Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 15th, Manhattan, New York, 10 Months After Tartarus

Percy watches his mother settle Estelle into her wooden high chair across the kitchen table before taking her own seat between her one year old and Paul. She takes his hand in acknowledgement before smiling from the other side of the table at Percy.

His chest aches something horrible, because this picture is still wrong.

“I’m so proud of you, Percy,” Sally says in a strong, unwavering voice, staring him down with conviction. 

Percy tries to offer a smile back because hey, he’s proud of him, too. He can finally add a GED to his list of accomplishments. He really hopes to continue filling it with normal things like graduating and not saving the world for a third time, or surviving against all odds again. 

But the corners of his mouth are weighed down by anchors, and the pathetic attempt refuses to crinkle his eyes. 

“Thanks, Mom,” He says instead, giving up on the gesture and moving onto verbal acceptance. “Me too.” 

His mother and Paul, they watch him with sad eyes filled with remorse and sympathy. Not pity, thank the Gods; he’d probably figure out how to shadow travel like Nico to escape them. But the fact that they know- they see the metric ton of misery that’s locked his heart in a cage and buried it inside of his intestines, they see his searching eyes, his wanting hands- is bad enough. Percy looks down at the table and wishes someone would reach out under it and tangle her fingers with his, wishes he could turn his head and meet a harsh gray gaze gone soft because she’s so sweet on him, even now, especially now. 

He turns his head and stares uncomprehendingly at the empty chair beside him. He can’t help it. He can’t help it.

“Oh, Honey,” Sally whispers, and there’s a catch in her voice telling Percy to pay attention , because it means she’s gonna cry, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Paul’s already got her, and Percy- 

Reaches out a hand, and tangles his fingers in nothing. He touches nothing, because Annabeth is still gone.

June 13th, Manhattan, New York, 11 Months After

He dreams about her sometimes. Past the nightmares and awful memories, sometimes he imagines lying next to her on a big blue comforter on Long Island’s beach, a couple miles down from camp borders, he imagines. The sky is always a neutral pink-blue-gray, and there are never stars or a sun or a moon. Percy never can tell what time it is. The weather changes in them a lot, and it always depends on Annabeth. Mostly, like now, it’s slightly overcast, and a sourceless light reflects pleasantly off of the clouds, which drift aimlessly overhead. 

Annabeth is always wearing his hoodie, an old one from camp before the second war, the printed lettering so chipped that all it really says is C MP L OOD. The pegasus looks more like an actual bird than a horse. It’s a light gray and it pulls the graphite right out of her eyes, making them look even more dangerous, even more beautiful. She’s always got his pajama pants on, too- green plaid, the ones with pockets that she’d always steal from his room at Mom’s apartment. 

The way her hair is done changes, though. And the look in her eye. And she always has something new to say. 

It feels, in these dreams, like he’s really there. Like maybe he died back in the pit right next to her, and he managed to sneak into Elysium to be by her side. It’s peaceful. She listens to his anecdotes about his real life and he listens to her tell him things about people that don’t really exist anymore to anyone but him and some kids that he hasn’t spoken to in a very long time.

It’s a gentle reprieve from most of his other nights and the fog that clings to him during the day. He wakes up to those crying, but in a good way. Those days are a little clearer. He wears his gray camp hoodie and goes to work at his part-time construction gig in the city, and he seems to attract less hostile attention those days. 

He mentions this to Grover over Iris message when he calls to check on him.

“ I’m glad you’re feeling a little better today, Perce ,” He says softly, instead of something funny like Gee, maybe the monsters are just matching your freak . Percy should’ve called Nico.

“Yeah,” Percy replies, because what else is he supposed to say? Grover pulls the tab off the can in his hand and pops it in his mouth. Percy can’t really tell where he is based on the background- it’s got a lot of green, as usual. Probably a national park somewhere. “Where’d you get the soda?”

“ Um, right. I’m back at camp right now, with Juniper. They’re setting up for capture the flag right now, so- ”

“Ah.” His stomach plunges to his toes, and he goes hot and then immediately cold. Capture the flag. Grover looks up at his tone and frowns deeper. Percy knows he looks awful already, and he can’t imagine what his face just did. 

He can hear her voice.

Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?

You set me up. He’d been so mad, he remembers. He didn’t know then what he knew now, that Annabeth could and should always be trusted, because she’s always right. 

Was. Was always right. Percy feels himself pale. 

“ Percy ?”

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Grover, I’ll- call you back.” And he sweeps a hand through the mirage before him, dispelling the mist and destroying the image of Grover’s worried face. 

His Mom finds him later, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, still as The Poker Player .

“Percy?” She whispers. It’s dark outside the window. It hadn’t been when Percy got home and called Grover. Hours must have passed from when he assumed this position. Despite his window being open, there is a sort of warm breeze filtering in. Summer. Percy feels sick. His Mom sits next to him and puts a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little, before wrapping it all the way around him and pulling him into her. Despite being almost a foot taller than her- he’d hit another growth spurt, after the second war, bringing him to a whopping 6’2- he sinks into her willingly, crumpling like aluminum and folding himself small to fit in her embrace. 

“Mom.” It tears out of his throat in barely a whisper, more of a breath. It’s imploring, it’s ragged. “I can’t.” His chest tightens, his throat constricting.

“Can’t what, Baby?” She asks softly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. 

“I can’t . I can’t, I, I can’t-!” His chest is heaving now. He presses the crown of his head into his Mom’s chest as she holds him, rocking him back and forth. “She’s gone, she’s gone, and-!” He claws at his shirt, like he can pull the dark evil creature crouching on his chest off of him. Like he can be free of loss. 

“I know,” Sally whispers, one hand cradling his head, the other holding him tight as he sobs. “I know.” 

June 15th, Long Island, New York, 11 Months A.T.

Percy doesn’t go back to either camp, very much. He went to New Rome to finish his GED, and he knows there’s a college there. He knows that Camp Half Blood got some funding and they’re building more permanent residency and expanding and he knows he could be helping. He knows he could take the offered sword fighting instructor position and he knows he could… Help. Hypothetically. 

He also knows that if he gets to the Camp and they ask him to help he’ll just get in the way, useless in the way a limpet is, his strings cut. Riptide burns a hole in his pocket when he doesn’t have it in his hands but he doesn’t think he could swing it at another human(ish) being without feeling like he’s back in the thick of it. He’ll disappoint kids that think he’s some kind of hero. No matter what he does, he’s letting his friends down.

But it hurts. Seeing that orange, the hill with the pine tree on its crest, Golden Fleece glittering above a sleeping Drakon. Seeing the Big House and talking to Chiron when there’s someone who should be there with him, dragging him into her cabin, following him into his, chasing him around the wrap-around porch when he accidentally tears the corner of her sketchbook. 

It hurts. 

Nonetheless, he stands in front of the taxi that dropped him off, looking up at the towering hill. He ignores it as the cab peels off and begins climbing. 

Halfway there, there’s a deep gouge in the earth, a scar left over from the war. He keeps walking.

At the top of the hill, he looks over the valley of cabins, steeling himself. 

Be brave, Seaweed Brain. 

His Mom convinced him that he needs to get out of New York and away from it all for a while. He’s at Camp for two things: the demigod-safe communication device Leo’s been working on, and a possible destination from Chiron. Out of anyone, he would know the best place for a demigod to go off grid, Percy assumes. The safest place. 

He proceeds down the hill. He goes unnoticed for approximately two minutes. Then,

“Holy shit, is that-”

“No way, that’s-”

“Hey-”

“Percy!” Someone approaches him rapidly from the left through the gathering masses just behind him, and he reacts before he can think, redirecting their momentum and throwing them over his shoulder. 

Leo springs back up, dusting himself off. 

“Should’ve expected that, my bad,” He says, breezing past what could’ve been a very, very awkward apology. He loops his arm around Percy’s and begins to drag him in the direction he was already walking, towards the Big House. “What’re you doing here, man? It’s so good to see you!”

Percy, despite himself, grins a little. Leo and him didn’t get along well at first. At all. Between blowing up Camp Jupiter, and then the whole thing with Calypso- it was rough. He’s glad they’re cool now. He knows Leo looked up to Annabeth a lot. They have that in common.

“Gotta get away from home,” Percy says, tucking his free hand into his pocket to fiddle with Riptide. “Also, need a favor from you.”

“O-ho-ho, the great Percy Jackson is asking for help!” In contrast to his words, Leo’s face seems to pinch up a little in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Ha ha,” Percy deadpans, tugging his arm away. “I need a demigod-safe communication device.”

“Percy, you’re young enough to call it a phone.” Leo whips out what looks like a smartphone but way clunkier. “Check it out, brother! Been working on this for a couple months. I mean, I haven’t decided what to call it yet, but I have a couple prototypes lying around, if you’re interested.” He tosses it to Percy, who turns it over in his hand before pressing the home button. The phone lights up to a complicated interface, all in Ancient Greek. Percy whistles as he taps at it, swiping around before giving it back.

“I don’t know how to use that,” He admits, staring at the phone in Leo’s hand. “Do you have anything less… uh, smart-phony?”

Leo tsks . “Ugh. Maybe you are old. I’ll see what I can find while you’re catching up with Big C.” He salutes with two fingers and splits away from Percy, jogging off towards the Hephaestus cabin. 

“Big C,” Percy mutters, climbing the stairs and walking through the screen door. 

Chiron is in his chair in the living room of the big house, poking at the fire, miffed. When Percy intentionally steps on one of the creakier floorboards, he looks up sharply. Then he smiles.

“Percy, my boy!” Chiron wheels his chair closer, clapping a hand on Percy’s bicep before folding it in his lap. “I was under the impression we would not be seeing you for a while.” Chiron turns back around, intent on returning to his task.

“...Right. That’s kind of why I’m here,” He admits, following Chiron deeper into the living room and sitting down on one of the fat old couches. “I wanted to get away, for a while, still in the States, maybe close by. Any suggestions?”

Chiron hums, messing with the fire a little more before sighing contentedly, turning back to Percy.

“Well, there’s Pennsylvania-” He begins, and Percy’s face sours so fast that he laughs. “Or not.”

“Any cities?”

“Ah.” Chiron nods. “Gotham.”

Percy’s jaw drops. “ Gotham!? Gotham, New Jersey? You want to move me to New Jersey? ” 

Chiron offers him a smile. “I know that as a New Yorker, it sounds rather… unfortunate, but due to the-  how should I put this…” His eyes go unfocused before finding Percy’s again. “Due to, ah, unfortunate crime statistics and general mortal activity, it seems to have a much lower monster attack rate.” He frowns. “Although that could be because the regular mortals get to each other first.” He waves his hand in the air. “At any rate, I think that it’d be perfect for you.”

Percy sighs. “You think some fucked up crime city in New Jersey is the perfect place for me to lay low and stay out of trouble?”

“Divine trouble? Greek trouble?” Chiron nods, stroking his chin gravely. Percy’s pretty sure he’s only doing it for dramatic affect. “Oh yes, Percy. Mortal trouble? You are unfortunately on your own for that, I’m afraid. As long as you avoid the Batman, you should be fine.” 

Percy stares at him.

“The Batman is real?” He asks finally, afraid of the answer. Chiron just turns back to the fire again, though Percy definitely saw a twinkle in his eye. Stupid old horse.

Leo chooses then to burst in, nearly slamming into Percy (again) in his haste. 

“Hello, my liege,” He starts, ignoring Percy groaning and putting his head in his hands. “I have brought to you an old people sliding flip phone, made by yours truly. You’re welcome, please hold your applause.” Percy catches it as Leo sends it flying towards him. “Oh! I added a way to contact us, as in us-with-phones, and I’ll send you everyone else’s number when I give ‘em theirs.” Percy flips the phone up and scrolls through the contacts. Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter (Under C.HB and C.J), Leo, his Mom ’s number somehow, Piper, Reyna, Frank. It’s missing a lot of people- a couple very specific ones- but he’s happy with it. 

“Mr. Valdez, would you wait outside for a moment?” Chiron asks Leo suddenly, to which he bows and flourishes his hands and generally jingles like a fool exiting stage right. When he’s gone, Percy looks over at Chiron. 

“You look tired, Percy.” He adjusts the blanket on his lap. “I feel tired. I feel more old than I ever have. And I’ve lived for a long time.” He runs a hand over his face, and meets Percy’s eyes. “In the past decade, we've lost many. And they were heroes, yes,” Chiron looks at Percy calmy, his eyes catching the firelight. “But they were also children.” He looks down and away, exhaling. “I tell myself what I always have. That they’re all at peace. That they died for a cause.” 

Percy swallows, looking down at his hands. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to hear this. But who better understands Chiron’s grief and loss as a leader, a teacher, and a friend, than him? 

He says nothing. 

“I miss her everyday,” Chiron admits wearily, his voice haggard in the way it was on funeral pyre days. Percy’s lungs freeze up. “I know it’s been… hard, for you in particular. I’m sorry, Percy.”

Percy stands up.

“Bye, Mr. Brunner,” He chokes out, and then walks out, down the steps and over the hill and he walks and walks and walks until he remembers to whistle.

There’s a bark from the growing shadows lining the underbrush along the road, and Mrs. O’Leary comes bounding out, covering him with black fur and soon after, a lot of saliva. 

“Hey, girl,” He says roughly. “Let’s go to Gotham.”

Chapter Text

July 1st, Gotham City, New Jersey, 1 Year A.T.

It’d taken Percy a couple weeks to get fully settled in with a job. He’s in a rougher neighborhood, low income but patrolled by some gang guy that everyone seems to trust, so he figures it could be worse. With the certifications Percy had gotten while in New Rome (he’s not sure how they figured out the documentation), Percy’s able to get a job as a security guard for a really shady company that distributes its employees to literally whoever pays them. Which is awesome, because Percy doesn’t ever really do anything other than stand around and glare, occasionally through tacky black shades as per employer request, but also not so much. Some of these guys are creeps, Percy can tell. 

Unfortunately, he needs the job to pay the rent for his new apartment. 

It’s really nice, against all odds. His Mom helped him find furniture, so he has one big green couch in the center of his apartment, adorned with a million blankets. Dividing the space between the couch and the kitchen is a narrow dining table. It’s small, about the size of a chess table. The kitchen is aso pretty small, and one of his numerous first aid kits barely fits under the sink. His bedroom has enough room for a full bed, one nightstand, and a dresser squeezed into the closet. His comforter looks nearly identical to the one in his dreams with Annabeth. Across from the bed in the corner by the door, Percy keeps a tiny working salt water fountain made of celestial bronze and limestone by Tyson. It had two hippocampi and it was very pretty. Percy watches it to fall asleep, and sometimes he can close his eyes and listen to it and pretend he just won a war against Kronos and his girlfriend is lying next to him, just out of reach. 

When Percy gets home tonight from work, he sits on the couch and stares at the wall, stretching his legs out before him. There’s no TV or coffee table, just a half-empty bookshelf with a couple of pictures on it. He sees them out of the corner of his eye and they haunt him with their smiling faces and sunlight.

A year ago today, the worst day in Percy’s life happened. 

A year ago today, he and Annabeth plummeted into Tartarus. 

At some point, a year ago, Annabeth looked Percy in the eyes as Tartarus’ fist came through her stomach from through her back. 

He almost doesn’t make it to the toilet in time to vomit up his guts. 

The other nice thing about his new apartment is that it’s on the top floor- of which there are seven- and his window is only a foot from the fire escape, which has rooftop access. 

Tonight, he takes advantage of it, climbing up to the top of the building and then sitting on the edge, looking out at the rest of the city. Gotham is dreary at best, filthy at worst, and Percy kind of likes it, actually. And in the two weeks he’s been there, he hasn’t been attacked by a single monster. One mortal, but he got out of that real quick. He was able to take his knife, too- simple steel, about half as long as his forearm. A weapon much more suited for the world he’s in now, although Riptide always waits patiently in his pocket. Annabeth’s bone sword is downstairs in his closet, hidden behind his skateboard. 

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his favorite pen, tossing it from hand to hand and tapping his heels on the side of the brick, watching sediment rain down into the dark alley below. 

Gotham, even from this height, looks like a hopeless maze. It smells bad similar to the Labyrinth, Percy thinks, and it’s always a little damp like underground spaces usually are. He absentmindedly runs his fingers over the scars on his right arm, twirling Riptide in his free hand. Annabeth used to like tracing his scars. She used to try and guess (usually successfully) from where they’re from, since she was there for most of them. Sometimes she points out one she doesn’t recognize, and sometimes he doesn’t know. Sometimes she knows more about the stories on his body than he does. 

She knew . It was a year ago, sometime this week, that she knows became she knew . She’ll never ask about another scar again. She’ll never be there when he gets another ever again. 

“What the hell am I doing, Wise Girl?” He asks the pavement far below him. It offers nothing. The balmy summer air sits on his shoulders like a cloak and he sighs shakily, suddenly angry.

He stands, and clenching his hand around Riptide, winds his arm back. He chucks Riptide as far as he can, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. He looks around for something to destroy, and finds nothing. He climbs to the ledge of the roof and considers the roof opposite to him, some 15 feet away. He can make that. 

Boots land on the roof behind his building, the crunch of gravel bouncing off the sides of taller structures around them.

Percy reacts quickly, dropping to a crouch and then swiveling. He reaches for his pocket only to realize that Riptide isn't back yet. He sinks deeper into the corner of the roof where the shadow is darkest, hoping he's not seen. Retreating now without being caught will be difficult, so he's stuck. Although he can be sneaky, typically stealth isn't his MO. Percy tends to be the distraction.

Fortunately, on the other roof, something's got him covered.

To put it simply, it's a giant crocodile.

Well, not quite. Percy's fought a giant croc or two in his day, once with Carter Kane, so he knows several mythological reptiles in the family.

This guy is just. A guy. Who is also a crocodile. What?

And mortals can clearly see him, because Percy's not catching any vibes from the primary colored jumping bean harassing the scaly beast. 

The jumping bean has a sword . Gotham, what the hell are you even?

Somehow, the tiny tricolored fiend manages to find a huge, hulking shadow, reminding Percy a little of a Hellhound, inhuman in the way his mass seems to flit between streetlights and dark corners like a specter. A specter with a mean right hook, which he uses to lay Giant Crocodile Man down. It's an insane fight, and Percy is able to sneak away and into his apartment. Shutting the window, he thinks again of Annabeth, but this time with nothing but bewilderment and a growing sense of manic glee. 

“What the hell is going on,” He murmurs to her, smiling despite himself and combing fingers through his hair. “The Batman is real and he has a munchkin. What do you think, Wise Girl? Should I engage?” He sighs, dispelling the sense that he's crazy and instead lying flat against the comforter underneath him.

“The wars ended, and now you're gone,” He whispers to the ceiling. “So what am I supposed to do now?” 

Percy drifts off to nothing but the fountain's soft gurgling.

—-------------------

July 5th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T.

Annabeth's birthday is in a week.

It's a thought that's been keeping him going the past couple of days, since the first of July hit. He's been plagued nonstop by nightmares of that stupid pit, and they stick to his skin like spider silk when he wakes up, the phantom sensation of poison and scratches and heat and burning and-

He sucks in a deep breath and rubs his face, his steps not faltering against cement. Annabeth's birthday is in a week and he made sure to request it off, his employers were chill about it, so now he's just got to figure out what to do with it. Go to a park, probably, then the library. If she was here, Percy would take her to get ice cream, and then maybe to a festival that always seems to be happening nearby on her birthday. Stuff they missed out on when they were questing. She's always- she was always good at aiming games. Percy can throw pretty well, but darts are way beyond him, just like archery. 

But she isn't here so probably no carnival for him. He doesn't need to be in a medium stress, loud and crowded environment in a city he's not familiar with, alone. Or at all, really. The library's a good idea, though. And ice cream. Probably in that order.

 In the quiet solitude of the streets at 4AM, Percy allows himself an exasperated groan, stopping right where he's standing. He looks around and sees a coffee shop, with little leaves scattered sporadically across the front display that are reminiscent of the leaves on Grover's coffee cup way back in New Mexico, before that damn Boar practically sent Percy and Thalia over a cliff. Percy walks in as if in a trance, pen already in hand. 

The inside is quiet, unpopulated. There are two strangely dressed individuals by the back exit and the bathrooms, facing the front door and honestly at Percy's ideal table. Alas. He ignores them because they don't feel dangerous and stands in front of the register, glaring up at the board hopelessly.

“Can I offer you any recommendations?” The cashier asks, smiling kindly. Percy blinks at them.

“Uh. If you've got something with lots of caffeine, but really sweet?” Percy's got a long day ahead of him: his first ever Daytime Gig. He also, unfortunately, doesn't like coffee. Caffeine keeps him awake, but it interacts weirdly with his brain given his hyperactivity. 

The barista ends up giving him a frothy light brown sugar nightmare that Annabeth would grimace at. It's perfect, even if it is 7 dollars. Percy collapses into the chair furthest from the door  opposite of the strangely dressed girls.

They keep looking at him. He studies them from the corner of his eye.

One is blonde. She's got some sort of purple cloak enveloping with the hood pulled down, and a mask that presumably covers her entire face pulled up to her nose. 

The other one is wearing an all black, scarcely armored suit. The mask is also full faced, but like her companion, she's pulled it up. 

Percy doesn't care. He puts his head down on the table in front of him.

He doesn't mean to doze off, but he snaps to attention when someone enters his 2 foot bubble. It's the barista, informing him that they technically aren't allowed to let anyone sleep and it's almost time for their morning rush, which Percy assumes means it's close to 6 o'clock. He thanks them and gets to his feet, noticing the strangely dressed girls are long gone. His coffee's also cold. He sighs. 

“It's gonna be a long day,” He mutters to Annabeth under his breath as he walks out the door. It's dawn, and he'll soon have somewhere to be. He starts walking.

—-----------------

9AM events, Percy decides, tugging at the stupid suit that was handed to him as soon as he showed his badge- who puts security guards in a suit?- should be banned permanently. There's no need for security this early in the morning, especially for what looks like a couple amateur archeologists with a bunch of clearly smuggled artifacts. No one is going to steal anything or bomb them before Percy's off the clock, so he's pretty irritated about being here.

People come and go in really fancy clothing, passing Percy at the door. He pulls down his hat (it has big letters that say SECURITY) and watches boredly. In an hour, he'll at least be able to rotate and walk around inside. For now he's stuck playing doorman.

“They have the Drake boy with them today,” Someone says breezily to their partner as they walk past. “He might remember us, so it's best to get ahead while we can.” Percy frowned at their backs. Why are rich people so suspicious?

Right before he rotates, there's enough commotion near the doors for him to feel properly alert for the first time since the gig started. Crowds are swarming and a lot of cameras are flashing- and then Percy identifies why.

It must be some kind of celebrity family. There are two young men, a kid, and one young woman. They expertly dodge the flashes and slink past some of the oiler dickheads waiting for them.

They pass him, and Percy's eyes unintentionally meet one of the men's.

He looks about his age, with dark hair neatly slicked into place and striking ice blue-gray eyes that remind him so much of Annabeth that he sucks in a breath. You can practically smell the IQ he's packing, as he scrutinizes Percy even through his gossamer of I'm-rich-and-therefore-dumb. He's got a model's bone structure, with high cheekbones and a narrow face and a long straight nose that suits him perfectly. He's also got an aura- not strong like a demigod's, but maybe he's a mortal with a blessing, or a legacy. Percy's eyes unconsciously follow him all the way inside. 

An hour later, he's mostly forgotten the hot rich family and prowls around the displays, spinning his pen in his fingers absentmindedly as he stops in front of what is clearly a Greek artifact. He frowns at it.

it's the hilt of a knife, that much is obvious, and it's Celestial Bronze. Percy can tell it's not nearly as ancient as the sellers dated it to be, and he wonders if it's from one of the recent wars. 

“Big fan of Ancient Greece?” 

Percy spins around, ready to uncap Riptide, when he again meets blue-gray eyes. He relaxes, slipping his pen away and straightening.

“Something like that,” Percy agrees. “You?”

“Not particularly,” The guy admits, strangely shy. “I've never seen you around one of these before. Are you new?” He looks up through his eyelashes at Percy.

The look makes him feel some type of way but he pushes it to the sidelines because this guy is playing a game, now. He can see Annabeth all over it, fishing for information. Luckily Percy has nothing to hide from eyes that-he has a feeling -don't miss much. Percy tilts his head down and taps the brim of his hat, indicating his position.

“I don't know what kind of fancy history museum needs private security from the company I work for, but they call and I answer.” The man looks politely at his hat before locking his gaze back on Percy's. 

“And who do you work for?” The man asks, tilting his head. Percy leans down to be eye level with him- he's got over half a foot on the man- and offers him a smile that he knows drives Athena kids crazy because it says I know things and I'm not telling you any of them.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” Percy says quietly, still through a smile. The guy quirks a brow, but Percy can see his veiled frustration. Then he straightens and offers a salute. “Well, back to work. See you later, pal.”

And then he slips into the crowd, parting them easily with his shoulders and general vibes. He spends the rest of the workday like that, flitting in and out of the crowd and around the perimeter, watching for something that isn't gonna happen.

Shockingly, he's right, and the exhibit ends at 2PM, so Percy turns in his suit when it's over and goes back into the coffee shop, which is conveniently nearby. It's a different barista who gives him a different sugary nightmare but he likes it anyway (though again- 7 dollars) and he sits down at his morning table, watching people walk by outside.

The celebrity family walks in. 

Percy scowls down at his coffee. They don't seem to have brought any attention with them but Percy doesn't want the smoke with Icy Eye's agenda or with paparazzi. If a camera picks him up in the background, he could have more trouble on his hands. 

What would Annabeth do? Probably keep an eye on them. Watch for strengths, weaknesses, motives. Except these people aren't enemies; Percy killed most of his enemies. He's not sure how to treat regular mortals nowadays after… everything, so he watches them out of the corner of his eye until his drink is gone. He gets up and throws the cup out, but when he turns to leave, the taller celebrity is right there, about to run into him, and Percy dodges before he even knows what he's doing, sidestepping the collision neatly and not sparing a glance back before leaving through the front door.

“What the Hades,” He mutters, combing a hand through his hair. Rich people are so weird.

Behind him, 4 pairs of eyes watch him disappear around a corner.

—----------------

July 8th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T.

Percy should’ve known that he’d never really be able to completely disentangle himself from who he is, but what really tips him off today is the flock of children he’s pretending not to notice following him. It’s been two days now they’ve scuttled after him for a large portion of his way to and from the Alley.

He can tell they aren’t monsters, or their little tailing act would’ve ended two days and three blocks ago. As it is, he can’t really get a read on them. They’re young enough to be considered actual children even to another child soldier, the kind that Percy tried to push far enough behind the lines in the first war that they never had to really use what they’d been learning. He slips into the next dark alley, which isn’t hard to find despite the sun still beaming from it only being 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

They follow him too closely, and when they round the corner, they stop dead in front of him. The leader of their little three person brigade stares up at him with wide brown eyes. The other two, maintaining points of contact with each other and their leader, mirror his expression. One of them mutters ‘uh oh.’

“Yeah, hi,” Percy says, crossing his arms. The kids are tiny . Not just in a kid way, but also in a malnourishment way. “Uh oh is right. Why are you following me?” The leader swallows so hard that Percy almost feels bad. He towers over them and he knows that when he’s expressionless, his RBF is out of this world, bold dark brows naturally furrowed over glowering bright green eyes. He tries to soften a little, uncrossing his arms and jamming his hands into his pockets, raising an eyebrow. It seems to give the little leader the vote of confidence he needs to open his mouth.

“You- you’re like us,” The kid says, peering baby blues up through a shock of blond hair, although it’s phrased as a question. It still sends a chill down Percy’s spine, and he studies them.

After closer inspection, he can feel the vibe radiating off of them. It’s small for the most part, save the little girl on the right. Not enough to attract monsters unless they were in a worse place, but enough so that he can recognize their Godly signature, which puts a damper on his whole day. 

“‘Like us?’” He repeats anyways. Maybe these kids sense his presence but don’t have a grasp on what it means. It’d be ideal- he could walk away mostly guilt-free, if that were the case. He doesn’t have any responsibilities past himself in this city, and he selfishly wishes it would stay that way. 

“I know you,” The kid to the left of their leader says. She’s got keen hazel eyes and long brown hair, curled and unruly. 

“Oh?” 

“You’re- Percy Jackson ,” She whispers. A rock drops in his stomach.

“What?” He can’t play dumb. These are- they’re other demigods, they’re just kids, and they know him, somehow. “How do you-”

“My Dad told me about you,” She says in a hushed voice. “He said you’re the Hero of Olympus!”

The other kids let out awed noises and Percy wants to cry.

“Not here,” He says in his most serious camp counselor voice. They all look properly chastised and it’s just too cute. The fear is curdling inside of him, collapsing into resolve, and he ruffles the leader’s hair. “Alright, pipsqueaks, yeah, I’m Percy. Who are you? ”

Leader kid giggles. “I’m Alex. That’s Sandy and Margot.” He motions to the quiet kid over his shoulder, who has yet to meet Percy’s eyes. “We live in Park Row! We saw you earlier-” Whether he met earlier today or earlier this week is lost on Percy- “And Margot said you were like us and Sandy recognized you!”

“Where are your parents?” Percy asks, slipping back out of the alley and letting the kids follow him, leading them deeper into the place he now knows they all call home. 

“Sandy’s Dad is at work right now, and my Mom is at home but she’s busy.”

“Margot?” Percy asks over his shoulder, scanning his surroundings before honing in on a diner. 

“Um…” Alex trails off, and Percy glances back. He looks sad and shifty, but Margot’s face is blank. “We don’t, um, know, exactly.”

Percy sighs, opening the diner door and ushering them through. They follow him back to a booth in the corner, his usual tactical spot, and they all sit down around him. Margot is so small that she has to climb to get into the booth. It breaks his heart a little.

“Explain,” He suggests, pointing at Margot.

“She’s gone,” The littlest girl says. She’s got dark hair hanging around her face, more greasy than the others. He can’t tell if it's brown and really dirty or black and still really dirty. Her eyes are slim and sharp and dark, and she’s probably the most unreadable 7 year old that he’s ever encountered. She reminds him a little of Nico, and not in a warm and fuzzy way. The fact that her divine parent seems to be Dad and not Mom is just as worrying. 

Percy starts to ask what she means by gone, but a waitress comes by with 4 glasses and a pitcher of water, and she hands him four menus. 

“Will you need some time?” She asks politely, but her eyes dart around at his flock, and he feels a pang of nerves. It probably looks a little weird to an outsider, an almost-adult hanging out with a crowd of 12 and under. 

“Please,” He replies, offering a smile he just knows comes out more as a grimace. She nods and floats away, and he watches her go before returning his attention on Margot. She shrugs.

“Came home last week and she wasn’t there,” She says quietly, hands in her lap. Percy looks down at her, this little 7-year old, and all he can think about is Luke and Thalia finding Annabeth in a dirty alley with a hammer. 

All alone, no adult supervision, in one of the most dangerous mortal cities in America, with no visible weapons or way to defend herself. 

At least, he thinks, suddenly faint, the monster population is low. 

“Are you staying with Alex or Sandy?” He asks, looking across the table at the other two kids, who are pouring over the menu eagerly. She shakes her head, shrinking even smaller, somehow.

“Alex’s mom is sick.” She leans closer to Percy. “She’s gonna die soon.”

“Oh?” He feels ill. Margot is ticking a lot of terrible boxes. “And Sandy’s Dad?”

“He says I’m too dangerous,” She whispers, and finally emotion flashes across her face. It’s a cruel sort of misery, angry and understanding and way too complicated to be on a seven year-old’s face. “I live in Crime Alley. Red Hood checks on me.” 

“Red Hood?” Percy echoes as the waitress returns. 

“All ready?” She asks. Percy motions to the kids across the table, who scramble over themselves to order two plates of pancakes- “with whipped cream! Can we get whipped cream, Percy?” “Sure.”- and then orders some for Margot, too. He asks for a cup of coffee for himself and the waitress sweeps away. 

“He’s the protector of Crime Alley.” Alex pipes up after they’re alone again. “You actually look, um, like him! I thought you were him when we first saw you but then Sandy said you saved the world sometimes.”

“Oh, the gang lord guy?” Percy asks, nodding and leaning back, looking over the table. “It’s good that he watches for you, Margot, but it’s not safe.” Especially for you , he doesn’t say. 

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” She tells him quietly. He closes his eyes and puts his face in his hands. The kids eventually kick up their own conversation and he listens to it faintly, trying to think. Maybe he can contact Nico. Tell him he has another sister. Maybe he can contact camp, and have them send a satyr. He doesn’t know what to do. He wishes Annabeth was here. She would know. 

It takes about 20 minutes for the pancakes and coffee to arrive, and the chatting is tabled for more important things, like inhaling their pancakes. Margot’s plate is empty before he’s halfway done with his coffee.

“Do you want more?” He asks. She just shakes her head and plays with her fingers. He looks across the table at Alex, who’s plowing through his pancakes, and then at Sandy, who looks down at her plate and then Margot’s. Then she slides half of her last pancake onto the little girl’s plate, and Margot beams and disappears it quickly. 

They hang around the diner until it's dark, and Percy still doesn’t have a plan. 

He walks up to the register to pay, instructing the kids to wait by the door. His waitress takes the cash and stares him down suddenly.

“Who are those kids to you?” She asks suddenly, not letting go of the receipt she hands him. 

“My cousins,” He says easily, looking back at them. Alex waves enthusiastically and Sandy offers him a wide smile, bouncing up and down. Margot just fidgets nervously. “They’re good kids.”

“Right,” She says, releasing the receipt and looking at him suspiciously. He shrugs it off and holds the door for the kids, letting them swarm him outside. 

“Now what!” Alex says, tugging on his hoodie sleeve. 

“Now you go home to your Momma, and Sandy goes home to her Dad, and…” He looks at Margot for a long time. “And I’ll walk Margot home after that,” He says finally.

He learns, through making sure the kids get home, where their homes are , which is good because he’s a little attached now. Especially with Alex’s Mom’s situation, according to Margot. 

Sometime between dropping Alex off and dropping Sandy off, he picks up another tail. This one, though, is much better at remaining unseen; if Percy weren’t who he is, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. As it is, he does, and he keeps part of his brain focused on the shadows surrounding them as he waves goodbye to Sandy. 

Then there is one. 

He looks down at Margot, who stares at Sandy’s door sadly, longingly. Percy wonders if he has enough sway to convince Sandy’s Dad to take Margot in. Margot, all of the sudden, reaches up and wraps her tiny- tiny - fingers around Percy’s thumb, and he sighs, defeated. 

You can’t just take a child home off the street, Seaweed Brain , Annabeth chides in his head.

“What am I gonna do with you, kid,” Percy sighs again, as he leads her away from Sandy’s house. He doesn’t trust any sort of foster system with demigods, and certainly not the ones in Gotham. He considers the Drachmas in his pocket and then Nico. 

“I was wondering the same thing,” A voice says from the shadow to his right, and he tugs Margot behind him, his hand plunging into his pocket for Riptide. 

The stalker finally reveals himself. He’s tall, a couple inches taller than Percy, and built like a shit brick house, bigger than Percy’s more lithely muscular sleeper build. He’s got body armor on, and a leather jacket, and he’s got a sleek red helmet on. Its white lenses stare him down silently, all three of them still in the dark. Percy doesn’t miss his hand resting on his holstered weapon.

“Um, Mr. Red Hood, sir,” Margot says suddenly from behind Percy. So this is the Red Hood.

“Margot-” Percy starts.

“Percy bought us food and now he’s walking me home,” She says, peeking out from behind his leg. The Red Helmet Man had tilted his head down (and down, and down even further) to look at her, and now he fixes those lenses right back on Percy.

“Is that so.” The Red Helmet Man’s voice is mechanized and flat. He seems to be waiting for Percy to explain himself. He shrugs.

“Yeah,” He says, and then stops, looking back down at Margot. She looks up at him and tugs on his hand with her tiny little fingers, her eyes wide and pleading. He crouches down next to her, and Hood shifts slightly, his body language screaming I-will-gut-you. Percy ignores him. “Honey, why don’t you go with Mr. Helmet? You said he knows where you stay?”

“But I want to come with you ,” She says stubbornly.

“ Di Immortales ,” Percy hisses under his breath, his free hand rubbing over his face tiredly. “Margot-”

“You have a sword,” She points out. Red Helmet Man goes even stiller, if it’s possible, and Percy knows he’s looking for a weapon on Percy’s person that he isn’t going to find. “You can stop the monsters.”

“Monsters?” He repeats, focusing suddenly. He can tell his concentration is a little too intense based on the way Margot shies away for a moment, and he tones it down until she looks at him again. “In Gotham?”

“Well, someone got my Mommy,” She mutters quietly. She tugs his hand again. “Sandy said you were more powerful than the Gods! You can protect me!”

“Shhh, sh, Margot, stop.” He glances at the sky, waiting for an angry thundering, or perhaps for someone to simply strike him down and put him out of his misery. Nothing happens. Perks of being the favorite errand boy, he guesses. “Sandy doesn’t- you can’t say that, okay? Don’t talk about that.” He looks over at Red Helmet Man, who is watching them with a gaze so heavy he can feel it through the helmet. He has little doubt the guy is hanging onto every word. “Please go with Mr. Helmet.”

Margot looks at him desperately. “But you’re like me.”

“I know, Margot, I know.” His heart is in his throat. “That might be even more dangerous. Go with Mr. Helmet, okay?” He nudges her towards Red Helmet, who places a protective hand on her shoulder as soon as she’s in range. Percy stands up, and Helmet is staring at him. He ignores him in favor of Margot, who’s watching him quietly.

“You’ll check on me?” She asks weakly.

“Every day,” He promises, and he means it. She nods, and he nods back, and then offers a goodbye to Helmet, too. “You know, your name’s misleading. You should rebrand to Red Helmet.” And then he turns and leaves the alley, with the knowledge that Helmet would be too tied up getting Margot ‘home’ to follow Percy back to his apartment. 

He doesn’t notice the cameras following his path in Helmet's wake.

Chapter Text

Percy wakes up with a familiar comforter under his fingertips and the smell of the sea in the air. When he opens his eyes, he’s looking up at a clear, pink-blue-gray sky, and when he shifts, sand shifts with him.

“You still drool when you sleep.” 

“Annabethl!” Percy says, sitting up quickly and reaching for her. Annabeth laughs and tangles her fingers with his, which is the only form of contact they have in these dreams. “Hey Wise Girl. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“And whose fault is that, Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth says fondly, raising both eyebrows at him and tapping under her eye with her pointer finger. “Nice eyebags.”

“Yeah.” He scrubs his free hand over his face. He’s been doing that a lot recently. “Don’t really feel like sleeping.” The reason goes unsaid- every demigod knows nightmares intimately. He wonders if she gets them in Elysium, and contemplates asking, but he knows this probably isn’t the real Annabeth and discussing her death with this version of her, alive, is too much for Percy to handle.

“Anything specific?” She asks, studying him, squeezing his hand. He closes his eyes and breathes out. Seems like he’ll have to talk about it anyway.

“It’s been a year, since. You know.” Her grip tightens and when he opens his eyes again, her eyes are stormy and her eyebrows are nearly touching each other. “Since.”

“Percy,” She says softly. 

“I miss you.” It forces its way out of his mouth, unbidden and without permission. “Your birthday’s soon.” Her thumb rubs up and down over the back of his hand, and he sighs shakily. 

“I miss you too, Percy.” She looks out over the sea wistfully, her mouth tilting up at the corners. “Time moves differently here. But not that differently.” She glances over at him for a second before redirecting her gaze again. “You look like you’ve aged a couple decades.”

Percy barks out an unexpected laugh, turning to look at her sharply. “Hey!”

She laughs back at him, and her smile makes him melt in his spot.

“I met some kids.”

“Kids?” She raised her eyebrows again. “At Camp?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” He sits up straighter and fiddles with the ring on his Camp necklace. She watches him curiously. “I moved. Out of New York. I’m in Jersey now. Gotham.”

Her face sours. “ New Jersey? Why?”

He huffs. “Chiron said so. Did you know that the Batman is real?”

Annabeth stares at him. The look in her eyes says, are you an idiot? He misses that look so much. No one can do it quite like her. 

“Percy, are you serious?” 

“I know, right? I saw him though. Like, in real life, a building away.”

“No, I mean-” She turns to face him fully, looking incredulous. “Of course he’s real. C’mon, Percy. The World’s Greatest Detective? The Justice League?” He just looks at her blankly. 

“You mean the team of superheroes who have no correlation to the Gods whatsoever that routinely save Earth from mortal peril, some of which are fucking aliens ?” Percy returns her look right back at her. “That’s not real!”

“Yes it is! Seaweed Brain.” She looks like she’d punch him in the arm really hard if she could. The small benefits of this strange dream space. “And one of them is a demigod. But regardless, yes , Batman is real. Just Batman , not the Batman.”

He shakes his head and waves his hand around in the air. “Whatever! Whatever. Off topic. Anyways, I live in Crime Alley and I found 3 baby half-bloods. Well. They found me. And then… followed me into a dark alley. And then I bought them pancakes. Uh.”

Annabeth is staring at him again. Between the words “Crime Alley” and the mention of children, the space between her eyebrows and hairline has continued to shrink. “Percy.”

“Listen, they wouldn’t leave me alone,” He insists. “One of them already knew who I was. Her Dad- well, she’s a legacy or something, I’m pretty sure. And Margot, she’s gotta be, like, 7 years old, and I’m 99.9% sure she’s Nico’s sister! Which...” He takes a deep breath. “Is not good. And I don’t know what to do about it.” For a long moment, only silence follows his words, and he really hopes that she’s using it to provide him with a plan, rather than polishing up a verbal reaming.

Annabeth leans back on her hand and  regards him fondly, smiling. 

Percy, despite himself, is smiling back. “What, Wise Girl?”

“You’re exactly the same magnet for trouble that you were at 12 years old, Seaweed Brain,” She tells him through laughter. She shakes her head and sobers up. “Are you gonna call Camp?” Percy opens his mouth and then closes it. 

“I… don’t know,” He says, frowning. “Alex and Sandy have a parent that can make that choice for them. Well, maybe not Alex soon. Margot… it’s Hades , Annabeth, and I’m gonna tell Nico but I think it should be a secret. I don’t know. I know it’s a little different now but-”

“Yeah, still. What with the oath.” She cuts in, nodding, and a quiet settles over them. Then, “You’re taking her in.”

Percy sputters. “I can’t!”

She just looks at him and then nods again. “You were going to do it anyway,” She says, matter-of-factly.

“No!” Yes. It seems inevitable. “I thought you’d discourage this!”

“Look me in my eyes,” She says firmly, meeting his gaze, “and tell me if that’s ever stopped you before.” He snaps his mouth closed and looks away, scowling faintly. 

“Whatever,” He grumbles. “There’s a problem with that, though I feel really creepy just saying this. There’s this guy, uh, Red Helmet Man-”

“The Red Hood?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He keeps talking when she opens her mouth to respond. “He thinks I’m evil or something. And rightfully won’t let Margot follow a strange man home. So I’m just gonna drop by her alley on the daily. Probably multiple times a day.” He groans. “ Am I a creep?”

Annabeth laughs and squeezes his hand again. “You’re not a creep. You're just good, Percy. I believe in you.” Around her, the colors become pale. The sound of the sea begins to fade, each rush of the tide fainter, until the only clear thing he can focus on is Annabeth. Her hair is already fading to shades of gray.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” He says sadly. She smiles back at him, equally sad. Her face begins to slowly fade. 

“I love you, Seaweed Brain. Stay out of trouble.”

Her smile disappears, until all he can see are her eyes.

“I love you, Wise Girl,” He says, from a great distance. “And besides-”

He blinks awake in his apartment, the phantom sensation of Annabeth’s hand lingering. He thinks about their conversation, and about Camp, and then, finally, about Margot and the children.

“Trouble always seems to find me,” He says to the empty apartment. 

July 12th, Park Row, New Jersey, 01 A.T.

It’s Annabeth’s birthday today.

Percy slept terribly the night before, so he’s in somewhat of a grumpy mood as he prowls down the Alley to Sandy’s house, and then to Alex’s apartment, before circling back and combing between buildings to find Margot. It’s become something of a new routine for him, and he’s starting to feel very protective over the damned kids. 

The third morning he’d made his rounds, he’d been noticed, so the children had taken to waiting in their front window or right outside the house for him to come by. They don’t notice him at any other time of day or at night, when he wakes up from a nightmare and is guilty of glancing around and inside their house from time to time(through the window!).

He passes by Sandy’s house and avoids being accosted due to her Dad looming over her shoulder. The older man offers him a wave, and he raises his hand lazily in response before moving on. Alex’s house, he has no such luck. The 10 year-old (as he’d learned, four days ago. He also learned that Sandy’s also 10 and Margot is actually 7 and a half , thankyouverymuch) bursts out his front door and slams into his legs, hard enough to bowl a lesser man over. Percy, however, plays with a Hellhound on a regular basis; if Alex hadn’t wrapped his skinny little arms around Percy’s legs and grabbed tiny, tight handfuls of his jeans, he would’ve bounced off and hit the asphalt.

“Hey, kiddo,” He says. He ruffles Alex’s hair and picks him up off the ground, settling him on his hip like a toddler. “How’s your mom?” 

Alex reaches out and ruffles his hair right back. He cracks a tiny smile, and Alex cups his face and beams at him. 

“Hi Percy!” He screams right in Percy’s face. Percy blinks, cringing a little. “Mom is really tired today. She can’t get out of bed because her bones hurt. But she says hi!” The child of Hermes (Percy is relatively sure) wiggles in his arms, so he releases him to the ground obediently. 

“Tell her I said hi back,” He says, vaguely amused by this game of telephone. “No school today?”

“No school on Fridays,” Alex sings. Percy nods.

“Nice, dude.” He offers his fist, and Alex bumps it with his own, pulling away with an explosion noise. “I’m off to find Margot. Stay out of trouble, but you have my number.” He’d remembered his phone the day after he met the little hellions, and gave them little pieces of paper with his name and number on it to give to their parents and to memorize. Sandy was very proud of the little song she’d made of it to remember. Honestly, so was Percy. 

“Bye, Percy!” Alex shouts, tugging on his pants before bolting back to his apartment and slamming the door behind him. This time, Percy does scoff out a laugh.

“Jeez. Doesn’t even need the flying shoes,” He mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting his search for Margot. Riptide fits into his grasp like an old friend.

It’s not long before he picks up a second shadow. Percy’s in a grouchy enough mood as it is, and it’s Annabeth’s birthday . Dealing with it is not his priority, so he refuses to acknowledge his unwanted companion and starts his search in Margot’s most common alleys. He’s glanced over three of them before whatever it is stalking him comes out. 

“Oh.” He blinks. “Red Helmet Man. You’re not what I was expecting at all.”

Red Helmet Man steps out of the shadows in a way that would have been vaguely threatening if Percy hadn’t stood in front of- a lot of different people, now that he thinks about it…

“It’s Red Hood,” Red Helmet Man says irritatedly. 

