It's going to be okay. It's just Tartarus. Tartar sauce, right?"

"Percy-"

"No. It's you and me versus Tartarus, okay? Listen to me. The plan was to find you and your mom's creepy statue and go home. That's still the plan. We just have to go through this first."

"You and I."

Percy nodded, keeping his grip on her cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. It was almost possessive, and she loved it. She giggled, although it came out like more of a strangled croak. "No, you and I, Seaweed Brain. Not you and me."

His face was deadly serious. "As long as you're mine and here with me, I don't give a fuck what grammar says about it. And I'd kiss you right now, but I just threw up twice and I can barely see your face and-"

Annabeth released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Just hug me, then," she whispered. And he did. And besides herself, she smiled. In Tartarus.

Imagine that.

Jackson's breaths came out in short pants after Coulson's question, the confident aura once surrounding him now overcome by a darker force. The sheen of sweat on his face reflected the lighting back towards the table. Miranda turned to the director uncertainly, as if to ask what to do.

So this was what Mack had referred to when he mentioned the elevator scene.

It was uncomfortable to watch; seeing the pure panic on Jackson's tanned face, which looked ghastly in the lighting, was almost too much. At the same time, he was concerned it was a gimmick. The change in demeanor was suspiciously fast, and especially convenient.

"Coulson," Agent Miranda spoke up, her eyebrows drawn up in concern.

"His heart rate is almost at 200," the other announced.

"Is that bad?" Coulson replied, watching as the boy trembled where he sat. Miller turned to him incredulously. "His resting bpm was 85."

The director nodded. "So bad," he mumbled under his breath, feeling his own onset of panic. He'd seen PTSD victims before, but this... usually they were the upwards of thirty, forty, fifty years old. Not seventeen. Percy Jackson may be a terrorist, a demigod (which, what the hell, world? Was Norse mythology not enough?)... but he was still just a kid.

He acted on impulse, for better or worse. "Get him out of the chair," he directed, spinning towards the operatives. Neither moved, looking scared out of their minds. "Get him out of the chair!" he repeated, moving quickly to remove the restraints himself. Miranda moved to flip the lights on, while Miller helped the director lift the boy out of the chair and onto the ground; his skin was clammy and cold to the touch. A small part of him expected the teen to leap up and the first chance he got to try and escape, but his body merely crumpled to the ground, void of the life it had had just moments prior.

"Get Chase," he whispered to Miller as he stared at the trembling teen. He didn't know what to do.

God, what if Mack was right?

Chapter Text

Annabeth took a deep breath to calm herself, avoiding eye contact with the other agents at the blonde doctor's sudden outburst. The group glanced about each other, unsure of what to do after Lincoln had dragged Daisy away to the corner of the lab, just far enough away to where they couldn't hear. Agent James, the brawny guard, awkwardly cleared his throat after a few moments of silence. He seemed desperate to escape the stiff environment, as did Annabeth. Solutions raced through her mind, such as asking for a better explanation to the whole inhuman situation, or the fact that Norse gods joined the Greek and Egyptian for being more than just mythology... but her mind itched with curiosity about something less trivial.

This Lincoln guy. He seemed much too uncomfortable for S.H.I.E.L.D. to be his permanent career- his posture had seemed guarded, unsure. She hated pity, but the empathetic look in his tawny eyes piqued her interest rather than insult. She had a feeling that he could be an ally if need be.

Her stormy gray eyes slowly flicked over to her subject of interest. His back was to her; his motions had grown to be more animated, and Daisy's face continued to harden as their conversation- rather, argument- continued.

Their voices began to rise, but were quickly brought down to a more manageable level. Agent Morse whistled when she followed Annabeth's eyeline. "This should be interesting."

Agent James rolled his eyes, crossing his arms brusquely. "How long is that going to take?"

Morse grimaced, narrowing her eyes at the two agents across the room as they marched further away, clearly not wanting to be heard- and evidently not planning on resolutions anytime soon. She shrugged before turning back to Annabeth with a sigh, scanning her quickly.

"Are you going to talk at all?"

It took Annabeth a second to realize she was talking to her. The blond shifted, her eyes snapping back to the agent at the desk. Tendrils of oily hair fell in her face, which she forced back behind her ear. Her ponytail holder had broken earlier, and her blonde curls grew unrulier with every passing minute sans a brush.

"If you talk, it will make all of our lives easier," Bobbi lamented absentmindedly, turning back to the computer. Annabeth studied the woman in front of her, psychoanalyzing her before she realized she was doing it. By her bored, stern expression, she obviously didn't want to be here: not necessarily with Annabeth, but stuck in a lab. Her build was an easy indicator that she was not solely a scientist; no, her talents reached far beyond that- something had happened to limit her to lab work. She was a field agent. Her blonde hair was curled flawlessly, her eye makeup applied lightly but precisely. Someone had free time.

"You can ignore me, but I'm telling you right now: this is a lot of freedom we're giving you here. We have much more uncomfortable, invasive ways of doing this. Just ask your boyfriend," she muttered the last part under her breath; if Annabeth had been focused she may have heard it, but fortunately she didn't. She didn't need any more excuses to seem weak in front of these people.

"What do you want to talk about?" she spat, not in fear, but annoyance. "It seems to me you don't need my help. Our DNA matches Thor's. Whoop de freaking do. You're not taking Thor into custody and accusing him of terrorism."

Agent James smirked, raising a finger. "Actually, we did once. Of course, that was before he saved the world..."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Oh, so they'd be scot free if she told them about the Titan and Giant's War?

The blonde agent spun to face the teen, narrowing her blue, almost gray eyes. The familiarity of the color sent a wave of uneasiness crashing over her. "What we're saying, is that with the likelihood that you're a Greek demigod- and the universe is certifiably insane- you're dangerous. And your history is ample evidence of this."

"What history?" Annabeth nearly shouted, spreading her arms. "Even if that was true, what does our parentage have anything to do with this situation?"

James shot out a few gruff instructions for her to take a step back. Apparently she had appeared too threatening. She reluctantly complied, not moving her gaze from the lock it had with Agent Morse's, who was sneering smugly. She was proud to have gotten somewhere with this. Daisy had been right. Separating the two teens for interrogation was much more efficient than having them both distracting each other.

"They went over all of this in the Quinjet, did they not? The Arch, the gunfight, Greece... oh, and here's an obscure one. The movie theatre, right?"

Fitz had just turned in that intel a few hours ago. Apparently, there had been some explosion in a theatre during a showing of Big Hero 6. Surprisingly, there were no injuries: someone had pulled the fire alarm about eight minutes before the whole place went up in flames. Coincidentally, Jackson had purchased two tickets using his mother's card for that date and time... and the theatre had been minutes from his family's home.

Annabeth grimaced. They had already gone over this indeed- and she gave them the best explanations she could for each one as well. Well, all but the movies. They hadn't asked her about that before.

That situation was entirely Percy's fault. He just HAD to insist on leaving in the middle of the movie he had dragged her to for popcorn.

Who knew their old pal Chimera would disguise itself as concession stand worker? He was lucky he pulled the fire alarm when he did.

(A/N I lowkey want to write out this scene I've concocted in my head about this haha, should I?)

"Why is it so hard for you to understand that we were kidnapped?" Annabeth emphasized. "We didn't know what was going on, we were kids. All we knew is that the guy threatened to kill us and our families if we didn't do what he wanted!"

Bobbi decided to play along. "Why you two, though? It seems awfully coincidental that he picked up two kids with superhuman abilities."

Annabeth clenched her jaw. "I don't have powers. And Percy has never used his maliciously. Just because he has powers doesn't mean he wants to destroy everyone, when will you understand that?"

Little did she know, her words almost completely echoed that of Lincoln's argument. He was growing more frustrated by the minute. On the other side of the room:

"Daisy, how can you not see how this is complete hypocrisy?" he hissed. His eyes glowed passionately. It was a stark contrast to the shrunken persona he had been carrying around with him the first few hours "God, you're no better than the ATCU."

The dark haired agent glared at him defensively. "I'm sorry, I suppose these two would be better on the streets, blowing up and destroying more buildings!"

Lincoln grabbed onto his hair, practically tearing it out in annoyance. "Are you even hearing yourself? Daisy, are you seriously telling me that these two teenagers are enemies because they have powers and DNA you haven't seen before?"

Daisy opened her mouth to rebuttal before deciding against it, closing it. She heard her teeth "click" before shooting back, "What are you getting at?"

Lincoln huffed, turning his head back at the curly blonde standing next to Bobbi and the other agent he didn't recognize. He studied her fiery expression, messy hair, and rigid posture. It was all so familiar.

"People want us locked up and killed because we're different, Daisy," he said finally, meeting her determined brown eyes. "They blame us for the accidents that happen when people hunt us down. Don't do the same to them," he pleaded.

Daisy squinted up at him in concentration. It only took a second for realization to hit her. Her round eyes widened.

"Shit," she murmured, her voice admitting defeat. Guilt settled over her. Without another word, she strutted over to the group near the front. Lincoln followed. Annabeth stopped, mid-rant, curious about the conflicted expression on the inhuman's face. Daisy frowned at her.

"Do you have enemies?" she asked pointedly, getting straight to the point. She searched the teen's face for a reaction. Annabeth scoffed.

"Do I ever," she murmured before she could think better of it. Apparently, that was answer enough for the inhuman. The young woman whipped around to face Agent Morse.

She pointed backwards at the teen. "Call this off," she ordered.

Morse frowned. "Daisy-"

"No, I need to talk to Coulson before we go any farther with this," Daisy said, not leaving room for debate. "James, take her to the showers or something."

The muscled man laughed, nudging Lincoln's shoulder lightly. "Man, I don't know what you said, but I'm impressed."

The blonde smiled awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. Agent James lifted his chin at the captive. "Come on, let's go." The two left quietly. By the time they had rounded the corner, no longer visible through the glass walls, Bobbi exploded.

"What the hell was that?"

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Coulson watched the boy in front of him, his heart clenching as he searched for what it was he said that had set him off. It could have been brought on by the stress of the situation- he imagined it couldn't be easy for all of the seventeen-year old's elaborate lies to be uncovered all at once, so quickly. Then again, he couldn't be positive. The kid was strong and had kept up with their pace the past few days with surprising resiliency.

There was a reason these kids were suspected terrorists- and they weren't doing much to help their case. If this entire situation was truly a mistake, and the teens were completely innocent, he was sure that they wouldn't have gone through this process with such anger and bitterness. Or would Jackson had been willing to offer so much of his beloved character. No, the average New York high schooler would be petrified. They would have broken down much sooner than this. And to think that they were clueless about the existence of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Inhumans, even? The two names had been plastered over every new station globally since the attack on D.C.

Something was up.

Something was desperately wrong as well. The teen was hyperventilating and had pressed himself up against the wall; his feet kicked as he tried to dig farther into it. It reminded Coulson of the videos of sleeping puppies, running from imaginary threats or chasing toys in their dreams. Of course, the scene in front of him was much less innocent. Jackson's eyes were shut tightly in a way that was surely going to give him a stress headache later.

The director tentatively kneeled beside him. He frowned. The kid's eyes darted frantically under his eyelids. This close, he could make out a subtle scar running under his left eye. Another crossed his jaw. Coulson squinted, and with a wave of uneasiness realized that they had to have been the result of some sort of blade.

The demigod mumbled something. His feet stopped thrashing. The tall, suited man watched with intrigue as his body suddenly tensed. Percy cried out suddenly, his face contorting in pain before inhaling deeply.

"Are there more demigods?" he had asked. Why had that caused this?

"Sir, they released Ms. Chase to the showers a few minutes ago."

Director Coulson spun around, ripping his attention away from the boy at the sound of Agent Miranda's voice. "Why?" he asked, genuinely confused- and a bit annoyed. "I told them to hold her in the lab until I came."

The petite analyst shrugged, her bright blue eyes flickering between the captive and the director. "I don't know, Daisy said something about wanting to... uh, is he breathing?" she cut herself off, her eyes widening in surprise. Coulson whipped around. To his own shock, the teen's face was turning blue; his chest had ceased to rise and fall. His heart was still beating, by the rapid pulsing behind his ear,

His first instinct was to grab the kid's arms and shake him roughly. It had no effect. Percy's body shuddered violently when he released his grip.

