Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"A shame to kill you now," Kronos drawled, making his way after striking Percy down, "before the final plan unfolds. I would love to see the terror in your eyes when you realize how I will destroy Olympus." 

"You'll never get this boat to Manhattan." Percy snarled, his arm throbbing from the slash Kronos dealt.

"And why would that be?" Kronos's golden eyes glittered. His face – Luke's face – seemed like a mask, unnatural and lit from behind by some evil power. "Perhaps you are counting on your friend with the explosives?" 

He looked down at the pool and called, "Nakamura!" 

The demigod that stabbed Percy in the back and aided in receiving Kronos walked into view and Percy’s skin crawled.

"Success, my lord," Ethan replied. "We found him just as we were told." 

He clapped his hands, and two giants lumbered forward, dragging Charles Beckendorf between them. Percy’s eyes widened and his usually frantic thoughts went silent. Beckendorf had a swollen eye and cuts all over his face and arms. His armor was gone and his shirt was nearly torn off. 

Percy unfroze, throat raw as he screamed. "No!" 

Beckendorf looked up and caught Percy’s eyes. He glanced at his hand like he was trying to gesture at something. Percy’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as his own eyes darted around. Then he stilled.

His watch . They hadn't taken it yet, Percy realized. They hadn’t taken the detonator away from Beckendorf. Was it possible the explosives were armed? Surely the monsters would've dismantled them right away. 

"We found him amidships," one of the giants grumbled, "trying to sneak to the engine room. Can we eat him now?" 

"Soon." Kronos scowled at Ethan. "Are you sure he didn't set the explosives?" 

"He was going toward the engine room, my lord." 

"How do you know that?" 

"Uh…" Ethan shifted uncomfortably. "He was heading in that direction. And he told us. His bag is still full of explosives." 

It all clicked into place and Percy could only hope nothing showed on his face. The Greek fire jars had been placed in the engine room. Beckendorf had tricked them by pretending to head to the engine room when he left. There was a chance that the plan of blowing up this ship could still happen!

Kronos hesitated. 

Buy the story, Percy begged, struggling to stay standing from the striking pain in his arm.

"Open his bag," Kronos ordered. 

One of the giants ripped the explosives satchel from Beckendorf's shoulders. He peered inside, grunted, and turned it upside down. Panicked monsters surged backward. If the bag really had been full of Greek fire jars, the entire ship would have gone up like in smoke, but what spilled out was about a dozen cans of peaches.

Percy could hear Kronos breathing, trying to control his boiling anger. 

"Did you, perhaps," he said deceptively calm, "capture this demigod near the galley?" 

Ethan turned pale. "Um–" 

"And did you, perhaps, send someone to actually check the engine room ?" Kronos roared

Ethan scrambled back in terror, then turned on his heels and ran. 

Shit, Percy cursed. Now there were only minutes before the bombs were disarmed. He looked into Beckendorf’s eyes again and asked a silent question, hoping he would understand: How long?

Beckendorf cupped his fingers and thumb, making a circle. Zero. There was no delay on the timer at all. If he managed to press the detonator button, the ship would blow at once. Neither of them would be able to get far enough away before using it. The monsters would kill them or disarm the bombs or, with their luck, both.

Kronos turned toward Percy slowly, face stretching with a crooked smile. " You'll have to excuse my incompetent help, Percy Jackson. But it doesn't matter. We have you now. We've known you were coming for weeks." 

He held out his hand and dangled a little silver bracelet with a scythe charm– the Titan lord's symbol. 

Percy’s thoughts were slurring because his arm wound sapping away at his consciousness and soul. "Communication device… spy at camp." 

Kronos chuckled. "You can't count on friends. They will always let you down. Luke learned that lesson the hard way. Now drop your sword and surrender to me, or your friend dies." 

Percy swallowed. One of the giants had his hand around Beckendorf’s neck and there was no way that he would be able to get him to safety, especially not with the wound in his arm. They would both die.

Beckendorf mouthed one word: Go. 

Percy shook his head, barely able to do even that. There was no way he could just leave him. 

The second giant was still rummaging through the peach cans, which meant Beckendorf's left arm was free. He raised it slowly– toward the watch on his right wrist. 

Percy wanted to scream, desperate to keep them both alive.

But then down by the swimming pool, one of the dracaenae hissed, "What isss he doing? What isss that on hisss wrissst?" 

Beckendorf closed his eyes tight and brought his hand up to his watch. 

Everything went dark, then silent, then all white. 

Foolish child, a voice spat in the blinding brightness of the void Percy found himself in. It is not your time, another voice chimed. 

Percy could only float in stasis, stuck between the pain and the numbness. He could only pray that the prophecy was already technically fulfilled and the burden of the child of the prophecy wouldn’t be Nico. He couldn’t fail him again.

If you had the chance to go back and prevent it, would you? A third voice inquired. 

What? Percy thought, that being the only real thing he was capable of doing in this void. But the voices didn’t respond again. And the all-consuming nothingness melted away into a long-ago-but-never-forgotten scene. 

A shower of gold dust shimmered around him, the haunting image of two red glowing eyes still burned in his retinas. Mrs. Dodds. What kind of sick joke was this? Percy thought as he clutched Riptide’s pen form. Why was he here? Was this some sort of life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing? But then where had he been before, in the brightness?

Percy didn’t know what to do, so he did what he knew he had done before. He went outside into the rain.