“Right,” Percy says, turning around absentmindedly and pursuing the next hiding spot. 

He’s stood in the Pantheon of the Gods, so definitely some heavy hitters in an Olympic Throne Room.

“What are you looking for?” Red Helmet Man asks.

And there was Kronos and his brothers. The giants. The Fates.

“Hey,” Red Helmet Man says, buzzing like a fly. “Hello?” The next alley is empty. Percy sighs.

Gaea, obviously. Nyx. Tart-

“Hey!” Red Helmet reaches out, maybe to grab his arm, maybe just to tap it. Percy takes a smooth step out of his reach and looks straight at him.

“Maybe you can help me,” He says. Red Helmet Man throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “I’m looking for that little girl from last week. Margot? She said you check on her.” And she was right. Several times on Percy’s routes, he nearly stepped into Helmet’s line of sight. 

“I set her up near Pine and 2nd,” Helmet says. “Got a couple people over there that are always around to keep an eye out for her.”

Percy turns in that direction. “You’ve had a change of heart,” He comments. He can’t help but stir the pot. Helmet walks next to him.

“I’ve kept an eye on you. I think you’re fine,” He says to Percy. Percy chooses to ignore the implication that he’s been, and possibly is still being, spied on.

“Helmet,” He says flatly, pressing a hand to his heart. “Your approval is everything to me. So what’s your deal, anyway? Gang lord-”

“ Crime lord-”

“With a love for children- wait, no. Who loves kids- hm. Who is very protective of the Alley’s younger population. How’s that going?” Helmet has been silent but he can feel his vicious side-eye. Percy can’t help but smile. “Helmet, you’re bringing me maximum joy right now. Thanks, I needed this.”

“Red. Hood. Hood ,” Helmet hisses through what sounds like grit teeth. “It was going better before an annoying teenager started crawling around my Alley.”

“Okay. Do you know what I’m saying when I say rizz?” Helmet recoils like Percy just spit in his face. “Yeah. No way you’re much older than me, pal.” Helmet stays silent again. Percy definitely won that.

When they cross the street on Pine, Percy takes a second to look around the area. It feels… bad. Not that it looks much worse than any other part of the Bowery, but he’s picking up some seriously awful vibes. But there’s no Monster Donut, no Titans walking down the sidewalk, no empousai watching from shop windows. Percy is in Gotham. Percy is safe.

Except this feeling has kept him alive. And he knows something isn’t right. He twists, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, hoping desperately for some obvious display of hostility. 

Nothing. The only strange thing about the street is that it’s empty for a Friday morning. 

“You got someone after you, kid?” Helmet asks warily, eyeing Percy with those bright lenses. 

“Always,” Percy says thoughtlessly before scowling. “But I have a really bad feeling right now. It isn’t safe here, for Margot. Find her somewhere else.” He starts towards 2nd with a new purpose, hearing Helmet follow him swiftly.

“It’s the safest place in the Alley for her,” Helmet retorts.

“Not for her ,” Percy says, his voice coming out darker than he means it to. He clears his throat. Maybe you have a base you can take her to?”

“Hey, kid? Crime lord. Not babysitter. I’m not keeping a 6 year old anywhere near live ammunition.” Percy slows down at the mouth of the alley and Helmet motions to a door hidden in the shadows. He steps forward and does a complicated series of knocks. “And what d’you mean, ‘for her ’?”

“7 and a half,” Percy corrects. “And-”

The door swings open and Margot spills out and makes a beeline for Percy. He doesn’t even let her crash into his legs like Alex did; he intercepts her and swings her into his arms, and her tiny little fingers bury into the back of the collar of his shirt under his hoodie.

“Percy!” She cries, before anyone can get a word out. She sounds terrified. “There are monsters here .” 

Percy’s head snaps up and he tries to peer inside through the gap between the door and its frame. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Helmet doing the same.

“Inside?” He asks sharply, relocating her weight to one arm and digging out Riptide with his free hand. 

“Everywhere,” She whimpers into his shoulder. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Percy murmurs, looking around again, and again finding nothing. “I feel them too.” He adds quietly, hoping that no one else heard that. Helmet’s lenses, which had been fixed to his face, move down to his pen. 

“Don’t leave me,” She begs him, pulling back to look him in the eye. She still hadn’t been acquainted with a shower, although it appeared someone went to town on her face with a wet wipe. Her eyes are big and watery and scared. For a split second, she really does look just like Nico, despite their clearly different features. 

“Gods,” Percy scoffs playfully, sticking Riptide in his mouth and speaking around it to push Margot’s bangs out of her eyes. “Are all of you equipped with puppy dog eyes? Huh?” He bounces her and she giggles tiredly, putting her head back down on his shoulder. He leaves the door behind them, stopping on the corner of Pine again, where the feeling of evil recedes a little. Even still, he puts a claw to his heart and then pushes outwards. 

“Hey,” He says to Margot. “What do you say to going to the library?” She perks up in his arms. “Today’s my friend’s birthday, so I was gonna go to the park, and then the library, and then go get ice cream. What do you think?” 

“Ice cream!” She chirps. Maybe she’s too big to be carried around, but he’s too tense to put her down. He still feels the crawling sensation, like he needs to be ready to run, and he likely won’t settle until they are back at his apartment. 

“Wanna get clean first?” He suggests. She cheers quietly and he smiles. 

From behind him, keeping to Percy’s right side and in just the bare edge of his peripheral, Helmet says, “What’s with the pen?”

Percy resigns himself to having a full day of two shadows and the 7 year old in his arms, even though it’s Annabeth’s birthday and he kind of wants to knock Helmet out and lose him. Riptide is still flipping lightly between his fingers.

“Safety,” Percy says, snickering to himself at Helmet’s aggravated silence. “Are you gonna follow me around all day?”

“I’m with the little lady,” Is all Helmet says, which is really annoying, because actually Percy is with the little lady. He doesn’t say that for Helmet’s sanity, much to his ungratefulness. He stalks along behind Percy, radiating irateness that Percy feels is undeserved. Hey, he doesn’t want Helmet here either. 

It takes them a little less than half an hour to get to Percy’s apartment, where he sets Margot down in front of the bathroom door. Helmet stands in the mouth of the hallway.

“Oh shi- shoot. I don’t know if I have clothes for you,” Percy realizes. Helmet snorts. Percy turns and walks into his room, aware that his two nosy guests have elected to take it as an invitation to follow him in. He’s glad Annabeth’s sword is tucked away. 

After digging through his dresser, he finds a shirt that used to be… Leo’s? Hazel’s? He had acquired it sometime after Gaea went down but before he went home to his Mom. It’s the smallest shirt he owns. He finds a pair of Annabeth's old shorts and swallows heavily before turning around and showing them to Margot, who is directly behind him. From the doorway, Helmet looks around the room passively. 

“How about this,” Percy says gently. “How about you shower, and I throw your clothes in the washer, and you wear these until they’re all clean, and you can have them back?” That solves the underwear and socks problem. 

“Okay!” Margot snatches the clothes out of his hand and squeezes between one of Helmet’s massive thighs and the doorframe. 

“Towels in the bathroom closet!” Percy calls. He hears the bathroom door slam shut, open in roughly 15 seconds, and then slam shut again. Helmet looks over his shoulder towards the bathroom and laughs, disappearing and returning with a bundle of filthy clothing.

“Where’s your washer?” He drawls, and steps aside to let Percy lead him down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen, where another door opens to a stacked in-unit washer and dryer. Helmet whistles. “Y’know what, nice digs, kid.” 

Percy smiles a little. “Thanks, man.” He drifts into the living room before abruptly thinking about Nico. “Uh, you can help yourself to the kitchen, couch, whatever. I’m gonna make a phone call in my room.” Helmet starts the load of clothes before regarding Percy briefly, saying nothing. Percy takes that as an agreement and closes his bedroom door behind him. Turning to Tyson’s fountain, he turns the two hippocampi away from each other, creating a fine mist. 

“Iris, O Goddess of rainbows,” Percy whispers. “Accept my offering.” He throws a Drachma into the mist, and it shimmers promisingly. “Show me Nico di Angelo.”

Slowly, an image fills out. Nico’s sitting cross-legged in an orange-brown corduroy armchair that, frankly, is a crime against humanity. He has a knitted red throw blanket thrown over his shoulders, and he’s paging through a book, clearly not reading. His eyes keep darting toward something out of frame.

“Nico,” Percy says quietly. Nico jumps about two feet into the air, and he curses, dropping his book. Out of frame, Percy hears Will laugh. 

“ Percy!? ” Nico sits up straight.

“Shhh!” Percy glances toward his closed door and wonders at the chance any of this conversation will be private. He points to his ear and then motions toward the door, and Nico nods. “Hey.”

“ I was gonna call later tonight, ” Nico says, his voice mellow like it always is nowadays (until it isn’t). “ How’s your July 12th going? ” He purposefully doesn’t define the date’s significance. Percy swallows hard.

“Oh, you know. Going to the library today. There’s a carnival, but.” He looks down at Nico’s knee, and then past the Iris message to the fountain. “I can’t.” He takes a deep breath and meets Nico’s eyes again. “But there’s, uh, something else, too!” Nico’s eyes, previously solemn, narrow in suspicion at his tone. 

“ Why’d you say it like that? ” He asks, getting closer to the Iris message.

“Ha, haha, funny story,” Percy begins, looking around. “So you know that sister you have?” He winces. Bad way to start, considering they both know Nico has had more than one sister. Nico makes a ‘get on with it’ gesture with his hand. “I found another one.”

Silence for one long moment. Nico bluescreens. Then, he explodes.

“What!?” He jumps up. “ Will! ”

“ What!? ” 

“ How old is she? ” Nico asks, leaning close and staring at Percy with wide eyes.

“ How old is who? ” Will asks from out of frame.

“ New sister. Percy?”

“She’s 7 and a half,” Percy says proudly. “And she’s got nowhere to stay, so I might be-”

“ Percy, tell me you aren’t taking a child into your care, ” Will says, looking aghast when he leans over Nico into frame.

“Well,” He begins, unsure where he’s going with this.

“ I think it’ll be good for him, ” Nico declares, clearly talking to Will and ignoring Percy.

“Hey,” Percy says.

“ Honey, ” Will says, his tone skeptical. “ Percy can’t even take care of himself. Look at those eye bags. ” They both turn in eerie sync to leer at his fucking eye bags. Which is so hypocritical of Nico.

“Hey!” Percy protests louder this time. He is, once again, ignored. 

“ But a 7 and a half year old would totally tire him out. Plus, Percy’s great at taking care of kids. He’s a counselor! ”

“ Good enough to say no to puppy dog eyes? ” Will challenges.

“ Well, if it’s important - ” Nico hedges. 

“Excuse me!” Percy nearly shouts. “Hi, hello, favorite cousin here, guy who’s funding this shit session, what the Hades. I can take care of myself! And say no to puppy dog eyes!” He lies, spreading his arms out and waving them around. They both give him dead stares. “Anyway. Margot!”

Nico’s face softens. “ Pretty name, ” He says quietly. Will presses a tan hand to his boyfriend’s pale face, cooing. Nico swats it away.

“I’m in Gotham right now-”

“ New Jersey? ” Nico crows incredulously.

“ Doesn't Batman live there? ” Will wonders at the exact same time.

Percy sighs. “I know, I shouldn’t be here, sacrilegious to my New York genes. The old horse said it was anti-our world. Hey, how’d you know the Batman’s real?”

“ What the hell is a bat man ,” Nico asks.

“ Batman is obviously real, Percy. Gods, I forgot you were too busy getting cooked in school to pay attention to history class. ”

“Hey, I listened great to Ch- Mr. Brunner’s lectures!” He defends. “Ancient Greek was my best subject.”

Nico and Will roll their eyes as their image starts to flicker. 

“ We’ll swing by in a couple days, ” Nico calls out as the signal fades. Then he’s left facing a blank wall. Down the hall, he hears the bathroom door swing open.

“All done!” Margot calls. Percy emerges from his room and finds Margot staring up at Helmet, her hair in her eyes.

“How do you feel?” Percy asks, and she spins around and thunders up to him. 

“Better,” She says. “No monsters here.”

“That is so true,” He agrees, tweaking her nose before picking her up and sweeping past Helmet. “We have to wait for your clothes, but then we can go start our day, okay?”

He plops her down on the couch. Helmet stands behind him as Percy opens his fridge and grimaces at the contents.

“What the hell,” Helmet says as Percy closes it and moves onto his cabinets. He finds a box of cheerios and gives them to Margot as Helmet snoops through the rest of the kitchen.

“What the hell,” He repeats, approaching Percy. “Your kitchen is empty!”

“To be fair,” Percy says tiredly, sitting down on a dining room chair. “I was not expecting guests.”

“Hey, smartass, you need to eat too,” Helmet snaps, crossing his arms and feeling weirdly intense. It’s a very Luke gesture. Percy looks away quickly. 

“I eat,” Percy says defensively, a beat too late. Margot looks over and offers him the box of cheerios. “No, thank you, Margot.” She shrugs and returns to lining them up on her knee and then eating them one at a time. Very cute, but also very inefficient. 

“That’s it,” Helmet says, uncrossing his arms. “I’m picking up breakfast. Any allergies?” He points at both of them, and when they both shrug, he turns and walks out the door without another word.

“Wow,” Percy says. “He’s serious about breakfast.”

“It’s the most important meal of the day,” Margot informs him.

“Traitor,” Percy mutters, and she giggles.

===============

Hood returns 10 minutes after Percy puts Margot's clothes in the dryer and finds both of them coloring on the floor. He stops in the doorway for a moment, studying both of them, before stepping through and locking the door behind him.

He tosses a plastic bag with three styrofoam boxes onto the table.

“Bone apple teeth,” Jason says, motioning towards the bag. Margot looks at him and puts her crayon down.

“No, it's bone app a t ee t!” She insists, standing up and stumbling over to the table, where Jason has gotten her pancakes. Well, great minds think alike.

Percy finishes coloring his fish and stands up to stretch. The coloring pages and crayons were a moving-in present from the Athena cabin. They're sea themed, of course. He can't really stay in the lines very well.

“Pancakes?” Percy asks, walking over and accepting his styrofoam box. Helmet nods and pulls out his own box, following Margot back to her spot on the floor and sitting next to her. Percy joins them, pushing the coloring pages to the side.

Percy starts to wonder how Helmet is actually going to eat when he removes his helmet with a faint hiss . He still has a mask on, but it doesn't hide most of his features. Percy eyes the white streak in his hair with curiosity and backhanded nostalgia.

 He returns his gaze to his pancakes.

“Nice fish,” Helmet says, nodding at his coloring page. Percy, fingers already somehow sticky with syrup, grins.

“Thanks. His name's John.” Helmet tilts his head at him.

“Oh, mine is Kelly! Mine is Kelly,” Margot tells them seriously through a mouthful of pancake. Percy blanches.

“Why Kelly ?” He groans. Helmet chuckles. “Why not, like, Susan ?”

“Ex girlfriend?” He asks.

“Fuck no, she'd eat me.” Literally. 

“You said a bad word,” Margot accuses. Percy throws his hands up, and Helmet laughs.

—--------------------

They get to the park around 1PM when the sun has just past its highest peak. It’s unnaturally nice outside. Percy keeps his hoodie on and brings a backpack, and Margot insists on wearing his smallest jacket (a black zip up with some grunge band on the back that Thalia left in his cabin ages ago) to match him. Helmet, who leaves his leather jacket at Percy's apartment (which is an ominous promise) flits in and out of his line of vision around the park.

He lays out the blanket he brought on the grass (not his comforter- he couldn't handle that) and splits his time between watching Margot and staring at the tops of buildings cutting harsh lines across the sky and reminiscing about Annabeth’s birthday before the whole Luke fiasco. Percy ends up carrying the jacket for Margot when she gets too warm playing on the equipment. He considers the red bucket on Helmet's head and wonders how hot it gets out in the sun.

“Percy,” Margot calls from the swings. “Come push me!” 

He groans when he stands up, gathering the blanket and Margot's jacket and stuffing it back in his backpack. 

He pushes Margot on the swings for a while before they move onto the library. Percy's lost sight of Helmet but there's a big guy with his hood up- like, a real hood- in the library near the colorful children's section, so Percy can make his own assumptions. He leads Margot over to the bright shelves, narrowing his eyes and trying desperately to read the titles. 

“Where's your friend?” She asks him as he's halfway through Harry Potter and the.

“What?”

“It's your friend's birthday,” She points out. “Am I going to meet your friend?”

Percy looks down at her eyes, unrelenting in their stare, and then away, towards the section in the back. He doesn't bother to read the label of the section, but he sees a picture of Julius Caesar.

“No. She, uh,” Percy pauses, unsure of how to continue. “Her name was Annabeth. She's not here anymore.”

“She died?” Margot asks solemnly in that serious way of hers. Percy nods.

“Yeah, sweetheart, she died,” He agrees in a thick voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. They go back to looking at book titles before he remembers that she probably can't read either, and they only stay for about 10 more minutes walking around solely for the atmosphere before leaving.

“What was Annabeth like?” Margot asks as they walk to the ice cream shop. “When did she die?” 

“She was the smartest person I'd ever known,” He says roughly. “She'd read through a book in an hour and then sit there and tell me why it was awful. She'd design these crazy builds and somehow just know the math for it. And she was fearless. She always had my back. She was a brutal warrior. She can work a sword, but you should see her with Luke's dagger.” He shakes his head, thinking about the time he would spend between enemies in the midst of battle just glancing over at her to watch her fight. “She died a year ago this July.” Margot nods, and he opens the door to the ice cream shop for her. 

“Who's Luke?” She asks as they go to the self-serve bar. He considers ignoring her question and grabs a small cup for her.

“pick out a flavor,” He instructs. “Luke is also gone.”

“Do you have any alive friends?” She asks, frowning at him. He frowns back.

“Yes,” He says pointedly. “Now pick a flavor.”

She points to vanilla. He fills up her cup and hands it to her to carry.

“Can I meet any of them?”

He grabs his own cup and fills it with blue raspberry sorbet.

“Well.” They set their ice cream on a scale and he hands a 20 to the cashier. Then they go sit down at a table. He gives Margot her jacket back since the A/C is really blasting. “My cousin Nico and his boyfriend Will really want to meet you. They’re coming in a few days.” Margot sits up straighter.

“That's a cousin, not a friend,” Margot says. Then she registers the second part. “They’re visiting?” She sounds elated and Percy laughs.

“I’m as excited as you,” Percy promises. “I haven’t seen Nico and Will since the wa- uh, since last September.” He leans close. “You and Nico are gonna get along really well. He’s spooky just like you.” Whether or not she understands what Percy is implying is moot, because Margot’s excitement is already palpable. 

On the way home, Helmet makes an appearance again- well, Margot doesn’t seem to notice him, but Percy has a hard time missing the feeling of eyes on his back. When he enters the apartment with her, Helmet has already made it inside and is lounging languidly on the couch, sans red headpiece. 

“Make yourself at home,” Percy says dryly. Margot giggles and scrambles to the bathroom. He watches after her, shaking his head. Kids and their endless need to get somewhere as fast as possible. Nico is the exact same way; Percy’s seen him shadow travel to and from different rooms before. 

“So what are you gonna do with the kid?” Helmet asks. His tone, surprisingly, isn’t hostile. Instead it contains only mild curiosity. His hands are behind his head, far away from his weapons. Percy almost relaxes, hands conveniently in his pockets. 

“Well, ideally, feed her,” Percy says, purposefully leaving Helmet’s inquiry into his long term plans (or his plans for later tonight, whatever) unanswered. “Any order-in recommendations? “

Helmet sighs, sitting up and stretching his (massive) arms over his head. 

“How about I make you dinner for the special occasion?” Helmet suggests, something pointed in his tone. Percy stops moving.

“Special occasion?” He repeats. There’s no way he could’ve missed Helmet’s involvement with all things Greek, Godly, or mythical, right?

“Your friend’s birthday,” Helmet says. Right. He was at the library.

“You’re not very good at being inconspicuous or playing dumb, are you?” Percy says, his fingers uncurling around Riptide as he moves past Helmet deeper into the apartment towards his room. 

“Well, when you’re made, what’s the point in stealth?” Helmet retorts. He gets up and heads towards the kitchen. So as long as he stays far from Percy, Percy is indifferent. He changes out of his jeans and into pajama bottoms and leaves Annabeth’s shorts from earlier outside of the closed bathroom door for Margot to change into. 

Helmet is puttering around the kitchen like he lives with Percy, confidently heating… something up on the stove. Which is strange, because this morning Percy did not have a single scrap of food in his possession besides American cheese and a head of rotting lettuce. And mustard, obviously. 

“Where’d you get food?” Percy asks, trying to see around Helmet into the pot. His body is just too broad, though, and eventually Percy gives up and slouches on the back of the couch. 

“Went grocery shopping. You’re welcome,” Helmet grunts, stirring his concoction. Margot comes out in Annabeth’s shorts and climbs onto the couch, folding her hands in her lap. Percy considers her.

“So,” He asks her quietly. “What’s the plan? Wanna find somewhere else to stay, or do you want-”

“I want to stay with you,” Margot cuts him off, looking at him imploringly with big brown-black eyes. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Gonna need stuff to keep you busy when you’re not at school then, huh?” He says, ruffling her hair and looking around his suddenly noticeably bare apartment. “And probably some clothes…” Percy cannot believe he’s just acquired a child. Just like that. A month into living in Gotham. 

He can almost hear Annabeth laughing at his pain.

Seaweed Brain.

Helmet dishes out their plates and lo and behold, it’s pasta. Percy inhales his like a vacuum cleaner, and gets seconds (and then thirds). Margot eats hers pretty quickly, too. Percy is beginning to wonder about the cost of groceries for a growing teenage-ish boy and a growing baby child. 

Helmet finishes his bowl too, and Percy provides Margot with another coloring book (shark themed) before gathering up the dishes and bringing them to the sink.

Helmet just stands there, observing Percy, leaning back against the wall with his head at that tilt he always keeps it. 

“What?” Percy snaps. Margot jumps a little.

“What’s the next move?” Helmet asks, inclining his head slightly toward Margot. 

“She’s sleeping over,” Percy says. “As per request. For the indefinite future.”

“Right.” Helmet stays still before sighing. “How are you gonna register her for school? Who’s gonna watch her while you’re at work? Do you make enough money to support a child? Is your lifestyle safe enough to include a child?”

Percy blinks.

“You had those at the ready,” He says, his brow furrowing.

“It’s an unfortunately useful checklist that I break out unfortunately often, I can assure you,” Helmet mutters. Whatever that means. Percy considers his checklist.

“Well, I think I can afford it,” Percy muses. “I’ll be recruiting my cousin to help me soon. I… don’t know about the school stuff. You’re telling me Gotham doesn’t have a system in place for homeless kids?” He ignores the safety question, for now. Not like Margot’s life would be any more safe without him in it, probably. Now she actually has a demigod to watch over her- and Percy’s no chump with a sword or in a fight- she’s safer than she was before.

Helmet regards him with those white lenses in his domino, his mouth a flat unreadable line. Percy assumes he does most of his emoting with his eyebrows and eyes, which are inconveniently hidden from his sight. 

“There kind of is,” Helmet answers, sounding thoughtful. “I’ll find you some resources, I guess, if you’re really committed to this.” He pushes off the wall and scoops his Helmet up from the table, securing it over his head. As he’s walking out the door, he waves over his shoulder and disappears into the night. Percy locks the door behind him and Margot meets his eyes when he looks over at her.

“So dramatic,” He tells her seriously. She nods just as grimly.

He doesn’t give her long before leading her to his room and tucking her in. He can take the couch until further notice.

Percy misses the sound of the fountain as he stares up at the ceiling of his living room, and tries desperately to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

July 12th, the Bowery, Gotham City. 23:40               

Jason wants to slam his head repeatedly into a wall. And then slam his fists repeatedly into some faces. 

Perseus “Percy” Jackson. A random teenager who showed up a month ago and recently gained a flock of Alley kids. A teenager with bright green eyes and a distinguishable patch of gray buried in his curls. A teenager with a concerning history, based on a single Google search. A teenager with a friend who died last July, somehow , even though there’s no Earthly record of it, and one who always knows Jason’s there. At least he’s terrible with technology and misses every single one of the bugs Jason’s left floating around, though they don't work in his apartment, strangely. The kid’s got a damned flip phone.

In lieu of slamming any of his body parts into anything, he slams the door of his safehouse shut behind him. As soon as he walks in, he curses.

Tim has made a home on his couch, it seems. He’s got his laptop propped on his lap and a big fluffy blanket around his shoulders. Jason shoots him a scowl and stalks towards his room to strip out of his gear.

It took Tim and Jason a long time to work out their problems. Mainly Jason's problems with Tim, and the fact that he tried to murder him multiple times. He wasn't easily forgiven and he shouldn't have been, because it was a terrible thing he did to the kid. Terrible things .

For some reason, it doesn't stop Tim from being strangely clingy.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Jason calls irritatedly, pulling on a stretched red long sleeve shirt with Star City’s logo faded across it. He shimmies into baggy sweatpants as Tim replies.

“This is your favorite safehouse,” His little brother lies to his face as he returns to the living room. Jason is pretty certain Tim has hidden a tracker somewhere on his person and recognized his route home. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Case,” Jason grumbles, a half-truth. He’s given up on calling Tim out for his stalking because it turns out he’s completely shameless.  

“Me too,” Tim says commiseratingly, his fingers moving rapidly across his laptop’s keyboard. Jason doesn’t want to imply having interest in whatever Tim’s working on, even though, much to his chagrin, he is interested. Tim seems to not care either way, or maybe he’s just figured out how to read Jason, because he elects to share more.

“There’s some sort of weird smuggling operation going on,” Tim starts. “Remember the history thing Dick and I told you about last week that he, Cass, Damian and I went to? Full of really weird Ancient Greek stuff. I know they’re hiding going on: "there’s a gap in where their funding’s coming from and I just get a really weird vibe from the whole thing.” He stops, frowning, like he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, before continuing. “And then there’s this security guard.” Jason points to the kitchen with raised eyebrows, a silent did you eat , to which Tim replies with a deadpan look that says, what the hell do you think . Jason sets to work on making a sandwich for the kid before he wastes away.

“He’s just… I don’t know. At first it was just his aura. Completely freaky. It felt like the air was heavy. You’re a nerd-”

“Hey!”

“You know when books say the air is ‘charged'? Like in a figurative sense? It felt like the air was quite literally carrying an electric current. And he had these eyes.” Tim frowns deeper. “Freaky eyes, Jason, like yours. And he seemed to know something about one of the exhibits. I did some research on the company he works for and they’re contract hires, so someone chose him on purpose.”

Jason hums, half listening as he hands the kid the sandwich and then settles down next to him, flicking on the TV. 

“And then , I googled him, obviously, and it’s the weirdest history ever.” Jason grunts. He knows all about weird search results recently. “Like, when he was 12, he was part of this crazy nationwide manhunt or something.” Wait. “He blew up the St. Louis Arch!” Tim tosses his hands in the air as Jason looks over at him dumbly. “And his name is Greek, too. Perseus Jackson. Not to mention, he looks like he’s been in a Pit.” Tim side eyes him, but Jason is too busy thinking about his little brother also discovering the giant Percy shaped question mark walking around Crime Alley.

“That’s my case,” Jason blurts before he can think about it. Tim snaps his entire body toward Jason in a move that’s eerily similar to Dick when he gets cuddle fever. Luckily, Tim is much stranger, and so he sort of just vibrates in place.

“What do you know.” Tim is not asking. His eyes cut into Jason like cleavers, and Jason feels a small trickle of unease.

“Not much,” Jason admits reluctantly. “I know him as Hood. He seems okay, though. Definitely a New Yorker. Got a couple kids following him around, recently took one into his care.” He thinks. “She’s a little girl that keeps saying Percy’s like her , so maybe he’s meta? She thinks he has a sword but I’ve never seen him with a weapon. Nothing suspicious in his apartment either.” Well, as far as Jason had found, besides a lot of books in Ancient Greek, that really weird fountain in his bedroom, and pictures of people that gave Jason memorial vibes. He tells Tim as much. “Maybe he’s got a hobby.”

Tim grimaces, clearly not buying it.

“There’s something weird with him. Dick did his classic ‘oops i didn’t mean to bump into you’ conversation starter and Perseus broke his ankles, Jason. Dick Grayson got his ankles broken by a random civilian. ”

“Hmm,” Jason says, loath to admit any failures but feeling better about it after the information about Dick. “He always knows when I’m tailing him, too. Always . Keeps his hand in his pocket like he’s packing heat, but all he’s got is a ballpoint pen.” Which infuriates Jason to no end. Percy doesn’t carry around paper, gum, or any form of ID. He rarely has his phone on him, as far as Jason can tell. Just that stupid pen.

“Well, he’s a night owl. Steph and Cass saw him the night before the exhibition at a coffee shop, at like, 3AM. Cass thinks he’s not a civilian at all, and his history is so weird after the whole thing when he was 12.” Tim tugs at his hair. “I mean, the guy goes to school just like normal, and then he’s suddenly missing for 6 months, and then he shows up alone in California ? And then Alaska? ” Tim shakes his head. “He was last seen in Rome a year ago, with a group of kids his age.” And yours, Jason doesn’t say. “They left without him and some blonde girl they were with and he hasn’t been seen since. Now he’s here in Gotham. I don’t understand.”

“He said his friend died last July,” Jason starts, feeling a little wrong for sharing the conversations he overheard. “Today was her birthday.”

“Did he say a name?” Tim asks, still staring at him intensely. Jason almost asks him to tone it down.

“Annabeth?”

“Annabeth Chase.” Tim scowls. “She was with him during the manhunt incident. I’m pretty sure she’s also the girl who vanished with him in Rome.” He studies his laptop screen, finally tearing his scary eyes away from Jason. Then he looks up again. Jason stifles a groan. “Do you think he killed her? Do you think he’s involved in this weird smuggling thing?”

“No and I don’t know. He’s pretty messed up about her death still, I think.” Jason knows . He heard Percy answer the phone in his apartment, bits and pieces of the conversation filtering through his bedroom door. He heard the notes of pain in Percy’s voice as he described Annabeth to Margot. “I’m pretty sure he was in love with her,” Jason adds. Tim just hums, hyperfocused on his computer screen, and Jason resigns himself to hearing about Percy Jackson until the mystery is solved. He’s not sure why, but he’s invested.

“Eat your sandwich,” He reminds Tim. Nothing about Percy makes much sense.

He intends to change that.

—-----------------

???? ?? Park Row, ?? ??

Percy’s standing on a sidewalk on the edge of a wide empty street. He doesn’t recognize the area and he’s not really sure when he left his apartment, but he’s pretty sure this is the Crime Alley, as in Park Row. Helmet is probably around nearby.

To his left, there is a road that stretches for miles and miles. He can’t determine what color the sky is. When he turns to his right, his stomach drops. 

The street drops off. He doesn’t need to look to know how deep the drop is. He’s fallen down it before. The wind pulls insistently at his hair and clothes. A newspaper tumbles past and he picks it up. The date in the corner is in a language he doesn’t know. The headline says something about Brutal and Tragedy and there’s a picture.

A picture of Margot. 

He drops the newspaper and it tumbles away, blowing down the street and bouncing into the hole where the jagged asphalt stops. 

Standing where she wasn’t before, Margot looks up at him from three feet away. Her face is blank.

“Margot?”

There’s spider silk. Around her ankle. It yanks her back and she falls to the ground, reaching for him. He tries to move towards her but his feet won’t budge, and she screams Percy as she’s pulled into the pit, her face morphing into Annabeth’s as she disappears from sight. 

The dream shifts. Percy’s looking down at the street from the top of a building. He turns and Helmet is next to him, looking down at the pit. When he takes his helmet off, Percy stops breathing.

It’s Luke. It’s Luke. 

“How could you let her die?” He asks. It’s not Kronos’ cold, grating voice, and it’s not the manic, bitter Luke that sicced a pit scorpion on him or lashed out at him on a cruise ship. He sounds just like he did when he asked Percy for the knife. Desperate, afraid, resigned. 

All around them, the air turns poisonous. The sky darkens into a deep, reddish black. Under their feet, the building shifted into the harsh, rocky edge of a cliff. 

“At least I did the right thing,” Luke hisses at Percy, bleeding from his side under his arm. He pushes Percy off the cliff. Percy falls, reaching out for anything, anyone-

Percy lands on a solid surface with a loud thump . His heart is pounding and everything is blurry. He can’t see anything but the solid white sky. He clambers to his feet, Riptide in his hand, chest heaving. His foot slides on something on the floor and he looks down.

It’s a paper depicting a poorly colored whale shark. It's black with blue spots and white eyes. On the top of the page, Percy makes no sense of the scribbled handwriting. Is that an N?

Wait. Percy takes a deep breath, his pulse slowing. He glances at the oven clock. He’s in his living room. In his apartment. It’s 2 in the morning.

July 15th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T.

Percy is at home. He takes another big breath and drops down onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” He whispers, rubbing his face.

At least I did the right thing .

It was just a dream. It’s nonsensical. It could be referring to any one of his mistakes leading up to this moment. It could mean anything. He shouldn’t think about it. He tries to think about Annabeth instead.

Annabeth holding tight to his hand. Annabeth dragging him onto a beach of glass. Annabeth swinging her bone sword next to him. 

Annabeth pushing him down to the ground. Annabeth standing over him, her sword landing by his foot. Annabeth, her eyes wide and her mouth open around his name. There is a fist through her stomach. She does not look down at it. She just says Percy .

At least I did the right thing.

“I couldn’t have stopped it,” He says out loud, his voice wavering. He sounds like a liar even to himself. He wants Annabeth to say something, anything. He wants her to tell her that it wasn’t his fault. He wants her to coldly point out that it was. He wants her to yell at him, or swing her dagger, or judo flip him, or kiss him on the mouth, or hold him tight. He wants her to hold his face in her hands and look at him like he’s stupid and call him Seaweed Brain . He wants to pretend that it’s like when Hera wiped his memories, that it’s only distance that separates them, not mortality. 

He’s unsuccessful. Percy puts his head in his hands and weeps.

====

There's a creak of the wooden floorboard by the hallway, and Percy's next silent cry catches on his breath as he spins around. 

It's Margot.

“Hi Percy,” She says quietly.

“Hi Margot. Did I wake you up?” She walks over to him slowly, like she's approaching a stray dog. 

“No,” she says. “I had a nightmare.” Percy helps her up onto the couch next to him, and she leans into his side. He wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Me too,” He tells her, looking down at where her little hands have found one of his. 

Her fingernails are so small. She's so young. She's in so much danger and she's just a baby.

“Do you want to know what it was about?” Margot asks tentatively. When he looks up at her, she clarifies, “my nightmare.” 

“What was it about?” Percy asks. Margot looks down, like she wasn't expecting him to say yes. Or like she's ashamed. “You don't have to tell me.”

“I lied to you about my mommy.”  Margot looks at him guiltily. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Percy reassures immediately. “What about her?”

“She can't come back. Monsters took her. She's gone. ” Percy wants to ask about the monsters taking her but it's not what Margot's getting at. His chest feels heavy.

“Gone like- Annabeth?” He chokes halfway through the question, faltering over her name. Luke's face flashes across his vision, locked in a disappointed stare. Like he had expected the worst of Percy and Percy delivered.

Margot nods and wiggles closer to him, drawing his attention back.

“What was your nightmare about?”  Margot asks. 

Percy disentangles himself from her and leans back to put his head on the couch's armrest. She crawls on top of him and presses her head against his chest, right above his heart.

He sighs.

“Mine was about people who are gone, too.”

“Annabeth?” 

“Yeah.”

“Luke?”

Percy squeezes his eyes shut. His next words come out strangled and hoarse.

“Yeah, Margot. I have this thing where I keep hurting people I care about.” He did not mean to say that. It's one of many speculations on what dream Luke meant. Margot stills on top of him. 

Great job, Seaweed Brain. You've vented to a 7 year old. How do you feel?

Worse actually, thanks. 

“You don't hurt me, Percy,” Margot says firmly, leaning over him to look him in the eyes. 

“Kid, you've known me for a week.”

“Now I live in your house.” She puts her hands on either side of his face and squishes until he looks like a fish. “Now I'm wearing your clothes.” She sits up and proudly shows off the sweatshirt she must've pilfered from his closet. It makes him wonder about the sword hidden away and the odds of Margot finding it. Helmet's voice echoes annoyingly in his ear, something about live ammunition. 

“You thief,” He accuses, gasping. “But that's not mine. It's my friend Frank's.”

“Alive?” Margot asks.

“Yes ma'am.”

“Good job Frank!” Margot cheers, and he laughs, some of the weight on his chest seeming lighter for a moment.  

Percy has had Margot for three days this morning. He still hasn't gotten around to finding anything by way of entertainment past his coloring books for Margot; he's got to go to work eventually, because he's going to have to start using sick time soon. They'd gone thrifting for clothes the first day (and a dresser, which he put at the end of the hallway by virtue of it being impossible to fit in the bedroom). Then he took her to a department store to get underwear and socks, a backup toothbrush, her own choice in soap (she only picks out shampoo and conditioner. She insisted that they had to use the same body wash. Percy just threw the one he usually gets into the cart), and various other odds and ends. 

Helmet stopped by yesterday, although it was unclear whether he meant for his presence to be known. He hadn't reacted either way to Percy's wave. He just stared with glowing lenses and then dipped. 

Percy can do that too. He doesn't even need lenses, his eyes glow all on their own. He needs to remember to tell Helmet how stupid he looks next time he sees him.

“Hey! Hey!” Margot squishes his cheeks again to get his attention. She holds them there this time. “Are you listening? You distracted me!”

“What do you mean?” Percy tries to ask, but what comes out more like wah and Margot collapses into giggles, releasing his face. 

“You're sharing your cousin with me!” She says all of a sudden, glaring at him determinedly. “You care about me!”

“Yes,” He agrees.

“You don't hurt me.” She lays back down on his chest and pulls the blanket up over them both. “You're good, Percy.”

You're just good, Percy . 

Percy wraps his arms around Margot and breathes. 

“Thank you, Margot.”

========

The next time he wakes up, Percy is alone. The sun is peering through the living room window over his head and he can hear the shower running.

He sits up with a groan. The skin on his face feels hypersensitive when he rubs his calloused hands over it, and his eyes are impressively crusty. His skin feels sticky with sweat, probably from sleeping with a blanket and also a 7 year old child on top of him. 

While he waits for his turn for the shower, he scrambles some eggs for Margot. The oven clock says it’s 7AM. 

Percy’s stomach turns at the thought of eating. Every time he blinks, he sees Annabeth’s wide eyes, her mouth in the shape of his name. He sees Bob holding the button shut for him, Damasen charging Tartarus. He just knows, without a doubt, that they were killed- worse, likely absorbed like Hyperion and Krios, never to reform again. He sees Luke’s devastated face in the throne room. He sees Michael Yew go down with the bridge that Percy collapsed, Beckendorf’s hand coming down on his watch, his eyes squeezed shut. Percy takes the pan off the burner and turns it off, leaning over the oven with his eyes squeezed shut. 

His blood bubbles restlessly, and he feels unusually on edge, adrenaline coursing through him like a river. He needs to fight, needs to hold the hilt of Riptide and not just its pen form. He needs to see some gold dust bursting around him. Monsters are easy, and he hasn’t had a real fight in a long time. He can handle monsters.

He thinks about Pine and 2nd Street.

Margot bursts out of the bathroom, running briefly to his room to deposit her dirty clothes in the hamper before joining him in the tiny kitchen. He smiles as he takes in the outfit she chose for herself. Her shirt is long-sleeved and brown, and she’s gotten mostly into a pair of light wash overalls, except for one of the straps, which hangs unbutton on her shoulder. She’s wearing striped blue socks and is wielding a hairbrush.

“Love your outfit,” Percy tells her honestly, helping her button the strap.

“Thank you!! Breakfast?” She asks hopefully. Percy gives her a plate of eggs with an unpeeled Cutie on it, and she carries it over to the table carefully with one hand. He follows behind and takes her hairbrush, gently detangling her hair as she eats.

“So,” Percy says. “How do you feel about a sleepover at Sandy’s house tonight?” He can feel the beginnings of a plan forming in his head, but he’s not leaving Margot all on her own with no way to contact him.

“Mr. Dennis won’t let me,” Margot says sullenly. Percy grimaces at the back of her head. He had finally met Dennis Bowlen, Sandy's father, the first day he’d had Margot and took her on his rounds with him. The middle-aged man had shaken Percy’s hand with fervor, thanking him for his service (needless to say, awkward. Percy couldn’t suppress his discomfort the whole time). He’d also reluctantly interacted with Margot, with Percy’s insistence. Percy is not against using whatever power he has for good, and especially for Margot. 

“Nah, he’ll let you,” Percy says, his mind made up. “We can see if that’s something Sandy will be interested in when we swing by in a bit.” He sets the hairbrush down and exchanges it for Margot’s plate, which is already empty. She’s picking halfheartedly at the skin on the Cutie. “Did you brush your teeth?”

Margot stares at him.

“Yes,” She lies. Percy rolls his eyes.

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll be there in a sec.” She grumbles but trudges towards the bathroom. He huffs out a laugh under his breath, putting the dishes in the sink and resolving to wash them later. He joins Margot in front of the bathroom mirror and puts toothpaste on his toothbrush.

She spits out a mouthful of toothpaste. 

“Are you still sad?” She asks, looking at his reflection imploringly. Percy briefly meets her eyes in the mirror before looking down at the sink. He takes his toothbrush out of his mouth.

“Nah,” He lies, and resumes brushing his teeth. Margot frowns at him and sticks her toothbrush back in her mouth. Percy spits. “Are you still sad?” Margot begins rinsing off her mouth and toothbrush.

“Sometimes,” She says solemnly. “But I’m okay right now.” He nods and copies her movements, depositing his toothbrush next to hers in the plastic cup by the faucet and following her to his bedroom, where she flops on the bed and he digs through his clothing for something to wear. He comes up with a ratty dark brown shirt to match Margot and his most worn pair of jeans. Then he pulls out his hoodie and Thalia’s zip up jacket and tosses the latter to Margot. It falls over her like a blanket where she lies face-down on the comforter.

“Leave in 15,” He calls over his shoulder, slipping into the bathroom. Margot makes a groaning noise into the mattress and he laughs to himself, closing the door behind him and turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to heat up, he studies his reflection with a degree of apathy, taking in his red rimmed eyes and dark circles and wild hair. His eyebrows have been nearly permanently furrowed this past year, his mouth set in a slight frown. He smiles. It looks extremely fake and vaguely threatening, then strips and climbs over the edge of the bathtub. The water running over his body soothes his aches from sleeping on the couch and then falling to the floor. It does nothing to soothe the ragged anxiety in his chest, or the cacophony of thoughts that bang disruptively around his head. 

At least I did the right thing. 

Percy, feeling sick again, finishes showering quickly. He finds Margot waiting on the living room floor, drawing her own picture on the back of a used coloring page. Probably the whale with blue spots from earlier. 

“Alright, kiddo, get your shoes on.” He laces up his own Converse and waits patiently for Margot to tie hers, which she insisted he never help her with because “I can do it myself Percy, I’m a big girl.”  

Their first destination is Sandy’s house. Mr. Dennis and Sandy are both waiting for him at the window. They both come out when he walks up the driveway.

Margot and Sandy immediately begin conspiring away from the adults, and Margot shoots him a big thumb’s up over his head as if to say she’s on board . He gives her a more subtle thumbs up back and greets Mr. Dennis. 

“Hello, Percy,” Mr. Dennis says good naturedly. “You’re looking tired.”

“Ha, yeah. You know how it is,” Percy says, trying for a smile and knowing he doesn’t get any further than he had in the bathroom mirror based on Mr. Dennis’ growingly concerned look. “Hey, so, I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?” The older man looks at him, then traces his gaze over to the kids.

“Can Margot spend the night?” Before Dennis can reply, Percy continues. “I am tired, Mr. Dennis. But there are monsters in the Alley, and I’m going after them. I just don’t want to leave Margot alone.”

Mr. Dennis scrutinizes him. Then he sighs, and Percy has to resist punching his fist in the air.

“I suppose,” The man says defeatedly. “If you two can live together and not be attacked, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

Percy nods.

“I’ll send her over with some stuff from Hecate’s kids, too. Protection stuff.” He’s been meaning to distribute some protection sigils the campers had taught him last fall when he was still at camp, right after the (second) war. 

Mr. Dennis looks pleasantly surprised.

“That’s mighty kind of you, Mr. Jackson.” He looks back towards the kids. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“What?”

“Helping,” Mr. Dennis says, looking back at him. “It’s just your nature.”

“Uh, right. Thanks?” Percy tries for another smile and lands firmly on a grimace. “Margot and I should be going. Um. I’ll drop her off late afternoon sometime. Bye.” And then he retreats to the edge of the driveway again, waving Margot over and taking her hand as they leave.

“Success?” She asks, looking up at him. He smiles again, this time a real one.

“You bet,” He confirms. She shakes his hand in excitement.

It takes about 20 minutes to get to Alex’s apartment, who is waiting for them in the hall today. He slams into Percy, just like usual, and then bounces in a circle around Margot.

“Hi Percy! Hi Margot!” He yells excitedly. Percy waits for him to stop jumping and then ruffles his hair.

“Hi,” Margot says, quiet but happy. 

“Hey Alex,” Percy says kindly. “How’re you and your Mom?”

Alex resumes jumping. “She’s good! She made me breakfast today! No cereal! And She’s taking me to school today instead of the bus!”

Percy and Margot cheer. Percy reminds him that he’s a phone call away and they take their leave.

“What say you to going to the store and picking out stuff for you to do at home?” Percy asks Margot, tugging her along in the direction of the bus stop. She shakes his hand again, more insistently. “Start thinking about it now, so you know kind of what you want when we get there,” He suggests. He knows, because he was Margot at some point, that it’s a fruitless endeavor. As soon as they get to the store, all of the possibilities will flood in. Everything at the thrift store is touchable, and he knows the urge intimately. 

Maybe he’s still Margot… 

Well, they’re cut from the same cloth, literally. Sort of. So it makes sense. The bus pulls up and comes to a stop with a hiss . They board and he takes her to the very back by the emergency exit, because he has a distinct hatred for being in buses and it manifests into a phobia. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

Because of this not-phobia, he’s watching the entrance as the man boards the vehicle.

He’s huge and graceful, and Percy recognizes a threat when he sees one. His hood is up. Percy narrows his eyes, watching as the man comes down the aisle. He stops five rows in front of them. Percy’s already twirling Riptide in his fingers, and he clamps down on it in a firm grip as the man sits down in the outside seat. 

He watches as the man pulls out a phone- cheap and likely disposable- and opens up a chat. He shoots off two messages and then pockets the device. The doors up front offer no other passengers and close with a quiet squeak. 

