Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The beach was empty except for them, the cold grey sky hung over the sand and the threat of rain had chased everyone else indoors. But they didn’t mind the rain. They sat side by side on a ratty blue blanket a ways up the shore, turned slightly to face each other. Bright green eyes met piercing grey, both lacking their usual warmth. He waited for her to speak first.

“No matter how many times we go over it, no matter how we look at it, the truth is we just don’t fit anymore.” The set of her jaw was firm but her eyes betrayed the emotion in her voice.

“Please, can’t we try to work this out?” He was almost pleading, but he knew her well enough to know she had already made up her mind. 

“We have been, for a while. I know you’ve been feeling it too, we’ve grown up, but our relationship hasn’t.” She ran her fingers through her blond curls and hugged her knees tight to her chest. “It feels like we’re still at the bottom of the lake, sharing our first kiss after Manhattan. But we’ve been through too much since to stay there.”

“I know.” He smiled softly, the corners of his mouth just barely turning up. “We had a good run though, didn’t we?”

She smiled back at him, watching as his black curls rustled in the sea wind. “Yeah, we did.” She said and scooted closer to him to let her head rest on his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a while, watching the waves crash into the sand and roll back into the icy November water.

“I love you, Wise Girl,” he whispered, voice hoarse, rough with sadness.

She looked up at him, eyes flickering across the familiar shape of his face, studying the scars she knew as well as she knew her own. “I love you too, Seaweed Brain, always.”

—————————————————————————————————————

The smoke of the bonfire curled upwards into the evening sky. Dusk was rapidly approaching, but the group paid no mind, even as the Spring breeze sent a chill through the air.

Percy looked around the fire to his friends, all sitting on driftwood and enjoying each other's company, laughing loudly, letting themselves truly relax in a way that is far too rare for their group.

Piper, Reyna, and Thalia were in a heated debate over the proper way to take down a Laistrygonian. Grover and Juniper held hands while they listened to Nico and Will tell some story from the most recent game of capture the flag at Camp. Frank and Hazel were equally cuddly, eating s’mores and she squealed as he poked at her with the melted marshmallow goo on his hands.

His breath caught when he saw Annabeth across the flames, deep in discussion with Leo, golden waves spilling down her shoulders and moving her hands wildly to articulate her point. He was happy for her, really. Sure, it still hurt to be reminded of what they had had, but they were better as friends.

She noticed him looking and grinned back at him. Percy turned away from the fire to watch Tyson throw a giant red ball for Mrs. O'Leary, his brother laughed as they chased each other back and forth across the beach.

But like all good things, it all too soon came to an end. 

Will was the first to notice the shift in the air, head snapping away from his conversation, eyes narrowing. The others quickly followed his lead, gripping weapons and turning heads to watch the figure steadily approaching from across the beach.

Percy hung his head in his hands and sighed. Gods, he was so tired of finally finding peace just for it to be ripped away again.

He felt a gentle heat on his back and groaned, expecting the worst. Percy slowly got up from where he sat on a log and spun around.

And there he stood, in all his stupid godly glory. He didn’t even have the decency to try and hide his divinity, his too-sharp jawline and perfect golden tan and effortless blond hair, literally glowing in the setting sun.

“Of fucking course it’s you,” Percy sighed, not even surprised anymore. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Pretty sure I made it clear that I’m done being the gods’s favorite errand boy.”

At least Apollo looked somewhat embarrassed at this, if Percy hadn’t known better he would have thought he almost looked guilty. But he does know better and the gods don’t feel guilt.

“Percy,” Apollo began softly, “I know how unfair this must seem, but a hero’s life is never easy.”

“No, you don’t know, actually.” Percy exhaled, digging his nails into his palms, trying to keep it together. “You think spending a few months mortal makes you an expert? Because it doesn’t.” Percy said as his voice rose, he could feel himself growing angrier, the emotion simmering just under his skin. 

“ We , don’t have the privilege to complete a quest and go back to our fucking gold palace and forget about it,” Percy continued, stressing the distinction between his friends and the god in front of him. 

“We’re left with the consequences of your choices, left to clean up your messes, and you can’t even be bothered to care.” Percy spat his final words and turned to leave. “Just leave us alone, I’m done.”

“Percy, I’m sorry but it has to be you.” Apollo continued firmly, “I’m afraid that I require your special brand of assistance.”

Percy just stood there, arms crossed and scowling, which Apollo took as his cue to press forward. “There’s a situation that needs to be dealt with. A prophecy won’t be issued, it’s not a quest, so think of it more like a…mission.” 

“Fine,” he faced his friends again, “I’ll be back in a bit,” he promised. Looking back at Apollo, he gestured to move away from the comfort of the fire. “Come on, they don’t need to hear whatever this is.”

Apollo took a deep breath, taking long strides and leaving Percy to jog to keep up. “It has come to our attention that a demigod has become too involved in certain matters and risks exposing the divine world.” Apollo seemed to hesitate for a moment, his glow flickered and his ever cheery smile gave way to a slight frown. “Jack, as I knew him, went down the wrong path years ago, but recently he has become even more dangerous.” Apollo sighed, weary. “He is now known as the Joker, a villain in Gotham, and I need you to…take care of him for me.”

“And by ‘take care of’ you mean kill, right?” Percy stopped walking, dumbfounded, he thought Apollo would know better than to ask him to take the life of another half-blood, to kill one of his own. The wars had been different, he could, at least, pretend it was self defense. But to purposefully seek out and kill a demigod? Percy liked to believe he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. Something deep in his stomach contorted itself into a queasy knot.

“Who do you think I am? And besides, why should I care? It’s New Jersey, a fucked up demigod is hardly the worst thing there.” Percy argued, but then something hit him. “Why do you care?”

Apollo shook his head. “Percy, the Joker is barely human anymore,” he insisted, “the things he has done took a toll on his soul. It’s not natural , something about Gotham corrupted him a long time ago. There is nothing anyone could do to help him, except stop him before he hurts more people. As for why I care,” the god grimaced, face twisted in remorse, “the Joker was once my son.”

Percy faltered, his mind sent into overdrive at Apollo's confession. And, like the absolute genius he is, the only thing he could think to say was “Oh.”

Apollo pursed his lips, “So now I’m sure you see why this situation is of special importance to me.” He looked up at Percy, piercing golden eyes full of an emotion Percy couldn’t quite place. Regret? Shame? maybe. “Will you help me? Please?”

Once again, Percy faltered. Had a god actually just used the magic word? Percy found it hard to believe that they could learn or grow or whatever, but maybe Apollo's time on earth really had changed him. He’d have to go over this later, but for now, “Okay, but only because you asked nicely.” Percy turned his face to the evening sky, “Hear that Zeus? He used his manners, you should try it sometime.” A low rumble of thunder answered him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Apollo just shook his head, clearly tired of his antics and ready to be done with the whole situation. “In that case, I've already made arrangements for your stay, apparently a legacy of Mars works for a rather affluent family in Gotham and I persuaded him to let you stay in their manor.”

“Wait a minute, did you say manor? Like a rich people house? Am I staying with, like, a millionaire or something?” Percy was in disbelief, not only did Apollo bother to find him a place to stay, but in a fancy mansion? This quest, or mission, as Apollo called it, might not be too bad.

Apollo chuckled, “Yes, I believe Mr. Pennyworth said he’s a butler for Bruce Wayne, so you will be staying with a billionaire, actually.”

“Back up, Pennyworth? Like Alfred Pennyworth?” Percy asked.

“I believe so, are you acquainted with him?”

“Yeah, he visited me and my mom sometimes, when I was little, he brought us tea. I guess he knew my mom when she was younger or something,” Percy recalled the little cafe they would sit in, trading stories. Alfred would smile when Percy ordered the bluest item on the menu, but always carried a tiny jar of blue sprinkles for Percy’s hot cocoa. “I never knew he was one of us.”

“Well,” Apollo was becoming visibly restless, the glow under his skin shining brighter by the second. “Here, these are for your que-mission, I’m sure Valdez can show you how to use them.” He thrust two bronze boxes into Percy’s hands.

Percy quickly took the hint and covered his eyes as Apollo let the light consume him, vanishing to wherever gods go when they aren’t ruining your summer plans.

Percy rubbed his eyes, “What the Hades have I got myself into?”

Chapter Text

“Dude, this is so cool,” Leo muttered from where he sat crisscrossed on the floor of Cabin 3, literally sparking with excitement. He gently fiddled with the bronze phone and computer that Apollo had given Percy, his eyes gleaming in the way they always did when he worked with technology or machinery.

“I'm glad you think so,” Percy grinned as he flicked a stream of water to extinguish the flame that popped up in his friend's curls. “Personally, I don’t really see the point of having it.”

“I’m going to ignore that, because I refuse to believe that the only monster-proof tech went to the only demigod who couldn’t care less about it.”

Percy rolled his eyes and shoved another shirt into his duffel bag.

“Just put my mom’s number in and make sure Alfred's contact is set up, I probably won’t use it for anything else.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Leo grumbled before looking up and sending Percy a sly smile. “So, what else are you bringing?”

“What are you getting at?” Percy asked and raised a brow.

“Just wondering if you’re packing any extra weapons or anything,” Leo said quickly, shrugging in an attempt to feign innocence. “I know there aren’t as many monsters there because of the whole weird energy thing, but Gotham is still hella dangerous, even for mortals.”

“Bro,” Percy laughed, “if that’s your way of asking to build me a flamethrower or some other terrifying, untested weapon, I’m going to have to pass. I really don’t want to get blown up…again.”

“Hey!” Leo exclaimed. “My inventions are perfectly safe, well, mostly,” He added under his breath.

Percy laughed again. “As reassuring as that is, I already had Tyson bring me something from the forges.”

He reached beside him, where a package lay wrapped in soft blue fabric on his bed. He carefully unfolded it to reveal a shining silver key. Then, he gently picked up the key and flipped it in the air. The room shimmered with the telltale sign of the Mist as the metal morphed and stretched. When Percy caught it, the key had completely transformed into the familiar shape of an xiphos.

When Tyson had presented it to him, he had sensed Percy’s initial unease at handling a weapon that could hurt mortals, the celestial bronze and steel blade too reminiscent of Luke’s sword, Backbiter. Tyson had confidently reminded him that ‘Percy only hurts bad guys.’ Still, he had engraved the blade with swirling waves and sea stars, his own way of trying to comfort Percy.

“This is Asterías, Lou Ellen and the Hecate Cabin offered to charm it and conceal it.” Percy said as he showed Leo.

Leo whistled as he ran his finger along the hilt, admiring the delicately handcrafted weapon. He handed the sword back, then said, “Percy, Percy, Percy, how many times do I have to tell you that you can never have too many weapons, especially if those weapons can explode or catch on fire, or preferably both.” The son of Hephaestus shook his head like a disappointed parent.

“Tyson also gave me a couple of knives and he remade my shield watch, so I'm set, I promise.” Percy explained, returning Asterías to its form as a key. “No need for a special Valdez grenade or anything,” he joked.

“Valdez grenade! Now that’s a good idea,"Leo muttered, grabbing a pencil from his tool belt and scribbling furiously on a piece of scrap paper.

“Oh gods, what have I done?” Percy whispered to himself and stared at the scheming demigod in growing horror.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy twirled a golden drachma over his knuckles in thought. He sighed, slumping his back against the abalone wall of his cabin, the gentle trickling of the salt water fountain mocking him. He knew he should Iris Message Alfred to discuss the mission. The man had always been so kind to Percy, there was no rational reason he should be hesitant to call. 

Alfred had never cared that the rest of the world saw Percy as nothing more than a troublemaking kid in scuffed up shoes from Manhattan. Alfred had shown that he cared about Percy, he would regularly catch up with him and his mom to see how they were doing. He had even reached out when Percy was “kidnapped” and offered his help in finding him.

 And now, Percy would be moving in with the man in a few days, so he knew he should get it over with and call Alfred, but something stopped him every time Percy thought about IMing him. 

Since Percy learned Alfred was connected to the divine world, he couldn’t seem to think of him the same as before. Realistically, he knew that Alfred hadn’t changed since they last met up, but Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was different. The less logical part of Percy insisted that Alfred would view Percy differently, too. Even though sharing godly ancestors should connect the two more, he felt more separated from him. 

Percy wondered how Alfred would react when he learned the things Percy had done, the things he had had to do to simply survive. Percy wished that just one positive adult role model in his life was fully mortal and apart from his world. His mom and Paul were great, but at this point, they were deep in the divine. Alfred had been his last hope of a normal mortal mentor, but it turned out he was not only a Roman legacy, but also had been blessed by Percy's favorite goddess.

Percy closed his eyes and sighed again, working up the motivation to throw the coin through the mist when, all of a sudden, an Iris Message shimmered to life above the stone fountain near the window, as if Alfred had known Percy was about to chicken out of calling.

“Hey, Uncle Alfie, how’re you doing,” Percy called out cheerfully, moving to where the fountain rested.

“Hello, my dear boy,” Alfred responded, smiling.

“I was just about to call,” Percy totally lied, still grinning.

“Of course,” Alfred said with a knowing look. Fortunately, he didn’t press the issue. “I wanted to explain a few details of your stay in Gotham City.”

“That would be great, thanks Alfie,” Percy beamed. Frankly, he was clueless when it came to the infamous city. He didn’t really keep up with pop culture in the mortal world and he was definitely not caught up on mortal news. In his defense, staying up to date with celebrity gossip isn’t on his list of priorities when he’s literally fighting for his life so often.

“Well, perhaps the most important thing for you to know is that Batman does not like outsiders in the city, especially those with abilities like yours. Thus, you will need to exercise caution when carrying out your mission,” Alfred’s voice was deeply serious as he spoke.

“Don’t draw Batdude’s attention, got it.”

“Additionally, Master Bruce will be on a business trip for the next few days, but his children will still be at the manor. I expect you will get along very well, but I shall warn you, they can be,” Alfred paused slightly, searching for the right word, “ energetic at times.”

“Don’t worry, I have arts and crafts with Cabin 11. If I can survive competitive projectile bracelet making, I can handle a couple of hyperactive rich kids,” Percy assured him.

“Of course,” Alfred agreed, but the familiar I-know-something-you-don't look once again crossed the older man’s face.

When the call was over, Percy felt slightly more confident in his mission. He now knew the basic things he needed to know to survive in Gotham: which areas to avoid, where the harbor was, how to administer the antidotes to a concerning number of poisons, the basics.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy was sitting on his bed, glaring at the pile of clothing in front of him, as though, if he concentrated hard enough, it would all magically fold itself into his bag. Maybe he should ask Chiron if there’s a god of laundry he could pray to. Percy thought Hermes might work, him being the god of travelers and all.

Just as Percy told himself he was actually going to start, someone knocked against the heavy wood door, startling him. His eyes shot to the door and his hand immediately found the silhouette of Riptide in his pocket.

“Percy, it’s Annabeth and Grover,” a low voice called.

Percy stood to open the door and tugged his best friend into a tight hug.

“G-man! It’s so good to see you. What’re you doing at Camp, I thought you and Juniper were at that protest in the city?” Percy stepped back, tilting his head in curiosity.

“It ended early, Dare Enterprises agreed to not cut down the tree and build somewhere else,” Grover bleated out and grinned.

“Nice! I’m bummed I had to miss it, packing is the worst,” Percy frowned, gesturing at the pile of clothes and supplies half sticking out of his bag.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you hadn’t waited until the last minute,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes at him fondly.

“Whatever, we can’t all be good at planning,” Percy retorted and stuck his tongue out, very maturely, of course.

Annabeth crossed her arms and stared him down, clearly trying to hide her amusement behind annoyance. “We need to talk.”

From Percy’s experience, this never led to a happy conversation.

“About what?” He asked hesitantly, leading his friends to sit in a circle on the plush sea green rug covering the stone floor.

“Perce, are you sure you want to do this?” Grover asked and nibbled on a tin can he had pulled from his pocket, betraying his nervousness.

Percy frowned. His friends understood what life was like for a demigod, even as a son of the big three, and they didn’t try to prevent him from taking quests. They would warn him of the dangers and tell him to come back intact or else, but they didn’t try to stop him.

“Of course I don’t want to do this, but I have to. I told you what Apollo said, there’s a demigod hurting mortals,” Percy said, “I have to stop him.”

“No, you don’t,” Annabeth said, a little too sharply, she took a deep breath before continuing, “It doesn’t have to be you , Apollo can send someone else.”

“But it does.”

“Why? Why can’t someone else go?” Grover pleaded, his concern plain on his face.

“Because I know I can kill him,” Percy whispered. “I’m not sure anyone else can follow through with killing another demigod, even one as bad as he supposedly is.”

Annabeth gently took his hand and started to soothe him, “Percy-”

“Stop,” he pulled his hand away and interrupted her. “You saw me Annabeth, in Tar- in the Pit. I don’t know what he’s capable of or what he might do, but I know that I can handle it.”

“You don’t mean that,” Annabeth’s voice was quiet, eyes growing wide in alarm.

“No, I won’t do that ,” Percy amended, nearly shouting in his panic, understanding what Annabeth had mistakenly picked up on. “I won’t ever do that again. I just meant that I’ve been through a lot more than the other campers. But I would do it all over again if I had to, because otherwise someone else would, and I couldn’t live with myself if I just sat there and watched,” Percy said, his voice shaky but firm.

Even as the empathy link had faded with time and physical distance and divine meddling, Percy had been able to sense the faint traces of Grover’s emotions. And as they sat there, Percy felt the sadness rolling of his best friend in waves.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Grover spoke after a moment, “We were being selfish, trying to keep you here, with us.”

Percy gave him a soft smile, accepting his apology.

“What about your mom?” Annabeth asked. She was not ready to move on.

“I already told her and she understands. I mean she’s upset, but she gets it,” Percy shrugged.

“What about college?” Annabeth asked and crossed her arms against her chest in frustration. “Classes at New Rome start in a few weeks, what if you aren’t done with this mission in time?” The disdain was evident in her voice.

Percy tried to ease the blanket of tension that had spread across the room. “Me and school never got along anyway,” he joked.

Grover awkwardly chuckled and looked back and forth between them nervously, chewing on a paper plate.

“Ugh!” Annabeth ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. “Can’t you take something seriously for once? I’m trying to get you to understand and you’re joking around like none of it matters.” She stood up to pace the length of the room.

“Understand what, Annabeth?” Percy demanded and stood to meet her level, his voice rising in volume and intensity. “Please, tell me how school could possibly be so important that it beats stopping a demigod from murdering innocent mortals and revealing the secrets of the gods,” he practically screamed the final words.