-

Something was wrong with Percy, Grover despaired. Something happened in that museum room a month ago. Something more than that Kindly One who went in and never came back out. Something that changed Percy to the core.

Something that Grover was out of time to figure out.

Grover kept a steady eye on his best friend as he listened to his old, barely-hanging-on, Walkman. Percy’s eyes were closed, his head against the window, his leg bouncing up and down and up and down. He had been like that since the Greyhound left Yancy. He looked tired. Worn out. Heavier than he should be at only twelve. Heavier than he was only a month ago.

Percy opened his eyes, dark and piercing, and studied Grover. “Hm?” 

“Are you alright, Perce?” Grover asked hesitantly, for what felt like the hundredth time this month. 

A smile tugged at Percy’s lips wryly. “Yeah. I mean I have you here to protect me, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-wh-what do you mean?” Grover’s eyebrows dove to his hairline. Alarm bells going off in his mind at the phrase ‘protect me’.

Percy only smiled, and a shrill metal screech saved him from answering. The Greyhound limped over and the driver shooed everyone out onto the side of the road as the smell of rotten eggs filled the air. 

Grover was stretched thin, looking all around in search of any possible monsters waiting to ambush. There was nothing around, they were literally in the middle of nowhere. Still, there was something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He focused on Percy again and followed his best friend’s gaze to an innocent-looking fruit stand. 

A fruit stand run by three leathery old ladies knitting. A fruit stand with the ladies all looking directly at Percy. The three Fates. Focusing directly on Percy. Grover felt the blood rush out of his face and grabbed onto Percy’s bicep. “Tell me they’re not looking at you. Oh goody, they are , aren’t they?!”

Percy didn’t respond. He didn’t even react to Grover grabbing his arm. Percy had finally lost his smile, seemingly lost in his own mind as the Fates continued to knit. The only reaction he gave to what was happening in front of him was a sharp intake of breath when the one in the middle, Atropos, reached and pulled out a pair of shears. 

Oh, no. Somehow Grover felt himself get even paler. This was not good. Not good at all.

“C’mon,” He tugged Percy along behind him. “We are getting back on the bus.”

Percy didn’t try to fight him, too stuck in his thoughts to resist as Grover positioned him back in their seat. Even now that Grover wasn’t looking at the fruit stand, he could make out the distinct snip of the shears. Not again, not another friend gone. He wouldn’t let this happen again if he could help it. 

Percy shuddered, coming back to himself. “I hate old ladies,” he mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“What did you see?” Grover demanded.

“Three old ladies,” Percy’s voice was muffled. “They were knitting. The one in the middle cut the string and now I feel like shit.”

Grover closed his eyes, feeling the sweat roll down his forehead. “They never make it past sixth grade.” He whispered like a death sentence. Maybe it was. 

The rest of the drive to the bus terminal was spent with Percy’s head against Grover’s shoulder in a poor imitation of comfort.

-

Percy had to get home. He knew he should have let Grover at least escort him home to ease his furry friend’s nerves, but he just couldn’t picture going home with another person when he knew his mom would be there. They had a lot they had to talk about. He had slipped a note with the Montauk cabin’s address into Grover’s carry-on anyway.

Percy had already made the decision on that long bus ride to share what happened with his mom. She deserved to know why he had changed so rapidly in such a short period of time. And well… he knew he could never hide anything from her. She was smart and resourceful and was always willing to back him up. And who knew, maybe he could save her from going to the Underworld this time around.

Percy sighed, head in his hands as the cab he called was driving him home. It was terrifyingly difficult to be twelve. Those three voices – the Fates he had deduced upon seeing their wrinkly forms knit their plan for the universe – had sent his memories back, but still preserved his mental age as twelve. They literally overloaded him with too much information for such a small mind and gods, did he have a headache.

Percy leaned back and fiddled with the straps of his luggage bags, trying to sort out his game plan for the next few weeks.

He would have to make it to camp. And keep his mom safe if he could but ultimately he knew she would be safe regardless. Check.

He would need to play dumb about his parentage. Not too hard, Annabeth always told him- Okay, even the thought of her hurt right now. Focus on that later.

Make sure he went on the quest for the master bolt.

Stop himself from decking Luke upon meeting him. That one would probably be the hardest.

Make sure everything goes (more or less) the same as before. No major changes that would make everything else harder to predict. That would suck.

“Ugh,” Percy groaned, dropping the straps of his bag and handing the cabby his fare as the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of his apartment complex. He was not ready to interact with Gabe again. But then again, he would never be able to. Percy reluctantly trudged up the stairs, dragging his feet along every step, desperate not to be in that apartment alone with Gabe and his friends. If he thought not punching Luke was going to be hard, not killing Gabe would be the ultimate test of his willpower. It definitely didn’t help that he had the emotional control of a pre-teen. When the door loomed in front of him and there was no excuse to not go into the complex Percy summoned all the patience he could fit in his current too-short body and unlocked the door.

You would think the smell would be something that would always stick with you. Percy did too. But as he opened the door he almost threw up. Yeah, he spluttered internally, nose blindness is definitely a thing.

The room smelled like rotten fast food, strong beer, and shitty hygiene that had a baby dunked in the smelliest cheese imaginable. It had eroded in Percy’s mind in the last four years without living in it but now it was brought right back to the forefront of his mind. 

Gods, Percy gagged, dragging himself into the apartment and shutting the door. Maybe I will be too weak from the smell to deal with Gabe.

