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Percy sat in the school cafeteria staring dazedly at his sorry excuse for a meal. Today it was one of those gross chicken sandwiches, which he firmly believed were being imported straight from Tartarus.
He knew he should eat, but he didn't have an appetite. And it wasn’t just because of the horrendous food.
He twisted the newest clay bead on his camp necklace, running his index finger over the carvings of the names of people who had been lost in the war. He knew each name, he’d memorized the list. He hadn't meant to do it, but it was hard not to be haunted by the names of friends who had died so he could live. So he could fight. So he could kill.
Castor. Lee. Michael.
Who was he to engage in simple activities like eating and sleeping when so many couldn't anymore?
Ethan. Silena. Luke.
How could he be so disrespectful and pretend like things were fine, like the world hadn't stopped spinning, when he was half convinced it had? Or at least that it should. He didn't deserve to be here.
Beckendorf.
Only his surname was carved on the bead. Most of the names were first names, for the sake of space, but Beckendorf had never gone by his first name, Charles. Only Silena had called him Charlie.
Percy could tell which name was his just feeling the carvings.
“Percy?”
He snapped out of it and his eyes immediately met Rachel Elizabeth Dare’s bright green ones. The jarring contrast from her eyes to her curly red hair was oddly, chaotically beautiful. A couple months before, Percy might've blushed at the sight. Things were different now, though. Some things had changed for the better, in that regard.
Rachel’s brow was drawn with concern. “How long have you been zoned out?”
Percy knew she wasn’t angry with him, but he still felt guilty. He shrugged.
“I was trying to explain what we’re gonna do for that group project in history.”
“Oh,” he said dumbly. He hadn’t registered any of that. “Sorry.”
Rachel sighed. “It’s okay, I just… Are you okay? You just seem different since… y’know, everything.”
A war could do that to a person.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just tired.”
“Nightmares?”
He hung his head and didn’t say anything, but his silence spoke volumes. Too soon, the bell rang, sudden and shrill. Percy tensed up, eyes darting around for a moment. Rachel pretended not to notice.
She stood and he followed. “Math, right?” he asked.
“Yep. For both of us.”
“My favorite,” he deadpanned.
They exited the cafeteria and started down one of the several hallways, and an inordinately large group of kids seemed to be headed in the opposite direction as them for lunch. Percy had no idea why, but the impending doom of walking through the throng of people hit him like a brick wall. His heart rate spiked, and his hands started shaking, one of them instinctively hovering over the pocket that contained riptide.
Rachel, walking slightly ahead of him, didn’t notice his odd behavior. He tried his best to steel himself against the unreasonable panic, despite the pain in his chest and his quickening breaths. He had no reason to be freaking out over walking through a tight crowd.
His hands clenched into fists as he entered the crowd. Their voices were too loud, and their bodies were too close. Involuntarily, he squeezed his eyes shut, resolving to wait for them to pass, but when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t at school anymore.
He was on one of the decks of The Princess Andromeda, struggling up metal stairs through dozens of telkhines. He slashed through them with riptide easily, but the threat was hardly taken care of. Or at least that’s what he thought he was seeing.
Rachel, on the other hand, was seeing a very anxious looking, nearly unresponsive Percy. As the crowd passed she realized that he’d stopped several yards behind her. “Percy?” she called back to him.
Her concern grew when he showed no sign of having heard her. She cautiously made her way back to him. Upon closer observation, she realized his skin had paled, his eyes were closed, his hands were trembling at his sides, and he looked overall like he was going to pass out.
“Percy,” she said softly, “are you feeling okay?”
He swallowed and opened his eyes, but they remained unfocused. “Uh…” he responded, his voice barely audible.
In Percy’s mind, he was seeing a blur of fighting, monsters of all kinds, a giant crab, Luke, eyes golden and thoroughly not his own. His entire being was filled with fear and an overwhelming sense of guilt, but through the hazy memory, he couldn’t figure out where those feelings were coming from. Rachel’s voice was almost drowned out in the cacophony in his brain.
She was growing more worried by the second. “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and nodded absently.
She took him by the wrist and led him down the hallway until they came to an empty classroom. She opened the door and gently pushed him inside. By now Percy’s breathing had started picking up, and Rachel was beginning to freak out as well. She had no idea how to help him when he seemed so disconnected from reality. Talking him down from a panic attack would be one thing, but this was clearly… different.
Percy slid down the wall of the empty room until he was sitting, knees tucked to his chest, barely aware of what he was doing. He saw Beckendorf now, telling him to finish their job. He saw himself plummeting off the edge of the ship.
He saw himself hitting the button on the detonator, and then sinking below the crashing waves.
It looped in his mind, playing over and over again like a broken record. All he felt was crushing guilt. Shame that made him want to drown in those waves.
Rachel was agonizing over what to do. Percy’s sputtering breaths neared hyperventilating, and he held his head in his hands, grabbing at fistfuls of his messy hair.
She settled on calling Paul, hoping he wasn’t busy.
“Percy, can you hear me?”
Rachel’s voice was painfully distant to him. He wanted nothing more than to grab onto it like a buoy and let it pull him out of his own mind, but it felt too far away.