"Go get Chase, now," he commanded, surprising even himself when his voice broke. "Get her up here," he nearly yelled with a new sense of urgency. The black-haired woman turned to scurry out of the room, but not before their victim slumped over from lack of oxygen. The blueish tint that had overcome him slowly began to recede from his face as his body set itself to auto-pilot in his unconscious state.

"Miranda, wait!" he called her back. He cautiously turned his gaze away from the messy haired boy, his hair of which was matted to his forehead with sweat. He debated about whether or not he wanted to move him downstairs.

"Yeah, bring her up. Please," he decided after a second of silence. Miranda left, and he stood. When he looked down, the limp figure on the ground suddenly seemed much smaller.

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Annabeth had forgotten how disgusting the showers were.

She figured S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't need to try to impress it's captives and criminals, but there had to be some sort of restrictions for just how much bacteria and mold could grow on the walls. Seriously; this was worse than Percy's cabin, and that place qualified as a hazardous wasteland. He always begged her for mercy when she was in charge of cabin checks.

He always ended up getting a point or two higher than he deserved. What? Give a girl a break, Percy's a good kisser.

Her mind snapped back to the muck. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of an option. She glanced down at cheap bag of goodies they had given her: a towel, ridiculously thin flip-flops, a set of plain, dark grey cloths, a comb, and the typical shampoo, conditioner, and bar soap. It wasn't glamorous, but at least it was something.

She struggled with the flimsy curtain, unsatisfied with the lack of security it provided. She hesitated before stripping off her top and shorts she had been wearing before flicking on the water. She fiddled with the curtain one last time before biting the bullet and pulling off her undergarments. Annabeth inhaled deeply before stepping under the stream of water, the cold cutting her to the core.

There was no hot water down here.

Her body adjusted to the temperature quickly, and she lifted her head to allow it to run over her hair and down her body. She absentmindedly began to run through her usual routine, cursing when she remembered she couldn't shave. They didn't trust her with a razor, which was smart in retrospect but annoying for the time being. Her mind raced with thoughts.

S.H.I.E.L.D. knew they were Greek demigods. How exactly they came to that conclusion so quickly... well, she had misjudged them. They obviously weren't the typical government agency. They had claimed they had multiple encounters with those from Norse mythology.

That in itself was a shock. How could something this big exist without their knowledge? How did Thor and Zeus exist in the same universe? Percy was going to be thrilled to hear about that development; he had spent days trying to wrap his mind about the Egyptian spectrum of weird and weirder.

The real question that remained, however, was what the organization was going to do with this information- that she and Percy were demigods, the Greek mythology was real. From the current chain of events, they were about ready to lock them away forever. They were "dangerous" to society.

Percy certainly didn't help their cause by trying to fight his way through them the moment he woke up. That certainly wasn't his smartest move- she could file that away under the never-ending list of Seaweed Brain moments.

And what about camp? They had no idea where they were, not to mention that the base was seething with agents. It was one thing for Chiron to know they were missing and to have a brief understanding of what had happened, but a rescue seemed unlikely. Even if their friends managed to find them, the base had no shortage of weapons, if that one table in the lab was any indication. She doubted all of their guns lacked real bullets.

Which led her to think, should she have listened to her boyfriend about the whole Iris message ordeal? On one hand, their only chance of escape seemed to rest at the hands of people on the outside. There was no way the two of them could make a break for it inside a compound swarming with guards. It wasn't a movie; it wasn't possible. If gunfire started, they wouldn't be able to dodge the bullets; and they'd end up right back where they started, or worse.

The other half of her drowned with dread. By prolonging the conversation with Chiron, the agency was sure to ask about allies. Not to mention she was the reason she and Percy were separated at the moment.

She began to worry, but her thoughts were cut off when her fingers snagged a knot in her hair. She cursed in pain when the cheap conditioner did little to work it out; the cheap comb snapped at her attempts to untangle it. She left it with a sigh.

How did this happen? Of all the things, were she and Percy really going to meet their demise at the hands of mortals? And, well, the weird half-alien/inhuman thing Daisy had going on.

There was a sudden banging. She nearly slipped.

"Ms. Chase?" A feminine voice called out timidly. Annabeth shut the water off quickly in order to hear before quickly wrapping the ratty towel around herself.

"Yeah?" she answered back, unsure of what was happening. She hadn't thought she had taken that long if that's what this was about. Last time they just had a guard standing outside to take her back to the cell when she was done. Perhaps they were getting pushier.

"The director wants you upstairs as soon as possible," the voice said. "I'll escort you when you're ready."

Okay, what the hell. Really?

Though, she couldn't say she wasn't flattered by the attention. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. himself wanted her company.

Ha.

To make a point, she made it an ordeal to get decent. He could wait. She wrung out her hair and changed into the dark grey scrubs. They were a size too small and uncomfortably tight around her chest; the pants were long enough but squeezed her thighs unnaturally. She picked at the material for a minute or two before slipping on the cheap sneaker shoes they provided. She tugged at the knot in her hair after she finished, wondering how long she could stall before they got overly pissed.

"Chase," the agent ushered more urgently. Annabeth smirked. "Almost done!" she yelled back, wrapping her damp curls into a bun on top of her head. In all honestly, she'd been done for five minutes. She leaned into the mirror and picked at a pimple forming on the side of her nose.

The director was running on her time now.

"Look," the director's minion cried out once more. The pleading tone managed to snag Annabeth's attention. "I don't even know if I'm supposed to tell you this, but the black-haired boy?"

Annabeth froze.

"He's having some kind of panic attack, and-"

Miranda didn't get the chance to finish her sentence before the curly blonde whipped open the door with passion. She stepped out, her heart in her throat.

"Take me," she breathed out. She towered over the small agent, who nodded and winced before briskly leading the way. Miranda led them towards the elevators; Annabeth didn't bother to correct her. She didn't want to waste any time, not when Percy was... gods.

She steadied her breathing as the metal box began to count upwards, focusing on the fact that she needed to get to Percy. Memories clawed with a vengeance at the weak wall she had put up; she pinched herself to the point of pain to keep them at bay.

The small, lean brunette looked worried at Annabeth's tense state.

"Are you okay?"

The curly blonde nodded nervously, closing her eyes before breathing in deeply. "Uhh, no," she winced as unwanted images flashed in her head. Before she had a chance to hate herself for the break in demeanor, the elevator doors slid open slowly, as if to mock her. She scrambled out of the box of death as quickly as she could, sighing in relief.

"Where?" she demanded. The petite agent motioned towards the end of the hall. As they strutted through the seemingly ending array of corridors, several thoughts poked at Annabeth's resolve.

For one, the building reminded her a lot of the Labyrinth. There were a lot of turns that she had been too distracted to memorize. Which wouldn't help in the need of an escape, which would be probable if her second thought was correct.

There was definitely a possibility this was some kind of trap. To lead her somewhere unknown without resistance? Seemed like a good deal for them at least.

She didn't dwell too much on that, however, because by then she and Miranda had reached what she assumed was their destination. Miranda gave her one last look of pity before pushing open a thick metal door with a grunt.

Annabeth's vision locked on the chair first. Her heart fell as her eyes landed on a lanky man manning a table full of blinking monitors in front of it, who's badge she could barely make out as Miller with her dyslexia. She began to back up tentatively, ready to run.

"Chase," Coulson called softly, beckoning her attention. Her eyes snapped to the noise.

And then her heart shattered.

She rushed over to her boyfriend's limp form against the wall and kneeled. His face was scrunched up in fear, glistening in the artificial light with sweat. He trembled at random intervals. His hands were in fists, his knuckles white.

How long had he been like this.

"Ten, fifteen minutes? He was out for a good three or four, though. " The director answered, shocking the teen. She hand't realized she'd said that out loud. She made eye contact. The hard eyes he had possessed were gone, replaced with sympathy. She narrowed her eyes.

Wasn't he the entire reason they were in this fucking situation? What was he doing, pretending like he actually cared?

Annabeth bristled. "Get the hell away from him," she seethed, instinctively moving herself closer to Percy as she did so. Her boyfriend unconsciously flinched at the pressure of her body against his; without warning, a violent shudder ran through him and his hands flew out from his sides. His fists weren't focused or aimed, but the force still hurt a whole fucking lot. Annabeth gasped as the wind was taken out of her. Coulson backed up from Jackson, although Annabeth guessed that it was more in fear of getting hit than her own threat.

She doubled over, wheezing as she waited for her diaphragm to relax.

"What do you do when he stops breathing?" The director asked before she had a chance to sit back up, his voice laced with urgency.

"What?" Annabeth responded instantly. She forgot about the need to catch her breath and straightened. Horror flushed through her when she realized that the man was right: Percy was turning blue.

His flashbacks hadn't been this bad in months.

The first time it had happened it scared the literal Hades out of her; she and Grover had carried him to the beach, thinking the water would snap him out of it like it usually did, but it had only made it worse. Which, after she knew exactly what it was about, made sense...

Kissing him didn't work; he was one hundred percent unresponsive. The only solution they had found was dumping nectar down his throat. It took too long for them to figure that out; he woke up without memory of what had triggered the episode, which only freaked him out more (thanks Hera)...

Annabeth's heart raced; she wasn't even sure it was beating, it was going so fast. If they didn't wake him before he fell unconscious, he'd just relapse into the same memory when he woke up again... or, just continue to not breathe. They didn't have nectar here. They needed some kind of stimulant, something to jump start his system...

"Adrenaline," she burst out, mentally blessing Will for going over medical procedures to entertain her after her own visit to the camp infirmary. "You've got to have that in your lab," she determined, her face stony with determination. She turned to Agent Miranda. "A shot of adrenaline, now," she ordered, not minding the fact that the woman's actual boss was a foot away from her. Coulson looked like he wanted to disagree for the sake of not letting the prisoner decide the shots, but swallowed his words and nodded at his agent instead.

The agent flew out the door as Miller looked on uncomfortably. If Coulson wasn't so worried about the current situation on his hands, he would have felt guilty for forcing the girl to run around the base for the past ten minutes as his other agent stood there idly.

But, there were more pressing matters.

Annabeth swallowed. She pried open one of Percy's hands and put it in her own, almost regretting it when it tightened immediately; she was afraid her own might break. Her boyfriend's stomach spasmed repeatedly as his body desperately tried to get air into his lungs, sending tears to her eyes.

If this was any testament to how royally Tartarus could fuck up a person.

"You said he already passed out earlier?" Annabeth choked out, meeting the director's eyes. He looked like he might cry himself.

"He did the same thing he's doing now," Coulson explained hopelessly. His eyes were trained on the girl now. Her body quavered relentlessly. He didn't know what trauma these kids had gone through before they arrived here, but he didn't know how any seventeen year old could successfully handle watching their best friend, significant other, a stranger even, stop breathing altogether.

He was thoroughly disturbed by the events unraveling before him, and he had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for nearly thirty years, been speared by Thor's adopted brother, and brought back to life with alien blood.

The door to the room opened with an alarming bang, catching everyone's attention. But it wasn't Miranda.

"Coulson, we need to- uh," Daisy stopped mid-sentence, her mental train of thought screeching to a halt at the sight in front of her. Annabeth's looked up frantically, her mask of strength completely dissolved by the time Quake and Lincoln had filed in.

"Do you have it?" she demanded. Daisy's eyes widened, confused. Percy Jackson was a crumbled- blue? - mess on the floor?

"DO YOU HAVE IT?!" The girl shouted. Her voice was thick with emotion. Her eyes shone with fear through a layer or tears that had not yet fallen. Daisy furrowed her brows, spinning to search Lincoln's face to see if he knew what the heck was going on.

He looked just as lost as she did.

"No, what-"

The blonde inhuman cut her off. "What's happening? What'd you do to him?"

Annabeth's heart clenched at anger in his tone. At least they had one ally in this.

The director stood up cautiously. "We were asking him questions-"

Agent Miller bit his lip innocently. "Well, technically we were interrogating him as he was strapped to a metal chair-"

"Is he not breathing?" Lincoln interrupted, striding over to the kid (If Coulson had a dime for every time he had heard that today). The teen's lips were void of color. The boy's girlfriend tensed, but upon making eye contact with the doctor, nodded. Giving him permission.