“Grab me a beer, kid! A cold one from the fridge!”

Percy shuddered, suppressing the instinctual anger that rose whenever he heard that voice. He slinked further into the room, the rotten stink engulfing him. He grabbed Gabe’s beer and made his way to the living room, nose scrunching at the strong cigar smoke smell, and placed the beer on the poker table set up in the middle of the room and turned to go.

“Uhuh, nice try,” Gabe sneered. “Cash.”

Percy clenched his fists and gritted his teeth but stuck his hand in his pocket and practically threw his change at Gabe.

Gabe just cackled, not even looking at him and Percy could hear the cards shuffling as he raced to his room. After shutting and locking the door, Percy finally let out a breath and catapulted himself over the trash littering his floor, and landed on the bed, grabbing his old blue blanket to wrap around himself. Home sweet home .

These stupid stomach butterflies are going to gut me, Percy groaned, hunching further into his blanket. He wanted his mom. 

“Percy?”

A knock came from the door, and for a moment all was right with the world. His mom was here and he was going to be okay. Percy crept off the bed, still holding the blanket, to unlock the door, and then there she was. Sally Jackson, as beautiful and kind as when he last saw her. Percy didn’t care that he had an extra four years shoved into his brain, his mom was here and he hugged her without remorse. If this eventually turned out to be a big joke or hallucination, he was going to tell his mother he loved her before it was over.

“Percy?” His mom asked again, her voice muffled due to his head being pressed against her torso. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, bringing her arms around him and stroking his messy hair.

Percy choked back a sob, hugging her tighter. She didn’t ask again, she just pulled him to the bed and held him just as tightly. After a few minutes of crying, Percy pulled back, wiping his eyes pitifully. He needed to tell her. He couldn’t wait anymore.

“Mom… I’m not exactly the Percy who left at Christmas.” Percy wrung his hands but kept eye contact with his mom. “I- Somethings happened and- Well, it would probably be easier to start with just telling you that I know. I know about Dad.”

His mom’s eyes went wide and watered. “What?” She whispered.

Percy took a deep breath. “I know about half-bloods and monsters and camp. I know because for me this has already happened.”

The conversation went better than Percy expected. Granted, as much as he loved his mom, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure she would even believe him. But she sat there and listened and guided him back on the right track when he got off topic. His mom listened so when he was done speaking the lump in the back of his throat had shrunk from a boulder to a pebble. He looked at her hopefully, desperate for her to believe him.

She looked at him for a few moments, analyzing him fully before taking a deep breath, opening her arms, and pulling him into an embrace. “Oh, Percy,” She whispered, simply holding him. “You’re so grown .”

“You believe me?” Percy asked weakly.

His mother laughed wetly. “Of course, sweetheart. You are still my son.” 

That sent Percy into a whole new crying fit which was quickly soothed by his loving mom. 

“I’ll tell you what,” She smiled, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “We head to Montauk tonight and we head to camp tomorrow morning. Sound okay?” She looked heartbroken, as if she was sending him to die. 

Percy’s own chest felt like it was being stabbed. He smiled painfully anyway. “Yeah. I love you, Mom.”

He had not been entirely honest with her. He had left out the part of going to camp, claiming Grover had taken him after stopping by home to tell his mother. Sue him, Percy wanted to spend more time around his mom. If he had it his way, she wouldn’t even be taken to the Underworld. 

Percy gathered his things back from where they had ended up upon his messy entrance. He made sure to ignore all the one-sided arguing between his mom and Gabe, not being able to take it emotionally. In an hour, everything was packed up and in Gabe’s ‘78 Camaro with him still fighting about handing over the keys.

“Not a scratch, brain boy ,” Gabe snarled, dropping the keys in Percy’s hands. “Not one little scratch.”

Percy had to resist speaking by gritting his teeth and just taking the keys. Like before, he did the three-fingered ward against evil and took great joy in watching the door slam closed on Gabe. He then climbed into the car and they were off.

-

That night, at the house in Montauk Percy was revisited by the dreams that he only vaguely remembered. A stormy beach. A pair of fighting animals, an eagle and a horse, if Percy remembered correctly. The horrible grumbling and voice booming from underneath the ground.

The world was about the same when he woke up. He could hear the heavy raindrops battering on the walls and roof of the cabin and he could hear the heavy footsteps making their way up the porch. Quickly, Percy rolled off of the couch and met his mom’s eyes as she opened her door in a panic. “It’s Grover.” He confirmed. She nodded and went to open the door as Percy grabbed their bags. He heard the door open and hooves clanking down the hall. 

“Percy!” His best friend shouted, hugging him tightly. “You scared me! I thought I lost you! C’mon, we have to go!”

Despite himself, Percy smiled at his friend as they rushed into the car. 

“What’s chasing us, Grover?” His mom asked, glancing back at them in the rearview mirror. 

Grover just shuddered, looking back at the window, trying to see through the rain. “Something big and bad, Percy. We just need to get to camp.”

“Camp?” Percy remembered to ask. He could see his mother looking at him questioningly. 

“That summer camp I told you about,” His mom replied. “We have to get you there to safety.”

“Yeah, safety,” Grover snorted. “Safety from the Lord of the Dead and a few of his loyal minions!”