“Percy, can we get a cat?” Margot asks, oblivious to his tension. She peers out the window as the bus begins to move, pulling out onto the road.

“I dunno, our apartment’s kind of small,” Percy says absently, still watching the big guy. He doesn’t give off monster vibes, and he’s the perfect amount of casual to remain normal, but Percy has a feeling about him. 

“We should move then. So I can have a red blanket on my bed instead of blue. And a cat. Wait, can I have a racecar bed?” Margot turns to look at him and frowns, suddenly taking notice of his sharp expression, the stillness of his body, and Riptide’s cap catching the light and glinting faintly. She leans in close.

“What’s wrong? Is there a monster?” She whispers it loudly. Percy glances at her. It’s a quick flick of his pupils, but she immediately adopts his posture, gripping tightly to the elbow of his hoodie sleeve. He can’t- he wants to look at her and reassure her, and he wants to offer his hand, but he can’t look away from the big guy, waiting for him to move. 

Big Guy shifts in his seat and Percy nudges Margot closer to the window and further behind the seat in front of them. He edges closer to the end of their seat, leaning forward slightly and watching unblinkingly as Big Guy clears his throat. The shape of his shoulders is familiar in its mass- this guy is probably as big as Helmet, and that guy’s a tank. 

Wait. 

Percy sees Big Guy’s fingers tap along his kneecap. Cargo pants, baggy hoodie loose around the waist but tight around the shoulders and chest, worn in combat boots that definitely have steel toes. Hood up. Percy narrows his eyes further. 

“Why red, Margot?” He asks at a volume Big Guy’s sure to hear. “You like Helmet better than me?” 

“No!” Margot insists, relaxing a little. “It’s for Lightning McQueen!” 

Percy only half hears her as he watches Big Guy go still at his words. 

This guy. Percy rolls his eyes and starts twirling Riptide again, leaning back into his seat and bumping Margot playfully. He’s pretty sure Helmet didn’t plan to see him here, so he feels a little more confident in giving her most of his attention.

“Good,” Percy says, ruffling her hair. She hisses at him, patting it down. Then, he pauses. 

“You like Lightning McQueen more than me?” He asks indignantly, and Margot bursts into giggles, kicking her little legs back and forth. He resists a smile, trying not to look extremely fond and likely failing miserably. 

“Nooooo,” She says, like a liar. Percy pokes her side and she dissolves into laughter again. 

“I feed you, I water you, I give you clothes,” Percy lists.

“I’m not a plant! You can’t water me!” Margot cries, a little too loud for inside a bus, but Percy only grins. 

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re a sprout of some kind. How else could you be so little?” Percy raises his eyebrows at her, as if another explanation isn’t feasible. 

“I’m not little!” Margot insists. “You’re just a giant! You’re as tall as a building!” 

“Better be careful I don’t squish you then,” He says, squishing her cheeks like she did to him earlier in the morning. “If you were in Cars, you’d be Doc, because you’re the boss.”

“You’d be the firetruck,” She tells him. He frowns down at her, and she giggles. “Just kidding.”

“Helmet would be Mater,” Percy says loudly, feeling smug because he knows the guy’s irritated by the tapping of his foot. Margot giggles again. 

“Isn’t that the tow truck?” She asks, climbing into his lap. He looks down at her again.

“Have you seen the movie?” He asks incredulously, already knowing the answer. She sighs and looks up at him.

“How would I watch that movie, Percy?” She asks him with a tone strikingly similar to Annabeth’s when Percy said something really dumb. 

“Good point,” He admits. “Well, we’ll watch it soon.” She nods and tells him everything she already knows about the movie, which is not much, but her delivery of such limited information is impressively spread over the entire half hour bus ride to the thrift store. Percy takes her hand as she follows him down the aisle to get off. As he passes Helmet, he glances down.

A white shock of hair peeks out from under the hood. Percy resists the urge to be a smartass. This fucking guy . As they exit the bus, he sees Helmet standing up, and he sighs. He allows Helmet space to follow them right up until they get to the entrance of the thrift store and then he stops, turning around.

“Dude,” Percy says to the empty sidewalk. Margot looks up at him confusedly, then looks around. “You’re not subtle.”

There’s a pause, and then Helmet materializes in front of Percy astoundingly abruptly, for such a big guy. He pulls his hood down and sighs. Margot gasps, looking up at Percy.

“How did you know he was there?” She demands, tugging his hand.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Helmet agrees, also looking at Percy intensely. 

“Hate to break it to you pal, but you’re fuc- freaking huge,” Percy says, unimpressed. Helmet frowns at him.

“Never made a difference before,” He says, still studying him. 

“Look, man. We’re kind of busy, so I’ll catch you later or something.” He pulls on Margot’s hand and leads them into the thrift store, slightly peeved that Helmet follows them in. He exhales, trying to sound calm when he looks at him. 

“Helmet,” Percy says, and is proud when it comes out only slightly bitchy. “What the hell do you want?” Helmet holds up his hands in surrender.

“Just shopping,” He claims, and then seems to think for a moment, visibly debating on his next words. Percy takes the time to really look at his face without the mask. 

He’s young. Percy knew that, obviously, but his eyes are big and hurt and his eyebrows tattle on his thoughts. Huge and baby blue, though there’s a faint ring of vibrant green right around his pupil.

“My name’s Jason,” Helmet says finally, inclining his head towards the men’s clothing section. Percy lets Margot tug him by hand after Jason, fighting the very real impulse to completely ignore him and direct Margot to a different section. 

“Cool,” Percy says flatly. 

“I like your name,” Margot says, shooting Percy a reprimanding look. He scowls at her but she ignores him. 

“Thanks, Margot. I like your name, too,” Jason says, grinning down at her. He looks up at Percy. “Your name’s interesting. Short for anything?”

Percy rolls his eyes again.

“No,” He says, just to watch Jason try not to call him out on the obvious lie, lest he reveal that he did his research. Percy decides to save him the trouble. “You already know my name. You probably know my Mom’s name too, and every other person I’ve appeared in a newspaper with. You’re a stalker, Jason. I have faith that you’re not as bad at it as you are at being sneaky.” 

He says that last part just to get under his skin. He knows he’s abnormally aware of his surroundings, and most people probably don’t ever pick up on his presence, based on his reactions and what he’s told Percy. Regardless, it’s funny when Jason glares at him. It’s incredibly rewarding to see his face and the humorous dance his eyebrows do when Percy pokes at him with a proverbial stick.

“I’m not a stalker, god. If you think I’m bad, you should meet my little brother.” Jason turns towards the jeans, sparing him a glance as Percy stays quiet. “Alright, fine. You got me. I really am meeting someone here to shop, though.”

“Sure. Well, have fun being a normal guy shopping and hanging out with someone and not stalking two minors minding their business,” Percy says, pulling Margot away toward the back of the store for what they came for. He can’t repress the smile spreading over his face as he hears Jason sputter behind him. Thankfully, he makes no effort to follow them. Percy starts Margot by the toys, although he tries to keep her attention away from any of the stuffed animals. He knows all about bed bugs already, so he doesn’t need them to find a home in his apartment. He’s already got one big one, he thinks, looking at Margot as she picks through the toy car selection.

Margot finds a tiny little Lightning McQueen and shows hit to him excitedly. He takes it from her to old onto and then leads her to the miscellaneous section.  

He glances over to where he last left Jason in time to see him get socked in the arm by a blonde woman Percy's age. She says something to him, and he shoves her, and then they both start looking through the rack. He turns back to Margot, who has in her arms an Etch a Sketch,  a bag of various art supplies, a notebook, and a digital camera. He picks out the last item and examines it closely. Once he's satisfied (and he's seen that it's only 10 bucks, in case it doesn't work) he reunites it with her other items. 

“I can go grab a cart if you want more,” Percy tells her. She shakes her head, grinning widely.

As they're leaving, he sees something and instantly reroutes them with a hand on Margot's shoulder. 

Sitting at the very end of the shelf is a mostly intact DS. He finds the charger right next to it and his blood starts to sing as he drags Margot over to the charging station at the back of the store. When he sees the power button light up orange after plugging it in, he looks down at Margot and mirrors her grin.

“This is gonna be awesome,” He promises, ruffling her hair and unplugging the DS. “There's a GameStop right around the corner. There's this game I think you'll like called Scribblenauts…” His mouth is still moving; he hears his voice distantly, as though someone is speaking through a tunnel. His eyes move as if magnetically drawn to the men that just walked through the door. There's suddenly a palpable silence- his mouth is closed, his jaw is locking up, Riptide is firmly in one hand and Margot's shoulder is clamped in the other. 

The group smells them. He knows they're monsters in the way that they move. A hair too fast for the Mist so that the edges of their forms are blurry every other second; although to hide as well as they are is indicative of someone being pretty good at manipulating it. Like, better than Percy. Not that he's great, but regular monsters don't measure up. 

All of this to say that though he wants this fight desperately, Margot is here, and that means his priority is getting her out of the mix without starting anything. It looks like the task will be difficult though- one of them lingers near the front of the store while the other two snake around towards him. 

“Margot,” Percy says lowly, tracking the pair's progress as they wind closer. Margot doesn't reply, but she drops all of her items onto the charging table and grabs hard onto the back of his hoodie. He circles back the way they came, further into the store and moving between shelves. He keeps his body faced towards them and always in between their line of vision and Margot. He takes a deep breath and finds the emergency exit on the opposite side of the store. 

As he makes his way, his shoulder knocks into someone. They're fairly sturdy but Percy's in mission mode, which is to say he plows right through them, knocking them into a clothing rack. He doesn't stop moving.

“Sorry,” He says gruffly, still backing up.

He looks over at the main entrance and sees that the guard is gone, which means they saw his plan, which means he's playing the most depressing game of real life Pac Man ever. The worst part is, there aren't any power-ups to make Percy giant. 

He swivels slightly, pausing in his path to quickly chart a new path, and also to get eyes on the missing guy. Percy would really like to uncap Riptide, but in Gotham the mist might make his sword look like an automatic weapon, and he really doesn't want to make the news. Again. 

“You're good,” The person- the blonde woman who was with Jason- says, apparently the one he nearly bowled over. Percy ignores her and starts forward, only to immediately backpedal when the third guy appears at the end of the two racks. Percy turns around, Margot in front of him now, but the other end of the aisle is blocked by the other two. He scans the store and locates Jason two racks away. The blonde woman is in close proximity to Percy now, looking back and forth between the ends of the aisle. 

“Margot, blonde lady, when I say go we're gonna duck under this rack and get to Jason,” Percy says, going completely still in anticipation. The blonde lady gapes at him.

“Who-”

“Go!” Percy barks, and all three of them dive under the clothing rack, scrambling across two aisles and nearly running face first into Jason's kneecaps. 

“Jesus, what the hell?” Jason exclaims, jumping back. The blonde lady just drags him along by the arm as she chases after Percy, who has picked Margot up and is working up to a dead sprint as he flees the store. The monsters have started chasing after them, and he curses in his head. 

“Change of plans, Margot!” Percy tells her, his voice rising to be heard over the slap of his shoes on the sidewalk as he bolts down the street. “Jason's gonna hang onto you, alright, Sweetheart?” 

“But Percy-” Whatever she was going to say is drowned out by Jason appearing by Percy's shoulder, and the blonde lady materializing on Jason's other side.

“What's going on?” He asks Percy, keeping up effortlessly.

“You're gonna drop Margot off at Sandy's house! I know you know where that is, stalker!” He turns sharply down an alley on his left, and pulls to a stop, handing Margot to Jason before he can protest. 

“Who are you? Who are those guys?” The blonde asks, looking back and forth between Jason, whose eyes are brighter than he remembers, and Percy.

“They're monsters!” Margot cries. Percy tugs on his hair frustratedly. 

“They're after me,” Percy says, looking at Jason and then the blonde, because he has a feeling she's going to try and get involved. “It's- I don't have time to explain this. Just get Margot safe. I'll deal with this.” He peeks around the wall to the Alley and sees the three men at the very end of the street, noses to the air. “Jason, can you give Margot your jacket? Maybe smoke a cigarette? They can smell her.” Jason, baffled, shrugs his jacket off and wraps it over Margot, whose bangs poke out of the neck hole. Percy almost smiles, endeared, before stepping out of the alleyway and crossing the street. He takes a deep breath.

“Hey!” He shouts. Several people around him glance over, but most mind their business. His yell serves its purpose though, because moments later all three of the monsters are heading straight toward him. One pulls out a walkie talkie and hisses something into it. They pick up their pace and Percy turns around, jogging toward the Harbor.

He keeps a steady pace, listening to them pursuing him.

Quicker than he can blink, something lunges out and drags him into the next alley he passes. He loses his footing and tries to dig in his heels, wrenching himself out of a clawed hand and ignoring the deep gouges in his shoulder. He snarls, and finally uncaps Riptide.

Before he gets a chance to use it, something hits his thigh and buries itself into flesh. He looks down and curses.

It's a dart- and its little vial is empty. He yanks it out of his leg and feels vindicated when one swing of Riptide slices through the clawed monster in front of him like butter, showering him with gold dust. Then he falls to his knees, Riptide clattering out of his hand. There's a hissing laugh nearby.

“I thought this was supposed to be a challenge,” The thing tells its comrade as they slink out of the dark. Percy's vision swims as he follows them with his eyes.

One kicks his foot and he snarls. It jumps back.

Percy closes his eyes and really wishes his day was going differently.

Chapter Text

Percy closes his eyes and really wishes his day was going differently.

“How long does the sedative usually take?” The second one asks with uncertainty. 

“Don't worry about it,” The first one waves his question away. “He's just more powerful than the other ones, so it'll take longer.”

“You should… Be…” Percy manages through a numbing mouth, feeling stupid. He glares up at the blurry forms of the two, wondering at how easily he was caught off guard. They both lean closer.

“What?” The first one asks.

“You should… be worried,” Percy tells him through heaving breaths, climbing unsteadily to his feet. They both back up quickly, stumbling over their feet before stopping abruptly. He fights the sedative hard, nearly blacking out as he bends to pick up Riptide before steadying himself and facing the two monsters. He manages to spin the blade in his hand. 

“This can't be possible,” The second one wails. The other three monsters from the store swing into the alley right as Percy lunges forward, bringing Riptide down in a wide arc that takes both monsters in front of him out. He turns clumsily on his feet, leaning into the wall next to him as the world sways from side to side. 

There's one gunshot, then two, but the bullets go right through their targets and hit the gravel instead. There's a crunch behind him, the sound of boots hitting the ground. 

“What the hell?” Jason- though he's wearing his helmet again- stalks forward, placing a hand on Percy's uninjured shoulder to steady him.

“Only my sword… will work,” Percy mutters, and then shoves off the wall. His momentum leads his attack as he swings Riptide up hard, cleaving one in half. He ducks under a swing and overbalances, so he sticks Riptide in front of his body like a lance and falls into the second monster. Riptide plunges into his stomach and he pops into gold confetti. Percy hits the ground and rolls, narrowly avoiding a harsh stomp, and then the monster's form shudders.

The mist thins around its humanoid body as it grows slightly taller and its limbs elongate. Its red eyes glimmer as it leers at Percy, set deeply in gray skin stretched tightly over a bulbous skull.

“Wow, you're fugly,” Percy tells it, and then musters up his strength to slice the monster's neck, carving a deep gash with minimal effort. Gold dust spills out of it slowly until it finally sinks to the ground. Only then does Percy allow his knees to buckle, and he groans frustratedly.

“Percy? Hey!” Jason's helmet floats in his vision and his hands support Percy's shoulders, careful of the claw marks. “What happened?”

“Sedative,” Percy mumbles. “Fighting it. Sleep, then attack.” 

Jason helps him to his feet and hands him his sword. Percy caps Riptide and squeezes it tightly as Jason wraps his good side's arm over his shoulder to take his weight. 

Together, they limp in the direction of Percy's apartment. To Percy, it takes both an eternity and a second to get there. One moment he's surrounded by vague people shaped blobs with a generic street background and the air is full of noise; the next, he's lying flat on a blue comforter and there's the sound of a trickling fountain. He sighs, grateful his shoes are hanging off the bed. 

Jason appears at the doorway, his helmet gone. He holds in his hands a first aid kit. Percy waves him off and painstakingly sits up.

“I'll take care of it.” He doesn't want to explain the whole ‘water heals me and so does this strange magical square of food in my first aid kid. No, you can't have any, it'll kill you’ thing. He's way too tired. He takes the kit from Jason and walks to the bathroom. 

After sitting under the shower spray for half an hour and actively feeling his liver working double time to remove the sedative. The gouges on his shoulder become angry red scratches, like Percy was attacked by a giant house cat. At least he won’t need any ambrosia.

He only remembers after he wills his skin dry and half heartedly towels off his hair that he didn’t grab clothes, and grimaces at the thought of having to explain anything to Jason. 

However, when he slips into his room with the towel tied around his waist, Jason isn’t there. Percy hears a bang in the kitchen and rolls his eyes. Who knew crime lords were such house husbands?

Percy gets into loose, comfortable clothing- a thin white muscle shirt, a pair of baggy jeans he often skates in, and one of Clarisse’s sweatshirts that’s dark red and says CREED on the front. Miraculously, despite its visual wear, the printed on image is intact. 

When he comes into the kitchen, it seems as though Jason has anxiously washed all of his dishes and is now whisking something in a bowl Percy wasn’t aware he owned. 

“What’re you making?” He asks curiously, leaning over the kitchen table to watch.

“Cookies,” Jason grunts. He sounds angry and wound up. Percy feels similarly, but the sedative is pulling his body down like he’s holding up the sky, so he sits down on the couch and closes his eyes.

“Blue food coloring over the oven,” Percy tells him. “Wake me up at dusk, or else.”

Jason says something else, but Percy’s too busy sleeping to hear him.

------

Upon Percy’s request, Jason shakes him awake right as the last rays of sunlight crest over the horizon between the gaps of buildings. Percy snatches a blue chocolate chip cookie off the counter- shockingly good, although not as good as his Mom’s- and then stalks out the door, his mind racing. He ignores whatever it is that Jason says as the door swings shut between them. 

He knows the monsters were leading him towards the corner of Pine, just like he suspected. What he doesn’t understand is the tranquilizer. Why capture him instead of kill him?

They were also weak, slow minded, and clearly low tier monsters. Percy is good, but it’s not usually that easy to wrestle out of a 6V1. It’s concerning to him that he recognizes the likelihood of a more formidable enemy, sending grunts after him to bring him back alive. It makes his heart beat just a little bit faster. It reminds him of the way Gaea’s forces always chose two of the 7- one boy, one girl- to keep alive. He doesn’t want to cause the end of the world again, so he’s feeling pretty interested in preventative measures, like slaughtering the remaining monsters and demanding a meeting with the boss. 

Percy refuses to be used as a pawn against his will again.

“Percy, hey ,” Jason is saying, still behind him. Percy doesn’t acknowledge Jason, even as he catches up. “Where are you going?”

“Finishing this now,” Percy says flatly. “Not in the mood to play hero anymore.” Not since he had his memory wiped, was planted like a spy, and abandoned in Tartarus like a broken toy. 

Riptide spins across his knuckles as he waits for the crosswalk symbol to light up with the little walking man. Jason stands next to him, shifting restlessly.

“Do you have a plan?” He asks. Percy can’t see his face, but he can clearly imagine Jason’s eyebrows being furrowed. 

“Yeah,” Percy says. “Find the boss. Kill him.” Jason’s helmet swings to face him in a clearly incredulous gesture. He’s probably sputtering. The light finally changes, and Percy crosses the street, walking with purpose. Two more blocks, he notes absently. Then, a fight. If he were thinking any clearer, or was in a less hazy, bloodthirsty, cornered animal headspace, he’d want to know the why’s , the who else and all the questions Annabeth would undoubtedly be asking. 

Presently, Percy doesn’t need answers. 

“That’s not very comprehensive,” Jason says, the voice modulator in his helmet ironing out his tone. “What’s going through your head?”

“Someone wants me alive. That’s not the usual M.O. I’m not being taken again.” He shakes his head, bizarrely thinking of the panda pillow pet he toted everywhere. “I find the goons, the goons point me to the boss, and I cut a big hole in his gut.” 

“Alright. Are you going for stealth? Do you know where their base is? Are you just walking through the front door? Percy, what’s the plan ?” 

Percy draws up short, turning to face Helmet, who stands very close.

He blinks. There’s a bronze knife in Luke’s hand, and Percy knows under the helmet, his mouth is twisted in a snarl. Percy’s breath catches as he stares at him.

“Percy,” Luke says. He reaches out to put a hand on Percy’s shoulder and Percy takes a hard step back. “What’s going on?” 

Percy squeezes his eyes shut briefly, shaking his head. He turns and keeps walking. Luke makes a frustrated noise.

“You’re smarter than this,” Luke tells him, a little imploringly. “Think about it for a second and-”

“Do the right thing?” Percy guesses quietly, his tone dark with misery and anger. “You chose wrong from the moment Kronos came to you and it took you until the last second to do the right thing . You almost killed me- almost killed her - so many times .” Even if it was Percy’s mistake that got her killed in the end. And Percy's not even deigning to mention the other deaths Luke is responsible for.  “You’re a hypocrite, Luke.”

Luke makes a strange noise from behind him and grabs his shoulder, stopping him mid step and leading him out of the path before turning him around. He reaches to pull off the helmet and Percy almost can’t look. He can’t bear to look Luke in the eyes and be reminded of how miserable he is. 

The helmet is off.

“Percy,” Jason says, frighteningly gentle. “I’m not Luke.”

Percy sucks in a deep breath, bringing a hand up to his brow. He feels the anger wash out of him, replaced by a distant sort of horror that will haunt him in the morning. 

“Yeah,” He says, exhaling. “Right. Sorry, I- I had a bad dream last night.”

“It’s fine,” Jason’s still using that soft tone he’s adopted. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight?”

“I just- Gotham is supposed to be-” Safe isn't the right word. But.

“I have to make sure it's safe,” Percy says finally. “I'm not the only one here. They're not gonna catch me, so who's next on their list?” Possibly Margot. If they know Nico's in town, it's probably him. The other vulnerable demigods probably roaming the alley. 

“You don't have to do it alone,” Jason says. Percy has half a mind to strangle him.

“Did you or did you not shoot bullets at them and hit the ground?” Percy's gut twinges and he looks around, the uneasy feeling from the thrift store crawling across his skin. They're being watched. 

“Then tell me how to take them out.” Jason crosses his arms, but he's noticed Percy's attention shifting. “What?”

“A feeling,” Percy says quietly. He wants to pull his hair and stomp and throw a huge temper tantrum that causes the sewer to flood the streets. He wants to let his frustration and exhaustion boil over and rattle the pipes all around him, letting the pressure overwhelm any containing forces. 

He has to get rid of Jason. The mortal has no means to fight the enemy, and likely can't even see the enemy.

“See if you can find anything suspicious down on Pine where you left Margot. It’ll be something your eyes might pass over at first, maybe it gives you a headache to look at dead on. Blurry or out of place normalness.” Percy looks around again. He knows they’re right on top of them. 

Jason gives him what Percy can tell is another harsh look through the helmet.

“You’re not doing something stupid, are you?” He asks as Percy starts jogging away from him down the dark street.

“Me? Never,” Percy calls over his shoulder, glancing back to ensure Jason actually left before taking a sharp left into an Alleyway. He looks around, glancing into the dumpster and under stray trash bags, but the alley is a dead end, and there’s nothing here. Percy knows that the feeling ended right here, so why-

He turns toward the side door right as it flies open, cursing himself a little and uncapping Riptide. Right- buildings don’t just create alleyways but also have space inside them. 

Seaweed Brain , He chides irritatedly to himself as he dodges an errant sword slash. These monsters are intermingled with armed men- armed men who have the right kind of weapons- and there are five of them in total. There are sure to be more within the building. He slips into battle mode.

Percy catalogues his enemies, slipping back out of reach for a broader view. Three of them are mortals- two with swords, one with a gun. He has a really bad feeling about the gun’s existence. The other two are those weird gray alien-like monsters he saw earlier. Literally . They’re the same guys he cut in half. He must’ve been really out of it if he didn’t notice the fact that their bodies didn’t disappear. He first thinks of when Thanatos was chained and monsters kept reforming, but these guys still have the wounds Percy gave them- like zombies. They’re unarmed except for those wicked claws.

“What’s with the mortals?” Percy asks casually, ducking under a swipe of said claws. 

“Lady A said you’d have difficulty fighting them,” One of the zombies hisses. 

Lady A? 

Percy stabs it through the throat, yanks out Riptide, and slashes hard enough to behead it, just to be safe. He debates stomping its corpse flat, but he can see where the edges of the body are already dusting away.

Percy backs up in time to cause the next sword slice to miss him, and he makes quick work of the other monster and one of the sword-wielding men. Lady A- whoever that is, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if Artemis went evil- was right. Switching between eviscerating the monsters and nonlethally subduing mortals with a weapon he couldn’t use on them past deflecting their swords if he tried is difficult. Then again, he’s pretty good at what he does.

“You guys know a ‘Lady A’?” Percy asks, immediately proving himself right and knocking the last sword guy out, only leaving the mortal with the gun, who slowly backs towards the door they all came from. 

“S-stay back!” The man shakily raises the gun. Percy shifts Riptide into his left hand and pulls his steel knife from under his waistband, throwing it and knocking the gun out of his hands right as it goes off. Thankfully, the shot goes wide, and Percy surges forward and slams the flat of his blade against the crown of the mortal’s skull.

“Night night,” He mutters, retrieving his knife. 

Unfortunately, his entrance into the small building isn’t exactly subtle, and three things happen at once.

First, time slows down. Percy watches as several empousai jolt into action at his appearance, scrambling in his direction. 

Then, on Percy’s next step forward, the leg of his jeans catches on a freaking tripwire . He doesn’t even have time to be highly offended at both the simplicity of the stupid trap and also at the fact that he actually triggered it, because a gun goes off nearby.

As soon as the bullet passes high through Percy’s left thigh, he knows it’s celestial bronze. He can feel the path the metal made through his muscle slowly eroding away and he curses.

The trap springs. From above Percy’s head, a net drops down glittering the same color as Riptide. Percy rolls and kicks an empousai under it right as it hits the ground. When the heavy net lands on her, it cuts into her skin like a waffle iron and she turns to dust underneath it. The other two vampires lunge at him, but he trips one into falling on Riptide and evades the other’s gnashing fangs, using her as a living shield against the bullets that are still being shot in his direction. 

The good news is, she’s a very effective shield, for about half a second. The bad news is, she gets hit by one bullet and it proves to be instantly fatal, leaving Percy completely unprotected against their firearms. 

There’s the sound of a gun cocking behind Percy and he drops, but no one shoots at his back. Instead, the two mortals at the other end of the room go down, and the building falls completely silent. Percy takes that moment to lie there, feeling annoyed about the new weapons and also just the way his life always goes in general. 

“So about you not doing something stupid,” Jason says from behind him. Percy groans as he climbs to his feet, trying not to obviously shift his weight off his left leg. The fight isn’t over yet- there’s an open stairwell leading down by where the prone mortals are. He’s unsuccessful, if the way the helmet’s eyeline drops to his legs is any indication. Luckily, Percy’s wearing dark jeans and the building is horribly lit, so the actual injury is hard to determine. 

“I don’t usually have to dodge bullets,” Percy whines, wishing he had packed ambrosia. He allows Jason to help him limp the first few steps to the stairwell before adjusting to the pain and walking on his own. He’s pretty sure this isn’t going to be nearly as simple as his original plan made it out to be, and that he’s going to have to fight more tonight and likely further on. He just hopes he can clean up house quickly and find some water for his leg, which is becoming more and more agonizing by the second. He knows he’s losing a decent amount of blood, too.

“What do you usually have to do, then?” Helmet glances back at the room as they embark down an underground tunnel before rummaging through one of the pockets on his fancy belt. Percy’s skin crawls. He knows it’s not connected whatsoever to the Labyrinth, but it doesn’t stop him from keeping Riptide uncapped. The glow of the sword helps him keep calm. 

“ Usually I only have to deal with short-range attacks or melee fights. Any projectiles are too slow to hit me,” Percy says, staring down the tunnel and moving cautiously, one hand always on the wall to his right. Jason pulls a flashlight and his heart rate slows slightly more at the perfectly operational electricity. “Don’t let anyone unarmed land a hit on you. Their weapons will go right through you, but those claws are probably an insta-kill for a mortal.” 

“A mortal?” Jason echoes. “And yeah, I noticed how those guys’ bullets hit that chick that was in front of you, unlike mine. Which brings me to my next question.” He taps Percy’s bicep with the outside of his hand, signaling to him that they’re slowing down. “Why are there only half the bodies lying around than there should be? What is it that makes these-” He takes the extended clip out of the gun he must’ve pilfered from the mortals, because the bullets gleam bronze in the light- “effective when they’re .22 caliber non-deforming rounds, and my 9mm's did jack shit?” He reattaches it to the weapon and lets it drop down to his side. “And also, I think it’s time we talk about monsters. ” 

“You can see them?” Percy asks, ignoring all of his questions.

“Uh, the aforementioned claws are kind of hard to ignore, buddy,” Jason says, satisfyingly irritated at Percy dodging his questions. Percy holds back a rude comment about Jason using words like ‘aforementioned’ out loud and blames his wildly fluctuating temper on blood loss.

“Right.” Percy reevaluates Jason’s potential usefulness in the grand scheme of monster fighting. If he has the sight for whatever reason, Percy’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Monsters dissolve into gold dust with this metal,” He holds up Riptide, “Which is why those bullets work. Most mortals don’t see their true forms because of the Mist, which is a magical force that shields mortals from the mythical world, blah blah blah. Kill on sight with prejudice. There’s no moral issue with destroying monsters.”

“Okay,” Jason says slowly. Percy continues down the tunnel and Jason stays a step behind him. “Again, define ‘mortal’ in the way that you’re using it.”

“You see, I would,” Percy says, failing to prevent one corner of his mouth from ticking up, “But you’re on a need-to-know basis. And you don’t need to know.” They come upon an industrial door at the end of an ascending staircase. The tunnel’s air, cool and humid and stale, gives way to a sharper cold air of A/C, and the steps of the stairs change from cracked asphalt to intact cement right before the door. Jason is forced to seethe in silence as Percy presses his ear up against it. 

There's vague murmuring, an occasional frighteningly loud and horribly familiar growl, and a feeling in his gut that they're about to have a bad time. He turns to look at Jason.

“I'm going to run in and distract the big one. You focus on the little ones.”

“Big one?” 

Percy crashes through the door, beelining straight into the center of what appears to be a large, half empty warehouse. Off to one side, there's a bunch of folding tables pushed together covered in papers and surrounded by towers of boxes. Both (many) mortals and (fewer) monsters have pushed out of their chairs at his arrival. 

On the other side of the room, in a cage Percy is painfully aware won't hold for long, the Chimera paces back and forth at the sight of him, snarling. Jason comes in after him and picks off two enemies near Percy, and the sound of his gun seems to set everyone in the room off. The goons go for Jason first, their fire following him as he dives for cover behind a precariously stacked tower.

Meanwhile, the Chimera rips through its bars like they're made of paper and takes off in a dead sprint for Percy, who honestly did not think this far ahead.

It's bigger than it was the last time he saw it; probably the size of a school bus. Its teeth are longer than his forearms, and when it roars, Percy’s eyeballs rattle in his skull.

“Rematch time, baby!” He shouts, and then dives out of the way of its vicious maw as it snaps at him. He knows to roll twice based on their last fight, so that its snake tail doesn't take a bite and poison him again.  

He jumps back to avoid a paw swipe and then slashes the Chimera's muzzle, leaving a long, jagged line dripping blood. 

“That's for making me look like a terrorist,” He snaps, and then pales. “Oh, shit.” The Chimera breathes fire right where he was standing less than a second ago and he’s fairly certain his arm hairs just got burned off along with his hoodie sleeve. 

Meanwhile, Jason made quick work of the men with firearms and all of the monsters, and now he’s using a long knife, the one usually strapped to his thigh, to swordfight. He’s not half bad, Percy notices, before dodging another swing of the Chimera’s tail. Unfortunately, Percy shifts onto his left leg, forgetting about the bullet wound until it makes him stumble. The Chimera doesn’t miss his mistake, and the next claw swipe catches him across the rib cage and throws him halfway across the building. He rolls twice and groans, struggling to his knees. The sidewalk beneath him is slowly becoming saturated with red.

“Percy!” Jason shouts, down to two enemies. Percy scrambles to his feet and jumps out of the way as the Chimera pounces.

“All good!” Percy calls back. He’s lying, of course; it’s not all good. His ribs are torn open on his right side, and every movement of his sword arm pulls painfully at his chest. Blood covers his skin, hot and sticky, and his hoodie is currently more like a bib with one sleeve. Everything takes on a sort of reddish tinge, like he’s back in the pit. 

Instinct takes over. Percy stops keeping track of blows. The sound of fighting behind him diminishes and Percy knows he has to finish this fast, so he feints right. When the Chimera falls for it, he ducks under its stomach, a technique that’s never failed him before, and slices it open from neck to rear. It gives one last terrible roar and collapses into dust on top of Percy.

Percy lets Riptide lie on the ground beside him, staring up at the ceiling on his back. He’s breathing heavily and his whole body hurts badly, but he can’t stay down for long. Who knows how far behind Polybotes is, or if there are any more arai around. He sits up painstakingly slowly.

Jason appears in front of him, sans helmet. His mouth is twisted in horror.

“Dude, you look like shit,” He says. Percy laughs. Relief floods him like a river as he remembers where he is and who he’s with. 

“Revenge is sweet,” Percy sighs as Jason does temporary field medicine on his injuries. “God, and here I was thinking this isn’t personal.” Because someone just happened to have the Chimera while just happening to try and take Percy alive, and it’s way too coincidental for him to ignore. He’d really like to take a look at all the paperwork on the other side of the room, but he’s not sure he wants to waste valuable energy retrieving it.

Jason tightens one of the bandages around his left arm painfully, which reminds Percy of his existence and also makes him aware of the wound on his left arm.

“Can you get the papers?” Percy says. It comes out quieter than he means it to, a little slurred. Maybe he hit his head at some point; the second half of the fight is lost to him.

“Did I miss any injuries?” Jason asks, displaying his ability to give Percy a taste of his own medicine. Percy rolls his eyes and catalogues his body. "Wait, your-"

“Left thigh,” Percy sighs, irate that he has to share this in order to not bleed out. “Through and through gunshot wounds.” The lenses of Jason’s domino mask, which were focused on his thigh, crawl slowly up to his face. He stares at Percy silently.

“You’re an idiot,” Jason tells him. He wraps a tight band over Percy’s jeans.

“Hey,” Percy says. This conversation feels familiar.

“No, seriously. We could’ve taken care of this one before you fought the fucking Chimera,” Jason reprimands, crossing the room and shuffling through the papers. 

“Hey, look at you, knowing your monsters,” Percy says approvingly, pushing to his feet and holding his breath at the resulting vertigo. When he next blinks his eyes open, Jason’s got a stack of papers under one arm and his other wrapped around Percy’s back from his left side, taking some of his weight easily. Percy slings his arm over Jason’s shoulders.

“-ly understand you with that damn accent,” Jason mutters. Percy blinks and takes a step, and then all of the lights overhead sharpen and blink off, and Percy falls into darkness.

Chapter Text

Percy wakes up on his back, lying on a blue comforter, listening to the familiar trickle of water from the fountain in the corner.

This is getting embarrassing , Percy thinks, figuring Jason probably toted him home.

From the other room, Percy can hear the vitriolic dulcet of Jason and the eerily calm voice of one Nico di Angelo. He struggles to push himself up out of bed.

“-Died before,” He hears Nico say.

“I'll ask one more time.” There's the sound of Jason unholstering his gun. “Who are you? How'd you get in here?” 

“I think Percy's mentioned you,” He hears Nico say as he makes it to the door frame. He peers down the hall, noting the closed bathroom door. From here, he's able to see half of Nico's face, which is as expressionless and freaky as usual, and his hand, which is resting on the hilt of his sword. “Don't start a fight you can't win, Hood.”

“If you're one of Percy's, then your weapon can't hurt me,” Jason says. Percy winces. 

Nico unsheathes his sword and the temperature in the apartment drops ten degrees. The silver catches the light hauntingly. It’s kind of funny for a second the image of little 5’6 Nico staring down the Ares-sized crime lord, but Percy abruptly realizes that Nico is exhausted and his temper is short, which means Jason could actually be in real danger of maiming. 

“I'm not ‘one of Percy’s.’ I kill mortals,” Nico says in that creepy flat tone of his. Despite his unchanging expression, it sounds like he's speaking through clenched teeth. “And I don't need a weapon to kill you. For the record, neither does he.” And Nico nods to Percy, who has made it to the mouth of the hallway, leaning heavily against the wall. Nico frowns at him.

“What happened to you?” He asks.

“Bad guys. Chimera.” He waves a hand at Jason, who must be feeling pretty vulnerable since Nico caught him without any sort of mask or his helmet and then declared that he knows Jason’s died before (which is news to Percy. Maybe that explains his Sight, or something) . “Where are your manners, di Angelo?” 

From behind him, the bathroom door swings open.

“Right here,” Will says, and then balks at Percy’s battered state. When he shoots Nico a disapproving look, he reluctantly sheaths his sword. “Percy, what in Hades is wrong with you?” 

“Hades?” Jason repeats, holstering his pistol reluctantly and crossing his arms. He's visibly uncomfortable and keeps his back against the wall. His helmet is on the kitchen table and he glances over at it every couple of seconds. 

“Ugh. Mortals are always mortals,” Nico says, disappointed. He yawns and rubs his eye, looking just like Margot for a moment.

“What does that mean ?”

Will helps Percy to the couch and pushes Nico down next to him. Then he turns to Jason and stares him down. He’s got a winning smile on his face.

“Who are you?” Will asks. 

“...Jason,” Jason says cautiously.

“Are you hurt?” 

“No.” Jason stares back at Will.

“Are you lying?” Will asks, a little more intently. His smile flashes with a bit more teeth.

“Help Percy first,” Nico cuts in, poking one of Percy's bandages to make him groan. “He's in a lot of pain.”

“You motherfucker,” Percy mutters darkly, glaring at Nico who rolls his eyes back. “Jason's mortal- and I've already been treated.”

“ Jason has been dipped in the Styx,” Nico says, matter-of-factly. Will shakes his head and goes into the kitchen, likely seeking a first aid kit. “He has a bunch of crazy fucked up undead energy around him. His vibes are horrific.” 

“Was there a point you were trying to make?” Percy asks, raising an eyebrow. Jason’s mouth is hanging open, unable to defend himself.

“His healing is accelerated. He can handle it for a few minutes.”

“Who the hell are you people?” Jason says, his voice tiny and horrified. Will sighs and smacks Nico gently on the back of the head. 

“I’m Will,” Will says kindly, handing Percy and Nico a square of ambrosia each before approaching Jason. “The grouchy one is Nico. We’re friends of Percy.”

“Nico’s my cousin!” Percy pipes up from the couch, splaying his legs over Nico, who is looking sleepier by the second. Nico grimaces at him but doesn’t refute the claim. 

“How’d you know I was- that I’d-”

“That you’ve died before?” Will finishes for him, offering another smile when Jason nods. “I’ll tell you, but first you have to take your top off so I can wrap those ribs.”

Jason obligingly removes his body armor and shirt. Percy winces when he sees the bruising around them, and resolutely ignores the autopsy scar splitting Jason's chest in half. He has tons of other ones, just like Percy, but the T scar is tinged slightly red and raised like it never healed correctly. 

Maybe, Percy thinks, considering the new information Nico and Will have revealed, it didn't .

“Nico and I have a very unique ability to sense life force,” Will explains as he wraps Jason up expertly. 

“Like magic stuff?” Jason asks.

“Uh, sure,” Will says. “But yeah. That's how we knew.” He finishes and turns to Percy. “You.”

Percy offers him a weak grin.

“I want you to know that I was completely unaware of the Chimera,” He says as Will rounds the couch, crossing his arms as Percy sits up. He carefully unwraps what must've been Jason's thorough bandages.

“This is good work,” Will tells Jason with approval, who frowns at him. He's probably miffed that someone younger is offering him feedback on his methods, and it makes Percy smile tiredly. Then Will turns back to Percy and his smile drops. 

“Don't think I didn't notice the poison,” Will tells him sternly. Percy scowls.

“There was no poison,” Percy denies. “I didn't get hit with a blade, the bullet was celestial bronze-” Oops. Should he have said that with Jason the stalker in the room? Although at this point maybe it’d be easier to not bring light to the many, many clues Percy has been forced to give about what’s actually going on and who he actually is. “-and the Chimera's tail didn't get a bite in this time.” 

“Percy,” Will starts in his I'm a doctor and you're not tone, which Percy would like to point out is false, because he’s pretty sure Will’s never been to college at, what, 17? “There are only trace amounts doing minor harm to you at this point, but this-” He taps the scratches on his shoulder from yesterday's fight- “Was poisoned. Probably gonna look like it does now forever, because somebody doesn't have nectar. ” He picks up the first aid kit and shakes it when he says the last part, then sighs. “Sometimes I wonder how you're still alive.”

Percy shakes his head. His vision flickers a little at the movement.

“Well, I can't believe you're so beat up,” Nico butts in. “You walked away from Ares without a scratch at 12 years old- I can only imagine how that fight would go now- and you're telling me the Chimera almost got you twice?”

“It's not fair,” Percy whines dramatically, leaning back as Will moves onto his bullet wounds. There goes yet another clue, although he’s not sure if he can still call it that if it’s basically the blatant answer. “They've never had guns before!” Nico just rolls his eyes again, kindly not mentioning the several times mortals have shot at Percy in particular. Percy flips him off. 

Their relationship over the past decade has been a fluctuating, conflicting nightmare. From meeting, to losing Bianca, to little Ghost King Nico in the Labyrinth and all his anger and hatred, to the boy who ate blue birthday cake with him on his birthday. Percy thinks back on most of his animosity with fondness- including Nico's awkward gaslighting when he lost his memory and showed up at Camp Jupiter- even though at the time he'd been angry and confused. Later, after the second war, they really talked.

“Any allergies?” Percy hears Jason ask Will and Nico. He assumes they reply, because Jason shuffles into the kitchen.

Percy's return from Tartarus was a relief as much as a new terrifying reality to face. He left with Annabeth and returned alone to a ship full of people of whom over half he had just met. He hovered around Hazel and Frank a lot those days, but with everyone taking Annabeth's loss and the change in Percy hard, he felt completely isolated despite his friend's support. 

They finally reconvened after the business with Gaea was said and done with, and Nico confessed his old longtime crush on Percy, his almost as long streak of resentment for him and for Annabeth, and finally, his regret about what happened to them. 

Percy and Nico talked for a long time that day. About Annabeth, and Tartarus, and Nico, and how insecure he felt in their friendship due to Percy never seeming to remember anyone outside of his immediate bubble on grounds of being the Gods’ Favorite. 

Now, even after a year of little to no contact, Percy feels like they're really family. 

“So when do we meet Margot?” Nico murmurs, his voice soft. Will coos at him again. When Percy blinks, catching up to the world around him, realizes the blond had wedged himself between Nico and the arm of the couch and wall. 

“Well, I work tomorrow,” Percy says, thinking uncomfortably about his thigh and ribs. “But after that we should be all set.”

Jason set on the table a huge bowl of fried rice and four forks. Percy glances over interestedly and he points his finger at him.

“Not yet,” He tells Percy in a scolding tone. “I'm finishing the meat.”

“I didn't do anything!” Percy cries indignantly. Jason just ignores him. 

“Question,” Will says. Nico twitches up at the noise, but Will runs his thumb down Nico's nose bridge and he slumps back against his chest. “Actually, several.” 

“Okay.” Percy prepares himself mentally. “Alright, I'm locked in. Shoot.”

“Why was there a Chimera in Gotham? Because didn't you say you moved here-”

“-For the anti-our world vibes? Yeah, I did.” He lowers his voice. “Someone is trying to take me alive. Traps, sedatives, everything. Then the Chimera.” He shakes his head, and immediately regrets it when a headache pounds at his skull. He lies back against the arm rest, closing his eyes. “Something fishy is going on.”

Will groans at the joke, and Percy cracks a smile. He glances over at Jason's back.

“Tell me more about that later. Onto the second question, then.” Will gives Percy his most intimidating stare while Nico is snuffling on his chest. “What makes you think you're going to work tomorrow?” 

It's Percy's turn to groan as Jason deposits a plate of what looks like breaded chicken next to the rice on the table. 

“Something I'd also like to know,” Jason says, putting the food on a plate and handing it to Percy, whose body perks up at the smell. He gestures to Nico and raises an eyebrow at Will. 

“This is probably something Nico needs to hear,” Percy says, grimacing. 

“He needs to eat anyway,” Will sighs, shifting upright and forcing Nico to sit up next to him. The dark haired boy frog blinks awake and frowns.

“Why,” He says in an evil tone. Percy and Jason shiver. Will just tucks his hair behind his ear. 

“Food and information. Mission debrief,” Will tells him lovingly, ignoring Nico's grumbling as he takes a plate from Jason. Will also gets a plate for himself, and then Jason grabs his own and settles onto the floor in front of the couch with his legs crossed.

All three of them turn to Percy, who's half in a fugue state and mechanically shoving forkfuls of rice in his mouth. He blinks at the attention.

“Huh?” He says through a mouthful of food.

“Dude, ew.” Jason scowls at him.

“We were talking about how you're not going to work tomorrow,” Will reminds him. Percy finishes chewing and clears his throat. 

“On the contrary,” He says, and nothing else. 

“New vocab?” Will asks condescendingly after pausing to wait for Percy to offer more information. 

“Screw you.” Percy kicks out at him and gasps as he uses his left leg. Will sticks his tongue out at him and Jason clears his throat before Percy can retaliate. He huffs, shooting him a devious side eye, before explaining.

“I think the people that keep hiring me at work are in cahoots with this bad guy. No proof but I have a feeling.” He takes another bite and finishes chewing before continuing. “By the way, one of them is called Lady A .” Will and Nico exchange confused looks, which Jason watches with a different source of puzzlement. 

“But she wouldn’t-”

“I know,” Percy cuts Will off. “That’s why I’m feeling especially interested in figuring it out.”

Will frowns at him, setting his jaw. Before he says whatever is putting that expression on his face, Nico breaks his silence.

“You need backup then,” He says, and then leans back against Will. Will looks pleasantly surprised at Nico’s words.

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” He says, pleased. He starts petting Nico’s hair like a cat. Percy watches with some fascination as the child of Hades melts and visibly checks out of the conversation. Will casually stacks his empty plate under his own and does the same with Jason’s.

“Sorry, but no.” Percy finishes his own food and takes the dishes to the sink. He dumps them in and limps back to the couch, easing down. “You guys don’t have an excuse to be there.”

He gives a wry half smile, unable to help himself.

“Also,” He says, “I’m Percy fucking Jackson.” 