"We- he gets bad flashbacks," she murmured almost silently. Lincoln nodded, shaking the kid in an attempt to startle him awake.

"We need adrenaline; he won't wake up otherwise, trust me."

Lincoln met Annabeth's eyes. A look of understanding passed between the too without a word. The inhuman clenched his jaw before turning back to Percy, readjusting his grip on the kid's biceps.

"I'm going to shock him," he spoke almost reflexively. Annabeth opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't have the time. Electricity popped from the inhuman's hands. The current effectively jolted the teen awake. He inhaled deeply, thirsty for air before his eyes flashed open: bright, broken sea green.

Everyone released breaths they didn't know they'd been holding.

Annabeth instantly wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly into her. His arms were limp and didn't move from his sides, but she didn't care.

"Thank you," she whispered to Lincoln, too focused on comforting her boyfriend than worrying about the details of how or why he was able to do what he did. He only nodded, moving away from the couple to give them space. He motioned to the others to leave, but none of them moved. They were too enthralled with the show in front of them.

It took a few more seconds for Percy's mind to snap back into reality. And for him to start to cry.

Well, crying was putting it lightly. His grief started quietly: hidden, unknown. But it grew.

"Get out!" Annabeth commanded at the first choked sob. She might as well have been Piper with her charm-speak; without complaint, the occupants slowly filed out. The entrance closed with a heavy thud. The agents seemed to have forgotten that the two on the cold concrete floor were the prisoners, not them.

The four didn't speak after the door shut. Daisy spoke first.

"Coulson, we need to talk about this."

He didn't even hesitate. "I know."

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Percy fell into her, the room silent between his broken cries. It was the horrible, ugly sobbing that hurt to hear, that tried so desperately to release the internal pain. She rubbed his back as he continued, not bothering to try and stop her own tears any longer. Percy had seen her at her worse, she didn't care.

They stayed like that for ten, twenty minutes before he finally calmed down. They had moved so his head lay in her lap as she sat up against the wall; his face was red and blotchy. She ran her fingers absentmindedly through his hair and waited for him to speak first. She didn't want to push him. She hated to say it- she hated to think it- but he was fragile in this state, and she had to be careful not to say anything that could set him off again.

Percy Jackson may have saved the world twice. He may be the strongest demigod in the modern era, the greatest swordsman. But he was human.

She could barely hear him when he spoke. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"No, Percy, no... you don't have to be sorry for anything," she spoke gently. She remembered in Tartarus- she had been a disaster the entire time. She was ashamed to say that she had completely lost hope. She thought that trying to survive was completely pointless; why outlive one monster only to suffer at the hands of the next? Percy was the only reason she made it out, and he shouldn't have been down there in the first place. He was the only motivation she had. She had stood to the side and just cried as she watched him fight every monster she had ever read about.

She was useless down there, but he refused to let her think that. "You don't have to be sorry for anything."

So she echoed his words.

He was silent, and she worried that she chose the wrong words until he spoke again.

"I haven't... that hasn't... the last time was in February," he said finally, his voice hoarse. "I know this is bad."

She nodded thoughtfully. It was. They had made a lot of progress since then; this whole 'being kidnapped by the government' thing was sending them back quite a while. The elevator scene was bad, but she never would have expected it to get this intense again so soon.

"What happened?"

He went through the events of what had happened since they were separated, though he skipped the entire getting-thrown-into-the-chair detail; even as exhausted and out of it as he was, he was smart enough to know that it would only unnecessarily anger her.

"And... they know we're demigods. And then..." he swallowed nervously, "he wanted to know if there were more... of like, us."

"Demigods."

"Yeah."

Silence filled the room again. Annabeth looked down at her boyfriend, who had closed his eyes. Her eyes shifted to the steady rise and fall of his chest, which she took relief in. She watched almost obsessively, terrified that if she looked away it'd stop.

Minutes of quiet passed, and she had long since assumed that he had fallen asleep. That's why she was so startled by the sudden, "You smell nice."

"Hmm?" she hummed, unsure she had heard him correctly.

"You smell good, like strawberries or something," he mumbled again, tiredness blurring his words. His finger lightly brushed the the material over her knee, his touch sending sparks through her body despite the fact that her legs had fallen asleep ages ago from the weight of his kelp-filled head. "Who's clothes?"

"You don't," she replied honestly. "And I don't know. Sleep," she told him.

He shifted slightly, pulling his legs closer to his chest before sighing. "But I'm not... okay, fine. G'night."

Annabeth sighed in relief when he relaxed for a second time. She was too wound up still to sleep herself, so she decided to just watch his chest rise and fall as long as she could.

Up, down. Up, down. Up, -

Percy's eyes flew open. "Annabeth," he announced with newfound clarity, scaring the life out of her.

"Percy!" she scolded. "You need to rest, close your fucking eyes and-"

"I love you," he rolled over to meet her eyes. He wasn't smiling or smirking or trying to piss her off by being difficult. His face was blank, but his eyes were earnest. It was just a statement of fact. He turned back to his original position, snuggling into her side with a smile.

Annabeth stroked his hair one last time.

"I love you too," she whispered.

Chapter Text

Annabeth was tired.

Hungry, hurt, dehydrated and scared out of her mind: but mostly tired. She didn't know how long they'd been in Tartarus for, but she guessed it had to be at least two or three days. Both she and Percy could barely keep their eyes open as they continued to trudge forward in what they hoped was the right direction towards the doors.

The monsters were plentiful: which made sense, considering it was the place of all evil beings. The acidic air, dark haze, and dead scenery did more than enough to prove that. Not to mention the constant moaning, along with the occasional scream of dammed souls.

They both limped; her ankle was still sore, and her boyfriend had injured himself trying to fight off a stray dracanae. The jagged cut down his calf was bad. With no anispectic or clean water, it was already starting to get infected.

She gave them a day or two before one of them collapsed from exhaustion and died.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that there was still hope, but she shut it down.

They were in Tartarus. It was over.

She didn't realize she was crying until she tasted the saltiness on her lips. It seemed like that was all she'd been doing the past couple of days. The voice begged her to wipe her cheeks and suck it up, she was Annabeth Chase for gods sake, but the overbearing sense of doom sent it scrambling back to cover.

"So, do you want the good news or bad news?"

Percy's hoarse yet upbeat voice beckoned her to look up. He had stopped at what appeared to be a dead end; he was leaning precariously off of the edge.

Her laugh was dangerously low and bitter- it surprised the both of them. "There can't be good news," she spat. Her voice cracked midway; Percy spun around instantly, his expression just... sad.

"Hey," his shoulders drooped as he reached out to her. He gently took her hand, his eyes staring into hers, right through her. "Listen, we're going to figure this out, alright?"

She ripped her hand out of his, ignoring the way his face fell. "No. You can keep saying that, but Percy, do you actually believe it?"

He opened his mouth to respond before letting it snap shut. His gaze swept across her face frantically. He was silent for a moment until he found what he wanted to say. "I believe that if anything, I'm with you. Come on, Wise Girl. Just trust me a little, okay?"

More than anything, she wanted to tell him no. They were dying- Hades, his entire body wavered with exhaustion and pain as he spoke, not to mention that his voice was the equivalent of sandpaper. His dark hair was matted against the side of his head with blood and sweat. But he just looked so dam hopeful.

She found herself nodding.

Percy sighed a breath of relief, straightening with a slight smile. "Okay, okay," he breathed. "Good news or bad news?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning agaisnt the cold granite wall next to them, allowing it to cool her down.. That was another thing about Tartarus- it was frigidly cold yet stifling hot at the same time. It didn't have to make sense. It was hell. "Bad news."

"I'm starting with the good news anyway," he decided, glancing once again over the edge. For the first time in a while, she was curious about what may in front of them.

"I think there's-" he began to cough, but shook it off, "I sense water nearby, like, below us. And I think we can get to it."

Annabeth's eyes widened instantly. "Schist, Jackson. You better not be kidding."

"Wait, what's the bad news?" she followed up anxiously when he didn't respond, rushing to peer over the cliff.

Her heart plummeted.

When Percy said he thought they could reach it- well, the optimism was strong with that one. The ground was forty feet down; there were ledges all along the face of the wall, yes, but she doubted either of them had the coordination in their current states to do so.

But, despite her doubts, they made it down. It took an hour, Percy scraped his hand on a rock and her ankle throbbed, but neither of them died.

Which was good, she supposed.

The only enemies they came across were a pair of overly large serpents waiting for them at the bottom- Percy cut them down easily. Thankfully their heads didn't grow back.

"How's the concussion?" she asked when he sheathed Riptide with a wince, bringing his hands up to his head.

He shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's okay," he lied, the words strained as he took a shaky breath, slowly lowering himself to the ground as a wave of dizziness passed over him. The strain and focus of the past few moments must have escalated his symptoms.

"Yeah, right," she muttered. She was concerned that he hadn't had any chance to rest- while she wasn't an expert in concussions, she had read one too many stories about the consequences of not properly taking time to recover from one. Depression, difficulties focusing, insomnia, memory issues, among others... Percy definitely didn't need more of those things.

She sat down next to him, carefully swinging her ankle out in front of her to avoid putting pressure on it. Her grey, calculating eyes scanned the space they were in- it was dark, per Tartarus' preference, but the terrain seemed relatively easy. In the silence, she almost thought she could hear water running.

Wait. She could definitely hear water- like a waterfall, spring, or river of some sort. Gurgling liquid. Suddenly, she was wide awake. The gears in her brain began to rotate again, clearing out the cobwebs.

"Percy," she said urgently, straightening in excitement. "Hey, you were right about the water- I hear it!"

He scoffed. "Of course I was right," he coughed out.

She scrambled to her feet as fast as she could, ignoring the stabbing sensation up her leg at the prospect of something to drink.

"I think it's right around this corner," she announced, hobbling forward a few steps to confirm her theory. Sure enough, the bubbling noise increased.

"Go ahead," he choked out. "I'm just... ah... I'm just going to wait for the world to stop... to stop spinning."

Annabeth turned to look at him, concerned. Even in the low light she could tell that he was incredibly pale.

She didn't want to leave him- in fact, she was almost afraid of how dependent she'd grown of him. She would have been dead ten times over if it weren't for Percy.

Not to mention that he was practically defenseless in this state.

But if she could bring water back to him... she wouldn't be gone that long... he'd be fine, right?

"I'll be right back," she promised hesitantly. "I'm just going to see if it's actually, like, drinkable."

He head dipped in a nod. "Just don't go far," he pleaded pathetically.

She didn't have to. As she turned the corner, the ground declined into a cavern of sorts; the walls morphed together to create a roof over what she assumed would be a pool at the bottom. The curly blonde timidly placed a hand on the cool rock and allowed it to lead her towards the source of the gurgling; her fingers traced every bump and dip of the surface. The slope down was shallow, yet the worn soles of her sneakers struggled to grip the slick rock underfoot. The ground eventually evened out, and when it did, she was ecstatic to see what she did.

It took her breath away.

It was a beach. But instead of sand, the ground was littered with minuscule, broken shards of glass of a range of colors. It was beautiful, in an eery, twisted way: the subtle light of the area bent and glinted off the sharp edges.

The water that met the crystal shore was perfectly clear- it seemed like a dream. For once, there seemed to be no catch. As long as they could deal with the glass, they had water.

She took a step back, eager to get back to Percy to tell him the good news. She turned to start up the hill, but he was already at the cavern's entrance, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Water?" he croaked hopefully.

The growing smile on her lips was the only confirmation he needed.

"Thank gods," he sighed in relief, lowering his gaze to focus on where he was stepping.

For a moment, as she watched Percy make his way down, Annabeth wondered why there was a convenient source of water in the middle of Tartarus. It wasn't like the beasts down here drank it. She wondered where the water came from, what it's purpose was.

She wondered why she was overthinking it so much. She and Percy were going to die of dehydration if they didn't get something to drink; they didn't have much of a choice.

Percy had soon joined her side.

