Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stars swirl above her and Annabeth can’t help but trace each outline she sees. Her eyes automatically try to find recognizable patterns, but it’s impossible. Originally, the plan had been to actually try and recreate constellations on Percy’s ceiling– that’s what he wanted and he had insisted on it multiple times. However, when the time came to place the glowing plastic stars on the ceiling, he declared that it was too hard of a task and he began to place them anywhere he could reach while standing on his desk chair. At one point, he had shoved one on Annabeth’s forehead and she had shoved him off the chair and onto his bed in retaliation.

They had laughed and it had felt good. The afternoon light had been flooding through Percy’s window and caused his room to glow with warmth. For a moment, everything had been forgotten; the wars, the scars, the losses. She had almost felt as bright as the room–they were okay. They were alive. The feeling didn’t leave, even as Percy finished sticking the last star and stepped down from his chair to admire the view. Bob says hello he had whispered to the ceiling and Annabeth gave the fake sky a small smile of her own. She had hoped it was a sign they were getting better.

It’s only been two weeks. Two weeks since Gaea was defeated and Annabeth’s still constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen. She keeps thinking she should research how long it takes for soldiers to readjust after returning home from wars, but she doesn’t want to be discouraged. If she doesn’t have the statistics, then she can keep fooling herself. If she just thinks about it like a quest, then she’ll survive the battle of this too and both of them will make it to their first year of college.

It didn’t feel like a war though. She remembers fighting Kronos and that had felt like a war. She remembers the years leading to those fateful days in Manhattan–the look in everyone’s eyes in knowing this is something they could potentially lose and everyone was aware of it. Fighting Gaea felt more like a crazy scavenger hunt or a Do-It-Yourself adventure book and they all wound up choosing the worst decisions for the bad ending before changing it at the last second. She wonders if the best ending was preventing her and Percy bleeding and birthing Mother Earth. The good ending would be defeating Gaea without losing anyone. And the okay ending is just her life as she knows it now: Camp Half-Blood picking up the pieces and burning shrouds for the dead all while a giant statue of her mother watches over them.

She’s thankful to be away from those watchful eyes. Now, the imitation stars glow above her. They’re not as bright as they could be, there’s a blue nightlight in the corner that prevents the room from getting truly dark and it seems to suck the greenish glow from above. If she had her way, they’d be sleeping with the lights on but Percy said that Sally looked so hopeful when she gave him the nightlight earlier in the week when he came home. Annabeth doesn’t blame him for trying it out, his mom is trying to understand her son’s trauma and nightmares–even if all she can really do is to buy him a nightlight.

The blue glow washes the room in an odd hue and it weighs uncomfortably on Annabeth’s chest. At least if the main light was on, she would be able to see the colors of things and if any shadows were approaching; this weird light seems to abolish shadows all while making everything look black and blue. It feels cold in the room and she misses the sunlight from earlier. She wonders if Alantis looks like this.

Of course, she could say something. She knows the moment she even starts that sentence, her happy to please boyfriend would be out of bed and turning the light on before she could even finish. She thinks he might finally be asleep though and she doesn’t want to ruin that. It takes the both of them far too long to sleep now and they only get a few hours before the nightmares scare them awake. Will says that it’s supposed to get better, but even he said that with bags under his own eyes. Chiron had mentioned getting in contact with a handful of therapists to help but he hasn’t heard back yet and Annabeth is beginning to feel like no one really knows how to handle teenagers who have been on the front lines of war. Demigods aren’t supposed to live long, maybe if it isn’t attacks from physical monsters then it’s the phantom monsters in your head. She’s tired of this game of one step forward and two backwards–haven’t they earned free movement? How long will they have to keep rolling the dice before something else delays the finish line?

“Annabeth?”

She doesn’t mean to, but she sighs. “What did I say?”

“No talking.” Percy murmurs into the darkness and she has no doubt his green eyes are open and staring at the stars as well. There goes her hopes that he was asleep.

“You make it sound like I’m bossy when you say it like that.” She mumbles.

Percy huffs. It’s not even a laugh, just a push of air through his nose. She misses the laughter from earlier. “You were the one who turned off the lights and demanded me to shut up and sleep.”

“I did not say it like that!” Annabeth gasps. She pulls her focus away from the ceiling and tilts her head to look at him. In the dim lighting from the nightlight, she can see his eyes focused on hers and she wonders just how long he’s been staring at her.

If this were a year ago, he would have laughed and argued with her. He would have said something stupid like she balanced a crown on top of her head while pointing towards the bed with a scepter. If this were a year ago, she would have tried extremely hard to make it look like she was annoyed at him all while turning a bright red. If this were a year ago, they wouldn’t have even been sharing a bed. Percy would have offered her the bed and taken the floor without question.

If this were six months ago, well… six months ago she was crying in this same bed as she tried imagining him with her. His pillow had smelled stale and more like laundry detergent than his shampoo or even the air of saltwater that seems infused into his skin. It was the closest thing she had to him though and so she cried even though she was aware of Sally outside the door. His mother had probably done the same thing too.

Now, it’s the middle of the night and there’s no tears this time, but there’s exhaustion beating along to the syllables of conversation. He’s using their bickering tendencies to distract her and she’s letting him. Maybe because she’s too tired to fight it tonight or maybe because she misses the moments where something doesn’t feel erased before it begins. She can see the outline of how this conversation should go hidden underneath eraser shavings, but she can’t fully make out the words and in their place is a void of silence filling the page until they speak again. She’s always enjoyed tests–she’s always found a sense of satisfaction in writing a long winded short answer or essay. She loves dominating the swirling letters into something legible. She stumped on the answer for this problem though. She feels that no matter what answer she writes, it won’t be fully correct and she’ll just end up erasing it again and again and again.

“No, you didn’t say it like that.” Percy admits quietly as he moves to lay on his side so he’s facing her better.

“I’m just worried, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth says a little bit louder. She shifts too, rolling over on her side and pressing her back against him.

Percy’s arm snakes around her waist, pulling her closer as buries his face into the back of her neck. He’s warm and her body relaxes into the heat. She can never seem to get fully warm now. Ever since… she doesn’t know if her body just adapted too quickly to the heat from the river of fire but now it’s like she has a permanent chill laced into her very soul. How is he so warm? His heat seeps through her old camp shirt and she closes her eyes. He’s real. She’s real. This is real. She’s already dreading when she has to leave and go back to her own bed; the weekend already is going too fast.

“Stop worrying, Wise Girl.” He breathes into her ear.

Her eyes open to stare at his wall. There’s a taped picture of her from when they were younger hanging on the wall and any other night, maybe she would have smiled. This afternoon she would have smiled, maybe even teased him. She remembers sneaking around and seeing that photo in his notebook and thinking for a week what the implications of that meant. She stares at the younger version of herself and wonders where her braveness went. A voice in the back of her head whispers that it fell too and she used it all to climb back out of hell. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself before trying to confront the issue head on.

“You need to sleep.”

Percy’s arm is still wrapped around her and his feet are wiggling at the bottom of the bed, even when they’re supposed to be relaxing, he can’t stay still. It reminds her of the gentle crashing of waves against a shore. There’s a slight stutter in their motion before the wiggling continues and it’s the only indication she receives that he heard her.

He’s not sleeping. She thinks maybe he’s averaging a few hours every couple of days if he’s lucky. There’s bags under his eyes and a weariness when he moves as if he can’t fully move his limbs. Earlier this week, Percy decided he wanted to spend a week home and he had offered Annabeth to come along with him, but she didn’t want to encroach on the household. Sally had called Annabeth at camp only three days later, inviting her over for the weekend and Annabeth has always found it easy to read between the lines of both Jacksons’ words. Sally is worried and it only seemed her worry doubled when Annabeth showed up at the apartment this morning.

Annabeth isn’t sleeping well either and she must look nearly as rough as Percy does. She was half tempted last week to ask Piper to charmspeak her into sleep but then that reminded Annabeth of Gaea and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.They sleep better together, they learned this on the Argo II; it’s easier to share nightmares with someone when they already know why you’re screaming awake. Sometimes it’s from the Pit. Sometimes, it’s Luke pulling her down by the ankle instead of web. Sometimes, Percy doesn’t make it out with her. Annabeth doesn’t know how much Percy’s told his mom, but Sally seems to understand enough–she’s a smart woman–and she doesn’t even make a rule about the two teenagers sharing a bed.

“I don’t want to.” He mumbles into her hair. She can feel some strands getting caught in his mouth and she knows she should be grossed out by it, but there’s something so human in this moment.

“I know.” She whispers back. “But everyone is getting worried.”

Here it comes. The Percy Jackson trademarked line of: I’m fine.

“I keep thinking something is going to happen.”

Annabeth squeezes her eyes closed tightly and she sees white splotches swirling and there’s pressure in her nose with how tightly she’s crossing her eyes under her eyelids. She was not expecting such blunt honesty and it’s like a knife to her chest. Maybe he actually listened to Will’s rambles and now he’s trying out a new technique. Annabeth has to admire Percy, he always makes things seem so much easier than they actually are.

Back at camp, Will has been encouraging everyone to talk. He says that if they voice their anxieties and nightmares outloud, then it will be easier to deal with everything. She wanted to go first, unload everything to either Will, another member of the Apollo Cabin, or even Chiron. She wanted to prove to younger campers that it wasn’t hard and she also wanted to be the best at it right away.

She couldn’t find her voice as Will had looked at her. He had sat her down on the couch in the Big House and she couldn’t even meet his eye. She had suddenly felt so silly. It would be rude to unload all her woes on someone else, wouldn’t it? She had told herself that obviously if nothing had killed her yet, then she was fine. She hadn’t even noticed she was crying until Will handed her a box of tissues.

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs, pushing even closer to him. “We’re safe now.”

Percy sighs, blowing more air past her ear and it tickles but she forces herself to stay still. “Yeah.”

Annabeth waits. She counts her heartbeat in her ears. Will had to push her, maybe she should push Percy? “Yeah… but?”

Percy’s wiggling feet pause in their pattern again and this time, they remain still. “The one time I let down my guard, Hera came in and took me.”

Her heart tears, she can feel the anger grabbing at the arteries and digging it’s fingers in. The rage she feels towards Hera is actually painful. “Percy–”

“It’s stupid, I know.” He huffs. “It’s just…”

She waits patiently as he tries finding his words. She wants to interrupt. It’s not stupid! His fears are completely valid!

“What if it happens again? We had like a month after Manhattan?” Percy points out.

“You can’t stay awake for an entire month, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth says softly. He’s voicing her unspoken fears too.

Percy squeezes her a little tighter. “I can try.”

“You’re joking, right?” She asks. “Percy, that’s literally impossible.”

“I know, I know.” Percy sighs.

Annabeth bites at her lip. She sometimes wonders if he has two mortal flaws; loyalty and stubbornness. She knows without a doubt that he would definitely try staying up for a month if it meant that he was keeping his loved ones safe. How can she even convince him otherwise; that they’re safe and nothing will happen even though she doesn’t fully believe that herself. All those words would just be empty promises and Percy deserves something solid–something he can trust above anything else.

She takes a breath before speaking, “how about I keep watch while you sleep?”

A pause. She knows him. He’ll feel guilty if he says yes. They’re both exhausted but she knows he’d trade whatever sleep he manages if that meant she would get more. Loyalty, stubbornness, and selflessness. He now has three mortal flaws or maybe two of those are just reasons she loves him but that doesn’t stop her from being annoyed by them.

“Nah.” He finally responds with a heavy sigh. She can imagine he’s trying to give her a reassuring smile.

She’s still going to anyway. She stretches, pulling away from Percy’s arms. “Move.” She orders.

“Oh, sorry ma’am, I must have missed the crown on your head earlier.”

It’s such a simple joke and her chest actively yearns at the sound of it. Percy’s not stupid, he knows that there’s a weird energy in the room tonight and by the sounds of it, he’s trying to fix it. Annabeth follows suit, poking him in the side slightly.

“And there’s the scepter.” Percy groans.

“Percy, just move over to your other side.” Annabeth orders again.

“I thought I was supposed to be sleeping.”

“And you were supposed to be quiet too but maybe some things are impossible.”

Percy rolls over as he now faces the other edge of the bed. Annabeth automatically misses his protective arm around her and the familiar chill is already sinking into her back again. Annabeth waits until he’s settled before turning herself around and copying his pose from earlier, wrapping her arm around his waist and pushing her body against his back. There’s a stray thought wrapping around her brain wondering if the small of his back is still sensitive despite no longer having the Curse of Achilles.

“Am I really being the little spoon right now?” Percy mumbles, too tired to even sound annoyed.

“Now no one can take you away without me noticing.” Annabeth noses his shoulder.

Percy takes a deep breath and one of his hands finds hers that’s wrapped around him and he brings it to his lips, kissing it softly. “Always have a plan for anything.”

Annabeth feels the ghost of a smile on her lips. “And maybe I just wanted to be the big spoon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” Percy’s voice is broken off by a yawn and Annabeth feels victorious.

She smooths his knuckles with her thumb and even wraps one of her legs over his. She knows he’s a tactile person and she plays on that feat. She can feel his muscles relaxing into her one by one. Maybe they should invest in a weighted blanket for him–actually, maybe she wants one too. They could use the same one.

“‘Beth?” Percy’s voice is slurred with exhaustion–he can’t fight it anymore.

She kisses his neck, “I’ll stay right here.”