“Because you’d be safe!” She cried, abruptly ceasing her pacing and standing on the other side of the cabin. A tear ran down her cheek and when she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “Because New Rome would keep you safe. Because I wouldn’t have to wake up every morning and wonder if it was the day that something finally got you.”

Percy couldn’t speak for a moment, face slack in shock.

“Annabeth, I-” he began, voice quiet, “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

Annabeth shook her head in dejection and silently walked out of the cabin, leaving the door to swing slightly in the breeze. Grover stood to follow her, but turned back to Percy as he reached the door.

“I know you think you have to do this, so I won’t even try to stop you. Good luck, I guess,” he muttered, slipping out the door and shutting it with a final click behind him.

Chapter Text

Percy fidgeted in his seat on the faded leather sofa. He tapped his foot and twisted the clay beads on his necklace. When Chiron had called him to the Big House, Percy had known to prepare for the familiar anti-pep talk the centaur liked to give before quests. Chiron was by far the best teacher Percy had ever had, though his Pre-Algebra teacher had ended up to be a Fury and tried to drag him to Hades, so maybe Percy didn’t have the best frame of reference. However, instead of the usual depressing don’t-die-like-the-other-heroes-I’ve-trained talk, Chiron started to try to talk him out of leaving. It was safe to say Percy was entirely confused.

“Did she put you up to this?” Percy asked hesitantly, it went without saying who ‘she’ was. Basically the entire camp knew Annabeth and Percy were fighting as soon as they had sat at different tables in the dining pavilion for the first time in months.

“No, Perseus, though she has shared her concerns with me,” Chiron said, his tired smile sagging at the corners.

“Uh oh, full name,” Percy joked. “Am I in trouble?” Chiron only used his full name when Percy had done something stupid like try to balance Riptide on his nose or if something was really wrong.

“No,” Chiron said, rubbing at his temples. “I fear what Gotham has in store for you, we both know your propensity for finding trouble.”

“It’s more like trouble has a propesanty for finding me ,” Percy said through a smirk. He hoped he used that word right, he’d be embarrassed if he was way off.

“Indeed,” Chiron chuckled fondly, but the centaur’s smile faded further. He silently stared at the demigod in deep thought. After a long moment, he sighed, stroking his beard. “I suppose you should change your clothes, then.”

Percy was speechless, which didn’t happen often. He had been ready for Chiron to fight him on the matter more, but the way he had simply conceded almost made it seem like Chiron knew something he didn’t, which honestly might be the case, he was an immortal horse-man who had trained countless heroes for thousands of years.

Percy thanked him before trudging back to his cabin to change and collect his things. He picked out a clean Nirvana band tee and the least holey jeans he owned. He layered a long sleeve striped with shades of blue underneath to cover his arms and a baby blue beanie to hide the streak in his hair. He tugged on his favorite chucks, the ones that Rachel had doodled all over in shades of blue and green paint.

He had already said his goodbyes to Camp and his family in Manhattan. The only person he hadn’t spoken to was Annabeth, but every time he tried, they fought. It hurt. A lot. They had been best friends, allies, partners for nearly six years, but they couldn’t seem to get past this fight.

They had decided to take a break from each other, Annabeth was spending the final weeks of summer at camp then going to New Rome and Percy was going on this mission and then…he wasn’t sure. College didn’t sound all that appealing, not after years of struggling in school. But, he had no clue what career he might be interested in either because he hadn’t ever believed he would ever be old enough to have one.

When he had been introduced to the world of the gods, he had accepted early on that he would die young. That’s just the way the life of a demigod goes. But, the Romans had shown him that maybe he could make it past his teens. So, now he was faced with a future he hadn’t thought he could have, forced to find a path that had never been open to him.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a shining golden drachma.

“Stêthi! Ô hárma diabolês,” He shouted in Ancient Greek and tossed the coin onto the road.

The pavement swallowed the drachma and Percy waited expectantly. After a moment the asphalt darkened, deep red-ish shadows pooled where the coin had disappeared. It melted and bubbled, horrifyingly reminiscent of blood. Suddenly, a silvery taxi burst out of the puddle into the road, tires bouncing slightly with the force of its ascent. The cab resembled every other New York City taxi, except its surface shifted like smoke trapped behind glass. Written on the side was ‘Gray Sisters’ in a very dyslexia-unfriendly font. For a service mostly geared towards demigods, they didn’t seem to care if their logo was readable.

He sighed and slid into the crumbling, cracked seat. He was definitely starting to regret not taking Blackjack.

“Gotham City, please.”

The three greasy women in the front hunched in the front seat whipped around to look at him. Or well, the one with the eye looked at him, the other two sisters just turned their dirty, wrinkled faces in his general direction.

“Gotham? Hmm?” The lady who currently had the tooth shrieked, her voice grated against his ears like jagged metal on concrete.

“Out-of-metro fee!” The woman gripping the steering wheel with bony fingers cried.

The third sister blinked the bloodshot green eye at him, or winked? It was hard to tell because she only had the one eye. Then, the sisters turned back towards the road and floored it. The taxi shot forward as Percy scrambled to clip the rusty chain that was supposed to serve as a seatbelt, he remembered being thrown around last time and was not eager for a repeat.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy stumbled out of the cab, his stomach was churning and his head was spinning. He took a swig of water from the bottle in his bag, letting the cool water revive him. He was grateful to be back on solid ground, the taxi was efficient, but the sisters had screamed and fought over the eye and yellow tooth the whole way. Not to mention, the sisters hadn’t let off the gas pedal the entire ride, breaking every traffic law Percy could think of.

He had told them to drop him a block away, he figured the Waynes would probably be weirded out by three crusty old ladies driving a taxi made of smoke. So, he shouldered his duffel and started the walk to the Manor. Luckily for him, the few minutes he spent walking were just enough to send him deep into a state of anxiety. 

Now that he had a moment to process what he had gotten himself into, he realized he was entirely unprepared for his mission. How in the gods’s names was he supposed to take down a supervillain that had plagued the streets of Gotham for years? The local vigilantes, who had dedicated their lives, or their nights at least, to fighting crime had failed and now Percy was expected to get it done in a few weeks.

By the time he reached the massive iron gate, Percy was nervous in a way he hadn’t been for years. One would think the twice Savior of Olympus could easily deal with whatever weird rich people shit he would encounter, but the air around the manor felt off. Sure, Percy could practically kill a cyclops in his sleep and he’d survived multiple wars against beings far scarier than anything a mortal could throw at him, but Percy didn’t know what to expect from his stay in the manor, and that made him nervous.

Before he could spiral even deeper into his thoughts, the gates swung open, strangely silent. As he walked down the absurdly long gravel path, Percy finally cleared his head enough to fully take in the sight of the manor. He could feel the rolling waves of the Atlantic, far below the cliff on which the manor was perched overlooking the bay. 

Percy furrowed his brow as a realization struck him. The ocean wasn’t the only water he sensed. He was also aware of what felt like a waterfall as well as some sort of large body of water, hidden partially beneath the manor and carved into the rocky cliff. He tucked away the knowledge for later. 

The manor itself was massive, easily the biggest house Percy had ever seen, towering at least four stories tall. The grounds were meticulously kept but the creeping ivy and blood red roses only enhanced the creepy, haunted mansion vibe, Annabeth would know a better word for the aesthetic.

Percy sighed and gripped the strap of his duffel bag tighter, fighting the urge to turn around and go back home. His mom would love to see him and it felt like Estelle was getting bigger every day, he hated to spend so much time away from them. He sighed again, forcing his feet to carry him the final steps up to the doorstep. The large mahogany door loomed over him, the bronze lion head knockers frozen in twin snarls. If the Waynes had intended to scare away solicitors, it was definitely working. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing a gentleman- Percy couldn’t imagine the person before him could ever be just a man- with graying hair. He was dressed in a smart black suit and shining black shoes.

“Uncle Alfie!” Percy grinned, dropping his bag to envelop the man in a tight hug.

Despite IMing frequently, they hadn’t had the chance to visit in person in months. They had met up once since the Pit to chat but then school had started and Percy had to fight to catch up with what he had missed thanks to Hera. Then, Percy had been busy at Camp all summer. The battle with Gaea from the previous summer had left Camp in rough shape. Wherever he looked there were buildings to be repaired and new cabins for the minor gods to be built and countless other tasks to restore Camp Half-Blood to its former glory. Not to mention, the ground itself had to be repaired because the hordes of monsters had torn up the soil and the Earth Mother had created roiling mounds throughout the camp. Needless to say, Percy had been kept busy, even occasionally driving up to Long Island on weekends during the school year to help out.

“Percy, my dear boy, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Alfred smiled, reaching up to return the embrace.

“ Uncle ?” A boy repeated, voice dripping in disdain, causing Percy to step back, his hand twitching towards his pocket where he knew Riptide waited.

“Pennyworth, who is this boy?” the young man spat. His dark green eyes narrowed dangerously, and he, oddly enough, also appeared to be itching to reach for a weapon.

Percy kept his face carefully neutral, his eyes flicked to Alfred, who simply gave a comforting nod. At this, Percy forced his shoulders to relax, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt around his wrists, exhaling slowly to calm himself.

Alfred ushered Percy through the door and turned to face the young boy. “Master Damian, this is Percy Jackson, the boy I told you about, please try to be welcoming to our guest,” he said in his familiar British accent.

“Hey, I’ll be staying here for a bit,” Percy said and shrugged, allowing a small smile to spread onto his face. He kicked off his shoes and picked his bag up.

“Tsk. I am Damian Wayne, blood son and heir of Bruce Wayne,” the boy introduced himself smugly, practically looking down his nose at Percy, despite being nearly a full foot shorter.

Percy furrowed his brows, did this preteen really just ‘tsk ’ at him? 

Luckily, before Damian had the chance to continue his interrogation, a boy around Percy’s age with a large mug and a man in his mid-twenties strode into the foyer.

“You must be Percy! I’m Dick Grayson.” The older of the two, dressed in a concerningly vivid floral button-up, grinned, sticking out his hand to shake. “Sorry about Dami, it’s been such a struggle to get him housetrained.” As he shook his head in amusement, his black hair fell messily into dark blue eyes, creating a striking image against his tan skin.

Percy snorted, admittedly at both the man’s comment and his name, after all, he was a teenage boy. “No problem, I’ve got a cousin just like him, too much grumpy attitude packed into a 5 foot frame.”

The second boy, a teen around Percy’s age, also with dark hair and blue eyes, laughed, choking on his coffee as he did. “Oh my god, I love you already,” he coughed into the sleeve of his navy hoodie, “I’m Tim.”

Percy grinned at Tim. “Thanks, it’s a cozy place you’ve got here, real quaint,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, it’s a bit much, I still get lost sometimes,” said yet another boy, sliding into the room on mismatched socks. “I’m Duke,” the boy nodded at Percy, deep brown coils bouncing against dark skin.

“Oh my gods, how many of them are there?” Percy asked and spun his head to stare at Alfred.

The butler chuckled softly, “Masters Timothy, Duke, and Damian live in the Manor, but Master Dick has an apartment in Bludhaven. You will likely also see Master Jason, though he lives in the city. Miss Cassandra is in Hong Kong for work, and Miss Stephanie and Miss Barbara, not legally members of the family, but they often come by the Manor.”

“And I thought my family was big,” Percy shook his head, trying to commit the new information to memory.

“Luckily, our situation is quite different,” Alfred winked at Percy before addressing the others. “Dinner shall be served shortly, why don’t you show Percy to his room while I finish preparing the meal.”

“Sure, Alfred,” Dick smiled and began to lead the way up the grand staircase.

As they walked through the halls, the brothers would point out various rooms they passed. Or, more accurately, Tim and Dick would point out rooms, whereas Damian just silently marched behind them, never taking his eyes off Percy.

“So, Percy,” Tim began, attempting casualty, but Percy could see the calculating look behind his pale blue-grey eyes. “What’re you doing in Gotham? I can’t imagine anyone would want to vacation here.”

“What? A guy can’t appreciate a city of creepy gargoyles, nocturnal vigilante bat furries, and the weirdest crimes ever?” Percy smirked as Tim once again choked on his coffee, Dick chuckled, and Damian just looked outright deadly. “What? Did I touch a nerve?”

“Gothamites are very…defensive of the city’s heroes,” Tim replied, searching for the right words, the sharp look now evident on his face. “But you didn’t answer.”

“True,” Percy met Tim’s suspicion with a blank face. He took a moment to study the portraits they passed, careful to leave his body language open, even as he longed to feel the comfortable weight of Riptide in his hand. When he answered, they had already reached his room. “I’m here for work, I guess.”

“With which company? Father may have discussed it,” Damian asked, not bothering to hide his distrust. 

At least one of them was easy to read, Percy thought. The others seemed like professionals at schooling their demeanor to present the perfect facade, all while mentally dissecting him. For what? Lies? Holes in his story? Weaknesses? Percy didn’t know.

“It’s a private, family-run business, you probably don’t know it,” Percy replied easily, opening the door. “Well, thanks for showing me around, but I’m going to try and unpack a bit before dinner,” he added, a clear dismissal to his welcome committee.

“Right, we’ll leave you to it, then,” Dick shot his younger brothers a look, more or less shoving them down the hallway and calling behind him, “Just come downstairs when you’re ready.”

Percy nodded and closed the door, finally able to take a deep breath without the suffocating feeling of being watched. He flopped face down onto the massive plush bed and groaned. “Oh my gods, why is my life like this?”

There was something very obviously off about Wayne Manor. The house itself was creepily quiet and its inhabitants were decidedly up to something. He was dreading sneaking around Gotham even more, he now had to watch for the Bats when he was out in the city and the Waynes when he wasn’t.

He wished Annabeth were there. She would know what to say and why the Waynes gave off such weird energy and what to do about this stupid mission. But he had to go screw everything up and now he couldn’t even talk to his friend, no matter how badly he wanted to. They both needed space, which was what had caused their break up in the first place. In the Pit, they had grown so reliant on each other it was hard to think of themselves as separate people afterwards. It was never just Percy or just Annabeth, always Percy and Annabeth. Maybe, if they hadn’t fallen down there, they would still be together. It felt like his relationship was just yet another thing he had lost to the world of the gods.

Percy tore himself from his musings, now was not the time to spiral. He groaned again and rolled over to glare at the ornate geometric design carved into the ceiling, gathering the energy to get up.

Trying to make himself somewhat more presentable, Percy tugged off his hat and messed with his hair a bit. A losing battle if you asked him, but his mom had always tried to tame his curls into behaving, looks like the habit stuck. In the attached bathroom, Percy splashed cool water onto his face, willed himself dry, and did his best to collect his thoughts.

Hesitantly, he dug Asterías out of the side pocket of his duffel bag and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans. Maybe he was being a bit paranoid, but Percy wanted to be prepared for anything. Logically, he knew the Waynes were regular mortals, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were hiding something. And he was going to figure it out.

 ‘It’s just dinner , it can’t be that bad’ he assured himself. He should have known that his patented demigod luck wouldn’t allow for a nice, peaceful family gathering.

Chapter Text

Percy strolled into the kitchen, having easily retraced his steps to the foyer then wandered a bit before finding the right room. Tim, Dick, and a buff man that Percy didn’t recognize were gathered around a small table off to the side. The trio shifted their attention up at Percy as soon as he walked in, passing a look between themselves that he couldn’t quite identify.

“Oh, hey, you must be Jason, right?” Percy said and did his best to smile politely. He immediately regretted it when the man visibly tensed, rising to his full height and squaring his shoulders.

“Who’re you?” He asked, voice gruff and low, no hint of the easy-going demeanor he had just worn with his brothers.

Percy matched his energy, reaching to curl his fingers around Asterìas where it rested in his pocket, cautious but ready to fight if he had to. The man was armed, Percy could see the faint outline of a knife holster beneath his t-shirt and, based on the thin white scars along his arms, he had plenty of experience using it. That or he had a messy encounter with a very angry cat at some point.

“I’m Percy,” he said and, after a moment of consideration, added, “Jackson.” He narrowed his eyes, gripping Asterías tighter.

The man simply grunted in recognition. “I’m Jason, Alfred told me about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Percy smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Nice hair,” Jason said and seemed prepared to study his response.

Percy faltered, bewildered at the bizarre shift in conversation. Maybe talking about haircuts was Jason’s way of bonding, he wondered. Percy looked to Dick and Tim, gauging their reactions, but they looked just as serious as their brother, apparently all the Waynes were deeply interested in his hair style choices.

“Um thanks?” Percy stammered, thoroughly confused, that is until he noticed a streak of white almost hidden amidst Jason’s black hair, a streak concerningly similar to Percy’s own. In fact, Jason, apart from his scarily muscled build, looked eerily similar to Percy, down to the green eyes and scars across their skin. 

His eyes widened and narrowed again, “Yours is pretty cool, too.”

“Thanks, I got it when I was a few years younger than you,” and, despite Jason’s tough appearance, Percy recognized the cold calculating look that his siblings had had earlier, a look that all of the Waynes present currently had.

Seriously , what kind of rich people, haunted mansion shit is going on? Percy mentally kicked himself for trusting Apollo to find a suitable place to stay.

“Mine’s a souvenir from a trip I took when I was 14,” Percy replied and raised an eyebrow, two could play at vague answers. He didn’t miss Tim pulling his phone out and texting someone at a speed Percy didn’t think possible.

Percy sensed Alfred before he entered the room, forcing himself to wait to turn until the Waynes acknowledged the butler.

“Young masters, I do hope you are treating our guest respectably,” Alfred stated, a knowing glint in his eye as he looked carefully between Percy, Tim and Dick, and Jason. “Percy is a personal friend of mine and shall be treated civilly.”

Percy felt himself relax under the man’s watch, letting himself relax under the safety of a familiar face at his side.

“What do you mean, personal friend , Pennyworth?” Damian demanded, literally appearing out of the walls.

“Holy Her-heck, kid!” Percy startled.

Evidently, the boy had slipped out from inside, what Percy had assumed to be, a solid wall. On further inspection, Percy could just barely see the faint seam of a hidden door. He made a note to himself to be more vigilant, something was up with Wayne Manor, and he needed to be cautious.

“Master Damian, must I remind you that using the passageways to surprise our guests is not appropriate behavior?” Under Alfred’s scolding stare, Damian frowned and mumbled something under his breath, maybe an apology, but most likely a threat to Percy’s general well-being. Satisfied, Alfred turned to begin pulling various dishes from the cabinets.

“Well, that was certainly concerning,” Percy smirked, “Reminds me of home.” Cabin 11 had given Percy plenty of experience with kids suddenly popping out of strange places and threatening to hurt him. Tim frowned and sent another text.