“Grover,” His mother warned and Grover deflated. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”

As if on cue, his mom swerved towards the PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES sign that marked the way to Camp Half-Blood. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor and Percy could hear her cursing under her breath. They were thrown around to the right as his mom swerved around a dark figure in the middle of the road. Percy felt his heart skip a beat. No, leaving early was supposed to stop this! He felt his skin go clammy. The Minotaur.

“Ah, Styx,” Grover spat, leaning forward. “Is there any possible way we can go any fa–”

The lightning that Percy was dreading interrupted him, hitting the car with preciseness. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt and more importantly stop them. If Percy was able to strangle a god for their bad timing he would have done so to Zeus right then and there. Now his plan of making it to camp sooner to avoid all of this was shot and he was right back where he started, knowing what was going to happen and not able to change any of it. 

“Percy!” His mother cried from the front seat. 

“I’m okay,” Percy coughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to undo Grover’s. “We need to get out of here, that thing won’t wait patiently. We need to get to camp.”

The lightning crackled around them and Percy could feel the hair on his arms standing up. 

“Percy…” His mother’s voice caught in a panic.

“I know,” He replied through gritted teeth. “We need to go now!”

“Percy, I can’t get out. You need to take Grover and run.”

“No!” Percy cried, scrambling out the passenger side door trying to support Grover. “You are coming with me! I’ll let you into camp! I can’t carry Grover by myself. Please, mom!”

As before she climbed out of the car and they started climbing Half-Blood Hill with a barely conscious Grover between them. Percy specifically refused to look behind them, too focused on getting up the slick, steep hill. He heard his mother try to get his attention desperately, but he could barely hear her over the rush of frustration and exhaustion in his head. He barely processed even the sickening crunch of the Minotaur destroying Gabe’s Camaro.

“Percy,” His mother stopped, managing to finally catch her son’s attention. “When he comes this way, you are who he’s after. Wait until the last minute then jump to the side. He isn’t that agile. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Percy grunted, shuffling Grover over to her. “Be careful, don’t let him get anywhere near you. Please .”

“Oh, Percy,” His mother smiled through her fear, even now. “I love you.”

It all happened so fast. The Minotaur charged at him, like before and he dodged, like before. It changed course and headed to his mom again and Percy had to watch, helpless as she disappeared. The beast then focused on the unconscious Grover. It was like a bad memory on repeat, only this time Percy had something he didn’t have before. The rage and control over his father’s element. 

“Hey!” He called, pulling off his red raincoat and waving it like a flag. “Come and get me, ugly!”

The monster’s nostrils flared and Percy solidified his resolve. It was now or never.

As the beast charged, Percy jumped up, using the water surrounding them to aid him in staying alert. Once again, he landed on the thing’s neck and pulled on a horn, hard. When he fell backward, he manipulated the water into putting more force behind the makeshift weapon and plunged it into the side of the Minotaur.

And just like that, the nightmare was over and reality sank in.

Percy felt numb as he trudged over to collect Grover. The rain had stopped so he knew the water on his cheeks were tears but he felt no control over himself. His mother was gone. Percy knew she wasn’t dead but she was gone and it was his fault. He mechanically made his way down the hill and he could hear someone calling for their mom. He knew it was him but it was all happening so far away. Like before he made it all the way to the porch of the Big House, and like before he curled up and passed out with the tears still warm on his face. He didn’t remember if Annabeth or Chiron was there, all he cared about was going to sleep and waking up to find that none of this actually happened.

-

Percy was scaring him. Grover sat beside him, watching his best friend lie in his lawn chair on the porch of the Big House. He had woken up a few times but hadn’t said a word or even really focused. It was like he wasn’t truly awake, he never responded. He just laid there.

Grover’s memories of that night were blurry. He knew that Percy was almost unreasonably calm the entire night. He had found it weird that Percy slipped an address in Montauk into his bag, but by the time he had realized it and gotten there, Percy just loaded his bags into the car and didn’t ask any questions. Even upon seeing the Minotaur, Percy hadn’t really been fazed. In fact, he almost seemed… angry. 

Percy groaned, rolling over and opening his eyes blearily. “Grover…?” He rasped.

“C-Careful!” Grover fretted, handing his friend a glass of nectar. Percy quickly downed it and his face morphed into a melancholy expression. He asked what happened and Grover just settled the shoe box containing the Minotaur horn into his lap. He watched Percy’s face shutter close. Percy closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and cursed.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Percy whispered. “Fuck.”

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” Grover sniffled, shuffling on his hooves. “I-I failed at protecting you and your mom and I’m just a failure at a satyr.”

Percy just stared straight ahead, not saying a word, but as he did in the car Percy seemed more frustrated than upset.

“It’s not your fault.” He said, still not looking at Grover. “You did your best at protecting me and- You did your best. Stop beating yourself up.” Percy turned and gave Grover a weak, but genuine smile. “You are a great friend.”

Grover was stunned. How did he… How did Percy know what he was thinking? He shook his head, taking the empty glass from Percy’s lap. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

Percy moved his neck from side to side, cracking it, and sat up a bit more. “I could use some water, but I think I am good to go.”

“Alright, come on,” Grover said as he helped Percy up out of the lawn chair. “Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.”

He watched his friend carefully, monitoring his reactions at his first look at camp. Percy looked reasonably amazed, albeit still in shock about his mom. Grover’s eyes scanned over the campers, smiling and waving when he was acknowledged but otherwise moving forward, shepherding Percy around the porch. When Mr. D, Chiron, and Annabeth came into sight, Percy stopped dead in his tracks. He squinted at Mr. D, letting his intense gaze drift over Chiron and he closed his eyes before he could reach Annabeth. Grover nudged his friend’s shoulder, concern filling his chest.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Perce?”