Jason barks out a laugh, but Will just scoffs, leaning back.

“I hate that you can say that and it makes sense,” He grumbles, trying to cross his arms over Nico’s body. He either doesn’t notice or ignores Jason’s shocked eyebrows. “If Nico was awake, he’d give us several examples why you of all people need backup. I want you to think very hard about those moments that I know exist.”

“Two words,” Percy says smugly. “Ares. Twelve.”

“ Three words,” Will counters. “Mount St. Helens.” 

Percy crosses his arms and glowers at him, staying silent. Will offers him a grin and Jason just watches them with a lot of confusion.

“I don’t know what any of that means,” He says. “But I agree that you need backup. And I happen to have someone who will already be at the exhibit- assuming that’s what you’re talking about- tomorrow. I’ll just have him listen in.”

“I don’t know,” Will says, unsure. “As much as I love another body, I’m not positive a mortal getting in the way would help anyone.”

“I don’t need backup,” Percy insists. Will and Jason ignore him. 

“First of all, most of the people there, including the security, will be ‘mortals’. My guy has… let’s just say social power, over stuff like that.” Percy narrows his eyes. Social power is Minotaur shit and he already doesn’t like Jason’s guy. “Second of all, you probably won’t even see him. As long as nothing goes wrong, it’ll be fine. He’s pretty open-minded too, so the whole monster thing will go over fine if it comes up.” Jason taps his forehead and then leans back on his hands. Will seems to be honestly considering his proposition.

“Guys. It’s literally just me looking for papers and stuff. I’m not fighting , so I don’t need backup .”

“I can live with that,” Will says to Jason. Jason nods, and they shake on it. Percy continues to glower. “This guy has a bad habit of destroying landmarks. There are none of those anywhere in Gotham, right?” He pauses, then snorts. “What a joke. This is New Jersey .” 

Jason glares at him as he gets to his feet, gathering his helmet and shrugging on his jacket. 

“No Jersey slander,” He commands-in his comically thick Jersey accent-from the door. Before he vanishes, he calls over, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t leave the apartment.” 

Will stares at the door for a moment after it closes before turning to Percy.

“He seems nice,” He observes, still petting Nico absentmindedly. “I feel like I just met the Loch Ness Monster or something. When did you become friends with a crime lord?”

“Call it what you will,” Percy mutters. “Friendship, victim and stalker… A little while ago, I guess. He’s cool. He has the Sight.”

“So then why are we being hush-hush about all the-” Will points up and moves his finger in a circle.

Percy waves him away.

“Jason’s the kind of guy who can’t help but jump into the frying pan,” Percy says. Even if he didn’t have today’s events to back him up, the moment he’d met Jason he’d known the guy was all about action. There’s no such thing as an idle threat, Percy muses, when you’re the size of a Laistrygonian and have matching anger issues to boot. 

“Seems like you could use some people in your corner,” Will ventures, nudging Percy. “Especially with the kid.”

“Yeah,” Percy admits. “He has been pretty helpful with Margot. He’s looking into getting her into school for me.” 

Will nods and the conversation tapers off into silence. Percy lets it sit for a moment as he thinks.

All of the action swallowing the day gave him a needed reprieve from his nightmare, but back in the familiarity of the room he had it, it comes washing back slowly. It’s a routine, pouring over every memory he’s ever had to prove to Luke that there wasn’t much difference he could’ve made to change what his life has become and the unchangeability of what happened to Annabeth in the end. 

At least I did the right thing. 

Percy couldn’t’ve killed Tartarus, and there was no way to truly anticipate and prepare for his attack, he tells himself. Percy didn’t choose to be born and he saved Nico from being the kid in the Great Prophecy. Him killing Titans was something he had to do. Him killing Polybotes and other giants and contributing to Gaea’s downfall was something he had to do. He doesn’t feel regret for not being the one to plunge the knife into Luke’s weak spot. 

He chose  to infiltrate the Princess Andromeda and got Beckendorf killed. He chose to collapse the Williamsburg bridge, ending Michael Yew’s life.  He chose  to give the knife to Luke. He chose  to fall into Tartarus with Annabeth.

He chose not to choke out Akhlys with her own rivers of poison. And he chose to leave Bob and Damasen behind along with Annabeth’s corpse.

Percy feels, up until the choices he made in the Pit, that he didn’t go too wrong in the grand scheme of things. He wonders if not falling in with her would’ve made a difference, if she’d still be alive. Percy wonders what would’ve happened if he wasn’t paralyzed with shock watching the life leave her eyes. He wonders if he could’ve tried to take on Tartarus. 

Percy has tried not to think about it, since that summer, but for his whole half blood career everyone has been telling him how powerful he is. The fear embedded in his enemies that he didn’t carve in with his own sword. The initial hesitancy everyone seems to have in a fight against him before they plunge in. Percy doesn’t really do losses . He wonders what would’ve happened if he tried to take Gaea on herself, if he told Leo to drag her into the ocean instead of up into the sky. Percy wonders if he could’ve drowned Gaea once and for all and ended her reign permanently. 

He wonders if he could’ve done the same thing to Tartarus. His heart was right in the ground under Percy’s feet. Gods don’t need oxygen but their body still keeps them alive, and if Percy managed to stop his heart-

These are the kind of thoughts that haunt him after bad nightmares or too long spent awake. Thoughts about his own strength, his own power, his own ability to end others. He thinks about the amount of water in a human body and then abruptly stops thinking.

Annabeth, he cries desperately in his head. What’s wrong with me ? Because these thoughts are what led him to nearly killing Akhlys. He remembers how scared Annabeth looked as the shattered glass in his chest gouged permanent scars into his ribs, a reminder of what he could’ve done. The choice he could've made- would’ve , if Annabeth hadn’t been there. Because dissolving monsters and killing things is all fine and well until they’re mortals, or gods, or non-evil sentient beings, and Percy hates the ease that the act of killing has become for him. 

It makes him ill.

He gets to his feet and searches through the apartment until he finds another blanket to join the one thrown over the couch.

“You guys should take the bed,” Percy says quietly to Will, who was dozing off before he spoke. Will gives him a dirty look.

“You’ve been torn to ribbons, Percy,” He says. “And Nico won’t want to move anyway. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” So Percy brings out two of his many pillows and gives them to Will, then returns to his bedroom and slips under the comforter. 

“Counting on you tonight, Hypnos,” Percy tells the dark. Then he closes his eyes.

—-------------

July 16th, the Bowery, Gotham City. 02:30

Tim takes a deep breath, casting his laptop aside and getting to his feet for a full body stretch. Frustration eats away at his psyche, prompting him to take a lap around the room. Jason isn’t back from wherever he’s been since dusk; he had said something about a case, the case, the Jackson case, and then vanished. Without telling Tim what the hell is happening with the case . He won't even give Tim access to his bugs.

To say he’s irritated at being shorted information is putting it lightly. As soon as Jason shows up, he’s going to make him regret not killing Tim both times he almost did. He flops back onto the couch with a huff.

He’s still at Jason’s favorite safehouse, for multiple reasons. A, Jason has been favoring this particular apartment for about a month, which Tim suspects has something to do with its close proximity to where Percy Jackson lives (and yes, Tim knows where that is. He’s not an amateur). B, because Jason bought out the whole building and so Tim doesn’t have to deal with noisy neighbors or bothersome siblings (past Jason, but he’s excluding Jason just this once due to his involvement and necessity with this particular case). Not that the Nest or the Manor have any neighbors close by, but it's the principle of the thing. 

And, in all honesty, C, because Tim likes feeling cared for. Jason provides a type of love he can’t get without driving all the way to Blüdhaven. Not that he’d ever admit that one. 

The window against the far wall behind the couch clicks with the familiar sound of disabled security measures, and Jason shoves it up with an exhaustion both too telling and not nearly telling enough for the case. 

“So?” Tim demands as Jason resets security before rounding the couch and sinking onto it much slower than usual. Upon further examination, Tim can see the way he’s favoring his ribs. He shoots a sour expression at Jason to ensure the older man knows Tim’s onto him. 

“So,” Jason echoes tiredly, throwing his helmet behind the couch and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. The domino mask usually under his helmet is missing.

“The case,” Tim urges impatiently.

“Jesus, Timbo, I just got home,” Jason mutters, rubbing his eyes. “Gimme, like, 15.”

“What happened to your ribs?” Tim asks instead, hoping that through Jason explaining his injury, he’ll divulge at least something about what happened earlier.

“Got caught in the middle of two sword guys,” Jason says. He raises his head and looks right at Tim. “You gonna die of information starvation if I take a nap?” His voice is full of resolve, like he’s already made peace with Tim’s answer.

“Yes,” Tim chirps, pulling his laptop back onto his lap and looking at Jason expectedly. He can't help but need to know something more concrete about this weird, admittedly attractive, likely teenage criminal. The lack of real information that he has on this case is driving him crazy.

Jason sighs. 

“Well,” He says. He pulls out his phone and opens up the Notes app. Tim can see a bullet point list with lots of random question marks and words written in all caps. “First of all, we already know this, but again, there’s Greek mythology motifs written all over this case.”

“Like the weapons,” Tim says.

“Exactly. Percy’s wrapped up in it. Some… people… tried to take him today. He’s famous in whatever circles he’s in.” Jason seems to deliberate on expanding on it before visibly deciding, fuck it . “Some of his enemies aren’t human- he just calls them monsters. They made him fight the fucking Chimera . And he won .” Tim glances over at Jason’s slightly awed expression and assumes the Chimera is probably just as big and scary as the myths say. 

“All of his enemies use swords or weapons made of something called Celestial Bronze?” He’s pounding away at his keyboard as Jason unholsters his stolen gun and removes the clip, showing him the bronze bullets. “Normal weapons don’t have any effect on the monsters… Uh, he has a weird tattoo on his arm… Oh, I’m almost sure he’s meta- his reaction speed is crazy and he can sense when monsters are around. Although he calls everyone mortals like he’s not.” Tim sees Jason look down at his lap from the corner of his eye. “He has a cousin who could sense that I’d died before.”

Tim stops and gives Jason his full attention. His death is always a touchy subject, for obvious reasons. Brought up within the family is bad enough- Tim can’t imagine how he reacted to a stranger poking at his soft spot. 

“Like in a magic way?” Tim asks cautiously.

“I don’t think so.” Jason grimaces, rubbing one hand with the other absentmindedly after depositing his phone on the coffee table. Tim scoops it up to read himself as Jason continues. “That’s what I’d thought too, but they were kind of sketchy about it when I asked.”

Tim scrolls through Jason’s messy bulleted list. More useless things like ‘lots of dead friends?’ and ‘shit at taking care of himself’ are intermixed with actually important case notes like ‘ always has pen (SWORD???) ’ and ‘SPQR tattoo/brand??' - isn't that Roman? Tim would know, he had a huge phase over the Roman Empire when he was a kid. And- ‘ skilled -’ underlined three times- ‘at sword fighting. possibly hand to hand??????? ’ and ‘Kronos?’ Tim looks up at Jason, unimpressed.

“You’re terrible at taking notes,” He tells him. 

“Whatever.” Jason rolls his eyes and snatches his phone back. He shoots off a text, probably to Dick, probably about Percy Jackson. “Tomorrow is your lucky day. You’re going to that exhibit, right?”

“Yes,” Tim says suspiciously.

“Percy is too. He thinks whoever tried to capture him tonight is involved with whoever’s smuggling weapons. I told him you’d be back up if he needs it.”

“Well,” Tim says, the beginnings of a theory brewing in his head. He ignores the back up part. “They’re not just smuggling weapons.”

Jason sits up and turns to Tim slowly. It’s disconcertingly threatening, even though Tim knows Jason’s far past stabbing him anymore. Maybe he should’ve asked about backing Jackson up instead.

“What else are they smuggling?” Jason growls, tenser than he’s been all night. Tim puts his hands up in surrender. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet, mostly,” He says quickly. “I’m wondering if Crane’s involved, though. There’s evidence of transporting a volatile substance in their logs, the same way Fear Gas is usually tagged.” Jason nods, relaxing back against the couch again. Tim decides not to mention that they’ve had weird gaps in shipments, places where funds aren’t adding up and supply isn’t written neatly down like everything else is. It points towards trafficking something more sinister; of course, Fear Gas in any capacity is sinister too, but not in the way that distributing living beings is. 

Tim thinks about Percy Jackson and then the smuggling case, and he thinks about how all of Jackson’s enemies know him by name, and he thinks about the shifty way the security guard acted about that knife at the exhibit almost two weeks ago. He thinks about Jackson calling everyone ‘mortals’ and he thinks about how the ‘enemies’ also weren’t human.

Jason said Jackson’s enemies were trying to ‘take him’. He implied that the Chimera- and again, Tim is having a hard time conceptualizing that - was meant for Jackson specifically. 

Percy Jackson is undoubtedly involved in the smuggling operation, Tim’s sure. He just hasn’t figured out how yet. 

But come tomorrow, Tim will .

Chapter Text

July 16th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T.

Percy stares up at the ceiling. The sun hasn’t risen quite yet, but the sky outside his window is steadily lightening. He’s been awake for who knows how long, waiting to hear movement from the living room. 

Last night’s dreams weren’t as bad as usual- just a lot of unrealistic catastrophizing (his Mom mentioned his new skill right before he left for Gotham, when she said he had picked up Annabeth’s bad habits) about what’s going to happen at work today. They were bad enough to completely ruin the idea of going back to sleep though, so Percy’s pretty sure he only got a couple hours. Not that it’s uncommon for him to go into the thick of it sleep deprived- he’s practically got a corner in the market for that alone. He just maybe would’ve liked for it to be different this time. And every other time. He sighs.

There’s a knock on his door. 

“Percy?” Nico cracks it open before seeing he’s awake and creeping in. He sits at the edge of the bed and looks around, his eyes landing on the fountain in the corner.

“Hey, Nico,” Percy says. His voice is rough, like he swallowed glass. “Will up?”

“No, he’s still asleep,” Nico says quietly. “I like your room.”

“Thanks.” Percy studies him. He almost asks what’s up with Nico, what brought him in, but the pre-dawn silence sits like a blanket of snow over the room, creating a calm and safe atmosphere he’s loath to disturb. Nico, like a cat in a new environment, slowly relaxes further, lying back on the comforter. 

“Is it worth it?” Nico asks suddenly, no louder than a whisper. 

“What?”

“Living here. Retiring,” Nico clarifies, lying on his side to face Percy. “Besides the stuff going on right now.” Percy sighs again, looking back up at the white plaster above his head. 

“Maybe,” Percy says finally. “I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like the right thing to do.” Luke whispers angrily in the back of his mind. He ignores it. “Sometimes it feels like I abandoned everyone because I was too weak to handle it.” It’s something he’s been trying fervently to ignore, the feeling that he’s betraying the people who trust him to keep them safe, to lead them to victory. Like he couldn’t handle the impact of Annabeth’s death and ran away like a coward. 

Although, he thinks, that’s sort of exactly what he did. 

“No one else feels that way but you,” Nico tells him firmly, not in an assuring tone but in a way that means Nico thinks it’s a fact. Maybe Nico doesn’t think that, or Will, and Percy decides that’s enough for him.

“Hopefully,” Percy says, his own form of acquiescence. Somewhere in the back of his consciousness, he hears waves rhythmically lapping at sand. The fountain trickles from the corner, its gurgling a familiar steady song.

The door swings open wildly as Will stumbles in. He lands flat on top of Nico, who lets out a noise like a deflating balloon. 

“Hmmph,” Nico groans into the comforter. Will rolls off him, settling in between Nico and Percy.

“Why are you guys up so early?” Will asks groggily. As the morning person out of the three of them, it’s probably surreal to make eye contact with the cousins. 

“Bad dreams,” Nico and Percy say at the same time. Will hums, splaying his arms out across the bed and subsequently over top of them.

“Damn,” Will says. “That’s tough. Couldn’t be me though, I slept like a baby.” Percy’s eyes are closed when he hears Will grunt, which likely means Nico punched him in the stomach. He feels no sympathy. 

“I’m not even up yet,” Percy says, rolling to bury his face against his pillow into a vast expanse of green-blue fading into the sky, far out on the horizon. “You guys just came in here.”

“You made us sleep on the couch,” Will points out, lying through his teeth. Percy kicks out at him and is rewarded by another grunt. “ Hey! ” 

Percy snickers. 

“Will, make us breakfast,” Nico pleads, wiggling closer to him. 

“First of all, this is not my house. Second of all, I'm not a house husband.”

“You have my permission,” Percy mumbles into his pillow-sleep-sand-ocean. “Now get out. I want quiet.” 

“Only after Will makes breakfast,” Nico says, patting Will on the shoulder and settling more comfortably into the bed. Will sighs, sitting up.

“I hate you,” He informs Nico as he leaves the room. 

“Thank you, house husband,” Nico says at a normal volume, but he knows Will heard him because a second later he appears, shoots a hair tie at Nico, and then vanishes again, presumably to the kitchen. 

For an insurmountable amount of time, Nico and Percy sit in the quiet of the bedroom. Percy drifts far, far away from his body. He leaves his aching ribs and throbbing leg behind. For a while, he's on the beach, in the sand. It's overcast, but not cold at all. 

Nico's there, maybe. It's hard to tell- all Percy has to do is turn his head to see, but the effort seems monumental. Barring that, he's so comfortable so far away, and his body looks peaceful buried under the dark blue comforter. He can barely see the white strands of hair poking out from the dark mop in view over the edge of the blanket. 

“Percy?”

Percy hums. He was wrong- he isn't on the sand. He's in the sea, gently buffeted by the current underwater. He's weightless, thoughtless, painless. 

He's been here before. Mostly with Annabeth, when he'd be overwhelmed and exhausted and something crazy had just happened, like when he walked away from Zues's wrath after returning the bolt, his first time on Olympus. After the battle with Atlas, and holding up the sky. When he came home after being offered immortality . Always after the battle, after seeing something horrifying and usually being in pain.

The ocean had occupied a lot of his mind when Hera had robbed him of his memories. Just the empty space, just when he went looking for it, because he was all instinct no-time-for-thought in those days, but he, Hazel, and Frank had strangely consistent pockets of downtime on their quest. After that, on Leo's ship, Percy had a near-constant high of anxiety that only spiked higher and higher until, upon falling into the Pit with Annabeth, it had reached an orchestral buzz of terror permanently blaring in the back of his mind. The ocean had dried up in the decrepit heat of Hell.

Then, Annabeth.

After she died, there was something like a tsunami. He kind of lost consciousness, so deep in the ocean-Pit he could hardly see the world around him at the surface. It began to force itself upon him. On the elevator ride up from Tartarus. The first 6 months of his senior year. Now it comes and goes.

It's not a good place, this strange ocean in his mind. Not when he needs to focus, to watch for danger, to pass his classes. It means bad things.

But here, where the blue comforter is just 2 or so miles up on the beach waiting for him and far away, the Big House looms, he's safe. With Nico, he's safe.

Something ice cold against the back of his arm thrown over his pillow jolts him back and in a second he's blinking at Nico, his head craned awkwardly. 

“-Okay?” He asks, his voice sounding like it's a great distance away. Percy hums again, lying back down. The water is warm.

He hears Will come in with food, and Percy can tell by the smell that it's bacon. Percy genuinely had not checked the freezer yet, but the revelation that it exists is something interesting to look into at a later time. 

He blinks, sitting up on the bed and cringing as Will turns on the hallway light to help them see their food. 

Nico is watching him as he chews on his piece of toast. Will hands Percy his own plate of toast, bacon, and a Cutie, then sits down and begins eating.

“You excited to go investigate today?” Will prompts through a half chewed mouthful of orange. Nico makes a face at him as Percy grunts around a mouthful of crust.

“Oh boy am I,” Percy mutters darkly into his piece of toast. 

“So excited your brain turned off for a minute or ten?” Nico asks innocently. Will glances over at him before turning to Percy, who shoots Nico a vicious glare over the strip of charred bacon he’s moved on to. He bites loudly into it with prejudice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Percy says with his mouth full. “Guy can't be sleepy?”

“Be serious, Percy.” Nico is frowning at him now, and Percy puts his bacon down with a scowl.

“Fine,” He says. “Yeah, okay. It happens after I’m…” Terrified? Hurt? Traumatized? “Really stressed out and I’m out of it. Especially after, uh, last year. Now it’s really only when I’m, like, way overwhelmed. I can usually control it.” Sort of. With the way Will is looking at him, he’s pretty sure his unspoken words were as good as heard. 

“What stressed you out this time?” Will asks curiously. When Percy turns to face him, he adds, “I’ve seen you after monster battles. It doesn’t usually go like this.” 

He’s right. Mostly, the ocean only calls when he’s thinking like crazy or unable to think at all, in moments of genuine crisis, when he’s small in the face of the terrors in front of him. Like Annabeth almost dying after saving his life on the bridge, Luke’s… everything, Annabeth actually dying, the existence of the Pit that haunts his every moment, conscious or not, and being effectively temporarily removed from his life and placed in a terrifying episode of Survivor: Amnesiac Demigod Edition. 

The other times, like this morning, are a little more embarrassing for Percy to admit for some reason. He can feel the tips of ears turn pink as he examines the Cutie on his plate, unsure if he can even say it out loud. 

“Uh,” He starts, slowly digging his thumb under the Cutie’s skin and feeling not unlike an orange getting peeled himself. “Well… I guess I’ve been lowkey pretty stressed out for a while, and so now that I’m…”

“Unable to take action?” Will suggests. Percy rips the piece of skin he’s working off the fruit and drops it on his plate, his brow furrowed. 

“Safe?” Nico guesses, and Percy stops peeling the orange, his posture defeated. He turns his face up but his eyes can’t quite meet the others’. 

“We make you feel safe?” Will asks softly, a tiny, fond smile on his face. Percy grimaces at his Cutie, which he’s returned to peeling with a vengeance. 

“Whatever,” He grumbles, feeling a little humiliated.

“Awe, Percy,” Nico teases, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. Then it drops away, and he puts an ice cold hand on Percy’s arm. “Me too. Don’t be embarrassed to feel safe. It can be hard to find. I’m glad that I can contribute to that.” Then he casually returns to his breakfast, like emotions and Nico were normal companions. 

Percy gives him a half smile and breaks apart his freed orange. He considers what Nico said to him as he pushes the ocean as far as he can in his mind. He’s being hunted down by who knows what- he can’t afford to go away for a while, even when he does feel safe, because feeling safe and being safe are two different things. And anyway, he can, in reality, only sort of control it; the ocean comes and goes as it pleases. What if he’s out in the real world and he drowns in his head and then that’s it, he gets killed in real life, or Margot gets in trouble, or something equally as bad happens? 

No, Percy’s not buying into this ‘embrace the safe’ flesh-eating horse shit Nico’s pushing onto him. He’s been really good about keeping the ocean away since moving to Gotham- mainly because he’s been too busy thinking about normal stressful stuff like work, and the Red Hood, and how to legally adopt a child without involving any form of government. Well, relatively normal stuff, in the grand scheme of his dumpster fire life. And, of course, being constantly stressed about survival is a key part of being a demigod, and really the demigod stress only spiked recently. 

Percy knows, hating even the bare thought of acknowledging it, that it was the godsdamned nightmare that started the real trouble. It was the not sleeping, then the reliving twisted versions of his worst memories, then the sudden acquisition of a 7 and a half year old child, then the demigod stress. And now Nico’s here, and so is Will, and they’ll be more eyes on Margot and right now they’re eyes on him and his back, which, even lacking the Curse of Achilles, has always been vulnerable to attacks. His old weak spot and his unguarded shoulders have people who have covered them before, and his brain is trying to latch onto that and take him on vacation so he can escape the pain in his body for a while. 

His life is a joke. 

“I hate everything,” He mutters. Will laughs and Nico just replies, “Same.”

Eventually, as the sun starts to rise and the 10AM shift (so early again! Why??) approaches, so Percy gets ready for work. His phone pings with something, but he elects to ignore it until he tosses his apartment key to Will and tells them to stay safe. 

After boarding the bus, he reads the text. It’s some kind of schedule for the exhibit- and some of it doesn’t match the one his employers gave him. His eyes narrow as he manages to decipher some of the labels on the extra events in the itinerary and he scowls down at it, desperately wishing he could fucking read . He can only make out something Jason circled with red that says BOSS MEETING (CLEAR)- 12:45PM.

He climbs out of the bus when it reaches his destination and even the sidewalk under his feet is a different color.

Percy looks up at the obnoxiously large building. It’s the kind of fancy, rentable spaces in downtown cities with a lot of windows and a weird, winding layout. The floors feel like linoleum but they look like oak wood, and there’s a bunch of display cases scattered across the room in various sizes. 

All of them, he notices as he passes, have very familiar looking Greek memorabilia.

After he clocks in and figures out where he’s supposed to be stationed, he just crowd watches for a while. He’s positioned near the doorway leading further into the administrative areas and the bathrooms, and he’s bored enough to start wandering around about an hour into his shift. He doesn’t want to go straight back to look through the Big Boss’s stuff right away, because he knows the guy might be hanging around until the big meeting later on. At least, that’s what Percy understood from the itinerary Jason sent to him. He hadn’t even known Jason had his phone number until the small device lit up with a message from him. 

He swiftly changed the contact name from Jason to Helmet. Just on the off chance Jason ever looks through his phone. He thinks it’d be funny.

He stops at a particular display case, the breakfast Will had made for him abruptly threatening to come back up. 

It’d been two years, but Silena Beauregard’s death is burned into his psyche. He’d recognize that helmet, formerly Clarisse’s, anywhere. 

“This is…” His throat closes off and he falls silent, placing a hand on the glass. It’s disgusting, horrible, and it makes his stomach churn. He can’t bring himself to look in any of the other cases as he decides he’s over waiting around.

Luckily, there’s commotion at the front door as someone important shows up, and Percy uses the distraction to slip down the hall and up some stairs before he finds what he's looking for.

The door, offensively, is not only unlocked but also wide open. He creeps inside.

The office is huge, larger than his kitchen and living room combined. On the left of the grand chestnut desk in the back center of the room is a huge set of doors leading elsewhere. Those doors are closed, and Percy tries to set aside his unease at that fact. 

He rounds the desk and looks first over the shelves behind it, frowning as he reads over books about Demeter, and statistics, about finance and a whole bunch of business stuff his eyes skim over. 

He realizes with a start that most of them are so easy to read because they're in Ancient Greek, which rings another alarm bell in his head.

Percy sifts through the papers on top of the desk, filling with dread that he can also read them perfectly clearly. He glances up at the door once before opening the desk drawer and rifling through it quickly, giving headings a cursory glance but mainly looking for any indication of who, exactly, is gathering all of his old friend's gear. And also, if his hunch is right and it's connected, who's trying to capture him. 

There's a gasp at the doorway. Percy looks up.

He meets the eyes of the celebrity with the sharp eyes, who is comically spread out to fill the entire doorway. His mouth opens and closes, and then opens again. Finally, he straightens, as if gathering his composure. 

To Percy, it looks like he went from a fighter's stance to a neutral one, like slipping into a costume. He's definitely right about the guy being smart and likely dangerous. Percy ignores the other part of his brain that logs the slant of his eyes, the slight shadow under his cheekbones, his dark lashes fanning out over skin, and the narrow cut of the suit tapering at his waist. 

“You,” The man says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Percy slowly rights himself, closing the drawer with his knee. 

“Me,” Percy agrees, unthreatened but slightly peeved at being interrupted. 

“Percy Jackson?” The man asks, but Percy knows he's not really asking.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” Percy says, quirking a brow. The man steps closer.

“I'm Tim,” Tim says. 

“Tim…” Percy drawls. “You're not supposed to be here.”

“And you are ?” Tim fires back. “I was told you were investigating, but I'm not so sure that's true. You're involved in this, aren't you?”

“Involved in what?” Percy asks. This must be Jason's contact, he realizes. He's curious about what other mortals (or, in Tim's case, mortal adjacent) think is going on.

“This whole operation.” Tim crosses his arms and squares his shoulders, but Percy only gives him half his attention. His gaze finds the other door in the office, 15 paces away, and a restless feeling stirs in his gut. “You know where the weapons are from. And you know that they're not just smuggling weapons.” 

Percy stills unnaturally quickly and turns to Tim, temporarily torn from the danger. 

“What else are they smuggling?” He asks sharply. Tim looks at him, a little startled. He scrutinizes Percy before his eyes slowly start to widen.

“You're… not involved,” Tim says, sounding confused and a little irritated. Percy wants to say something along the lines of, “Great deduction, Detective Dumbass” but he's once again drawn to the door- rather, he feels the urge to grab Tim and run far away from the door, or otherwise tear it open and start hacking with Riptide. Given the state of his ribs, the former sounds much more realistic. He rounds the side of the desk opposite of the door and gestures to Tim to follow him. When the other gets close enough, Percy pulls him behind the podium on the other side of the room, and Percy tucks himself between Tim and the wood, Riptide clenched tight in his hand. They don't have time to try and crouch before the door is swinging open. 

A man strides in, looking completely unsurprised to see them in his office. He wears a crisp blue suit that accentuates the broad line of his shoulders. His cufflinks seem to have jewels on them that catch the light often. His hair is dark and slicked back, and although his physique is young, the wrinkles on his face bely his possible age. He smiles sharply like a news reporter, all white teeth, and clasps his hands together. 

“Percy Jackson,” He says, sounding impressed and highly pleased. Percy steps out from behind the podium, uncapping Riptide. The sword shnks out crisply and from behind him, he hears Tim's stifled gasp. “Twice Savior of Olympus. Titan Slayer, Giant Slayer. Little Pawn .” The man says the last title with condescension, looking at Percy with a momentary, vague expression of pity before it melts off his face. 

“Man, I hate being a celebrity,” Percy complains, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. “Half of that's not even true. Why don't you just save us all some time and tell me who you are.”

The man's eyes sparkle with amusement as he stops at the far end of the desk, plucking a letter opener off the dark wood and drawing his fingers along it idly. 

Percy knows, without a doubt, that the man in front of him is some sort of God.

“I've heard so much about you,” The man says, his tone warm. It makes goosebumps rise on Percy's skin. “It's a pleasure to meet you firsthand.”

“You're Albert Serrado,” Tim says suddenly, from Percy's shoulder. Percy's eyebrows draw inward as he mentally bonks Tim on the head with the butt of Riptide's hilt. 

Shut up! He tries to tell Tim with his eyes. Tim does not get the message.

“You've been pulling artifacts into Gotham in an effort to draw in specific attention,” Tim states, shifting a little further out from behind Percy. Percy glares at him and then looks back at the god. “Why?”

The man regards Tim for a moment before turning back to Percy, looking almost chastising.

“You keep very different company these days, Mr. Jackson,” He says mildly. 

“A lot has changed,” Percy says tightly. He takes another step forward and slides in front of Tim again, flipping Riptide once as a self soothing tic. The man hums, leaning more casually against the desk. 

“Yes,” He agrees. “What with your vacation last year.” Percy's heart drops. 

“Heard you dropped into the pit,” The man goads. “Mighty warm in the summer. How was it?” 

“I can help you find out for yourself,” Percy snarls, his initial apprehension at feeling a godly aura after going so long without starting to wear off. He knows that this isn't the place or time to start a fight. He's missing substantial amounts of information. But it's so tempting to jump forward and show the man just what exactly had changed in Percy after his vacation.

He feels a hand cup just under his elbow and he glances to his side. Tim has taken a step closer to him, looking intently at his face. Percy doesn't really catch the message in his eyes but he takes a deep breath, the alarm across Tim's features reminding him that he needs to keep his head, and turns back to the man.

The man watches this play out, straightened from his lean. Whatever he sees on Percy's face is making him cautious. Good. Let him be nervous. Percy has half a mind to chop him into pieces and feed him to his Great Grandpa, á la Zeus Special. If looks could kill…

“I am not a monster, child,” The man says, his tone insistent. Percy can almost hear the slight shake in his voice. 

“Neither was I.” Percy stares him down, willing him to get to the point.

“Hm,” The man says. “There are those who would disagree with you. Some of which you dispatched yesterday. But I suppose, as of now, your blood still runs red.”

“You're with Lady A,” Percy confirms, pointing at him. “What do you want me for?” Tim shoots him another look, growing more alarmed by the second. 

“My associate will be very envious we spoke, Perseus,” The man muses, ignoring Percy and drawing towards the door he came from. As he steps through it, he looks directly at Percy with a twinkle in his eye and says, “She cannot wait for your reunion.” He slams the door shut. Tim pushes past Percy and rushes to it, and Percy doesn't bother to stop him. He knows even as Tim is opening the door that the man is long gone. 

His fist clenches around Riptide as he waits for his body to relax, now that the threat is gone. Instead, his heart rate ticks up. He realizes, as he catalogues his body, that he isn't breathing. He moves on to focus on Tim, who abandons the idea of searching for the man and instead returns to Percy. He peers up at him, his eyes a little wide. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. He's nervous, Percy notes. Nervous like Hazel when he told her what he'd done in Tartarus. Nervous like Annabeth when he nearly drowned Akhlys with her own poison. Nervous like he thinks Percy's coming for him next. 

Percy takes an obvious, distinct step back and, drawing the cap from his pocket, caps Riptide. He can't bring himself to put the pen down, but he hopes the gesture is enough.

“Wow,” Percy says, his voice shockingly normal for how numb his mouth feels. “What an asshole.”

Tim takes another step closer, his nerves shifting into something like determination. His face flickers with concern. Percy wonders how he flipped from the confrontation entering the room to the careful way he lays a hand on Percy's arm, maintaining eye contact under furrowed brows and heavy lashes. His dark circles have dark circles, maybe even worse than Percy's. It only serves to make his eyes more piercing. Percy can almost clearly see the thousands of questions filtering across Tim's mind, the gears churning so quickly Percy's surprised smoke isn't puffing out of his ears. 

He smiles distantly, his heart a thundering beast in his ear and his ribs and his bullet wound, which is loudly protesting his prolonged tense posture. He just can't break out of the instinct to fight, even as he slips out the door, trying to push the feeling of calm into his mind. He blinks and he's outside scanning over the street, his blood rushing loud enough to drown out everything around him. He has to get home, to make sure the man and Lady A don't get to Margot and Nico and Will. He has to get somewhere safe so he can plan his attack and maybe sit down for a second because his vision is tunneling. He loses his balance and when he opens his eyes from an extra long blink, he's in an alley, slumped against the grimy wall, one leg sprawled out in front of him and the other folded in half. His hands are crossed over his lap, one thumb fiddling with Riptide's cap because he so desperately wants to be holding his sword.

Percy gives up on going anywhere for a second. He's pretty sure Nico and Will can hold off any threats, and Jason can… try his best. Maybe Percy can get him some more of those celestial bronze bullets. They were pretty effective on him, after all. 

He blinks again, and Tim is sitting next to him, uncaring of his fancy suit chafing against the grubby brick and filthy asphalt. 

“Hey,” Tim says softly. He carefully links his pinkie finger with Percy's.

“Hey,” Percy replies, his voice too sharp. He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “Sorry.” 

“That's fine,” Tim assures him. “Is this alright? I figured that touch grounds you?” 

Percy blinks the present sharply into focus, startled. He looks at Tim, who looks down at his shoes and turns a little pink. He really shouldn’t be zoning out with someone he only recently discovered isn’t bad news, which actually could be wrong. It’s just that Jason seems to have a handle on reading people, and this kid is his back up.

“Sorry, it's just that earlier…” Tim shakes his head. “Nevermind. How are you?” 

Percy reevaluates himself. His heart has slowed down some and he's less inclined to start peeking corners like he's leading a charge in Manhattan or being hunted in the Pit. 

He shivers and raises a hand in the air, tilting it back and forth in a so-so gesture.

“Wanna get home,” He admits to Tim. “See…” He thinks of a term that correctly describes the little girl probably dropped off and waiting for him at home, about Nico and Will, and hell, maybe even Jason, before simply settling on, “Everyone.” 

Tim nods and gets to his feet. He gets a firmer grip on the hand linked with Percy's and helps him up. He's surprisingly strong. 

“Do you want a ride?” Tim asks, brushing against his shoulder so faintly Percy almost thinks he imagines it. “I have to go talk to Jason about a case. Maybe you can loop me in on a few things?” He sounds almost desperate for information. The corner of his mouth twitches as he lets Tim lead him by the pinkie down the street to a parking garage. 

“Case?” Percy asks, fighting to keep his voice steady, to stay firmly on his feet. They begin walking down the slope towards the underground section of the garage, and Percy's muscles tense further.

Tim, instead of answering that question, pulls him up to a really nice car , its paint a deep steel gray and the entire length of the sleek vehicle spotless. He ushers Percy to the passenger side door (that he opens for him- what a gentleman . Percy would roll his eyes if he weren't out at sea) and then climbs into the driver's seat. The car starts with a purr and Percy relaxes into the surprisingly comfortable luxury blood red seating as Tim pulls out into the street. 

“I have a question. You don't have to answer,” he says a little ways into the drive at a red light. Percy turns to look at his profile. His nose isn't as perfectly straight as Percy had thought- there's a tiny dent visible from this angle, as if it’s been broken at some point and reset expertly. 

“That guy freaked you out a lot,” Tim says quietly to the windshield, easing off the brake as the light changes. “Do you have any idea who he is?”

“No,” Percy says, a little bitter. “But I know he's dangerous.”

“He seemed to know you,” Tim says. It's not accusing, but Percy scowls at the dashboard anyway. “Savior of-”

“I heard him,” Percy says a touch too harshly. Then, “Sorry.”

“What did he mean by ‘titan’ and ‘giant’ slayer?” Tim asks, before blinking. “You don't have to answer that.”

“Good, because I don't know how to,” Percy says, his voice quiet like a breath, the sea breeze heavy in the air. He blinks hard. He needs to think about- the quest? The mission? Tim called it a case. 

“You said,” Percy is fighting so hard to speak normally, but his sentence comes out strangely mangled. “They're smuggling- other stuff. Besides weapons.” 

“Yes,” Tim says, and then rolls down his window and screams to the driver next to him after they nearly run them off the road, “KILL YOURSELF!”

Percy laughs, surprised, and the music on the radio fades into earshot. It's Radiohead. 

“What else?” 

“Mm. Possibly Fear Gas. Are you okay to wait and then you, Jason and I can discuss everything together? That way you and I don't have to do it twice.” 

Percy growls. Work with me, Tim, he thinks desperately.

“Okay,” He says. There has to be something else. “Nice car.”

It seems to be the right thing to say. Tim's posture changes subtly but visibly- the weird, careful, stiff and ill-fitting outfit he was wearing slips off, and someone soft, and frightening, and very fond of his car takes its place.

“It's an Aston Martin Vulcan ,” Tim says like it means anything to Percy. “Only 24 ever made. V12 engine. It can go from 0 to 60 in 2.9 seconds and its top speed is 208 MPH on paper.” He pauses and shoots Percy a conspiratorial grin. “Well, if it was stock, anyway. There's only one of my Baby.” 

Percy matches his grin and wonders distantly if Tim is a little crazy. Most of the smart people Percy has met have all been just slightly left of sane, except for Reyna. Reyna is scarily sane. 

Tim takes in Percy's address as he chokes it out and then frowns at his steering wheel.

“Well,” Tim says, drumming his fingers deftly against the black cover. “I’ll drop you there and then swing by later with Jason in a different car.” 

Percy nods. He reaches out and turns up the radio to substitute any more wrong-turning conversations. The song has changed, and on the- what looks like custom-built- radio in the dash, it’s a band called Car Seat Headrest. He’s not really sure if he likes it, but it doesn’t suck as bad as Thalia’s music, so it’s passable enough for him. Plus, It seems to soothe Tim. Percy watches as his tapping becomes more focused and rhythmic, matched up to the song, and he’s singing under his breath. Percy hates to admit to himself that it’s helping him stay grounded as much as Tim. A deeper and even worse thought floats around in his brain- that Tim is kind of cute. He scowls at the radio for the rest of the ride. 

They get to his building and Tim parks in the alley under his bedroom window. He shoots a glance at it as they walk to the entrance.

It’s open.

Chapter Text

His steps stutter as he stares at the open window, his brow furrowing. Tim stops a little way up the alley and then turns around, following Percy’s gaze.

“Hm,” Percy says, his voice calm. He uncaps Riptide and leaps , easily forgoing the ladder to pull himself up the fire escape. He jumps each level and levers himself up until he’s next to his window, and from there he eases into his room. His ribs cry and scream and he's pretty sure he just tore something open. Tim makes a startled noise from below him, but there’s the sound of movement, so Percy figures he’ll find a way up.

Which is good, because Percy’s about to flood the whole fucking city. 

It feels ominous. Everything in his room is exactly how he left it except for the bed, which is made. 

Except no one is here. 

He walks through the apartment and finds the front door hanging open , and the kitchen sink explodes right as Tim appears at the end of the hallway. 

“Nico?” Percy shouts, one hand gripping his hair and the other holding fast to Riptide. 

No one answers. Of course no one answers, because no one is here . His friends are gone, his apartment’s been broken into, and they’ve likely been taken while Percy was dicking around at work, not learning anything . He didn’t even get the god’s name, he just- freaked out and let his fear get the best of him.

The bathroom sink explodes.

Like he’s doing now.

“Oh-kay, okay,” Percy says. Tim is standing at the table. “Is it a note?” His voice is mean and dangerous and he is so afraid . A ransom note, maybe? Some sort of secret message?

“It’s signed Jason. It just says ‘call me,’” Tim says, narrowing his eyes.

Percy scrambles for his phone and flips to his contact, using his phone for the very first time ever. 

It rings three times. His heart plummets further with each ring. Tim has crossed the room and taken the phone to put it on speaker, and he hasn’t let go of it or Percy’s hand since. Maybe he noticed that Percy is spiraling wildly with all the possibilities of what happened.

“Breathe,” Tim tells him, and he takes a lungful of air right as the call connects.

“ Hello? Percy? ” It’s Jason. Percy’s knees wobble and he tries to steady himself, taking another heaving breath.

“Jason,” Percy breathes. “What happened? Where are you? Is everyone alive?” He wishes he could just send an Iris Message. The idea of seeing the aftermath of whatever occurred soothes him more than word of mouth. Anyone can say anything- Percy knows all about that. 

“ What? Yeah, we’re good. There was a, ah, minor incident involving a monster and Margot- no biggie, just means your apartment is compromised. I’ve moved you guys temporarily to a new place, with a couple different units since I own the building. Nico did… something… and said it’s protected against whatever you guys have got going on. It’s completely mortal proof.” Jason’s voice sounds normal, calm. There’s no hint of strain or pain. Percy stares down at the phone. In the very back of his head, there’s the sound of screeching violins.

“But you’re okay? Everyone’s okay?” Percy asks again. At the pause on the other end of the phone, he feels panic grip its tight claws around Percy’s throat. Tim wrestles the phone away from him and rests his free hand right below his elbow on his forearm.

“It’s just that the apartment looks broken into,” Tim clarifies to Jason. “Hi, by the way. Did you really move them to-”

“Don’t say it, dickhead, yes, whatever. Easiest solution, okay? And they must’ve shown up after we left. ” Another pause. “ Are you guys good? ”

“Um, yeah,” Tim says unconvincingly. Percy reaches for the phone and Tim allows him to tug it close. 

“Is Nico there?” He asks curtly, though his voice is quieter than he’d thought. The weird anxiousness is fighting with the information that everyone’s uninjured- or no less injured. 

“ He’s asleep. ” If Nico’s asleep Will is probably behind it, which means he can’t talk either.

“Margot?”

“ Sleeping with Nico .” Maybe Will isn’t with Nico after all.

“Will?”

“ He went out. ”

“ He went out!?” Percy cries, standing ramrod straight and bringing both hands up to pull harshly at his hair. The kitchen sink, its faucet already gone from its earlier eruption, gurgles before a jet of water shoots up and pressure-washes the ceiling for about 10 seconds straight. “You let him? ”

“ Percy, he’s the one who killed the monster that was following Margot. And also, I can’t exactly stop him. ”

Percy’s lightheaded. Tim is watching him with his sharp eyes, and he takes a deep breath and tries to pull himself together.

C’mon, Seaweed Brain . 

“We’ll be there as soon as possible,” He says, hard like barking orders to an army, to a friend, because Percy is- Percy is-

Percy needs to chill out. He keeps breathing slowly. Tim and Jason exchange more words. Tim nudges Percy into his room and tells him to pack a bag. Percy puts Riptide down on the bed, still a sword, and digs out his duffle bag. He throws in four black t-shirts, 3 pairs of baggy jeans and one pair of Carhartts that he’s ridiculously in love with, as long with all his essentials like underwear and socks and- he reaches behind his skateboard and pulls out Annabeth’s bone sword right at Tim walks in with his toothbrush in one ziplock and his assorted soap from his shower in another. They stare at each other.

“Another sword?” Tim asks lightly. “What’s it made out of?”

“Bone,” Percy says. Tim slowly approaches, tossing his spoils on top of Percy’s open bag.

To Percy’s pleasant surprise, he doesn’t seem very put off by his answer. He looks at the sword, then at Percy as he tosses in his hairbrush.

“Can you tell me more?” Tim asks. It’s something about the way he asks it- not digging for information, exactly, but eager. Percy’s pretty sure the guy wanted to strangle him for answers earlier, but now he’s… careful. Not coddling, but aware of Percy in a way people have a hard time being, sometimes. Maybe it’s because he thinks Percy’s crazy. That the way he’s freaking out is frightening. 

But then Percy sees him eye the sword, and he thinks that maybe Tim’s a big fat nerd.

“Do you know all your grandparents?” Percy asks, meeting Tim’s eyes. He squints at Percy.

“Hell of a non-sequitur,” Tim says suspiciously.

“We’ll get there, maybe. Just humor me.”

“I know every single grandparent except for my Grandmother on my mother’s side, who was an estranged foreign professor in Taiwan. Even my mother didn’t know her,” Tim says quickly, and then looks surprised at himself, like he didn’t mean to say all of that.  

“Right,” Percy says. “I’m kind of- freaking out right now so I’ll explain that to you later. Uh, bone sword. Made from drakon bone. Annabeth got it from a friend of ours when we were- after we- um, during my vacation. Ugh.” Percy sucks in a breath. 

Calm down, Seaweed Brain. Jason said they’re fine. Tim believes it and he gives off Jason’s stalker vibes , Percy chides himself. But then, Tim doesn’t know what Percy does, does he? And Percy’s about to tell him, potentially ruining his life forever. But -Tim is clearly already a fighter. They’ll come for him eventually, if they’re already in town. Maybe they’re breeding like cockroaches in the sewer or underground. 

Catastrophizing, His mother scolds him.

Percy needs to move. He picks up the sword and hands it to Tim.

“Damesan’s sword,” Percy says, his heart aching. “Annabeth’s sword. I.. guess, my sword.” Tim holds it carefully, and Percy nudges him. “Fix your grip. Do you know how to sword fight?”

“I can twirl a baton,” Tim offers, though he fixes his hand and holds the sword correctly. Percy hums. 