“To answer your question, Master Damian, Percy’s mother is a dear friend of mine, we met years ago through our mutual passion for literature, and have stayed in touch since,” Alfred informed the youngest boy, who let out a quiet hmph.

“Sally is the best, isn’t she,” Percy couldn’t help but grin thinking about his mom, Alfred mirrored it with his own as he left the kitchen, carrying the stack of dishes.

“Wait, are you telling me that Sally Jackson is your mother?” Jason asked.

“Sally Jackson-Blofis actually, but, yeah?”

“The best-selling author ?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s her, do you read her books?” Perhaps Percy had judged this guy too fast, anyone who could appreciate his mom and her writing probably couldn’t be that bad.

“ Yeah , I read her books,” Jason said, looking at Percy like he was an idiot, unfortunately years in public school with ADHD and dyslexia left Percy all too familiar with that look. “I’m dying waiting for the third book, the last one killed me with that cliffhanger. I heard that she had to delay it ‘cause of some personal emergency,” Jason said, genuinely bummed out, but he had lost most of the tension in his stance. 

Percy wished more fights could be deescalated by talking about how awesome his mom is, it would make his life a lot easier.

“My bad,” Percy said sheepishly, “I went missing for a few months and she took some time away from her writing.”

The room went quiet, no one was quite sure of how to respond, even Tim forced his gaze from his phone to stare at Percy.

“I’m just gonna ignore that for now,” Dick sighed. “ Anyway , as entertaining as it’s been to watch Jason fangirl over Percy’s mom, I think Alfred’s done with dinner,” he continued as he pushed Tim, who had gone back to his frantic typing, towards the dining room, leaving the others to follow behind.

Percy let the Waynes find their chairs first, unsure of where he was expected to sit. Thankfully, when Tim noticed Percy standing awkwardly by the door, he called him over and offered the seat between himself and Duke. Percy was hesitant to sit anywhere near Damian, even if it was across the huge oak table, but he sat anyway, glad that Jason also sat across from him. Percy thought they would get along, Jason reminded him of Clarisse a bit, tough on the outside but nice enough in their own way when they warm up to you.

Alfred brought out platters piled with vegetables and mashed potatoes and rolls and roasted meat. The butler set a plate piled high with food in front of each person. The rest of the table was already digging in, savoring the meal, but Percy had lost his appetite. The stress of the day was finally getting to him and the smell wafting off the steak reminded him too much of dinner at Camp. Percy poked at his potatoes, struggling to keep his breathing even. When he looked up, Damian was watching him with narrowed eyes, because of course he was.

“Is something wrong?” Oh good, Tim had also noticed.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired,” Percy lied, but it was obvious nobody believed him. 

The last thing he needed was everyone worried about what he was, or rather, wasn’t, eating. Percy carefully took a sip of water, willing his nerves to settle. This was not working, Percy could feel himself panicking and he needed to get out. 

“Can someone show me to the bathroom?”

Tim nodded and stood up, his heavy wooden chair scraping against the stone tile with a squeal. Percy winced and followed him into the hall as his heart began to race. He offered a brief smile in thanks when they reached the bathroom, though it probably came across as more of a grimace. Tim nodded in return, concern plain on his face.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy gripped the edge of the sink, taking slow, deliberate breaths in and out. He really didn’t want to explode another bathroom because his body went into fight or flight, this time over a stupid plate of food. He turned the faucet to let ice cold water run over his hands in an attempt to ground him.

A soft knock at the door caused him to jump, hand flying to hold Riptide, thumb on the cap, ready for a fight. Even though the celestial bronze blade wouldn’t touch a mortal, Percy had instinctively gone for the familiar weight of the only sword that had ever felt like it belonged in his grasp.

“Percy?” A quiet voice called to him. “Are you alright, my boy?”

Percy shut the sink off and opened the door, hand only slightly shaky, which he would take as a win.

“Yeah, I’m okay, Uncle Alfie,” He answered in a small voice, trying to reassure the older man, but his voice broke and Alfred’s frown deepened.

“I’m just frustrated and sad and embarrassed , I thought I was over this, it’s been more than a year,” Percy sighed. He rubbed his eyes with his palms to hide the gathering tears. 

“We both know progress isn’t linear, and you have recovered remarkably, considering all you went through.” The butler gently placed a comforting hand on Percy’s shoulder.

“I know,” Percy inhaled shakily, starting to walk back to the dining room. “Who would’ve thought living off of a literal river of fire would have screwed up my relationship with food,” he quipped.

Alfred was not pleased with Percy’s attempt to make light of the situation. “Percy, is there someone you would like me to call?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll probably IM Mr. D later and I’ll try to talk to Nico soon, he’s been struggling with similar stuff,” Percy told Alfred, whose frown was replaced by a more neutral facade.

They stopped short of entering the dining room, turning to look at each other. 

“What about Annabeth?” Alfred asked hesitantly.

Percy tugged at his sleeves, buying time to answer. “She doesn’t- we aren’t really talking right now. We sorta had a fight. She’s at NRU and asked me to join her next semester, she didn’t want me to come here. I don’t know, it’s just complicated.”

“Alright then, if you are quite certain.” Alfred thought for a moment and added, “I shall supply you with snacks you may keep in your room, for when you do feel up to eating, and please let me know if I can help in any other way.”

“Thank you, Uncle Alfie, really. It’s nice to have someone that understands what it’s like. I know my mom tries, but she’s not like us,” Percy said quietly.

“I know,” Alfred replied and wrapped his arms around the young demigod, pulling him into a tight hug.

Percy took one last deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, and stepped back into the dining room. The Waynes promptly pretended they hadn’t been listening through the door and started chatting about nothing in particular. Percy just rolled his eyes and sat back down as Alfred began clearing the table. Of course, Percy jumped right back up to help with the after dinner chores when he noticed, leaving the Waynes gaping at him in surprise.

“Relax, I’m just helping out with the dishes because I wasn’t raised by wolves and my mother taught me to be helpful ,” Percy smirked, rolling his eyes at them. “Actually, I have-had a friend that was raised by wolves and he offered to clean up when he ate at my place, so you guys definitely don’t have an excuse,” he added, taking a stack of plates into the kitchen. 

It was true, too, Jason had always made sure to help clean up when he visited. Like a lot of Percy’s friends, he had craved the presence of a loving parent figure in his life and, like the saint she is, Sally had welcomed him with open arms. Over the past year, the Jackson-Blofis apartment had become a sort of haven for demigods. There were usually at least a couple campers over for dinner on the weekends, and a few, like Nico and Jason, even stopped by to visit during the week.

As soon as the Waynes assumed Percy was out of earshot, they began whispering about the conversation they had overheard. Unfortunately for them, Percy had excellent hearing thanks to his godly not-DNA.

“Didn’t eat…calls Alfred uncle…NRU… wolves .” Percy had heard enough.

He marched back into the dining room and mustered up a false sense of self-confidence. “If you’re going to gossip about me, you might as well get the information straight from the source,” he told them, jaw set and shoulders back.

“Oh, we weren’t-” Tim started.

“Dude, I literally heard you from the kitchen, next time you’re trying to talk about someone behind their back, maybe wait for them to get more than a wall away.”

At least they had the decency to look embarrassed, well most of them, Damian just frowned and muttered something in a language Percy couldn’t understand.

“Sorry about that, we were being rude.” Dick shot his little brother a we’ll-discuss-this-later look and turned to Percy. “How about we hang out later, that way we can get to know each other.”

Percy realized it wasn’t an invitation, it was an order. “Okay, did you wanna watch a movie or something?” he suggested, surely watching a movie would be super chill and lowkey and not at all stressful.

As usual, he was incredibly wrong.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy and the others were spread out across a large theater room on the second floor of the manor. Comfy recliners, sofas, and beanbags were positioned haphazardly to face the massive screen at the front of the room. Percy tried to choose a chair against a wall, with both exits in sight, but the nature of the room made it impossible, as such, Percy’s view of the door on the right was partially obstructed, leaving him on edge. Alfred had made popcorn for each of them, but Percy’s container remained untouched at his feet, though he happily sipped on the electric blue slushie Alfred offered.

“I was thinking we could watch the new Jake Steel movie, I heard it’s supposed to be good,” Tim said as Duke rapidly clicked a remote.

“No you didn’t, you just think Tristan McLean is hot,” Duke teased, causing Tim’s ears to turn pink.

Percy choked on his drink and started coughing. “Oh my gods, ew!” Realizing how that sounded and noticing the subtle uncomfort and hurt on Tim’s face, Percy quickly backtracked. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m Grecian, thinking men are hot is practically in my blood,” he amended. “My problem is thinking Tristan McLean is hot, that’s all.”

“Why? He’s actually pretty nice, I got to meet him at a gala Bruce held a while back,” Dick asked.

“Huh, small world,” Percy said thoughtfully. “But, it’s gross because he’s my friend’s dad.”

“You expect us to believe you are friends with Piper McLean?” Damian chimed in, having been content to quietly observe until that point.

“I’ve got connections in high places,” Percy winked and added, “And low places, but why do you care so much?”

Damian spluttered, visibly flustered. “I appreciate the connection to her heritage she displays in her video diary.”

“Oh this is too good, Demon Brat watches Percy’s friend’s vlogs ,” Jason cackled, barely looking away from the pieces of popcorn he was throwing into the air and catching in his mouth.

“Should I get her autograph for you?” Percy deadpanned, then laughed at the murderous glare Damian sent his way.

Dick stepped in before his youngest brother could draw a weapon, although he was struggling to hide his own grin. “Okay, so we’re not watching that, how about Hercules? The soundtrack is arguably one of the best to come from an animated movie.”

“No way, Circus Boy, it’s so inaccurate to the original mythology!” Surprisingly, Jason spoke before Percy had the chance to. The man was definitely growing on Percy.

“Thank you! It’s insufferable and Heracles is the literal worst,” Percy added.

“Can we just pick already?” Tim groaned, sinking deeper into the couch he was sharing with Dick.

“Do you have any suggestions, Timmy?” Dick poked him, prompting Tim to slap his hand away.

“How about Lilo and Stitch?” Tim mumbled from underneath a blanket, piquing Percy’s interest.

“Is that good with everyone?” Dick asked, looking around for any objections.

“For sure,” Percy answered, perhaps a little too quickly.

“You a fan?” Jason drawled, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, I just appreciate the weird blue alien causing absolute chaos that the government has to deal with, it reminds me of my childhood,” Percy quipped, “Also, there’s surfing.”

“Can’t you say anything that isn’t vague and concerning?” Tim asked.

“Afraid not, Tiny Tim,” Percy shot back.

“Did you just call me-”

“As much as I’d love to see where this goes, I’m pushing play so shut up,” Duke interrupted.

Tim glared past his blanket at Percy, who just flashed a grin and winked, making Tim roll his eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Chapter Text

Percy opened his eyes to the inside of a dim, stainless steel elevator. Without hesitating, he threw himself forward, squeezing both sides of the doors together. He couldn’t feel the doors trying to tear open, but he wouldn’t risk moving his hands to test it.

“ Di immortales ,” he began spewing curses in English, Ancient Greek, and Latin, “Shit, shit, shit, shit,”

The last thing he remembered was going to bed and now he was in an elevator rapidly descending what seemed to be a very long way. “I’m so fucked .”

He tried desperately to wake himself up, to no avail. Before his time in the Pit, Percy was no stranger to nightmares, but since his trip down, they were more vivid, more frequent, and overall more horrifying. However, the worst part of his nightmares was that he often forgot he was dreaming. His visions were so intense that his mind tricked him into thinking they were reality.

At last, the doors started to force themselves open, and without handles to hold, Percy quickly lost his grip on the polished metal. He forced himself to breath, trembling as he pulled Riptide from his pocket. If he was going down, he was going down fighting.

Silently, the doors slid open to reveal an enormous room.

He panicked. 

The walls were dark and rocky, creating the feeling that they were pressing in on him, despite the size of the cavern. Above him, the faint fluorescent lights did nothing to dispel the red-tinged smog choking his lungs and he couldn’t breath . 

He gasped, desperate to escape the sulfuric clouds and dropped to his knees, onto jagged black glass- no, onto smooth concrete . He was kneeling on concrete , which didn’t make sense because Tartarus has sand sharp enough to pierce skin, not concrete .

Percy took a shuddering breath, running his fingers against the impossibly smooth surface. He forced his face upwards to look around. The walls were made of rock, like the space had been carved into stone but lacked the roughness of the Pit’s terrain.

Looking closer, he could see that the cavern was split into several layers, with metal bridges and staircases connecting separate areas, though, from where he stood on the lowest level, his view was mostly blocked. He could only just see the edges of a library that would make any Athena kid drool, a laboratory with tools Percy couldn’t identify in a million years, and a huge gym on the upper floors.

On a platform in the corner nearest the elevator, a sprawling computer setup shone brightly in the gloom, nearby, a wide tunnel led to what looked to be a garage. Along a different wall stood a collection of trophy cases. Inside the tall glass was armor and weapons from a wide range of eras and regions, ranging from wickedly sharp throwing knives to a Roman galea, and even a few superhero uniforms.

But, what really intrigued Percy was the rushing river winding along the back wall. Even sectioned off by a metal railing, Percy could tell that it was moving quickly, the dark, murky water speeding from one end of the cave to the other before continuing underground.

Unfortunately, before Percy could investigate further, the elevator doors opened and a group of people emerged, cloaked in the shadows. Percy immediately sprinted over to the trophy cases, hiding behind a medieval suit of armor. At the same time, another group appeared from the garage, meeting the others at the computer. As they gathered around a table near the monitors, the glare of the screens illuminated their faces. Or rather, the visible parts of their faces, because each person wore some sort of mask to conceal their identities.

At the head of the table sat a large man in a grey suit, his black cape connected at the neck to a black cowl with pointy ears. He grumbled in frustration as the others meandered their way to their seats, clearly in no hurry. At last, a man in a black skin tight suit with a graphic of a blue bird stretching its wings down his arms sat next to him, prompting the rest to follow suit.

On the left sat a small boy dressed in the colors of a traffic light, a woman in purple, an empty seat, and a man with a sculpted red helmet. On the right, the blue bird guy was joined by a man in red and black, a man in yellow with a cowl similar to the leader’s, and the other two seats, as well as the seat on the other end of the table, were left empty. The collection of colors left Percy thinking of some strange Clue reenactment; they were only missing Ms. White and Mr. Green.

“We need to talk,” the leader said, his gruff voice echoing through the cave.

The sudden noise woke up a few bats, they screeched and flew around the ceiling of the cave. The scene was a bit cinematic for Percy’s taste, but he could appreciate the dedication to their theme. Everywhere he looked, he could see bat imagery, a couple of the people even wore bat symbols plastered across their chests.

Wait a minute, Percy thought, and actually gasped, slapping a hand across his mouth to keep quiet. Capes. Bats. Secret underground headquarters. Holy shit, was he in Batman’s lair ?

Sure enough, as he studied the group, he began to identify the vigilantes that patrolled the streets of Gotham. The guy who had spoken was obviously Batman himself, which meant the little one on his left side was Robin, then Spoiler, and Red Hood. To his right must be Nightwing, Red Robin, and Signal. He reminded himself to thank Rachel Dare for the lesson on Gotham’s crime fighting squad.

“Where’s Oracle?” Signal asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to him. Percy could have sworn he recognized his voice.

“She’s having dinner with her dad,” Nightwing said, once again in an agonizingly familiar voice. The vigilante shifted in his seat, pulling his legs up to sit crisscrossed in a position Percy wasn’t sure the human body could achieve.

 Signal gave a little hum of acknowledgement, content to spin back and forth slightly in the office chair like a normal person.

Once they were mostly settled, Batman continued, his deep intonation easily carrying to where Percy crouched. “I assume you have all met him?”

“I haven’t,” Spoiler said, tapping her foot to a rhythm only she could follow. “But, if he’s as hot as RR said, I’m definitely coming over soon.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh my god!” Red Robin yelled and punched her shoulder, and oh my gods Percy knew that voice. This time, there was no question of who it could be. Red Robin was Tim .

Percy’s mind went into overdrive trying to comprehend the information. Red Robin was Tim. Tim was Red Robin. And of course he recognized Signal and Nightwing’s voices, it was Duke and Dick. Which meant the others were the rest of the Waynes. People liked to call Percy stupid, but he could easily fill in the rest of the blanks.

Red Hood had to be Jason, they were both built like tanks and shared a fondness for leather. Robin was clearly Damian, the terrifying glare matched up. He wasn’t exactly sure who Spoiler was, but she was probably either the Barbara, Stephanie, or Cassandra that Alfred had mentioned.

And that brought him to Batman. Bruce Wayne. Batman was Bruce Wayne. Owner of Wayne Enterprises, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and apparently local vigilante. Honestly, Percy couldn’t even be surprised, he had seen crazier.

“Aww!” Nightwing gushed, “Little Red’s got a crush.”

“Shut up,” Red Robin groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Alright, focus up,” Batman said as he suppressed a smile, “What do we have so far?”

“He keeps saying weird things,” Red Hood said, twirling a knife in his hand.

Batman frowned. “Like what?”

“He mentioned a college called NRU, but I couldn’t find any universities that go by that abbreviation, at least not in the United Sta-,” Nightwing started.

“Boring,” Red Hood cut in, “I’m more worried about the way he talked to Alfred.”

“Explain,” Batman demanded, shifting his focus.

“He said something about how it’s nice to have someone who understands because his mom ‘isn’t like them’,” Red Hood continued.

Batman grunted. “What else?”

“He said something about a friend raised by wolves,” Signal offered.

“Also, there’s a girl, Annabeth, who he seems to be in a relationship with,” Nightwing said.

“Sorry Red,” Spoiler said with hyperbolic solemnity before cracking up.

Red Robin glared and rolled his eyes. “I also noticed a tattoo on his right forearm, could be gang affiliated.”

“If you can get a good shot of it from the security footage I can tell you if it's local,” Red Hood offered.

Red Robin nodded and began typing furiously on a laptop. Percy hadn’t even seen where he retrieved it from, but maybe he had freakishly large pockets in his costume.

Nightwing spoke hesitantly, “He has personal connections to some powerful people.”

“His exact words were ‘I have connections in high places and low places’,” Damian added.

“We can’t trust what he tells us,” Batman said to the group. “Red Robin go over what we know for a fact .”