Percy just shrugged, eyes blinking open. “I got a bit dizzy. I’m fine now.”

Grover didn’t believe him, but he let it slide.

“That’s Mr. D,” He whispered. “He’s the camp director, don’t be rash. Beside him is Annabeth, she’s been here longer than just about anyone. And of course, you already know Chiron…”

“Mr. Brunner,” Percy smiled faintly. 

“It’s Chiron, Percy,” The centaur chided gently. “Come, now. We have four to play.”

Percy made his way over to the open seat between Mr. D and Chiron. Grover watched on anxiously, knowing Percy’s reputation with authority figures. But Percy just stuck out a hand to Mr. D insistently and stared at him with an interesting glint that Grover had never seen before.

“Nice to meet you, Lord Dionysus,” He said matter-of-factly. “I always loved the grape-flavored fruit snacks.”

Ah, shit. Grover groaned, hands flying up to his face as he watched Annabeth visibly startle. Only Chiron looked unfazed. Mr. D himself looked rather amused as he smirked over at Chiron. “Oh, I like this one.” He bared his teeth to Percy in a sharp smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Annabeth,” Chiron called to the girl still reeling from disbelief. “Go make sure Cabin Eleven is set up for our newest camper here.”

She nodded, stopping a second to stare at Percy, who looked like he was in some sort of physical pain when she acknowledged his existence. “You drool in your sleep,” Annabeth said simply before running off, her curly ponytail flying behind her.

“Percy,” Chiron said sincerely. “It is great to see you breathing. It has been quite a while since I went to personally oversee a half-blood. I am glad it all worked out.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Percy clenched his jaw. “My mother is dead. I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘worked out’. And besides, what even is a half-blood?”

“You figured out I was a god,” Mr. D remarked snidely as he swirled around his half-empty can of Diet Coke, card game forgotten. “You seem to not be a complete moron. Figure it out.”

“...Children of the gods?” Percy replied slowly after a moment of thought.

“Give the boy a prize!” Mr. D sneered, leaving Grover feeling uneasy. “Can you two make like a tree and leave . Grover and I have to have a conversation about his piss-poor performance this time around. Shoo, shoo.”

So that uneasy feeling with Grover wasn’t unjustified, good to know. “Alright, Mr. D, sir. I’m ready for any decision you are to make.”

“Lord Dionysus, can I vouch for Grover?”

All three of them looked at the tiny twelve-year-old with stormy, intense eyes. Percy didn’t even flinch. He went on. “Grover did his best to protect me throughout the entire school year. The only reason he wasn’t able to escort me across the boundary was because your father struck our car down with lightning. He is a good protector and an even greater friend. Please keep that in mind.”

Grover met his friend’s eyes, his own watering. Percy smiled assuredly. Gods, Grover loved his friend.

-

Percy thinks that went well. He didn’t immediately get on Mr. D’s bad side and even managed to stand up for Grover in the process. He was conveniently blocking out the thought of Annabeth and tried not to think about how soon he would have to interact with both her and Luke.

Just like before, most of the campers that he passed stopped and whispered and pointed. Percy ignored them though, mind other places. Gods, walking through camp felt like a stab to the gut. They hadn’t finished rebuilding from the Battle of the Labyrinth the summer before, and seeing everything whole again was throwing him for a loop. Everything and everyone was so familiar and so young it was disorienting. If he looked hard enough at the campers he saw familiar faces. Some who died. Some who fought beside him. Some who turned tail and left with Luke. The nausea in Percy’s gut seemed to not only be because of the grief he was experiencing again. Which didn’t quite make sense, he knew his mother wasn’t dead, but still he-

Percy sighed, moving his thoughts along if only to stop him from slipping into a panic attack. He was tuning out Chiron, still looking around, desperate to not fall back into old memories when a camper with curly blonde hair caught his attention. It wasn't Annabeth, both the blonde's hair and skin were fairer than hers. It was unruly and framed his face like Percy's often did when he couldn't afford to get a haircut and his mom was busy. The boy looked up and smiled, the first welcoming greeting he had gotten today. That's when Percy recognized him.

It was one of the Brennan twins, Castor or Pollux. He remembered because Castor was one of the first people Percy lost to the war. Percy hadn’t even known their names until after one was dead.

He hesitantly raised his hand back and the returning smile was even more blinding than before, his purple eyes creasing warmly. The twin waved to someone out of sight and hurried over to Chiron, hands stained pink. 

“Chiron! Is this the new camper? The one you were gone so long for?” The child of Dionysus panted as he tried to regain his breath.

“Ah, Mr. Brennan. Yes, this is Percy Jackson,” Chiron responded dutifully, voice fond.

The boy almost looked shy as he looked up at the centaur. “I can show him around camp, sir. I’m sure it would be easier if someone closer to his age showed him some things. Would that be alright?”

Chiron looked taken aback. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be an issue as long as you aren’t using it to skimp out of your time in the fields.”

The blonde snorted, waving a dismissive hand in the general way of the strawberry fields. “Pollux is more than capable of containing the other campers for less than an hour.” He then turned to Percy, his smile shifting more mischievous than shy. “Hi, I’m Castor. You are well met, Sir Jackson.”