“How does it feel in your hand?” Percy asks, stepping away from Tim and zipping up his duffle bag so he can swing it experimentally a few times. Tim’s smile begins to grow.

“I’m not going to lie,” Tim says. “This is sick.”

“Wait until you know how to use it,” Percy says, and then decides he means it. He’s already got to teach Margot. Might as well teach another kid like them. He nudges Tim out of the way and swings his weight from the window to the fire escape.

Before the added burden of the duffle bag, Percy was doing a great job at ignoring his leg, and his ribs, the cut on his arm he’d bumped earlier that he didn’t even know existed, and his fucking ribs, Hades. He definitely aggravated the cuts or something. He grits his teeth and chooses to use the ladder to get down this time, hissing as he eases slowly down to the ground. Once there, he looks up at Tim, who has been frowning at him the whole time from his bedroom window.

“I closed and locked your front door,” He calls down to Percy. Percy, so anxious to get going at this point that he’s willing to break into Tim’s precious car and go to Jason’s new place himself, just shoots him a thumbs up.

Tim seems to catch his drift. He slinks out of the window with shocking fluidity even with the sword in one hand, leaning precariously off of the fire escape to close and lock his window behind him. Percy will thank him later. He’s also probably going to bring up the insane steeze Tim’s slide down the fire escape ladder has. 

Right now, he’s got a one track mind (Although the slide was seriously cool). As soon as Tim unlocks the car doors, Percy’s buckled in. Tim’s not far behind him, instructing him to tuck the sword under Percy’s seat. They’re probably already halfway there when Tim breaks the silence.

“Jason said you fought the Chimera last night,” He says. Percy has a feeling he’s not done, so he just glances over at him. His pen rolls across his knuckles. It almost feels like, in times like these, a caress, like reassurance. “You’re injured?”

Percy glances over at him again. He’s still looking straight ahead, but Percy knows the asshole is watching him from his peripheral vision. 

“A little,” Percy admits.

“How much is a little?” Tim asks.

“Nunya,” Percy mutters, crossing his arms and ignoring the tacky feeling of blood sticking his shirt and part of his hoodie to his skin. “I’ll see the kids and then I can go swimming. Everything will be fine and no one will die.” 

“So… true,” Tim agrees uncertainly. He takes an unprotected left and glares at the car that nearly turns right into the lane in front of them, hissing as he passes them while holding up his middle finger. Percy almost cracks a smile- his road rage is horrible. 

Due to its proximity to the border of New Gotham- Jason's building seems to sit right on the edge of the Bowery- it seems to be of decent quality. There's even a parking garage, which Tim takes advantage of. 

As soon as the car stops moving, Percy's out of it with his duffle, shoving Damesan's sword at Tim. He's moving fast and he can hear Tim behind him, but he stops at the front doors of the building, which has a buzzer system. Tim presses the one for the top floor. 

“Animal control,” Tim says nonsensically to the mic.

“ Go fuck yourself ,” Jason's tinny voice replies before the buzzer shuts off and the door swings open. Percy follows Tim inside and stops outside of the elevator.

“You coming?” Tim asks, holding the doors open.

If you like Piña Coladas, and getting caught in the rain-

“I'm bad with elevators,” Percy says, shifting back and forth on his feet. Understatement. Try, last year I rode an elevator out of Hell and the whole time demons were trying to open it so I would die eternally.

“They're on the 21st floor,” Tim says. “It'll suck taking the stairs. Especially with your leg and… ribs? Are you bleeding?” 

If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain-

“Um, a little,” Percy says, staring at the small moving metal box Tim wants him to climb inside.

Holding the doors shut, because they want to slide open and there’s screaming on the other side, the metal rattling as something pounds its fists into the doors-

“You can’t take the stairs, Percy,” Tim tells him, frowning. Percy takes one deep breath, jumps across the gap into the elevator, and spams the close door button so that he can’t change his mind.

His entire body, he realizes absently, is trembling. Tim’s pinky finds his as Percy leans against one of the doors, like he’s holding it shut. Again, Tim doesn’t ask. Percy’s stomach swoops as the elevator stops and he leaps out, waiting for Tim to lead him to the right door. 

Their pinkies stay linked as Tim knocks and Percy fidgets behind him, his brain a crescendo of noise and fear and-

The door swings open, Jason stepping aside to let them in. Before they can take a step forward, Margot tears out and crashes into Percy’s legs. He groans but reaches down to hold her next to him anyway. The relief at seeing her okay and running around drowns out the angry protesting from his bullet wounds. 

“Percy!” Margot shouts. “Pick me up?”

“Not right now, Margot,” Jason says behind her. “Percy, what the hell did you do?” Percy looks down at himself and sees a lot more blood than he originally thought. Whoops.

“Nico and Will?” He asks, waddling in around Margot, who stands on his right shoe. The restriction of movement starts to get to him and his heartbeat quickens.

Tim seems to notice. “Hey Margot,” Tim says, sticking out a hand. Margot slowly detaches from Percy and shakes it. “I’m Tim, Jason’s brother.”

Percy will revisit that revelation later. Right now, he stalks through the apartment, pain inconsequential in the face of- 

Nico and Will sit on the living room couch. When he comes in, both stand up, Will with a particularly fierce expression when he sees Percy’s condition. Before he can say anything, Percy surges forward and wraps his arms around them, dropping his duffle to the ground.

“You’re okay,” Percy breathes. The weight of his panic abruptly melts into exhaustion, leaving him dizzy and heavy. “ Fuck .” Nico and Will make to pull him to the couch, but he’s rooted to the spot. 

Margot comes teetering in, followed by Tim and Jason. Percy surveys the room, the deep seated feeling of sudden satisfaction at seeing all of his people safe in one place crashing over him like a violent wave. 

“Percy, you should really sit down so I can treat that,” Will says, reaching out to him.

“I thought it was a paperwork mission,” Nico says from very far away.

“The boss, Serrado, knew Percy,” Tim says. There’s movement. Percy is floating in the middle of the room. His ribs become fuzzy. “He called him a bunch of titles. Including ‘Little Pawn.’ It was pretty weird, freaked us out.”

“Oh Gods,” Will mutters. 

“Percy?” Nico is standing right in front of him. When did that happen? The 15 year old peers up at him, frowning. Percy hums.

“What’s happening?” Jason (?) asks. 

Nico puts a hand on Percy’s arm. 

“You’re bleeding, Seaweed Brain,” Nico says quietly. “Talk to us.”

“Ocean’d be good,” Percy suggests a little nonsensically listing forward slightly. Nico pats his back.

“Well, there’s the harbor,” Nico says. “But it looks pretty filthy.”

“What, to swim in?” Jason asks. Percy can kind of see the shape of him now. It feels like now that the coil of tension has unbound him, he’s a loose ship bobbing along in shallow water. “ Hell no. I have a pool on the roof. Not that you should swim at all right now. What’s happening? ”

Percy walks past him and through the front door, towards the opposite end of the hallway from the elevator where the stairs are.

Nico and Will follow him out, the former scooping up Margot when she runs to catch up with them. Percy isn’t sure about Tim and Jason, but he hears a conversation happening behind him.

Will comes up on his left side and helps him up the stairs. Soon, they’re pushing through the access door to the roof, and sitting embedded in the center of the cement in all its 8-foot-deep glory is a huge dark blue swimming pool. 

He falls into it and sinks like a stone to the very bottom.

He feels as his ribs quickly stop seeping blood, the pain in his leg fading into memory. 

Time slips by and Percy closes his eyes, his mind and body synchronized for the first time in what feels like months. 

Healing and safe, Percy drifts.

------------

Percy opens his eyes to a purple-gray haze settling over the surface of the pool and a hand splashing in the water far above his head, likely to get his attention. His slacks- he never took off his suit, he realizes- brush roughly against the bottom of the pool as he slowly unfolds, stretching to his full height and floating lazily to the surface.

His head crests the surface completely dry, his hair a fluffy halo against his eyes peering above water level. 

Nico is crouched next to the edge of the pool, regarding Percy with dark, unreadable eyes.

“Hi,” He says. Percy uses the water to help push out of the pool and climbs to his feet. Nico stands as well.

“Hey,” Percy says. Abruptly, it feels like all the events of the day catch up to his memory, and he grimaces. “Sorry. Embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” Nico says, not unkindly. He nudges Percy with his shoulder and Percy nudges back, lingering for a second before pulling back.

“What’s up?” Percy asks as Nico leads him over to the access door and pries it open. “Or is it bedtime?”

“Close. Dinner time.” Nico ushers him in. “How are the ribs?”

Percy sucks on his teeth as he shifts back and forth tiredly, the skin and muscle on his ribs tight but not painful. He notices Nico didn’t mention his leg, and then realizes he’s walking without a limp. 

Good, because that double sided bullet wound fucking sucked . He gives Nico a thumbs up.

They’re quiet as they descend the stairway and pass into the hallway of the top floor. Nico stops him right outside the front door to the apartment.

“Hey. Are you in a good headspace right now?” He asks seriously, and Percy feels a rush of… something unpleasant. He can’t tell whether it’s mild resentment for being coddled after Nico told him that it’s normal, or embarrassment because his younger cousin is asking him about it, or pissed because Percy isn’t a child and he knows his own limits. 

Well, sometimes. The anger fizzles out and he releases the tangle of upset with a heavy sigh. 

“Yeah,” He says finally. Nico hesitates for a moment before pushing the door open. “And I’m starving. Let me in, Ghost King.” He pushes  past Nico and runs right into Margot, catching her before she falls over. Nico follows, closing the door behind him and scowling the whole time. Will’s head pops up from the couch as Percy enters the living room. It smells like food.

“Did you just call him the Ghost King?” Will asks amusedly. “He hates that.”

“I know,” Percy says, grinning. Nico shoulder checks him, careful so as not to disturb Margot in his arms, and sits beside Will on the couch. Percy can hear Jason in the kitchen- why is he always in the kitchen?

“Why are you always in the kitchen- oh. Hey, Tim.” Percy deposits Margot on the ground next to him and leans against the kitchen island as Jason putters around at the stove. Next to his brother and sitting on the counter (much to said brother's ire) is Tim, who looks up from his phone at Percy's entrance.

“Hey, Percy,” Tim says.

“Because none of you shit-eating kids are gonna eat otherwise,” Jason grumbles, poking at a pot of green beans. Percy looks over the kitchen for the source of the good aroma and spots a crockpot on the counter farthest from Tim.

“I can cook,” Percy defends, slinking over to the crock pot, trying to be sneaky. Tim grins down at his phone, and Percy knows he's tracking his movement across the tile. He's pretty quiet about it, and up until he's two steps away from the counter, he's pretty sure he's gonna get away with it.

Then Jason turns around with crossed arms. 

“Can I help you, Jackson?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. Percy leans over the crock pot and peers inside. Jason swats him away and he scutters over to stand by Tim. “It's chili, you gluttonous beast! Get out of my kitchen. And maybe you can cook, but you don't . That would require having food in your possession.”

“I had food,” Percy retorts.

“You had a single bag of stale Fritos in your cabinets , Percy. You don't cook with chips.”

“ You don't cook with chips,” Percy mutters mutinously. Jason ignores him and goes back to his green beans. Tim hops off the counter and gestures for Percy to follow him. 

“So,” Tim says as he slips into the living room with the others, sitting next to and avoiding the wild movements from Margot, who has made a home split between Nico and Will’s laps and is kicking her feet around. It’s adorable, and he’s glad they seem to be getting along, if a little surprised. The siblings are similar in that they're wary of new things and people, so to see them so close is a little baffling. Will, on the other hand, makes sense- he's good with people, good with kids, and good with grouchy underworldlings. 

A thought that he hadn’t realized had been lingering since Nico and Will’s arrival the night before finally pulls itself forward. How long are they going to stay? And   how long can I keep them here?

Embarrassing, and Percy would never ever voice these thoughts aloud. Nonetheless, they exist, and he’s thinking them.  He has to work, and Margot needs as much help as she can get- or rather, Percy can. He’s not kidding himself- the only thing that little lapse in mental awareness was just the cherry on top of a sundae of reasons Percy is not equipped to take care of anyone or have any friends.

Well, all right. The last one is an overstep.

Percy’s all about hopping on the Percy-hate train, to a certain degree. But more than he clashes with himself, he loves his friends- so maybe Percy shouldn’t have them; doesn’t mean he’s letting them go, now. His friends are lucky he didn’t choose to accept immortality and will instead likely die young. Otherwise, he would've stuck to them like a burr for the rest of their mortal lives and likely beyond, because Percy’s automatically going to Elysium on account of the whole Savior of Olympus  𝐱2 thing, and his friends are the best people on Earth and probably the universe. Percy has a lot of good people around him. People that keep him good. If any of them choose to be reborn, he might strangle them when they return to him the second time around. 

What dark thoughts Percy is having tonight. He clears his throat and blinks into the present moment as a disembodied hand places a plate with a bowl on it in front of him. He grunts out a thanks and starts plowing through his chili. Listening to the chatter between everyone, he feels that same wave of satisfaction and relief crashing over him, less intense and more warm, like contentment. He sinks against whatever surface he’s found himself on (the floor leaning back against the couch with his legs under the coffee table, he discovers upon untensing his shoulders). He tunes into Tim and Nico’s conversation.

“-thomagic, but nothing too super crazy,” Nico is saying. 

“Cool,” Tim says. “I liked photography.”

“Of the night variety,” Jason clarifies. For some reason, it makes Tim flush pink, and so Jason continues. “And stalking. And Batman.”

“Dude, you stalked Batman?” Will asked, sounding impressed. “That’s sick.”

“No, but actually,” Nico says, sounding like a put-upon old person. “What is Batman!?” 

Jason bursts out laughing, and Tim raises his eyebrows. 

“You don’t know about Batman and you’re in Gotham?” Tim asks.

“Percy literally lives here now and he didn’t know what Batman was!” Nico cries frustratedly. 

“To be fair,” Will says, a little reproachfully, “Percy doesn’t believe the Justice League is real.”

Percy bristles.

“How’d you know that?” Percy asks, and then scowls. “Wait, don’t rope me into this conversation. I’m minding my business.”

The entire room except for Margot looks at him with an Annabeth adjacent look. The collective message, though perhaps in different words, is Seaweed Brain .

“Even I knew of and believed in Superman,” Nico says.

“You’re telling me the Justice League doesn’t sound just a little bit fake to you?” Percy despairs, trying to defend himself, likely in vain. 

And then Margot and Jason save him. 

“I used to think it was a bedtime story,” Margot says, reaching down and patting Percy’s head. Jason, across from Percy on the floor, hums.

“I guess at some point in my childhood I was pretty sure Batman was the Boogeyman. Like, get caught and you’re fu-freaked ‘cause Batman is gonna break your femurs.” He tilts his head and smirks a little. “How the tables have turned.”

“At least you’re a boogeyman on purpose ,” Nico mutters. Will snickers at his expense and Percy sighs in solidarity.

“What d’you mean?” Tim has tilted his head. He’s asking Nico but for some reason- maybe Percy is crazy, because he's turned to face next to him, not Percy below them all- it feels like he’s watching Percy.

“If you think Jason gives off horrible vibes…” Nico says darkly.

“Your vibes aren’t that bad,” Will protests, lying. Percy snorts and Nico shoots him a look. 

“At least people think I’m the boogeyman because I’m predisposed for it. Someone around here-”

“Nico-” Percy groans.

“Is a hurricane in battle.” Will chuckles and daps him up. Percy rolls his eyes, secretly wondering at how they know how to do that because Will is from Texas suburbs and… well, blond, and Nico is from the 40s. He decides that it actually doesn’t matter and that they do, in fact, hang around other people their age nowadays, Hazel notwithstanding-

“I guess it’s good though, for all of us. In some way,” Nico points out, leaning back further and dragging Margot into his chest. 

“That’s true,” Jason says. “Reputation can do a lot of good. But what do you mean in battle? ”

“Sure can,” Will drawls, sidestepping the question. “Right, Ghost King?” Nico shoves him and Percy snorts into his empty bowl, moving onto his green beans. He’s pretty hungry now that he’s all healed up again, but the state of his stomach gives him the feeling that he needs to take it slow, so he’s been eating at a normal pace instead of a Percy-pace. 

“Whatever. At least I’m not the Child of the Prophecy,” Nico says pettily, and then shoves a spoonful of chili in his mouth so that Percy can’t hurt him without risking Jason’s couch. It’s a nice couch. Which is a shame, because Percy would really like to kick Nico where it hurts.

“Shut the hell up,” Percy grumbles. “Whatever. Wasn’t even about me in the end.” He too fills his mouth to avoid saying anything else. Unfortunately, Will exists possibly solely to break down any dignity Percy could possibly have in front of new friends. 

“Against all odds, Percy,” Will says, mock seriously. “Ooooooooh.” He wiggles his fingers. Percy doesn’t hesitate to kick him , which is extremely satisfying.

“Half the shit you guys say is so freaky,” Jason says, frowning at them. “What’re we talking about?”

“Prophecy’s over so we can tell them, right?” Nico asks through a mouthful of food. 

“We are not telling them about the Great Prophecy,” Percy snaps, attempting to put his foot down like Annabeth.

“Well my Dad is the prophecy guy and he says it’s fine,” Will says, crossing his arms.

“Says who!? ”

“Says me, who he’s the dad of,” Will tells Percy, grinning. Percy thought he himself could be annoying as Hades, but it looks like he has competition. He huffs and gets up, taking dishes and bringing them to the sink.

“Don't wash those!” Jason shouts. Percy rolls his eyes and leaves them in the kitchen, returning to his spot just in time for Nico to open his fucking mouth. Tim is leaning forward with his hands folded in his lap, and Percy’s pretty sure that up until he freaked out all over Tim back at the exhibit, he was a piece of the case they’re all working on together. It must be nice to finally get information on something you’ve been unable to work out for weeks on end, poor guy.

“The Great Prophecy was given probably 80-ish years ago now about a hero meant to save or destroy the world,” Nico says, allowing Margot to slip out of his arms and onto the floor. Percy notices for the first time that sitting on the coffee table are four doll-like figurines. There’s a Spiderman, a Wonder Woman, a G. I. Joe, and a regular looking Barbie. Off to the side there’s also one of those mini cars with the opening doors, and Percy considers reaching across the table to steal it from her. He resolves himself to paying attention for as long as he can to the conversation and only to observe Margot as she makes the G. I. Joe and Spiderman fight.

“To save or destroy is a pretty big difference,” Tim says skeptically.

“Margot, can you pass me that car?” Percy whispers to Margot, giving up immediately. She nods seriously and rolls it over to him. He starts fiddling with the turning steering wheel through the driver’s door as he rolls it back and forth in front of him, wishing they were talking about something else.

“Yeah,” Will says to Tim. “It was a pretty big deal because of that. There was this oath…”

“Nope,” Percy vetoes, still playing with his car.

“Not that one,” Nico says at the same time. Will sighs but wisely acquiesces.

Tim does not.

“What’s with the weird secrecy about oaths and prophecies? Are you in some kind of cult?” He asks, slightly irritated.

Percy sees Nico and Will exchange a glance out of the corner of his eye and inwardly sighs.

“Holy shit,” Jason says faintly. “You are .”

“We are not in a cult,” Percy says loudly, deciding that somebody has to do damage control. “It’s just a very exclusive, very dangerous… family… situation… Okay, so it does sound like a cult, but-”

“I’m realizing now that the Great Prophecy is a huge spoiler for major parts of our cult,” Will says with a musing tone, immediately destroying any progress Percy was making on the not-a-cult front (which wasn’t very much to begin with). “But I kind of don’t care.”

“I mean, Jason’s the only mortal here,” Nico points out.

“What about Tim?” Jason asks, at the same time Percy hisses, “Nico!”

“Oops,” Nico says, sounding unbothered. “And he can see through the Mist.” He points at Jason. Tim’s brow is furrowed and he’s looking back and forth between Nico and Percy.

“The way I see it,” Will continues for him, because they’re the worst sort of couple. “Is that they’re already wrapped up in it, even if you cut them loose now, so you might as well rope them in and let us have a little fun with it.”

This is their way of asking to tell his friends (well, Jason and his brother, but Tim is probably gonna end up either a close friend or a mortal enemy anyway). It’s really considerate of them to defer to him for this.

It seems like both Jason and Tim have figured that out, because they both turn to look at him like freaky animatronics, stiff and in sync. 

“Eugh,” Percy blurts.

“We’ll figure- rude,” Jason frowns at him. “We’ll figure it out anyway, so your friends are right.”

“Right, because you’re both stalkers,” Percy puts his head briefly in his hands, but relents fairly quickly. They return to the car as he sighs. “Whatever, eat your heart out.” He waves his hand over his shoulder. 

Will cheers. Nico is quiet but when Percy turns to look at him, he’s smirking victoriously. Percy rolls his eyes and decides not to look at his newer friends, instead releasing the car and scooping up Barbie, making her walk on the table towards Margot’s G. I. Joe with bouncing motions and then poses her, challenging the soldier like a Jojo character. The little girl lights up and soon, Barbie and G. I. Joe are fighting viciously.

“Basically, the prophecy goes, uh, what is it? Uh, A-” Will starts uncertainly.

“‘Half-blood of the eldest Gods shall reach 16 against all odds,’” Nico cuts in. “‘And see the world in endless sleep-’”

“‘A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap,’” Will recites. Nico cringes. On the coffee table, Percy flinches and Barbie goes still. G. I. Joe uses the distraction to draw on her, successfully eliminating her. Percy lies her down flat on her face, unable to focus on the game anymore.

“‘A single choice shall end his days,’ right? And then something about… I remember Connor making a joke about raise versus raze…”

Percy clears his throat, feeling a little sick again. He’s glad someone was able to purge at least part of that stupid fucking prophecy from their mind. 

“Olympus to preserve or raze,” He says, accepting the Spiderman figurine when Margot shoves it into his hand. “Thanks, Margot.”

“Defend her honor,” Margot says gravely, pointing G. I. Joe’s gun at Spiderman. Percy chooses to be pulled into the game again, not wanting to talk.

“Alright,” Says Tim slowly, frowning. Jason has procured a notepad and is scribbling the Great Prophecy down, which is very invested and nerdy of him. Why do nerds like Percy so much, anyway? “Can you break that down for us?”

“No, but I can summarize,” Nico says, a little bitchy. Spiderman flips over G.I. Joe’s head and sweeps a leg out, tripping him. “Basically, some kid is prophesied to turn 16 and make a choice that could possibly end the world or save it.”

“Right, but the endless sleep-” Tim points out. G.I. Joe gets a lucky shot in Spiderman’s bicep; he stumbles across the table before rolling away from a high kick.

“Everyone in a certain radius of the main battle sight was put to sleep for the duration of the battle and, had we not won, indefinitely,” Will says. Spiderman webs Joe up and delivers a swift uppercut to his jaw. Joe goes flying.

“What about the cursed blade?” Jason asks. “And what was the world ending choice?” Spiderman stops moving and G.I. Joe struggles to his feet. Margot is glancing between him and the dolls, prolonging G.I. Joe’s recovery time at his sudden pause. 

“Well, the blade was the knife that-” Will stops. Nico and Will look at each other, then the back of Percy’s head as Spiderman hides under the table to avoid another cheap shot from G.I. Joe while he’s distracted. “It was a knife.” 

“It was a knife our friend gave our other friend,” Percy says quietly, staring at the top of the table. “And it ended up being the one that killed him. The choice was whether or not to give him the knife and give him the opportunity to kill me and destroy everything.”

He remembers Annabeth’s pleading expression as he held her knife in his hand, standing across from Luke. He remembers Luke’s outstretched hand and Grover’s incredulous, horrified expression when he handed the knife to him hilt-first. 

He remembers Luke’s scream of agony as he stabbed himself and burned brilliantly, ending Kronos’ nearly complete resurrection.

“Luke was the hero in the end.” Percy puts his head down on the table. “Can we talk about the case now?”

“Good idea,” Tim says. Margot worms her way into Percy’s lap, leaving her doll behind on the coffee table. “Well, first of all, Percy was right. Serrado- the boss from the exhibit- is in kahoots with Percy’s would-be abductors. He had mentioned people Percy ‘dispatched’ yesterday. And he called Percy a million names. Percy?”

Another instance of someone handing him the ball. He turns his head to give Tim a half smile.

“I believe it was something about saving Olympus, slaying titans and giants, being a pawn.” Percy heaved a sigh, squeezing Margot gently, like a fragile stress ball. “He mentioned the Pit.”

“A Lazarus Pit?” Jason asks sharply, staring Percy down. Before Percy can tell him he doesn’t know what that is, Nico clears his throat.

“No,” He says. When Will and Percy look over to him, he explains, “A Lazarus Pit is the Styx water I told you about. Its nature is… different. It can heal mortal wounds, but it changes a mortal’s mind. It can drive them insane. Think of when you were in the Styx, Percy.” 

Percy grimaces. It did suck, a lot, and he’s a demigod. Plus, he was vying for the whole Curse of Achilles thing, and went into the river fully healthy. He came out perfectly unscathed, and a different level of scary that he’s glad to have left behind at the River Tiber. 

“So you have been in one, then?” Jason tries to clarify, looking a little manic, a little angry. His eyes are a bit brighter. 

“He has, though not the way you have,” Nico says, once again saving Percy. “But that’s not the kind of pit Serrado was talking about.” Or not. Why would he say that? Percy glares up at him and he offers a sympathetic grimace.

“The Pit is Hell,” Percy says simply.

“Hm,” Will says.

“Not… quite.” Nico grimaces harder. Percy wants to tell him his face will get stuck like that, but he bites his lip. A second later, he wishes he’d said it.

“So there’s the Underworld,” Will says, holding his hands out horizontally. “And then there’s, like, the place for evil people, the place for aimless, nameless people,” He moves his hands around at the same general height as the baseline he’d established.  “And then the place for good people and really good people, like heaven.” He puts that far to the left, still at the same level. 

“Not that far South from Asphodel,” Percy says, leaning back against the couch again. 

“Gotta leave some space for the Palace,” Nico agrees.

“Well, sue me for not having been there!” Will says exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. “That doesn’t even matter, anyway. The point is, that place is the afterlife, so Hell is like, the good and the bad place.”

“But… there’s another place,” Tim guesses.

“Tartarus,” Jason says. The temperature in the room seems to drop. The slacks Percy’s wearing seem especially constricting at this point, but the upside is being able to feel Riptide against his thigh. Nico’s eyes go a little far away and Will puts a hand at the back of his neck, sighing.

“Yes. It’s down here,” Will confirms, dropping his hand down below the couch cushions, a comical distance from his original height. “And no one goes there and lives. Except for these two.” Will tilts his head at Nico, then Percy. “That place sucks. People from our world don’t just talk about it. Whoever Serrado really is, he’s bad news.”

“He was honored to meet me,” Percy says bitterly. “And then he was scared of me.”

“Percy, it doesn’t matter who it is,” Will says, suddenly a bit grim. “Your enemies are usually pretty nervous.”

“That’s not true,” Percy protests, thinking of Ares and then Polybotes. “And besides the point. Which is, we still don’t know who the guy is, and we need to talk about what he’s smuggling, and we need to figure out why he’s working with Lady A. We don’t know who she is either, by the way, and I didn’t mention it before but there are these freaky alien zombie guys that I had to kill twice.” Percy takes a deep breath.

“You’re saying Albert Serrado is a fabricated identity,” Tim states, trying to redirect the conversation. Will gives him a slightly pitying look. 

“It’s not necessarily that Albert Serrado doesn’t- okay, yeah, fine. The guy was technically born thousands of years ago, probably,” He says. Margot wiggles around in Percy’s lap so he frees her.  

“So you're saying he's… what, immortal?” Jason asks. “And he's got nothing better to do?” 

“Exactly,” Will says. “Immortals these days will do anything to stay entertained or maintain their power, which comes from belief in them most of the time.” 

In tangent, Nico, Will, and Percy sigh.

“Most of the time,” Nico and Percy repeat in unison. They're all, of course, thinking about a certain primordial. Margot returns to his lap with a pack of crayons and a coloring book. The coloring book is an old Halloween themed one, and Percy wonders who picked it out and if the irony was on purpose or not.

“This guy had Selena's helmet,” Percy says suddenly. Nico and Will turn to look at him, Will particularly devastated. He's been a camper for longer than Percy, and likely was pretty close with her for a long time. Percy frowns up at them. “I know. And the last time I went he had more stuff from the first war. Whoever he is, he's not a nice one.” 

“Aside from smuggling weapons,” Tim starts, straightening and adopting a voice that Percy was unable to pull away from- sharp, authoritative, compelling.

Percy is reminded that he doesn't know these people very well yet, because he hadn't pegged Tim as a leader. But now, even with this passive presentation of information, Percy can see the conviction and responsibility in his lean shoulders.  

“-think it's Fear Gas. I'm not getting too deeply into how I figured it out because I don't want to bore you with the numbers. Just know that certain payments were really weird. Think extra zeroes, or not enough. I've been scouting their shipments, and a lot of times it's really sus. Yeah, they get boxes of padded- what'd you say it is, war relics? From what war?- But also, there's vials and weird ingredients, like flowers, and some gaps where shipments should've shown up that have me thinking they did , but they're held somewhere different because, well-” 

“They're alive,” Jason says darkly. He's sitting stiffly, which has to be uncomfortable on the wood floor. “Which you chose not to tell me earlier. Why?” 

Tim looks unrepentant, but nervous. Percy glances back at Jason, who indeed does seem to have a line of violence in his body, though probably not for Tim, right? Then again, when he looks back at Tim, he can see the slight shifts in his body, the unconscious way he's preparing for an attack. Maybe it's not a rational thing. Percy knows all about that. He shifts himself and Margot so they're more in front of him.

“You had a plan,” Percy says, searching for something else to get his hands on now that the doll game is over. Jason's glowing (why) angry eyes target him instead, and slowly begin to dim as they flick back up to Tim.

“Yes,” Tim agrees, his voice completely normal. It's kind of freaky that outwardly, if Percy weren't so close and paying so much attention, he might not have even noticed Tim's panic. 

“Between whatever you and Percy have been doing and my own operations,” Tim steeples his fingers together like an evil villain. Percy focuses on clapping Margot's little hands together- much to her annoyance- to banish the weird pang of endearment that just shot through him. “Adding more heat by bringing the pain had to wait until I had more information, especially since you mentioned he could be working with another person. Which doesn't matter now anyway because Serrado knows we're looking into him.”

“They want me to,” Percy says. “Lady A and Serrado are both gunning for me. Serrado has that worship vibe that ends up with me in an arena, but I don't know anything about the Lady.” He tilts his head. “No. Wait. She knows I don't want to kill mortals and we've met before. Serrado said she's looking forward to our reunion.”

“You think they have different motives?” Jason says, his posture more relaxed again, though still alert. 

“Maybe.” Percy shrugs. 

“Teamwork to beat Percy, and then they go their separate ways?” Will guesses.

“If that's the case, then it's likely we're not just dealing with Serrado, Lady A, and Scarecrow. This whole thing is so weird. Scarecrow usually isn't a team player.” 

Percy thinks uncomfortably about gods and poison and his last experience when the two crossed over. Lady A , he thinks, A, and shivers. He knows it isn’t her , that he’s just been thinking so much about the Pit lately that she’s a suspect by proxy, but she’s in Tartarus. He hates the fact that he’s more relieved by knowing who it isn’t than worried about not knowing who it is .

“The sooner this is over,” He says, suddenly exhausted. “The better. I'm gonna change.” If he misses anything, he doesn’t care.

He wiggles out from under Margot and feels her follow him to the hallway where his duffle bag is. He digs out flannel Ariel pajama bottoms and a huge faded camp shirt that used to advertise the sword fighting class but now just says something about S O R GH ASS, which Percy thinks is pretty funny. He slips into the first bedroom and changes quickly, then scoops up Margot. 

She seems to be worn out for the day. Whatever had occupied her time while Percy was in the pool really drained her, and she lies her head against his shoulder.

“How was your day?” He asks quietly, taking a moment to sit on the corner of the bed and set her down on one knee. 

“It was fun,” Margot says at a matching volume, yawning. “I like Nico and Will.” 

Percy smiles at her and he can't help it, feeling his affection boil over. He kisses her forehead, right above her eyebrow. She just giggles, rubbing her head against his cheek like a cat. 

“What'd you guys do?” He nudges, putting his chin on top of her head. 

“Jason put a Wii in our apartment,” She tells him seriously.

“Wait, seriously?” He asks, straightening up. “ Our apartment? Wii?” He's pretty confused about a number of things, one of which being having a video game console within easy reach of a 7 year old.

“He said until he talks to you about the couch,” She says, completely incomprehensible. Then she leans down again, shutting the confusing conversation down. “I'm tired.”

“Me too,” Percy says, allowing the subject to change. Even though Percy sat in a pool mentally checked out for a couple hours and feels a bit more refreshed, his entire being aches with fatigue, emotional and physical. He can't wait to get horizontal.

Jason appears like an omen at the doorway.

Speak of the devil…

“Hey, so I wanted to show you to your new place for now,” Jason says. “I’m assuming you’re probably looking forward to sleeping.”

“It does sound pretty good,” Percy agrees, standing up with Margot in his arms again. He zips up his duffle bag and throws it over his shoulder. “Lead the way.” Jason retreats down the hallway and out the front door, Percy diligently following behind. Surprisingly, they stay on the top floor, just two doors down on the opposite side of the hallway. He gestures to the door across from Percy’s.

“I offered that one to Nico and Will,” Jason explains. “Both of them are two bedrooms.”

“You have a 21 floor apartment building and you’re keeping us all on the same floor with you,” Percy says, letting Margot down so he can lean against the wall and tilt his head at Jason. “Is this a stalking thing, or a care thing?”

Jason shrinks a little into himself.

“Both?” He says, sounding a little unsure. Percy rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Margot’s stuff is already in there.” 

“Thanks, Jason,” Percy says, offering him a lopsided smile. The door to Jason’s safehouse cracks open and Will and Nico move toward them with their bags. Tim peeks out from behind them through the open door and offers a wave. Percy and Margot wave back as the door closes, and then Will stops before they enter their own new apartment. 

“If you need anything,” Will tells Percy seriously. He taps the door with his knuckle. Nico pushes past him and kicks the door open, glancing over his shoulder at Margot.

“That goes for you, too, trouble,” He tells her, before disappearing into the dark living room. Will blows them a kiss and then it’s just Jason, Margot, and Percy in the hallway. Percy opens the door to their new place and Jason holds out a key.

“See you tomorrow?” Jason offers.

Percy nods, taking the key and tucking it away with Riptide.

“Until then,” He says, ushering Margot into the apartment and closing the door behind him. She gallops to the kitchen and bounces off the wall, just barely reaching the light switch to turn the light on.

It’s a nice place. The front door opens right into the living room, similar to Jason’s, but there’s a narrow entryway that precedes it like his own compromised apartment closer to Crime Alley. It’s nice, he likes it. Jason took the liberty of getting them furniture Percy didn’t have in his old apartment as well as some replacement stuff, presumably because this place will be temporary and Jason’s assuming that once they solve this case, he can return to his apartment because no one will be after him anymore. Percy really admires his hopefulness and curses his own pessimism.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’s probably right in that he’ll likely never be completely safe in his old place ever again, regardless of how many wards and protection spells he puts up. 

He approaches Margot, who is lying on the coffee table of all places. He sees the aforementioned Wii looming ominously out of the TV stand and he looks away, refusing to acknowledge it in fear that Margot will want to play something.

“You already pick a room?” He asks, choosing to remain standing. He wants to go to bed as soon as possible, which means he’s even bypassing the kitchen and very tempting, likely stocked cabinet where cereal will be. Margot springs back up again and jogs (she must be pretty tired if she’s not sprinting at mach speed) to the first bedroom, leaving him the one at the end of the hall. It’s likely an intentional move, one that Percy’s grateful for as he tucks her into the full sized bed.  

“Good night, Percy,” Margot says softly as he stands in her doorway, the hallway light casting the broad shoulder of his shadows over her.

“Good night, Margot,” He says softly, and then goes to his own room.

The bed, like Margot’s, is a full with black sheets and white walls and a nondescript Ikea dresser. He realizes he left the bone sword with Tim, but since the guy’s brother is just down the hall and is currently Percy’s Sugar Daddy, he’s not too worried about it.

No, he’s worried instead of more violent, bloody things like Stymphalian Birds and anything that can climb flying right through Margot’s window. Or, conversely, through the front door. He does prefer his bedroom to be last but it means Margot is his first line of defense. No hate to her, but he’s not sure she can hold a line like him.

That, paired with his swirling thoughts of the case, the fact that Nico and Will are across the hall and might not be able to hear anything, and that stupid nightmare hanging over his head, he’s lost his faith in whether or not he’ll be able to sleep after all.

Then Margot pushes his bedroom door open about 20 minutes after they go to bed.

“Percy?” Margot whispers loudly into the room. Percy, despite everything, musters a smile. “Are you still awake?”

“Yeah, I’m still awake,” He whispers back, turning on the bedside lamp so he can see her face clearly. She looks about as tired as him, and her eyes are glossy like she wants to cry. “C’mere.” 

She launches over the side of the mattress and scrambles under the covers until her head is wedged into his armpit. He laughs.

“Is that really where you wanna be?” He asks, raising an eyebrow down at her. She just fake yawns widely and keeps her eyes closed, unable to repress a giggle at his fake annoyed muttering as he turns off the lights.

This time, Percy’s miraculously able to relax. The presence of a warm body is an immediate reminder of who he’s with and where he is, and from there all of the rest of the pieces fall mostly into place. He’s in a light doze 45 minutes later when there’s a commotion in the hall. He sits up carefully so as not to wake Margot up, unsure it’ll matter anyway with Riptide in one of his hands.

Nico and Will peer in at him through his bedroom door. He sighs and slumps back down onto the bed, putting Riptide haphazardly on the table.

“Other bedroom’s open,” Percy grunts sleepily, rolling over to bury himself under the covers. The noise recedes, and as soon as his eyes close he’s out.

—-------------

Chapter Text

When Percy wakes up, he’s warm, almost uncomfortably so. His arm is wrapped around and swallowing the form pressed against his side and left shoulder, who can only be Margot. There's a weight across his legs and another pressing on the outside of his bicep. He opens his eyes through the crust of the night before. 

Nico, for some reason, is lying diagonally across the mattress. His head is pillowed on Will’s stomach, who is sleeping like a normal person next to Margot, and his legs overlap Percy’s. Both boys are over the covers with the comforter from Margot’s bed thrown over them like an awry parachute. 

Percy sighs. So much for the other bedroom.

He can’t actually be too upset. This is the ideal solution to their issue, after all. Maybe if the Seven had done this on the Argo 11 there would’ve been some impaling action, but now, after so long without something kind, something normal, something done with love for the purpose of comfort, he’s weirdly perfectly fine with it. He even starts falling asleep again until his phone buzzes from in his duffle bag. He ignores it and holds Margot closer, feeling completely content as her little hand tugs briefly at his hoodie under the blankets. He ignores as the phone buzzes several more times, and nobody else stirs either. Percy melts into the bed.

He also ignores it 15 minutes later when someone walks through his new front door by way of a key, so he’s pretty sure it’s Jason. Indeed, not even 30 seconds later, he’s standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at them all piled onto the bed impassively. He snaps a photo with his phone before he puts it away, then meets Percy’s eyes and crosses his arms, nodding at his cluster of children. 

Percy shrugs and maneuvers out from under Margot, getting to his feet and stretching, before following Jason out to the living room.

“Early today,” Percy comments, still stretching. “Ever hear of knocking?”

“It’s 9am,” Jason says. “And no.”

“Whatever. What brings you to my humble abode so bright eyed and bushy tailed?” Jason gives him a dirty look as Percy sweeps into the kitchen, picking through the fridge. There’s a dozen eggs and many assorted vegetables as well as a bag of shredded Mexican cheese, so Percy pulls out all of the necessary ingredients to make omelets. 

“I wanted to touch base with you before I go out for the day, ‘cause Timmy and I are getting a head start on this damn case.” He leans back against the counter. Leaning is a big indicator for Jason, Percy’s beginning to realize. He leans for normalcy, to stay casual, to stay calm. Percy kind of likes it; maybe it’s meant to put the occupants in the room with Jason at ease as much as it seems to relax the man himself, due to all his hulking mass. 

“Surprised you guys fit so comfortably onto one bed after I got you 4 of ‘em.” Casual, normal, calm. He’s not offended, just curious.

“They came in last night and I thought they’d take Margot’s,” Percy says, flipping the first omelet and tossing the veggies and cheese on top. “But when I woke up we were having a sleepover.”

“Is that normal?” Jason asks, hoisting himself onto the floating island.

“I mean, yes and no,” Percy says. “Usually we’re in completely separate buildings, because of-” having different Dads wouldn't make much sense to Jason at this point, hopefully- “being in different cabins, or different cities. Uh, but after que- uh, missi- uh, cases, you know, dangerous stuff, especially if we’re in a new place, it’s pretty normal. Usually we’re in, like, a two bed hotel room-” or the ground, or a tunnel, or a tree, or an abandoned building- “for this sort of thing, so it’s more common than actually having enough space for this many people.”

“Huh.” Jason takes the omelet offered to him. “Thanks.”

“Case?” Percy nudges, moving onto the next omelet. Jason hums around a bite. 

“Yeah, so, Timmy’s actually working at his company today, so I’m going to be doing some more recon and stuff. We’ll get back to you on what we find in a couple of days, probably, assuming there’s nothing too time sensitive. What’s your work schedule?”

“I’m back on nights for the rest of time,” Percy says to his pan. “Gonna see if Nico and Will can hang out with Margot for those.”

Which is something he hadn’t initially considered upon taking in Margot, somehow. Like, who’s going to watch her at night ? It slipped his brain and he’s fortunate for his friend’s timely arrival. 

“How long are they staying?”

“Don’t know.”

“At least until after the case is solved and Percy’s safer again,” Will says, yawning from the hallway. He trudges in and collapses on the couch. “Maybe after that.”

Percy tries not to get his hopes up too high at the implication that Nico and Will are considering staying in Gotham. He mostly succeeds.

“Kids still asleep?” Percy asks rather than drawing attention to that interesting mention. Will grins.

“Margot is using Nico as a teddy bear,” He informs Percy. “Wish I had a camera.”

“Are you weird about tech, too?” Jason asks after finishing his mouthful of omelet. Will hums, closing his eyes and pressing his head further into the cushions.

“Tech isn’t really super great for people like us,” Will says. “Most of us don’t even have phones.”

Percy finishes the second omelet and deposits the plate on Will’s lap. 

“You should see Leo about that,” He advises. “He made me a working phone.” Will make a face at him.

“That ugly flip phone, Percy?” Will says, raising a despairing eyebrow. “No thank you.”

“He offered me a smartphone first, dick. Nico would like my phone,” Percy mutters, shuffling back to the safety of the kitchen as Will laughs behind him.

“Nico’s an old man,” He tells Percy. “That’s a joke.”

“Screw you,” Nico grumbles, collapsing flat on top of Will on the couch. On his back, Margot is clinging like a Gargoyle. Jason takes another picture. 

After everyone has eaten (including Margot, who grumbled herself awake at the offer of a sliced banana on the side), Percy, Will, and Nico hash out a plan for working with the mortals (and Tim) and watching Margot. Since the other two don’t have jobs and generally aren’t occupied at night, they’re fine keeping her at their place while Percy works. He’s pretty relieved that he can leave her with demigods- not that he doesn’t trust Jason. If he didn’t, none of them would be here. No, it’s a matter of monsters, Sight or otherwise. Nico with his sword and Will with his gift of healing- they check every one of Percy’s ‘babysitter’ boxes, although he suspects Nico and Will will end up both being more than that to her. 

Percy wonders what he is to Margot. Older brother? Uncle? Certainly not a father. Not for lack of trying, of course, but Percy’s turning 18 in a month, and he’s not exactly Dad material. 

Jason might not be either, he thinks as he considers Helmet, although he’s certainly got the right instincts for it. Percy teased him about it earlier on in their goings, but he really does respect Jason’s rules about children, and the measures he takes to enforce them. Some twisted part of him admires the brutality in which he enacts his punishment, his justice. His retribution. 

Jason is not a god, but he moves like one sometimes. He does what he wants and he hurts how he pleases and Percy can’t do that, not with the very real divinity in him, but as a shady security guard, he has heard his coworkers gossip about the Red Hood , the Bat that’s not a Bat. Of course, he’d met Jason as Helmet and wasn’t super impressed, but that’s because Percy is… well-versed in larger enemies. 

Percy also has this thing called a Fatal Flaw, and it really likes Jason. They’re friends, and when Percy’s friends with someone, he forgets how dangerous they are. It probably helps that Percy can likely incapacitate Jason easily with his powers, not that he’d ever use them against the guy. But Percy trusts him, and so if Jason is a brutal murderer and, Percy’s heard, has allegedly decapitated a bunch of mortals and left their heads in a duffle bag for the cops, oh well. Maybe it's shady, but they probably deserved it.

Hardcore. Clarisse would approve, Percy’s sure.

So Percy’s routine for the next few days, despite the displacement and newfound knowledge of being hunted (again), is shockingly normal- for Percy, but also in general. He goes out and around town with Nico, Will, and Margot; Jason says his brother will be in town soon with more information on how to cope with the responsibility of a child, and the aforementioned crime lord is still hot on the trail of Percy’s pursuers. At night, he goes to work and sleeps off the majority of the morning. Nico and Will come and go from his apartment; they use the top floor of Jason’s apartment complex as a sort of communal space, save for Jason’s specific apartment. Percy’s pretty sure Tim spends most of his time there, and Nico and Will have mentioned that they go over for dinner with Margot. It’s really cute, pretty domestic, and makes him hate that he’s missing out on that to go do security for creepy deals in random assorted dark corners and warehouses. 

Margot continues to amass more clothes, more hobbies, and more sass. Every time their paths cross (which has suddenly been painfully reduced to before and after work), she allows him to scoop her up and beguile her for information about what she did with Nico and Will. He’s beginning to really hate the fact that he chose working more hours over time with his friends and family. 

Truthfully, he’s using it to deflect. Standing around bored out of his mind and yet high strung with the new knowledge of the target on his back, it would normally give him time to think, but he kind of… applies himself. He figures he’ll get more sleep if he’s exhausted. 

So, yeah. There’s the fact that he’s exhausted. His quality of living- his life in general- has fluctuated so wildly since leaving New York that he’s kind of lost the plot. 

He can try all he wants, but sometimes it’s inevitable to have downtime- after a nightmare, a particularly slow night, over a pan of pancakes at 8AM when sleep won’t come. Like right now. 