It was like a switch was flipped on Red Robin. Instantly, he lost his relaxed, joking attitude and straightened his posture. He retrieved a manila folder from the desk and stood to face the rest of the group. “Perseus Jackson, goes by Percy. Born August 18th, currently 17 years old. His mother is an author-”

“Dude, she’s not just an author, she’s written some of the best fantasy I’ve ever read,” Red Hood interrupted, glaring at his brother.

“Whatever,” Red Robin muttered, rearranging his files before continuing. “His father isn’t in the picture, but he lives with his current step-father, Paul, and his younger half-sister. Sally was previously married to a Gabe Ugliano that was definitely a walking red flag, luckily he disappeared under mysterious circumstances a few years ago.”

“Does he have a criminal record?” Batman asked.

Red Robin shook his hand in a so-so motion. “Kinda? He was expelled from six schools in six years, asked not to return to a few others.”

Signal let out a low whistle, “Damn, that’s impressive.”

Nightwing side-eyed him.

Red Robin tapped his foot impatiently. “He has had a few run-ins with the law, including stealing a police car last summer, but no arrests.”

“Hell yeah,” Red Hood nodded in appreciation, “Fuck the police.”

“Hey, I’m-” Nightwing cut himself off, “Actually, nevermind, that’s fair.”

“Would you just let me finish speaking?” Red Robin snapped, slamming the papers onto the desk.

The rest of the vigilantes finally stopped whispering to each other and paid attention.

“ As I was saying , the biggest incident was that he was kidnapped when he was twelve and taken on a forced cross country road trip. It concluded with a gunfight in Santa Monica, and holy crap , he actually shot the other guy and escaped,” Tim exclaimed as he read.

“Oh yeah, I’ve definitely got to meet this guy,” Spoiler said in awe.

“Then, he disappeared again two Decembers ago. He was seen throughout the states, but primarily in California and Alaska. He also apparently made appearances in Italy and Greece, before finally returning to New York last summer.”

“He mentioned this disappearance earlier, though he acted like it was not a major issue” Robin muttered.

Red Robin began pacing as he continued reading aloud. “He’s been accused of various acts of vandalism, theft, property damage, assault, and even domestic terrorism, but the charges have all been dropped.”

“Wait a minute,” Nightwing said, sitting up suddenly, “I knew I recognized his name, this was the guy who was accused of blowing up the St. Louis Arch.”

“Damn, RR,” Spoiler laughed, “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

Red Robin groaned in exasperation and tossed a paperclip at her head.

“This is certainly,” Batman searched for the right words, “ Concerning , but Alfred seems to trust him.”

“We don’t know why though,” Nightwing argued, “Percy could be manipulating him or using mind control or something.”

“Really, Wing?” Red Hood asked, oozing sarcasm.

“It’s not entirely implausible,” Signal said.

Red Hood’s reply trailed off as the vigilantes turned to watch the elevator open, revealing the familiar face of their butler. Alfred kept his composure perfectly neutral, but anger flashed in his eyes. Looking at the man confidently marching towards a table of superheroes, Percy was reminded that, despite his greying looks, he was a legacy of the god of war.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” Alfred said. His posture was stiff, shoulders back, chin straight, every part the soldier he was conditioned to be.

“Oh, uh-” Nightwing began, ever playing the part of the mediator.

“Pennyworth,” Robin scowled. He chose to take a more direct approach. “Are you aware of Jackson’s lengthy criminal record?”

“Of course,” Alfred said. He tilted his head slightly, as if it should be obvious he knew about the teenage terrorist and still gladly welcomed him into the manor.

Batman stood, in what might have been a very intimidating way, but Percy knew Alfred had served the legion, and the Roman army was far more daunting than a billionaire in over-engineered bat cosplay.

“Why?” Batman demanded. 

He was proving to be a man of few words.

“Well, Master Bruce, if you mean to ask why I requested the young man stay at the manor, the answer is quite simple.” Alfred said. He paused to ensure he had their full attention. “I trust him, and so should all of you.” Without waiting for a response, Alfred turned on his heel and let the elevator take him back to wherever it went.

The cave was silent as the Bats processed Alfred’s statement. Percy knew that logically, they had no reason to trust him, in fact, they had several reasons not to. If Percy had been in their shoes, he probably would have already kicked himself out. But, it was hard to argue with a man like Alfred Pennyworth.

Even if the Bats didn’t know about his godly ancestors, Percy could tell they were hesitant to anger him. Alfred’s calculating stare, taught to him by Lupa, the way he carried himself from his time in the British intelligence agencies, even his posh accent made him an imposing figure.

Eventually, Robin broke the silence. “Father, surely you will not allow this malefactor to remain in our home?”

“And go against Alfred?” Red Hood asked, looking genuinely worried.

“Also, we can’t get rid of him before I get to meet him,” Spoiler chimed in. “It would be totally unfair.”

As the group continued their argument, their voices began to take on an unsteady lilt. Percy could still make out what they were saying, but the cadence was off, and their words were muffled, like he was listening to them through glass.

All at once, they cut out completely, and a grating laughter overtook the scene. The cave melted away and was replaced by a dirty grey warehouse. On a folding chair in the center sat a gangly man with pale white skin and limp green hair. His purple suit was too short on his wrists and ankles, yet baggy around him.

“Oh, little demigod,” the Joker laughed maniacally, waggling his finger when he saw Percy appear. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

Percy grimaced, the Joker’s voice seemed to be amplified directly into his skull, the sharp tone scratching against his ears from the inside. “What do you want?” he said through clenched teeth.

“Don’t worry, Seaweed Brain , I’m not ready for you, yet .”

The Joker’s cackles filled the room as Percy lunged towards him, Riptide raised.

Chapter Text

Percy sat up with a start. His chest was heaving with the force of his panicked breathing and the sheets clung to his bare skin with freezing sweat. He hadn’t had such a vivid demigod dream in a while, well, except for nightmares, but those were easier to shake off than prophetic visions.

Now that he was actually awake and his brain was mostly working properly, a million thoughts raced through his head.

The Waynes were the Bats.

The Joker knew he was in Gotham.

The Joker called him Seaweed Brain.

The Joker called him Seaweed Brain .

Percy threw his covers off and leapt out of bed. He frantically searched his bedroom for a drachma, cursing his disorganized packing.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit ,” he muttered as he emptied his duffel bag to rifle through its contents.

It was taking too long, he needed to contact Annabeth right away, she was the only one who called him Seaweed Brain, yet somehow the Joker knew the nickname.

Giving up, he abandoned his search and ran out of his room, straight into a wall of leather.

“Woah,” Jason said, pushing Percy back from his chest to hold his shoulders, “You good?”

Percy twisted out of his grip and didn’t bother with answering, his only goal was to make sure Annabeth was safe. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Kitchen, we were just having some tea.”

Without thanking him, Percy sprinted down towards the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. He slid across the checkerboard tile into the room with his heartbeat racing.

Alfred and Tim were sitting at the table, sipping quietly from mismatched mugs. When Percy ran in, hair disheveled, shirtless, and absolutely terrified, Alfred sprung to his feet, immediately prepared to help however he could. Tim also jumped to his feet, knocking his chair back with a screech, his gaze twitching to Percy’s bare abs and messy hair.

“Percy, what is it?” Alfred asked, slowly reaching up to touch his arm in comfort.

“I need to IM Annabeth, but I-” he cut himself off, glancing at Tim, “I can’t find what I need.”

“I see,” Alfred relaxed only slightly. “Here,” he said as he pushed a drachma into Percy’s hand.

“Thank you,” Percy said and sprinted back to his room.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy snatched the crystal prism from the desk in his bedroom and set it on top of the flashlight on his phone. A brilliant rainbow sprouted from the light, dimly illuminating the room. Struggling to keep his anxiety at bay, he threw the drachma Alfred had given him into the kaleidoscopic display and mumbled the prayer to Iris.

He sighed in relief as the rainbow shifted to reveal Annabeth sound asleep in her bunk at camp. Percy debated hanging up, he didn’t want to disturb, what seemed to be, a night free from nightmares. Both of them had been plagued by bad dreams since the Battle of Manhattan, and the Pit had only added to their sleep troubles.

For a moment, he was content to watch her, it was rare to see Annabeth so peaceful, even in her sleep. Whether tossing as she slept or sketching out her latest design or fidgeting with a dagger or bouncing her knee, she was in constant motion.

The pale moonlight streaming through the window shone onto her peaceful face and Percy felt a pang of longing in his gut. They hadn’t spoken since their fight, which proved to be the longest period they hadn’t talked in a long time.

Even though they had broken up several months ago, they were friends first and would be friends after. They would never fully recover from things they had seen and done and been forced to do. But they had been together for a lot of it, and that created a bond closer than friendship. They were family, partners, soldiers on the same battlefield, and the end of a brief romantic relationship couldn’t change that.

Percy cleared his throat, trying to gently wake her up. “Annabeth?”

She startled awake. In an instant, Annabeth was on her feet, looking around for the source of the noise, eyes narrowed like an owl searching for a mouse in the underbrush. Relief flooded her features as her focus locked onto the Iris Message.

“Percy?” Unease snuck onto the corners of her mouth.

Percy winced. He knew that Annabeth knew he would only call if something was wrong and he hated worrying her.

“Are you okay?”

Annabeth gingerly stepped out of her cabin so as to not disturb her siblings any further. A light breeze played with her hair as she wandered towards the strawberry fields.

“I’m okay, why?” She asked.

Percy told her about his dream, except what Spoiler had teased Red Robin about. He wasn’t entirely sure how Annabeth would react to hearing he was ready to move on. Actually, Percy wasn’t sure how he himself would react either, he hadn’t really considered it until this point.

Annabeth stayed still for a brief moment, thinking it over.

“The Joker is a son of Apollo, right,” She said, tucking a strand of blond curl behind her ear.

Percy got the feeling he wasn’t expected to answer.

“Most of Apollo’s kids inherit archery, musical, or medical skills, but on rare occasions, some have been known to receive prophetic powers. Add your tendency for graphic lucid dreams...”

Percy’s heart sank as he recognized the tone she used when placing the final pieces of a puzzle together. He crossed his fingers and hoped Annabeth wasn’t saying what he thought she was.

Annabeth let her eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, before snapping them open and fixing her steely silver gaze on Percy. Even separated by hundreds of miles, Percy could feel the weight of her next words.

“The Joker is watching you through your dreams.”

Chapter Text

Percy wrapped up the call pretty quickly after Annabeth shared her hypothesis, he needed time away from his problems, he needed a distraction. After they discussed his next steps and Annabeth shared her carefully formulated plan, Percy was itching to get out of his room.

“Okay, thanks for the help,” he said and after a brief pause, added, “Wise Girl.” He hoped the reminder of how far they had come together would be enough of a peace offering.

“Athena always has a plan, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth responded with his nickname in turn, a clear enough acceptance of his olive branch.

The nickname felt comfortable, even after months of disuse, and Percy smiled before swiping his hand through the prism, ending the call.

He flopped back onto the bed, sprawling his limbs over the plush comforter and longing for something to take his mind off of the Joker. After only a few seconds of stillness, Percy couldn’t stand being stationary any longer. Demigods were hardwired for battle and in stressful situations, he felt his body burn with the desire for movement.

He began pacing the room, trying to center himself enough to focus on working out his nerves, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to Tim in the kitchen. He wondered if Tim was still there, propped up at the table in his green sweatshirt.

Percy knew that he shouldn’t be letting himself get close to the Waynes. Not only would he be leaving Gotham as soon as his mission was complete, but getting friendly with Batman and his groupies was a sure-fire way to make his mission much harder.

Still, he didn’t really see the harm in just being nice, they were letting him stay in their home. He assured himself it wasn’t like he was trying to become besties with Tim or anything, he was simply being a good guest. Besides, he told himself, it was unlikely that Tim was even in the kitchen anymore. A minute of further consideration was all it took for Percy to find himself throwing on a t-shirt and making his way down the winding staircase.

—————————————————————————————————————

Percy padded over the stone tiles into the kitchen. He spotted Tim sitting at the table, twirling a pen across his knuckles and staring at the crossword in front of him with a terrifying intensity, as if he was staring down an opponent in battle.

“Can’t sleep either?” Percy asked, sliding into the seat across from him. He decidedly did not look at the puzzle, the tiny checkered squares made it impossible to read with his dyslexia.

Tim mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, refusing to look up from the paper.

Percy sighed and lounged back in the chair, wishing he had something to take his mind off the events of the night. He perked up, his mind no longer roaming through random thoughts, finally focused on one specific detail from his dream. 

If Percy had been anyone else, he could have blamed his involuntary visit to the Batcave on an overactive imagination, unfortunately, because Percy was Percy, it had undoubtedly been a demigod dream.

Compared to other half-bloods, even the more powerful ones, Percy was cursed with a disturbing number of visions when he slept. Sometimes he was blessed with a cryptic metaphor, like a horse and eagle fighting on a beach. Other times, he saw events exactly as they happened, like Nico summoning the ghost of his mother. Either way, they were exhausting, and Percy always woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

However, by some stroke of luck, Percy had actually collected helpful information this time. For example, the identities of Gotham’s most popular vigilantes. Of course, he also picked up some other helpful tips.

“So, Tim,” Percy said, casually leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table.

With a great deal of effort and an exaggerated sigh, Tim turned his attention to Percy. His slate eyes were bloodshot, whether from a lack of sleep or staring for too long at the same thing, Percy couldn’t tell.

Percy ignored Tim’s dramatic display. “What’s there to do around here?”

“Bowling, arcade, swimming, library, theater, but you’ve already been there-” Tim started, listing the locations off on his fingers.

Been there before? Percy felt his jaw go slack in awe. “Wait, those are all rooms in the Manor ?”

Tim just shrugged. “Bruce has more money than he knows what to do with,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Percy shook his head, rich people. “That’s actually insane, but anyway, I meant things to do in the city?” After the call he had just had, he didn’t feel like being cooped up in the Manor. 

He’d never spent any significant amount of time in the suburbs. Growing up in an apartment in the Upper East Side, he always had the sounds of the city outside his window. Camp had a different kind of noise, even at night, he could hear the distant echo of metal on metal or the ocean lapping on the beach.

The suburbs were too quiet for his taste. The Manor was too quiet. If he had to spend one more minute trapped between the creepy, ancient wallpaper, he might scream, if only to deafen the silence.

“There’s a pretty cool skatepark,” Tim offered.

Percy hadn’t pegged Tim as a skater. He had thought Tim would prefer spending time indoors, probably buried in a textbook or deep in computer code. However, Percy also hadn’t pegged Tim as a vigilante, and well, he knew how that turned out. 

Springing to his feet, Percy felt the stress melt away from his body at the prospect of leaving the Manor. “Awesome, let’s go.”

Tim stared at him like he had done something absolutely crazy, but Percy was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, at least, not yet.

“Right now? It’s the middle of the night,” Tim exclaimed.

“So?” Percy was failing to see the problem.

“Gotham City has the highest crime rate in America, walking around in the dark is basically asking to be murdered or mugged or kidnapped-” Tim rattled off all the potential dangers.

Percy cut him off. “Eh, been there, done that.”

He knew how that sounded, but the way Tim’s eyebrows had twisted with a mixture of worry and confusion was, frankly, very cute.

“You’ve been kidnapped?”

“When I was twelve, but I get the feeling you knew that already, didn’t you?” Percy crossed his arms across his chest and shifted his weight to one hip.

Tim turned the faintest bit red. “I think Alfred mentioned it.”

Percy raised an eyebrow, reminded of a story Alfred had told him on one of his visits. “And? I remember him mentioning your own kidnapping.”

“Well yeah, but that’s different. I was rescued before they even sent the ransom demand.” Tim spluttered.

“You got a ransom? That’s so cool, I wish I got one.”

“Percy, that’s not something to be jealous of,” Tim said. The worried expression had returned to his features and Percy tried not to grin.

He redirected the conversation ever so slightly. “I’ll be fine, besides, Gotham has the bats,” he smirked, “And, I don’t know about you, but there’s a couple I wouldn’t mind being rescued by.”

It was Tim’s turn to try to hide his grin. “Like who?”

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him of his promise not to get too close with the Waynes, but he dismissed it, teasing Tim was too much fun.

“Red Robin’s pretty cute.” Percy went in for the kill and relished the blush sweeping across Tim’s cheeks. “He’s gotta switch up the name though, twinning with a burger restaurant really isn’t a good look. Also, what’s with all the capes, they’ve gotta be a weakness in a fight.”

“Personally, I like his name and what would you know about weaknesses during a fight?” Tim was doing a poor job of hiding his offence.

“I know my way around a fight pretty well,” Percy said, shrugging.

Tim broke eye contact, eyes briefly darting to Percy’s bare arms. “I know you’re all muscly and stuff, but there’s no way you could beat a Gotham rogue in a fist-fight.”

“So I bring my swo-knife,” Percy caught himself.

“You were totally going to say sword weren’t you. Go figure,” Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s too late for this, I’m going to bed.” Percy noted the hint of fondness in his voice, despite his expressionless face.

Percy beamed, mission accomplished. “Skatepark tomorrow?”

Tim muttered in agreement and shook his head in what was supposed to be exasperation as he picked up his crossword and left the room.

Percy watched him leave. Maybe befriending one Wayne wouldn’t be so bad, in fact, having an in with Batman might be helpful, if he needed it. He nodded, satisfied. A resource, that’s all that Tim was, he told himself, but he was unable to wipe the dopey grin off his face.

—————————————————————————————————————

“Good morning, Percy,” Alfred said, setting a platter of waffles on the table.

Percy stared down at the food, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Blue?” Tim said with thinly veiled suspicion. He slid into the chair beside him and piled his plate high with eggs and waffles and bacon.

“My mom and I like blue food.”

It was only a half-truth and Percy knew that Tim recognized it as such. What he didn’t want to say was that his mom had been making and buying blue food for years, originally as her own way to fight back against Gabe. When people learned Percy was a son of Poseidon, they automatically assumed he inherited his tendency for defiance from the sea, but anyone who knew Sally Jackson knew that she had always had a rebellious streak.

Remembering his manners, Percy thanked Alfred and Tim followed suit.

“What happened last night?” Tim asked, his blue-grey eyes searched Percy’s face with startling intensity.

Percy ran a hand through his hair, pushing the shaggy curls away from his forehead. He wanted to tell Tim the truth, but that would require telling him he had a prophetic dream about the Joker, and he couldn’t exactly do that. Tim would surely think he was crazy and promptly ship him off to Arkham Asylum.

“It’s complicated,” he said at last, “I got a weird message about my friend and I thought she was in a dangerous situation.”