“Thanks.” Percy sighs, growing heavier against her.

Annabeth holds him tight as his breathing evens out and deepens. There’s no way in hell she’s ever letting him go again. Anything can try to come in between them–god, titan, giant–she’ll fight them all. He’s her best friend. Her partner. Her other half. She will defend him from the entire world if she has to–he’s been through enough and he deserves only the best.

She can never decipher how fast or slow time moves at night–especially when there’s a godsdamned blue night light in the corner–she can’t tell if the light in the room is if the light is coming through the window or if it’s from the outlet. Either way, she only thinks it’s been an hour at the most before her eyes start to droop too. It’s always easier to sleep in shifts when there’s immediate danger at every corner; keeping watch while safe in his bedroom is a little bit more difficult.

She’s somewhere between being awake and asleep; she thinks maybe her eyes are almost closed or maybe the room suddenly is darker. Percy’s breathing next to her is relaxing and when she buries her face into his neck, his familiar sea breeze scent mixed with his shampoo fills her senses. Off-handedly, she thinks he needs a haircut. It’s the longest it’s ever been and while it makes him look even more godly, it’s going to start getting in his way soon. She grins, imagining the Aphrodite Cabin flocking to him and trying to tie his hair back so it stays out of his eyes before a spar.

There’s a twitch underneath her and she opens her eyes slowly. Was that her or was that him? They’re so intertwined at this point that she can’t tell. Maybe she was closer to sleep than she thought and it was just a hypnic jerk. She’s about to write it off as exactly that when she feels another twitch and she’s completely certain that it’s coming from Percy. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat and she tries comforting him the best she can. Nightmares aren’t new, she had just wished he had lasted a bit longer before he was plagued by them.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “You’re okay.” She unwraps one of her hands and brushes her fingers through his hair and suddenly, the next twitch becomes something more.

Percy jerks. His whole body flails, causing Annabeth to be pushed back and away from him. His momentum doesn’t stop just by being free and he flings himself away, falling off the bed with a loud thump. She watches as he naturally rolls into a crouching position as if he’s in combat for five minutes already rather than sleeping just seconds before. In the eerie blue light, she can just make out his eyes flitting wildly around the room. There’s a familiar metal shing and suddenly, there’s a faint golden shine added to the room as Riptide provides a slight glow of its own.

Annabeth’s heart begins to pound in her chest as her battle ready instincts scream danger at the sight of the sword. She’s only ever been on the receiving end of the sword during sparring practice. Now, it’s pulled protectively in front of him and she knows how fast he can point it towards someone. She sits up instantly, swinging her legs over the bed, ready to stand.

“Percy,” Annabeth says softly as she holds up her hands in surrender. She keeps her voice calm and soft. She learned that once during disobedience class for dogs.

He doesn’t say anything and she wonders if he’s heard her at all. He must still be in a nightmare. She knows better than to wake him up violently. If she wants him to be calm, she has to be calm too. She eyes the sword and then looks back up at his face. His jaw is clenched, or at least, she thinks it is. He looks otherworldly in this light blue light mixed with gold from his sword. This would be a hell of a lot easier if the light overhead was on.

“Percy.” She repeats.

Percy’s eyes flicker towards her, finally having heard her. They lock eyes and she thought she would feel relief in this moment, but instead she feels confused and possibly even more concerned than before. There’s no recognition across his face and he almost looks as confused as she feels before his eyebrows knit down and he hides his emotion behind a blank facade.

“That’s me.” Percy sounds unsure though, as if he doesn’t want to answer.

Annabeth feels calmer at hearing his voice and she takes a deep breath. Things are going to be okay. She begins to stand up, “I’m going to turn on the light.”

“No.” His reaction is instant and stern and it causes her to freeze and sit back down. He’s never used that tone with her before.

“No?”

Percy keeps his sword crossed and on defense. “Let me guess, the switch is by the door? The door which you can leave out of? Leaving me here and locking me in?”

Shit, okay. She’s struggling to understand what’s happening. Her lack of sleep is causing her brain to work harder than usual to catch up and she feels sluggish around the edges. Percy thinks that she’s going to lock him in here? He must still be halfway in a nightmare and he can’t focus on what’s going on around him. That would explain why he’s not recognizing her yet. Yeah, she likes this assumption, now she just needs a game plan.

“Okay.” Annabeth nods, going along with him. “Why don’t you turn on the light then?”

A pause and his head turns towards the outline of the door. “Is something going to happen if I turn it on?”

“You’ll be able to see better.” She says softly, trying to convince him that he can trust her with just her voice alone.

“It’s by the door?” He asks.

Alarm bells go off in Annabeth’s head. This is his room, he should know where the light switch is. “On the right side.”

Percy stares at her and in the light of Riptide, his normally green eyes shine with the reflection of gold and Annabeth’s reminded of Luke and then the eidolons. His eyes glitter with mistrust and she instantly revises her previous assumption. He’s awake, he just has no clue where he is. That’s okay. There’s no way that this is–no. No, everything is going to be okay once the light gets turned on. It’ll help him realize that he’s home. He finally moves from his crouched position, not taking his eyes off of her, his sword held across his body as if he’s waiting for an attack as he walks backwards towards the door.

When the ceiling light turns on, her eyes burn as she wills them to adjust as fast as they can. The light is so bright and it disorients her instantly, making her lose any type of grasp of time. She wants to glance at his alarm clock to check the time, but Percy’s still staring at her and she’s just as stubborn and she refuses to back down. Now that the light is on, he looks worse than earlier and it briefly reminds her of how pale and worn out he looked after Tartarus.

“See, you’re–”

“What am I doing here?” His voice is harsher than before. He’s scared, she realizes. She’s heard that tone far too many times despite him always trying to cover it up with bravado.

“In your bedroom?” Annabeth blinks.

Percy looks like he’s about to go on the offense with his sword. “What am I doing here?”

“You’re–we’re in your bedroom.” Annabeth’s mouth feels dry, dread settling over her shoulders. “We were sleeping?”

Percy’s gaze finally pulls away and he looks over his room again. The confusion remerges on his face and Annabeth wants to reach out and smooth the lines on his forward. Has the Cow Bitch done something to him again or is this something else? Annabeth has no clue and there’s a surge of anger towards the Goddess and Annabeth has the urge to scream. That’s not going to help this situation though and so she presses her nails into the palms of her hands. She needs to know if this is a nightmare, an episode, or something maybe even permanent; the faster she can calm Percy down, the faster she can figure out how to fix this.

“No–my walls are blue.” Percy shakes his head, eyeing his bulletin board that sits above the mess that he calls his desk. There’s drawings from young campers pinned to it, postcards from where other campers have gone, a copy of Sally’s ultrasound–Percy can’t make out the outline of his baby sibling, but he loves them nonetheless–and there’s a few different college pamphlets that he collected despite already being dead set on New Rome.

Annabeth shakes her head. “We–”

“They’re not green, they’re blue.” He reinforces.

“We painted them when your mom and P–you. You and your mom moved.” She revises mentioning Paul.

It’s a nice green, almost a seafoam shade. She helped him pick the color. Percy had naturally gravitated towards the blue swatches and it was Paul’s idea to try something different. Naturally, that made Percy buckle down harder on blues until Annabeth waved the green paper in his face. Once everything was painted, his stubborn ass had finally admitted that he liked the color.

“Moved?” Percy repeats.

“Percy…” Annabeth takes a risk. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Percy shakes his head, his sword swinging to his side. She knows better to think the threat of the blade is gone though, she can see his tight grip. “Why would we move?”

“You grew out of the space.” Annabeth says cryptically.

So, he’s having memory issues. That’s putting it lightly and she knows it; he can’t even remember her or his bedroom. Vaguely, she wonders if this is how he woke up at the Wolf House after Hera took him. She needs to figure out exactly what he knows and work from there. If this is permanent, she’ll have to get Sally involved. If it’s temporary though, maybe they just need to ride out whatever this is. Annabeth doesn’t remember hearing if Jason ever had flashbacks like this; Piper would have told her if he did. All things considered though, Jason also doesn’t have his full memories back. Percy also got thrown straight into another war with barely any memories. So, maybe she shouldn’t be comparing the two.

“Percy,” she tries to keep her voice as calm and warm as possible. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do I know that?” Percy argues, sword coming back across his chest.

Annabeth shakes her head. “Because, I just told you.” She holds up her hands slowly. “Besides, I don’t even have anything to fight you with.”

He studies her. He looks at her hands, the bed, the door, then back at her hands. “Shouldn’t you have–” He winces, letting go of his sword with one hand and rubbing his forehead.

“Deep breath, baby.” Annabeth instructs. “Breathe through it, whatever it is, don’t fight it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Percy shouts, the sword now pointing directly at Annabeth. There’s a creaking from the pipes in the wall that is shared with the bathroom.

“Okay.” Annabeth says quickly, keeping her hands up to show they’re still empty. She refuses to be scared of her boyfriend right now. Of the situation, yes? Of Percy? No. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You’re supposed to have something.” Percy says with more intensity, as if saying it louder will help him remember. His eyes dart to her hip and Annabeth understands instantly.

Her dagger.

He’s looking for the lost dagger.

“And–and–no.” Percy mumbles, the angle of the sword has dropped, no longer aiming at her throat. “That’s not–where’s my mom?”

“Sally’s in her bedroom.” Annabeth can hear the next question and so she answers before it happens. “She’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping.” Percy repeats, eyes pulling to the bedroom door.

Annabeth takes a large breath, lowering her hands now that his piercing gaze isn’t on her. “You were sleeping.”

Percy’s eyebrows scrunch together again and he glares at the door, “where’s… nngh!” He growls in frustration, grabbing his head again.

Annabeth takes a large chance, thinking that maybe she has an understanding of the situation. Slowly, careful not to startle him, she sits back further on the bed. She keeps an eye on him, making sure he doesn’t make any sharp movements in her direction as she stretches towards the wall she was facing earlier. Carefully, she peels the picture from the wall, making sure that it doesn't tear from the amount of tape to keep it up–a voice in her head tells her to tease him later about the roll of tape he must have wasted for one photo. It comes off the wall and she holds it gingerly, returning back to her original position on the edge of the bed.

“Are you looking for someone?” Annabeth prays that she’s right.

Percy looks back at her, “My mom and…” He looks pitifully confused, giving up on Annabeth being a threat as he looks over to his window as if someone will climb through the fire escape and give him the answers. “And…”

She holds the picture out to him, “her?”

Percy’s attention is drawn from the fire escape and he looks at Annabeth hesitantly before looking down at the picture. He takes it slowly and brings it to his face to get a better look. The reaction is immediate as his shoulders slump in relief and he sighs. “Her.”

Annabeth is only five years older than the picture, but a lot has happened from then to now and she’s not surprised how different she looks.

“Her.” Percy repeats again, resting the hilt of his sword against the bed frame so he can hold the picture with both hands. The energy around him feels calmer now. “Where is she?”

Annabeth slowly stands, “Percy.”

“I need to find her.”

“Percy.”

“She could be in danger.” Percy begins to tense and the pipes in the walls groan again.

Annabeth gently pushes the photo down from Percy’s eyesight, “I’m right here.”

There’s a wild look in Percy’s eyes as stares at Annabeth’s face. For a brief moment, she’s scared that he’s not going to recognize her. There’s confusion and fear churning in his expression and she holds her breath; she’s not sure what to do if this doesn’t work. Finally, there’s a swirl of something and he blinks and then he blinks again, harder this time.

“Annabeth?”

She lets out her breath in a shaky sigh. “It’s me.”

He looks down at the picture in his hands, back to her, and then to his sword. Horror replaces his confusion. “Oh gods. Annabeth, I didn’t mean–I couldn’t– I would never–“

“Hey,” Annabeth grabs his hips on either side, forcing him still. “I’m not mad. I knew you wouldn’t do anything. I trust you.”

And she does. Despite how much power flows through his veins, how dangerous he can be, Percy Jackson will never harm her.

His hands tremble as he clutches the picture still, “I don’t know what’s happening.”

She doesn’t either but she doesn’t want to freak him out more than he already is. “You fell asleep and had a nightmare, now you’re having some memory issues.”

“I’m forgetting again?” His voice small and shaking, the sternness from earlier washing away. He’s not in imminent danger; he can show weakness again.

“I don’t think so.” At least, Annabeth hopes. It seems like slowly regaining himself again. “I don’t think you’re getting enough sleep and when you finally relaxed, I think your brain freaked out?”

Percy stares at her picture. “Is it going to keep happening?”

“I don’t know.” She hates not knowing. “Maybe… it’s just a flashback?”

Can you even have flashbacks with amnesia? She almost has to scoff at that question because, honestly, at this point anything is possible. The boy she loves controls water with his mind, so yes. That’s the answer to most of her questions nowadays; if she questions if something is possible, it will always be a yes.

He looks around again and there’s more recognition filling his eyes. “Guess I was right.”

“What?”

“Something did happen.” He sounds so exhausted.

“No.” It’s Annabeth’s turn to be stern. “You’re home. You’re not taken.”

“Yeah, I’m just losing my mind instead.” Percy argues.

Annabeth digs her fingers tighter into his sides. “Percy Jackson, you are allowed bad nights. You are not losing your mind.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he stops and slouches. “What if this keeps happening?”

“Then…” Annabeth takes the picture out of his hand and lays it on his desk before standing in front of him again. “We do this again.”

Percy pouts down at her, “like the movie?”