"Feeling better?" she asked, slowly inching towards the shoreline; her gray eyes flickered between him and the drink.

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly before pointing at the shards. "So, they thought, 'what do people hate? Stepping on glass at the beach? Let's make a beach out of glass?'"

Annabeth hummed a small response before stepping forward. The 'sand' crunched beneath her feet as she made her way towards the water. When she reached where the crystal water met the collection of pointed glass she carefully lowered herself to the ground so that she was crouched over her tennis shoes. She thrust her hands into the water, cupping it before bringing it to her mouth.

Annabeth's eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss as the cool water slid down her throat. She continued to scoop the liquid up to her lips, drinking it sloppily; drops glistened as they ran down her chin.

Percy followed her lead, before focusing on letting his calf heal. He tentatively dripped water over the gash. The process stung, but it seemed to be working. The swelling and redness surrounding the wound slowly began to disappear.

"Try and wash out your hair," Annabeth suggested, partly because he reeked (not that she was much better), partly because of the fact that he had nearly split his head open when they first fell. She hoped it'd bring some color to his face as well.

The raven haired boy obliged, much to her relief. They stayed like that for a few minutes, perfectly at ease- or as at ease as they could be in Tartarus.

Slowly, though, her stomach began to wring itself into knots. She assumed it was just of hunger at first- they hadn't eaten in days- but the ache turned into jabbing pains quickly. She gasped lightly in anguish as one ripped through her like a knife; surprised, she hugged her stomach, causing her to lose her balance and fall backwards into the glass. She cursed as glass implanted itself into her palms.

Percy turned to see what had caused the outburst. His eyebrows drew up in concern. He glanced back at the water they had both drank, it's reflection dancing in the sea green of his irises.

"You okay?" He drawled cautiously, drawing himself away from the edge of the liquid as though the distance would override the fact that he had just consumed a gallon of it.

The blonde only responded with a strained groan, curling tightly into a ball. Every muscle seemed to clench in her body.

Then, all at once, her body went slack.

"Annabeth!" Percy cried out, worry shooting through him like a rush of adrenaline. He scrambled over to where she had fallen, worry lines marking his forehead at the fearful look plastered across her face. He grabbed her shoulders and shook them, trying to wake her up, but it was no use.

He kissed her quickly, hoping that would help, but she still refused to open her eyes. "Come on, Wise Girl... come on," he whispered urgently. A small whine escaped her lips; Percy's anxiety rose. His stomach flipped uncomfortably.

He didn't know what to do.

Annabeth's chapped lips moved slightly, as though she was in a trance. He lowered himself so her hot breath tickled his ear to see if what she was saying was anywhere near distinguishable.

His chest flared with jealously when he heard Luke's name.

His name hurt more than it should have. Actually, by the way a sudden agonizing burning sensation rushed through him, it might have had more to do with the water he had just drank than Luke at all.

A haze glazed over his vision, and that's when he heard it.

A shuffling in the distance; slow, but definitely steady. Definitely a monster. No doubt it had heard his worried cries and wanted to join in on the fun. He stood shakily, clumsily digging Riptide out of his pocket. Percy's clammy fingers fumbled over the smooth cap of the pen, allowing his sword to jump to it's full length. He lifted it, squinting to see what the figure leisurely approaching him was.

His heart jumped into his throat. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips.

He was just as ugly as he remembered him.

His pot belly from one too many bowls of guacamole rolled over the band of his beer stained jeans. The stench of alcohol and nicotine radiated off of him in clouds, even from the distance he was. The whole room seemed darker. Colder. The water seemed to still as his pudgy legs drifted closer.

Percy couldn't move.

"Eh, look at that!" Gabe sneered as he waddled closer. His stubby fingers curled around the neck of a half-empty bottle of lager. Percy glanced at it anxiously before reluctantly meeting the pig's beady eyes. "The little punk grew up."

Percy's blood boiled. His knuckles turned white around Riptide's grip. He instinctively stepped over Annabeth's trembling form, his face hardening like steel. "Go to hell," he hissed.

The irony.

Gabe laughed- it was more of gurgled chortle. "We're already here," he announced, stopping a few feet in front of where his former stepson stood above his girlfriend. The demigod ground his teeth together, fighting every urge to drive the weapon through the fatty beast.

"So you're the hero of Olympus?" the raspy voice from years of smoking scratched at Percy's resolve. "You sure don't look like much," he mocked, grinning up at him, putting his yellowing teeth on display. The teen took a few steps back, the acrid odor sickening him. His stomach churned as he slowly led the monster away from Annabeth, who still lay defenseless in the glass on the ground.

"Get. Away," Percy growled lowly, holding his ground by the shore. He felt for some kind of energy to pull from, the the water was unresponsive to his commands.

That didn't make sense. It had healed him before.

He heavily debated punching some sense into the bastard- beating him, letting him know what it felt like.

But he heard his mom's voice begging him not to retaliate. So he didn't.

Gabe's unkempt eyebrows quirked up. "What was that?"

Percy didn't respond. He merely clenched his jaw.

Gabe lunged forward, his movements much faster than Percy remembered. Before he could react, the walrus' greasy palms were on his chest, launching him backwards with a force that surely couldn't be possible.

Percy flew backwards, his back slamming into the shallow water- and for a second he was back in his old apartment again, sliding down the wall. His mouth and eyes filled with water; he sat up quickly to spit it all out. Part of the anger subsided to make way for gripping fear.

This whole fear-of-drowning development really sucked.

"You answer when I talk to you, boy."

Percy coughed harshly, dragging himself out of the lake, river, whatever it was. His skin burned where Gabe had touched him, and his movements were suddenly sluggish. He felt as though someone had strapped weights to his ankles; it may have been the fact that his ratty shirt and jeans were now soaked. Water slid down the son of Poseidon's face and dripped unceremoniously off his chin.

His eyes refocused.

Gabe was kneeling next to his girlfriend, his lips curled in a smile that could only be described as evil. He reached out to stroke her hair, her face, Percy didn't know- he didn't want to know. Ignoring the heavy feeling within in him he charged, shoving Gabe back with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed before the man had a chance.

"Don't. Touch. Her," he seethed, his eyes practically glowing red. "Don't fucking look at her, don't fucking think about looking at her."

Gabe was standing before he finished his threat. He looked unfazed. Percy squinted, his mind spinning- how'd he get up that fast?

He didn't have much time to go through the logistics before Gabe's meaty fingers wrapped around his forearm, dragging him backwards towards the water. He struggled, but he found himself powerless against him, despite the fact that he had a foot on the old gambler now and a much stronger frame.

"You think you can talk to me like that, huh boy?" The words bled into his ears. "I thought I raised you better than that."

Percy squeezed his eyes together as he took a blow to the ribs, pain blossoming through his body. He forgot that he was stronger now. He just knew what he'd always known: Gabe would get bored eventually, and stop. Only rough him up to the point it wasn't obvious. Hopefully that point was before was dead.

His sea green eyes fluttered open in panic when they reached the water. Gabe grinned maliciously, the reflection of the water dancing mockingly in his pupils. Percy didn't even have a chance to take a breath before his head was forced underwater.

His stomach clenched instantly; Percy grabbed at Gabe's wrists, desperately trying to pry his arms off as he gaped for air. He kicked, adrenaline flooding his body as he reached for the surface that was inches above his head. Glass dug into his shoulders as he tried to push Gabe away.

If he didn't, what would happen to Annabeth? He could only imagine what Gabe would do. He didn't even know if she was okay. He couldn't leave her.

His mom would be heartbroken. He saw her tears, her screams as Chiron told her he was gone.

Annabeth.

Gabe ripped him out of the water, hatred burning in his eyes. Percy choked, coughing and spitting and throwing weak fists at the monster. The water provided no strength now. He laughed, spit flying from his mouth into his face.

"You know, punk, you'd think they'd have you figured out by now. You were never a hero. You're a brainless good for nothing waste of space that has never done anything but get in the way."

The demigod opened his mouth to say something, maybe in rebuttal or a plead to let him go, but before he could get words out his head was forced back under the water.

He inhaled in surprise, water filling his lungs and it burned.

He was above the surface again. Hacking, drowning, it hurt. The hands on his shoulders were taut and unmoving.

"How many of your friends have died because of you? How many suffer because your 'bright ideas', huh Brainboy? How many will you keep killin' before you figure out you're the problem?

"Who's gonna die next because of you? Your mom? That pretty little blonde over there? You call yourself selfless, punk, but their pain comes from you. Waste. Of. Space."

Percy was too busy panicking to comprehend his words immediately. With one last terrible grin, the walrus pushed him hard into the glass basin. The water turned pink.

He continued to fight, but his chest burned as though he had swallowed a handful of lava. Percy felt like a pressure cooker, about to explode. He couldn't hold his breath much longer- panic filled him, but he desperately held on to the fact that he was a son of Poseidon. He could breathe underwater.

Eventually, his lungs surrendered, the need for oxygen too strong to ignore any longer. He inhaled deeply, seeking relief.

He knew instantly he wasn't breathing like he used to be able to.

The water gagged him. He clawed at his throat weakly, grasping weakly at the surface, but it was too late.

Percy's body grew heavier. He was dizzy.

He was fading.

He closed his eyes.

Waste. Of. Space.

.

His body shook. Annabeth pretended she didn't notice and instead focused on the fact that he was breathing again. Relief coursed through her, but it was short lived.

His eyes shot open, filled with terror and confusion. He flew up into a sitting position and immediately grabbed her hand, despite being half conscious still.

"Annabeth? Are you- you're hurt, I'm sorry, I couldn't-"

"I'm okay, Percy," her voice cracked as she said the words, confused. He was frantic and struggled to regulate his breathing.

He blinked sporadically, shaking his head as if to rid it of the memories. Her head spun with her own delusion as she tried to focus on him.

"Annabeth-" his voice shook, "I, I-"

"Whatever was in that water triggered some kind of hallucination," she thought aloud. Tears, from either the stress or fear or both, formed at the corners of her eyes. They wasted no time finding their way down her cheeks and splashing onto the cold floor beneath them.

Her boyfriend missed them. He had closed his eyes, in what she assumed was an effort to regain control of his thoughts, to relax.

"It was a dream," he murmured. She didn't respond. Instead, she merely grabbed his hand and squeezed it, to let him know she was there. He inhaled deeply before looking at her.

"You're crying," he said, almost in a daze.

She nodded, failing to keep back a sob when she thought about why. "It was just... like," she paused as cries racked her body, "Luke, and Thalia. My dad... And then... and then you..."

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her to his chest. He pet her hair slowly, as tangled and dirty as it was as she explained the details of the hallucination between sobs, each part chipping away at her heart. She was already losing her mind just being in Tartarus. Having memories of her times with Luke and Thalia, twisted nightmares about Arachne and Percy and death mixed in was not helpful.

Eventually she pulled away to study him. "What about you?" She sniffled. "What happened?"

Immediately his caring demeanor faded, replaced by hardness. He stood quickly. "Nothing."

"Percy-"

"Annabeth, I'm fine. You're bleeding, look, we need to get-"

"Don't lie to me!" she raised her voice, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. His face dropped, his eyes flashing as he flinched away.

"Sorry," she muttered, wiping her cheeks to free them of moisture. "Just- you don't have to act so 'fine' all the time. You're part god, but you're part human too."

She didn't want to mention how much she hated the fact that she was barely - if even that- holding it together while he was just as determined and heroic as he's always been. She loved him for it, but it was still difficult to watch him be the 'the Great Percy Jackson' 24/7 like some kind of sick show when she was falling apart at his side.

She studied his face. He refused to look at her. After a second or two he sighed before lowering himself to the ground where she sat.

"Was it about camp again?" she asked softly. She knew it was one of the worst ones he got: it played directly on his fatal flaw; camp burning to the ground and he couldn't help. His friends calling him a traitor. The typical fun things Gaea played on repeat in his head.

"No," he shook his head, leaning against the wall behind them. He stopped there, and didn't seem like he was going to continue. Frustration rose in her chest at his silence, and she was about to yell at him when he spoke again.

"It was Gabe."

Oh.