Calling the Joker talking to him in a dream ‘weird’ was like calling a poisoned stab wound a paper cut. But, again, explaining that he had dreamed of a supervillain calling him a special nickname would likely not go over well.

Surprisingly, Tim nodded in understanding instead of pressing him with questions. Percy cocked his head, signaling that he was listening, if Tim wanted to talk.

“I lost a good friend a while ago and I kind of lost myself for a while.” Tim’s words were carefully chosen, like he was also only giving Percy half-truths.

Percy wanted to pry, wanted to dig for answers until he uncovered everything Tim had left unsaid, and maybe, if Tim was just Tim, he would have, but, knowing that Tim was Red Robin changed things, which gave Percy a feeling that whatever had happened was a part of Red Robin’s life, not Tim’s. So instead, he pulled a waffle onto his plate and drenched it in syrup.

It stayed quiet until the rest of the Wayne kids made their way to the dining room. As they entered and noticed the blue food, Percy caught more than one confused look. Tim must have glared at them behind his back, because they, much to his relief, didn’t comment on it. Percy could tell, though, that Damian struggled to resist the urge to remark on what he clearly thought was ridiculous.

A few minutes after they had settled in and Jason was shoveling the breakfast into his mouth with a speed that rivaled his own, Percy felt the distinct presence of a new person enter the room. A middle aged man took the seat at the head of the table, the press of his crisp button up shirt enforcing his carefully fabricated demeanor. Bruce Wayne looked every part the billionaire businessman the media portrayed him as.

“Good morning,” Percy said, resting his fork against the table. He was cautious, there was no telling how an undercover vigilante would react to a person like Percy in his home, eating at his table, with his children. 

Percy hadn’t been afraid of mortals in a long time, long enough to forget sometimes that his first real monster had been mortal. Not that Bruce Wayne was anything like Gabe Ugliano, but there was a reason Percy had developed a distaste for authority figures long before he met the gods.

Bruce Wayne smiled the roguish grin the paparazzi adored, but his eyes glinted with something more sinister. “You must be Percy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voice wasn’t as gravely or deep as Batman’s and Percy wondered which was real.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, any friend of Alfred’s is a friend of ours.”

Percy bit back a smile. Bruce Wayne had no idea about the kind of friends Alfred had. Obviously, he expected his dear, elderly butler to have kindly British acquaintances or old war buddies, but there was absolutely no way he could ever imagine war buddies from the Roman army.

As he ate, Percy chose to ignore the calculating stare on him from the head of the table, and otherwise the rest of breakfast went relatively smoothly. Dick and Jason fought over the last piece of bacon and Damian threatened to stab Duke if he didn’t pass the butter faster, but Percy got the feeling that that was the way most meals usually went in their house. 

At some point, Jason wandered off, followed soon after by Duke and then Damian. A little while later, Dick stole a slice of toast from his brother’s plate and rushed out, mumbling something about errands, and Bruce downed the last swigs of his coffee.

“I won’t bother you now, but I hope we can talk later,” Bruce said.

Percy roughly translated his statement to mean that Bruce wanted to interrogate him in private.

“Sure.” Percy kept his response short and sweet, he found the less words he used the less likely it was he’d say something he would later regret.

“Alright then. I’m off to work,” Bruce said. He offered a tight lipped smile and smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from his shirt as he left.

And then it was just Tim and Percy again. If he was being entirely truthful, Percy had been lingering long past the final bites of his food in the hopes to talk to Tim alone. He quietly worked up the nerve to say something, anything, and almost lost the chance as Tim started to stand up.

“Wait,” Percy said, pushing away the desire to grab Tim’s wrist and pull him closer. “Did you still want to go to the skate park? Like we don’t have to but it could be fun I guess, but no pressure or whatev-”

Thankfully, Tim cut off his nervous rambling and put him out of his misery.

“Of course I want to, why wouldn’t I?”

Percy beamed. Today was going to be a good day.

Chapter Text

Alfred dropped Percy and Tim off at a skatepark near the edge of the city. It was fairly quiet with only a few other people present. Stray graffiti covered the concrete and the grass nearby was overgrown, but the park was far enough from the bad parts of town that Percy felt relatively safe, even without carrying a weapon.

Of course, he still had Riptide and Asterías waiting in his pocket, he wasn’t crazy. Growing up in New York had taught him enough street smarts to navigate the rougher neighborhoods of most cities, but Gotham was on an entirely different level.

They found a secluded bench off to the side and sat, watching people practice- and fail- tricks. Percy tightened the laces on his scuffed Converse and strapped on his knee guards and helmet. Being a demigod was dangerous enough, no reason to risk a concussion from something as mundane as skateboarding.

Just as they stood up, Percy’s phone rang for the first time. He scrambled to pull it from his pocket, grateful he had remembered to bring it with him. He managed to figure out how to answer the call and held it against his ear, telling Tim to go ahead.

“Hello?”

“Nico?” Percy hadn’t even known Nico knew how to use a modern phone, let alone had access to one.

“I don’t have long, I’ll attract too much attention, but we need to talk.” Nico’s voice was slightly muffled over the phone, but Percy thought he might be out of breath. “Will and I are on our way to Gotham. Can we meet up this afternoon?”

Percy was surprised. Nico and Will hadn’t been out in the mortal world much since everything that had happened, and Gotham wasn’t exactly the ideal vacation spot. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“What do you know about the Red Hood?” Nico asked.

He racked his brain for everything he knew. Rachel had given him a quick lesson on Gotham’s superheroes and villains, and he had that dream last night, but he didn’t know much. 

“Red Hood runs Crime Alley, but also sometimes works with Batman,” he began recapping what he did know, but Nico cut him off when he mentioned his dream.

“Demigod dream? That’s a bad sign,” Nico said urgently.

Percy agreed and described everything he had seen and heard as thoroughly as he could.

Nico cut him off again. “I don’t need every detail, and I don’t need to know Red Robin thinks you’re hot. Just tell me the important things.”

Percy blushed. Sometimes his ADHD was a blessing and sometimes it was a curse. In this case, he had started rambling a bit and shared some details he hadn’t meant to. He quickly finished retelling the summary of his dream and waited for an answer.

Instead, he heard a deafening crash and Nico cursing violently in Italian.

“Everything alright?” Percy asked, wishing he could see what was happening like in an Iris Message.

After a long moment and several loud sounds, Nico spoke again, panting between words. “Stymphalian birds,” he wheezed and added a meeting time and place before the line went dead.

Percy sighed, hoping they would be okay, and lowered the phone away from his ear. Realistically, he knew Nico and Will could handle a few evil pigeons, no problem, but he still worried. Ever since they had come back from the Pit, Percy and Nico had grown closer, two of only a few demigods capable of understanding what they had gone through down there. Nico was family, the little (human) brother he had never had, and Percy couldn’t live with himself if something happened to him.

He stayed on the bench for a moment, struggling to shake off his phone call. Smiling, he spied Tim drop into the halfpipe with a grace he had never seen before. Every move was precise and executed with practiced perfection. Tim’s muscles flexed and rippled under his shirt as he twisted through a complicated series of tricks before he jumped off and carried his board back to where Percy sat.

“Are you alright?” Tim asked, joining him on the bench.

Percy could feel the heat radiating off Tim’s body and tensed as their knees brushed together. “I’m fine,” he said too fast. “This is random, but I’m headed to a cafe later to catch up with some friends from summer camp. Would you want to come with?” It was not, in fact, random. Percy needed to distract himself from how close they were, and talking was always a good way to distract himself.

“Sure, sounds good,” Tim smiled and stood up. “Now come on, it’s my turn to watch.” He grabbed Percy’s hand and dragged him to the concrete.

They spent the next hour skating and teaching each other tricks. Percy was not ashamed to admit he was showing off. Tim was good, he naturally knew how to contort his body to keep his balance, but Percy was unafraid and threw himself at each new challenge.

By the time Alfred arrived to drive them back to the Manor, they were soaked in sweat and sore, but grinning. For the first time in a while, Percy wasn’t thinking about where the closest escape route was or what was to his back, he was just having fun.

—————————————————————————————————————

A bell tinkled softly as they pushed open the door to the cafe. The space was warm and inviting with mismatched tables and chairs crammed into the small space and vibrant art lining the walls. Standing near the counter were Nico and Will, slightly turned to keep an eye on the door while staring up at a chalkboard. The golden-haired boy whispered into the other’s ear and his shoulders shook lightly with laughter. They looked good, healthy, Percy thought, gods know they deserved all the peace and rest they could get.

Will heard the door and turned the rest of the way towards Percy and Tim, a bright smile plastered across his face. He waved them over and elbowed Nico to force his attention away from the chalkboard menu. “Percy!” he called.

“Guys! How’s it going? Been busy lately?” Percy said as he walked over to join them, Tim following. He tried to keep his language neutral, he didn’t want Tim hearing anything he shouldn’t.

Nico nodded in understanding. “Not at all, it’s been pretty quiet.”

Percy felt a wave of relief crash against him, there hadn’t been any major monster attacks or other weirdness, his friends were safe.

Will, however, frowned and crossed his arms in annoyance. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to run the infirmary by yourself.”

And just like that, his nerves returned to form a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. Nico had said it wasn’t busy, but Will seemed more tired from the infirmary than usual.

Nico shoved Will and gave him a look before facing Percy again. “Sorry about him, Chiron let us start chariot racing again, and it’s been…messy.”

Before Percy could fully react, Tim spoke. “I’m sorry, did you say chariot -”

Oops. Chariot racing definitely wasn’t a usual summer camp activity. Percy could practically hear the gears turning in Tim’s brain and quickly moved past Nico’s remark. “This is Tim, I’m crashing at his place while I’m in town.”

“I’m Nico, and this is my boyfriend, Will,” Nico said and Will waved in sync.

Tim waved back. “Nice to meet you.”

After they ordered and paid, Percy asked Will and Tim to find a table while they waited. It gave him a chance to talk to Nico alone.

Nico watched them walk to a corner table. “So, you and Tim?”

“What? No,” Percy nearly shouted in surprise, earning a few curious looks from the rest of the cafe.

“Are you sure?” Nico said.

Percy blushed, he hadn’t thought his feelings were that obvious. “I mean, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it but, I don’t think he likes me like that,” he said.

Nico rolled his eyes so hard Percy wondered if they ever got stuck. “You are the most oblivious person I know. Didn’t you tell me he called you hot?” he said slowly, like he couldn’t believe Percy wasn’t on the same page.

He had a point though. When Percy had seen Red Robin, Tim, in his dream last night, Tim had called him hot. On the other hand, Tim hadn’t known he was there, so it didn’t really count in his mind.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he has feelings for me, besides I won’t be in Gotham that long,” Percy said, shrugging.

The barista called out their order and Percy was glad to have a distraction, Nico had started to stare at him like Annabeth in the middle of a capture the flag strategy session. Percy grabbed his blueberry smoothie and Tim’s iced chai, while Nico carried a very purple drink and Will’s latte.

“New York isn’t that far,” Nico muttered as they approached the table.

“Not all of us can shadow travel,” Percy replied equally softly, so Tim wouldn’t hear.

They had chosen a booth in the corner facing the door, Tim sitting with his back to the wall and Will facing him. Percy slid into the seat next to Tim, who thanked him as he handed him his cup. Across the table, Will stole a sip of Nico’s drink and grimaced.

“What even is that?” Will groaned and gulped his coffee.

“Blackberry Red Bull Italian soda,” Nico said, pulling a small silver flask from a pocket in the lining of his leather jacket. He poured out a stream of golden liquid into his glass and stirred it with his straw.

Tim noticed and furrowed his brow, clearly conflicted about whether or not to speak up. Percy, on the other hand, just looked on with fascination, he hadn’t ever considered mixing nectar with other stuff. His mind began to drift as he wondered if his mom could mix ambrosia and nectar into her recipes. Would it taste like chocolate chip cookies or would the other ingredients hide the taste?

Will’s long sigh kept him from zoning out. “Nico, that looked so suspicious.”

“Whatever,” Nico took a long sip of his violet drink. “It’s not like I’m not old enough,” he added.

Percy had to give him that, technically Nico was well into his nineties.

“Nico is from Italy, where the legal drinking age is lower,” Will clarified for Tim’s sake. “Also, it’s not alcohol in his flask, just homemade lemon syrup.”

Percy tried not to laugh as Nico sighed. Will’s fake explanation might have been more embarrassing than if Nico had been drinking in the middle of a cafe.

“So, how was the drive,” Tim said.

Percy looked at him and smiled. Tim was obviously trying very hard to get the others to like him, which Percy found very cute. His friends were important to him, and he wanted them to like his new friend as much as he did.

He shook those thoughts away and focused his attention on the other side of the table. He found Nico staring at him with a smirk and he could practically hear the ‘I told you so’.

“It was good, Jules-Albert cut the drive down by almost an hour,” Nico said.

Will once again clarified for Tim. “Jules-Albert is Nico’s driver, and Nico’s dad insisted he take us.”

Percy hardly believed that Hades cared how Nico got around, but he maturely refrained from scoffing. Besides, it wasn’t as if his relationship with his dad was any better. In fact, Hades was probably the most involved parent of any of the gods, though Hermes and Apollo had started becoming more present recently. Still, Poseidon hadn’t gifted Percy any dead racecar drivers to chauffeur him around, so Percy wasn’t exactly in a position to complain about Hades.

Instead, Percy decided on messing with Nico, which was always fun, for him at least, Nico tended to scowl at him. “Oh right, I always forget you’re a nepo baby,” Percy said innocently.

“You are too?” Will said, unfortunately not hopping on the Tease Nico Train. 

At this, Tim whirled around to look at Percy in surprise. “Really?”

Immediately regretting all his choices, Percy took a sip of his smoothie to stall. “Well, I guess some people might say my dad is a big name in the maritime industry,” he said carefully.

He was getting a lot of good practice in only giving away part of the truth while still giving enough information to stave off suspicion.

“Oh, cool,” Tim said, but his eyes narrowed slightly, not completely buying the half-truth.

In a not-so-smooth move, Percy promptly faced away and changed the subject. “So, what brings you two to town?” he asked the others.

“Can’t I just want to visit my cousin?” Nico asked.

“We both know you can’t.”

Tim looked between them and frowned ever so slightly. “I thought you knew each other through summer camp,” he said.

“We do, unfortunately, we just also happen to be related,” Percy said, he had totally forgotten that he had told Tim that they went to the same summercamp.

Nico’s face twisted in his signature scowl. “Wow, I feel so loved right now,” he said, drawing out the words to exaggerate his sarcasm.

“Whatever, Zombie Boy,” Percy teased.

The conversation continued flowing from topic to topic, but Percy knew Nico hadn’t told him the whole story. He just needed a time when Tim was distracted to bring it back up. Eventually, Will made an obscure Star Wars reference that only Tim knew and those two began spouting nonsense that Percy and Nico couldn’t follow. This also gave him the perfect opportunity to talk to Nico privately.

“Dude, actually, why are you here?” he asked, lowering his voice and speaking in Latin, in case Tim or Will were listening.

Nico leaned in slightly and responded. “The ghosts have been talking about something strange in Gotham.”

From experience, he knew that Nico’s use of the word could mean anything from a skeleton missing from a grave to evil spirits taking over the city.

Percy frowned. “Strange?” 

Nico nodded. “Rumors of a mortal who died and came back.”

“That’s not good.”

“No shit, Kelphead, mortals aren’t supposed to be able to do that,” Nico said, “Anyway, I came to investigate and Will came with. We’re going to the graveyard where the man was supposedly buried tonight, if you want to come.”

Percy shrugged and agreed. Most people wouldn’t consider a nighttime visit to a cemetery lowkey, but Percy wasn’t most people. Visiting a mortal’s grave didn’t even make the chart of the scariest or riskiest thing Percy had done, so it seemed like a welcome change.

At that moment, Tim broke off mid-conversation of the pros and cons of watching the movies by release order and scrunched his nose in confusion.

“Are you speaking Latin?” Tim sounded very confused.

If Tim knew Latin, that meant Percy and Nico had just revealed information a mortal had no right to know. Percy internally cursed the Fates, his life was too complicated for them not to be doing it on purpose.

“Do you know it?” Nico asked, fidgeting with his straw in worry.

Tim shook his head, much to Percy’s relief. “I just recognized it. Where’d you learn?”

“Camp,” Percy blurted, mouth working faster than his brain. 

If he had taken a minute to think about it, he would have realized learning Latin is less of a fun summer camp activity and more of a creepy cult practice. Combined with his record of accused terrorism, it didn’t paint a promising picture. Oh well, he thought, what’s said is said.

Tim furrowed his eyebrows, but luckily didn’t push the topic.

A little while later, they had finished their drinks and cleared their glasses. They said their goodbyes and Percy pulled Nico into a hug, and despite his muttered threats, Nico hugged him back.

“Don’t forget,” Nico murmured in Ancient Greek, just loud enough for him to hear, “Gotham Cemetery, ten o’clock.”

Chapter Text

Percy dove into the pool and sank into the cool water until he lay with his back pressed against the tiled bottom. He let his breath escape in a stream of bubbles, the space in his lungs quickly replaced by the slight sting of chlorine.

Dinner had ended a little while ago, and Percy had found himself searching for a place to be alone afterwards. Alfred had pointed him in the direction of the massive indoor pool. Not for the first time, Percy was left stricken at the things money like Bruce Wayne’s could buy.

Sitting amidst the chaos of a family dinner with the Waynes reminded Percy achingly of Camp, the jostling for the last roll and laughing over stupid jokes left him longing for home. He missed his friends, he missed his mom and his sister and Paul, he missed the smell of the strawberry fields and racing up the rock wall and practicing with Riptide and tending to the pegasi.

Life had just started to feel normal again after the Second Titanomachy when Hera kidnapped him. He had lost too many friends in the span of a year. Then, the Triumvirate started their reign of terror, and he had lost too many more.

Sometimes he wished that he had helped Apollo instead of finishing school. It was selfish of him, he later understood. There was so much good he could have done, people he could have saved, damage that he could have prevented. If he hadn’t put himself above his friends, Jason wouldn’t have been on that ship. If he had just done what he was supposed to, what he was born to do, Jason would still be alive.

Leo would still have his best friend. Piper wouldn’t have had to watch the tip of Caligula’s spear pierce into his back. Camp wouldn’t mourn the loss of the son of Jupiter.

It should have been him on that ship with Apollo. Jason was everything Percy wasn’t: strong and levelheaded, born to lead, destined to defeat what Percy couldn’t. Both camps needed him more than they needed Percy.

His very name meant healer. He had mended the rift between the Greeks and Romans, and it was his plan that had led to the erection of new temples to honor the minor gods.