That last phrase itched at something in Percy’s brain. “Was that… a reference to Shakespeare?”

Castor looked delighted. “Yes! Finally, someone gets it! It’s from The Taming of the Shrew.”

Percy grinned back at him, feeling his worry slip away. “It’s what that movie 10 Things I Hate About You is based on, right? My friend likes that movie.” That was a little white lie. Rachel technically wasn’t his friend yet, but Percy vividly remembered all the movies she had wrangled him to watch on her couch as she drew henna across his skin. That had been one of them that she was extremely passionate about.

“Oh, I think we will be good friends, Percy Jackson,” Castor laughed, linking Percy’s arm with his own, and started to pull Percy away from Chiron.

The centaur only chuckled and called to the pair walking away. “Do take care of him, Mr. Brennan. I’ll see you at dinner, Percy!”

-

“-and that’s why Demeter kids aren’t around the climbing wall when Ares kids are climbing it. The lava burns weren’t worth it for those knuckleheads in the end.” Castor giggled as the pair finally came up to the cabins. They had taken the long route, going over places both Chiron and Annabeth hadn’t explicitly shown him the first time. Castor Brennan liked to laugh, Percy learned, and he had a very nice one.

“Anyways, do you have any questions before we go over the cabins?”

Percy thought for a moment, bringing an absent-minded hand up to his lips and pinched the bottom one as he did when deep in thought. Potential questions rushed around his head as he stared at Castor’s back and the one that came out was unfiltered. “Why did you come to show me around?”

Castor slowed, turning so sea green eyes met vibrant purple. He studied him for a beat, then replied in a soft voice that grated on Percy’s nerves. “You looked overwhelmed. I know what that feels like.”

Percy felt an irrational anger building in his chest. “So you wanted to earn some brownie points? Try to have me owe you one?” He spat.

“What? No!” Castor looked bewildered. “I just wanted to make you feel more comfortable. I remember my first day at Camp and I wished someone would have done this for me. I was only trying to help.”

Just as quickly as it came, the anger disappeared. Gods, Percy was not looking forward to reliving puberty. He relented, sitting against a tree at the edge of the forest. After a moment Castor sat beside him.

“Look, I don’t know what you are going through,” The other demigod began. “I can only sympathize and try to help. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

Percy pulled his knees to his chest, head tipping back against the tree. “I don’t know. Everything is just so much and so fast.” He buried his face in his knees. “I want my mom.” He could feel Castor’s eyes on him but it wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be.

“I miss people too, Percy,” Castor replied gently, a hand placed on the other demigod’s knee. “They are safe where they are now. We will see them again.”

To Percy’s utter embarrassment, tears welled up in his eyes as he lifted his head to look at Castor’s face. “Why do you even care so much about someone who you haven’t even known for an hour? Isn’t that kinda weird?”

The blonde laughed lightly, squeezing Percy’s knee. “I like helping people. And, well, it helps that you seem… familiar.”

Percy gave into his urge to smile but restrained himself from leaning any farther into the other boy’s orbit, tucking that last bit of the sentence in his mind to deal with later. “Thanks, Castor. I owe you one.”

“Oh, hush! You owe me nothing. Now let’s go to the cabins before Annabeth thinks you got killed.”

“She already thinks I’m useless, there’s not much lower that bar can get.”

“Hm, you would be surprised,” Castor cackled, brushing off his pants as he stood up and offered Percy a hand. “C’mon, we don’t want to be late for an audience with Miss Princess. We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone!”

Percy chuckled wetly and took the hand, letting himself be pulled up and running to follow Castor’s long strides. The other boy chattered away, pointing out various cabins and residents on their way up the hill to the cabins.

Annabeth was leaning against the Hermes cabin with her nose stuck in that stupid architecture book that Percy knew she already had memorized. He felt like she just punched him in the gut with the critical look she scanned over him. He missed a step and would have fallen if Castor hadn’t grabbed his arm to support him. Turmoil was the best word Percy could think to describe what was going on in his head. He had so much around him and she just looked so young. She was so young. She was not his Annabeth and she would never be. This Annabeth hadn’t accompanied him on quests, hadn’t boo-ed shitty reality TV shows with him, hadn’t baked his mom’s blue cookie recipe in his small apartment’s kitchen. It hurt. It really, really hurt.

“-ercy? Can you hear me?” He vaguely heard a voice but that was enough of an anchor for him to latch onto. Percy nodded, already feeling his legs cramping from the fetal position he must have unconsciously fallen into.

“Good, good. Can I touch you?”

“Yeah,” Percy rasped, voice hoarse. He felt a pressure on the back of his neck and let himself loosen and breathe.

“That's it,” The voice hummed. “Just like that, Percy. Deep breaths.”

When he finally waded through the murky waters of his tangled emotions and came up for air, Percy saw Castor with his hand laying across his neck, a morbidly curious Annabeth, and most surprisingly a concerned Clarisse. Percy couldn’t keep his hysterical laughter in his head and it spilled out of his lips like sand.

“Glad that you are back with us, Percy,” Castor murmured from his place crouched beside him. “How about we go to the lake and cool off a bit? That work for you?”