She wipes away a tear that’s started to trail down his cheek. “What movie–The Notebook?” Piper showed her that movie last winter.

“I was gonna say 50 First Dates but I like yours better.”

Annabeth purses her lips, she doesn’t know that movie. “We don’t know that it’s going to happen again.”

“How do you know won’t?”

“How do you know it will?” She counters and he looks away, a few more tears dripping down his cheeks. She wipes them away and pulls at him gently, bringing him closer to the bed. “Whatever happens, we’re together.”

Percy misinterprets the movement though and suddenly, she’s crushed in a tight hug as he holds her as if the rest of the world is fading away. She thinks she hears him apologize. She wants to scream and argue that none of this is his fault, but she’s clever–her mother is Athena after all and she can recognize the proper time to have a battle. Holding her mentally fragile boyfriend in the middle of the night doesn’t seem the right time to pick a fight. She holds him back just as tightly instead.

She doesn’t need to search it–she already knows that this type of PTSD is going to take years to get over. They’ve taken only one step forward since Gaea and now they’re stumbling backwards. Annabeth will take stumbling over falling any day though–at least they’re still looking forward. She rubs circles in Percy’s back and she can feel him shake as he cries quietly. She can’t think of anything to say and she doesn’t think it will help right now anyway. They stand like this until her arm grows sore of soothing circles and his crying turns into an occasional sniffle.

“Feel better?” Annabeth asks, breaking the silence.

“Not really,” Percy mumbles into her hair, a few strands clinging to his lips. “I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

Annabeth hums, not pulling away just yet. “Do you want to try sleeping again?”

“What if it happens again?” He repeats, anxiety lacing through his words.

“We don’t know until you try.” She reasons. Who knows, maybe this was just a fluke.

A pause. She knows him. He wants to say no, but he knows that’s not the right answer. She’s ready to fight him this time. To hell with Annabeth’s own trauma, if Percy needs Piper here to charm him to sleep, Annabeth will get the daughter of Aphrodite here before the sun even comes up.

“Can we keep the light on?”

Annabeth pulls away from the hug, wiping his red, swollen face again. “Of course.”

He sniffles again and looks up, “so much for the stars in the dark.”

“They’ll be there when you’re ready.” Annabeth guides him to the bed and he surprisingly lays down willingly.

Percy looks at her as he puts his head on the pillow. “Can I be the small spoon again?”

Annabeth can’t help the smile that pulls on her lips. “Do you want my crown while you’re making demands?”

Percy huffs a small noise and it sounds close enough to a laugh, “it’s too small for my head.”

“Damn right it is.” Annabeth mutters, climbing into the bed and wrapping herself around his back.

He pushes against her, pulling her arms even tighter around him. With the light on, she is able to trace different strands and random stray curls in his hair. She presses her face into his shoulder so hard that she has to hold her breath as her nose is pushed as flat as it can go. She wishes she had skills like Reyna and she tries imagining it, pushing all her tired energy at Percy so he can fall back asleep.

Even if he does wake up in a few hours with no memory again, that’s okay. If it does happen again, she knows that the memories do come back. Her nerves calm at that thought. She would happily spend every single morning slowly easing Percy’s memories back. They’re together and that’s all that matters. They can face anything as long as they’re together.

She doesn’t mean to, but she falls asleep. One moment, she’s thinking up plans of how to stimulate Percy’s memory faster each time he wakes up and the next, the sun is beginning to trickle through his blinds. The artificial light from the ceiling doesn’t feel as harsh now and she blinks slowly, trying to regain her bearings. If she had nightmares, she can’t remember them and oh, the irony in that statement. If only Percy’s amnesia could only work on nightmares–gods, life would be easier without those.

She’s guessing it’s been a couple of hours since they fell asleep after . She doesn’t feel as well rested as she should, but it’s better than nothing. Her arm feels numb from where Percy is laying on it, but she doesn’t dare move. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep and she wants to keep it that way for as long as possible. He’s fully relaxed against her and there’s a deep and steady rise and fall to his chest as he breathes in and out. Suddenly, Annabeth wishes he was facing her so she could see his face; she bets it looks relaxed and she misses seeing anything other than stress and exhaustion on his features. For now, she’ll have to survive on imagination alone.

The moment of quiet peace doesn’t last long; here’s a noise in the kitchen, something clattering followed by a shushing noise from Sally. Percy’s head lifts sluggishly, as if his entire body is fighting the movement and trying to stay asleep. Annabeth holds her breath, unsure how the rest of his reaction is going to go based off of last night. After a few seconds of hearing nothing else, his head falls back down and he sighs deeply. He’s awake though, his feet twist and turn as they begin the familiar wiggling.

“Morning.” She whispers into his back. Percy moves his head towards her. “Do you know where you are?”

Percy groans quietly, pushing his face into the pillow. “In bed.”

She smiles, “and where is your bed?”

“Home.” His voice is scratchy with sleep.

“Do you remember who is at home with you?” Annabeth asks.

“Mom, Paul, and you.” Percy lifts his head away from the pillow. “I remember.”

Annabeth sighs in relief. “You remember.”

Chapter Text

There’s nothing on the television to watch. Well, technically there always is but Paul doesn’t want to watch anything that the channels are providing. He checks his phone and places it back face down on the couch cushion; his sounds are on, he’ll know if he’ll get a text or a call. He bounces his leg and tries to search for a movie–maybe he should try Netflix? Something to waste his time as he waits.

He checks his phone again, just seconds after he locked the screen. The clock displays the time inching ever closer to noon. On any other Friday, his class would be getting out in five minutes and he’d have roughly forty minutes to eat, use the restroom, and get ready for the next group of students. Originally, he had planned to take some time off today to go to the doctor with Sally, there was even a subbed planned for two of his periods.

Usually, he goes with Sally to her check ups. He gets excited every time to hear the baby’s heartbeat and to just double check that his wife is doing alright. Today’s plans were thrown off track though and now he’s staying home in favor of watching Percy. His stepson must have forgotten to set his alarm for school and neither Sally nor Paul had the heart to wake him. It’s been hard to get the teenager to sleep and on a good day, Paul jokes that it’s practice for when the baby is born. On bad days, Paul rarely says anything as Sally holds her son as the bags under his eyes darken by the minute.

Sally had offered to reschedule to stay at home, but Paul decided to take the entire day off instead. His classes have been reading Shakespeare and substitute plans were fairly easy to make; have the students proceed on reading Hamlet outloud and make sure they stay on track. To be honest, Percy is old enough to stay at home by himself but Paul had seen the concerned look in Sally’s eye and offered to stay at home without even thinking. It’s an unspoken agreement that Percy needs a little bit more TLC since returning from a nearly year long quest and Paul is more than happy to supply it today.

There’s no floor boards creaking. He doesn’t hear dramatic breathing behind him. What alerts Paul is the prickling on the back of his neck like someone is staring at him. He lets the feeling sit for a moment, deciphering if it’s actually something or just his anxiety manifesting in another way. He only lasts a few seconds before craning his neck and checking over his shoulder.

“Shit!”

Paul can’t help but jump at seeing his stepson standing awkwardly in the hallway leading into the living room. His black hair is sticking up on the right side–fondly, Paul thinks of Sally, her hair looks the same when she wakes up too–and the side of his face is red with slight indentations from where the pillow sham was wrinkled against his cheek. Percy must have fallen deep asleep for him not to move and receive those lines.

Paul feels a little hopeful at that thought–Percy sleeping is a good thing. Ever since coming back from his disappearance and defeating Gaea, the kid has had issues sleeping. It’s not just normal insomnia either, it’s the type of sleeping patterns that Paul has learned about by watching far too many WWII documentaries. Soldiers take a while to adjust and Percy had been gone close to year right after finishing his first war.

They barely even had time to really celebrate the fact that Percy didn’t die in a tragic prophecy before he was stolen from right underneath their noses. Sally refrained, but Paul didn’t. He cursed the bitch who stole him every single day until they had him back. If he’s being honest, he still does sometimes. He doesn’t care if Hera is a goddess or not–who the hell steals children? He knows for a fact that if she had just asked, Percy would have gone willingly. Not to mention, it would have been easier on everyone–especially Sally–if they had even had a hint or an inkling of what was going on.

Paul tries to force his heart to calm down. “Hey, kid. Didn’t hear you come in.”

Percy stares at Paul. His eyes today look more like sea glass than the ocean. They’re blank, as if his brain hasn’t started thinking yet but his body already started moving.

“You alright?” Worry begins forming at the pit of Paul’s stomach. Let’s be real, he’s always worried when it comes to Percy.

Percy looks around the apartment, face still carefully blank as if he’s not fully registering everything around him. “I…” His right hand is stuck in his pajama pocket.

The worry solidifies now. Percy explained it to him once, but it wasn’t until Manhattan that it had made sense to Paul. The pen turns into a sword–not a golden bat like Paul’s mortal brain sees–but an actual sword. A sharp weapon in the hands of a teenager who has been deathly trained in it. While in pen form, it stays in Percy’s pocket. Even if Percy loses it, it comes back to his pocket. Don’t ask Paul how. He doesn’t know. It’s something he can’t really understand and so he just labels it as magic and moves on. What he does understand though is that Percy tends to grab the pen when he’s uncomfortable.

Paul sits straight up, twisting more around so he can look at Percy better. “Did you have a nightmare?”

The act of nightmares is something Paul understands easily, the nature of Percy’s is a harder concept to grasp. Sometimes they’re prophetic? Maybe? Sometimes they’re dramatic flashbacks to terrible things? Percy explained Tartarus to Sally and Paul but the kid left out a lot of details. They learned that after multiple days of Percy screaming awake. Sally had called Percy’s camp and pulled Paul into the room as well, claiming it was a family matter everyone needed to know about even if he fully didn’t understand. The warmth in his heart at being labeled as family was quickly blown out as they heard the explanation.

The screaming had suddenly made more sense as Chiron–he’s a centaur, not a man in a wheelchair. He’s a goddamn centaur--explained more of the situation than Percy did. Before Percy and Annabeth even fell into hell, they were already fighting for their lives against Romans, Giants, and any other monster that thought the group of demigods looked tasty. Percy had made it sound like the trip in Tartarus wasn’t even a full day. Chiron explained that it was, in fact, multiple days and even he doesn’t know exactly how many; time works differently down there and Percy and Annabeth aren’t exactly honest about these things. Even if he takes away Tartarus, there’s the fact that the two teenagers were used to wake Gaea and she tried killing everyone they loved. Paul felt like he would have nightmares from just hearing everything.

Percy blinks, still looking around the apartment slowly. “Huh?”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Paul is almost positive Percy did and now he’s glad he stayed at home.

“Uh… yeah.” Percy sounds uncertain.

“Can’t tell if you’re awake?”

Percy’s eyes settle on Paul. “How did you…”

“Nightmares aren’t just a demigod skill, Perce.” Paul stands up, “I’ve got a trick to help.” He walks around the couch. “How many fingers are we supposed to have?”

“... Ten.” Percy looks unsure. He doesn’t take a step back as Paul approaches, but his shoulders tense.

“If there are extras, then you’re still dreaming.” Paul holds up his hands on display.

Percy isn’t looking at Paul’s hands though, he’s staring at Paul. “Okay?”

“You’re supposed to count them.” Paul says softly, almost a whisper as he nudges Percy along.

“Oh, right.” Percy's attention turns to Paul’s finger and slowly, he begins counting out loud. The glassy aspect of his eyes hasn’t faded entirely, but his focus definitely sharpens with each number. “Ten,” he finishes. “There’s only ten.”

“So?”

Percy looks at Paul like he’s trying to figure out why Paul is helping and then back at the fingers still being held up. “I’m awake?”

“You’re awake.” Paul brings his hands back down. He checks the clock on the wall. “You slept… five hours? That’s longer than I thought you would.”

Paul is at least assuming it’s five hours. He had heard the toilet flush a few minutes before his work alarm went off this morning and the only logical explanation was that it was Percy considering Sally was still asleep in their bed. Although, thinking about it now, is it possible that Percy is able to flush toilets with his powers? It wouldn’t surprise Paul; maybe instead of sleepwalking, it was sleepflushing. No, that’s stupid. Stupider than a pen turning into a sword? Okay, so maybe he won’t cross sleepflushing off his list of possibilities.

Percy shifts awkwardly. He takes a step back, looking down at their feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t m–” He’s broken off by a long growl coming from his stomach.

Paul laughs. Percy and his appetite–it’s a never ending battle. “Hungry?”

“No.” Percy’s cheeks redden quickly as his stomach rumbles again. “Maybe.”

Another chuckle breaks through Paul along with a wave of fondness. He tilts his head towards the kitchen with a wink. “I think we got stuff to make pancakes?” He doesn’t wait as he starts to make the short trek to the kitchen, however, he pauses when he doesn’t hear Percy in tow. “You coming to help?”

“Yeah!” Percy sounds alarmed and he quickly follows into the kitchen.

Paul’s trying not to read too much into his stepson’s behavior. He remembers times upon waking up that he didn’t feel truly awake. The feeling as the walls distort and sunlight streaming in through windows feels too bright. He hears Percy’s steps enter the kitchen as his back is turned.

“I’ll even let you put as much blue food dye as you want.” Paul opens the cabinet, looking for the flour. It’s a tradition between Percy and Sally, but he has an inkling either won’t mind if it’s to help Percy feel better.

The shadow Paul has been watching out of the corner of his eye stills. “You don’t believe in blue food?”