Perseus meant destroyer, and Percy couldn’t help but think it was true.

He stayed lying there on the smooth tile, listing the names of the fallen over and over, tracing the too few memories he held of them. Beckendorf in the forge with Silena watching him, Castor racing through the fields, Michael teaching his siblings in the archery arena, Jason studying his blueprints.

Eventually, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door swinging open.

He wanted nothing more than to shut his eyes and pretend he was anywhere else, the lake at camp or floating in the sea, perhaps, but whoever had walked in was bound to notice a motionless figure at the bottom of the pool. So, he tucked his knees under himself and pressed off the tile, shooting to the surface.

He surfaced and shook the water from his hair, hoisting himself up to sit on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water.

“I didn’t realize you were in here.” Percy was surprised to hear Damian’s voice echo across the water.

He plastered on as real a smile as he could manage and got up to face his problem head-on. “Felt like going for a swim.”

Damian narrowed his eyes and scoffed, but thankfully didn’t say anything.

Percy could tell he didn’t trust him, and he respected it. Damian reminded him of a younger Nico, thirsty for vengeance in whatever form he could take. He wanted to tell him that it would be alright, that whatever grudges he held onto so tightly were only weighing him down, but, like Nico, Damian obviously had family that cared for him, and Percy hoped that, in time, they could help him to let go of his past a bit.

Percy looked away first, but not without noticing the faint scars stark against Damian’s brown skin. He couldn’t bear the thought of another child sent to fight in someone else’s battles. He hated whoever had given him those scars, and he hated whoever had stood by and watched.

He felt the urge to take Damian by the shoulders and scream at him that he didn’t have to be the hero.

Instead, he turned away and fell back into the pool.

—————————————————————————————————————

Later that night, Percy slid open his window without a sound. He was on the second floor, too high to jump down, so he shimmied down a precariously secured water spout. Dropping the final feet, Percy landed in a crouch on the grass, really hoping they hadn’t booby-trapped the lawn.

For once, the gods seemed to be on his side, because he made it outside the iron gates with no problem.

The cemetery wasn’t far from Wayne Manor, so Percy made his way through the dark streets at a steady pace. Even in the wealthy suburbs of Gotham, the air was tense, as if the city were holding its breath, waiting for a fight.

The graveyard was eerily lit by a few streetlights positioned too far apart to provide any real visibility through the fog that hung in the air. Like most old cities, the grave markers spanned from elaborate statues of mourning angels to simple plaques set into the overgrown grass.

He didn’t know which grave he was looking for, Nico hadn’t given him a name, so he wandered around a bit before spotting two figures in the distance.

The gravestone they gathered around was breathtaking. Shiny bronze letters ingrained in ebony granite, gleaming darker than the night sky. Someone had clearly spent a small fortune on the grave, but the plot was overgrown with weeds, and a clump of crushed flowers lay withered on the base.

Nico greeted him with a silent nod, and Will waved.

“Hi,” Percy said, voice sounding too loud in the silence of the cemetery.

Nico passed him a shovel, and Percy grimaced.

“Why do I have to dig the hole? Can’t you use some rock wizardry?” Percy complained, though he had already started removing shovelfuls of dirt from the plot.

“That’s more Hazel’s thing,” Nico responded, clearly enjoying making Percy do manual labor. After the hole was around about a foot squared and a few inches deep, Nico instructed him to stop.

Percy wiped the beads of sweat pooling on his hairline and dropped the shovel. Conjuring the dead was not his favorite pastime. By the looks of it, Will shared the sentiment; his nose was scrunched in disgust as he poured a two-liter bottle of Coke into the hole. Nico added a cheeseburger and a bag of fries to the mix and started to chant in Ancient Greek.

Like he remembered from similar rituals, Percy overheard a lot about memories and coming back from the grave. However, this time there was no gross bubbling and no spirits appeared when Nico finished.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Will asked his boyfriend, wrapping his flannel tighter around himself against the cool night air.

Nico frowned, which, in Percy’s opinion, was not a good sign after attempting necromancy with fast food. “No,” he said, starting to fill in the hole, “That means there isn’t a ghost to summon.”

Percy considered cursing Hades, but decided he didn’t want to be swallowed up by the earth, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Shit,” Nico muttered, kicking a pile of dead grass over the hole, “We have company.”

Percy whipped around, already holding Riptide, thumb poised on the cap.

Two figures were rapidly approaching them, weapons drawn. One was huge, as tall as Percy, but broader in the shoulders, and, well, everywhere else. The other was leaner and slightly shorter, but the tight black suit he wore gave away his toned muscles.

“Oh, fuck this ,” Percy said, looking for the best escape route. Unfortunately, the cemetery was enclosed in a tall iron fence, and Red Hood and Nightwing blocked the only gate.

“Friends of yours?” Nico asked, unsheathing his sword from his hip.

“Of course they are,” Will sighed when he nodded, “Percy meets the most wonderful people.”

Before Percy could defend himself with a snarky retort, the vigilantes reached them.

It was times like these that Percy wished he had had someone teach him how to use the Mist. He had always been more susceptible to magic and the Mist, so he had avoided Chiron and Hazel’s lessons at all costs, but sometimes he kicked himself for it. It would be so easy to snap his fingers and make them forget they were even here.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Red Hood’s voice was robotic, but Percy could hear the anger coursing through it.

Percy stopped thinking and let instinct take over, which turned out to be the right move about seventy percent of the time. “Evening stroll, how about you?”

Red Hood growled, taking a step forward. Only Nightwing shooting him a look kept him from moving closer.

Looks like it was a thirty percent kind of day, Percy thought.

“Look, it’s dangerous out here at night. We just want to help you. All you have to do is drop your weapons and tell us why you’re here, and we’ll let you go,” Nightwing reasoned.

Percy tried not to snort in laughter. There was no way they would let three armed teenagers in a graveyard at night go, regardless of why they were there.

Nico sighed and crossed his arms, the picture of annoyance. “Why-”

Will, in a very smart move, cut him off. “You are so right,” he said, tugging on Nico’s sleeve, “I’m sure our parents are worried, so we should be going.”

“I won’t ask again,” Red Hood said, “What’re you doing here?”

This time, Will and Percy were too slow to stop Nico. “None of your business,” he hissed.

Red Hood lunged forward, moving to knock Nico onto the ground, but the demigod was faster, twisting out of his reach and raising his sword.

Percy’s heart raced as panic rose like bile in his throat. He didn’t care who he had to fight; he wouldn’t let his cousin get hurt.

“Nico, run!” Percy shouted. He leapt towards Red Hood, knowing he wouldn’t overpower the man, but hoping he could distract him long enough for Nico and Will to get away.

He bowled into his shoulder, making him stumble, but Red Hood quickly regained his footing, startlingly agile for a man his size. Percy felt Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him back as the vigilante kicked at the back of his knees, forcing Percy onto the damp grass. Red Hood pulled a pistol from a holster on his hip and trained it on his chest.

“You can’t shoot him, Hood,” Nightwing said, sounding like this was a recurring argument.

“He’s poking around m- a random grave in the middle of the night,” Red Hood said, never lowering his weapon.

“Dude, it’s not even eleven.” Percy raised an eyebrow. “What are you, like thirty?”

Nightwing sighed. “Thirty isn’t that old.”

Percy silently disagreed. Reaching his thirties would be a miracle.

Nico stepped forward, shadows clinging to his pale skin. He made a show of placing his sword on the ground and kicking it away, but Percy knew he could easily grab it if he needed to. Nico was probably the best swordsman at camp, besides himself.

“We aren’t looking for trouble,” Nico said.

Nightwing cocked his head curiously. “Then what are you looking for?”

The demigods glanced at each other, unsure of how much to reveal. Will and Nico both ended up looking to him to answer, and Percy rolled his eyes at them.

“Well, my creepy emo friend and his emotional support blonde,” he began, ignoring Nico sticking out his tongue at him, “Are in town and wanted to do some urban exploring, but we’re all done, so we’ll be going now.”

The vigilantes looked utterly unconvinced, but they allowed Percy to stand up.

“It’s been truly great meeting you,” Percy said, giving a lazy salute, “Say hi to Batman for me.”

Will and Nico picked up the garbage from the Happy Meal and Coke, where it lay discarded on the base of the gravestone.

“Let’s not do this again,” Nico said, voice oozing false cheeriness.

Will grabbed Nico by the hand and began the walk to the iron gate, Percy trailing along behind them. As they stepped onto the street, Percy shot a final look behind him. Red Hood and Nightwing stood in deep discussion, lit dimly by a flickering streetlamp.

They walked for a few blocks in silence, shaken by the evening’s events. Occasionally, Percy’s eyes were drawn to the shadows; he could have sworn something lay watching just beyond his sight. When he noticed Will and Nico peer over their shoulders for the fourth time, he stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, he scanned the area for anything out of place. The buildings lay far apart, without tight alleyways where monsters could hide. A scattering of trees lined the sidewalk, but the branches were too thin to support the weight of anything bigger than a raccoon. Finally, he saw it, a tiny flash of movement on the roof of a rundown restaurant across the street.

He tilted his head and squinted, trying to make out what it was. As the clouds above parted for a moment and the moon shone brighter, Percy realized it was another Bat.

“Styx,” he cursed, elbowing the others and nodding to the roof, “There’s another one.”

“It’s like they’re obsessed with us or something,” Will joked, shaking his head.

Percy laughed and agreed, but internally, he kicked himself. He should have known Nightwing and Red Hood wouldn’t let them go so easily.

Nico studied the figure for a moment. “Do you think they can hear us?”

Percy shook his head. They were too far away for a regular person to overhear them, still, Percy felt uneasy as the figure watched them, unmoving and ominous.

“Good,” Nico continued, “Jason Todd has definitely died before, I can feel it.”

Percy shuddered, imagining what it would be like to sense something like that. “How’d he come back?”

Nico shrugged, which was entirely unhelpful. “I’ll ask Thanatos about it.”

A realization struck him and he inhaled sharply. “If Jason got through when the Doors were open, will Thanatos send him back?” He didn’t think the Waynes would appreciate it if he got Jason sent back to the Underworld.

“His soul has been back in his body for longer than that. He came back before Gaea had them chained,” Nico said. Percy wasn’t sure how he knew, but he didn’t want to ask.

They started walking again, their steps coming faster now. It was getting late, and Percy didn’t want to be walking around Gotham in the dark any longer than necessary.

By the time they reached Wayne Manor, the moon was high in the sky, peeking through the smog and clouds. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they approached the massive black iron gates. Nico and Will told him to keep in touch, and Percy watched as they stepped into a shadow and disappeared, Nico’s arm tight around Will’s waist.

Percy sighed and made his way back over the fence, across the lawn, and up the water spout. Quietly, he crawled through the open window and slid it shut behind him. He groaned in exhaustion and moved to flop onto his bed, startled by a voice behind him.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

Chapter Text

Percy turned around slowly, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding.

Alfred was standing in front of his door, hands clasped behind his back and lips pressed in disapproval.

“Hey, Alfie,” Percy said nervously, “How’s it going?” He awkwardly kicked off his shoes to give himself something to do other than face Alfred’s disappointment burning into his back..

Thinking back on it, he probably should have let Alfred know he would be sneaking out. Not only could Alfred have covered for him if anyone realized he snuck out, but Percy hated making him worry.

“You are extremely lucky I disabled the security system,” Alfred said.

Percy cringed. As it turned out, the lawn was boobytrapped after all.

“Next time you decide to run about a graveyard in the middle of the night, do try not to be caught.” Alfred seemed entirely unimpressed, more at Percy’s lack of stealth than his visit to the cemetery.

“How do you even know-nevermind,” Percy cut himself off, “ Of course Dick snitched.” The eldest Wayne brother seemed to suffer from a case of Eldest Daughter Syndrome.

Alfred’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. “You know?”

“I had a very enlightening dream,” Percy muttered, sinking into the bed.

“What do you plan to do about it?”

That was a good question. Percy knew what he needed to do: kill the Joker and get the Hades out of Gotham City. However, he hadn’t the faintest clue how to do that, and deep down, part of him twinged at the thought of leaving. He didn’t care to examine his feelings on why that might be the case, and he certainly didn’t think of skateboards and tea.

“I’ve always been more of an act-now-think-later kinda guy,” he said.

“In that case, I suppose it’s fortunate that I happen to excel at strategy,” Alfred said, 

“You aren’t turning me in? I snuck out and I know their secret,” Percy said. Surely Batman would take issue with what he had done.

“My loyalty falls first and foremost to the legion," Alfred said, “Always.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and the familiar black marks signifying his service in the Twelfth Legion. Unlike Percy’s tattoo, Alfred bore the crossed spear symbol of Mars with ten neat black lines beneath.

“Ave Camp Jupiter.” The words slipped off Percy’s tongue like a long-forgotten prayer, bitterness barely hidden.

Alfred pursed his lips before seemingly deciding on the right words.

“It is my duty to honor the gods and the legion, despite my ties to the Wayne family,” Alfred said as he fixed his sleeve, brushing away nonexistent dust from the cuff. He shooed Percy off the bed and began remaking it, tucking the sheets crisply beneath the mattress and fluffing the pillows, speaking softly as he worked.

“My mother was a daughter of Mars,” he began, “When she finished the required ten years of service, she wanted a life beyond New Rome, so she moved to England, where she met my father. My family moved back to the States the year I turned ten. My father worked here, at Wayne Manor, and my mother sent me to New Rome. I served ten years then, returned to England and worked as an intelligence officer, dabbled in the theater, and spent time as a field medic, before finally following in my father’s footsteps and moving to Gotham City to take care of Wayne Manor.”

Alfred spoke with a quiet openness that Percy wasn’t sure he had seen him use before. As the man spoke, he smiled, as if caught up in a distant memory.

When Alfred would visit Manhattan, he would tell stories of his time overseas. Percy found himself paying attention to every detail, able to sit still and listen for hours, despite his ADHD. Alfred had never shared about his time serving the legion, but now that he knew, Percy could recognize the signs of a Roman warrior, every detail the picture of a perfect soldier.

Alfred met his gaze, and Percy realized he had been staring. “Right, uh, strategy and stuff.” He grabbed a notepad from the desk and fumbled around for a pen. When he couldn’t find one, he pulled Riptide from his pocket, removing the cap and replacing it on the hilt.

Even though the pen grew into a sword and shrank back, Alfred remained unfazed, only humming slightly in curiosity.

They spent the next half hour creating a plan for Percy’s mission, deciding to work to Percy’s strengths and create a rough checklist, while leaving out smaller details. This way, Percy at least knew what he needed to do, but he could still improvise and adapt as he went.

By the time they had finished, Percy was exhausted. The stress of the night had caught up with him, and he longed for sleep. Alfred said goodnight, and Percy laid back on his mattress, barely able to get his jacket off before sleep crashed over him.

—————————————————————————————————————

The next three days passed in a blur. He ate breakfast and dinner with the Waynes and skipped lunch. He spent long hours in the pool, thinking over the choices he had made to end up there, or not thinking at all. He left the Manor when he could to wander around Gotham, ending up speaking to a few nature spirits about the Joker. But most importantly, he spent his time researching.

He had never been a stellar student, and spending so much time in front of a screen gave him a persistent headache, but Apollo had ensured the computer translated to Ancient Greek, so his dyslexia was manageable. 

Every article he read, every dark, twisted detail he uncovered, sent a new wave of anger coursing through him. He had been warned, but seeing it for himself solidified what he had been told: the Joker was a despicable person, if he could even be considered a person.

On the third day, he worked up the nerve to ask Alfred about Jason’s death.

He knew he should have asked sooner, but he stopped himself every time he tried to bring it up. Alfred had enough to bear without dragging up such a sensitive topic. Though each time Percy’s search for information on Jason’s death hit a dead end, he wished he could ask someone who had been there.

When he brought it up, Alfred’s face fell before he schooled his expression, but Percy noticed the weariness in his eyes. Alfred told him the story of Jason’s death with grief staining the edges of his voice. Percy couldn’t bring himself to question him any further; instead, he asked to see a picture of Jason before his death.

Alfred obliged and gingerly took a photo album off a bookshelf, flipping through the pages with a gentle smile. He picked one out and handed it to Percy. It showed a younger Jason, grinning wildly as he held an award for a writing competition.

He stared at the weathered film in his hands. Jason was six inches shorter, leaner, and had startling blue eyes. The Jason that Percy had met was built like a brick shit house, with eyes that shifted green in certain lighting and a bright streak of white in his hair.

When he retreated to his room, Percy inspected the picture closer, finding the small scars covering Jason’s skin. He recognized jagged nicks from a sharp blade, a few burns, and countless others. However, none looked familiar. As he thought about it, Percy realized Jason still had plenty of scars, but none of them aligned with the picture, and all of them couldn’t be more than a few years old.

Percy immediately IMed Nico and relayed the information; it felt like too much of a coincidence to brush off.

“It certainly sounds like magic,” Nico conceded, “I’ll talk with Hazel, do some digging, and see what I can find.”

Percy didn’t know if he would be digging for information or corpses, but he decided he didn’t want to ask.

“Okay, thanks, stay safe,” he said.

“I’ll try,” Nico said, rolling his eyes, “You too, Kelphead.”

Percy laughed and waved goodbye before swiping through the rainbow message.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, processing the new information and trying not to jump to conclusions, going over what he knew for a fact in his head.

The Joker had killed the second Robin, Jason Todd, who had miraculously returned from the grave, drastically different. Bruce Wayne was rich enough to afford the best doctors and plastic surgeons there were, but he was pretty sure even they couldn’t fix what had happened to Jason.

The only thing Percy could think of that erased scars like that was swimming in a certain River of Hate, which was definitely not a safe pastime, and shouldn’t even be possible for mortals.

He groaned as an idea popped into his head. The only other place that might have the information he needed was wherever the Waynes kept their Bat stuff, which meant Percy had some exploring to do.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Percy skipped breakfast. He woke up early and crept down the stairs and out of the Manor. Stretching in the warmth of the morning sun, he breathed in deeply. The air was crisp and fresh, nothing like the choking smog in the heart of the city.

He heard the waves crashing against the rocky beach in the distance and felt the overwhelming desire to join them. Figuring a quick swim couldn’t hurt, Percy made his way to the edge of the cliff. Looking down, Percy felt his heart beat faster; it was a long drop to the water.

For as long as he could remember, the ocean had called to him. Even before he had discovered he was a demigod, he felt a burning in his bones that was only soothed by the sea against his skin. When the world got too loud, he could sink beneath the waves and leave it behind. Down there, he was in control, the water was under his command, but he didn’t have to answer to anyone.