Like before, Castor helped Percy to his feet and started to lead them away. “Make sure his stuff is fine, Annabeth! We will see you at dinner!” He called over his shoulder

“Brennan!” Clarisse shouted back. “Make sure the newbie doesn’t drown!” Percy wanted to laugh at the thought of him drowning but there was no one to get the joke. Castor shot a thumbs up in response and half-carried-half-led Percy to the lake. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, just about to reach the halfway point of its descent so it was in just the right area to blind the pair of demigods as they stumbled to the shore of the lake. There were a few campers canoeing but they just waved and went on with their activity. Percy groaned as he slumped down on the dock, dipping his now shoeless feet in the water.

As always, the water helped ground him, ironically enough, and it was enough to let some exhaustion creep in. Castor didn’t say anything, only sitting next to Percy with his legs crossed. For that, Percy was thankful. There was no pressure to answer any questions or provide any answers. It was weird that Castor seemed so comfortable and set him at ease so quickly. He eyed him out of the corner of his vision and decided it must be because he hadn’t really known Castor before. Castor Brennan had died and Percy hadn’t known him. He was basically a stranger, just like he would have been if Percy had met him when he was first this age. 

Percy let out a slow breath. If this was how he reacted to seeing Annabeth, he didn’t want to imagine how it was going to be seeing Luke again, let alone living with him.

There was a nudge on Percy’s shoulder. “You waiting for your toes to wrinkle like raisins?” Castor asked mirthfully.

Percy barked out a laugh, surprising himself. “Nah, I just really like the water. It helps calm me down.”

“Understandable,” Castor replied, leaning back on the heel of his palms. “Would you like to talk about what happened?”

“No, not really,” Percy muttered, shrinking into himself a little, expecting to be berated or laughed at. But there was none of that. Castor simply nodded and closed his eyes.

“Y’know, on my first day at Camp I threw my brother Pollux into a big barrel of strawberries,” He offhandedly mentioned.

“What?” 

“We hadn't gotten officially claimed, but everyone was so sure about who our dad was because of the eyes,” Castor tapped right below his eye before continuing. “And we had grown up hearing superhero stories of the heroes being healed by things they controlled. Pollux had a black eye – too superficial to waste ambrosia or nectar on – so I pushed him into one of the barrels of strawberries waiting to be delivered outside the Big House. He wasn’t healed but he did make them grow like crazy. Ah, well, good wine needs no bush and all that.” Castor grinned toothily. “We never really got claimed. Everyone just assumed then and there.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said softly, remembering the pain others had expressed when they hadn’t been claimed even if it was obvious. Remembering the full Hermes cabin with unclaimed Hermes kids littering the floor. Remembering-

“Hey, don’t get lost in your own head again!” Castor sighed. “I was trying to lighten the mood. It’s not something Pollux or I am ashamed of. Sure, it would have been nice for him to claim us, but that doesn’t make us any less his sons. We are the only ones in his cabin, after all. I’m not sure we would be able to live with any more siblings. We already have enough at home.”

“Home?” Percy perked up, not really remembering this from before. “Do you not stay at Camp all year long?”

“Pollux and I live down in South Carolina,” Castor explained. “Our mom used to be one of the bigger actresses down in Charleston. Cassie Brennan? Anyway, since we’re unlikely to attract any monsters we can’t handle, we tend to alternate summers and winter breaks. Dad gets us this summer, Mom gets us next summer. Dad got us last winter, Mom gets us next winter. Are you seeing the pattern?”

“I didn’t realize you could do that,” Percy began, unsure if his opinion would be unwelcome.

Castor just snorted. “I guess we are a pair of lucky demigods. We technically have both parents in our lives, however much one of them tries not to care.”

Percy wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he just stayed silent. In the distance, the conch shell sounded to indicate dinner was ready to be served and he stood, this time holding out a hand for Castor. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Percy said. “If you let me talk about my mom, you can tell me all about your favorite plays. Deal?”

“Deal!” Castor laughed, taking the hand offered to him.

-

Percy Jackson rubbed her the wrong way. Annabeth was used to being the one who asked the questions and knew the answers, and not being able to make sense of something wasn’t a feeling she dealt with often. She didn’t like it.

From the way he refused to look at her, to when he did look at her like she was dying right in front of him; it didn’t make sense! She had never met him before in her life, why did he seem to see right through her?

“Ugh,” Annabeth groaned, head hitting the edge of the table in frustration.

“You alright, Annie?” Francesca, one of her older siblings asked teasingly. Annabeth’s head snapped up and she sent them her nastiest glare. They only chuckled. “You know your glare doesn’t scare me, I have the same one!” 

“Don’t call me Annie,” She growled.

“Then tell me what’s up with you,” Francesca said.

Annabeth stared at the end of the Hermes table, where Percy Jackson was half-falling off his bench, sipping some kind of blue soft drink. “I don’t think I like him. He doesn’t make sense.”

“Aww, Annie is getting to that certain age, is she? Not all boys are icky, you know?”

Annabeth glared at her sibling but they just laughed harder. Sometimes, Annabeth missed being an only child.

-

The rest of that night played along close enough to how Percy remembered it. He avoided Luke like the plague, and despite living in such a cramped space, he was successful. Clarisse wasn’t actively antagonistic toward him, instead, she acted like he didn’t exist which he supposed was an improvement. Seeing Annabeth was getting easier and easier. Now seeing her only sent him into a mental breakdown occasionally . Small victories.

When allowed, Castor stuck by his side like glue. Because there were only two Dionysus kids, They managed to split time on the fields and when Castor wasn’t picking fruit he was laughing with Percy. He learned Castor was one of the best equestrians in camp, yet another surprising fact Percy didn’t know before. He learned Castor hated having eyes on him, yet loved theatre. He learned Castor loved putting peanut butter on his smores and hated green peppers with a passion.