Paul nearly drops the bag of flour. His world tilts over on his side and then back again. For a moment, he can’t remember how to control his legs and he doesn’t know if he’s standing or not–the only things he knows for certain are that he’s holding a bag of flour and Percy just mistook him for Gabe. Paul’s heard stories–of course he has. Sally is a saint and made sure Paul knew everything before he officially married her; she wanted to make sure there were no skeletons hiding in the closet. He knows all about the asshole otherwise known as Gabe.

What he doesn’t know is why Percy would be mistaking him for Gabe right now? Paul likes to think that he’s nothing like the guy–well, sculpture now. Paul makes Sally laugh, he helps around the house, he sits down at the table and works with Percy with homework. Paul doesn’t drink, he doesn’t gamble, he sure as hell doesn’t raise his voice at Percy. So why–

Shit.

He does know.

A couple months ago, Annabeth was staying the weekend and after the first night, she managed to pull Paul and Sally aside. In a hushed tone, she recounted her night and how Percy had woken up in the middle of it with no clue where he was or who even Annabeth was. Paul’s fairly sure it’s one of the first times that Annabeth didn’t downplay something relating to demigod life as she explained how confused and Percy looked as he waved his sword around the room. She wasn’t for sure what caused it, but eventually his memories pieced themselves back together.

They had hoped it was a fluke. At the time, Percy was practically running on fumes after coming back home and maybe it was the stress overwhelming him. Now, for the most part, Percy is doing alright. He’s talking more, he has a therapist, he’s on the swim team at Alternative High School. Despite going on an occasional quest for a recommendation letter, Percy has seemed to be getting into an easier going routine. So, maybe it’s not stress?

It’s in these moments, Paul wonders how the hell Sally does it. She always seems so calm in the moments where Percy’s demigod life collides with his mortal one; always waiting to break down when she knows her son can’t see or hear her. She always seems to know what to say and she gives Percy the advice he needs to hear, even if it’s not exactly prepared for it. Paul wishes he had that ability, especially right now as he’s at a complete loss of what to do.

His mouth is dry and he’s certain minutes have passed despite it only being seconds. The flour bag has somehow managed to get to the counter safely and he looks at it, almost wishing he would have dropped it. Percy is standing a few feet away and he’s still staring, his eyes like the sea trapped in too small of a container. He’s waiting for an outburst, Paul realizes with an ache in his chest. The worst yelling Paul has ever done is in a class when a couple of students weren’t listening to him. He would never raise his voice at his stepson.

Paul straightens his back before managing to explain. “You’re thinking of someone else. Not me.” That will never be me.

“Oh.” Percy looks like a fish out of water. Ironically, this would be a moment where Paul would laugh and tell the boy and there would most likely be a blowfish joke involved. “You’re not… not…”

“No.” Paul shakes his head, “I’m not.”

There’s another bout of staring and this time, Paul makes sure to hold his ground. He needs Percy to trust him in this situation, otherwise things could go south extremely quickly. The pipes in the walls can’t handle another meltdown and he really doesn’t want Sally to come home to a flooded apartment.

“Good.” Percy finally nods, finally looking away in the search of something familiar. “I think. Where’s my mom?”

Paul brings down the sugar and other ingredients from the cabinet mechanically. He needs something to do. “She’s at a doctor’s appointment.”

“Is she okay!?” Percy’s protective streak runs deep, even if he doesn’t fully know who or why at the moment.

“Yeah, Percy, she’s okay.” Paul says vaguely. His phone is still on the couch, he wonders if she’s messaged him an update. The appointment should be over by now. He looks back to his other kid in front of him; this one comes first right now.

“And…” Percy winces, rubbing at his temple. Annabeth mentioned this too, like the memories were painful as they came back.

Paul doesn’t like that, “why don’t you grab a bowl for me?”

“A bowl?”

“We’re making pancakes.” Paul says lamely.

“Right!” Percy steps further in the kitchen. He appears to have deemed Paul safe to be around and his hand is no longer hovering around his pocket. He turns in a half circle, looking around. “I don’t know where the…”

Paul points to the cabinet, “Look to the sink, and then go down and to the left.”

It reminds Paul somewhat when they moved into this apartment and it was a guessing game to find where items were. Percy, as expected, completely ignores half the instructions and he begins every cabinet he comes in contact with. Paul can’t even be annoyed by it, Percy is still Percy no matter what’s going on with his memory.

“You find one?” Paul asks, opening the fridge to grab the milk and butter.

“Uh,” there’s another slam of a cabinet door. “Yes!” Percy comes back in sight holding a slightly too large mixing bowl, but hey, it gets the job done.

“Am I melting the butter and you’re measuring ingredients?” Paul asks.

Percy puts the bowl on the counter. “I can do the butter.”

Paul has learned from his past mistakes. Percy loves being in the kitchen while food is being made, however, if he doesn’t have a direct task, then he’ll forget to help. In fact, he’ll distract anyone in the kitchen with either a long winded story or, one time, he got Paul to go down a long spiral on google all starting with when the first egg was boiled. On those days, dinner is sometimes an hour later than planned. Percy always makes up for it by doing the dishes later though.

No matter what Percy is doing though, it’s natural for him to be in the kitchen alongside Paul. There’s a missing gap where Sally should be, but even then they manage. The last ingredient to be added is the butter and after some stirring, the batter comes together. The only thing missing is the blue food dye and Paul hands the tiny bottle to Percy.

“You can do this part.” Paul pats the teenager’s back.

Percy takes it as if the bottle is breakable and he’s prone to dropping things. “This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.” He says dramatically.

“I can think of a few things more important.” Paul scratches his jaw.

“I’m glad you can,” Percy comments, finally alluding to his missing memories.

Paul isn't sure how to react, so he doesn’t. He just stands there and watches as Percy places the drops in the batter slowly, his hand shaking with the effort not to squeeze the entire bottle into the mixture. Once there’s three drops in, he pulls his hand away and goes to put the lid back on.

“You can put more in.” Paul says gently.

Percy shakes his head, “Mom only does about three?”

“And how many do you want to put in?”

Percy’s mouth tilts upwards in a familiar mischievous smile. “Too many.”

“How many is too many?” Paul can’t help but smile back. There you are.

“Five?”

“Five is fine.”

“Six?”

“I think deep blue is a nice shade.”

Percy’s face twitches. “Why does seven feel unlucky?”

Oh, you know. Seven half-bloods answered a call and you were a part of that number. Paul shrugs instead. “Probably because we should do eight.”

Whatever memory is dredging up gives way to a look of surprise. “Eight!?”

“I think nine might be pushing it.” Paul pushes the bowl towards Percy. “You’ve got five more drops to add.”

“You’re a frickin’ madman.” Percy laughs and begins the shaking hand drop process all over again.

Yes, Paul loves to live his life on the edge; he’s a wild english teacher with the wacky ties to prove it. Still, he takes it as a compliment and he laughs easily alongside Percy.

The batter turns out a deep shade of blue that Paul actually thinks is pretty. He knows when it comes to washing dishes, he won’t be singing praises of the color though. He understands now why Sally has the drop limit, still, it’s worth it to see the smile on Percy’s face as the batter sizzles on the skillet and darkens even more.

Paul has Percy get two plates; one for the teenager now and the other for the rest of the pancakes to be loaded on for later. Unlike last time, Percy knows exactly where they are this time without even having to ask. Paul feels as if it’s a small victory. The biggest pancake goes on Percy’s plate and the rest are stacked carelessly on the second plate that will go in the fridge later.

“Go sit down at the table.” Paul grabs Percy’s plate.

“I’m seventeen, I can carry my own plate.” Percy pouts.

Paul pretends to think about it and then shakes his head, “I got it.”

Percy rolls his eyes, “you’re babying me.” He goes and sits down at the table though and Paul follows, placing the plate in front of him.

“Annabeth’s cupcake was this color.” Percy says softly, poking the pancake on the plate.

Paul absolutely has no clue what cupcake Percy is talking about, but he nods anyway as if he does. He goes to the fridge and grabs more butter and syrup. “It’s surprisingly a nice shade.”

Percy is softly smiling at the pancake now. “That’s when she kissed me.”

“Is it now?” Paul knows only bits and pieces. He actually thought that Percy and Annabeth were already dating considering how much Percy had talked about her in his younger years.

“Yeah, it was our first kiss.” Percy nods, his smile forming into a slight grimace as he now glares at the pancake. “I think. Maybe not. It’s so muddled.” He rubs at his forehead.

Paul places the syrup and butter next to the plate. He doesn’t know what to do, but he feels like he should at least say something. Percy beats him to it though.

“It’s, like, I can remember some things but not others.” He rubs his temples with both hands. “And whenever I get close, it hurts. And I’m pretty sure this happened before.”

“It has.” Paul isn’t going to lie.

Percy looks up, “did it hurt then too?”

“I don’t know about the first time, but the second? Yeah, it did.” Paul nods.

Percy looks towards the hall. “So, New Rome was first and Annabeth was second.”

“You remember New Rome?” Paul asks.

“Kinda?” Percy sighs, “not much about how I got there. I think I remember leaving? There was a boat, but no water. It’s all…”

“Muddled.” Paul finishes with the word Percy used earlier.

Percy groans and suddenly slaps his forehead. “This fucking sucks!”

Normally, Paul would mention something about the language, but Percy is right. This does fucking suck.

“And it’s stupid because I can remember in vivid detail how Grover looks running around in a wedding dress but I don’t know why he was in the dress. I know that it was my blood that woke Gaea, but I can’t remember how I started bleeding. I remember Smelly Gabe but I can’t remember your name!” Percy ends in a shout.

Paul waits and counts to ten in his head, making sure Percy is done. “Hey,” he says weakly, “you’ll get there.”

“And what if I don’t!” Percy challenges. “What if I’m just useless forever!”

“Hey,” Paul says more firmly this time. “You are not useless.”

“I couldn’t even remember where the bowls were, ” Percy fires back.

“I forget where the glasses are half the time,” Paul swears Sally keeps moving them as a joke, but that’s not the point. “Am I useless?”

Percy blinks at him, a familiar expression of anger sliding over his face. “That’s not the same.”

“I can’t remember what I wore yesterday. Am I useless?”

“That has nothing to do with–”

“I don’t remember the names of half my students from a year ago. Am I useless?”

Percy grinds his jaw but doesn’t argue.

“Just because you don’t remember some things, doesn’t make you useless, Percy.” Paul can’t help but turn his lecturing voice on. He needs to get his point across. “You remember enough and that’s what matters. Even if you never fully remember, there’s always a chance to learn again. If other people around you remember, then it’s never truly forgotten.”

“Yeah, but…” Percy’s argument falls short.

“This has happened before, right?” Paul asks.

“Yeah.”

“And your memories came back, right?”

“I guess.”

Paul puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Then take a deep breath. You don’t have to have all your memories right now. Right now, all you should be worrying about is eating your pancake before your mother comes home and tries stealing it from you.”

Percy scoffs, but there’s a hint of a smile. “The baby is going to come out with a bigger sweet tooth than her.”

Paul smiles, “hey. You just remembered she’s pregnant.”

Percy looks up at Paul before looking back at his pancake, “I did, didn’t I?”

“You’re going to be okay, Percy.” Paul ruffles his stepson’s hair.

Percy leans into the touch, “yeah?”

“Yeah, kid.” Paul nods. “Take a deep breath.” Percy does without hesitation. “Eat your pancake, you’ll feel better with something in your stomach.”

Percy nods, pulling away and grabbing the syrup bottle. Paul doesn’t want to hover and so he backs away. He lets Percy have some minutes of peace to reflect on what Paul said as he begins to clean up the pancake making mess. His phone is still on the couch and it can stay there for now. Sally is most definitely on her way home and she’ll be happily surprised with pancakes for lunch. Paul places the extras in the fridge before turning around to tackle the dishes.

He tries to practice what he’s going to say tonight to his wife whenever he knows Percy can’t hear. He can practically hear her now, grinning and saying she was right for wanting to stay at home. Paul will concede to her, he always does, and then the conversation will turn more serious. Maybe Paul should see if they can talk to Chiron again, see if the Rome Boy–Jason–is going through similar lapses. Or maybe Paul could talk to a therapist, see if this is common for PTSD.

He feels like he should be more worried than he is though, which is interesting. Whenever Annabeth had told them, Paul had a sinking feeling in his chest. Now? After watching Percy come back slowly to himself? Paul isn’t too concerned. If it happens again, the memories will come back. Each time he’s lost them, they’ve returned. There’s an odd comfort with the pattern forming. Does that mean Paul wants it to happen again? Hell no. If he had it his way, Percy would be carefree and happy, he’d never have to deal with this bullshit again. Does this mean that Percy will be okay though? Paul sure hopes so.

“Hey, Paul?” Percy’s voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

Paul turns around just in time to be wrapped into a tight hug. Automatically, he returns the hug despite the soapy water on his hands, his own arms wrapping around shoulders that are promising to be taller than him in just a few months.

Percy tucks his face into Paul and takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”

Paul smiles, pushing down a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. He’s not going to cry. “Any time, kid.”

“You’re not too bad at this.” Percy mumbles.

“At making pancakes?”

“No, at being a dad.”

Paul is at a loss of words and so he just holds his son tighter, hoping to give Percy some strength to keep pushing on.