He looked around, checking that no one was watching, before steeling himself. With a running start, Percy leapt off the cliff and hurdled toward the water below. He hit the water with a splash and sank deep into the frothy waves. The freezing temperature didn’t bother him; in fact, he was filled with a tantalizing energy.

Zipping through the water, he felt the tension slip from his shoulders and the worry melt from his brow. Diving deeper, he sped towards the ocean floor, coming to a stop in the murky sand. He walked along the bottom of the bay, greeting a dolphin that he passed and chatting with a sand tiger shark about the weather.

Eventually, he felt the presence of fresh water nearby. Curious, he swam towards it to investigate. The source turned out to be an underground river flowing from the rock cliffside. Figuring he didn’t have anything better to do, he cautiously swam into the river, fighting the current to enter the rocky passage.

The space was a tight fit, only a few feet in any direction, except back, which disappeared into the darkness. He could feel it stretched for a long way, and he squinted, trying to make out any details, but it was pitch black, and his heat-sensitive eyes couldn’t pick out any temperature differences.

He hyped himself up and swam deeper into the river. The walls widened slightly, but twisted and turned as he made his way farther and farther from the comfort of the open ocean. Just as he began to doubt himself and consider turning back, the river broadened and the ceiling ended, allowing light to stream into the water.

Cautiously, he poked his head above the surface just enough to look around.

His eyes widened in shock, and it was a good thing he kept his mouth underwater, because he was pretty sure he gasped.

The river flowed through an enormous cavern carved from the rocky belly of the cliff, the very same cavern from his dream a few nights ago. Tyche must have been on his side because he had stumbled across the Bats’ secret hideout without even trying.

The cave looked identical to his dream, with dozens of steel walkways and staircases connecting separate parts of the cave. He spotted the display cases, the computer setup, and the entrance to the garage, all exactly like he remembered. The layout was strange; it almost seemed as if they had started building in the corner before realizing they had an entire cave available. Annabeth would be horrified at the lack of planning and impractical use of the space.

Being in the cave reminded him too much of his previous experiences underground. He shuddered at the memories and half considered letting the current carry him out of the cave. Pushing any thoughts of escape aside, Percy climbed out of the water and onto the concrete flooring.

Instantly, his senses were on full alert. He had left the comfort of the river, and he felt exposed in the fluorescent light of the sprawling cavern. Somewhere above him, stalactites hung, dripping water with a soft plink echoing through the chamber. The cool air helped keep him somewhat grounded, reminding him that he wasn’t in the Pit, just a secret, underground vigilante hideout.

He made his way towards the display cases on the opposite wall, slinking through the safety of the shadows dancing along the cave’s rocky walls. He steered clear of any technology; the last thing he needed was a monster breaking in and attacking, though it was no easy feat. Everywhere he looked, there were blinking tablets and strange gadgets and whirring machines.

Eventually, Percy stood in front of the glass case that had caught his eye. Inside it, the tattered remains of a uniform were displayed. The traffic light color scheme and singular singed glove made his heart ache. Obviously, this had been Jason’s Robin uniform. Percy thought the uniform looked too small for the weight it carried. 

This uniform held the legacy of a fallen hero and a father’s memorial to his son. Jason might be alive, but the display reeked of a grief that wouldn’t fade.

—————————————————————————————————————

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the scraps of a childhood spent fighting someone else’s enemies, but by the time he stepped away, any relief from the ocean had dissipated.

Suddenly, he heard the telltale ding of an elevator and panicked. He sprinted back in the direction of the river. But he hadn’t reacted quickly enough, still shaken by the display.

A small metal object shot towards him, and he only barely dodged, close enough to feel the blade whoosh past his cheek. He dove behind a table and drew Asterías, keeping it in key form until he needed his sword. He crouched, ready to spring up at any moment. The table provided decent cover, but unfortunately, that meant he couldn’t see the rest of the cave.

“Reveal yourself, or else,” Damian’s voice was as sharp as the blade he had thrown.

Percy was at a loss for what to do. It seemed that Damian hadn’t identified him yet, but there was no way Percy could make it back to the river without him finding out.

His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself into a measured calm. If he had been trained for battle since his childhood, and taken on monsters beyond his comprehension and won, he was fairly confident he could handle a kid in a cape.

Scanning his memory of the room, he couldn’t remember any other exits, besides the elevator and the garage, both of which were behind Damian. If he wanted out, he would have to pass him.

“Hiding is futile, I have already alerted Batman of your presence,” Damian called. Percy could hear him stalking ever closer, boots tapping against the stone.

Sure enough, the elevator dinged again, and several sets of footsteps quickly joined Damian.

“Damian, are you okay? What is it?” Dick asked, worry seeping into his voice.

Damian sucked his teeth in annoyance, and Percy could imagine the eye roll he had given his brother. “An intruder is hiding behind that table,” he seethed. “I followed protocol and waited for your arrival, even though I have it handled.”

A heavy set of footsteps moved towards the table. 

Percy held his breath, gripping Asterías tighter in his hand. 

“Nice work, Robin,” Batman said before projecting his voice to echo through the cave. “Come out with your hands up, now .” His voice was low and gravely, eerily reminiscent of the growl of a hellhound. 

A pang of anxiety wormed into his chest, and Percy tried to keep his breathing even. It was times like these when he wished he could control the Mist, maybe then he could literally just walk away. He silently cursed the gods. Why did they have to make his life so complicated?

Not thinking of any better options, Percy slowly raised his arms above the table, dangling Asterías from his thumb. He sighed and stood up, facing the Bats.

“‘Sup,” he said, hands still held out.

Batman grunted in surprise, and the others were in various stages of disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” Tim yelled.

“Uh,” he scrambled to think of something to explain his being there. “Spelunking?”

He tried not to cringe at his poor excuse. The Bats, rightfully, didn’t buy it for a second. In his defense, what else was he supposed to say? That he was the son of a god, and was snooping around so he could find information on Gotham’s number one villain in order to kill him at the request of a different god? The truth sounded like an even worse lie than recreational cave exploring.

“Try again,” Jason smirked, or Percy thought he did; he couldn’t actually see his face through the thick red helmet he wore. In fact, if he hadn’t already known their identities, it would have been nearly impossible to tell who was who. They each wore their uniform, including some sort of mask.

“Right, the truth is I was kinda just wandering around the manor and ended up here, my bad.” He tried to adopt a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that wasn’t gripping Asterías.

“You’re telling me that you just stumbled across the Batcave?” Dick said, crossing his arms in his skepticism.

“The Batcave ? Seriously?” Percy exclaimed. “You named it the Batcave ? Let me guess, the whole Batfamily piles into the Batcar to go fight with their Batweapons,” he cackled, almost doubled over in laughter.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s the Bat mobile ,” Damian corrected, completely serious. Of course, this only sent Percy into another fit of laughter.

Batman sighed and stepped towards him, sending a fresh wave of unease down his spine and cutting off his laughter. He straightened his posture and shifted his feet, anticipation tingling at the tips of his fingers. The grin melted from his face as he narrowed his eyes.

The others noticed the shift in his demeanor and responded accordingly, mirroring his posture, hands moving to rest on their weapons. In a flash, Damian threw another blade at him, forcing Percy to drop to the ground to dodge.

“Ugh, Damian, what the Hades was that for?” He pushed himself off the ground and sprang back up, rolling his eyes.

 Dick placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, as if to hold him back, which Percy was grateful for, considering the kid’s murderous scowl.

“What did you say?” Jason growled, sounding slightly robotic through his helmet.

“Oh, right, I’m not supposed to know his name, my bad,” Percy winced. He was majorly screwing this up. “But, first of all, Dick literally just called him Damian a minute ago, and second, it’s kinda obvious. I mean, we’re under the manor, and, no offense, but those weird eye cover things don’t really hide much,” he explained, and pointed to the black masks that Dick, Tim, and Damian wore.

Now that he was talking, his nerves, in combination with his ADHD, made it hard to stop. He felt the urge to ramble about the other issues with their uniforms, but Batman’s deep frown shut him up.

“We will discuss this later,” Batman turned to the others, “Right now, I have a meeting.”

Percy resisted the desire to run away as fast as possible. When he had decided to explore that stupid river, he hadn’t expected to find a secret crimefighting headquarters, and he really hadn’t wanted to meet Gotham’s favorite vigilantes.

As if on Batman’s cue, a bright light flashed through the cave.

“Recognized, Aquaman, 27.” Percy turned his head to the source as an automated voice rang out. A man stepped out of the golden light and, for half a second, Percy thought he might be a god, considering his unusually bright entrance.

Batman gave Percy a stern look that said to stay right where he was before greeting the man. Gold armor glinted against his dark skin as he strode into the cave, carrying himself with regal seriousness. He shook Batman’s hand and moved to greet the others, before suddenly stopping himself.

“Percy?” The man exclaimed, quickly regaining his composure and walking over to him.

Percy sighed in relief. The man’s arrival provided a welcome distraction, and he might even be able to help Percy’s unfortunate situation.

“Kaldur,” Percy said, pulling him in for a hug, “Long time, no see, man.”

“And whose fault is that?” Aquaman replied, giving him an unimpressed look, “You haven’t been to Atlantis in months.”

Percy winced. Ever since he had told the gods to be more involved in their kids’ lives after the Battle of Manhattan, he had personally invited himself to his father’s palace several times. He mostly avoided his godly relatives, but he enjoyed exploring the underwater cities and meeting the Atlanteans. However, rebuilding after the Second Gigantomachy took priority, so he felt guilty spending time away when Camp needed him.

The glowing portal thing whirred back to life, announcing Arthur Curry.

As his eyes found their way to Percy, he stopped dead in his tracks and gaped, like a fish out of water, head swiveling between Percy, Aquaman, and the Bats.

“My lord-” he began as he fully entered the cave.

Even though Arthur was king of Atlantis, Percy outranked him because his father was the king of the entire ocean, technically making Percy a prince.

“Oh, hey, no need for all that,” Percy said quickly, trying not to panic. He should have known something was about to go terribly wrong, it had all been going remarkably smoothly.

“My apologies, Perseus,” Arthur said and bowed, as if the situation couldn’t get worse.

“Oh my gods, Orin, we’ve talked about this,” Percy sighed, panic giving way to exasperation. He really hated it when Atlanteans treated him all formally just because of who his dad was-it was incredibly embarrassing. “It’s just Percy.”

“Indeed, I apologize,” Arthur said, thankfully not bowing again, once was already going to be hard enough to explain.

“Okay, so what was that?” Dick spoke up, staring blankly at the two. The rest of the Bats looked equally disoriented. Even Batman had a slight frown on his face, the only marker of his confusion.

“Oh, um,” Percy tried to think of a way to explain the encounter, “My dad works in Atlantis.” 

Unfortunately, that was the best he could come up with. For someone hardwired to act in the moment, Percy was decidedly not good at making up lies in a split second. However, in his defense, monsters didn’t usually take the time to interrogate him before trying to eat him, so he was fairly out of practice. Also, it was hard to concentrate knowing that Kaldur would make fun of him for this forever.

“Your father,” Damian crossed his arms, a smug look on his face, “Works in Atlantis?” Clearly, he thought he had caught Percy in some ridiculous lie.

“Yes, Robin, he does, I work with him closely.” Before Percy could defend himself, Arthur gracefully stepped in to defuse the situation, which was definitely a good move on his part because Percy was likely going to sass the vigilante and make everything a whole lot worse.

“Wait a minute,” Tim had been carefully watching the encounter and finally chimed in, “Percy, are you Atlantean?”

That caught Percy totally off guard. “I guess?”

“Ha! I knew it!” Tim exclaimed, far more excited than one would expect for the circumstances. “Pay up.” He stuck his hand out towards Jason, who cursed under his breath, fished a wad of crumpled fifties out of his pocket, and shoved the money into Tim’s outstretched hand.

“Did you seriously bet on that?” Percy asked incredulously.

“It was barely a bet, and besides, I was about ninety percent sure you were at least part Atlantean after I saw you swim,” Tim said, as if dropping hundreds of dollars on a bet over Percy’s ancestry was nothing. Although, Percy supposed that, to the sons of a bajillionaire, a few hundred bucks was probably pretty insignificant.

“Wait, when did you watch me swim?” Percy asked. He didn’t remember seeing anyone besides Damian at the pool when he had gone, but he was staying with a family of vigilantes famed for their stealth.

Tim blushed, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of pink.

“Yeah, Timmy, when were you stalking Percy?” Dick asked his younger brother coyly.

Tim’s blush deepened. “I was just passing by on the way to the gym,” he said a little too quickly.

“But isn’t the gym on the other side of the hall, so you would have had to double back to see-“ Jason’s teasing was promptly cut off by Tim’s elbow to his ribs

Before the brothers could delve into a full-out fight, Batman stepped forward towards Percy and Aquaman. He immediately tensed up, fingers tapping his side, thumbing the cool comfort of Asterías in his palm.

“Arthur, Aquaman,” Batman’s deep, gravelly voice echoed through the cave, cutting off his sons’ chatter. “What brings you to Gotham City?” The vigilante was scarily intimidating, especially considering he was a grown man playing dress up in an overengineered bat costume.

Arthur focused his attention on Batman, briefly shooting Percy a look that told him they would be having a serious conversation later. Percy had to force himself to keep from audibly groaning. Discussing his situation with the godsdamned King of Atlantis was not going to be fun, and Kaldur was definitely never letting this go.

“I looked into the illegal sale of special Atlantean weapons and traced it to Gotham, to the Joker,” Arthur told him.

Percy tried to hide his intense focus on their conversation by keeping his gaze down and absently picking at his cuticles. The two seemed to feel comfortable enough to share the information where the younger Bats and Percy could overhear, but drawing attention to himself might change that.

“Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere,” Batman said, sending Percy the most pointed side eye he had ever experienced.

He should have known it was too good to be true. He sighed internally, hoping to get the opportunity to ask Arthur about it afterwards. If his hunch was correct, the ‘special Atlantean weapons’ were most likely enchanted or celestial bronze or both. If the Joker was supplying arms dealers with divine weapons, it was no wonder the gods would want to intervene. Mortals handling celestial bronze was a big no-no.

Arthur nodded once. “Very well. Perseus, don’t go far, we need to talk.”

Great. He couldn't imagine a single scenario in which a talk with Arthur would make his life simpler,

As soon as Batman and Arthur had disappeared to another part of the cave, Kaldur chuckled and clapped Percy on the back.  Kaldur seemed exceptionally unfazed by the situation, having grown immune after years of dealing with Percy’s antics.

“I can’t wait for your dad to find out,” he could barely hide the humor in his voice.

Percy groaned in frustration. “I can’t believe you guys just walked through a magic portal thing into the Batcave.”

“Hate to interrupt the bromance,” Dick said, making Kaldur and Percy cringe, “But Percy, how did you even get in here? It should be impossible for someone to just walk into the Batcave.”

“Underground river,” Percy said, “So technically, I swam in.”

“What!” Tim blurted, genuinely alarmed.

“What? It’s all cool, I can breathe underwater,” Percy reassured them, “I’m Atlantean, remember?”

Damian frowned. “You do not appear to possess gills.”

“Gills? I’m not a fucking fish ,” Percy said, then added, “No offense, Kaldur.”

His mouth had worked faster than his brain, and now he had to find a somewhat believable explanation for the stark anatomical difference between them. It occurred to Percy that he didn’t even know how he breathed underwater, he just did it.

Aquaman sighed before explaining to the Bats. “Not all Atlanteans have gills.”

Oh, right, Percy had forgotten that.

“Got it,” Dick said, nodding.

“Can you do Atlantean magic?” Tim asked.

“Kinda?” Percy shrugged, figuring it best to keep his answers vague.

Damian raised his eyebrows further in challenge. “Prove it.”

“It’s not exactly lowkey,” Percy said.

Controlling his powers was infinitely easier on a larger scale. It sounded silly, but it was easier for him to summon a tidal wave than to levitate a bucketful of water. Poseidon was the god of the oceans after all, not every source of water.

“Tsk,” Damian somehow looked down his nose at Percy, despite being a full foot shorter, “Sounds like an excuse.”

This kid was really starting to piss him off, but Percy took a deep breath and ignored him.

Damian smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

That was his last straw. Percy focused on the river behind the Bats, reaching out with his powers to stop the flow of water. He felt a tug in his gut as he raised the river in a wave and let it fall back, splashing Damian slightly. Dick, Jason, and Tim all looked to be in various levels of shock, whereas Damian was absolutely furious.

“You drenched my cape,” he muttered, voice low but charged with anger.

Percy laughed. “The water barely touched you. Besides, capes are dumb.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but the kid looked even scarier. Luckily, Dick noticed and put a placating hand on Damian’s shoulder, though he could also have been restraining him from attacking.

Seriously, Percy thought, all he had done was give the kid what he wanted. Maybe if he had asked nicer, he wouldn’t have gotten his precious cape wet.

Just as he was about to tell Damian precisely that, Jason spoke.

“Are we all just going to ignore that the King of Atlantis called Percy ‘lord’?” he said, giving his brothers an incredulous look.

Percy and Kaldur exchanged a glance. Honestly, Percy had sort of hoped they would just ignore that.

“It’s a really funny story, actually,” Percy started, “Kaldur, why don’t you tell them, you’re so good at it.” 

So he threw his friend under the bus, sue him. Kaldur owed him from Percy’s last visit to Atlantis. Kaldur had been invited to one of Arthur’s dinner parties, and he didn’t want to go, so Percy had rescued him. After all, even the King of Atlantis was hesitant to argue with Poseidon’s favorite son.

The smirk on Kaldur’s face promised Percy that he wouldn’t be getting away with that.

“Sure,” Aquaman smiled wider, and Percy knew he was about to regret forcing him to make up the lie. “A few years ago, Percy snuck into the throne room in the palace and decided it would be a great idea to sit on the king’s throne. As soon as he did, the king showed up and caught him still in the seat. Luckily, he thought it was funny and let Percy off with a warning. So, now every time Orin sees Percy, he calls him ‘lord’ to tease him.”

First, Percy had to give credit where credit was due: Kaldur had just lied his ass off, and based on the Bats’ reactions, they bought it. Except Tim, he had that familiar calculating look in his eye. Second, Percy was mortified, and he couldn’t even deny the story because it was mostly true. Percy had sat on the king’s throne and been caught, except the king was his dad, and the palace was in Olympus.

“That’s not exactly what happened, but whatever,” Percy mumbled in embarrassment.

“That’s actually kinda amazing,” Dick said, almost sounding impressed.