He had an earlier shift today, so he’s home at a cheerful 3AM. He feels restless, on edge, anxious, and tired. He stares down the dark hallway towards both bedrooms, and he knows without a doubt nobody is here. He shrugs off his backpack and trudges down the hallway, shredding his clothing as he goes. He wrestles on a pair of checkered red pajama pants (his, actually) over his socks and forgoes a shirt, pulling out his phone and staring down at the text thread with his Mom, which is notably short due to both of their unfamiliarity with Percy having a phone. His finger hovers over the call button before he reminds himself that his Mom is definitely asleep, probably worked all day, and also has been dealing with a one year old. Percy didn’t need to take on his own older variant of child to sympathize with her. He ends up sending her a text, hoping to his Dad that she keeps her notifications off at night. 

Momma

Percy (3;18AM): hi mom lots of updates le t me kmow when fr ee to call

Then he tosses his phone on the kitchen table (large enough for 6 whole chairs. How crazy is that?) and leaves his apartment, his steps falling softly against the carpet in the top floor’s hallway. 

When he gets to the roof, he takes a moment to inhale and enjoy the strangely refreshing summer breeze dance over buildings. Maybe it’s because they’re 20 stories up. Percy inhales and in two strides reaches the pool’s edge, where he falls face first with a splash, disrupting the moon’s rare reflection on the surface. He exhales in a flurry of bubbles and sinks to the center of the deep end, floating listlessly as he thinks about what he’s even doing, what he should be doing. Like finding this Lady A person, or investigating with Tim into the weird trafficking thing that is just honestly so strange. The involvement of mortals makes this stink to high heaven, and Percy kind of wants to be sick just thinking about it. Because honestly, what are the odds that Percy moves to a place notorious for low monster activity- at least, according to Chiron, who is a pretty dang reliable source- and suddenly it just jacks up? No, they already know they want Percy specifically, like this little business packed up and moved to Gotham just for him- like he provided them a foothold to terrorize him, his friends, and random Gotham demigods- children , no less.

But how did they find him? What do they want?  Those are the questions , he muses to himself, frustrated and tired still. He feels helpless, because all of his thinking is leading him in circles, and the more time he spends running laps in his head the less time he’s figuring out important stuff like the Suit Guy and Percy’s pursuers. 

A rock bounces into the pool, sending a minute ripple across the surface. The tiny pebble slowly drifts down to Percy’s eye level, then lower, and he watches it hit the bottom with furrowed brows before redirecting his gaze to the surface. He can vaguely make out a shadow standing at the edge of the pool, a dark silhouette in the moonlight with glowing eyes. The rock must’ve been intentional, and the shadow doesn’t have hair, so he’s really hoping he’s about to surface to Helmet’s charming glare and not Evil Steve Harvey or something.

As he gets closer, he can make out the red glowing under bright moon beams, so he pokes his eyes over the surface, raising an eyebrow. There’s movement behind Helmet, and he feels pressure build in the water against his body as he tenses and takes in their companion.

He’s about the same height Percy was right after the fight with Gaea, and he’s got a lot of lithe muscle coiled up in his body. Percy can see the restrained energy in the tentative, dead silent step forward he takes, his masked face strangely open and his head tilted.

“I guess you were right,” The mortal says to Helmet. He turns to Percy. “How long have you been down there?”

Percy regards him for a long moment. He’s wearing a black suit, sort of like Jason’s body armor, just with less armor and more visible body . It has a blue bird-like symbol stretching over his chest and down his arms.

“I like the finger stripes,” Percy says, chin bobbing above the water. He glances at Helmet for an explanation. Of course he doesn’t oblige, because he sucks.

“Thank you!” The man says, grinning and sounding genuinely pleased. “I’m Nightwing, Red Hood’s brother.” He sticks out a hand to shake. 

Percy eyes it warily before drifting up and forwards in the water to take it, shaking his hand firmly and then sinking back down.

“Percy Jackson,” Percy says. He looks at Nightwing for a long moment. And then, “You're with the Batman, right?” Helmet snorts in an ugly way, the sound grating through his helmet.

Nightwing tilts his head again, similar to the way Jason does but a little more uncanny. Percy wonders if Jason got it from him . Nightwing’s mouth twitches with amusement, and his smile turns into a smirk like he can't help it.

“Sometimes,” He says. “ The Batman?”

“He’s here to talk about school and Margot,” Jason says, and then takes his helmet off. 

“Does vigilantism run in the family or something?” Percy asks, getting up onto the pool’s edge so that only his legs are in the water. “Is Tim a vigilante?”

“Tim?” Nightwing echoes, looking over at Jason, whose face is annoyingly blank with the mask on. It’s so strange to see the freeness of his brother’s emotions flitting across his features while Jason’s mouth is always either a hard line or a tiny quirk of the lips. 

“What, you and Jason are brothers but not you and Tim? Is that why you look nothing alike?” Percy also frowns at Jason. 

“ Jason ?” Nightwing repeats incredulously.

“Is that not his- did you give me a fake name, asshole?” Percy asks, equally irritated, unsurprised, and a little amused.

“ No, I didn’t- my name really is Jason. Nightwing didn’t know you knew my real name.” Percy narrows his eyes in a suspicious gesture before glancing at Nightwing, who looks remarkably peeved. 

“Right, the whole secret identity thing. Except that’s really funny, because I’m pretty sure you don’t have a life outside of your helmet and your strange thing with feeding me,” Percy says, just to get on his nerves. He watches as Jason shifts his weight and a muscle his jaw jumps, and he snuffs a grin. 

“That is not true,” Jason begins, scowling harder than he has all night and jabbing a finger at him before shoving both hands into his jacket pockets. Nightwing suddenly looks much more pleased.

“He’s feeding you?” He asks, sitting down next to Percy opposite of where Jason’s standing. It’s then that the moonlight catches the weapons on his back over his shoulder, just briefly. They look like batons of some sort, but high tech and a little shiny. Nonlethal for Percy, at least. Probably. 

“I’m not complaining.” Percy actually does grin as Jason begrudgingly sinks down to their level with a heavy sigh. “Please do keep stocking my fridge.”

“Not that you eat anything besides breakfast food,” Jason accuses. “And I’m hardly feeding you more than I am your little entourage downstairs.”

“Which I am very appreciative for,” Percy says solemnly, and then becomes more genuinely serious. “Really, though. Thanks. I should probably cut down my hours since I’m not worrying as much about food or rent for however long this goes on for. The extra place for my friends was a lot. I owe you.”

“You can make it up to me by actually explaining the important parts of the Greek cult you’re in,” Jason says, nudging his shoulder. “Or any of it.”

“To be fair,” Percy says, deciding again to be antagonizing on a dime, “I don’t know much about you, either. Just that you’ve been in the St- er, a Lazarus Pit, and you’re a gang lord. Also, your whole thing is kind of… fetish-y? No offense, it’s just, the helmet, the gun kink, the leather-”

“Stop talking,” Jason growls. On Percy’s other side, Nightwing is bubbling over with laughter, tilting back but somehow not losing his balance.

“Just saying.”

“Honestly, you know more about him than I ever would’ve expected,” Nightwing tells Percy. 

“Here, my life story: I was brutally murdered by the Joker when I was 15 and then an evil group of assassins stole my randomly revived braindead body and attempted to rehabilitate me and install me back into Gotham to terrorize B. Uh, Batman.” Jason says all of this in a completely flat tone except for the last part, where he sounds a little surprised that he called the Batman a nickname. Percy whistles, deciding not to point out Jason starting his 'life story' at the age of 15, effectively cutting out most of his childhood.

“That is pretty crazy,” Percy says. “I know a couple people who’ve been revived, seems like it sucks. Sorry about the evil assassins.”

“See, you say things like that,” Jason says, “And then never elaborate.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you more about my world when the Batman’s friends aren’t around,” Percy says, grimacing at Nightwing. “No offense.”

“I get it,” Nightwing says. Jason pushes himself to his feet in a surprisingly graceful maneuver for his size and groaning, sliding his helmet back onto his head.

“Then I don’t need to be here. See ya.” He does his little trademark over-the-shoulder wave and jumps off the edge of the building with the whir of his rope gun. 

“Y’know it’s just Batman , not The Batman,” Nightwing says after a second, sounding amused.

“If you choose a name like the Batman and you’re supposed to be a symbol, that’s on you,” Percy says, arching his back and stretching his arms out wide. Nightwing watches him for a moment before turning back to the water in front of them.

“Fair,” He tells the pool. A moment of quiet passes, and Percy takes the opportunity to study the vigilante’s face closer.

He’s handsome, shockingly so, and strangely familiar in a way Percy can’t place. He would have assumed in their sort of business, everyone’s nose has a signature break, like Jason’s, and this guy’s nose isn’t straight like Tim’s, but it’s perfect somehow, in a really irritating sort of way. He might even be more handsome than Jason Grace, and that guy has always been annoyingly attractive. Nightwing’s jawline is square and sharp and even under his mask, his cheekbones compliment his features well. His lips are full, though pursed in thought. 

“So you know something about kids,” Percy says finally. Nightwing leans back on the palms of his hands, looking up at the moon. Percy idly creates waves in the pool, half from his legs and half from his powers.

“Right,” Nightwing says. “Sorry. Lost in thought. Yeah.” 

Percy looks back over at him again in a silent question.

“You haven’t been around for long, but my brothers seem to really like you. It’s rare for them, especially Jason,” Nightwing explains. “It hasn’t always been good between us, so I’m… just a little surprised to be voluntarily introduced to you, to be honest.” He laughs. It’s not self-deprecating so much as tired, almost sardonic. It’s a familiar sound. 

“He does seem a little prickly,” Percy agrees. Nightwing laughs again, lighter this time. “Voluntarily?”

“Well, guy getting hunted by a group of people and who’s hanging around my little brothers? I’m gonna look into it either way.” Nightwing gives Percy an easy grin. “And prickly… That’s a word I’d use to describe Tim. Jason? I’d say spinous.”

“I have never heard someone use that word in my life,” Percy says. “But I get not getting along with family right off the bat. My cousins and I had a pretty rough start.” Understatement. Thalia tried to blow him up and Percy got Nico’s older sister killed. “My brother and I, too.” Nightwing nods.

“When Jason first joined the family, I wasn’t… the best older brother. I had a lot going on with our dad at the time, and I had my own team to lead, and by the time I started to fix it, he was- gone.” He leans over the pool and sticks a gloved hand in, stirring the water. “I was off-world on a mission. I didn’t even know until I got back. I didn’t even- get to go to his funeral.” Nightwing sighs heavily, his voice thick. “We have him back now and it’s great, but getting to where we are wasn’t easy.”

Percy watches as the vigilante’s face stays positively stony despite the clear emotion he’s feeling, and re-evaluates his initial assessment of his expressions. It’s another familiar gesture- something he’s seen often in the mirror on and off for seven years. Percy never asked to be what he is and he definitely didn’t want to be a general at 15. He sort of has the feeling he’s talking to another child soldier.

“I can understand that,” Percy says, wondering about the words ‘off-world.’

“Yeah,” Nightwing says. “I’m kind of getting that feeling.” He tilts his head again. “You seem pretty protective of your family, too.”

“Oh, sure,” Percy agrees easily. “My family, my friends. S’all I got.” 

Nightwing takes a long pause just to study Percy right back. 

“Well,” He says after a moment, his tone lighter. “When our Dad was, uh, gone, for a year, I took in my little brother. He came from…. a differently structured way of life, and so he and I spent a lot of time unlearning a lot of awful stuff. He could be pretty awful, and sometimes it was hard to remember that he’s just a kid. It was even harder for him to remember that.” 

All Percy can think about is Nico storming into the forest at camp after opening up a fissure in the ground for the first time, swallowing Atlas’ skeletons whole. Then he thinks of the kid downstairs, hopefully fast asleep with Will and probably Margot. 

“But I learned to remember that whatever I’m struggling with, it’s so much more complicated for them- or maybe it’s worse. Maybe it’s simple and overwhelming. It’s about balance. Paying attention. Staying flexible, staying whelmed. Oh, and Jason figured out the school thing for you. I’m sure he’ll tell you later, since he decided to bail, but there’s a couple different laws and stuff for getting 'homeless' children an education.” Nightwing doesn’t actually sound too upset about Jason’s hasty retreat. “Is there anything you’re particularly concerned about?”

Percy doesn’t even have to think about this question.

“How do I- I’m not-” Percy searches for the words, his eyes scanning the water below. He lets out a frustrated grunt. “I can’t be… a father . I’m about to turn 18! I love that kid, I do, but…” 

Shame and guilt and inadequacy curl in his gut, and the pool laps aggressively at his shins. 

“You think you’re not right for it?” Nightwing guesses.

“I know I’m not,” Percy confirms. “I’m too young, too inexperienced. And look, I’d totally send her to Camp, no big deal, but she’s-” in danger. Dangerous. Both are equally true.

“It’s not safe,” He finally despairs. Because in all reality, it’s not. Sure, she doesn’t have a Luke Castellan lurking in the shadows waiting to betray her- well, the chance is low but never zero, he supposes- and no one’s summoning creatures within Camp to hurt her, probably. The borders are reinforced with the Athena Parthenos there, but that is precisely a part of the problem. Because if Margot was just any demigod, Percy would usher her straight to Camp. He’s likely going to have to do the same for Alex soon, and depending on the monster business in Gotham, Sandy.

But Margot was born of a broken oath, just like Percy. She’s incredibly strong and it’s obvious to anyone who comes near her, and putting her into the eye of their world outside of Gotham is asking to burn her funeral pyre. 

“You feel responsible for her because she’s meta?” Nightwing asks. “Because you’re meta too?”

Percy eyes him with trepidation. “Who told you that? Jason?”

“Yes, but I would’ve figured it out with the whole pool thing and the glowing eyes, too. Assuming you haven’t been in a Lazarus Pit,” Nightwing says, gesturing to the pool in front of them. In the center, a small whirlpool has formed, going so fast it froths up the chlorine. Percy takes a deep breath and the water calms back into its lazy waves.

“Well, I mean, technically?” Percy scratches his jaw, waving away Nightwing's incredulous look. “But that’s not why I look like this. These are just my eyes.”

“And the hair?”

“Uh… Let’s say magical incident.”

“Right.” Nightwing shakes his head. “Well, from my understanding, you’ve got a couple of kids like you following you around. What makes Margot different, just that she’s homeless? Jason said he found somewhere for her but you said it wasn’t safe. What makes a place safe for her specifically?”

Percy has half a mind to drown him.

“You ask a lot of questions,” He says instead, pushing off the ground and sliding neatly into the pool.

“Just answer one.” Nightwing stands up and pulls out a little gun, which Percy assumes is how they’re swinging around everywhere. He steps back until he’s at the roof’s ledge. “Where is safe?”

Percy closes his eyes. “For who?”

“You. Margot.”

“Margot? With me.” Percy opens his eyes and offers Nightwing half a smile. “With Riptide in my hand, for me.”

”Those aren’t necessarily where ,” Nightwing says. “Is Riptide your sword?”

“I don’t like how much Jason’s told you about me,” Percy mutters, sinking a little deeper into the water, up to his chin.

”Actually, that wasn’t just Jason. You don’t show up well on camera, you know. I could barely even tell what your weapon was.” But he could still see it somehow?

“Tough. See you later,” Percy says, and then completely submerges and sinks to the bottom. He’s pretty sure Nightwing will take the cue that he’s done talking and leave his roof in peace. Percy has a lot to think about. 

Chapter Text

Later, when Percy’s done sulking in his pool and the sun’s first rays are cresting the horizon over the glittering, filthy harbor, he makes his way back to his barren apartment. His phone buzzes on the kitchen counter before he has a chance to sink down onto the couch, and he picks it up.

Momma

Momma (6:13 AM): Awake?

Percy (6:13 AM): unfrtntl ey yes

His phone starts vibrating wildly in his hand as his Mom’s caller ID pops up, and he presses the answer button as swiftly as possible, nearly dropping the phone in his haste.

“Mom,” He says into the phone. “Hi. How are you?” Sally laughs. 

“ Why are you up so early? ” is the first thing she asks, humor coloring her tone warm. Percy feels his body relax on instinct, a grin creeping across his face. 

“Haven’t gone to bed yet,” He admits. “Have a lot to think about. Why are you?”

“ Percy ,” His mother admonishes him. He can hear her frown, eyebrows pulling down and over brown eyes. Then, she sighs. “ I’m awake because apparently, your sister is a morning person .” 

Percy grimaces. Perhaps an upside of rarely seeing Margot and, for that matter, anyone else, is the potential for more sleep. 

Downside: potential and reality are two completely different things. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure he’d rather have them anyway. 

“ Percy? ” Sally asks in the silence, and he starts. 

“Sorry, I was thinking,” Percy says, clearing his throat. “Still here. I, uh… I have a lot to tell you.” Understatement, really, and he has no idea where to start in the whole mess. 

“ The thinking is what I’m worried about,” His Mom says, only half joking. “ Well? What’s changed since we last spoke?”

Percy sighs through his nose. 

“Well, I can start with the small stuff, or I can just lay it out.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Percy grins at his Mom’s false offense. 

“You asked for it.” He thinks back to when he last talked to her, and then leans back to half-sit on the back of the couch. “Alright, so… you know about the vigilantes in Gotham, right?”

“ Please tell me you didn’t fight Batman,” His mother despairs.

“Oh my Gods,” Percy mutters, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t freaking fight the Batman . I did, however, meet some of his friends. Children? Coworkers? Unsure.”

“And by meet, you mean…?”

“Well, it’s sort of complicated. I found some half-blood kids- or, they found me . One of them is Nico’s little sister, and she doesn’t have anyone, and so I kindoftookherin.” He pauses, waiting for her to say something, but she’s quiet, so he goes on. “Her name is Margot, she’s 7 and a half. Uh, some stuff is kind of going on, nothing crazy, and Nico and Will are visiting, and, uh, one of those coworkers I told you about is giving us a hand, so we’re in a bit of a nicer part of the city right now.”

After a long moment, his mother says, “How are the boys?”

Percy finds his own brows furrowing at her lack of acknowledgement of the baby demigod-sized elephant in the room, but he humors her anyway.

“Good. Nico still scares the shit out of everyone, and Will still annoys the crap out of me.” His Mom laughs again.

“Karmic retribution,” She says. “So. Margot? And who are these coworkers of Batman helping you out?”

Percy winces and decides to start with the slightly easier topic first. 

“She’s great, I’ll bring her by as soon as I can. She’s a really brave kid. Sassy.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Ha,” Percy says. “Um, I can’t take her to camp, so she’s kind of stuck with me. Thankfully I have the boys and Jason and his brothers-”

“Who’s Jason?”

Percy winces. Oops. At least he can be sure his Mom won’t be spilling that trade secret. 

“Uh. Have you ever heard of the Red Hood?”

“Perseus Jackson.” Sally doesn’t even sound as angry as she does completely stressed out of her mind. “How do you possibly end up in these situations? Why are you involved with a violent crime lord!?”

“He’s just misunderstood!” Percy defends, then frowns to himself and thinks about saying that in front of Jason. He’d probably get a black eye out of it. “He helped me help Margot, and he also had my back during a fight last week.”

“I thought Gotham didn’t have a monster problem.”

“I’m kind of the problem, right now,” Percy admits. “I’m not actually sure what’s happening on that front, but I promise I’ll tell you when I know.” Which is a complete lie. Percy’s always withheld details to his Mom about quests and fights and the Pit, obviously. She knows it as well as he does, and she just sighs again.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It’s why I’m not making you promise you’ll be safe.” He shrinks into himself a little as he hears muffled ruffling on the other line, wishing it was an Iris Message so he could see her face. “But promise me you’ll try to be okay, Percy. And bring your crew by when you can. I’ll decide for myself if your new friend is misunderstood or not, and I haven’t seen Nico since… Well, I think it might’ve been just after you left for senior year.”

“Wait, what?” Percy straightens from his slouched posture. He’d been in New Rome for that last year, so he’s a little surprised Hazel didn’t tell him.

“He didn’t tell you?” She asks. At Percy’s silence, she exhales heavily. “I can understand why. He, Thalia, and Hazel- lovely girl, by the way- stopped by about a week after you got to California. They were worried, baby. Those kids love you.”

“I love them too,” Percy says quietly, looking down at his feet. He clears his throat. “I’m doing better now. Jason’s really cool, he’s helping me out a ton… I’ll fix this, Mom.”

“Honey, you haven’t broken anything to begin with,” His Mom says gently, as a soft knock rings out in the dark and empty space. Percy creeps over to his door and peers through the peephole.

It’s Tim. 

“Hang on one second.” Percy opens the door and the sunlight from his apartment’s window lights Tim’s silhouette in a pale gray hue.

He’s in a fancy suit, similar to the one he wore at the exhibit except more gunmetal. His shirt is also half unbuttoned, revealing smooth, pale collarbones and a thin white undershirt. He has two moles on his sternum along his left shoulder. He looks a little flushed in the face, like he’d ran here, and his hair is mussed. 

He’s not out of breath though, Percy notes. He gestures for him to come inside and he obliges; Percy locks the door behind him. Tim, strangely, will not stop staring at him.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta go,” Percy says into his phone. His chest aches fiercely, an icy hot sensation crawling through his sternum. “Friend’s visiting.”

“One of the Bat brood?” His mother asks.

“Not sure,” Percy admits to himself for the first time, looking across the dimly lit room at Tim in his disheveled state. He absentmindedly thinks that even vaguely ghostly, Tim’s handsome, those piercing eyes so pretty in the dawn. “I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you too, Percy. Be safe,” His mother says again, before the line clicks. For a moment after the call ends, he stares down at the blank screen of the phone in his hands. Then he looks back up at Tim, who is watching him from under long, dark lashes. 

“Hey,” Percy says.

“Hey,” Tim says. They both stare at each other.

“What brought you here in a hurry?” Percy finally asks, his mouth feeling a little slow. Tim seems to start a little at his sudden break of the quiet, blinking rapidly. 

“Oh. Terrible meeting and there’s a- I figured something out about the case. Like, something happening, tonight, at the docks.” Tim sweeps an errant strand of hair from in front of his eyes. “Mostly terrible meeting, though.” 

“You came to me instead of Jason?” Percy asks without thinking, unable to regret it when Tim’s flush grows darker. There’s the faint taste of amusement on his tongue that soothes the sharpness in his chest like a cough drop.

“Didn’t know if he was gonna be home,” Tim mutters, looking down and away. “I was kind of surprised to see you up, though.”

“About that,” Percy says, “How did you know I was awake and home?”

“I have my ways,” Tim says quickly, evading the question. “Why are you awake?”

Percy sighs, passing Tim to sit down on the back of the couch. Tim follows his lead, mirroring his position and crossing his arms. Percy’s hands pull absentmindedly at the waistband of his pants, the hems of his pocket, and eventually come to hold Riptide. 

“Lots of thinking,” Percy says, watching the glint of his otherwise innocuous pen’s clip in the dawning light. “Met Nightwing.”

Tim turns to look at Percy abruptly, his eyes sharp and searching.

“Oh?” He asks, his voice light. Percy can see right through him, and raises an eyebrow to tell him so.

“Jason brought him by,” Percy goes on. “Nice guy. Handsome.”

“Now imagine him without the mask,” Tim grumbles, casting his eyes aside again. If Percy didn’t know better, he’d almost think that Tim was jealous. A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, amusement spreading.

“I’m sure he’s a good looking guy,” Percy acquiesces. “Bet you’d pull off a mask pretty well, yourself.”

He watches with fascination as Tim’s ears turn bright, stark red. The rest of him hardly changes, save for the quickness that his eyes bounce around the room.

“Me? Nah,” Tim says. “I don’t think I’m the right guy for that sort of thing.”

Percy knows, immediately and with a sudden suspicion, that Tim is lying. He allows it anyway, because he just remembered something else.

“Sure,” Percy says. “Do you still have the sword?”

“It’s in Jason’s apartment,” Tim says, combing his hair into a more respectable style. Privately, Percy thought it looked pretty good, all wild like that. “Why?”

“Gonna have Nico grab Margot a knife so we can get started on practice while we plan for whatever we’re doing tonight,” Percy explains, standing up and twisting until his back cracks. “You’ll be joining us. Right?”

“...Right,” Tim agrees after a second, looking over at Percy. “Hey, what was that thing about my grandma that you asked about?” He’s going for nonchalance, but Percy can see right through him.

Well, he thinks, never a time like the present.

“Your grandmother was a goddess,” Percy says bluntly. “You have godly heritage. That’s why you can see the monsters, why you can probably read Greek pretty well, and why Nico excluded you from other mortals, earlier.”

Tim stares and then barks a laugh.

“Demigods,” Tim says flatly. “I’m going to ignore for a moment how absurd that is. ‘Half blood of the eldest gods’ literally meant half god .”

“Yeah,” Percy says. “At your service. I’m not meta, for the record. And neither are you.”

“I have a friend who’s a demigod. Wondergirl- ever heard of her?”

Percy squints, deciding not to mention that he just pointed out Tim is also part god. “What, like Wonder Woman? What’s her real name?” 

“Cassie.”

“Nope.” Percy shrugs. “I know a lot of my modern cousins, but I’m always finding out about more. Take Margot. And if she’s our age, I’d have a bone to pick with her anyway.” And Wonder Woman, come to think of it. Because if they’re really demigods- Zeus’ children, no less- where were they during the last two great wars?

“Who’s Margot’s parent?”

“The man down under.” Percy tips his head towards the ground. “Nico’s Dad. He doesn’t like me very much, so I try to avoid calling his name.”

“You’ve met him?” Tim asks. “I mean, Will said you and Nico had been to the underworld, but I didn’t think…”

“I’ve met a lot of gods,” Percy says, his eyes going distant. “And a lot of other immortals, too. Most of them kind of suck, to be honest with you.”

“What about your dad?” When Percy shoots a questioning look at him, Tim shrugs, a little sheepish. “Heard you say Mom on the phone earlier, figured gods don’t really call.”

“You’d be surprised, but mostly right,” Percy says, thinking about Hermes and Poseidon and their love for showing up uninvited. “My Dad’s really cool. Obviously, they’ve all had their moments, but… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he’s my father.”

“And he’s… Poseidon?” Tim guesses.

“Yes,” Percy says, a little impressed. “How’d you guess?”

Tim gives him a deadpan look.

“You exploded the sinks in your apartment and swimming in Jason’s musty roof pool miraculously healed your wounds,” He says. “Your name is Perseus. It was truly a mystery for the ages.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Have any ideas who your grandma could be?”

“I was going to ask you that question,” Tim says, frowning. “I’ve got no clue. With her being a professor-”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Percy agrees, though as he studies Tim, he’s not sure if that actually fits him. “But I don’t know…”

“If not Athena, then who?” 

Percy shrugs. “You may find out soon, or never. The gods operate on their own time, and you’re a legacy. Maybe ask your mom?”

“My mom is dead,” Tim says absentmindedly, clearly still lost in thought. Percy pauses, startled.

“Oh,” He says dumbly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, we weren’t very close,” Tim says, glancing over at Percy like he’s surprised at his reaction. Percy looks right back, searching Tim’s face for… he’s not sure. Part of him wants to find some inclination towards sorrow, or grief, and another part is begging for the opposite. 

Both parts kind of get their wishes; the corner of Tim’s mouth twitches momentarily and his eyes lose focus, lost in the dark corners of Parcy’s apartment.

“Sorry,” Tim says after a moment. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

“Nah,” Percy says, nudging him with his shoulder. “Jason dropped the backstory bomb earlier too. Everybody’s got something.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tim asks. “What do you got?”

Percy gives Tim a half smile, bitterness wreathing his thoughts like cloaks. 

“A guilty conscience,” He says. Tim  looks at him. 

“Are you going to elaborate?”

“Probably not,” Percy admits, glancing at the oven clock before pushing off the back of the couch. He finds a hoodie shoved between the cushions and tugs it on. “Wanna go wake up the others?”

“I’m getting the impression you do,” Tim says, allowing the subject to change and following Percy out of the apartment and across the hall, where he unlocks Nico and Will’s front door and allows Tim in first. He swings it shut and looks around.

Shockingly, everyone is awake. Margot and Nico are at the kitchen table using coloring books while Will is organizing one of his jumbo first aid kits. The two Hades children offer him and Tim twin waves as the latter settles across from them and takes up his own pencil and paper. Percy watches as Margot reaches out for the pencil Nico offers her, snatching it politely and scribbling on top of her previous drawings. He wonders if she actually likes art or if she’s just bored and it’s all he has to entertain her.

“Sorry the thrift store didn’t work out,” He tells her, ruffling her hair as he passes on his way to the kitchen. He pulls out a bag of bread, milk, a couple eggs, cinnamon, and vanilla extract. Percy has never had great experiences with French people- Dr. Thorne really set the tone- but he sure as Hades loves french toast, like any other normal person on the planet. It’s easy and it’ll take him no time at all, so he prepares the batter and heats up a pan on the stovetop. He hears Nico chatting with Margot and Tim as Will enters the kitchen behind him, planting himself on the counter beside the tray of batter Percy dips pieces of bread in before laying them out one at a time in the pan. 

“How was work?” Will asks. Percy hands him a plate and then begins stacking finished pieces of french toast on it. 

“It was fine,” Percy says. “You know, all the guys I work for have such weird gimmicks.”

“Not, like, clown gimmicks, right?” Percy gives Will an odd look as he flips a slice of toast.

“No. Random,” Percy says, frowning at his eyebrow raise. “By the way, I met another vigilante last night.”

Will perks up, seemingly forgetting about clowns. “Who!? Where? How?” Percy laughs, leaning back against the kitchen island in the narrow space. 

“Nightwing, Jason’s brother,” Percy says. “He seems cool. Gave me some advice. Not as helpful as Jason made him out to be, though.”

“Don’t diss Nightwing,” Will hisses, jumping off the counter and leaving the plate of french toast behind. “He’s the best of them, seriously.” 

“...Right,” Percy says, side-eyeing the son of Apollo. He doesn’t refute it, but he privately harbors the opinion that Robin’s pretty cool because he has a sword, and he’s already admitted to himself that Jason’s policies are fairly agreeable. He finishes breakfast and, with Will’s help, sets the table in Nico and Will’s apartment. Just as the five of them start dishing out food, there’s a knock at the door. Percy peers through the peephole before opening it for Jason himself, who stands in the doorway for a moment just looking at Percy.

“I don’t recall you needing an invitation to come into my apartment,” Percy accuses, stepping aside in a deliberate movement. Jason rolls his unmasked eyes and still manages to shoulder-check him as he walks past.

“Just wasn’t expecting you awake, or here,” Jason explains as he looks appraisingly over the breakfast on the table in front of them. “You make this?”

“Sure did. What brought you here this fine morning?”

“Just visiting the neighbors. May I?” He gestures to the last empty seat as Percy takes his own and settles in with no prompting, sparing Tim an unimpressed glance like he’s unsurprised to see him there. Then he pulls a folded piece of paper out of his giant front pocket and hands it to Percy, who slides it across the table right back to him.

“I can’t read,” Percy says with a mouthful of french toast, ignoring Tim’s imploring look for another explanation. Nico scoffs a laugh and Will just sighs. Margot is clearly locked in on adding as much powdered sugar as possible to her plate, so she’s not really paying any attention, but he’s pretty sure she’d feel his pain. 

“School stuff,” Jason tells him. “How to enroll her, what paperwork is required, who you have to go through- except I did all that already. This is just your backup info in case someone asks after her. She starts next Monday.”

“Where’s the school?” Percy asks, leaning back and putting one hand on top of Margot’s head, effectively palming the entirety of her skull like a basketball. Margot attempts batting him away to no avail and ends up just ignoring him for her food. 

“Thank you, Jason, you’re so kind, Jason,” Jason says in a high pitched voice, and Margot giggles. Percy just raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s between the botanical gardens and the stadium. Shouldn’t be more than a 15 minute bus ride from here, and the school bus comes through this area, stops at the end of the street.” Percy nods.

He feels pretty hopeful about getting Margot into school, and he hopes it goes better for her than it ever did for him. His only concern is having her out of his sight, but considering Percy will be cutting back on hours and working exclusively nights for the most part, maybe he’ll just hang around the school. Maybe Jason has a car Percy can borrow to cut out the bus, too.

“I don’t like that we won’t have eyes on her,” Nico says suddenly into a mug of coffee he procured from nowhere. 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Percy agrees, shaking Margot’s head with his hand before leaving her in peace. “But I can probably get away with hanging around the area. Maybe give her my phone and see if Leo can hook me up, or something. Margot needs a weapon, too, but I don’t have anything small enough.”

“I can drop by camp,” Nico suggests, yawning. “Pick up a dagger or something.”

“Your camp just casually has daggers for children?” Jason interrupts, looking between the 3 of them.

“Well, yeah,” Will says. “How else are they supposed to kill monsters?” Jason just shakes his head and settles more comfortably into his chair, reaching out and snagging several pieces of french toast from the center of the table and shoving them unceremoniously into his mouth.  Margot wrinkles her nose at him, and he wrinkles his right back over chipmunk cheeks stuffed grotesquely with half-chewed bread. Tim sighs like this is a common occurrence.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Percy says to him. “Do you ever not wear suits?”

Jason huffs a laugh from his spot across the table, and Tim shoots him a dirty look. 

“I was in a hurry to avoid that meeting with the shareholder I told you about,” He explains. “And also to tell you about the thing at the docks.”

“Walker?” Jason asks, raising one eyebrow. Tim sighs minutely, and his older brother’s mouth quirks up in a tiny smile. “Unfortunate.”

“Shareholder?” Will echoes. “Where do you work?”

“Wayne Enterprises,” Tim states, finally reaching for food. Percy’s brow furrows a little in recognition- he’s familiar with that company. It’s hard not to be when it’s the tallest building in Gotham, and there was one in New York, too. It’s a pretty large operation, as far as he can tell, because he’s even heard Rachel mention the name in passing. 

“What do you do?” Will asks.

“Majority shareholder,” Tim mutters.

“I’m sorry,” Percy says, setting down his fork and turning to look at Tim directly. “But doesn’t that mean you’re like, in charge of everything?” Sometimes Percy would be on an Iris message with Rachel when she’d just start infodumping about her father’s shit company, and sometimes he would even comprehend what she was saying- so he’s pretty certain that Tim holds more power than a CEO, although that can’t be right. He’s only a teenager, and there’s no way he has that kind of money. Sure, Jason owns a building, but he’s a crime lord . He probably, like, sells drugs or something. 

Meanwhile, Will inhaled powdered sugar and started to choke. Nico pats his back unnecessarily hard to clear his airways while Percy snickers into his french toast. Jason and Tim watch him concernedly. When he finally stops wheezing, he clears his throat. His watery eyes are wide with shock.

“Tim. As in Timothy Drake- Wayne ,” Will breathes. 

“‘Wayne’ of ‘Wayne Enterprises’? Your name’s on t-” Percy starts. He’s cut off by Will abruptly turning to Jason and pointing.

“Jason Todd ? The dead child celebrity!?” Jason winces. 

“You’re famous?” Margot asks excitedly, standing up from her chair. 

“No!” Jason snaps. “How do you know this!? Aren’t you off the internet?”

“Yes!” Will refutes immediately. “And just because I don’t have a phone doesn’t mean I’m disconnected!”

“Whatever!” Jason rolls his eyes. “Emphasis on dead , by the way.”

“Kind of got that by the way you’re a crime lord,” Will retorts. Percy just sighs.

“We know plenty of famous people, Will,” Percy says tiredly. “Can we move onto more important things, like why Tim is here and not stuck in a meeting?”

“Bold of you to say we when you’re one of them,” Nico says under his breath. Percy narrows his eyes at him. Margot turns her glittering eyes on Percy.

“ You’re famous?” She asks. 

“No.”

“Okay, Hero of Olympus,” Will says. Percy kicks him under the table.

“There are at least 6 other people with that title,” Percy grumbles, pointing at Will with his fork. “You’re dating one of them.”

“I don’t remember becoming Praetor in a week or, oh, being offered immor-” Nico starts. Percy holds up a hand and is mildly shocked when the other actually stops talking, although he gives Percy an evil grin, like it was his plan all along.

“Praetor, like, leader of the entire Roman Legion?” Tim clarifies. “And you’re taken aback by my leading a company?”

“Oh, so we’re breezing past the immortality, then?” Jason says politely.

“I’m not Praetor-” Percy starts, directing his fork tongs at Tim.

“Anymore,” Nico mutters.

“And I said no,” Percy continues, giving Jason a pointed look before returning to his food. “I’m not even Roman, and I’m definitely not a god. Jesus.”

“You’re not Jesus, either,” Will says smartly. Percy gives him one singular look that causes Will to retreat back to his french toast. It does little to deter Nico.

“Some would disagree,” He says sardonically.

“Jesus versus Percy, who would win?” Will asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. Nico frowns down at his plate, and for a second Percy’s sure he’ll end this line of thinking here. 

Then Nico looks back up with a twinkle in his eye, and Percy pushes his plate aside to lay his head flat on the table, unsure why he ever had hope in the first place. 

“Percy, obviously,” Nico says.

“But Jesus can turn water into wine.”

“Still has water in it though, right?” Nico’s brows furrow. “You know how Katara can blood bend in the Last Airbender?”

Percy’s stomach abruptly shrivels up and his french toast threatens to climb back up his throat. He carefully takes his hand out of his pocket and far away from Riptide, swallowing.

“Woah, I never thought about that,” Will says with realization. “The possibilities are kind of endless.” He thinks about rivers of poison climbing back upstream and his blood vessels- of which he is suddenly, frighteningly, impossibly aware of- tighten.

“Not all liquids have water,” Jason chimes in to say. He jerks his head at Percy. “That’s his thing, right?” Percy thinks of the feeling of holding bodily fluids in one place, of focusing on the liquid not a part of but partially inside of another living body. He thinks about the sound of choking, crying, drowning. He sits up slowly.

“That’s true…” Nico says consideringly. “Percy, have you ever tried to cont-” Nico starts, but when his eyes land on Percy, his voice falters. 

Percy, who realizes his face has likely gone stone cold. His entire body is still in his seat, his spine ramrod straight and his shoulders set. He forces his eyes to meet Nico’s.

“Doesn’t need to be water,” He says, admitting it out loud and acknowledging it for the first time since he did it a year ago. With the acceptance comes an icy cold feeling starting like a seed in the center of his sternum and crawling slowly outwards. 

“...How do you know?” Nico asks after a moment. Will nudges him, shaking his head harshly, but Percy’s already answering.

“Last July,” He hears himself say distantly. “We needed the Death Mist to go through Night’s mansion and get to the Doors. Akhlys tried to betray us.” He finds Nico’s eyes again, dragging his gaze from the table. “I didn’t let her.”

“You went through the Mansion of Night ??” Nico whispers, paler than he was a couple minutes ago. “You beat Akhlys? ”

“She was going to drown us in poison,” Percy says. He can see her now, bloody and ghoul-like and horrifying to take in. “There was just so much, streams of it, rivers… and I thought, I can control rivers. And she was- she’s just crying so much because of the fumes, and it was the closest thing to water I’d felt since falling into the fucking Cocytus with Annabeth when we first touched down after the Parthenos.” He laughs humorlessly. “Of course it was Misery. I wanted to see…” is voice tapers off. I wanted to see her suffer like we had suffered , he wants to say. His eyes drift over to Margot, who has gone back to her coloring book. “It doesn’t matter. There’s only one other time I did it, anyway, and it was also in the Pit. You know where all the rivers meet, in the center, next to where the doors were chained?”

“Percy…” Nico closes his eyes. He looks downright sickly now.

“For those of us who haven’t been there,” Jason starts, the barest hint of hesitation in his tone.

Percy swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth in the wake of his nausea. 

“His veins. His heart. I- when Annabeth-” Percy’s mouth stumbles over itself. “The Phlegethon.”

Nico shakes his head, his eyes still closed. “That should be impossible.”

He shrugs, trying unsuccessfully to shake off the sudden, terrible weight that’s fallen atop his shoulders, not unlike the sky.

“Maybe I am better than Jesus,” Percy jokes weakly. It breaks a startled laugh out of Jason and a huff from Nico. Will’s eyes jump between Percy’s with great concern and Tim looks lost in thought again, like he’s trying to figure out what the rivers are, or why it should be impossible. “Anyways. Maybe it’s just Pit specific. I’m gonna go wash up and take a nap while you guys do your little research and strategy thing.” He waves his hand in Jason and Tim’s direction as he gets to his feet, trying not to look too hasty about it. “See ya.”

He hightails it out of there as fast as possible. The walk from Nico and Will’s front door to under the steady stream of near boiling water from his showerhead is a blur. He sinks down until he’s curled into a ball and lets the stream wash over him, closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to dissolve into nothing.

Chapter Text

July 18th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T. (Several Hours Later)

Percy wakes up shivering.

The shower has long since gone cold, and if he could get pruny, he’s pretty sure his entire body would be shriveled up. He groggily reaches up and turns the faucet off, momentarily lying back against the wet porcelain in the ensuing silence. 

Eventually he stands, groaning at the soreness of his joints from being folded up in a tiny bathtub for a prolonged amount of time. He rolls his neck with a sigh, pulling his shoulders back in a stretch. A restlessness buzzes insistently in his bones, his fingers itching to twine around the cool plastic of Riptide and feel her become metal in his hands. He wants a fight again. 

He opens the door slowly, tilting his head when he doesn’t hear any other signs of life in the apartment, before slipping into his room for a shirt, which he never got around to putting on after the pool last night. When he swings the door open he falters, the corner of his mouth twitching up at the sight of Margot sprawled across the bed, passed out cold. He quietly extracts a shirt from the duffle in the corner before leaving and closing the door a crack behind him. From the mouth of the hallway he can make out the stove top clock, which reads 12:48. He’s wrestling on the wife beater right as there’s stirring from the couch, and he looks over. 

Tim and Nico are curled up against opposite armrests. Tim is slowly unfurling, somehow awoken by the whisper of noise Percy’s made, while Nico predictably sleeps like a dead body that hasn’t hit rigor mortis yet. The former opens his eyes and, for some reason, is bright red by the time Percy gets the shirt over his head. 

“Hey again,” Percy says. “You guys make a plan?” He hears Tim follow him into the kitchen and hoists himself onto the counter, finally reveling in the feeling of Riptide spinning comfortably between his fingers.

“Yeah, but first,” Tim sits on the counter next to him and looks over with a serious expression on his sharp face. “Are you okay?”

The ice that had unthawed a little from the shower starts frosting over his sternum again, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Percy says. “The Pit just sucks.” He gets to his feet again rather quickly, too restless to stay still for long.

Nico appears at the doorway like a specter. He always looks worse when he first wakes up, a lot more like his father.

The 15 year old glares at Percy for a long moment before rubbing a hand over his face. 

“You look like shit,” He tells Percy.

“Man,” Percy sighs, unable to refute it. 

“Wanna spar?”

And just like that, a grin overtakes Percy’s likely haggard face, and he straightens up.

“ Fuck yes,” He says quickly, forgetting momentarily about Tim as he follows Nico to the living room. Without prompting, he pushes the couch to one end of the room and the kitchen table to the other, opening it up to a wide enough space that hopefully there will be no collateral. Meanwhile, Nico wakes up Margot and deposits her on the couch, and when Percy shoots him a questioning look, Nico grins at him and pulls out a tiny celestial bronze dagger- probably barely meeting the qualifications to be called a dagger- that’s wicked sharp and glowing slightly.

“Spar, then train?” Nico suggests. “Don’t you miss teaching?” He pulls his own sword out of the shadows behind the couch. Percy uncaps Riptide, his blood singing in his ears. Fighting with real stakes is one thing, but all he feels is pure elation at the idea of a no-strings clash.

“Spar first,” Percy confirms, flipping Riptide once. Nico sets the dagger down beside Margot. “I’ll try not to embarrass you too badly in front of the kiddo.”

“Get him!” Margot cheers unspecifically. Percy chooses to believe she’s talking to him as he and Nico begin to revolve around the room, each waiting for the other to make the first move. 

Finally, Nico stalks forward in that frightening way he does in a real battle, slashing upwards in an unpredictable pattern. Percy immediately counters, trying hard to stifle a smile as he parries and moves in with his own strike to the ribs, which Nico easily dodges. They’re both moving at half speed as their swords glance off each other, like a warmup, like an opportunity for their bystanders to easily follow each blow. They both bob and weave, almost lazily sparring, before Margot boos from the side.

“You’re not even trying,” Nico complains. Percy rolls his eyes.

“Says you, Ghost King,” He retorts, grinning when Nico groans and presses in. Suddenly they’re sparring for real, and Percy forgets where he is. He can feel the fresh Camp breeze as he knocks Nico’s sword bodily aside and narrowly avoids leaving a gash across the younger boy’s chest. There’s the smell of strawberries on the air as he bends his spine back to duck under what could’ve been a potentially fatal blow from Nico, allowing himself to follow the bend through and swing around, staying low and bringing his sword between Nico’s sword arm and his body, placing his foot on the outside of Nico’s and forcing him to freeze lest Percy free him of a limb. 

“Yield?” He suggests, grinning. Nico drops his sword, catches it with his other hand, and swings it at Percy’s head in a wide arc as a response. Percy dodges, laughing. “You totally stole that move.”

“Shouldn’t have let me watch Star Wars,” Nico says, also smiling wildly, before darting forward again. Percy sidesteps and slashes downward, the flat of his sword catching Nico in his left shoulder and causing him to stumble. Seizing the advantage, Percy swipes a foot under and allows his sword to follow Nico down, resting gently at his throat.

“Yield,” Percy repeats firmly. Nico hisses and Percy offers him his hand, helping him to his feet. “Again?”

“Let me catch my breath,” Nico mutters, sinking down onto the couch next to Margot, who’s watching with wide eyes.

“You’re going to teach me how to do that?” She asks in awe. Percy chuckles.

“Maybe not all that, but definitely that little swipe move at the end,” Percy promises. “That’s a great move to know with a dagger. Annabeth-” He falters, his sword’s tip sinking like it suddenly gained ten pounds before he powers through. “Annabeth used to use it all the time, and her main weapon was a dagger.” 

“Luke’s dagger,” Margot confirms. Percy smiles at her weakly.

“Exactly.”

Margot nods, a comically determined look on her tiny face. Percy's eyes find Tim next, and he stifles a laugh.

Tim appears to be a little blown away, looking at Percy with frighteningly sharp eyes. He licks his teeth as he stares Percy down, as if he's suddenly found the problem he's been looking for.

“Praetor,” He repeats, looking Percy up and down.

“Only for, like, two hours,” Percy says. “I don't lead that Camp.”

“No, just ours,” Nico interrupts. “Percy was only Praetor for a couple hours, but he was given that rank after a week of being there. And he's the general of our army, has been since 15.”

“I'm retired,” Percy tries.

“You will never retire.” Nico shuts him down as he gets to his feet. “You care about us.”

“I can fight and not lead.” Percy spins Riptide again before their swords meet with a clang over their voices.

“No one will fight and not follow you,” Nico says flatly. 

“Then I'll train and not fight.”

“You can't not fight, Percy.”