Chapter Text

“And then Juniper,” Grover snorts at the memory. “She walks on up like she owns the place and asks if he knows Joshua!” He laughs even harder. “In Joshua Tree National Park! She asked a yucca if he knew–Percy?” Grover looks over to his friend and then tilts his head down. “Oh.”

There’s his best friend sprawled out on the grass, one hand resting on his stomach and the other arm tucked underneath his head as his face is tilted to the sun. His usually animated face is relaxed with his eyes closed as his breathing is slow and even. He’s asleep. For how long? Grover doesn’t know. He takes this moment to study his friend’s face.

They sure have come a long way from when they attended Yancy and sometimes, Grover forgets that the twelve year old Percy that illegally sold candy out of their dorm room is also the same eighteen year old Percy that has saved the world at least twice. It’s a rarity to see Percy so still and relaxed, and it’s in this moment that Grover can easily morph the two Percy’s into one; he just has to look past the dark bags under his eyes and the scars that litter the young man’s face.

Grover pulls his gaze away and looks out towards the rest of Camp Half-Blood. It’s odd to be visiting home nowadays instead of always staying at home. Well, Camp will always be his home, but he’s not so stuck inside its boundaries anymore being the Lord of the Wild and all. He’s supposed to be out in California right now trying to figure out the droughts. Juniper had visited a few days ago and he figured, why not go back to Camp with her just for the weekend. He needed a recharge. Percy was more than happy to visit with him, making it almost feel like old times. There’s no prophecies, no quests, no need to run around and find a stupid cup for a god. They’re just hanging out like they used to before the weight of the world fell around their shoulders.

The leaves on the trees rustle in a light breeze and it sends an unnecessary cold shiver up Grover’s spine–speaking of old times, there even seems to be an odd omen riding along on the wind. Nope! Nope. Nuh uh. Grover is not going to focus on that. He doesn’t want to think about it. He refuses to. He’s going to ignore the droughts going on, Apollo being mortal now, and apparently the fact that the very trees they’re sitting down by were luring demigods in with strange prophetic voices. All that worry and anxiety isn’t good for him and he doesn’t want to accidentally feed it through the empathy link he has with Percy. The demigod already has enough going on with all the trauma from Gaea and also trying to finish up two years of school in one just so he can graduate on track with Annabeth.

Grover tries his hardest to direct his thoughts to anything else. From his vantage point in between a few trees and bushes, he can’t see much of Camp Half-Blood. It’s fairly secluded and that’s why he and Percy like it so much; when they needed to escape even for five minutes when they were younger, this is where they would go. A moment to themselves before heading back into whatever they were avoiding. Grover’s thankful for those brief interludes, he misses the moments of escapism as he travels all over nowadays. He sighs, taking in the fresh air, enjoying the crisp taste of autumn beginning to settle across the country.

Grover takes a few more deep breaths, enjoying the calming rising and fall before he gets a feeling that someone is watching him. Slowly, he opens his eyes and he glances around the trees first before bringing his gaze down to see Percy’s eyes are open and he’s watching Grover with a slightly dazed expression. They blink at each other a few times as Percy becomes more aware of the world around them.

“Hey,” Grover says gently. He doesn’t want Percy to think he’s mad that his friend fell asleep. Now, Grover has a chance of telling his story again! It’s a win-win situation.

Percy blinks a few more times at Grover before giving a sheepish smile, “hey.”

“Nice nap?”

Percy groans and covers his eyes with his other hand to block the glow from the sun. “I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.”

“To be fair, I didn’t either.” Grover chuckles. “I just kept talking.”

“I don’t even remember what you were talking about.” Percy mumbles.

“Perfect! I can start back at the beginning!”

Percy yawns, “okay.”

“In the beginning, there was nothing. For short, we’ll call it Chaos–”

“Did you just go back to the Beginning, like, with a capital B?” Percy lifts his arm and glares at Grover.

“I told you I would!”

Percy rolls his eyes but the corner of his mouth is twitching. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me for it.”

“Do I?” Percy asks, pitching his voice comedically high. “I’m not sure about that.”

Grover fakes a gasp, “what is it that humans call it? Top ten animatic betrayals?”

Percy breaks out in a laugh, having to sit up so he doesn’t choke on air. “Animatic betrayals!?”

“I don’t know!” Grover whines.

“Anime, dude. Anime.” Percy wipes at his eyes.

Grover nods, “cartoons, right?”

Percy waves a hand back and forth, “depends on who you ask.”

“Well, now I have to ask everyone.” Grover decides. “I bet Nico would know, I’ll ask him.”

Percy doesn’t respond right away and when he finally does, it’s extremely soft. “Grover.”

“Hmm?”

Percy quickly shakes his head, “I, uh, just–y’know. Like, only you! Ah, Grover. Only you.”

Grover tilts his head, “and people call me weird.”

“Hey!”

“Dinner is gonna be soon.” Grover comments while laughing, looking up to the sky and noting how low the sun is hanging.

“I’m starving.” Percy declares.

Grover rolls his eyes, “you’re always starving.”

“Am I?”

Grover stands up, offering his hand which Percy takes. With a heave, Grover pulls his friend up. “I don’t know what’s worse, fighting Kronos or watching you demolish an entire pizza by yourself.”

Percy’s eyes light up. “Are we having pizza!?”

“Did you sneak some in?” Grover begins leading his way out of their secluded spot just at the beginning of the treeline and back to the familiar fields and trails of Camp Half-Blood proper.

Percy laughs behind him and Grover joins in. Pizza actually sounds pretty great right now, especially the paper used to blot the grease? His stomach growls in agreement. Oh! With whatever can of soda Percy drinks with it? Grover suddenly has a wild idea that maybe they should leave and go into the city to get food. The part of him that is homesick disagrees though and so he finds the worn path to the pavilion and slows down so he and Percy are walking side by side. Once upon a time, only a few years ago, Grover never thought they’d be this old and still taking this trail. Sometimes, life’s surprises can be a good thing.

As they pass through the cabins, Grover takes the time to appreciate just how well the building and rebuilding is going. However, there’s a slight tickle of confusion at the base of his own skull. It slightly takes him by surprise as instantly recognizes it as not his emotion, but Percy’s. That’s odd; usually Percy is better at controlling what emotions slip through their empathy link and small blips like this are a rarity. Not that Grover is complaining, because he’s not! He already has a basic feel of everyone’s emotions all the time, so it doesn’t bother him to pick up on something a bit stronger, especially when it’s his best friend’s emotions. It’s just caught him a little off guard, that’s all.

Percy’s looking around at all the cabins as if he can’t decide which one to look at first. Grover wonders what it must be like for him, seeing his promise to the gods actually planned out and acted out on. It must be an accomplished feeling and Grover hopes Percy has taken the time to step back and realize that this is all because of him–none of them really had that chance before he went missing and they were thrown into another war. Grover is about to ask what Percy is so confused about but a scream cuts through his train of thought.

“PEEEEEEEERCYYYYY!”

Both Grover and Percy turn around just in time as someone rams hard into Percy–so hard that Percy lets out a small grunt before wrapping his arms around the child.

“Julia said that she saw you earlier and I got so excited. I’ve been looking for you for hours.” Harley says in a rush before pausing to pant slightly. Grover worries that maybe the kid just sent himself into an asthma attack.

“Well, you found me.” Percy says casually despite the fact that he’s most likely getting squeezed too tight by the son of Hephaestus.

Harley lets go, but doesn’t move away. He’s practically standing right up against Percy, looking up to meet the teenager’s gaze with a large grin. The adoration is written so clearly on Harley’s face and Grover can’t help but smile in return; Percy has always had this effect with children. Although, the older Percy gets, the more it seems to happen that there’s a child asking for his help or trying to get his attention somehow and Percy is always more than happy to help. He never seems annoyed and he always has a small smile on his face. He’s good with them.

“How long are you gonna stay for? Last time it wasn’t long and I want you to come check out the thing that I’m trying to build because I need to test them!” Harley has caught his breath. “I gotta make sure these goggles are good and you’re the perfect person to be my control group because you can already see underwater.”

Percy definitely is confused again and this time, Grover can sympathize. He is a little confused by what Harley is trying to explain too.

Harley must notice, “did you forget!? I’m making underwater goggles!”

“Aren’t goggles already supposed to be underwater?” Percy teases gently.

“You said that last time!” Harley whines.

Percy laughs, but there’s a stronger tendril of confusion from him. “Well, remind me what you said last time too.”

“They’re goggles to help you see with 20/20 vision underwater, like how you see it!” Harley says proudly. “I wanna make sure we’re prepared in case we’re attacked from underwater. Cover all bases, y’know.”

Well, damn. That’s depressing. Grover’s smile falls off his face slowly as reality tries budding its vicious head again for a moment. Here’s an eight year old preparing for another as if all their battles and wars aren’t over. The sad thing is, Harley doesn’t realize the weight of what he’s doing and Grover has the urge to take the kid far away and allow him to grow in an environment that is peaceful. War isn’t a good look on anyone, especially children.

Percy seems to be sharing similar thoughts because his smile looks far more strained than it did seconds ago. “Oh, that’s thoughtful.” He nods. “You know what else it would be good for?”

“What!?” Harley bounces on his toes.

“Well,” Percy crouches so he can look at Harley easier. “I’ve heard that mermaids rely on basic mortal vision underwater and so they swim around a lot more freely than you think. If you had those goggles, I bet you could definitely see them.”

“No way!” Harley grabs at Percy’s shoulders. “Mermaids are real!?”

“I dunno.” Percy shrugs, “guess we gotta test those goggles so you can find out or not.”

The grin on Harley’s face is extremely wide and Grover is thankful for it, he looks more like an eight year old again instead of a soldier. “After dinner!?”

Percy laughs, standing up as he ruffles Harley’s hair. “I’ll stick around just for that.”

“You’re the best!” Harley gives Percy another spine crushing hug before letting go. “I gotta go tell Nyssa!”

“Go,” Percy pats the boy’s back. “I’ll see you later.”

With that, Harley is darting away as fast as his legs can carry him and Grover has no doubt, Nyssa will have her brother’s inhaler ready for him before he can say a word to her. It works out well–while Percy is helping with the invention, Grover can spend the evening with Juniper. He’s caught a few glimpses of her today and he’d like to see her for a bit longer than a few seconds at a time. Grover’s about to tell Percy his plan, but there’s another surge of confusion from the demigod as they watch Harley run off and this time, Grover can’t brush it away.

“You good, man?”

Percy glances over to Grover. “Huh?”

“You seem confused about something.” Grover says slowly.

Percy tilts his head, “oh, yeah, I mean, it’ll go away.”

There’s something odd in Percy’s eye contact. Grover doesn’t know exactly what to call it–whether it’s something blank or hollow, but what he does know is there’s not something fully clicking in Percy’s head.

Grover frowns, another chill crawling up his spine. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry, G-Man.” Percy puts a hand on Grover’s shoulder. “None of it really matters.”

“Well, now I’m going to worry more.” Grover’s own confusion is mixing beside Percy’s and he almost feels doubly confused.

Percy holds Grover’s gaze and it looks like he’s debating something before he takes a deep breath and nods in the direction that Harley disappeared to. “Why is he here?”

Grover looks, expecting to see someone else but there’s no one. “Why is who here?”

“That kid.”

That… kid? “Harley?”

“Yeah,” Percy nods, looking back at Grover. “Harley.”

Grover stares at Percy, “you… You know who Harley is, right?”

Percy blinks, hesitating, and it’s all Grover’s stomach needs to begin twisting uncomfortably as his stress levels begin rising. He’s connecting the dots and Zeus Almighty, how did Annabeth handle this in the middle of the night and by herself?

She had told him over an Iris message a few days after the incident. According to her, Percy was embarrassed and didn’t want anyone to know that he had an amnesia relapse which Grover still thinks is completely ridiculous but also completely on par for his best friend. Percy doesn’t want anyone worrying about him. Annabeth went ahead and told Sally and Grover separately, she mentioned that she wasn't sure if it was going to happen again, but she wanted everyone to be prepared if it did.

He doesn’t know if it’s happened since then, but even with the warning, Grover definitely is not prepared. Annabeth had mentioned it was a complete regression of his amnesia that night; Percy didn’t know her or even where he was at. She said that eventually he began to remember things though and it took him awhile, but everything began to piece back together.

This is what’s happening, right? Earlier, they were just joking and teasing each other like normal but now, looking back on it, it seemed like Percy had just remembered Grover’s name after. He had asked if they were having pizza when everyone at Camp knows that the only food served is a variety of healthy cuisine. The confusion at all the cabins. Now potentially not knowing Harley? Grover hears his heartbeat in his ears–he should have noticed sooner.

“You don’t know who Harley is.” Grover breathes out, hoping that he’s wrong.

Percy is looking slightly guilty now. Of course he is. He’s probably more worried that he’s made Grover worry about him. “No.”

Grover tries his hardest not to look too stressed. “Do you know where you’re at?”

“Camp?” Percy offers after another moment of hesitation. He glances to the cabins. “I think?”

“You don’t know why there’s extra cabins.”

“Not really?”

“But you know who I am?”

Percy gives a small smile as he looks back, “you’re Grover.”

“Okay. That’s…” Grover nods. “And who am I to you?”

“You’re my best friend.” Percy answers without missing a beat.

Grover gives a smile back, “okay, so you remember that. That’s good. I just… need to figure out what you don’t know and then maybe start jump starting your memories. Annabeth said that it makes your head hurt though, so, I guess I’m warning you of that?”