She knew bits and pieces about Sally's ex-husband. That he hit her, that he hit Percy on the bad days. He drank and smoked and gambled- a good for nothing father figure. Percy never went too much in depth about it; every time he tried he would get overwhelmingly angry.

Which was why she was confused. Percy was terrified a minute ago, not angry. Styx, he wasn't breathing.

"I don't understand."

Percy grimaced as he tightened the wrap around his leg, which she didn't think he needed, given the cursed water had healed it. "Do we have to talk about it right now? Don't we have more important things to be doing?" he snapped.

"Yes, we do, don't be an ass," she retorted. "You weren't fucking breathing, Seaweed Brain. I thought you were going to die."

"Well I don't want to tell you," he hissed, his eyes hard when they met hers challengingly.

That stung. That stung a lot, but the rational part of her knew he was just upset- not at her, but whatever nightmare Tartarus had shoved down his throat. Still, what she had just told him had torn her apart.

"You need to calm down," she said lowly, "Don't take this out on me."

"I am calm!"

"Percy!"

"I'm not talking about it," he growled lowly. Annabeth's eyes dropped to her feet in defeat.

"Fine. Okay, fine."

They walked away from the pool in silence, each wondering how long it would take for the rest to fall apart.

Chapter Text

Leo grabbed the rag- once white but now stained black with grease and dirt- off the workbench behind him, wiping it once over his brow to mop up the sweat that had formed there. He cursed when he realized it had only made a bigger mess, staining his skin with inky oil. That sure wouldn't help his current acne problem. The demigod sighed, frowning at his distorted reflection in the chrome plate of the engine he had been slaving over for the past few days.

It'd only exploded twice so far. In theory, the next test had about a 30% chance of not blowing up in his face.

Literally.

Forgetting his messy face, he scrambled across the bunker towards a spare worktable, filing through spare sheets of metal and plywood to find the small black screwdriver hiding underneath. He grinned, twisting it in his fingers. "Just where I left it," he murmured to himself, praising his organization skills, before slinking back over to his project.

(A/N haha I guess you could call Festus Leo's... pet project ;P)

He began humming to the tune of a song he had heard blasting from the volleyball courts in passing an hour prior as he continued his work. His hands moved smoothly; it was second nature to him. Everything was going well until the door of Bunker 9 slammed open, plowing through the pile of scraps Leo had created.

He pursed his lips at the loud ringing of metal hitting the floor.

"Sorry," a timid voice called out. Leo shrugged without turning around, narrowing his eyes at his work as he wedged the screwdriver through a small crack in an attempt to break a segment free. "Don't worry about it," he said passively, "I was a bit too generous with the grease on the hinges, anyhow."

The force of the screwdriver caused a small section of metal to fly across the room. It clanked noisily against the wall.

He grinned in triumph. He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, smearing them with grease but caring very little- it wasn't like they weren't stained already. He turned to face his visitor, who happened to be a camper who he was pretty sure was named Natalia.

Although, her name could also be Amy... or Jaime? Felicia?

"Are you here to witness one of the greatest inventions of all times?" he bolstered, rounding the table with the intent to delay trying to use her name at all costs.

The short blonde blinked in confusion. The new camper wasn't quite yet used to Valdez's antics. "Um, no," she stuttered. "Chiron said he wanted to talk to you."

Leo frowned. That was never good. The last time Chiron wanted to talk to him ended with an hour-long lecture on why he shouldn't try to see how large the bonfire could get at night. As though he didn't realize that screaming campers and scorched benches were not necessarily ideal.

Then again, he had done it twice and was planning on trying for a third... that was the saying though, right? Third times a charm?

The curly haired Latino suddenly realized he hadn't ever answered the girl standing in front of him.

"Lo siento... Do you know why? Where am I supposed to go?"

She shifted her weight between her feet awkwardly, seeming antsy. "The Big House, I think. And he didn't really say...um, I'm gonna be late for climbing wall-"

Natalia/Amy/Jaime/ Maybe Felicia gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and skirted out before Leo had a chance to respond, leaving him alone with his work in progress. He slumped his shoulders forward, muttering to himself as he prepared to leave. Was it a coincidence that big house was slang for prison?

He continued to gripe and groan as he made the walk up towards the large plantation style home on the hill, only breaking his frustrated façade to wink at the ladies that walked by.

None of them acknowledged him.

Now frustrated and depressed, Leo ran up the front steps of the building, noting the alarming creaking of the old wood. He'd have to work on that later. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed open the front door and hustled inside- and straight into Mr. D.

Mr. D, who happened to be holding a bottle of wine.

The god dropped the merlot as his porky frame stumbled backwards, the glass shattering the second it met the ground. Red wine splashed up onto the both of them, staining the god's newest horrific patterned shirt and adding to the mess of Leo's top.

"Di immortals," Mr. D cursed, his hands spread as he surveyed the chaos before slowly lifting his head to make eye contact with the demigod.

Leo smiled cheekily in response to his furious expression.

"Mr. Valdoso, let me ask you this- do you want to be dolphin for the rest of your miserable life?"

The son of Hephaestus opened his mouth to comment, but not before Chiron poked his head out from the rec room to investigate the cause of commotion. He glanced around momentarily to get a sense of the situation before sighing in disappointment. "Dionysus, your probation-"

The god waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. My probation, whatever. Let's just get started with this stupid thing."

With that, he scooted around the centaur and disappeared through the open door, leaving Leo and Chiron alone.

"Whatever you think I did, I probably didn't do it," Leo blurted out, nervous with the centaur's heavy gaze. "I mean, I might have done it, but it's probably not as bad as you think and I'll-"

Chiron shook his head tiredly. "No, child... here, why don't you come in." He rolled back into the rec room, with Leo following nervously behind, not knowing what to expect.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried at the apparent head counselor meeting that seemed to be happening. He seemed to be the last one there- glancing around the room, he noted Clovis snoring peacefully in the hammock in the corner of the room, Connor and Travis (back from school for the summer) talking quietly at the head of the ping-pong table, Lou Ellen tapped a pencil absentmindedly on her chair, among the rest. Although, Percy and Annabeth appeared to be absent- that was mildly concerning, but he didn't think much of it. Percy was probably at his mom's helping with the new baby, and he figured Annabeth had sent Malcolm to replace her, as he was slouched in a plastic fold-up chair that looked ready to snap. The kid had bags under his eyes and looked like he might tip over any second from exhaustion.

"You hear the news yet?" Katie said quietly, her freckled face sad.

He shook his head in confusion, taking the empty seat next to her. "What, did they cancel dinner or something? Did Peleus barf again?" Gods, dragon puke was the WORST- forget the corrosive acid and flames, the stench itself was like a middle school boy's locker room on steroids, combined with old socks and dead fish-

"Percy and Annabeth are missing," Sherman Yang answered for her, shifting uncomfortably in his spot on the floor.

Leo's face dropped. His fingers froze, the small block of wood he had been fiddling with coming to a rest between them. Correction to his previous thought, that their absence wasn't alarming: it was alarming.

"From the meeting?" he said hopefully, glancing at Katie helplessly. She slowly shook her head no, the deep-set frown on her features speaking more than words ever could.

"They're missing?" he asked, dumbfounded, glancing sporadically around the rec room, praying for someone to jump and announce it was all a poorly planned prank.

Clarisse scowled. "No, you idiot, it's a funny joke because it was so hilarious last time they were gone-. Yes, they're missing!"

The son of Hephaestus crossed his arms, pushing back from the table. He fought down the urge to vomit- the last time Percy went missing, it was at the hands of a goddess. At the forefront of a war, a war to put a cranky Mother Earth back to sleep with a good whack on the head. "Wasn't Jason and Piper with them?"

Malcolm ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair. "Yeah, they said Percy told them he was taking Annabeth somewhere, and-"

"Well, he took his car right? Can't you find the plates, I can-"

"Chiron said Paul called, it was at that beach they always go to, that public park," the son of Athena cut him off with a sigh.

Clarisse scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "Can't that punk just use the beach here? What's wrong with it, anyways?"

Travis and Connor smirked simultaneously, glancing mischievously at each other. They knew exactly why Percy didn't take Annabeth on dates around camp anymore. "Why" may or may not include firecrackers, exploding picnic baskets, firecrackers in exploding picnic baskets, dissolving swim shorts... the list went on.

Leo caught their eye and, if he hadn't been feeling such an impending sense of doom, most likely would have had to stifle a laugh at the memories. The disappearing swim shorts prank had been hilarious- mortifying for their poor señor seawater, but hilarious none the less. For now, he tried to figure out where the Hades his friends were. That son of a beach owed him a hamburger, after all.

"Have you checked his house? Or his old apartment, or-"

"We're not idiots, you fucking twat, yes. I went this morning," Clarisse snapped, shooting daggers at him. "And his step-dad called, remember? Pretty sure he would have mentioned if they were there."

Chiron pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. "Clarisse, please. And Leo, allow me to explain what I know," he declared solemnly, his eyes scanning the room before he spoke again. His face was sullen as he recalled the revelations of the past few days... that Percy's car was towed, their two heroes were missing, that they had been kidnapped. Kidnapped by S.H.I.E.L.D.

Leo's jaw dropped to the floor. "S.H.I.E.L.D.? Like, Tony Stark/Iron Man S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

The room erupted in chatter. Chiron struggled to regain control, stamping his hooves in frustration.

Everyone jumped over each other, trying to get their question answered first. I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was dissolved? Aren't they supposed to be the good guys? Are they at the Avengers compound?

Mr. D cleared his throat loudly, slamming his can of Coke down onto the battered ping pong table with a loud thud, causing everyone to jump. He rolled his eyes at the sudden silence. "Calm down," he grouched, scanning the room with wide eyes, "Unless you all would like to be porpoises."

Lou Ellen ignored his warning. "I don't understand, what would they want with them anyway?"

Chiron began to answer, but Malcolm beat him to it. "It's the whole inhuman thing, right?"

"Inhumans? What the hell are Inhumans?"

Leo sat dazed as he watched the group argue. Mr. D rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his coke. Chiron looked somewhere between flipping the table tennis table and crying.

"EVERYBODY. SHUT. THE. HADES. UP."

The room quieted, warily eyeing Clarisse. They were all upset, confused, and frustrated, but terrified of being gutted with whatever Clarisse could lay her hands on first- whether that be her spear or the pencil balancing haphazardly at the end of the table. The corners of her lips rose in a tight-lipped, highly annoyed smile. "Chiron, take it away."

Leo found it funny that the counselors had listened to the daughter of Ares much better than they had Dionysus.

The old centaur exhaled slowly. "You all are quite aware that Greek mythology is not quite, ah, mythology. Nor are the Egyptian legends."

Travis whistled slowly. "By golly gee, I would have never known!" he exclaimed, slapping his hands against his cheeks. "What a shock! Connor!" he exclaimed with wild eyes, shaking his brother's shoulder, "The Greek gods are among us!"

Connor stared blankly ahead, his blue eyes trained on a random spot on the floor. "I had no idea," he deadpanned.

Katie sent Travis a disapproving look, shutting him up immediately. He looked guilty for his interruption. Leo felt for him. He knew what it was like to displace all of his problems and anxieties into sarcasm and humor.

Across the table, Dionysus snorted, flicking his fingers together. A cherry coke materialized out of the air. "Oh no," he cried out dramatically, opening the can with a flick of his wrist. The gentle hiss of carbonation filled the air. "Please, tell me more. I'm oh-so-very-intrigued by this 'Greek gods are real' concept."

Chiron patiently started again. "Norse mythology is present, as well. And, ah, Inhumans are somewhat the demigods of that nature, maintaining their powers throughout generations."

Leo held out his hand. He'd done well so far, keeping his comments to himself, but he'd had it. Three levels of mythology? What the flying frick!? How did that even work?

"Whoa whoa whoa- so you're telling me, there's a Thor and a Zeus? What, do they take turns with the magic lightning stick?"

Leo wasn't the only one with a question- the entire room, once again, became a cacophony of voices climbing over each other.