Yeah, he spent a lot of his time with Castor.

Percy’s lucky streak of avoiding a certain Luke Castellan ran out three days later when it was time for sword-fighting lessons. Luke didn’t look at him when Percy could see him, but he could feel the heaviness of the blonde’s gaze when Percy was focused on his footwork. Like before, no blade felt right, but to avoid confrontation Percy didn’t mention it. When everyone separated into dueling partners, Luke swooped in and took his chance.

“Percy, right? Want to be partners?” Luke asked, smiling friendly enough if Percy didn’t already know how his face scrunched up when in rage. He didn’t know what to say, simply nodding and following Luke to the corner.

“You are pretty good at this,” Luke laughed as he easily dodged one of Percy’s purposefully clumsy swings. 

“Thanks,” He replied through gritted teeth, shoving the instinctive panic down. His saving grace was that the sword Luke was using wasn’t Backbiter. The lack of steel mixed with Celestial Bronze kept Percy anchored in the present. He managed to swim under the radar with intentionally mediocre skills and this time Luke picked one of the older campers to do the demonstration with. And everything was fine.

That Friday afternoon, like before, Percy sat on the pier with Grover after a long and hard hour at the climbing rock. This time, he didn’t ask about Grover’s searcher’s license and instead asked about Thalia’s pine tree. Grover spun the story again, still leaving out his part in it, and Percy closed his eyes as he was reminded of Thalia’s fate. 

It hurt more after knowing Thalia. In the back of his head, Percy knew that she was going to be fine next summer. He knew she was going to grow and heal and have fun. But just the thought of Thalia dying feet away from safety, not even knowing that her friends were going to be alright hit a chord in him. It felt too much like his last stand on The Princess Andromeda with Beckendorf. 

Grover hurriedly rushed him back to the Hermes cabin, claiming he looked sick and needed to lay down before capture the flag.

-

Percy was fine for capture the flag. He knew it, but it didn’t stop Castor and Annabeth from looking at him funny. They had probably heard from Grover his earlier “sickness”. Castor kept shooting him worried looks and it was only because Percy knew Annabeth that he could tell she was concerned under her prickliness. 

Unlike before, the Dionysus cabin joined Athena’s alliance so Castor helped get Percy into the proper armor and led him to the creek for border patrol.

“Normally, Clarisse leads the attacks,” Castor was saying fast and quiet, “but with how she has stayed away from you I don’t think it should be a proble-”

“Not so fast, crazy!” A rogue Ares kid, leading two others shouted as they charged towards the pair of demigods. “There’s nowhere to hide!”

Out of habit, Percy stepped back into the creek, readying his blade, and waited for them to attack. He could practically feel Castor’s surprise but the other boy quickly fell into a fighting stance and the beatdown began.

Percy knew that he should be holding back to avoid suspicion. He knew that at twelve he wasn’t as good with a blade and he should be trying to match that, but he was just so pent up. He was so pent-up and so frustrated. He wasn’t twelve! He was almost sixteen and even though he felt and thought like twelve-year-old him, he wasn’t twelve! He was having a hard enough time not subconsciously using water to help him fight, he couldn’t withhold both without accidentally slipping. So he took down one of the Ares kids by himself, leaving the other two for Castor to deal with.

Just like before, excited yelling announced Luke’s arrival back to Athena territory, and just like before the stupid Ares kids who came after the newbie cursed and ranted.

“Not too bad, hero,” Annabeth whispered in Percy’s ear, scaring him senseless. 

“Annabeth?” He heard Castor ask, bewildered. “If you were there why didn’t you help!”

“Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?” Annabeth ignored Castor, solely focused on him.

Percy only shrugged. “Fancy boarding schools have fencing lessons for the rich kids. I had to fit in somehow.”

She looked like she was going to rip his head off until he finally made sense before a loud howl filled the air. Glowing red eyes and bone-white fangs glinted in the dark.

Ah, shit. The fucking hellhound.

“Percy! Run!” Castor shouted, readying his sword.

It was too late and Percy was tackled by the stupid overgrown mutt. He could almost imagine Mrs. O’Leary was trying to play but he knew that he was stretching it. Arrows littered the monster’s neck, killing it, and gold dust sprinkled on Percy like snow. He felt the deep cuts in his chest ooze blood sluggishly.

“That-that’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment! How did it-?” Annabeth exclaimed.

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron replied gravely. “Someone inside of camp.”

“Percy,” Castor grabbed his attention, voice unexpectedly tight. “Step back into the water.”

He figured it out, Percy thought grimly, memories of the last time he was claimed now vibrant. Well, hanging with Castor was fun while it lasted. He obeyed and stepped back into the water, sighing in relief as the lacerations closed quickly. He closed his eyes, hearing the scared mumbling of the other campers, and knew the trident glowed above his head.

“Oh, this is really not good,” Annabeth mumbled, voice blank.

“It is determined,” Chiron declared and Percy flinched as he heard everyone kneel. “Poseidon. Earthshaker. Stormbringer. Father of Horses. Hail Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

The words felt like a death sentence and a promise all at once.

“If you had the chance to go back and prevent it, would you?” Clotho, the Fate responsible for spinning the thread, had asked. Percy wished he could have just died on that boat both six months ago and four years from now.