“Hey,” Percy puts both hands on Grover’s shoulders now. “Deep breath, buddy. It’s not going to matter soon anyway.”

Grover swears his heart stops. “What?”

“I’ll wake up soon.”

“Wake up?”

“Yeah, this is a dream.” Percy says so simply. So easily. So certain. “I’ll wake up, you’ll be back to normal. Camp will be back to normal. I’ll tell Annabeth about this and she’ll try dissecting it.”

“I’ll be back to normal?” Grover echoes because his damn brain cannot keep up.

“Yeah,” Percy nods. “You look… well, I don’t know. Different, but not? I keep thinking you look older with your horns and all but also it looks right? I dunno, something is off. And Harley? Annabeth will probably say that it’s my inner child trying to tell me something through a dream.” Percy rambles. “And Camp… well, things never look really right in dreams. This is just a really specific dream. Honestly, I’m happy it’s not doom and gloom like the others.”

Grover shakes his head, taking a step back and Percy’s hands fall off his shoulders. “This is not a dream.”

“Of course it is.”

Grover shakes his head again, trying to make sense of everything. “Percy, how old are you?”

Percy opens his mouth to answer and then frowns. “I…”

“Do you remember what you were doing before you fell asleep?”

Percy squints, “I was… we were…” Panic flashes in his eyes. “Dreams are like that. I don’t know everything in dreams.”

“It’s not a dream.” Grover repeats. “Percy, you’re awake.”

It’s Percy’s turn to shake his head. And then he does it again. “No. I have to be dreaming. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

Grover’s heart sinks. “Hey, Perce. Take a deep breath.”

“Am I dreaming?” Percy raises his voice slightly. He looks at Grover. “I don’t remember how I met you. How are we friends? Why is that kid saying I can see underwater?”

Percy runs a hand through his hair, his chest beginning to heave. Grover doesn’t need to feel the panic through the empathy link to know what’s happening before him. He looks around to make sure no one is eavesdropping before he focuses on his friend.

“I, uh,” the urge to bleat rises in Grover’s throat and he has to literally swallow it down. Grover has to be calm right now. He doesn’t have a choice. He takes a deep breath of his own. “Take a deep breath first, Percy.”

Percy’s jaw tightens and for a moment, Grover is worried that he is going to be a stubborn asshole, but thankfully he takes a deep breath.

“Another one?”

Percy gives in and the tension in his shoulders drops just enough and Percy’s anxiety in Grover’s own head calms down a few notches. “Why don’t we just–”

“What’s going on, Grover?” Percy asks in a quieter tone, the panic evident even in the near whisper.

Grover scratches at the base of his left horn. “Let’s go somewhere a little more… private?”

“Back to the–” Percy looks back to where they just came.

“How about Cabin Three?” Grover takes a step in the direction.

“That…” Percy looks around the cabins.

Grover points, “that one.”

On the walk over, Grover is trying desperately to not beat himself up over this. He keeps thinking that he should have noticed sooner. If he had, maybe Percy wouldn’t be this panicked or so certain that all of this is a dream. The demigod is currently looking around more now, no longer hiding his confusion about his surroundings. The very person that made all of this possible has no idea he’s the reason for the expansion of the camp. Grover almost wants to stop and reroute to the Big House. They need to tell Chiron. Maybe there’s some kind of fix to all of this that they’re just not aware of because they haven’t said anything.

The fix might involve Hera though and that thought alone leaves a bad taste in Grover’s mouth. This is all because of her anyway, he may not want to, but he definitely finds himself holding at least a small grudge towards the goddess. She took his best friend and did this to him. He doesn’t want her anywhere near Percy.

They reach Cabin Three and Percy takes in a breath as he looks up at it. “Right. Poseidon.”

“And he is?” Grover prompts.

Percy walks up and opens the door. “Daddy dearest.”

Grover lets Percy walk in first and then he follows. It’s slightly dusty but in true Percy fashion, his bed isn’t made and it looks like he just rolled out of it this morning. Tyson’s side of the cabin is tidier which, on a good day, irks Percy. Today, however, Grover isn’t going to mention it. He can see Percy comparing the two sides with his eyebrows scrunched together.

“Now can you explain?” Percy asks once the door closes.

Grover takes a breath. He wants to do everything but explain. “A goddess sto–”

“Which one?”

Grover gets knocked with a heavy sense of deja-vu from when he had to keep reminding Percy how powerful deities’ names are for an entire year when they were younger. “Hera.”

“Zeus’ wife.”

“That’s her.” Grover nods, wishing he had something to wash the taste out of his mouth. “She, uh, sort of kidnapped you and took your memories.” He rushes on. “You got them back and she thinks that she has a fair reasoning! And then you helped save all the gods from something that threatened them again. I guess she had a whole plan, but it’s sorta backfiring because your memories are a little…”

“Fucked?”

Grover sighs. “Yeah.” So are Jason’s still–they’ve given up on him ever fully gaining them back but Grover doesn't want to say this; he doesn’t want to cause another potential panic attack.

Percy takes a shaky breath, looking around the room. He then makes a face, looking down towards the floor. “There… there was a face in the dirt.”

“There was.” Grover confirms. “You helped defeat her.”

Percy’s hand touches his pocket where Riptide resides. “And… a guy with a scar on his face?”

Grover wants to puke. “L-Luke. You defeated him too.”

“I need to–” Percy lurches forward towards his bed, leaning into it before turning around and sitting. He shoves his face into his hands.

Grover takes a step forward, hovering his hand out. “You okay?”

Percy takes a moment to respond. “Head just hurts.”

“Annabeth said that happened.”

“I remember her.” Percy says into his hands. “She nags me a lot.”

Grover snorts, “she does.”

“We…” Percy stops with a wince, his shoulders tensing before relaxing somewhat. “Gods, everything I’m remembering is terrible. It was easier when I thought this was a dream.”

“Not everything is terr–”

“Falling into Tartarus doesn’t seem like a fun trip.” Percy bites, looking up with a glare before immediately regretting it. “Shit, Grover. I didn’t mean–I’m sorry.”

“It happens.” Grover worries his lip, “what I was going to say is, not everything is terrible.”

Percy gives him an unconvinced look.

Grover has to think fast on his hooves. The problem is that he thinks a little too fast and begins talking before he filters it. “Do you remember what happened when the Cyclops took me?”

“What?” Percy asks, bewildered. “Grover, you’re helping prove my point!”

Grover rubs his hands together, now he has to follow through with whatever half baked plan he has. “I mean, yeah. It sucked. But do you remember what I was wearing?”

“You were kidnapped!”

“Yes, but!” Grover gives a so-so gesture with his hand. “It’s a little funny, come on, Percy. Try?”

Percy purses his lips and huffs. “You were wearing…” He squints at Grover. His focus drifts for a moment as he tries to remember. “A dress. A wedding dress.”

Grover laughs, “I looked silly.”

There’s a smile trying to form on Percy’s face, “it wasn’t really your style.”

“Also! You know what else wasn’t terrible?” Grover asks. “All the dam snacks we got that one time.”

“At Hoover Dam!” Percy lights up, remembering. “Zoe was so confused.” He winces slightly before getting another soft smile. “I met Rachel that day.”

“See?”

Percy sits up straighter. “I see what you’re doing.”

“What about meeting…” Grover gestures to the neater side of the room.

“Tyson.” Percy fills in. “Meeting Tyson wasn’t a terrible thing either. I promised I’d bring him more peanut butter the next time I visit.” Percy remembers without prompting.

Grover sits down on the bed beside Percy. “A lot of things we’ve had to go through are terrible. I’m not denying that.”

Percy stares at the floor, “we’ve had to fight for our lives countless times.”

“It’s been, to use your word, terrible.” Grover agrees.

“Tragic.”

Grover glances over at his friend. “But, without that bad… we wouldn’t know what is good. Or we wouldn’t appreciate the good enough, y’now?”

Percy scoffs.

Grover begins counting on his fingers. “We wouldn’t have met. We wouldn’t have saved Thalia. We wouldn’t have saved the gods. We wouldn’t have saved so many lives. We wouldn’t have made friends with Camp Jupiter.”

“The… Romans?”

“The Romans.” Grover nods, dropping his hands.

Percy groans, rubbing at his face. “I wish it would all come back at once instead of being…”

“Fucked?” Grover supplies.

“That’s a naughty word.” Percy points at him. “Juniper hates it when you pick up me and Annabeth’s cussing.”

Grover gives a dramatic shrug, “oops?”

And finally, Percy laughs. It’s a good natured laugh that fills the room, fighting off the dark atmosphere that kept threatening to spiral lower and lower. It’s infectious and Grover finds himself laughing too and ironically, he remembers how back in Yancy, they would do something similar. If one of them had a bad day, the other would join them on the bed and talk until they were both laughing. They might have come a far way, but it seems like they’ll always circle back to their days in Yancy somehow.

Eventually the laughing dies down and Percy lets out a loud sigh. “Three’s the charm, right?”

“For?”

“I forgot around Annabeth, that’s one. Then Paul, that’s two. And now you.” Percy counts on his fingers. “That should be it, right?”

Grover didn’t know about an incident with Paul. He’ll have to update Annabeth. “I really hope so, Percy.”

“So do I.” Percy knocks their shoulders together. They sit there for a moment, resting against each other before Percy stands up.

Grover looks up at him, “headed somewhere? I thought maybe we could just stay here for the rest of the evening? Or until you want to head back to your apartment?” Grover wanted to stay in the nostalgia bubble a bit longer after the forgetting debacle.

“Yeah, down to the beach.” Percy points to the door. “Harley’s going to be waiting.”

“Percy,” Grover sits up straighter.

“I promised.” Percy shrugs. “And plus, you can get some time with Juniper. I’ve kinda stolen you for the day… I’m pretty sure. Yeah, no, I’m remembering that right.”

Grover stands now and he hates that Percy has just a slight amount of height on him. “You just remembered all your most traumatic memories almost at once. You’re allowed to take a break.”

Percy avoids eye contact. “And I will. After this.”

“What if… you’re not giving yourself enough breaks.” Grover says, crossing his arms. “Every time you forget, you’re asleep, right? You wake up?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve gone so long without relaxing or even a proper amount of sleep that when you get remotely close to it, your brain tries repairing itself but you’re not giving it enough time. You’re waking up in the middle of the process or trying to do too many things at once so it can’t fix whatever is screwed up.” Grover says in almost one breath. He feels like a hacker and he’s cracking the code. “You need to rest to recover, Percy.”

Percy looks at Grover and then at the door. He looks like he wants to bolt away.

“You’re allowed to stop and take time for yourself. You do know that, right?”

Percy’s cheeks redden. “I–” His voice cracks and he presses his lips tightly together as his eyes try to fill with tears. “It’s hard.”

“I know.”

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Percy admits. “After Manhattan, I barely had a month. I thought I could relax and it turns out, I had to save the world again.” He holds up his arms and then lets them flop to his sides as he sags. “I don’t want to be caught unaware again.”

“So you’d rather keep reliving your memories every time you fall asleep feeling relaxed and safe?” Grover challenges.

“Damn, Grover.” Percy wipes at his face to catch a few tears that are about to fall. “You’re really calling me out, huh?”

Grover relaxes his stance, noticing his crossed arms and he uncrosses them. “I want to see you better, Percy. You need rest and that doesn’t mean just sleep. You need some downtime for yourself too.”

“And I will.” Percy clears his throat. “I promise. I’ll drive home tonight and force myself to stay at home all weekend and I’ll try not to stress even about homework. Mom will be thrilled.” He looks towards the door. “But I also promised Harley.”

Grover thinks about this before giving a small nod. “If I call Sally later and hear that you’re out doing something else–”

“I’ll be at home resting.” Percy stresses. “Maybe you’re right, maybe all this–” he motions to his head “--will go away with some relaxation and quality me time.”

“Deal.”

Grover holds his hand out for a shake but Percy bypasses it and pulls Grover in for a hug instead. It’s slightly bone crushing and Grover returns it back with the same force. He wants to say more. He wants to mention how worried he is. How it still doesn’t really look like Percy isn’t sleeping as much as he should. How maybe Percy should talk to someone. Instead, he just hugs Percy a bit tighter.

“You’re my best friend.

“You’re mine too.” Percy sniffles into the hug. “I will never forget that.”

Chapter Text

“Mom.”

“Mom!”

“Moooooom. ”

Sally is pulled away from her blissful nap and back to the world. She pushes her face deeper into her pillow, maybe he’ll stop and she can drift back to sleep. Five more minutes. Or ten. Or as many as it takes for her to feel rested.

“Mom.” There’s a poke on her cheek this time.

“Percy.” Sally doesn’t want to open her eyes.

“Mom, you gotta get up.”

There’s an intensity in his voice and the exhaustion from before washes away. She opens her eyes, her maternal extinct taking over and she sits up, ignoring the headache that instantly tries reminding her why she laid down in the first place.

Percy’s standing over her, looking confused and stressed. If this were a normal moment, Sally would even find the irony that for once, Percy is the awake one and she’s the one begging for more sleep despite her brain waking up quickly. She sits up, grabbing her son and begins looking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” She asks, examining his arms. There’s no blood? No tears in the fabric of his shirt. Sleepily, she reflects over how sad it is that this is her first reaction.

“I’m fine, Mom.” Percy doesn’t pull away from the touch though and Sally still looks him over. “It’s… there’s something else.”