The son of Hephaestus leaned back in his chair, breaking all rules about four legs on the ground, and tried to ward off the headache that had slammed into him at full force. He resisted the urge to hyperventilate. Everything at once was suddenly overwhelming. The denial that his friends had been kidnapped was gone- the realization that S.H.I.E.L.D. was the reason why was terrifying, however cool, and everyone- well, everyone except for Malcolm- was screaming. It was too much.

Not to mention, he still didn't remember that girl's name from earlier, and that was driving him nuts.

Chiron slammed his hoof against the splintering wood of the rec room, the banging echoing off the walls and once again bringing an uneasy silence to the room.

"I'd appreciate your respect, demigods," he necessitated with an aura of authority. The counselors all looked embarrassed at being reprimanded, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Travis folded his hands in front of him, as Connor adjusted his posture. Lou Ellen was beet red. Malcolm continued to look like he had just been hit by a bus.

Leo figured he had been working on this issue with Chiron privately.

A second thought passed him quickly: why hadn't Chiron told him about Percy and Annabeth's disappearance as soon as it had happened?

"Inhumans, as I was saying, are powered humans, derived from Norse mythology. Powered. Powered, like..."

"Like Percy," Leo finished. "So wait, is S.H.I.E.L.D. just taking these inhuman people off the road? Why haven't we heard about this at all?"

"It's on the news," Malcolm sighed. "We just don't watch it. But S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to contain these people under the radar- the majority of them are untrained, unlike us, and don't know how to contain their powers, therefore they're inherently dangerous."

Leo exhaled quickly out his nose. They were all inherently dangerous. Hell, he started on fire when he felt like it.

Epic, but dangerous all the same.

"And then you have the ATCU- some new government organization, they're supposed to replace S.H.I.E.L.D. after the whole Hydra disaster. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't supposed to exist. They're trying to get to the Inhumans as well. That's all over the news, they've made a huge publicity stunt out of it."

Clarisse frowned. "It's weird that we've never really talked about all this shit before. Why the hell have we never talked about how fucking weird the world is?"

The whole room found themselves nodding along to that statement, despite the profanity.

"So, I get why they'd take Percy- but why Annabeth?"

Malcolm hummed in amusement at Sherman's question. "Your really think Annabeth would let them take Percy without a fight?"

"I don't understand how they managed to take the both of them in the first place- they were at the beach!"

"Yeah, what the hell?"

Chiron surveyed the room helplessly. "From talking with Percy... well, they're government agents, children. They don't have, ah, inhuman powers, so to say. But they're trained in capturing powered people. They have their methods of subduing their targets." The centaur said the words impassively, but the words were sour on his tongue. Sally's pained expression when he briefed her on his conversation with him, her tears when they couldn't get another I.M. through, were all but fresh in his mind.

"In short, they shot them," Clarisse sneered. Commotion erupted around Leo. He couldn't move. His mind swarmed with thoughts.

This had been his fault. He had said the stupid truth to freak Percy out in the first place, gods he was an idiot. He hadn't been thinking. Was he ever thinking? Percy tried to distract them all from his horrible mistake by leaving, and now he'd been shot? Kidnapped, by one of the most elusive forces in the world?

Good job, he bitterly congratulated himself. He knew Piper and Percy constantly tried to remind him of his worth in the seven, but in times like this...

Gods, they'd be so much better off without the seventh wheel. It just threw everything off balance.

Chiron eventually steered the conversation away from theoreticals to what he had wanted to discuss initially.

"Two things, demigods. Do not address this outside of this room. The safety and privacy of this camp depends solely on the mutual ignorance of these two entities. If other campers recognize S.H.I.E.L.D. and its doings as the cause of Annabeth and Percy's disappearance..."

He trailed off. Every person in that room knew a demigod's tendency to want to be the hero. How many times had Percy and Annabeth snuck off on their own quests? They couldn't afford any campers pulling stunts such as those. The vivid images of uniformed agents flooding the camp barriers were frightening enough in their minds.

"Secondly. We need a plan of action. Our two heroes are okay as of now, but I haven't been able to successfully send any more I.M.s to them. All we know is that they're in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. Percy has injured his wrist- he did not seem to be in anguish about any other wounds. Annabeth appeared to be unharmed."

The room sat in silence for a minute, as everyone weighed the possibilities and searched their minds for a decent idea. Leo was the first to speak.

"Would that information, like, where the facility and all that other stuff be in some sort of S.H.I.E.L.D. database? Like, with the whole Hydra fallout in D.C., when all of that information and documentation was released? Or the CIA, FBI, IMF..."

"The IMF isn't real, you idiot," Clarisse snapped.

Leo shrugged. "Everything's real, apparently," he retorted. And honestly- he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Tom Cruise dropped from the roof at this point.

Malcolm furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought. "That's a good point, though. Mary Kate in the Athena cabin is a prodigy when it comes to coding and hacking- remember when she reprogrammed Google to redirect everyone to Bing for an hour? It's a worth a shot to see if she could get in."

Connor stifled a laugh. "Travis, why did we never think of that?"

Travis frowned. "We're not smart enough to hack google?"

"You too aren't smart enough to spell your own names," Clarisse snapped.

"T-R-A-"

"Do you really think she could get into S.H.I.E.L.D.? That's many, many levels harder than Google," Leo continued the conversation with Malcolm.

Malcolm tapped his finger on the table. "I don't know. Your cabin probably knows more about this than I do. But if she could, I know she'd at least need a S.H.I.E.L.D. server to get in."

Lou Ellen spoke up for the first time in a while. "Where are you going to find one of those?"

Mr. D harrumphed from his spot next to Chiron, a shallow grin resting on his face. "Should I tell them?" he asked Chiron ominously.

Chiron closed his eyes and nodded, pleased yet concerned with his demigods' work. Meddling with the government was something he thought he wouldn't have to worry about in this century... or the next, to be honest. 

The god traced the rim of his soda. "Well, listen here you poor, ignorant half-bloods- you don't know the half of a good party. Many mortals don't. One, however-"

Leo knew where this was going. Oh, gods, he knew where this was going, and his adrenaline spiked. This better go where he hoped. He wished his first visit would 't be on these terms, but if Mr. D was about to say what he thought-

"Mr. D," Chiron interrupted his tales of booze with urgency. The god rolled his eyes.

"Stark Tower, Avengers Tower, whatever it's called now," the patterned shirt waved his hand dismissively. "There's your database."

Chapter Text

Percy whimpered slightly from his position on the mattress. The curly blonde perked up at the noise, hoping it was a sign he was waking up. She couldn't sleep herself- thanks, nightmares and perilous fear of her boyfriend choking himself- and had been awake, alone, for hours (the adrenaline did a great job knocking Percy out after its effects wore off).

She was glad for the spare notebook she found, and the fact that Riptide functioned as a working writing mechanism. She hoped Percy didn't mind her digging around in his pockets. She had taken the time to draw a few rough sketches of the building she had been working on for Olympus before they were dragged away. It was only a small temple for Demeter, but she wanted each detail to have meaning, to align perfectly.

The teen in questioned whined again, kicking his bottom feet so that the comforter bunched at the foot of the double bed. His girlfriend watched intently for a few seconds to see if he'd react any worse (she didn't want to wake him if she didn't have to- he hadn't slept this well in days); she regretfully jumped up when a pained yelp left his lips.

"Percy," she whispered soothingly, carefully pulling his forearms down from where he had lifted them to cover his face from the fictional threat. He jumped into consciousness, the green of his eyes wide and attentive.

"It's just me," she comforted him patiently, brushing his cheek with her thumb. Her nose scrunched at the prickling she felt. He needed to shave.

He needed a shower, in general. He stunk, bad.

His eyes flicked across the room, surveying the surroundings for threats before focusing on Annabeth's soft features, his body relaxing slightly.

He graced her with a small smile, although his heavy sigh suggested anything but happiness. "Hello," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, did I wake you?" His words slurred together in exhaustion.

Annabeth shook her head slightly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I wasn't asleep."

He nodded once, noting the bags hanging under her eyes and the dullness of her typical bright grey irises with a frown. With a groan he sat up, his body stiff and aching. A drum beat steadily behind his eyes as he glanced around the room, realizing with a start that he had no idea where they were. He had expected to be back in the obnoxious white cell he and Annabeth had been locked in for the past day or so, but instead they seemed to be in what looked like a bedroom. The walls were painted a solemn brown, which paired nicely with the dark carpeting. There was a cramped leather loveseat across from the bed and a mahogany side desk, on which sat an unassuming lamp and red notebook.

As if reading his mind, his girlfriend gestured around the space. "We've upgraded. You scared the schist out of those agents, so now they're pampering you." Her voice lifted tightly. "They said it's some sort of extra sleeping quarters at this base or what not."

"Is it bugged?"

Annabeth shrugged. She had no idea, and told him as such.

"I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, though," her boyfriend admitted. "Given they know about the whole demigod thing."

"What all did you tell them?" his tanned girlfriend asked curiously. They had basically had her confirm her mother was Athena, and that Percy had powers because of their blood, but to her knowledge that was as much as their intel covered.

"Just that Greek mythology is a thing. And that my dad's a God. Not who he is though," he clarified at her raised brow. "And they've already guessed we're not the only ones."

A beat of silence passed over the two half-bloods before Percy spoke again. He ran a nervous hand through the raven mop of hair on his head before starting.

"Did uh- um... did they ask about the whole, uh..." he waved his hand in circles, his palm open as though the right word for vivid flashback or episode or mental breakdown would fall into it willingly.

"No, but they're going to," she replied honestly.

Percy exhaled sharply through his nose. "Well, that should be a fun conversation."

Annabeth hummed in response, absentmindedly drawing a circle into the carpet. "Was that what your dream was about? Just now?"

"About what? Gabe, or Tartarus?"

"Either."

Percy shook his head with a sigh before he explained. "Well, it started with my mom. She was just crying... then we were in the rec room, and there was some kind of counselor meeting. I couldn't hear what anyone was saying, it was completely silent other than this gods awful ringing- like I used to get after the concussion all the time?, but I just felt like it had something to do with trying to find us. The entire time, you just sat there staring at me shaking your head like something bad was going to happen, and when I asked you what was wrong it just cut back to my mom... she was like, what's the word? Incon... inconsoluble?"

"Inconsolable," Annabeth filled in.

Her boyfriend nodded. "Yeah, that. She wouldn't stop crying. And then Gabe walked in... and yeah." He nodded as he finished, looking down at the black brace on his hand where he picked at the velcro.

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Percy rolled his eyes before continuing to ramble. "He started screaming, I stepped in and said some shit and he turned on me. It was stupid. That part was just coming from the... the whole relapse or whatever, but I don't get the rest. I don't feel good about any of it."

He wanted to add "And I miss my mom and feel insanely guilty for everything I've put her through," but he had already said too much. He figured he'd given Annabeth enough to analyze already.

Sure enough, the daughter of Athena's mind was running rampant with ideas and theories about the meaning of the dream. She pressed him with questions- where was his mom? Who was in the meeting? Was it dark or light out? What were the counselors' expressions? He couldn't hear anything? Really, nothing at all? What did he feel?

"What did he say?"

Percy snorted, scrubbing at the nest that was his hair. He squinted at her before responding. "Who, Gabe?" With her nod he continued. "I don't know, something about how we wrecked his car. He wasn't looking at my mom though, just me, so I don't know why he said we-"

Two solid knocks sounded at the front of the room, relieving Percy from his thousandth interrogation of the past week. The two demigods shared a look before the door creaked open.

Daisy's head popped in, her dark hair swinging down in front of her face. "Mind if we come in?" she asked, as though they had a choice. She had already pushed the door open farther to enter, revealing her tail of Director Coulson. Percy sat up farther on the bed as they filed in, attempting to appear more threatening than he felt, while Annabeth met their stares with a hardened gaze.

The agents filed in slowly, shutting the door behind them with a solid click. Percy snorted. "I guess so. Welcome in."

The director turned towards the teen. "How are you feeling?"

Percy didn't blink. "Hungry. Gross. Annoyed."

"Percy," Annabeth hissed, her eyes flickering between the figure on the bed and the S.H.I.E.L.D. representatives. They may pity them now, but they were still the underdogs in this situation. They had to tread lightly if they wanted to avoid getting themselves and/or the entire camp injured or killed.