“I'm tired .” Percy's frustration bubbles up and over and he easily disarms Nico, forgoing any decorum and losing the elation that comes with unserious sparring. He holds his sword level to Nico's chest absentmindedly before dropping his arm. “I don't want to anymore. Why are they here ?” His voice becomes tinged with bitterness. “If they know so much about Perseus Jackson , then they should know they’re making a mistake.” The words themselves sound egotistical, but his voice is so scathing that it comes out as plain fact, an objective truth that’s backed by hard evidence. 

“Never stopped them before,” Nico says grimly, readying his weapon again despite being out of breath, likely out of practice going against another highly skilled swordsman. “We made a plan for the quest tonight. Wanna hear it?” Percy chops down at the hilt of Nico’s sword just to be petty, and Nico gives him a dirty look as he steps out of range. “Rude.”

“What’s the plan?” Percy asks as he plows forward, switching into instructor mode without being fully conscious of it. He herds Nico around subtly, tapping him lightning fast in places he’s leaving unguarded, watching closely for any consistent weak spots. Of course, Nico is very good with a sword, and so Percy does have to apply a conscious effort to defend himself as well as press the other. Nico’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to divide his attention between the speed of their exchanged blows and the conversation.

“We’re going to one of Serrado’s more locked down storage warehouses- a real one, not like-” Nico cuts himself off as he stumbles from Percy’s aggressive parry. The fact that he doesn’t pursue Nico while his guard is dropped seems to frustrate the son of Hades to no end, and he re-attacks fiercely as he continues in a grunting tone, “not like the one with the Chimera. Jason and his vigilante co- will you stop that?!” Nico deflects another of Percy’s flat-bladed taps aimed at his ribcage and jabs abruptly at his stomach with his blade. Percy simply steps to the side, catching Nico’s wrist. 

“No jabbing in a spar,” Percy reminds him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Luke tell you that?” Nico challenges, and Percy knows he’s trying to get a rise out of him. He hates that it sort of works and tries to play it off.

“Hades, no,” He snorts. “Luke was a great teacher, but you had to learn from mistakes with him.” He thinks about the spars they used to have, where Luke would land a hard hit on Percy and then heave him to his feet with a stern look, putting his training sword- and soon after, a real sword- back in his hand. “Luckily, I’m much nicer.”

Nico jerks his hand away and slashes at Percy with fervor. Percy’s sword slides neatly along the edge of his blade with a clean shnnnnk, redirecting it upwards. He slaps the flat of his blade under Nico’s armpit. 

“Dead,” Percy says. “Jason and his vigilante coworker…?”

Nico rights himself and plops down on the couch, huffing fiercely. “Cowork ers , plural. They’re gonna cover us while we go suss out the vibes.” Percy hums, idly spinning Riptide in his grip. 

“Nightwing?”

“On standby. It’s some guy called the Red Robin.” Nico’s eyebrow twitches like he has something mean to say and is holding his tongue to the best of his ability. Percy feels his frustration lift a little in the face of his own amusement. 

“Hm,” Percy says. “What interesting naming conventions. Is he Helmet’s sidekick or something? Like the Batman and his colorful jumping bean?” Tim makes a small noise, but Percy’s unable to investigate before Margot springs to her feet.

“You’ve seen Robin!?” Margot gasps, scuttling over to him. He swiftly lifts Riptide over her body as she dances around him, unconcerned at being so close to a live weapon. “He has a sword, too! Can I have a sword, Percy? Please?” She grabs onto the bottom of his shirt and pulls, stretching the thin fabric to its limit. He grins down at her.

“Dagger first, then we’ll talk,” He tells her.

“No fair.” She crosses her arms and trudges back over to the couch, pouting exaggeratedly. She climbs right up next to Tim and huffs, drawing a tiny grin out of the other spectator in the room, who up until moments ago had remained so silent and still he may as well have disappeared. “You’re only making me have a dagger because I’m a girl, like Annabeth.”

Percy and Nico both look at each other for a moment, clearly both picturing Annabeth’s face at the statement, and then immediately jumping to Thalia’s, before they both burst out into borderline giggles. 

“I promise that’s not it,” Percy assures her, coming over and crouching in front of her to look her in the eye. “Nico’s sister Hazel uses a spatha- basically a spear, and our cousin Thalia is the leader of a group of immortal girls who use all sorts of scary and awesome things. It’s just a good sized weapon to get familiar with until we can upgrade, alright?” He waits for her tiny sigh of acquiescence before standing up and ruffling her hair. He shifts his attention to Tim. 

“Wanna spar, Tim?” He asks, offering him a friendly smile. Tim’s eyes are dark and clear, crystalline and honed in like a missile on Percy. 

“I really would,” He says, standing up. “I’ll go get the sword…?” Percy nods and Tim slips out the front door. Nico turns to him, suddenly scrutinizing.

“Percy,” Nico says slowly.

“Yeah?” Percy goes into the kitchen to retrieve several water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to Nico and putting two on the couch before cracking open his own and taking a long dring.

“Do you like boys?” Percy chokes on his water and spends the next 15 seconds coughing, Nico watching him dispassionately from across the room. 

“Uh…” Percy scratches the back of his head with the butt of Riptide, suddenly extremely off-kilter. “I don’t- what makes you ask? Didn’t we-”

“Don’t go there,” Nico threatens, the room darkening briefly. “I’m asking because that boy likes you. Just saying.” 

Percy stares at him.

“What?”

“I forget sometimes that he’s dumb,” Nico sighs to Margot, who gasps in offense on Percy’s behalf. 

“Not dumb!” She tells Nico. “Just really silly.” Percy scowls at them both and tosses his water bottle on the couch as Tim walks back in.

“Who, Percy?” Tim asks, somehow immediately guessing the topic of conversation despite only having heard the last few words of it. Percy throws him a look too, Nico’s words pinballing around his head.

“Get your sword ready. I’ll show you silly,” Percy says, watching as Tim takes Nico’s place across from him and adjusts his grip on the bone sword. “Alright. Approach me like you’re going to attack.” Tim obliges, and Percy’s a little shocked to find his technique not to be terrible. It’s fast and precise, and if Percy isn’t mistaken, Tim’s used to wielding a weapon- just not this one. It’s evident in the way he treats the edges of the sword like they’re going to cut him , and not Percy- quick deflects but he misses the chance to parry in his caution. After a few minutes of Percy lightly defending from Tim’s swordplay, he catches Tim’s hilt, his fingers wrapping around Tim’s. 

“So you fight, just not with a blade,” Percy observes. Tim looks up at him, his eyes dragging away from the sword hilt. 

“I used to be in a couple of martial arts classes,” Tim says. Percy raises an eyebrow at the lie but says nothing about it, only releases the sword and steps back into position again. 

“Well,” Percy says, this time fighting offensively. “You’ll have to fight me with whatever that weapon is later. I have a feeling you’re pretty good with it?” He vaguely remembers Tim mentioning a staff- a nonlethal weapon with much longer reach and plenty of different handholds. It explains Tim’s style of not getting in as close with his sword now, not necessarily slashing but swinging , like one would with a blunt object. Indeed, as Percy blocks a chop from him, he notes the force behind the swing and the angle of the sword, which is not flat or upright so that the blade would cut Percy perfectly but instead at an angle, like Tim is uncaring about the sharpness and more focused on making contact. 

Even so, Percy already can tell Tim is valuable in a fight with the right weapon and even now, if he had to go in with Damesan’s sword, Percy would take him over nothing any day. He glances over at Nico and sees the same considering look on his face. 

“I am pretty good with it,” Tim agrees, grinning and stepping back from the fight. He pushes an errant, sweaty wisp of hair off his forehead. Percy takes a second to study him in his suit, his pretty eyes sparkling and his pale skin glowing slightly from exertion. His nimble fingers tap along the edge of his borrowed sword and his teeth flash white from the open window. 

Shit , Percy thinks, his stomach dropping momentarily in realization. Tim walks over and stands in front of him, scooping an unopened water bottle from the couch. 

“So are you going to do the whole, ‘world's most annoying sword instructor’ thing you did with Nico, or am I not there yet?” He asks, taking a drink and then crossing his arms playfully. Percy looks down at him, at his straight, dark eyebrows and his long eyelashes.

Shit , he thinks more passionately. 

“You probably want a change of clothes before we get too crazy,” Percy says, managing to sound mostly normal. “You can grab some from my apartment, if you want? Front door’s unlocked.” Although now that he thinks about it, Tim probably has his own clothes at Jason’s place. Regardless, the legacy nods, strangely bashful, and leaves. Nico looks straight at Percy and raises one judgemental eyebrow. 

“Hit you yet?” He asks dispassionately. Percy narrows his eyes scathingly at him.

“Shut up,” He grumbles, ruffling Margot’s hair. She giggles and stands up, holding the dagger out in front of her. 

“Teach me,” She demands. Percy obliges, and for the next twenty minutes they go over stances, holds, and balance. At some point, Tim rejoins the fold, and from the corner of his eye Percy can see Nico working with him on how he swings his sword. He feels a brief flare up of pride for the son of Hades- it used to be that he had no tolerance for things like teaching. Now he’s found the same error Percy was going to prioritize and is working with Tim himself, a sure sign of growth and a further display of his own skill with a blade. Eventually Margot gets frustrated and wanders off to color more pictures after making an ominous comment about the Wii in the other apartment. 

Tim finally bows out from fighting Nico after the latter uses the same swipe move Percy used on him in their own fight, leaving him on his back on the ground. Damesan’s sword lies next to him on the floor, and Nico scoops it up and flips it in his hand.

“This is weighted nicely,” He observes. “Bone?”

“Yeah, from Damesan’s drakon,” Percy says, leaning back against the wall to watch the other give it a precursory swing. Nico glances over at him.

“But you’ve never used it,” He guesses. “You’ve got that loyalty to Riptide.”

“Is naming your swords common?” Tim asks from the floor. “Or is it just the magic ones?”

Nico hums, placing the bone sword against the couch before sitting on the floor cross-legged. “Depends, really. Percy’s is just a cursed blade, pretty old, so it gets a name by default.”

“ She gets a name by default,” Percy corrects, capping Riptide and putting it away in his pocket. “Respect the sword, Neeks.”

“ Don’t call me that, ” Nico hisses, much to Percy’s amusement. “And how do you know she’s a girl?”

“Magnus’ talking sword wants her bad,” Percy says, weirdly proud about it.

“Who the fuck is Magnus?” Nico asks.

“Bad word!” Margot gasps from the side. Nico pulls out his wallet and hands her a five dollar bill, and she says nothing more about it, taking her things to another room. Apparently she’s tired of them.

“There are talking swords?” Tim asks.

“No,” Nico says with a scowl.

“Yes,” Percy contradicts. “Magnus is Annabeth’s dead cousin. He’s kind of like a ghost? Hard to explain. Anyways, his sword can talk. He’s not Greek.” Nico’s eyes widen slightly.

“Like the Kanes, then?” He asks. 

“Nah, think more Swedish,” Percy says, offering him a grin when Nico’s eyes widen further. “Yup.”

“I don’t understand anything about this conversation,” Tim admits, frustrated. Margot pats his hand sympathetically, but Percy just shakes his head.

“Topic for another day. Ready for round two?”

Tim gets to his feet the same way an old man does- with much fanfare and clearly aching knees. Nonetheless, he does a surprisingly well-executed version of Percy's sword flip once he has his borrowed blade back in hand. Percy raises an eyebrow at the gesture.

“Born ready,” Tim says, viciously determined. Percy smiles sharply at him and advances, deciding to really press him to see how he is under heat.

The answer: somehow better. As Percy applies more pressure, Tim steps up to meet him at his level. Percy is now certain, even as he disarms Tim and sends him stumbling back with a light shove, that with his weapon of choice Tim must be a fierce opponent. Not only that, but he's undeterred by defeat. He scoops his sword from the ground and attacks Percy first this time, who has no trouble deflecting the blows raining down but still marvels at the speed. He finds himself having fun, the same way he does sparring with Nico, and he doesn't realize he's started laughing until he blinks into awareness with Tim backed so far against the couch he's forced to sit down. Riptide rests gently at the hollow of this throat, both of them out of breath, although Tim moreso.

There's an impressed whistle from the edge of the room by the front door. When Percy glances over, he meets Jason's eyes, whose thick arms are crossed over his chest as he lounges against the wall.

“Wow,” Jason says. “I don't normally see Timmy get his ass kicked like that. Very cool stuff going on.”

“Wanna spar?” Percy asks, dropping Riptide and plopping down next to Tim on the couch. 

“The answer is no,” Tim warns Jason. “No, you do not want to spar with him.”

Jason laughs lightly. “I don’t know, kid. I’m pretty good with a sword.”

Percy shrugs, rolling his shoulders back. His adrenaline is still rushing and he feels like he’s warmed up now. He was going to ask for another fight with Nico- but the prospect of fighting Jason, who claims himself to be good with a blade and, with his shocking speed despite his hulking mass, Percy knows he probably isn’t bluffing- is a highly pleasing offer. At the very least, it’d be an interesting fight- one he’s very keen to have, suddenly. 

“I’m not too bad, either,” Percy says, trying to go for casual and just narrowly veering into interested. 

“That’s not a fight we should have inside,” Jason says, waving him off. Percy scowls and then remembers he’s trying to play it cool and turns away, locking eyes with Nico and pointing at him with Riptide. 

“You, now.” Nico makes a face at him but Percy stares persistently. “You were way too sloppy with your defense earlier. Let’s go.” 

“Alright, Dad , chillax,” Nico mutters, standing up. He looks over at Jason as he stands across from Percy, swinging his sword reflexively like a batter would before stepping into the box. “Where’s Will?” 

Jason gestures to the hallway. “Brought a friend, making sure she’s welcome.”

“‘She?’” Tim echoes.

“Grandpa knows the word chillax ?” Percy goads, ignoring the Gothamites for a second. Nico snaps his head over to him, a grim expression on his face, before looking back at Jason again.

“Bring them in,” Nico says darkly. “Maybe Will’ll finally see me beat Percy.” 

“Keep dreaming, Death Boy,” Percy provokes impertinently. 

“I’ll show you death, Seaweed Brain,” Nico snarls, and lunges. 

The ensuing clash of metal is so loud it drowns out the front door opening and distracts from any greetings or introductions. Their blades cross and sparks literally fly, knuckles nearly grazing each other near their hilts, locked together. 

“You always use that disarm,” Nico tells him. Percy smiles. 

“Yeah,” He says, and then twists his blade until both of their swords point directly down, and puts all force into driving them toward the ground. Nico relinquishes his grip, presumably to knock Percy off balance, but instead he forces it back toward himself in order to grab the hilt of Nico’s sword, now duel-wielding. “Always works, is the thing.”

“Overkill,” Will calls from the side, striding over and plucking Nico’s blade from Percy’s hand and returning it to its rightful owner. “Not even training.”

“Wasn’t really supposed to be,” Nico tells him, looking over at Percy.

“Yeah,” Percy admits. “But in my defense, I thought you’d last longer.”

“That’s what she said,” Says the newcomer from Jason’s side, effectively sidelining swordplay for the moment, despite the downright Evil look Nico sends his way promising vengeance. She swings a backpack off her shoulders and drops it at her feet. Percy studies her, sure that she’s familiar.

“Steph,” Tim says, sounding a little strange. She walks over to him and sits down at his side, leaning against his shoulder. 

“I know you,” Percy says, snapping his fingers. “The thrift store. Blonde lady. Sorry for running into you.”

She waves him away in a similar fashion to the way Jason had done. 

“No biggie,” Steph says, smiling at him in a friendly way before turning on Tim. Her smile becomes a touch more malicious. “Nice clothes, buddy. Where’d those come from?”

Tim’s face stays completely blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You will.” With that rather ominous statement, she springs to her feet. “Where’s the little lady? I want some one on one girl time. Can’t be great stuck with all this testosterone.”

“Margot,” Percy calls. “Someone’s here to see you!” For a second, there’s silence, and then the thundering of tiny footsteps as she races down the hall and careens into Percy’s legs. She looks out from behind his hip and sends a beaming smile to Jason. 

“Hi Jason!” She says a little shyly, and everyone’s heart visibly melts. Her bir brown eyes drift over to Steph next. “Hello, blonde lady.”

Steph crouches down in front of Margot and sticks out her hand. 

“Hey, you’re Margot, right? I’m Steph.” Margot takes it gingerly, tiny fingers dwarfed even by Steph’s smaller hands. 

“Hi, Steph,” Margot says, her voice quiet as she steps carefully out from behind Percy’s leg. Percy places his hand gently on top of her head, and her shoulders drop from her ears. “I like your hair.”

Percy’s heart twists as he thinks of Annabeth’s hair, those natural princess curls falling around her face, and he knows Margot would have loved her. Her hair was always beautiful, so yellow and long. He wondered often why she never cut it because she complained all the time about it being annoying to take care of, but she didn’t ever divulge the reason why she kept it long. Maybe he’ll ask her the next time he dreams about her. If he dreams about her again. And that’s pretending that she’s the real Annabeth and not a made-up version of his dead girlfriend that literally lives in his dreams. His adrenaline seeps out of him not unlike it did upon falling into the Cocytus, and very faintly he can hear waves, like standing in the foyer of the Big House.

“-Like doing?” Steph is asking Margot. 

“I like climbing and drawing and fighting,” Margot says in one breath. Percy wants to smile. He can see her little head under his hand, but he can’t quite feel the fine strands of her clean hair against his skin. Steph, however, beams at her. 

“Fantastic,” She says, sounding triumphant. “We are gonna get along so well. I heard you had Just Dance somewhere? Or Wii Sports would be awesome, too.”

“I like tennis and boxing on that one,” Margot says, grinning at Steph. 

“I like baseball,” Tim says from… somewhere else in the room. Percy’s fighting the wave of misery that surged up out of nowhere to drown him, ironically enough. 

Steph and Margot’s faces sour in unison. 

“That one sucks,” Steph says. “It’s so repetitive.” 

“Almost as bad as golf,” Margot agrees. 

“But you can never go wrong with bowling,” The blonde finishes, straightening up. “Well? Let’s go- just you and me, for now, if that’s alright. A break from the boys.” She directs the unspoken question at Percy, who blinks at the acknowledgement. 

“Uh, if it’s cool with Margot,” Percy says, a beat too late. His eyes pass over the room and catalogue the sudden attention of every single occupant. “But if we could exchange phone numbers first, that’d be great.”

“Wow, Momma Bird, we’ll be in the next room over.” Despite her teasing remark, Steph holds a hand out for his phone and, although making a face at the model, obligingly inputs her number and texts herself. “There we go, squared away. Let’s go, Margot!” She waltzes past Jason and shoots a look Percy can’t determine at Tim before sparing a brief glance back to make sure Margot is following. Once she sees the little girl excitedly tailing her, she picks up her pace again, and they vanish down the hall and presumably through Percy’s front door. 

“Okay, Percy?” Will asks casually, and Percy forces his eyes to find him across the room by Nico’s side, clearly worried and failing at hiding it. 

“All good. Adrenaline wore off,” He says, a half truth. “So, where is this warehouse, besides by the harbor?” He lets his gaze slide right over Nico and land on Jason, who looks at him impassively. Percy’s stomach settles at his flat mouth and blank stare, and alright, he can admit it, Jason is a good friend at this point. Fighting together and getting a triage from a guy will do that to you, he guesses. 

“I can show you,” Jason says. “If you want some fresh air.” 

Percy opens his mouth to agree right as his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. He frowns and pulls it out, the groove between his brows only deepening at the caller ID. He answers it and holds it up to his ear, shrugging at Jason. 

“Hello?”

“ Jackson. You’ve got a personal quest in about an hour. It’s a full 12, time and a half, warehouse gig, your usual. In? ” His manager sounds riled up and irritated, like he doesn’t want to be talking to Percy if he can help it. 

“I’m kind of preoccupied tonight, Bill,” Percy says flatly.

“ This the kind of request you don’t turn down, kid, trust me, ” Bill says into the phone, slower and dead serious. “ You’re gonna take the gig, and you’re gonna take the next week off, half time. Alright? ”

“Alright,” Percy agrees, confused. 

“ Good deal. I’ll text you the address. ” The line clicks and Percy stares down at the phone, baffled.

“What the hell,” He mutters. Jason pushes off the wall and ambles over as the others exchange looks. Tim follows him shortly after, peering over Percy’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Jason asks, stopping in front of him.

“My boss,” Percy says, miffed. “He was made an offer I literally could not refuse. But the good news is, I get next week off. So that’s cool, I guess?” His phone vibrates again and the text is an address not terribly far from his old apartment, right up against the sea wall. 

“Wait. Can I-” Tim reaches for the phone and Percy drops it in his hand. “Thanks. Yeah, that’s the warehouse that the deal’s happening in tonight.”

Percy looks over at him, frowning. If the plan is for Nico to investigate whatever ‘cargo’ is being transported, but there’s an active deal happening, one that specifically requested Percy, then Serrado is most definitely behind it and possibly even aware of outside meddling. Having a meetup to arrange terms or agree on stock doesn’t normally happen at warehouses- at least, that’s not how Kronos’ or Gaea’s armies played it. If they were smart, they would do business away from what they had, and only offer a sample of the product. Unless it’s a trap for the second party. 

Or the uninvited third. All of a sudden, Percy has a very bad feeling about this.

Chapter Text

July 18th, Gotham City, New Jersey, 01 A.T. 

“So what’s the plan now?” Percy asks, walking over to the couch and sinking down defeatedly. “Because I’m really confused as to what’s even happening.”

“This kind of changes it,” Tim says, grimacing. “You’ll have to stay completely out of it. Nico’ll still investigate whatever the goods in the warehouse are, and Jason and Red Robin will watch in on the deal.”

“Serrado’s going to be there,” Percy guesses. “Any ideas who the other person is? And does anyone else feel like this is a trap? Oh, and another thing.” He points at Tim. “Where are you in all of this?” He’ll eat his sword if Tim is staying out of it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Tim says, like a liar. Percy scowls at him.

“If you show up for this fight in a stupid suit again, I’ll throttle you,” He threatens. Jason snorts and Tim shoots a dirty look at him. 

“Let’s focus on what will happen,” Tim suggests. “We don’t actually know that it’ll be Serrado. If he has some sort of representative, especially considering the possibility that it is a trap, given the slightly unstrategic location, then the other side might, too. Our best hope right now is listening in. I’d put a bug on you, but microphones don’t mesh very well with your whole anti-technology problems.”

“And you know this how?” Percy asks, already knowing the answer. Tim glances away, back at him, and away again, his whole expression shifty.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Tim says dodgily. 

“I mean, it’s okay to admit you’re a stalker,” Will says, eating a cheese stick he must’ve procured from the kitchen at some point. 

“He’s a security guard for a bunch of shady people!” Tim points out defensively. “Who knows what information I could’ve gathered if it only picked up more than Burger King headset COD rage audio from Percy?”

Percy snickers with vindictive glee, imagining how awful it must’ve been for Tim to attempt to listen in to anything he said. 

“Well, Jason and his sidekick will be there, anyway,” Nico says, waving a hand. Tim’s face shrinks inward as Jason guffaws, slapping one knee obnoxiously. 

“So true,” He agrees, smiling giddily like it’s his favorite day ever.

“I’m pretty sure he explicitly refused to be your sidekick,” Tim says, his teeth bared in a grimace that’s borderline a snarl. Percy inwardly wonders at the animosity as Jason waves a flippant hand.

“Semantics,” He says dismissively, still grinning. “Percy, you want a ride to work?”

“Should I roll up to the work site not in public transportation like every other time but instead with a known crime lord in a car?” Percy gives him a deadpan look. “Gee, I dunno.”

“Alright, smartass,” Jason says mildly. “Just offering. I’m going to go prep my shit. If they’re calling you in this early, something might happen.” Tim digs into his borrowed pockets and pulls out a small ear plug.

“Comm,” Tim says a little snappily. Jason ruffles his hair as he sticks it in his own pocket. Tim ignores him in favor of passing the little devices to Nico and Will as well.

“Do I get a comm?” Percy asks.

“Too conspicuous,” Tim says, shaking his head. Percy sighs forlornly and wanders off to get ready for work. Usually the dress code is jeans and a dark hoodie, so he doesn’t have to do much before he’s waving goodbye to the group, which has gathered around the kitchen table where Tim has magically acquired a laptop, and out the door. 

The bus ride to the warehouse goes by quietly, or as quietly as it gets in Gotham. For the next couple hours, Percy floats around an industrial area right alongside the giant wall the river laps at. He can feel how dirty the water is, and how uncontrollable, almost like it's got its own River Hudson consciousness down there. He creeps a little closer.

He wonders if all major rivers can manifest corporeal forms and have consciousnesses, like Tiber in Rome with Annabeth, or during the first war with the sand dollar deal. He can’t help but wonder about the Styx and its counterparts deeper under the main river, then again about Gotham’s East River on the other side of the wall, singing to him like the sirens in the Sea of Monsters. He turns away, exhaling forcefully. If he can tell from here the water’s filthy, he can only imagine swimming in it, breathing it in, eugh. It’s an angry river for a reason, poisoned by the city’s malice. He wonders what a good sand dollar would do to it, considering it’s bordering the Atlantic. 

Then he gets rotated to just outside the warehouse at sundown, which is equally as frustrating as being in a remote cement clearing because he’s just out of reach of information and also, possibly, Nico. It grates on his nerves to stand antsily shifting foot to foot with Riptide heavy in his pocket, waiting for something to happen in the silent evening. His mind wanders to the subject of Tim, and Annabeth. 

Because he still sorely misses her- he’ll never be over her absence. And that in and of itself is enough to make him hesitate analyzing his strange attraction to Tim, let alone the fact that oh, hey, he’s a he. But he’s pretty, and smart, and really good at fighting, and he’s got secrets, and Percy loves a challenge. On the other hand, would that be using him? Being his only connection to his godly heritage, dangling the knowledge of camp and their history over his head with the condition of flirting indefinitely because he’s pretty sure he’ll never be over his dead girlfriend, and if he could he’d walk right into the underworld with a lute like Orpheus and rescue her, he would, except she died in Tartarus, and does that mean her soul is still in Tartarus? Or did Tartarus absorb her forever like he did to the Titans? The form of her in his dreams is a delusional apparition th-

“Jackson, pay attention,” His coworker snaps, breaking him out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Judging by the moon’s barely visible position overhead, it’s probably around midnight, which means he’s only got two hours left on shift, and also that the car whose headlights that just washed over them must be the second of three parties (four? Is Percy his own party, or does he rope in with the third? Oh gods, is he a part of the first party in this case?). He shakes his head and absentmindedly thinks about Adderall as several large men climb from the large, sleek black SUV. One of them, the shortest, has sunglasses on. Percy privately believes it’s overkill considering how dark Gotham already is, especially at night. 

The doors between him and the other guard open abruptly and Serrado himself strides out with an entourage to accompany him. Percy scowls at his suited back as he rolls to a stop in front of Sunglasses.

“Carmine Falcone,” Serrado says haughtily, then pauses, leaning closer. “Is what I would say if he was here. Who are you?”

Sunglasses straightens Serrado’s collar in a bold move Percy wishes he could respect.

“Relax, Albert,” Says the man in a faint Italian accent. “We’re all friends here. Carmine sent me here to get a feel for your practices. I’m Mario Falcone, his son.” He holds out a big hand for Serrado to shake, which he does with little hesitation.

“As long as your Roman Empire throws in with me, it doesn’t matter,” Serrado seems to decide before turning around and looking right at Percy. “Let’s take this discussion away from the merchandise. I do believe I told you I had a demonstration.” He begins leading Mario and his lackeys closer to the clearing Percy was watching earlier before glancing over his shoulder at Percy.

“We’ll need guards,” Serrado says mildly, waving him and his coworker over. Percy scowls at him and only receives a wink in return. Weird. 

Serrado has them both stop at the edge of the clearing as he draws Mario in near a large shipping crate. A piece of gravel hits Percy in the center of his cow lick and he turns around and up. 

Helmet’s glowing eyes blink at him and in the next moment, the guard next to him gets pulled up and vanishes with the whisper of a scream. Moments later, the doors to the warehouse slam open again, and a swarm of men dressed slightly better than Percy pour out with many, many guns. Serrado and Mario glance over before laughing richly amongst themselves, like vigilante trouble is a normal Tuesday. Hey, Percy thinks, maybe there’s so many heroes in Gotham that it is a normal Tuesday, but in that case he wonders what motivates someone to do crime if the likelihood they’re getting fatally shot or a permanent injury is so great. 

Nico stumbles out behind the crowd, looking shockingly exhausted. Behind him, there’s a roar, and he scrambles further away from the warehouse and shadow travels. Percy looks frantically around for him, but he’s distracted by the sound of four boots dropping onto the concrete near Serrado and Mario, right into the hoard of halfwits.

Red Robin is much shorter than Jason, Percy notes, standing there unsure of what to do as the two vigilantes engage, but he’s damn fast with that staff. He moves with a fluid grace Percy attributes to martial arts; not like Helmet’s brutal efficiency, but more of a dance. 

Serrado’s laugh pulls his attention away, and he watches the god pat Mario on the shoulder as they watch the chaos.

“You know mortals and their interference,” Serrado says, waving a flippant hand. “This was all a part of the plan, so you know my operations are above little boys in costumes. I have a real demonstration of heroism for you, just as promised. I just have to, ah, what’s the expression? Poke the hornet’s nest.” Percy has a very bad feeling about that statement too. 

He shifts, finally pulling out Riptide and giving up on staying out of the fight as instructed. 

The side of his face lights up and he turns towards the source.

“Oh shit,” He says, realizing he’s the hornet’s nest right as a garbage truck rams head first into him. For a second, he’s too stunned to even react, pinned to the front of the massive vehicle as it careens into the sea wall and he’s momentarily squished between thousands of pounds of metal and… more metal. Then the truck breaks through the wall, and he sinks under the weight of it on top of him. 

For a second, all the pain from the experience rushes in like the bubbles racing to the surface around him, and he just floats, helpless. He slowly crawls back into his mind, and it’s not a pretty scene.

Did he just hit me with a garbage truck ? Percy thinks, mad, and then, did he just hit me with a garbage truck into this filthy fucking river for the sole purpose of pissing me off ?

Because he’ll hand it to Serrado. Consider the hornet’s nest sufficiently poked. He’s not sure if it's his own anger or the rivers’, but Percy’s imbued with a homicidal rage he’s been bereft of for maybe too long. His eyes find the garbage truck under water, and with minimal effort he launches it out of the river and straight back through the giant hole in the wall he came from. As soon as he can move his limbs again, he drags himself out of the water, Riptide first. 

Soaked because he didn’t have time to consider staying dry, smelly because the water is disgusting, and pissed and possibly injured because he got hit by a fucking truck, Percy looks hungrily for a fight. 

There, just past where the truck landed, Serrado and Mario stand behind several of Mario’s big men. Percy takes one step towards them before hell breaks loose for the second time.

And by hell, he means the Nemean Lion bounding out of the warehouse, slashed up (likely by Nico’s sword) and pissed off, just like Percy.

He can’t help it. He laughs. 

“Really?” He yells at Serrado. “Get original! I beat this when I was 14!”

“Though not with an appreciative audience, I’d wager!” Serrado calls back, pulling out a gun and unloading harmless rounds into the Lion’s side, who doesn’t flinch or even look in his direction. To Mario, he continues speaking, likely explaining the nature of the Lion’s pelt. 

“Audience, yes,” Percy says, dodging two massive paw swipes a little sloppily. “Appreciative? You’ll have to ask Atlas. I hear you can find him holding up the- woah !” He narrowly dodges a projectile that didn’t come from the Lion and looks around. A second later, a tiny silhouette appears on top of a nearby shipping crate. He wants to call out, but unfortunately he’s a little preoccupied. He rolls under another side swipe. At his side, Red Robin appears.

“Percy!” He says, his tone weirdly robotic like he’s got some sort of modulator on. “Are you okay?!”

“Not really the-” He slashes, catching the Lion harmlessly on its maw. “Time! I do have a question for you, though!” He stabs uselessly at the Lion, stalling for time.

“What?” Red Robin asks, also swinging at the Lion.

“Are you Red Helmet’s sidekick or is it an affiliation to the restaurant chain?” Percy asks completely seriously, pausing his fighting for purely comedic purposes. Red Robin stops too, turning to look over at him. 

“I hate you,” Red Robin mutters, which for some reason sounds and feels like a hard won victory. Unfortunately Percy and his new comically named friend are too busy getting tossed by a giant invulnerable Lion for him to appreciate it. 

“Red Robin!” A shrill voice cries angrily across the battlefield. Percy ignores it, still pissed off for all his joking. He flips Riptide once and walks slowly back to the fight. 

The Lion doesn’t even bother going after Red Robin or the little sword wielding child he’s been joined by. Instead, it mirrors Percy, languidly returning to a fighting stance as they square off against each other.

“You remember me?” Percy taunts. “Bet you remember the taste of freeze-dried ice cream.” 

The Lion roars and charges, claws leaving much deeper gouges in the cement than the Chimera. Which reminds him. “You're way more lame than the last lion I fought. You can't even breathe fire!” 

He almost doesn’t avoid the next snap of its jaws, Riptide grazing a single thin gash along its gums. Blood dribbles onto the sidewalk and the Lion looks down at it like it's shocked. 

Nico appears at Percy's side, and he holds himself back from visibly jumping. He's holding himself a bit funny, leaned a little to the side with an arm gingerly pressed against his stomach.

“What's wrong with you and why aren't you home?” Percy asks, his voice coming out casual but his meaning anything but. 

“Caught a bullet to the ribs,” Nico admits. “Regular one and a graze, so don't even try to send me home. I heard about the last fight you had with this guy. Same strategy?”

“Yeah, but I'm not seeing many choking hazards around here,” Percy says, and then Nico and him are jumping in opposite directions as the Lion's massive paws land hard enough to crack concrete right where they were two seconds ago. He watches as Nico struggles to get up, and so does the Lion. 

“Hey!” He shouts to no avail as the creature advances on Nico, who finally gets to his feet unsteadily with his sword in one hand. Percy feels an overwhelming, sickening sense of fear and fury.

 Inside of him, that little tug of pressure becomes one great pull before it abruptly snaps . 

With sound not unlike the Lion's roar, the river climbs over the massive sea wall, hundreds of feet in the air, and crashes angrily down on top of the Lion. The water is moving so quickly it pummels the cement, like a pressure washer with several tons more pressure. When the water clears the Lion is gone, its pelt left in a big,white-gray spot surrounded by filth from the river. 

Percy forgets about his spoils of war and his allies as his vision tunnels on Serrado, who has been abandoned by his mortal friends. Percy doesn't care. He advances, the hole in the sea wall causing the river to fill up the clearing, already up to his ankles. Percy strides soundlessly on top of the surface, unimpeded by the water under his shoes. Serrado holds up both hands.

“What doesn't kill you-” He starts placatingly, a small tremble in his voice.

“Will kill you instead,” Percy snarls. He pushes off the water leaps , landing a foot in front of the god. 

Percy rests Riptide at one side of his neck, a promise of decapitation. “Who. Are you .” 

“Out of time, it seems,” Serrado manages, staggering back and getting his pants all wet. “Thankfully, my luck has always been rather prosperous . HA!” He drops to the ground, and before Percy can even consider using the water to strangle him or hold him still, the shipping container at his back bursts open- literally. A bomb must go off because Percy is flung yards away, slamming against the sea wall again. He bounces off and lands on his hands and knees, groaning. When he looks up through blurry vision, Serrado is gone, and he slams a fist into the concrete under him.

Around him, Red Robin has Nico's arm over his shoulder and is supporting most of his weight while Helmet jogs over to Percy. Far above, on top of the warehouse, he can faintly see two silhouettes- one lithe, vaguely familiar figure and the other much, much smaller and hardly even visible shadow. On the ground, near the Nemean Lion's pelt, the little jumping bean stands with his sword at his side. Percy pushes to his feet, staving off the vertigo through pure spite.

“Holy shit,” Jason says, stopping in front of him and bracing a hand on his shoulder. “Dude. You just ate a fucking grabage truck to the face. And then fought a giant lion. And then ate an explosion. You tryin’ to one up me or somethin’?” 

Percy grins tiredly at him.

“You should've seen me in Alaska,” He says. “Destroyed half the Hubbard and helped save Death. Pretty cool stuff.” 

“Slaughtering an animal is not cool !” Jumping bean hisses, suddenly standing right beside Jason and clearly scaring the crap out of both of them. “Ready your blade, cretin! I will show you the error of your ways.” He holds his katana out in front of him. Percy looks at Jason and then back at the kid.

“I'm totally down to spar,” Percy says. “But I kind of just got blown up and squished and stuff. Y'know how it is. Can we reschedule?” 

The little guy hisses at him and charges, slipping around Jason at his body's barest suggestion of stepping between the two of them. Percy deflects several hard blows, backing up against the sea wall again.

“Kid,” he tries. “I'm not your enemy.” He can feel that pressure building up in him again, thinking about Serrado getting away, about him having the audacity to hit him with a fucking truck into his own damn domain, only to run away - and now a child who should be his ally is trying to fight him.

“You imbecile,” The small traffic light hisses. “You have slain a magnificent creature, and for that you shall pay. You are my enemy.”

“Can you hang on for a sec?” Percy says, deflecting what would’ve been a critically wounding injury. He’s pretty sure the Batman has a thing about hurting people severely and, y’know, killing them. Normally, Percy would say rock on and all that to rebelling. 

Normally, Percy doesn’t feel like killing an immortal. 

He uses his (Luke’s) signature disarm and pulls the katana right out of the kid’s furious little paws, but it does little to deter him as he lunges for Percy’s neck , what the hell. Percy throws him bodily off of him and holds up a hand. 

“I don’t have time for this,” He says flatly. “You wanna blame the Lion’s death on someone, blame it on the guy who brought it here to kill me in the first place, alright? Jesus -!” The kid, Robin, Percy finally remembers, throws a fucking ninja star at his head! It sails past his ear, but he can feel the nick it leaves behind. He scowls. “Play nice or I make you.” 

Thankfully, Jason takes this moment as an opportunity to step in and pick the kid up by the back of his suit like scruffing a kitten.

“Sorry about him,” Jason says. “But I don’t think you’re in a position to go after Serrado.” Next to him, Nightwing lands without a sound. Percy scans the ledge where he must’ve lept from, looking for that second shadow and certain he can feel the extra pair of eyes. He gives up for the moment, but he keeps a mental tab on the thought. 

“Hood’s right,” Nightwing says, sounding a little apologetic and a little alarmed. “You were hit by a garbage truck and then blown up.”

“Nothing compared to what I’ll do to you-” Robin hisses, thrashing in the air. Jason sets him down and Nightwing lays a pacifying hand on his shoulder that somehow keeps his feet rooted to the spot. 

“Robin,” Nightwing says, then continues to Percy. “We’ve already got eyes out all over the city for your guy. Him going for partners like the Falcones says a lot about how much weight he can throw around.”

“Or how stupid he is,” Red Robin says bitterly, still holding up Nico. “The Romans double-cross everyone, especially people without other allies.”

“Could mean he has other allies,” Jason points out.

“Not likely.” Red’s deceptively strong; for as long as he’s been holding up Nico, Percy had been ready to offer help, but the vigilante hasn’t faltered once. That, and he’s really, really familiar. Percy’s getting sort of tired of almost recognizing people. “Serrado set this meeting up very quickly. It was conditional on Percy.”

“Has this not made you wary of your new friend? ” Robin hisses at Red. “A poacher and a snake?”

“I’m not with that bag of dicks,” Percy snaps. “Ideally I’d like to chop him up into tiny pieces and remind him of my stupid fucking heritage.” He looks sharply over at the hole in the sea wall, thinking longingly of Long Island and Montauk. “Sorry, Dad,” He adds under his breath. “As for that Lion, it’s already almost killed me once. That’s the second time it’s come for me. Don’t worry kid, I’m sure somebody somewhere will release it on me again, or, hey, maybe someone worse!” Like that one big guy that went after Thalia and her hunters, Orion. Or king Minos. He throws his hands up in the air and looks up at the sky, at the thick, rolling dark clouds.

“Percy, I don’t know if they hear us here,” Nico says hoarsely, sounding for all intents and purposes like the shit got kicked out of him. “If ever you wanted to talk about it…” 

Percy scoffs. 

“They’re always listening,” He mutters. “They’re- what’s that word that starts with an ‘o’, means super strong and everywhere?” Annabeth used to say it all the time. 

“Omnipotent,” All four of the bats say at the same time. 

“That.”

“Not omniscient though,” Nico says, grinning wryly. “Take the last w- big fight.” Percy snorts, sheathing Riptide after one assessing look at Robin to make sure he doesn’t become feral again. 

“Don’t need ‘em, anyway,” the son of Poseidon says, looking over to the sea wall and freezing the current. Every droplet stops like someone hit pause on the tv remote, and Percy walks over slowly, reaching out and poking errant droplets. “Not the problem this time. Except for him.” Percy’s fist clenches and the river abruptly starts rushing again, the harsh speed of the water parting around Percy’s legs seamlessly. “He hit me with a truck. He stole my dead friend’s stuff. He attacked me…” Percy turns and walks over to the Lion pelt on the ground, scooping it up and holding it out in Nightwing and Robin’s direction with a sideways glance before his eyes search the perimeter again for that shadow once they take it. “With the Chimera and the Nemean Lion. By the way, Hercules only fought that guy once. Me? I’m built different.”

“Heracles,” Nico corrects tiredly. Percy turns and levels an unimpressed look at him.

“Whatever. Piper and Jason said he was a dick anyway. They literally beat him with the cornucopia. Imagine what I could’ve done on an island surrounded by the ocean.”

“They didn’t go there to-” Nico breaks off into a small cough and Percy frowns, walking closer as Red Robin props him up higher. “To fight him. It was supposed to be a civil conversation. It’s almost like Annabeth didn’t send you because she knew you’d have other motives.”

“Yeah, she knows- knew me pretty well,” Percy admits, barely paying attention as he tilts Nico’s face to and from and then puts a hand on his chest, wondering if he’d have the ability to feel internal bleeding. Then again, maybe that would require knowledge of what the body is supposed to look- feel?- like without being beaten to hell. “Totally could’ve beat him though.” He sends a mental scan through his body and then through Nico’s and doesn’t really notice anything not flowing the way it should, so he steps back again. “We should go home, get you to Will.”

“Get you to Will, idiot,” Nico says, struggling to stand on his own and ultimately failing. “You got hit by a truck.”

“Transport on route, but hang on,” Nightwing says suddenly. “You wanted to test your strength by fighting the greatest hero of all time? You have friends that met the real life Hercules?” He presses something on his wrist, which lights up blinking, and then crouches comfortably, the whites of his mask strangely glued to Percy. Percy gets the feeling this guy probably won’t leave them hanging and means transport for all of them. Although if he does, Percy hopes he takes the angry kid with him.

“Well, he’s a god now, and trapped on an island, so he’s pretty easy to find,” Percy says, creating a dry bubble around the group of them and sitting down harder than he means to on the pavement. “And I wasn’t fighting him for the sake of dick-measuring.”

“Zoe?” Nico asks, although he sounds knowing.

“Yeah.” Percy pulls out Riptide and looks to the stars, where the clouds hang over the Huntress overhead.

“He’s a god and you think you can beat him?” Nightwing says skeptically. “What about those 12 labors of his?” He tilts his head, considering. “Although I guess the Nemean Lion was one of them.”

Nico waves a clumsy pale hand at him, also sitting down and leaning lightly against Percy’s shoulder. “Percy’s done, like, half of those. And he’s not even 18 yet.”

“What are the labors?” Percy asks, watching as Jason paces around various shipping containers, occasionally whistling and typing something on his phone. Both his and Percy’s attention get briefly stolen by sirens in the distance.

“Well, the ones you’ve done, or sort of done… He had to deal with the Minotaur’s dad, but the Minotaur was arguably worse, and that was your first big win as a demigod.”

“You weren’t even there yet.” Percy tugs at his shoe laces, a little embarrassed and already regretting asking. He’s pretty sure this conversation is only going so long because Nico’s trying to distract him. The sirens are heading this direction, likely to pick up the criminals laid out on the ground behind them. Percy hopes none of them get too severely sick from the river water they’re floating in. At least someone turned them all on their backs so they don’t drown.

“Percy, you’re everyone’s favorite Hero,” Nico says. “They tell more stories about you around the campfire than even the olds.”

“Hopefully not the embarrassing ones.” Percy peers around at the vigilantes and finds not only  Nightwing’s attention but also Red Robin’s, and if he’s not mistaken, Robin’s too- although the kid is trying valiantly to remain occupied with the ginormous coat in his hands. Percy frowns at it- when had the pelt shifted? Was it before or after he handed it off to them? Maybe he did hit his head.

Oh, right. With a garbage truck. Then a big metal wall. Then a bomb . The thought of a bed and some ambrosia is so appealing he can almost taste the false flavor of his Mom’s cookies. 

“Well, mostly not the embarrassing ones,” Nico allows. “But like that time you helped kill a Hydra. Like Hercules.”

“He did that himself,” Percy points out. “Clarisse did most of the legwork in that fight.”

“Whatever. You rode the big Boar by driving it into a snowbank like Hercules.”

“Had Thalia’s help,” Percy grunts, and then narrows his eyes at Nico. “Why do you know so much about Hercules?” Nico turns pink and Percy smirks. “Ah. What’s his attack power?”

“Shut up,” Nico grumbles. “3500 if you play it right. Anyways , you killed Geryon, so I’m counting that as stealing his cattle. Point. You’ve killed Stymph birds. Point-”

“ Everyone’s done that-”

“You’re friends with Hylla, but I think if it was the older queen you could’ve taken the Amazonian Belt-”

“Queen of Amazon’s name isn’t Hylla,” Nightwing cuts in suddenly, frowning. “And it’s been the same queen for forever.” 

“That’s Wonder Woman’s Amazons,” Nico argues. “Different group. Our Amazons were led by an old resurrected bag lady who was evil and hideous during the beginnings of the last w- big fight.”

“You never saw her,” Percy says. “And also, I don’t know if I would say Hylla and I are friends. Also also, no way, Jose. I would not have gone up against Grandma Amazon, trust me.” Something warm runs down his cheek and he swipes at it, pulling his hand away. It’s blood. He’s bleeding? “I’m bleeding?”

“Small cut,” Jason says reassuringly, suddenly standing next to Red Robin. “You know how head wounds bleed.”

Percy hums. He does know. But he also knows that he didn’t feel any pain five seconds ago, and now that his adrenaline is slowly filtering out there’s a sinister ache setting into his bones.

“How long was I in the river?” He asks suddenly. He thought that being in there for a minute or two had mended the worst of it, but breathing is starting to become difficult- or, no. It’s not that it’s just started, but that Percy’s just started noticing the haggard sound of his own breathing, the rasp in his voice, and the ache shifting into a throb in the center of his chest. Nico’s arm winds around his tightly.

“20 minutes, give or take,” Red Robin says, a little stilted.

“You should get back in the water,” The son of Hades advises quietly, pulling away. “I’m serious, Percy.”