“Gods?” Sally would rather the apartment be burning down than the gods getting involved with Percy. If her son hadn’t told Apollo to leave months ago, she would have gladly told the immortal turned mortal where he could stick it.

Percy’s worried expression deepens and he looks far too stressed for someone his age. Sally feels her own stress match her son, but she hides it the best she can. This isn’t about her, it’s about Percy and she refuses to add more to his plate. She’s his mother, she’s meant to help him out in any way possible, not add more. It no longer matters that she laid down because of a headache, trusting Percy to watch over Estelle as the baby napped. Now, her main focuses are: Is Percy okay? Is Estelle okay? How is this going to affect them this time?

“What is it, baby?” Sally asks softly, no longer searching for any type of injury.

“That’s the thing,” He practically whispers, as if he’s worried about being overheard. “There’s a baby.”

Sally blinks, “what?”

Percy points to the door. “In the living room.”

“Percy,” Sally is not in the mood for jokes. “This isn’t–”

Percy shakes his head. “No, mom. I’m serious. There’s a baby and it’s asleep on this, like weird, colorful mat thing and I don’t know how it got here.”

Sally holds her breath. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

“Isn’t this how Athena gives birth or something? How am I going to tell Annabeth that I just had a baby with her mom!?” Percy’s panicking now.

If there were a way to stop time, Sally is certain she would have found it by now. She just needs five minutes.

“Okay, is there one baby or two babies?” She asks cautiously, listening for any crying from the living room.

Percy’s hands are pulling at his hair, making the locks stand up in every direction. She reaches forward, pulling his hands into her own. He fights her–he always does. Even when he was young. His larger than life emotions are from her and if the gods say otherwise, well, let them believe what they want to believe. Her son is still half of her and she knows the reflection of her own emotions when they swim through his eyes.

“Deep breath.”

“I can’t be a dad–I can’t–”

Sally hums softly, letting go of his hands and bringing Percy’s forehead to hers and she rests them against each other gently. “Breathe.”

And finally, there’s a trembling breath.

“Again.”

And another.

“Percy,” Sally starts.

“Momma.” And doesn’t that just melt her heart while stabbing it at the same time.

She opens her eyes, pulling away slightly so she can focus on him. He looks back, eyes still wide and terrified. “How many babies?”

“One.”

“Is it Estelle?”

Sally has never been prepared for any of this. She was never prepared when she became an orphan. She was never prepared for meeting someone on the beach. She was never prepared to be pregnant. She was even less prepared when she learned she slept with a god. She was never prepared to love her son as fiercely as she does, despite all the struggles it has been keeping him alive.

She is, ironically, prepared for this.

“Who is Estelle?”

Sally takes a breath. This is the one thing that she never wanted to be prepared for. She’s been waiting for it to happen though; there was no doubt in her mind that it would. First, it happened with Annabeth, then with Paul, and then Grover. She’s the caretaker of Percy and so they all came to her to report that something was wrong. Although, Annabeth was the one who told her about Grover’s situation. When Percy had come home that weekend, he had just hugged Sally a bit tighter than normal and that was the unspoken language between them. Something happened and I don’t want to talk about it, but I’m okay.. Of course, Sally talked to Annabeth about it instead, just to make sure there wasn’t another prophecy looming on the horizon.

Not another prophecy. Thank god. Not the gods. The only thing she’ll ever thank the gods for is Percy himself. After that, she waited. She’s always waiting, isn’t she? Waiting for Percy to be born. Waiting for him to get expelled. Waiting for him to come of age. Waiting for him to come home safe from the summers. Waiting for him to return home from wherever the hell he disappeared to. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

“Mom…” Percy touches her face, his sword callused hands scratching the soft skin. He traces her wrinkles and then takes his way to her hair. “When did you cut your hair?”

Amnesia.

Percy has come back from so many things. Half the time, he bounces back like a ball. When he was younger, if he ever got sick–a rarity with demigods–the virus would usually last half the day before he was back to darting around the house with far too much energy in his small body. He’s fought gods, Titans, and so many other things that Sally isn’t privy to and, yet, he bounces back.

He’s not bouncing back from amnesia despite trying to convince everyone that he is. How could he? It wasn’t caused normally. His memory loss was inflicted by a god herself–the goddess who drove Heracles to insanity. Protectiveness surges through Sally’s veins–no doubt the same protectiveness that runs through Percy’s. If she ever sees that woman, she will be having some words. Sally doesn’t need a sword to cut through people or gods. She has her clever talent of words and she will use them against the goddess, she doesn’t care what the result will be.

All because Hera wanted Percy to be a bridge between the Greek and the Roman camps. Why couldn’t Hera just simply ask him? Sally asked that to Chiron and the response was simple; there was a prophecy. That happened to be Chiron’s answer for a lot of things.

Sally had called him after listening to her son scream himself awake night after night. When she tried to ask Percy about it, he would shrug it off and give her a terribly watered down version of the events of months since his disappearance. He woke up with wolves. He found Camp Jupiter. He had to go to Alaska. He was on a flying boat. He would always pause at the next bit before stuttering over how they were in Tartarus before they defeated Gaia. Sally was sick of not getting answers and so she called the only one who she knew would at least be the more honest.

She doesn’t like talking to Chiron; she never has and never will. He speaks in circles, avoiding the obvious answers. She’s experienced with men like this; let them talk and feel important. Smile and nod, never forgetting your manners. She can attract more information with honey than vinegar. However, this phone call was probably the most frustrating yet and when it even seemed the centaur wouldn’t give her answers no matter how kind she was, Sally came unglued. She threatened him. A mortal threatening an immortal–she should get a medal. She can’t even remember all what was said, but she’s fairly certain she promised to make everyone on Mount Olympus’ lives a living hell by convincing the whole world that Percy was actually the Messiah returned instead of a son of Poseidon.

Chiron told her everything after that, it came out like water gushing from a broken dam. He retold her the adventures that she heard from Percy, but more in depth now; the protective filter gone. She can say whatever she wants to about Chiron, but it’s clear that he cares about her son and wants the best for him too. The centaur even admits that he had no clue how to help these children turned soldiers; heroes rarely lived long enough to need help. It was a horrific phone call, far worse than the one she received letting her know that her son was missing. Paul sat beside her the whole time, holding her hand and letting her squeeze his.

Tartarus.

A place where the worst monsters are sent.

And of course, her loyal son went willingly into it all for Annabeth. Sally would be lying if there wasn’t a pang of annoyance she felt upon hearing that which she’ll forever feel guilty for. She knows she would sacrifice herself if she was in the same position too. From what Chiron gleaned from Nico–that small, pale boy that used to sit in Sally’s kitchen occasionally–Percy was trying to pull Annabeth up and then they fell together. There’s not a definite answer of just how long they spent down there. Percy made it sound like less than a day, but the way that Chiron speaks of it, it had to be at least three days or maybe more. Statistically, the teens should be dead. There’s some monsters that can’t even survive down there. Yet, her son and his girlfriend are alive despite being haunted with every step. They escaped, but at what cost? What did they leave down there in the process?

When it was revealed to Sally that she was to give birth to a demigod, she spiraled. She read the myths, the poems, anything that she could get her hands on. She was young and thought that if she could prepare enough, then she would be the best mother possible. With each tale finished, her heart grew heavier with the weight of the world she feared her baby would have to hold. Demigods, she learned, never seemed to have a happy ending and she would be damned if her child would follow that same path. She would protect her child at all costs, even if it meant hurting herself in the process.

And she did. It’s why she kept Gabe around for as long as she could. She could ignore his taunts, his comments, his hands in the dark. As long as Percy was safe from the monsters out to get him, then it was worth it. As long as there was a promise of a good life for him. All he had to do was make it to Camp Half-Blood and then all their problems would be solved. She had assumed it would be better. It wasn’t her first mistake as a mother and it won’t be her last. If she had a chance, she likes to think that she would do it all differently. She would raise her son with the knowledge of who he was and then she would never let him set foot in that camp that saw a prophecy more important than a child.

All because of a prophecy, Chiron said. He made it sound so clinical. As if the prophecy was already a myth before it even unfolded. There was no true fear because the heroes would be fine–they’ll be legends with fame and glory. The heroes aren’t fine though. Percy and Annabeth came back refusing to sleep–Sally’s not even sure how the other remaining five are fairing. She can only worry about those children that she’s never had a chance to meet.

It’s taken long months, but Sally can see some color returning to Annabeth. Sally has had the privilege of watching the girl grow up into a young woman. She’s seen the skinny frame, the lifeless hair, the dulled eyes that returned from the latest battle. Now, there’s a promise of a tan returning. There’s a smile starting to reach her Annabeth’s again. The terrible darkness that reflected underneath her eyes is starting to disappear. She’s doing better. Percy, however, is far from fine.

Sally knew from the moment he showed up at the apartment that her boy wasn’t fine. He looked haggard, ran ragged from all the expectations of him. She should have said something then, but she didn’t want to push it. Then, she noticed he wasn’t sleeping. He would refuse and she thought that maybe he feared the shadows that could be lurking in the dark, so she installed nightlights in every room of the house. It must have worked somewhat, because the screaming minimized but now she lays awake hoping that he’s actually sleeping instead of just staring into the night. The dark circles under his eyes haven’t gone away, but they also haven’t deepened; he’s remaining stagnate. He’s not getting worse, but he’s also not recovering.

Sally’s worried for him. She’s tried to express this multiple times, only to get shot down with the I’m fine phrase or, lately, a look that says it all. He’s pushing himself for other people, not taking a moment to understand himself. She can’t force him to realize just how bad he’s spiraling. He’s too stubborn for his own good. She’s thought about bringing it up to Poseidon multiple times, but it’s her own stubbornness that stops her. There’s a selfish part of her that wants to help her son instead of giving yet another moment away to the gods that nearly didn’t want him. She wants to keep some parts of him as human as possible.

“Mom?”

Sally gives him a smile. It’s tight lipped and she feels the way it pulls at her skin. “Let’s go check on this baby, yeah?” She stands.

Percy hovers beside her. He’s taller than her now. “You called her Estelle?”

She nods, taking his hand in hers and walking him out of the bedroom. He follows her. It’s rare these days that he lets her lead; he tends to take command, using his body like a shield in order to protect his loved ones. This is Sally’s job. She’s the mother. She protects him. She looks behind her to watch him looking around the apartment, his free hand clenching at his pocket where she knows that pen resides.

“This isn’t…” He looks around in confusion as she leads him out of the small hallway and into the living area. “I thought we were home.”

“We are.” Sally says as gently as she can, letting go of his hand to go check on Estelle.

Her second baby is still asleep where Sally left her in the pack-n-play in the living room. Some days, it’s much easier to place her down here for naps instead of her crib in Sally and Paul’s bedroom. It’s easier to cook a meal or sit down and write a lesson plan when the baby is closer to monitor. Sure, they could get the electronic baby monitors, but Sally finds the idea of that pretty pointless considering the size of their apartment. She likes her baby in arms reach–a product left behind after Percy went missing.

Sally reaches into the pack-n-play, moving Estelle’s blanket down from where it’s started to creep up to cover her nose. Her headache is creeping back and she simply just does not have the time to handle it. Earlier, Percy had offered to watch his sister. He said that it looked like Sally needed a nap and, well, how could she argue with that? An hour and a half–that’s all Sally was going to take. She looks at the clock now and sees that she maybe got thirty minutes.

“I woke up on the couch and she was just here.” Percy points to the couch as if he needs to show proof.

Sally looks at him as she straightens up. Estelle is okay. Percy is not. “You were asleep?”

“I…” He’s looking at the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. I think I was having a dream and then I woke up and–” He looks towards Estelle. “So, Athena didn’t give me a baby?”

Sally shakes her head, “sit down, baby.”

Percy, surprisingly, does what he’s told. Sally joins him on the couch. When this happened to Paul, he told her that he just waited for it to run its course. She’s not that kind of person though. She’s waited her life for things to run their course, she’s tired of it. She’s had to learn how to take a bull by it’s horn–literally even take the horn sometimes.

“You’re not a dad.” She says and Percy lets out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s your sister, Estelle.”

The fear in his eyes is no longer palpable, but now there’s shock being electrocuted in the shades of green. “Sister? “You and Gabe–”

“No.” She says far more intense than she wants. “No. He’s… no longer around. Her dad is Paul.”

There’s absolutely no recognition in Percy’s features. “Paul?”

“Paul,” she nods, twisting her wedding band. “My husband.”

Percy looks down instantly to her finger. “When did that happen?”

“You’re having some memory problems.” There. She’s not going to dance around the problem anymore. She’ll shine a spotlight on it instead of using a nightlight.

He takes a moment to process that, looking in the direction of his sleeping sister. “But I remember you?”

Sally hums an affirmative. There’s a relief in her chest at being remembered; Paul and Annabeth weren’t so lucky for they went through this.

“And Annabeth,” Percy looks around immediately as if looking for her. “She’s–we–the–” he winces, grabbing at his head. Sally can relate. “Shit. Where is she?” He goes to stand.

She reaches forward and grabs his hands again, keeping him grounded physically and literally. “She’s visiting her dad this weekend.”

He shakes his head, “no. No, that’s not right. She doesn’t get along with him. He…” He pauses, looking skeptical of Sally.

“They worked things out. You helped with that.” Sally explains quickly. She assumed that the missing memories would at least be centered around the same time, it seems as though the lost ones are chosen at random. “We can call her later if you want, okay?”