Daisy shrugged, surprising her, making eye contact with the dark-haired demigod. She smirked under his glare, slightly amused by his anger. God, he reminded her so much of herself when she was younger. Feisty. Sarcastic. Guarded.

Was it narcissistic to add intelligent to that list?

Jackson wasn't wrong when he said he was gross. Daisy made a show of wrinkling her nose at the smell that wafted off the boy; he didn't smell great. She told him as such, which earned her an eyeroll in response.

"Yeah, big surprise there. Must be an after effect of being held against my will in an underground lair. Sorry if personal hygiene isn't my biggest concern right now." He didn't mention that he desperately wanted a shower. The fact that he hadn't in days made him anxious, but he wasn't about to ask these idiots for anything. He had more dignity than that.

Director Coulson cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "We'll get you cleaned up in just a moment. But first, we want to talk."

"Talk about what?" Annabeth inquired after a moment of silence. As though she didn't already know. She glanced at Percy, his gaze still hardened on the two agents as though his sheer anger might get them to turn around and walk out. Her heart fell. He was strong, but she didn't know he'd be able to talk through all of the crap they'd been through with a couple of strangers, especially when they were part of the problem.

Daisy sighed, glancing once at the sharp-eyed director before turning back to the demigods. "We want to make a compromise."

The two demigods' eyebrows rose in unison, incredulous. Annabeth's laughed in shock, while Percy tensed, looking one hundred and ten percent pissed.

These agents kidnapped them, imprisoned them, interrogated and threatened them... they shot Percy! Twice! And now they want a compromise?

She had to bite her tongue to avoid spitting out that the only compromise they were going to get was leaving her and Percy the Hades alone in exchange for the two demigods not destroying everything they had.

"You're kidding, right? A compromise? What the Hades do we owe you?"

Apparently, her boyfriend didn't possess the same need to keep his opinions to himself.

Still, the two didn't flinch. "We want information about Greek mythology. In return, we'll release you," the director stated uniformly, his voice steady. The man's eyes flicked over to Percy, surveying the teen quickly. Annabeth didn't miss the flash of guilt in his blue irises.

Percy snorted. "Read a book. There's a thousand books on Greek mythology- "

"Not that you've read any of them," Annabeth interrupted snidely, earning her a playful scowl,

"- you can look at. You're welcome, you can let us go now and maybe we won't tell the cops you guys are kidnapping kids off the street."

The older man smiled slightly at the teen's comment. This kid had passion, that was for sure. He crossed the room to sit on the small leather couch, steepling his fingers together as he faced the two half-bloods.

His voice was steady, yet somber. "I owe you two an apology," he started, holding up a hand to stop the retaliation that was somehow already formed behind the boy's open mouth. The girl's lips snapped together as well, reluctantly ready to listen. "And an explanation."

"We've discussed Inhumans with you briefly- Miss. Chase especially. Inhumans, in short, are the result of an alien race known as the Kree descending to Earth. I don't understand the science behind it, but genetic modifications were made to gift the ordinary with... the un-ordinary. Powers."

Daisy nodded, her dark hair bouncing with the movement as she looked between Coulson and the two they had gravely mistaken to be like her in the beginning. "I'm inhuman. Cue the earthquake powers and stuff."

"There was an accident," the director continued. "The powers could only be activated by something called a terrigen crystal, which used to remain isolated in a community known as the Afterlife."

Percy's eyes widened, remembering that specific question and his confusion on the ever-stressful flight there. Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "Used to?" she beckoned them to continue.

The inhuman before them coughed. "Well, long story short, my mom was kinda manipulative. Tried to steal a bunch of the crystals, tried to kill all of S.H.I.E.L.D., tried to kill me..."

She trailed off, hesitating to continue.

Percy shook his head. "If you're expecting us to be impressed by your mom trying to murder you, think again. We've got enough family problems between the two of us to last your entire organization a lifetime."

Annabeth smothered her laugh with her hands. He wasn't wrong. How many of their relatives had attempted to murder them- directly, or indirectly? Hell, her mom had sent her on a death quest that had resulted in a very much unwanted trek through the depths of Tartarus.

Daisy raised an eyebrow at the two. "Really? How so?"

The son of Poseidon shook his head, gesturing with his braced hand for them to move on. "No, no, I believe you were doing a poor job of apologizing. Please, continue"

The woman squinted at the boy in front of her, leaning forward with a small smile, highly amused. She opened her mouth to instigate him once more, but unfortunately Coulson the party-pooper saw through her schemes and spoke before she had the chance to rile him up further.

"Terrigen crystals were dropped in the ocean. The terrigen itself spread, infecting the waters and fish- and those who ingested fish, the meat, or fish oil pills- even a visit to the beach- were exposed. Now, Inhumans are being exposed constantly, all over the globe. Many don't know how to correctly harness their powers, and it's up to us, S.H.I.E.L.D., to guide them with that transformation."

"We assumed that was the case with you two- except you already had a history of destruction and terror. The fact that you wouldn't admit to any of it made us assume the worst- that you were with the enemy."

Annabeth furrowed her brows, busying her hands by twisting her hair into a tight bun atop of her head. Her boyfriend watched distractedly, entranced with the motions. "So you thought we were inhuman or you thought we were evil? Your story is a little crooked here."

"We thought you were both," Daisy clarified, joining the director onto the couch. "And then, your blood tests were negative. And you both were clueless about anything you would know if you'd been terrorists- not to mention Jackson here completely bombed the polygraph, something he'd be trained to evade. And then Lincoln came-"

"Lincoln?" Percy asked, confused.

Annabeth turned slightly towards him. "The blonde guy right before they split us up. Kinda looks like Jason, without the glasses?"

Hey boyfriend shook his head. "I don't remember. I don't care. Continue," he motioned to the agents.

"Lincoln is pretty much the expert when it comes to Inhumans. He's an expert doctor, too- so when he said you two weren't inhuman, but you weren't human either, we believed him.

Then we started thinking about all the stuff you guys had been saying- about Athena, gods, Hades, Hera, Tartarus... and Jackson, Fitz was able to link that to a Hellenistic design. And given that we're well aware Norse mythology is a thing... well, we were willing to accept Greek mythology was as well."

Coulson nodded, searching the teens faces for any sort of reaction, but both were hardened and unreadable. "We shouldn't have gone about questioning you like we did, and we should have informed you of the situation beforehand, but we weren't positive of your intentions or backgrounds. I extend my apologies for that.

"But our job here is still to protect the public from things we can't explain, things they can't protect themselves from- the supernatural, the mythology they believe to be false. And given we know absolutely nothing about the Greek world, we were figuring we could cut ourselves a deal.

"Explain to us your world. What we need to look for to protect ourselves and to protect others- explain everything, truthfully. Prove to us you're innocent; we know you're demigods at this point, and with that you shouldn't have anything to hide.

"When we have enough information, we'll take you two home. No strings attached; we'll leave you and your community alone, unless you pull a stunt that forces us to reconsider your innocence."

The room filled with silence as Coulson's words settled over the two teenagers before him. The Director observed the two turn towards each other in unison, like a well-oiled machine, their eyes meeting in silent conversation. Grey clashed with green, but the weight of their gaze caused Coulson to consider if telepathy was an ability Greek gods passed down to their children. An eternity seemed to past before the two looked back towards them.

Percy Jackson shrugged with a defeated sigh. "I want a shower first."

Coulson smiled, standing. "We can work with that."

Chapter Text

"Alright," Percy sighed, scrubbing a hand through his now damp locks as he plopped down on the small black leather couch. Annabeth flinched backwards at the assault of water droplets, glaring at her boyfriend. He was oblivious to her annoyance, his attention entranced with the large living area they found themselves in. Daisy sat opposite of the two teens in the center circle of chairs and couches, the circle of which was dwarfed by the sheer size of the room. A granite clad counter lined the far wall, marking a wall of cabinets filled with liquor and glasses. The largest flat-screen Percy had ever seen triumphed the other. Warm light spilled in from the ceiling, detailed in gold glass planes that hid the source but diffused the rays evenly throughout the room. He imagined this place could have once been part of the playboy mansion.

"What's our first question?" he asked, casually throwing an arm around his girlfriend as though they were in his apartment and not in a government compound. The dark brunette smirked at the two, especially when the blonde tried to fight out of Jackson's grip, only for him to tighten his hold with a smug smile. The teen seemed to be overflowing with energy, contrasting what he had been an hour earlier- exhausted, "hungry, gross, (and) annoyed" (to quote him). The agent didn't know where it came from, but appreciated it anyhow.

"We have to wait for the others, first," she informed him, leaning down to adjust the end of her dark jeggings. "Glad to know you're so eager, though."

"Tell us about yourself, then," Annabeth said suddenly, jabbing Percy in the ribs with her elbow. He jumped backwards with a hiss of pain, giving her the opportunity to duck under his arm and escape.

"Hey!" he complained, reaching for her again. She grabbed his wrist firmly, sending him a pointed look Daisy could only interpret as not right now. We're trying to be professional. Annabeth rolled her eyes as his face morphed into a pout, his bottom lip jutting out as his dark eyebrows knit together. He looked like a kicked puppy.

"Percy, stop," she mumbled weakly, on the edge of giving in to his antics. She leaned back into the couch before making eye contact with Daisy. Her grey irises startled the Inhuman into words, drawing her attention from the boy.

"What do you want to know?"

"What do we need to know?" Annabeth replied evenly, her eyebrow twitching upwards slightly.

Daisy laughed. "I used to be called Skye. Something Coulson hasn't entirely picked up on," she added with a roll of her eye, hoping that would win her over. By the frozen glare she received in returned, she guessed that it didn't.

"As you already know, I'm Inhuman," she continued, feeling a twinge of de ja vu to when S.H.I.E.L.D. first picked her up and Coulson allowed her to interrogate them instead of the other way around. Her face soured slightly at the memory of Ward, but she shook off the thought. "I uh, I control vibrations in things."

Percy's head jerked up, his rejection already forgotten in in exchange for rampant curiosity- god, he was hyper at the moment. "What does that mean?"

Daisy's lips curled into a sly smirk. "Why don't I show you?"

Her Hershey eyes scanned the room, past the two's inquisitive gazes, searching for a target. Her eyes finally settled on a small glass atop the bar. She assumed Hunter had left it behind from his last visit. She cautiously extended her hand, ignoring the small whisper in her brain that reminded her she wasn't wearing her gauntlets. Sure, the force might end up a little unfocused, but she was more concerned with showing off.

She narrowed her eyes in focus, twitching in excitement when the glass wobbled, dancing tentatively on the granite. She willed it to shatter, which it did... along with the glass cabinet and ceiling pane near it.

Maybe she had been a little too enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.

Jackson clapped slowly, distracting her from the fact of her inevitable scolding from the Director. She turned to him with a scowl. "Impressive," he complimented with mock awe, to which she flipped him off. Annabeth just nodded, processing her ability. Daisy couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by the blonde's blank stare. The intelligence locked behind the young woman's eyes was at a caliber she wasn't sure she'd seen before.

And she'd met Simmons.

The three of them jumped when the heavy wooden door leading into the meeting room slammed open, revealing a concerned Coulson flanked by the majority of their team. His eyes immediately sought out his agent; he relaxed upon seeing her unharmed.

"All is well," Percy informed him, slinking an arm around Annabeth once more- although this time, the gesture seemed to be protective rather than playful. The blonde shot the lean boy a nasty look but allowed the motion anyway. "Daisy was just demonstrating her skills of vibration."

"Sorry, DC.," the Inhuman offered a cheeky grin. "I'll fix it."

"More like I'll fix it," a deeper voice grumbled. Mack wandered into the room, beelining for the mess of shattered glass to survey the damage. Daisy laughed at his annoyance, turning towards him. "Sorry, big guy."

He waved her off, squinting up at the hole in the ceiling. "Hey, Turbo."

Fitz skittered in nervously, sharing eye contact with Percy for a split second before following behind the mechanic. The hefty man pointed towards the edge of the crack, drawing the engineer into a side conversation about materials and structure as the rest of team filled out the space in the room. May stood solemnly at the back door as a guard, while Coulson chose the seat next to Daisy. He placed a small black recording box on the clear coffee table in front of them as Agent Morse navigated to the recliner to the left of the director. Percy's eyes swept over their new company with unease, suddenly overwhelmed. They were supposed to reveal all their secrets to all of these people? All of these strangers?