Rachel’s heart sank when he didn’t give even the slightest response. She kept talking anyway. “I’m calling Paul, okay? He’ll be able to help.”
“P-Paul?” Percy stammered.
“Yeah, if that’s okay.”
Paul was safe. Paul would be able to help. “Yes. Please.” His voice broke as he said the words, seeing Beckendorf’s face again. He could’ve saved him. He could’ve done better.
Rachel pulled out her cell phone and called Percy’s stepfather. Thank the gods, he answered almost immediately.
“Hello, this is Paul Blofis speak-”
“Hey, Paul, I need you to come to the empty classroom near the math class,” she interrupted him.
“Rachel?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Percy’s um…” she didn’t know how to explain what was happening. “He needs you. Please hurry.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, and hung up.
Rachel pocketed her phone and looked at Percy, who’s state appeared to have worsened. He was shaking violently and muttering under his breath.
“He’s coming, Percy, it's gonna be okay.”
“Who?” he asked quietly.
A lump formed in Rachel’s throat at the realization of just how out of it he was. “Paul. He’s coming to help.”
“Oh.”
The room went silent except for Percy’s erratic breathing. Rachel kept talking to him, hoping it would keep him from spiraling any further.
Paul arrived less than a minute later, looking more than a little worried.
He immediately knelt next to his stepson, who was curled in a ball and shaking like a leaf. “I’m here, Percy,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m here, and Rachel’s here. You’re not alone.”
“Paul?” Percy asked shakily.
“Yeah, bud, I’m here.” Paul gently took Percy’s wrists, and when he didn’t flinch away, guided his hands away from his head. “Think you can tell me what’s going on?”
“C- can’t stop it,” Percy choked out, breath hitching in his chest. “Don’t kn- know what’s-” he cut off with a sob.
Paul rubbed the boy’s shoulder, doing all he could to help ground him. “Hey, that’s okay. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”
Percy took a slightly less shallow inhale, but failed to let it out at the same speed. “‘M sorry,” he cried softly, shaking his head.
“It’s okay, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Paul assured him.
Percy heard the words and distantly wanted to scream that Paul was wrong, as he saw in his mind the face of a boy he killed.
Paul took Percy’s hand, placing it on his own chest. He breathed deeply and evenly, letting Percy try to match the rise and fall of his chest rather than having to count. Several minutes later, with Paul murmuring constant reassurances under his breath, Percy had managed to even out his breathing. Looking closely though, Paul could see the tears still trailing steadily down the boy’s cheeks from closed eyes, dripping off his nose. His breath hitched here and there, but it was more due to his crying than panic. He was still out of it, but whatever was going on in his head, he was at least breathing through it, now.
Paul glanced over at Rachel, who had at some point taken Percy’s other hand. His fingers were clenched tightly around hers. Her expression was one of concern. “Why don’t you go on to class, Rachel?” Paul suggested softly. “My lunch break doesn’t end for another thirty minutes, so we’ll be fine.”
“Is that okay, Percy?” Rachel asked.
It took him a moment to comprehend the words being spoken, even though the fog of memories in his mind was clearing up. He eventually nodded and released her hand. “Thanks,” he whispered hoarsely.
Paul nodded his thanks as well.
Rachel replied, “Anytime.”
Percy tensed up at the sound of the door closing behind her.
“Hey, you’re okay, Perce, it was just the door,” Paul explained.
He nodded.
“You with me, bud?”
“I- I think so,” Percy answered shakily.
“How are you feeling?”
Percy finally opened his eyes, rubbing the tears from his face with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Cruddy.”
Paul had to resist the urge to laugh at the kid’s blunt honesty.
“I was… seeing things,” Percy continued.
“I kind of figured. Seemed like you were having a flashback of some sort.”
“Oh.”
“... Wanna talk about it?”
Percy was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “I do, it’s just… it’s hard.”
Paul nodded in understanding.
“I mean, tons of kids are dead, because of me. And I- I could've done better, Paul,” he paused when his voice broke, a new wave of tears streaming down his face. “I could've saved them. It’s my fault they're dead.”
Paul’s heart ached for his kid. He really believed all that was his fault?
“Hey,” Paul said, opening his arms, inviting his step son into his embrace.
Percy looked up at Paul and immediately shifted over to him, basically ending up in his lap, head buried in his shoulder.
“None of that is your fault, kiddo,” Paul murmured. “You tried so hard, but you won't be able to save everybody, and that's okay. No one should expect that from you.”
That was all it took for Percy to break down into deep, shuddering, heart wrenching sobs. He cried into Paul’s shoulder, and Paul just held his shaking frame.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered next to the boy’s ear. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”
Minutes later, when Percy’s crying had died down, he whispered into his step dad's shoulder, “I’m so tired of feeling like this, Paul. I’m so freaking tired. ”
“I know, bud. I know. I’m sorry.”
Paul wished he could’ve just stayed with Percy in that empty classroom, but unfortunately, he was meant to be teaching a class in ten minutes. In that moment though, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than the boy he held in his arms.