Percy allows the edge of the dry bubble around them to break, immediately submerging himself up to his ribs with the river. The sharp pain in his chest hardly soothes and his nose starts running freely. He wipes at it but it just keeps coming. There’s a crescendoing wave of pain crawling over his scalp and skull. 

“Sometimes I miss being invulnerable,” Percy says numbly, lightheaded. 

“Sometimes I think you still are,” Nico says, grim. “Will’s on his way with ambrosia, alright?”

Percy hums, closing his eyes.

“Ambulance should be here any second,” He hears Nightwing say, and frowns.

“Mortal hospitals aren’t good,” He mumbles. Nico’s hand, or he thinks it’s his considering how cold and bony it is, lands on his bicep.

“I can shadow travel,” Nico suggests uncertainly. “You need help, Percy.”

“Dramatic,” Percy says. “You shouldn’t. But…” It takes him three tries to achieve the correct taxi whistle, but when he does it bounces off every surface around them, nearly deafening. Moments later, a bark rings out an an equal decibel. From the shadows, Mrs. O’Leary bounds out, splashing violently over to Percy but stopping just before him with a whine, nudging his chest gently with her massive nose. 

“Hey girl,” He mumbles, tangling his fingers into her scruff. “Big fight, you just missed it. Can you take us to Will, Sweetheart?” She barks and waits as Nico wraps bony fingers around her collar. He reaches out a hand to Jason. 

“With us or no?” He asks, barely audible over the encroaching emergency vehicles.

“We’ll meet you at home,” Jason says firmly. Nico nods, and Percy pats Mrs.O’Leary’s side twice. With a great bark, they’re swallowed by darkness, and moments later he’s in a much narrower space- some sort of fast food bathroom, judging by the lighting and the smell. He groans at the fluorescents, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face into Mrs.O’Leary’s fur, who is monumentally squished between the stalls and the sinks. Underneath the sinks, Nico’s curled up into a tiny ball, reminiscent of his time spent in the bronze jar. Will stares at them with wide eyes. 

“Oh my gods,” He manages, crouching in front of Percy and laying a ginger hand on his chest before jerking back. “Oh my gods. Oh fuck, what even happened to you- Mrs. O’Leary, we need to go home. Nico’s little sister, a new one.” He rattles off the address and the world spins as Mrs. O’leary drags them through shadow. Percy ends up on his back in Jason’s living room, sprawled out painfully. The hellhound wags her massive tail as she bounds up to where Steph and Margot are sitting on the couch gaping at them. Nico tries to get to his feet but careens into the table, and Will has to stop him from slamming his head into the corner. “Steph. First aid kit in Percy’s apartment under the kitchen sink. Please hurry.” He drags Nico over to the couch and swiftly lies him down before bustling over to Percy, shifting from foot to foot anxiously. 

“Fuck, I don’t know how to move you,” He says, sounding on the verge of tears with frustration. “Fuck, what’s the point of giant friends if they’re not-”

The door swings open wildly as Jason and Tim pour in, followed swiftly by Nightwing. Will doesn’t even bother asking them how they got here so fast- he just starts pointing at Nico before bodily pulling Jason to Percy’s side.

“I can move,” Percy says, trying to sit up. Will puts a firm hand on his shoulder, his eyes wide and his voice sharp as he stops Percy in his tracks.

“ Don’t be stupid,” He snaps. “We’ve got you, Seaweed Brain. I don’t even know how you’re awake right now.” Jason doesn’t make a sound as he helps Will lift Percy and haul him into the bathtub, turning on the bath instead of the showerhead. When the crime lord gives him a look, Will puts Percy’s head directly under the faucet, successfully waterboarding his headache into submission as the tub fills up around his ruined torso. A large piece of ambrosia is shoved into his mouth as a needle pokes into his arm. Faintly he can hear music.

“Is that Janet Jackson?” He asks groggily as the world around him fades into nothing. The last thing Percy processes is maybe we’ll meet at a bar… he’ll drive a funky car…

Mom loves this song , he thinks deliriously, and then stops thinking all together.

Chapter Text

July 19th, the Bowery, Gotham City. 04:15

Jason sighs heavily, running a hand over his face as he sinks down on the bathroom counter, the dampness from the sink seeping into the fabric of his sweats. 

It’s been a long night, since arriving at the warehouse with Tim to see a Falcone of all people, and Serrado actually there in person. Not only was it a stupid plan, it was a stupid plan that could’ve worked, and almost did. They decided to engage when Nico reported the amount of people waiting in the warehouse, and oh yeah, the Nemean fucking Lion, a Herculean level threat that Percy apparently already beat at 14. 

Percy, who nearly died tonight. 

Jason looks over at the bathtub and its recently refilled water, still murky with the amount of filth on Percy from the river. Percy himself is less gray than he was when Jason first saw him under real lighting, after Dick drove the Batmobile at frankly insane speeds to get them there. He had watched disbelievingly as Will made various deep slashes into Percy’s purpling chest and poured viscous gold liquid into them. He could hardly believe watching the wounds immediately close up and turn yellow, the scary silver-white glint at his hairline and the horrifying burn tearing across his jaw and arms going down in severity rapidly, like something out of a weird time lapse.

“Fractured his skull. His sternum’s so fucked,” Will had said grimly. “If he hadn’t been hit into the river, the internal bleeding would’ve killed him right away. Instead just his bones are slightly imploded, and his rib count went from 12 to 24.” Jason hadn’t asked how he knew or how the gold substances- ambrosia? Godly food?- are fixing it. He didn’t even ask why Will went deathly pale after holding his hands over Percy’s chest while singing for 10 straight minutes and then shortly thereafter passed out in one of the bedrooms. He’s just glad that Percy’s going to live. Even now, the kid could wake up any second, which is precisely why Jason is hovering. It’s definitely not because he’s desperately avoiding finger stripes in the other room, with a fervor he’ll never admit to.

He himself got out of the fight without a scratch, same deal with Tim- but then, they weren’t the targets. No, instead Percy walked right into a death trap with no way to communicate with them and Jesus, did he pay for it. Nico, too, in the other room. Jason didn’t really understand at first why the kid was so beat up after hardly taking a single hit from the Lion until he’d seen his hand pass through his own rib cage while they were waiting for the cops. It freaked him out enough to keep him mostly quiet and tense, twitching with the knowledge that him standing there uselessly was another opportunity for someone to try driving a truck into someone again. 

Useless like he was in that fight. Serrado proved the Lion’s bulletproof pelt and Nico demonstrated its invulnerability to swords- and then Percy laughed in the damn thing’s face and pressure-washed it into a fur coat. And maybe he could’ve done something about the garbage truck, if he was paying any attention. Somehow he missed the massive vehicle traveling mach speed at his friend with its headlights on . 

His fist clenches and he brings it up to his forehead, pressing it hard against his skull. He exhales slowly, eyes shut tight. There’s blood in the bathroom and there’s a silent body floating submerged in the bathtub, and Jason could’ve- should have done something. 

He looks up at a soft knock. Dick is leaning against the door frame, carefully not over the threshold. Jason wonders how long he’s been there.

“Hey,” Dick says, tilting his head. “How’s Percy?”

“Still breathing,” Jason says, crossing his arms across his chest but forcing the rest of his body to maintain its relaxed position. “How’s Nico?”

“Same. Not as spooky to look at anymore.” Dick gives Jason a questioning glance that he merely shrugs at, so he settles onto the closed toilet seat and stretches, crossing his legs at his ankles. “How are you?” His hands sit folded on his lap, fingertips tapping along his knuckles.

“Fine. Good.” Jason shrugs again, feeling awkward. “You saw the fight.”

“I saw the fight, so you know what I’m asking,” Dick says, unimpressed. His domino does nothing to hide the clear nonplussed furrow of his brow, his mouth a flat line. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” He repeats, exasperated. “Seriously.”

“See, you say that,” Dick starts, but decides wisely not to continue at the look that must be on Jason’s face. “Alright. I just… haven’t seen you in a while is all. Forgive a guy for being curious about his- about you.” He passes off his stutter seamlessly, but Jason regards him for a long moment. 

Sure, they’ve known each other the longest between all of the Robin crew, but by no means have they been cool for all that long, or would Jason consider them to be all that close . Dick has his back now and likely forever more (or until the next time Jason comically screws the pooch), but that wasn’t always the case. Nor did Jason want him to, to his credit. When he first joined the family it was worse than tumultuous, what with Dick’s bitter, frightening fury and Jason’s jealousy. Then he went and died, and after that, obviously they were on opposite ends of Batman’s crusade. The whole debacle with his confrontation with Batman and the Joker- he shivers. Then of course, they fought for the cowl. He tries not to think about those times, about how insane he was back then. 

Recently they reconciled on even ground over Tim, of all people, because the little idiot got himself into a lot of trouble- or rather, trouble seemed to coalesce at his feet, as usual. There was an undercover situation that ended up roping in a lot of players, and then it was a ‘my-meta-friends-are-in-Gotham-and-B- can’t -know’ situation, and who better equipped with intimate knowledge of hiding things from B?

Dick, apparently. Because while Jason snuck some things into the Manor and only ever got caught by Alfred, Dick had exploits for supers, speedsters, girlfriends, and pets. Jason had raised an eyebrow and contemplated commenting about how many of those were redheads before deciding not to start a conversation he may not win.

Now, he heaves a sigh. Dick is lost in thought, judging by his jiggling foot and the contortion of his jaw suggesting he’s chewing on his cheek. When he gets like this, Jason has to remind himself that he’s not nearly as much of a crashout as he used to be, and even back then, not being Bruce or an enemy (almost synonymous) was already half a victory. It’s why he instantly clicked easier with Tim- because he’s the Dick of the equation (ha): eldest, angriest, and cruelest. Not to say Dick ever tried to beat him to death, but he wasn’t welcoming Boy Wonder to Jason like he was to his precious team. 

Tim admitted that when Jason first became Robin he hated him, but by the time he went to Ethiopia he was pretty attached. He says it’s not the reason he let Jason off the hook for nearly killing him multiple times- “I’m not ‘letting you off the hook,’ Jason, I’m just saying I’m not as messed up about it anymore”- But Jason doesn’t believe him. He thinks there can be no other possible way Tim could forgive him. Bruce couldn’t forgive him for much less. Not that he expects him to, or wants him to.

He swallows hard. 

“I’ve been working a lot,” Jason says quietly, the words coming out in a breath. “When Percy showed up in the Alley, I was pretty sussed. You obviously know about Tim’s case. I was…” Before becoming fixated on Percy’s weirdness, he was living like a prisoner- waking up if he slept, working out, eating, reading, fighting, fighting, fighting, cleaning, rinse and repeat. “I had a pretty boring routine. B and I spoke shortly before it, so.” He shrugs for a third time, sniffing.

Dick nods, unfolding his hands to press them flat together between his knees. 

“He’s been really annoying lately,” He says, sounding vaguely irritated and forcibly uninterested in pressing the issue, like he doesn’t want to get started for Jason’s sake. “So you picked up another Timmy.”

Jason scoffs a laugh and Dick smiles back at him, satisfied.

“Guess I did,” Jason says, looking down at his boots. He refrains from mentioning how his first thought had been to compare Percy to Dick . “How have you been?”

“Not terrible,” Dick says, shrugging back at Jason. “Also mostly just working.”

“Brat still live with you?” Jason asks.

“Never did,” Dick says, suddenly quiet. Jason looks over at him. “Well, in the Penthouse, yeah. And the Manor, when B, y’know, went for a swim in the T stream-”

Jason’s face sours. “Do not call it that.”

“But my apartment’s a one bedroom,” Dick continues, ignoring the interruption.  “And kind of a shithole. Got a dog, though.”

“Ah,” Jason says. “You’re still refusing B’s money?”

Dick shrugs. “I hear you’ve got a fairly large trust fund yourself.” Both of them huff. B’s easiest and most tried solution to any problem has always been to throw money at it. In business and trade, even in Batman-ing, it’s wildly successful.

Not as successful when mending relationships with your kids. Funny how that works. 

“Got pictures of the dog?” Jason asks after a moment. Dick pulls out his phone and starts showing him pictures of a blue, 3-legged pitbull as Tim appears with Will in the doorway.

“Her name is Haley,” Dick says fondly. “Or Bitewing. Not as big as Percy’s dog though, that’s for sure. Can you imagine B with that monster as Batdog and not Ace?”

“Ace is bad enough,” Tim says, turning and letting Will push past him to check on Percy before making himself comfortable against the frame, just like Dick 10 minutes before. “Nico says her name is Mrs. O’Leary.”

“No way they’re dogging on Red Robin and Percy named his dog that ,” Jason says, grinning.

“Percy didn’t name her,” Will says from the floor, poking at the new, shiny white scarring along Percy’s hairline. “He got her from Daedalus.”

“Like, the builder of the Labyrinth?” Dick asks. “Didn’t he die after the whole Icarus and Perdix thing?”

“Yes, eventually long after Perdix,” Will agrees. “But everyone was being resurrected back then, it was a whole thing.” He frowns, sitting back on his haunches. “Huh. That’s always been kind of the problem, actually. I’ll have to bring that one up to Captain Stupid here when he wakes up.”

“Why do you know so much about Greek mythology?” Jason asks Dick, who looks a little surprised at the question.

“I thought it’d be obvious,” Dick says. “I mean, Donna and I were practically attached to the hip. Wonder Woman’s our aunt. It’s enough to pique anyone’s interest.”

“Tim isn’t locked in like that,” Jason points out. Dick smirks.

“I think Tim’s been preoccupied by other members of the team,” He says, laughing out loud when Tim turns pink.

“I liked Rome better,” He says defensively. “Cassie doesn’t know much about their history either.”

“I mean, if they have different Amazons, who knows what else is different,” Dick says. “Maybe a blank slate going into this is more helpful?”

“Yeah, until they throw around stuff like Tartarus and Phlegethon and you have to figure out what those are.” Dick’s smile melts away.

“Tartarus?” He asks, looking back over at Percy and then down at his dimming phone screen. 

“Both of them,” Will says quietly. “It’s definitely hard for them, Percy especially, to catch any kind of break.” 

“Except for… bone breaks,” Percy groans from the tub, effectively startling every occupant of the overcrowded bathroom. “I catch those too easy.Who… hits a kidnapee… with a truck. Ow.”

“Yeah, about that,” Will says, sounding unimpressed. “I thought he wanted you alive, not smashed into a million pieces.” 

Percy shrugs, and it looks painful. His eyes bounce around every face before settling on Will. 

“That was the original idea,” Percy says, pushing himself up with Will’s help. “Ow. What was wrong with me?” Will places a finger on Percy’s chest before scowling.

“What’s still wrong with you is your torso is literally in pieces,” He says. “Almost every rib broken, sternum shattered, skull cracked, and if you hadn’t been in the river right after impact I’m assuming your lungs would be crushed and your heart pierced by a bone fragment.”

“...Okay,” Percy says slowly. “That’s pretty bad. That would have actually killed me.”

“ Yes .” Will sounds stressed and exasperated. “Obviously. How do these things happen to you?”

“At least it wasn’t a volcano this time,” Percy says. “Or a world-ending nosebleed. Just a regular one.”

“Small mercies, I guess.” Will gives him a look. “Still on bedrest for the next couple days.”

“What the hell-” Percy tries to sit straight up and very quickly sees the reason in Will’s orders. Jason watches as an expression of critical agony flits over his face like a shadow before vanishing into a blank slate, his mouth a relaxed line and his eyes remarkably untense around the corners. The only thing he can’t seem to stop is the furrowing of his dark brows. “In pieces, you say?”

Will hums, patting the top of Percy’s head. “Sorry, man. But I mean it this time.” He points an accusing finger at the son of Poseidon before getting to his feet, groaning with the apparent strain of his knees. “We’re not debriefing in this stupid bathroom. Give him a couple hours and we can move him to his own bed.”

“You underestimate my power,” Percy says weakly to Will’s retreating back.

“Don’t try it,” Will quotes back over his shoulder, although Jason can tell he’s serious. Percy seems to understand this as well, given the way he sinks back into the water. 

“How do you feel?” Dick asks calmly. Strangely enough, he’s using his Teen Titans leader voice. Jason sees Tim clock it too, and both of them watch Percy’s face. 

Percy shrugs. “Kind of like I was chopped up in a meat grinder. Kind of mad about it.”

Jason snorts. “Kind of, he says.” He mimes something flying through the air with a whistle and then rolling. “You got that garbage truck back pretty good.”

“I didn’t even know you could destroy something that quickly with high pressure water,” Dick adds lightheartedly. 

“Definitely scared Serrado away,” Tim agrees, pushing off the frame. “Are you guys hungry?”

“Not if you’re cooking,” Jason says. Tim rolls his eyes.

“I’m ordering pizza. No wings for you,” He says, disappearing into the living room. Jason huffs, pushing off the counter and peering out the door.

“Better be hot!” He calls towards the end of the hall.

“Yeah, yeah,” He hears Tim mutter, and grins to himself.

“Wait a second,” Percy says, frowning. “Tim wasn’t even there. How-”

“He watched my Helmet’s live feed,” Jason says smoothly, tapping his temple. Percy stares at him, and Jason swears that somehow the guy can see right through him. Rather than calling it out, the demigod closes his eyes. 

“I see,” Is all he says. Dick looks like he has something to say, probably some weird heart to heart, and Jason wants no part of it. He slips the rest of the way out of the bathroom. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” He says, abandoning Percy to Dick’s striped clutches and walking into a more domestic and less potentially irritating scene. Nico is knocked out cold with his head cushioned in Will’s lap, who has both hands tangled in his hair and is slowly nodding off with his head thrown back against the couch.

Tim is at the table on his laptop, though nothing on the screen is moving beneath his stagnant stare, so Jason assumes he’s not that busy and sits down next to him.

“That was painfully awkward,” Tim says quietly, as soon as Jason’s weight has completely left his feet. He laughs.

“No kidding,” He mutters. “Did you hear him talking to Percy?”

Tim snorts. “Team voice?”

“Percy won’t go for it,” Jason says. “He’s got big enough problems without saving the world.”

“Actually.” Turns out Tim was doing something on his laptop before Jason came along as he pulls up a frankly ridiculous, headache-inducing web of information that causes the whirring of his computer’s fan to go from quiet to roughly the sound of a jet engine. “I figured more out, if you’re interested.” 

“You know they’re in the same apartment with us,” Jason ventures lowly. “You can just ask. Not really a case anymore.” Tim gives him a look.

“When has asking Percy yielded anything helpful?” He retorts. Jason concedes, humming. “I think world saving is exactly a part of his big list of problems.”

“How do you figure?” Jason asks.

“War,” Tim says grimly, rolling the wheel of his mouse with a speed that speaks of many, many hours put into the system Jason is trying his best to understand. Finally Tim seems to find whatever neuron-sized file he was searching for and double clicks. He inputs a passcode- Jason’s pretty sure that was the simplest passcode Tim’s ever had, but he’s not sure about the significance of August 18th.

He turns his laptop so Jason can see it better, and Jason stares.

It’s a collection of pictures and near-unintelligible shorthand. One image is of a younger Percy standing in front of a kid a little younger than Jason, which doesn’t mean much given the giant scar stretching across his face. There’s a blonde girl next to him- Annabeth?- and someone that must be Nico- although he’s got a -frankly pretty cool- skull-shaped helmet on, and he looks much angrier from what Jason can see of his side profile. Next to them is another girl, with spiky black hair and electric blue eyes. She’s got a circlet on her head- some show of rank? In all of their hands are blurred weapons of some kind, but Jason can’t really make them out. He can assume that the one in Percy’s hand is Riptide, though.

In the picture, the tall scarred teenager is glaring down at Percy like he wants him dead. His eyes are bright gold and honed on the four children in front of him like he’s about to cut them down.

The next picture is Percy, around the same height but taken from behind. He’s silhouetted by the glow of the sunrise, creating a lens flare that does nothing to cover up the decimated bridge in front of him or the massive gathering on the other side of its collapse, led by the same scarred man from the first picture. Riptide is slightly clearer in the image as it hangs limply at Percy’s side. His posture is defeated.

The third image is something Jason would liken to a post- World War II picture of starving survivors in Poland who just got word the war was over. There's a ring of young teenagers gathered around the steps of what looks to be the Empire State Building, all bloody, dirty, and wounded, and they all have uninhibited joy and relief painted across their expressions. Every single one of them is wearing the same orange shirt in various states of wear, and almost all of them are armed and in random pieces of Greek armor. There are a couple people around the edges of the photo that are so blurry Jason can't make out their features, but he swears at least two of them are green. 

In the middle of the crowd is Percy and Annabeth. It's another candid and honestly Jason could guess Percy and Annabeth are hardly even aware of the people around them. Percy’s still a couple years younger here, the clearest his face has been in the array of pictures. The front of his shirt is singed and his eyes are locked on something out of frame. Although the singular focus in his expression is intimidating even on the face of a child, there's a tiny grin at the corner of his mouth. The lines around his eyes scream hurt, but the rest of him looks relieved.

“What are these?” Jason asks, unable to look away.

“Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus,” Tim says quietly. “This is the ‘first big fight’ Nico mentioned earlier. That's kind of how I figured it out- they kept mentioning battles and then he almost said war a couple of times, and with the whole prophecy thing… And now I know. Sort of.”

“ First implies more than one.” Jason’s finally able to tear his eyes away to look at his younger brother. “How’d you put it together?”

“First implies more than one because there was more than one. Remember when Percy went to California and then Alaska?”

“Hang on-” Jason begins, about to fully turn to give Tim his entire attention, push a little harsher about the second question regarding the acquisition of this evidence and the information backing these theories, but then a new picture flashes across the computer like a bad bribe.

Jason can’t resist it. He studies the new image with a sense of awe at the realization that Percy is a real life Greek hero with hero friends, like the Argonauts, like Theseus. 

To be fair, in this picture, Percy isn’t even there. It’s Annabeth and three other teenagers- and an old man with weird pants and a baseball bat- on a giant ship. The other three look around Nico’s age, and the shortest is particularly youthful, grinning impishly at the camera. The other blond, a tall guy that has a very Captain America disposition, has his arm slung over a girl who looks strikingly similar to one of Dick’s Top 5 Men of All Time list occupants. Annabeth’s arms are crossed with a scowl on her face, her freaky eyes locked onto something far beyond the camera. 

Behind them, there is a massive warship. At its helm is the head of a giant bronze dragon that’s looking right at the camera. 

“This one was taken when Percy was in California,” Tim says, and then presses a key on his laptop. The first picture is overlapped by another, and Jason’s awe melts into a sense of dread. 

It’s Percy, and he’s scared. His face is set in a scowl and he’s got a pillow pet strapped to his back, but Jason can tell even from the blurry CCTV footage that his hands are clenched tight around his sword, the whites of his eyes catching fluorescents. He looks to be leaving a convenience store, and there’s a hunted look to him. Maybe it’s how thin he is. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking over his shoulder, his swordless hand strangling his backpack strap. Tim clicks away.

“That doesn't look good,” Dick says from behind them, startling them both. Tim whips around while Jason just sighs, rubbing his forehead. 

“Dick,” Tim says. “Um. How was your talk with Percy?”

“Informative. As I’m sure this conversation will be,” Dick says cheerfully, dragging a chair and forcing his way between them. He scrolls back to the first pictures, taking a minute to look over them. “Walk me through what we’re looking at.”

“You first,” Jason challenges as Tim opens his mouth to oblige. He’s not sure why he’s been so uneasy around Dick lately, which is precisely why he’s constantly avoided his company. Now, in the forced peace of fight-worn kids sleeping a couple feet away, he’s confident enough to be an asshole for reasons he can’t explain. 

Dick raises a single eyebrow at him.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dick says casually before continuing like there wasn’t a quiet threat in that statement. What the hell does he think ‘it’ is? Jason doesn’t even fucking know, and now he’s inexplicably even more pissed. “Percy and I talked about Gotham, and Margot, and some other stuff.” He waves a hand. “Nothing important. So? Pictures? Who’s the creepy guy with the scar?”

Tim glances at Jason before looking resolutely at the pictures. 

“Luke,” Jason guesses, thinking about Percy, half-crazed from sleep deprivation, lashing out at him before the whole Chimera thing. 

“Sort of,” Tim says again, still avoiding his eyes. “I have a theory. Um. the first picture was taken when that huge storm front made the Hudson River in New York go fucking crazy. Do you remember that?”

“Oh, dude,” Dick groans, putting his face in his hands. “Of course. Diana talked to Bruce about it, I didn’t put that together until just now-”

“What?” Tim asks, looking two seconds away from strangling Dick. 

“I didn’t hear much, so calm down, Bruce,” Dick starts, drawing a snort from Jason that surprises both of them. Tim just rolls his eyes. “Just that it was stuff from her world, and it was something even she couldn’t get involved with. Something about ancient beings.”

“Yeah, well,” Tim says as soon as Dick pauses. “I think Luke was Kronos. Or possessed by him. And Percy gave him the ‘cursed blade’ and he killed himself. Percy is leading an army against him in these pictures.” He clicks on the first picture, enlarging it. 

“This one,” He says. “Was taken by a local who was later admitted for claiming the entire city fell asleep when he took this, and that there was a giant snake- it was a lot. But then the prophecy said the world would be ‘in endless sleep.’ The first war was in New York. The giant storms had something to do with it, and the Hudson definitely had something to do with Percy.”

There’s stirring from the couch. Nico, who has a little more color than the last time Jason saw him but is still shaking slightly, pushes himself into a sitting position, then attempts to stand. In a flash, Dick is by his side.

“Not Percy so much as his Dad,” Nico admits, then pauses. “Percy didn’t tell you anything.” He says this to Dick, looking at him closely. His eyes move to Tim and Jason, assessing. “I am going to assume that you’re gonna figure it out anyway, but I’ll make it easier because he needs friends.” He looks more directly at Tim.

“You’re not slick,” Is all he says. If Jason weren’t highly trained he might’ve missed Tim’s tiny twitch at the words, but he does see it, and deep down he wonders about how comfortable he himself has become about his identity around these people- these people that now know exactly who they are (dead and alive), and probably have Dick’s number down, too. 

This revelation seems to fall over all of them, and for a moment, there’s a charged silence. Jason, for possibly the first time ever, clears his throat to divert the growing tension. He feels awkward in his own fucking safehouse.

“So Poseidon, the god, stopped a big storm,” Jason says, looking back at the picture again, at Luke’s- or Kronos’?- cruel gold eyes glaring down at Percy. He remembers Percy’s agonized expression every time Luke is brought up, the weird mix of anger and misery that flits over his face before dissolving into an impartial scowl. 

“Not a storm. Typhon,” Nico corrects. Dick and Jason gape at him. Tim types rapidly into his phone and looks up in disbelief a moment later. “Percy accidentally released him when he erupted Mt. St. Helens and it took the god’s combined effort to stop him. Well, except for my Dad. He took some… convincing, but actually it’s just after this picture that he showed up and stalled Kronos and fought his army.” He shrugs like it's no big deal, but all three of the bats are reeling from the information.

“Hold on.” Jason lifts up a hand, bringing the other to cover his eyes. “What- where do I even start…” 

Because… holy shit. Look, Jason has given these kids a lot of leeway, but to attribute the near-catastrophic eruption of a giant dormant volcano to Percy, and then link said event to the actually catastrophic nationwide freak storm a couple years back?

“What’s next,” Dick says, and Jason already knows they’re all going to regret the consequences of his next words. “You gonna tell me all of those insane earthquakes that nearly destroyed Long Island were you guys? And the weird stuff last year in-” He stops, paling. “In Rome…”

“What weird stuff,” Tim demands. 

“Guys- just- rewind,” Jason begs.

“I’m only here for the pictures,” Nico says, giving them a tiny grin. Dick helps him over to his own chair, then pulls up another for himself. Nico points to the dark haired girl and then Annabeth. “Thalia and Annabeth. Thalia’s a child of Zues and Artemis’ Lieutenant,” He says, and Jason can detect a hint of pride in his voice. His eyes move to the second picture and he frowns at it.

“Where’d you find that one?” He asks Tim, all traces of humor gone. He looks a little sad, but not upset at Tim, which the other seems to recognize as well.

“Twitter,” Tim admits. “Some old account reposted it years ago.” Nico hums. 

“I heard Percy picked up the Minotaur and tossed him off the bridge right before this,” He says fondly. “And then killed almost 200 monsters near-single handedly. And then Annabeth…” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t there. Annabeth took a poisoned knife for Percy that was somehow going for his weak spot. Kronos showed up and Percy had to collapse the bridge. We lost a couple people, and Annabeth almost died. It was pretty rough.”

“His weak spot?” Jason echoes, ignoring the other, frankly insane, fun facts that Nico just rattled off about Percy.

“Oh.” Nico looks a little surprised now, like having one single weak point is normal. “Right. He was bearing the curse of Achilles at the time, so he was invulnerable except for one spot he chose. It was the only way to beat Kronos.”

“Clearly he doesn’t have that now,” Dick points out unhelpfully.

“It was washed away when he went to the Roman camp,” Nico explains, like that means anything to them. “But anyways, it wasn’t a great day for us, him especially.”

“But you guys won?” Jason asks, tapping the last photo. Nico nods.

“Yeah,” He says, grinning tiredly. “We won. Percy, Annabeth, Thalia, and our friend Grover went to Olympus to stop Kronos. Thalia got pinned by a statue and… Luke died. Kronos was defeated. Percy made the gods make him promises instead of accepting immortality. I’m pretty sure his Mom is just out of frame.”

“What promises?” Tim asks curiously. Nico’s grin becomes vindictive.

“Basically? Pay child support.” Jason bursts out laughing, slapping a hand over his mouth so as not to wake Will, but it’s too late. The blond stirs, blinking and stretching before going stiff. His eyes snap open properly and find Nico in the time it takes for his pupils to adjust to the light. 

“What’s happening?” He asks groggily, closing his eyes again. He seems calmed by the fact that Nico isn’t doing anything besides sitting here and messing with the others. 

“Tim found pictures from the old war,” Nico says. Will looks up curiously and wanders over, leaning against the back of Nico’s chair. He grins at the screen. 

“Look at you in your little death helmet,” he coos, grunting when Nico moves surprisingly quickly to elbow him in the stomach. 

“I parted that crowd like Moses,” Nico mutters, crossing his arms gingerly. 

“Don’t forget the truly awesome crevices you and Daddy Death left that took forever for the city t-”

“Do not ever call my father that again,” Nico says flatly, sounding horrified. “Seriously. If you ever do that again, I’m putting you in his airtight box. Ask Percy.” Will’s jaw drops offendedly, but he’s smiling. “Anyway. Gods. Do you have any more photos?”

Tim nods. “Actually, this is where I need your help. I can’t really figure much out about the second war. There were two, right?” He navigates to the second set of pictures, and Nico looks at the first picture with nostalgia.

“There were two,” Nico agrees, “But if we’re getting any further into this I would like to relocate this to the couch or floor. Anywhere that isn’t a dining chair. Please.”

Five minutes later, Tim’s hooked up his computer to Jason’s 32” TV like they’re being given a presentation. Nico and Will are sprawled on the couch, Jason is splayed comfortably in the one lounge chair, Dick is folded up on the floor, and Tim’s sitting cross legged on the coffee table that’s been pushed to the side for leg room. 

“This is killing me a little bit,” Will confesses, and Nico snickers. “It’s just like the firepit at camp.”

“So is camp, like, an actual campsite?” Jason asks. “Or, wait, Percy said you had cabins?”

“Yeah, cabins per godly parent, or, the major ones,” Will says, wincing. “But we have lots of cool activities, lots of practical skills taught, and it’s safe, y’know, from monsters. Mostly.”

“Go back to the picture of the warship,” Tim says. “Who built that?”

“The short one, Leo,” Nico says, pointing at the elfish boy. “He actually fully built Festus, the dragon, then the Argo II when Festus was destroyed, then Festus again. He’s an incredible engineer. Don’t ever tell him I said that,” He says quickly to Will, who crosses his heart solemnly. 

“Can I meet him?” Tim asks.

“Perhaps,” Nico says unspecifically. “But this is right before they went to the Roman camp and reunited with Percy. Hazel and Frank joined them for the main prophecy before Annabeth left for her own quest. I wasn’t, um, there for any of that.” Will’s arms tighten around his waist. 

“Where were you guys?” Dick asks.

“I was at camp, preparing for war with the Romans because their religious sector was insane,” Will says quietly, sounding for the first time truly hateful. Jason, from the corner of his eye, sees a flash of anger paint itself across his face. 

“I was busy being captured and put in a jar and dragged through Tartarus,” Nico says lightly. A long silence follows his words. “But the seven rescued me, so it’s chill. Percy’s actually the one who pulled me out. We weren’t really that cool back then, but we still would’ve died for each other. Percy’s got a thing about loyalty, and anyone who’s met him has a thing about Percy.”

Jason thinks to himself about the strange attachment he’s grown for Percy in the last- what, 10 days? And he and his friends live in Jason’s building, know Jason’s name- hell, they’re cuddling on his damn couch. All because he followed a weird teenager home and opened his stupid fridge and listened to his stupid sob story and got snarked so severely he was rendered speechless on several occasions. 

“I’m starting to see what you mean,” Jason says.

“Are these the seven?” Tim asks, snatching the mouse and clicking rapidly over to the first high-quality image they’ve seen so far.

At the front of the picture with his arms extended to the camera is Leo, beaming mischievously. Over his left shoulder is the handsome blond guy and the pretty celebrity look alike, who are probably together based on their intertwined hands. To his right, a huge asian guy is looking lovingly down at a shorter girl with wild hair who’s regarding the camera with a mystified expression. Behind Leo, Percy and Annabeth are a little ways away. Their hands are linked in the back and Percy’s other arm is wrapped around her shoulders. Both of them seem aware of the camera. Percy’s looking over like his name was just called, a slightly irritated look in his eyes. Annabeth’s subtly flipping it off, not looking away from Percy with the first non-frightening look on her face Jason’s seen so far. She looks happy. They all do.

“Yeah,” Nico says. “Left to right is Piper, Jason, Leo, Frank and Hazel, and then in the back obviously Percy and Annabeth. Based on the vibes, this was taken before they got too far across the Mediterranean.”

“I see,” Tim says. He clicks to the picture of Percy with the pillow pet strapped to his back. “What can you tell me about this one?”

Both Nico and Will look at each other and then back at the screen. 

“When was that taken?” Will asks.

“Same time as the one with the warship,” Tim says.

“Oh.” Will shakes his head. “Percy was kidnapped by Hera at that point. We don’t really know anything about that.”

“Yeah, you’d have to ask Percy,” Nico agrees, still studying the picture. 

There’s a thump at the mouth of the hallway. Jason looks over, already knowing who he’s going to find.

Percy’s dry, somehow, and has one hand pressed to his chest while the other braces himself against the wall. It reminds Jason vaguely of the first time he met Nico. He wonders at Percy’s need to throw himself in front of the nearest dangerous object and then thinks with vague horror how much he must’ve gotten done when he was mostly invulnerable. He gets out of his chair and walks leisurely over to help the other to the couch, where his friends have already made a spot for him.

The son of Poseidon’s eyes are locked on the tv, his dark eyebrows drawn so close together they’ve become one big dark line. His eyes catch the light differently than they did in the picture- for a second, Jason regards Percy the way someone like Serrado might and, even in his injured state, sees the sinister power that wreathes the other like a halo. He wonders how much scarier Percy is to people who can feel what he is, people who he sees as enemies.

“I’m assuming you’re asking me about that picture,” He asks Jason in a volume only he can hear as he wraps a careful arm around his waist to help him to the couch. 

“We’ve been having a photo night, courtesy of the stalker over there.” Jason nods at Tim, who shrugs sheepishly. “When I told him he could just ask…”

“No, I get it,” Percy says, laid back as ever as he sinks down onto the cushions. “Not like I’ve been super helpful. Just surprised at the history lesson. Anything I missed?”

“Pictures from the old war,” Nico says, stealing the mouse and clicking back to them.

Percy was moving slightly before, but Jason only realizes it because he notices when he goes completely still.

“Oh,” He says after a full two minutes of silence. “Yeah. Wow.” He stands up and shuffles over to the TV, placing a featherlight hand on the last picture. There’s something horrible to witness on Percy’s face- seeing his expression warm up only to fold into that same misery that comes with his past is like watching a car accident happen right in front of him. “She was so young. We were so young…” 

Jason can see the moment Percy’s field of vision widens from the pinpoint of Annabeth as his face morphs into that signature scowl. Clearly, he’s looking at Luke, and Jason waits for him to say something. Instead his gaze flits back to Annabeth again.

“Do you have more?” He asks, just like Nico, and Jason’s starting to realize the value he’s been neglecting to place on having Tim and Bruce (and Dick and himself, in a more relaxed way) be such freaks about documentation, photographic and otherwise. These people don’t seem to have very much physical evidence of their pasts besides artifacts and scars. It’s upsetting. 

Tim clicks back to the second set again, both pictures seeming to suck him in worse than the first set did. Percy is still motionless, his hands clenched into fists on either side of him. 

“I’ve never seen Frank before his glow up,” Will says into the silence. Percy doesn’t react- doesn’t even twitch. Jason can see the way Dick is subtly preparing for… something, his body moving so quietly and unnoticeably that if Jason weren’t Jason, he wouldn’t have picked up on it. 

“He was a teddy bear,” Nico says. “Hazel had a huge crush on him even back then, she just didn’t know it.”

“Remember that capture the flag game after you gaslit me about knowing you?” Percy asks suddenly, breaking his silence and blinking at last. From what Jason can see from his side profile, he’s assumed a neutral expression, although his fists are still tightly clenched. 

“Yeah, where Gwen came back to life?” Nico replies, seeming unapologetic about gaslighting. He doesn’t deny it though, which is interesting.

“I was thinking about those two the whole game,” Percy admits, and Jason finally sees a miniscule grin bloom across his face. “She was taking us through those tunnels under the battlefield and at one point, and before that, after you left dinner- very unsubtle, by the way, and I still haven’t been able to fix the empathy link between Grover and I-”

“Talking to him would help,” Will says.

“-It was so obvious that they liked each other. Frank was so adorable back then. I miss them.” Percy smiles sadly at the pictures, ignoring Will’s interjection. “How’s Hazel?”

“Got her GED, thinking about college. Frank’s got his grandma’s house so they’re staying there on and off for now,” Nico says.

“Is that safe?” Percy turns to look at Nico fully, frowning. “The Canadians ambushed us there last time we went.”

“To be fair, Gaea was awake back then,” Nico points out. “Times have changed.”

“They know where the house is,” Percy insists. “It could be trouble.”

“Frank can shapeshift and Hazel has that big sword. I think they’re fine.”

Percy sighs, bringing a hand to his eyes briefly as he walks over and sits down next to his friends. 

“Sorry.” Dick says slowly. “But when you say Canadians ambushed you-”

“He means Laistrygonian Giants,” Nico sighs. “Don’t worry about it. Percy, relax. Seriously. They know where to find us if they need us.”

“You’re right, sorry,” Percy says, holding up his hands in surrender. Jason knows he’s not convinced- his middle name is stubborn. 

“Gaea as in Mother Earth? Just clarifying here,” Tim says, clearly unable to wait to ask anymore. He’s doing that active listening thing again; Jason’s not even sure he’s aware he does it, but when Tim gets really into something, he laces his fingers together in front of him, sits up ramrod straight, and locks completely into whatever holds his attention like a diligent student. Which is funny, because Tim is a terrible student, unlike Jason. “And the goddess Hera kidnapped you?”

“It was another prophecy,” Will explains.

“Hang on. How many fucking prophecies are there?” Jason asks, holding up a hand. “You keep mentioning those. I thought there was just the one about Olympus being destroyed.”

“We get a prophecy everytime we go on a quest,” Percy says. “Some of them are just more important, I guess? Like the first Great Prophecy, except there was another one too, and of fucking course it had to have something to do with us instead of waiting a couple thousand more years. Gods.” By the end of his sentence, Percy looks extremely irritated, his arms coming up to cross over his chest before his sternum must’ve reminded him of its current state. 

“The Prophecy of Seven was about Gaea and led the Greeks and Romans to come together, but it took a couple other quests to get there,” Will says helpfully, clearly used to both Nico and Percy’s apparent allergy to sharing actually pertinent information.

“What’s the Prophecy of Seven,” Tim starts, then clicks back to the picture of Percy again. “And what’s it got to do with you getting kidnapped?”

“Uh,” Percy says, scratching his head. “Well, I actually don’t really know that prophecy super well? Like, sure, it was about me and my friends and permanently changed my life, but it wasn’t held over my head for five years like the other one. But I can tell you about being kidnapped.”

“This one I actually know,” Will admits, prompting both Nico and Percy to turn and look at him with surprise. “Yeah, well, when you’re hanging out with camp counselors and the damn Oracle preparing for war because of some stupid poem that sent your friends and heroes on crazy, life-threatening adventures, you have some time.”

“Share with the class then, Siken,” Nico says sardonically. Will glares at him.

“Shut up,” He mutters. “Uh, but, Seven half-bloods shall answer the call, to storm or fire the world must fall. An oath to keep with a final breath, and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. ”

“Right,” Percy says. “Quick break-down before you ask: the seven part is obvious, to storm or fire is referring to Jason or Leo and the world is Gaea- Leo’s the one who actually finished her off, along with Piper- the oath was Leo’s to, um… this girl… anyway, he died and revived himself to get rid of Gaea, and the seven was a mix of Greeks and Romans, hence foes bearing arms.”

“Doors of Death are what Thanatos uses to keep the dead dead and to get around,” Nico adds. “But Gaea’s forces had control of both sides and were using it to funnel monsters out from Tartarus, which is how Percy and I got out.”

“Are all of your prophecies so convoluted?” Dick asks.

“Depends on who’s giving them,” Percy says, still scowling. “Once, Frank got one from Ares- uh, Mars- that was literally something along the lines of ‘go to Alaska and come back in time or die.’”

“That guy fucking hates you, no way he didn’t blow you up as a Roman,” Will gasps, sitting up. 

“Dude, I know,” Percy says, smirking. “He was so mad and he didn’t know why. I mean, me too, but I’m like, better. So.” Nico snorts and Will just sighs and shakes his head. “Speaking of the worst gods ever, Hera.” Percy looks at the TV again, his smirk slowly fading. 

“A couple months after the first war,” He starts, and Jason has a sinking feeling in his stomach at the flatness of his tone. “I got taken and my memory was wiped. I only remembered Annabeth.” He looks down. “Apparently I was asleep for like, five months? And then I was trained by the Roman teachers, this wolf and her pack, and then I was thrown into the real world again.” He shakes his head at the picture. “I’m pretty sure this was when I was being chased by the gorgons right before I found the camp.”

“Wait, the gorgons?” Nico asks. Percy looks over at him, shrugging.

“Yeah. Thankfully I was still cursed, so it was fine, but it was super confusing because they kept bringing up me killing Medusa, and I didn’t even remember doing it. And the worst part was, right before camp, Hera- Juno, whatever- showed up and made me carry her there and across the Tiber. I almost turned and walked into the sea instead. She said I’d live a long and happy life down there.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dick asks. The expression on his face is intense, and Jason stares down at him with curiosity. He hadn't really anticipated having Percy around Dick further than talking about the whole Margot situation, but maybe he should’ve brought him into the loop sooner. Percy, as well as Nico and Will, seem to have no problem with him. Actually, from what Jason can tell, Percy seems to like Dick. Which is crazy, because it took him several days to warm up to Jason, and he’s only been around Dick- well, Nightwing, but still- twice. He guesses whatever talk they had in the bathroom earlier must’ve went well. 

“I…” Percy’s jaw flexes, and the corners of his mouth pull his whole face down. “I remembered Annabeth. I thought, this is it. I thought it was Camp Ha- I thought it was home, the Greek camp. Hera said I could get home, just go through that tunnel, but that I would face loss like I never had. That I would lose my invulnerability, I would sacrifice- feel more misery than- ” He stops. “Doesn’t matter. Got to camp, met Hazel and Frank, re-met Nico and Reyna, re-established the Fifth Cohort, got put into the co-leading government position, then immediately gave it up several hours later to the original guy who also went missing because, shocker, Hera took his fucking memory, too.”

“Don’t forget destroying the Hubbard Glacier,” Will jokes. Percy cracks a weak smile.

“Yeah, did that too,” He agrees. “Any more pictures?” He sounds a little distant, and Jason looks at him more closely. Indeed, it seems his gaze isn’t actually on the screen but somewhere far away. His breathing is growing slower and the roughness that Jason’s been subconsciously monitoring in his voice has started encroaching on his speech. There’s no way he doesn’t have an insane concussion, magic healing or not. His eyes have been squinty this whole time, and Jason realizes it’s probably because of the screen brightness. The guy probably has killer aches and pains… everywhere. 

“Only a couple with you in them,” Tim says apologetically. “Sorry. I can find more, though.” If Jason knows anything, it’s that firstly, Tim is lying, and secondly, he will find more, whether Percy wants him to or not.

“You’ll have to show me later,” Percy says quietly, trying to get to his feet and stumbling. Jason springs up and catches him as the son of Poseidon careens into him. “I think that river water was evil.”

“I think you hit… everything… hard enough to kill any normal person,” Will corrects, also standing up and hovering behind the two others. “How’s your headache?”

“Krakatoa,” Percy mutters nonsensically, and then his eyes roll back and his knees buckle. Jason catches him around the shoulders and gives him a little shake, but he’s out cold.

“I’m surprised it took him this long. He's gonna be pissed about missing pizza,” Will says, sounding mostly unconcerned. “We should get him into bed, though. His bones are not done setting yet.” 

—-------

15 minutes after Percy abruptly succumbed to the events from the evening, Jason’s got him tucked into his own bed. Margot and Steph, who were hanging out in Percy’s apartment while everything was happening, were pretty freaked out initially when he walked in with Percy in his arms, Will trailing behind. After an explanation and promising Margot that although she can’t cuddle, she can sleep in the same bed, everything becomes less stressful. Will reapplies some of his golden God food and sings some more, then wanders off after mentioning Nico and sleep. Jason returns to his own apartment, where just his brothers (and now Steph) remain.

“You have some crazy friends,” She says to them as she collapses onto the couch. “God, that kid seems quiet, but she’s got crazy energy. I swear, we played the Ke$ha level a hundred times. Tim. happy birthday.” Tim shoots her a thumb's up, and Jason assumes Dick's already said it given his silence. He'll celebrate with the kid later.

“She is seven,” Jason points out.

“And a half,” Steph and Tim say at the same time, grinning over at each other before Tim refocuses on his laptop, which has been restored to his lap and unplugged from the TV. Dick’s taken his mask off and is laid out on the floor, spread out like a starfish.

“Can you leave now?” Jason asks the room at large. Steph just snorts, while Tim types away, not even bothering with a reply. Only Dick sits up to look over at him, refitting his domino over his eyes.

“Actually,” He says. “I think we’re due for a talk. Let’s go to the roof.” 

Chapter Text

July 19th, Gotham City, New Jersey 01 A.T.

“Gods, Percy, what happened?”