Annabeth shifted next to him, her leg brushing against his own. She lifted her hand to the one he had thrown over her shoulder, intertwining their fingers before squeezing his palm once in reassurance.

Though, he had a feeling she wasn't just comforting him.

"Anyone want a drink?" a British voice called out. The son of Poseidon's green eyes snapped to the bar, where the British agent was digging around in the mini fridge for a Bendeery ale. His gut twisted when the man stood, his eyes locking on him. "Ay, Jackson!" he grinned almost maniacally. "Want a beer?"

Annabeth stiffened, her grip on her boyfriend's hand almost suffocating. She was surprised when Percy only shook his head. "I'm only seventeen, man."

Hunter didn't look impressed. "And?"

"I don't drink."

"Sure you don't. Here, how about I get you-"

"Hunter, leave the kid alone and sit down," Bobbi snapped. "We don't have time for this."

Coulson exchanged a look with Daisy, commenting silently on the obvious tension between the two agents as Hunter dejectedly made his way over to the communion of seats. He plopped unceremoniously onto a white ottoman, taking a swig out of his bottle.

"So," he questioned, wiping his chin. "Greek gods, eh? That's bloody brilliant. Tell Dionysus I'm a big fan."

Percy narrowed his eyes. He didn't like this man. He didn't trust him.

"How do you know anything about Greek mythology?" Bobbi spoke accusingly.

Hunter chuckled, turning towards the two teens before sending an exaggerated wink Annabeth's way. "The ladies love the Greek."

A low growl came from Annabeth as she made a move to punch the man, but Percy managed to hold her back. Fire burned in his eyes; he turned intentionally to Coulson. "I'm not talking if he's here," he declared pointedly before directing his attention towards Hunter. "Annabeth alone can kick your ass so I suggest you shut the hell up."

"Look, mate, I'm just-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Daisy interrupted, throwing her hands out to provide some sort of obstacle between the two parties. The whole situation had escalated quite quickly. "Everybody calm down, let's take a breath..."

"I'm not talking if he's here," Percy repeated.

"Percy, it's fine-" Annabeth started.

"No, I want him out," Percy insisted, his voice strained.

Coulson sighed, motioning for Hunter to leave as the rest looked on. It wasn't worth the fight. Hunter's presence wasn't vital, unlike the information the two teens had. "Hunter-"

The agent threw his hands up in indignation, ready to yell out a rebuttal, but lost the motivation when the action caused the relatively threatening physique of the boy to flinch rather violently. Percy recovered quickly, but the implications of the action were clear. His mind shot back to the intel they had added to the kid's file after the flight to the Cabin... specifically, the intel about his stepdad.

His drinking, abusive stepdad.

Bloody hell, he was an idiot.

"I'll see you guys later," he said softly. "Sorry, mate," he apologized to the two before striding out of the room.

A heavy silence fell over the room. "Well, this is awkward," Percy started with a lopsided grin. "But I kind of want to go home, so someone better start asking questions."

........................................................................................................................................................................................

After the agents had sworn themselves to relative secrecy ten times over, the son of Poseidon and daughter of Athena carefully dipped into their history- a history they realized they hadn't completely talked through together. Coulson, and the rest of the team for that matter, observed in reserved awe as they detailed what had led up to the explosion of the St. Louis Arch and shootout at the beach, everything from the Minotaur to the limited training at their camp to Riptide to flying shoes. A shadow of a smile crossed Annabeth's face when Percy mentioned their ride in the zoo van. She hadn't thought about that in a long time.

"So you fought a god? At twelve?" Daisy asked cautiously at the end of Percy's first monologue. The demigod snorted. "Yeah, and won."

Annabeth shook her head. "Don't get cocky. You were on home turf."

Mack squinted. "Home turf?"

Percy exhaled deeply. "Remember when I said my dad was Poseidon?"

The majority of the room nodded in unison. They had started with that- yes, gods come down and... ahem, mingle with mortals to create demigods, and Percy was Poseidon's fault, while Athena graced the world with Annabeth (Percy's phrasing, not theirs). Percy laughed at the sight- it was quite comical, really- before continuing. "Yeah, well, like when I fell in the river- I can breathe underwater. I can make water do weird crap."

Daisy raised a brow. "What do you mean by that?"

The teen smirked deviously, brushing his wavy black hair to the side. "Why don't I show you?"

"Let's not right now," Mack interrupted, remembering all too well the wreck the boy had made of the Bus while half-conscious and unwilling to fix more than what Quake had already destroyed. "Explain what you can do. Please."

Percy's fingers tapped relentlessly on his thigh, his foot, clad in a government issued black (itchy) sock, bouncing anxiously on the floor. "I can breathe underwater. I can kind of morph the water to do what I want, like push me forward when I'm swimming, or I can summon waves, change the current momentarily... I only get wet if I want to. Water heals me to some extent, which, speaking of..."

The demigod proceeded to slide off the brace, tossing it to Bobbi, before undoing the wrap around hand. He flexed his fist cautiously, wincing slightly- it was still sore, but doable.

Coulson nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he started, storing the fact under a list of the weirdest things he'd experienced before turning towards the daughter of Athena. "What about you?"

Annabeth smirked, bumping Percy's shoulder. "I keep this one in line, and make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Percy grinned. "She's insanely smart, and an incredible architect, and probably the best fighter I've ever seen. She's a badass."

"And this badass has saved your ass on multiple occasions."

"Well, yeah."

"Mmm."

Percy was suddenly acutely aware of her body pressed against his and coughed, shifting away as subtly as he could before launching into the next narrative, beginning with Annabeth falling off a cliff.

And the two demigods popcorned between themselves, detailing the monsters they'd fought, the dam snack food, the Mist. They discussed Atlas, Artemis, holding up the sky, all the way to the fine beginnings of the Battle of Manhattan. All the while, the agents looked on in amazement. They couldn't believe what they were hearing.

But they had to.

"The River Styx," Bobbi interrupted at one point. "Becoming invincible-"

"Mostly," Percy shot in, sharing a knowing look with Annabeth while squeezing her hand. "Mostly invincible."

"Becoming mostly invincible," Bobbi corrected. "Couldn't any one of our enemies do that? That seems like something we should be worried about."

"It's not," Annabeth shook her head, before launching into the details of the Styx and everything it entailed. A mortal wouldn't be able to handle it. Percy shuddered at the memory of feeling as though his entire being was being burned away. Bobbi sat back, not entirely convinced, but had enough respect to listen to the two finish their story, to finish the tale of the Battle of Manhattan. They all sat in silence at the image of a teenager bringing a blade to himself, bleeding out on a palace floor.

Tears pricked Coulson's eyes.

These kids had been to hell and back, saving the freaking world, for what?

Because they had to?

And they had taken them from the whatever normal they had in their lives to throw them into a new form of chaos?

Annabeth sat forward, releasing Percy's hand to rub her own against the thin fabric of the pant scrubs. "What you need to realize," she started, addressing Coulson's entire team, "Is that this entire world of Greek mythology? Percy and I? It's all isolated from the mortal world- your world. Yes, sometimes it crosses over- take the storms when Zeus lost the lightning bolt, or the Arch- but our job as demigods is to subdue those threats before they affect the outside world. The Mist helps, but we're here stopping this stuff before it becomes your problem.

"Consider: you barely believe us as it is. You think you would have recognized the signs of a war in a city as busy and populated as Manhattan. The fact of the matter is, you didn't. And you didn't need to, because we handled it. Yeah, it cost us, but here we are.

"And maybe this team understands this. Maybe this team can live on knowing that our world is self-sustaining, maybe this team recognizes that our world controls itself.

"But if this spreads outside this room? If the public gets wind of this, or if someone who shouldn't gets this information, eventually the world will be a madhouse. We'll be fighting monsters, giants, titans, and mortals. We can't afford to do that. That's when we'll lose our wars, and that's when our monsters will start to hurt mortals.

"What I'm saying, is that the mutual benefit for both parties, the overall benefit for the good of the world, is that we all pretend we never met. Percy and I don't talk about your side of things, that you exist at all, and you forget anything we've said about Greek mythology. Everyone is safe. You protect people from what they're not ready to see, you protect those who can't protect themselves," Annabeth finished, throwing the Director's words from their first meeting back in his face.

(Too bad Percy was unconscious for that; he missed the true genius of her conclusion).

Percy cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. What she said."

"That was a pretty convincing argument, kid," Mack complemented, searching Coulson's face for some evidence of a reaction, but it remained stagnant.

Daisy nodded in agreement. "I'm convinced," she added, wishing that Lincoln was with them to see what had come from the slap in the face he had given her.

Fitz nodded once, and Bobbi gave a firm yes.

All eyes were on the Director, including the two teens. Looking into their eyes, he saw an honesty he couldn't ignore. A wisdom he had to trust.

He stood, straightening his jacket as the two demigods rose to meet him. He extended a hand with a small smile. "We never met."

Annabeth shook his hand, and then Percy.

"Never met."

...................................................................................................................................................

"Are we there yet?"

"Percy!" Annabeth groaned, slapping his knee from where she lay across his lap, trying and failing to get some sleep on the floor of the old S.H.I.E.L.D. utility can. His thigh was a terrible pillow; he wouldn't stop bouncing.

She couldn't really blame him for his impatience. He hadn't slept- at least not well- for the past three days. The first night he was plagued with nightmares about the consequences of revealing the secrets of their lives to the agents; the second he had dreamt the same dream about the counselor meeting and Gabe following the agents second look at their lives. They had answered many, many, many questions about the gods and their lives before going over the details of being returned home.

Also, Percy had bonded with Hunter, and Annabeth had received the opportunity to thank Lincoln, but that memory was forgotten with the stress of the current day.

The flight was inevitable: Bobbi had researched driving back to Long Island for Percy's sake, but the ten hour tag deterred them. The team was stuck with forcing the son of Poseidon into a Quinjet for three hours and surviving another two and a half in a van with the hyperactive team.

Five hours later, Annabeth, Daisy, and Mack had only heard are we there yet a hundred times.

Percy rubbed his sea-green eyes, yawning. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just bored."

No sooner had he spoken the words did a large bang filled the team's ears; the van lurched forward as small holes bore across the back doors of the vehicle. Annabeth flew to her feet, Percy following, his eyes now wide and swirling with the readiness for battle Daisy had imagined amidst their stories.
"What's happening? Who's shooting at us?"

"Keep your heads down!" Daisy demanded to the two teens, pushing them into seats across the wall. The Inhuman struggled to keep her footing when the van swerved violently to the left before maneuvering her way to the front of the vehicle. "What the hell is going on?" she shouted over the blaring of horns and screeching tires around them.

Mack cursed as the vehicle skidded through an intersection, narrowly avoiding a semi- the truck in which swerved into a small sedan. The Inhuman winced, hoping the passengers of each were alright. "We have a tail!" he yelled over the noise, his voice just a notch too loud due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Who?" she demanded. No one should know about this. This was a relatively low-key assignment, to take the two demigods back to Long Island. The ATCU had no knowledge about the two teens; they had picked them up early in order to avoid them gaining intel on the pair. So who the hell was following them?

May screamed something in her ear, something she couldn't understand. "What?" she yelled back, pressing the earpiece into her head so hard she was briefly afraid she'd get it stuck. The Inhuman glanced back at the two teens, shocked by their faces of determination rather than panic. Their fingers were curled tightly around the bottom of their seats; Percy had already pulled out Riptide, ready to fight. She opened her mouth to yell at them to buckle up, but the voice in her ear cut her off.

"It's Hydra, Daisy! It's-"

No sooner had Daisy comprehended May's words did a force slam into the side of the van, bending the metal inwards and launching the vehicle into a roll with a deafening BOOM. Mack yelled in surprise as Daisy went airborne, her body tossed throughout the cabin of the van like a shoe in a washing machine. The outside world blurred together into a single mass of color, and within the second she flew into the ceiling, her head cracking against the metal audibly.

Then it all went black.