Percy relaxes at that. “She’s okay?”

Sally nods, “she’s not in any danger. Both of you are safe.” They’re safe. Her kids are safe.

He sits there for a moment. There’s an odd blankness to his expression as he attempts to sort through things. “I don’t like her dad.”

“I don’t either.” Sally really doesn’t care for the man who made a child run away from him.

“I don’t think she likes my dad.”

“Do you remember your dad?”

He looks at her. “Poseidon.”

“Good,” Sally praises. “That would be hard to explain otherwise.”

Percy makes an odd snorting sound. “Your dad is the Greek god of the sea therefore you can control water.”

Sally chuckles, “well, that’s better than how it actually happened.”

Percy’s smile fades and there’s that odd emptiness where recollection should be, “I don’t remember how it happened?”

“Can you try for me?”

He pulls a face and then shakes his head.

“Why not?”

He looks down at their hands tangled together. A silence stretches between them and Sally lets it sit over them. It's calm before a storm, she can recognize the signs.

“I don’t think it’s a good memory.” Percy finally whispers.

Sally wants to cry, but she can’t. She needs to be strong for her boy. “And why do you say that?”

He shakes his head. “It’s just a feeling.”

She takes a deep breath. “It was raining.”

“No, wait–” He looks back up at her.

Sally gives him what she hopes is a supportive smile. “And I was driving with you and Grover.”

“I don’t want this.”

“And it–”

Percy rips his hands away from Sally’s and bends over, resting his elbows on his knees and shoving his face in his hands. “It hurts my head.”

It hurts her too. She doesn’t want to see him like this, but she’s refusing to let it go any further. She rubs his back. “I know it does.”

He’s quiet, pressing his face into his hands and breathing roughly as if he’s holding back his own tears. Even when he fully doesn’t understand what’s going on, he’s still trying to be strong. Did he learn that from her or from his time at Camp? Everyone looks up to him from the Greeks and now the Romans, he’s not even allowed to feel his own emotions.

She keeps rubbing his back, watching him. Over the past few months, she’s cataloged the new scars on his arms and she can only imagine that there’s more hiding under his clothes. For all the trouble it caused, she’s somewhat mournful for the Curse of Achilles. At least then she didn’t worry so much. Now, she has a panic every time he has a skinned elbow from a fall on his skateboard. A hero of the world twice over and yet she still wants to cover him in bubble wrap.

Percy winces, gasping slightly and driving the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Make it stop.”

“If you fight it, it’s just going to hurt more.” Sally murmurs. If she could, she would take it from him. In a heartbeat.

“There’s so much, Mom.” He whispers.

“Then we start small and–”

“And remember my worst memories!?” His head shoots up and he glares at her, his eyes slightly red. “Starting with the day you fucking died!?”

Sally glances towards Estelle who is magically still asleep despite her brother’s raising volume. “Language, Percy.” She takes a breath, looking back at her son. “You’re right, maybe it’s not the best place to start.”

Percy looks upset and he takes a breath, taking his own turn to look at Estelle. He’s hunched over himself, holding at his arms, his fingers subconsciously tracing the scars that Sally hates to see on her little boy. He looks so small and impossibly young despite the stress wrinkles already forming on his forehead and mouth.

“She loves you.”

“Huh?”

“You were worried she wasn’t going to like you.” Sally explains, watching him carefully. “And now you’re her favorite person.”

Percy stares at the baby. He makes a loud sniff, a telltale sign that his nose is going to start running. He might be able to fight back tears for now, but his body won’t let him for long. “What kind of brother doesn’t remember his sister?”

“No.” Sally shakes her head. “No, we’re not doing that, Percy.”

“Am I wrong?” Percy argues.

“You wanted good memories and that’s what I’m trying to give you.” Sally wishes he would look at her. “You’re not allowed to take them and twist them to hurt you more.”

He holds himself tighter. “Sorry,” he says automatically.

Sally sighs, “look at me?”

He continues to look at Estelle.

“Please?”

He shakes his head. She looks up to the ceiling, trying to build her strength and force the tears to go back down.

“I…” Percy starts and then stops. “It’s like soup.”

She looks back down, trying to catch his eye. “What is?”

He motions to his head, still refusing to look at her. “This. I keep getting flashes. Pieces. It’s like I’m watching some show or movie through a fog or mist. It’s clear and hazy and… it’s just soupy.”

“Soupy.” Sally repeats, trying to understand. She imagines a literal bowl of soup. “Give me an example so I can help.”

“Like,” he sits up straighter. “I remember a party. It must have been important, I don’t remember why. Everyone was there. Annabeth. Grover. You. Dad. Paul–hey, I think I remember Paul.” There’s a slight pause as Percy stares at the wall now. “It’s, like, everything is spinning and I can’t grab it. When I do, something else gets in the way.”

There’s only been one birthday party like that. Sally remembers baking the blue cake and wondering if that would be the last time they’d celebrate Percy’s birthday with him alive. He was fifteen. Was that really only two years ago? She never thought she’d miss those days, but here she is. Even her own memories feel, for a lack of better word, soupy. She can remember bits and pieces of things said, of gifts handed, but everything has faded in the lieu of the events that followed. She can’t imagine how confusing it must be to Percy.

“It’s a lot coming on at once, no wonder it’s hurting your head.” Sally sympathizes.

“I want to focus on something, but my brain isn’t letting me focus. And so I’m telling myself not to focus but that’s like telling yourself not to breathe.” He shakes his head, “you know how sometimes I lose something and while I’m telling you about it, I remember where it’s at?”

Far too often that happens. It happened more when he was younger and they were both struggling with understanding his ADHD. So many television remotes were lost to the abyss. Spoons practically were an urban legend once they went into his room. His backpacks were always left on buses. He’d be explaining it to her, asking for her help in finding it, and it’s as if he just needed to talk it out to remember. She wishes it were that easy now; that he would let her help him.

He winces, his eyebrows coming forward and his jaw clenching. He looks at his hands, tracing a jagged scar that tears on the palm of his left hand where his thumb ends and to where his wrist begins. It’s pink and raised still, in terms of the rest of his scars, it's relatively new. He flexes his hand and then clenches it tight, watching the scar disappear.

“The shore was full glass.” He says to himself, his voice distant as he remembers something.

Sally feels alarmed. “Where was that?”

He tenses, shaking his head. Sadly, she recognizes this reaction. She lets out a slow breath, surprised by the fact it’s not as shaky as she feels. She can’t keep walking on eggshells around her own son, obviously it’s not helping anything. She thought maybe he just needed time. He would adjust to being home and safe and, slowly, he would come back to her. There’s a divide between them though and she’s worried she’s the one who put it there by not talking to him sooner. This ends now.

“In Tartarus?”

Percy’s body is like a string pulled taunt. One moment, he’s slouched over himself and the next he’s sitting straight up and looking at her. There’s fear, shock, confusion all flitting through his expression. “I didn’t tell you about that. I would remember telling you about that… right? I didn’t tell you, right?” He’s almost begging.

Sally’s heart aches. It doesn’t have the capacity to break anymore, it’s torn too much in the past five years alone to truly crack again, but it can still hurt. It hurts for her boy who doesn’t deserve any of this pain.

“You didn’t tell me.” She watches his body sag. “Chiron told me some. And… I’ve guessed some others based on your screaming during the night.”

“He had no right.” Percy says angrily. Far angrier than she’s ever heard him sound before. “That’s none of his business. He–”

“I had to ask him, Percy. You weren’t going to tell me and I needed to know what was going on with you. How am I supposed to help you if you don’t talk to me?”

Percy’s jaw clenches and unclenches. “I’m handling it.”

“Are you?” Sally asks flatly. “Percy, I love you, but you’re not handling it.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Sally can feel her own tempter rising. “Obviously not if you’re still having problems with your memories.”

“It’s–”

“Perseus Jackson, I did not fucking raise you to be a liar.”

Percy startles, his mouth open to no doubt argue but he’s now stuck staring.

“You are not fine. You’re not remembering things, you’re not talking to people, you’re not sleeping.” Sally lists on her fingers. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He closes his mouth and then opens it again, trying to find the words. There’s tears now in his eyes. His nose and cheeks are turning red and he does nothing to stop the first tears from falling down. He just sits there, sniffling.

Sally lowers her hands, “hey. Hey, I’m not mad at you. Come here.”

She opens her arms and Percy doesn’t hesitate, he dives in at the open invitation. A sob pulls from his throat and he’s curving into her, practically laying down on the couch as his face is shoved into her stomach. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close, cradling him as she shushes and hums.

“I just want to know what’s going on with you.” She says softer now, her voice cracking as she fails to hide her own tears.

His chest heaves and another sob releases from him. She hums again, brushing her fingers through his hair. It’s getting long, she thinks offhandedly. She needs to cut it soon or make an appointment with a barber.

“I don’t know.” Percy finally admits, muffled against her between the wracking sobs. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”

Sally closes her eyes, feeling the tears drip down her own cheeks. They say childbirth is one of the hardest things a mother can do and Sally disagrees. The hardest thing for a mother is holding her child while they break down. When Estelle cries, it’s easy to figure out why; she’s hungry, she’s tired, or she needs to be changed. There’s nothing complicated about it. With Percy, he has those big emotions that feel larger than life and it should be easier because he can use the words to describe them, but if he doesn’t talk, then they’re both left in the dark.

“You have to talk to me, Percy.” Sally whispers, working through the knots in his hair.

Percy takes a shuddering breath, “it hasn’t stopped.”

“What hasn’t stopped?”

He’s quiet again and she’s nervous he’s shutting down again like so many times before. “When we… Annabeth and I… we were falling. We were falling and…” He makes a choked noise. “I’m trying to remember. I’m trying.”

“Deep breath.” Sally instructs.

Percy takes a breath and his chest shakes with the effort. “We fell. Into… into Tartarus. And we were going to hit the ground if I didn’t do something. I had to do something. I had to save her. There was a river and I didn’t even think. I reached for it and when we crashed into the water…” He trails off, shivering. “I thought we were going to die in it. It was terrible, like all these thoughts were coming from nowhere and they were so… heavy. I felt heavy. I felt… I’ve never felt so helpless.”

Sally knows her history. She read so much on Greek mythology and lore while pregnant that she’s fairly certain she could write a book over it. Of course, she knows what river it was. The River of Lamentation. “Cocytus.”

“Annabeth had to pull me out.” Percy cries. “And you think it would have stopped. It should have stopped.”

Sally pulls her son even closer as if she can erase the experience. She can squeeze it out of him, hold him until he’s warm again. The tears are falling down her face steadily now. They’re silent tears and her throat burns as she fights off her own urge to cry out.

“And with the amnesia repeating…” Percy trails off. “Am I broken?”

Sally was wrong, her heart breaks again. “No, baby. No.” She croaks.

“I can’t even sleep right, Momma.” His arms move and wrap around her waist, locking himself to her. He curls tightly against her, trying to fight in her lap and she holds him the best she can. “I can’t remember things. I’m sad and I shouldn’t be because I’m alive. I’m alive against so many odds. Why can’t I be happy? Why can’t I be okay?”

“Because you’re recovering, Percy.” Sally says, trusting herself to find the right words without thinking too hard about it. “You haven’t had a chance to really process anything in the past year until now. It takes time.”

“But Annabeth and Grover–”

“Are their own people.” Sally interrupts. “They haven’t gone through what you have gone through. Sure, they were beside you, but it wasn’t exactly the same, was it?”

“... No.”

“Then you can’t compare yourself to them.” She says simply, as if it’s as easy as that. She knows it’s not. She’s constantly comparing herself to other writers. Other wives. Other mothers.

“Everyone is getting better,” Percy chokes. “And I’m stuck.”

Sally wants to hold on to him and never let go. “They’ve asked for help, Percy.” He stills against her, even holding his breath. “They’ve allowed people to help them.”

He lets out his breath, sinking against her like a stone. “How can I get help if I keep forgetting? What if I forget who is helping me and I hurt them and–”

“Percy.” She takes a breath of her own. “Do you want to know what I think?”

He nods.

“I think you’re overthinking things.” She says honestly. “You’re stressing yourself out with all these things that could happen and you’re ignoring what is happening. You need to take a step back and take a break. You need to focus on yourself.”

“Grover said the same thing.”

Sally smiles slightly. “Grover knows what he’s talking about.” She pauses. “I think you need to take a break and actually confront what happened. We can find someone you can talk to about all this if we need. The longer you hold it in, the more it’s going to hurt you and your brain is going to try everything it can to protect you. That means cause your memories to falter and hurt when you try remembering what was panicking you in the first place.”

Percy pulls his face away from her shirt and she can feel the fabric trying to stick to his tear stained cheeks. He takes a breath of fresh air, looking up at her. “I don’t know how to take a break.”

She reaches down, wiping away a tear on his face with her thumb. He leans into her hand. “Then ask for help.”

“How?” He asks.

“Repeat after me, okay?”

He nods.

“Mom.”

He takes a breath. “Momma.”

The vision of him wavers from her own tears threatening to drop on his face. “May you please help me?”

He looks up at her, his green eyes wide. The same eyes that she would stare into when he was a baby. She would marvel at how everything was reflected and how he regarded the world as new. She was able to see who she was reflected back at her through the eyes of her baby and now, she sees it again. He looks impossibly human right now, the tales of demigods only just a myth at the moment.

“May you please help me?”

She leans forehead, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Of course I will.”