Jason nodded and added, “It’s walking the line between absolute dumbassery and crazy ballsy.”

Damian huffed, “That has to be, by far, the stupidest thing you could have done.”

“Nope,” Percy chuckled, “Probably doesn’t even rank in the top five.”

The Bats stared at him as they pondered his statement. Before they could question it, however, Batman and Arthur returned. Batman’s face was as unreadable as ever, but Arthur wore a distinctly troubled look, though he resumed a neutral mask as he got closer.

“ Your father has requested your presence at once, ” Arthur told him in Atlantean.

“ Of course ,” Percy rolled his eyes, “ He can appear anywhere in the blink of an eye, but I have to travel across the Atlantic just to talk to him ,” he responded in perfect Atlantean. When he started speaking with Atlanteans, he had easily picked up the language, since it was derived from Ancient Greek, it felt natural on his tongue.

Arthur shifted uneasily, nervous to speak out against Poseidon. Instead, he made his way to the tunnel where the glowing portal had appeared. “Come, Perseus, we can take the Zeta Tube,” he said.

Percy did not follow him. “The what?” He had no clue what a Zeta Tube was, and he had no inclination to find out by walking into it.

“The Zeta Tube,” Tim tilted his head slightly in confusion, “How else would you get to Atlantis?”

Percy ignored his question. He had been planning on swimming. His father’s palace wasn’t that far off the coast, maybe an hour or so from the Long Island Sound.

“Just take the Zeta,” Kaldur said, making his way to stand next to Arthur.

Percy crossed his arms and stayed where he was. “There’s no way I’m going through a random magic portal.” Then, just loud enough for Kaldur to hear, he spoke in Atlantean, “ With my luck, the god of Zeta Tubes is going to smite me before we get to Atlantis .”

Kaldur sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off by Damian scoffing.

“It’s not magic, you imbecile, it’s science,” the boy said.

In Percy’s opinion, that was arguably worse. At least he was familiar with magic. He didn’t remember taking a class in school on the science of teleportation devices.

“ Percy ,” Kaldur’s voice was low and measured, “ You will take the Zeta .”

He narrowed his eyes. “The fuck I will,” he said, then, “ Or what ?”

Kaldur smiled, and Percy faltered. “ Or ,” he paused, as if to savor the moment, “ I’ll tell everyone how you got that scar on your shin. ”

Percy paled in shock and fear. He hadn’t thought Kaldur would strike such a low blow. He had gotten the scar last time he was in Atlantis, not from a dangerous situation, but from a very embarrassing one involving a few flights of stairs, a blindfold, and a bronze dagger.

“Okay, fine, but if I get blown up again, I’m blaming you,” Percy muttered.

Dick gasped. “Again?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Percy strode to the Zeta Tube and spoke over his shoulder before stepping into the tunnel.

Chapter Text

He pushed open the abalone shell doors and swam through. The room was completely circular, with sprawling mosaics shifting across the walls, retelling epic battles long past. Around a large stone table in the center of the room stood Poseidon. He wore his usual fishing hat and blindingly bright Hawaiian shirt, looking out of place amidst the regal flair of the room.

“Percy, how are you, my boy?” Poseidon asked, his smile crinkling the corners of his seagreen eyes.

He joined his father at the table, pretending to study the parchment strewn across it. Percy knew that as soon as he answered, Poseidon would be able to tell if he was being truthful. He weighed his options: either lie and get called out, or worse, tell the truth and admit he wasn’t okay.

“Can’t complain,” he said, shrugging.

The past few weeks- months, years?- had hit him hard, but he wouldn’t tell his father that. Poseidon had other, better things to do; he didn’t need to hear about Percy’s struggles.

Poseidon frowned slightly, but he didn’t question him further, much to Percy’s relief.

After a long, mildly awkward pause, Percy broke the silence. “So, why’d you want to see me?”

His father ignored the question.

 “How are you, my boy? Have you been eating enough? Sleeping well?” Strangely enough, Poseidon looked somewhat interested in his answers.

Percy bit back a sigh. “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.” He had made it seventeen years without his dad being present in his life; he wasn’t sure why Poseidon seemed to care now.

He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Poseidon must have noticed because his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth turned down.

“Percy,” His dad started, softly, “You have done things even the gods don’t dare to try. You are a survivor, don’t forget it. Walking through Tartarus-”

Percy cut him off, trying not to shake. “I don’t want to talk about Ta- the Pit.” Suddenly, everything seemed like too much. Just a second ago, the water had seemed cool and refreshing, but now it was biting into his skin, the freezing darkness pressing too tightly around him.

Poseidon clenched his jaw, but gratefully didn’t press the issue, waiting for Percy to speak again.

“I’m already on a quest,” Percy pointed out, trying not to let his emotion show on his face, but his voice was weak, and he hated it. His dad was right, he was a survivor, so why did he feel so broken?

Poseidon smiled, still tense. “I understand. However, I need you to do this first, rescuing the Leocampus takes precedence.”

His father explained that the Leocampus had been caught in a net, and fishermen had illegally sold it to the Gotham Aquarium. As he spoke, his face grew stormy, and the water swirled around his trident violently, reflecting his stormy mood. Percy knew that his father hated the mistreatment of sea creatures and had certainly already dealt with the poachers.

Despite how much he wanted to refuse and swim away, Percy was his father’s son, and he had inherited his sense of justice for the sea. So, he found himself agreeing to rescue the creature.

“By the way, what will the Mist make the Leocampus look like?” Percy asked, just as he was prepared to leave, “Also, what even is a Leocampus?”

“The Leocampus is half lion, half fish.” Poseidon’s eyes twinkled in humor. “I’ve been told the Mist conceals it as a sea lion.”

Percy laughed at that, probably more than he should have.

He was halfway to the door when his father called out. “Wait, I have something for you.” He pulled a sand dollar from one of the many pockets on his cargo shorts and tossed it to Percy with a wink. “Spend it wisely.”

Percy thanked him, pocketing the sand dollar as he swam back into the hall.

—————————————————————————————————————

He swam in silence until he reached the Zeta Tube, where he rejoined Orin and Kaldur.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kaldur asked with a comforting smile.

He shook his head, trying to return the smile.

Percy appreciated the sentiment, but he really didn’t want to relive his conversation with his father so soon. He knew it was unfair, having to take a side quest while in the middle of another, but it felt whiny to complain. Other people were worse off, and besides, he could handle an easy rescue, so why shouldn’t he? It might not be his responsibility, but it wasn’t anyone else’s either, so he would do his duty and step up for his friends.

Orin and Kaldur said goodbye; their business in Gotham was finished, and they wouldn’t be returning with him. A part of Percy wished they were, he could use a familiar face backing him up, but it wasn’t their job to defend him.

By the time he was zapped back to the cave, all he wanted was a nap, but the Bats were right where he had left them. Someone must have alerted Signal and Spoiler, because they had joined the others, deep in discussion. The Bats sat around a conference table, like in his dream, and when the Zeta Tube announced his arrival, every single one of them snapped to attention.

“You’re back,” Batman grunted, rising from his seat at the head of the table. A basic intimidation technique, but Percy hated to admit it worked, just a little.

“Yup.” Percy rocked back on his heels, hands stuck firmly in his pockets to keep from fidgeting.

“Arthur told Batman that your father needed to see you. What did he want?” Nightwing asked.

He wanted to snap that it was none of their business, but he took a deep breath to ease the frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Just business stuff, you know how it is.”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement, motioning for him to take the open seat next to Red Robin. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, staring at Percy, trying to scare him into speaking first. Percy, however, stared right back. If Batman wanted to interrogate him, they were doing it on Percy’s terms.

Finally realizing he wasn’t going to say anything, Nightwing stepped in. “Listen, knowing Robin’s identity is a safety concern. We need to know that you are going to keep this a secret.”

“I don’t care about your secret identities. I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear.” He took Riptide from his pocket and twirled it across his knuckles.

“You know the rest of our identities, as well?” Red Robin asked, worry creasing the corners of his mouth.

He hadn’t meant to reveal that, but screw it. “Yeah, once you know one, it’s not hard to figure out the rest.”

Robin looked like he was about ready to leap across the table and stab him with a pointy object, and the others didn’t seem too opposed to violence either.

“Look, like I said, I really don’t care about your whole vigilante thing, and honestly, it’s none of my business,” he said. He had more pressing concerns, namely the Joker and breaking into the Gotham Aquarium.

“Huh,” Spoiler said, resting her chin on her hand. “In that case.” She removed her hood and mask, much to her family’s disappointment. “I’m Stephanie,” she said.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Percy said, offering a small wave.

“Steph!” Red Robin protested, “He could have been lying!” He rolled his eyes and muttered something about survival instincts under his breath.

There were some weird vibes at the table, Percy noticed. Signal and Red Hood seemed mostly content to stay silent, though it was hard to tell with Red Hood’s helmet covering his face. Nightwing and Red Robin, on the other hand, were the most involved, despite Batman sitting right there. And then there was Robin, who still looked on the edge of uncontrollable rage, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“So,” Percy looked around, “Can I go, or?” He trailed off as he saw Batman twitch slightly.

“There is still the matter of your criminal record,” Batman began, picking up a file set on the table. “You have a frankly concerning number of charges against you, including suspected terrorism. I’m sure you can see why we would be hesitant to trust you.”

Gods, he thought, you blow up a national monument one time and they never let you hear the end of it.

“All the charges have been dropped, and I’ve never been convicted of anything,” he said, straightening in his chair. “Innocent until proven guilty, and all that.”

“And the tattoo?” Red Hood asked, leaning in just a bit, “You’re not even old enough to get one.”

Percy squinted his eyes in confusion before remembering the mark of the legion on his arm and chuckling. “I got it with my dad,” he said, rolling his sleeve up and showing the others his forearm, pointing to each part as he explained their made-up significance. “A trident for Atlantis, SPQR because of my ancestry, and a line because it looked cool.”

Red Hood nodded once, apparently satisfied with his answer. 

They asked a few more questions about his past, which he answered, and about his visit to his father, which he did not. Batman was right, his record was extensive, Percy hadn’t even known about half the stuff on there, and struggled to remember which quest had caused them.

Just as Percy was considering making a break for the exit, tired from all the questioning, Alfred appeared from the elevator. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Percy at the table, so he assumed one of the Bats had filled him in.

“I’m quite sure Percy has answered enough questions for the time being,” Alfred said, raising an eyebrow, daring anyone to challenge him. “Good, now, it is dinnertime, and I expect you all to be there.” He gave Steph and Jason a pointed look.

Alfred shooed the Bats off to another part of the cave, a locker room to change into regular clothes. He watched them leave, then rounded on Percy, still sitting at the table. 

“Are you alright?” His voice was steady as always, but Percy saw the concern creasing his face.

“I’m okay, Alfie, promise,” he reassured him, standing and stretching.

Alfred didn’t look convinced. “Do you care to explain why you went to Atlantis without telling me?”

He cringed. Orin had shown up so suddenly, and he hadn’t even meant to end up in the Batcave in the first place, so telling Alfred his whereabouts had completely slipped his mind.

Percy gave him a rundown of what his father had told him, skipping over his mentions of the Pit.

Alfred still seemed displeased, but he led Percy to the elevator anyway.

As they neared the smooth metal doors, Percy’s heart rate picked up. He took deep breaths, reminding himself that these doors were plain, no designs etched in black, no iron chains, no frost or purple glow. It didn’t help. He couldn’t shake the unease from being underground, surrounded by rock on every side.

He tried to push through it, to force himself to put one foot in front of the other until he stood in the elevator, but he couldn’t do it. He stopped, only inches from the exit. 

“Are there stairs or something?” His voice was painfully small.

A flash of understanding crossed Alfred’s face, and he immediately apologized, leading Percy away. He brought him to a door, camouflaged into the rocky wall, and pulled it open, gesturing Percy through.

Percy was relieved to see a flight of stone stairs, set in a gentle spiral. The passageway was faintly lit, and the lights gave off a low buzzing as they climbed.

They reached the top of the stairs and pushed a panel back to reveal the hallway behind the sitting room. At the same time, Dick and Steph emerged from Bruce’s office, startling slightly when they saw Alfred and Percy.

“Dude, did you take the stairs?” Dick asked, sounding almost offended. “There’s like a million of them, how are you even alive?”

Percy shrugged. His legs burned a bit, but he was mostly fine, unlike Alfred, who didn’t look the least bit affected by the ten flights of stairs.

“I didn’t even know there were stairs,” Steph murmured.

Alfred smiled in amusement and led them into the dining room, where the others waited.

—————————————————————————————————————

Alfred set a bowl of steaming soup in front of him. It looked amazing, some sort of bisque with fresh herbs arranged like it belonged on the cover of a magazine, and it smelled even better. He ladled a bite onto his spoon, but he couldn’t seem to lift it to his mouth. He set it back down and took a sip of his water, though even that took effort.

Looking up, he saw the others happily digging into the meal. Jason was making obscene slurping noises, intentionally annoying Damian, who sipped careful spoonfuls.

He clenched his jaw and reached for a roll from the basket. He pinched a little off and dipped it in the soup, forcing it into his mouth. It tasted like ash on his tongue, but he pushed past, chewing methodically and compelling himself to swallow.

Next to him, Tim and Dick had started spewing soup puns back and forth, making the others groan, and the sound of cutlery clinking against bowls grated on his spine, and Jason was still slurping painfully loudly, and Percy felt his breathing go shallow because it was all too much.

He stood up, too fast, and excused himself from the table, practically running back upstairs to his room. Slumping against the door, he dug his heels into the rug and shut his eyes tight.

“Gods,” he muttered, “This is so stupid .”

He should be able to choke down a singular bowl of soup without crying. It’s not like Alfred’s cooking was bad, quite the opposite, even then, he had eaten worse things on quests, so it shouldn’t matter. And, if he was being honest, it didn’t. He could have a plate of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, and he wouldn’t touch it.

He knows he should get up, eat something, call Nico. Instead, he crawls into bed, still dressed, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning, Percy went down to the kitchen early with the hope that the others would still be sleeping. Alfred was, unsurprisingly, already busy scrambling eggs and buttering toast, humming along to a vaguely familiar classical song drifting from the old portable radio in the corner. He greeted Percy with a smile and offered a box of cereal, which Percy happily accepted.

The morning light streamed through the open windows and warmed his face. Usually, he found stillness off=putting, the lack of movement felt unnatural, like his bones were itching. But he didn’t mind it then, sitting at the little table and watching Alfred work as he ate.

With a frown, Percy realized he had been so preoccupied during his stay that he hadn’t really had the chance to catch up with Alfred. So, he asked things like how Alfred was doing and did he like his job and when did he last visit New Rome. Alfred answered him easily, seemingly happy to have another demigod to talk with, especially one who spoke Latin.

A question popped into his mind, the desperate kind that you can’t ignore because it’ll keep burning in your head until it gets asked.

“ Alfie, do you pray ?” Percy blurted.

Alfred spun around in surprise, nearly dropping his frying pan. “ What sparked that question ?”

“ I don’t know, just wondering, ” Percy shrugged and took another bite of his cereal, thinking as he chewed and suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “ I really only legit pray, like with giving offerings and everything, at camp. I know some people burn offerings at home, though. I guess I just wondered if it would make a difference. ”

Alfred wiped his hands on his apron, shutting off the stove in order to join him at the table. “ Make a difference ?”

Percy twirled his spoon around the milk in his bowl. “ Yeah, ” he hesitated, trying to find the words to express his point. “ Do you think they would leave me alone if I sacrificed to them? Would it make up for breaking the oath ”

He did not want to look up, but Alfred cupped his chin and lifted his face to meet his own. A mix of emotions flashed in his eyes, and his jaw was set tightly. “ Listen to me, Percy, it is not your fault. Your father broke the oath, as for the consequences, however, I’m afraid it is up to the Fates .”

Looking back to his bowl, he tried to laugh but made a noise closer to a shaky exhale. “ Maybe I should pray to them then .”

They sat without speaking for a while after, listening to soft piano music and the breeze rustling the trees outside the windows.

Eventually, Tim padded into the kitchen, eyes bleary from sleep and hair disheveled. 

Alfred went back to the stove, and Tim took the seat beside Percy at the table, laying his head on his arms and groaning about being awake. Alfred placed a plate of breakfast in front of Tim, and he dutifully ate it, almost falling asleep as he munched on toast.

Percy smiled into his cereal.

Damian was the next to arrive, followed closely by Dick and Jason, who had apparently stayed the night. Percy assumed they had all had another discussion about him in the cave after he went to bed, which he had half expected.

By the time the rest had made their way downstairs, they had to relocate to the dining room table in order to fit everyone.

Everyone took their usual seats, chattering loudly and overall seeming a lot more awake than Percy felt, and certainly more awake than Tim looked. Bruce sat at the head of the table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee from a ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ mug.

They seemed content to entirely ignore what had gone down the previous day, reinforcing Percy’s theory that they had had another meeting without him.

“So, what’s it like fighting crime in spandex?” he asked, innocently taking a sip of orange juice. The day before, they had interrogated him, he only thought it fair that he ask some questions of his own.

At once, the room went silent and the others turned to look at him in various states of disbelief.

Unsurprisingly, it was Damian who answered. “Our uniforms are not made of spandex,” he insisted with a huff.

Someone had really ought to teach the kid to take a joke.

Percy rolled his eyes, and Damian frowned, luckily, Duke chimed in before Damian could throw something. “Being a hero is rewarding, but it’s hard, too,” he said with a sad smile. “You can’t always save everyone.” 

Percy knew that all too well.

“Also, capes are cool as hell,” Steph added, stuffing a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Everyone except Damian and Dick laughed, brushing past the tense moment.

“Capes are annoying,” Dick protested.

“I think I have to agree with Dick,” Percy said. “Capes look cool, but they’re so impractical.”

Damian scoffed. “You act as if you have experience with capes.”

“I do,” Percy shot back, “Ask Alfie if you don’t believe me.” He was vaguely aware of the rest of the table sharing suspicious looks, but he ignored them.

Alfred hadn’t seen him in full regalia, though Percy was sure he knew he had been a praetor, even if it was only for a short while.

“Very well,” Damian said before calling Alfred into the room. “Pennyworth, does Jackson have experience wearing a cape?”

“Yes,” he replied easily. If Alfred thought the question strange, he didn’t show it.

Damian was apparently unsatisfied with his answer. “What color?”

“Purple,” Percy said, and Alfred nodded in agreement as he went back to the kitchen.

Stephanie squealed in excitement. “Purple is the best color for a cape!”

Damian wrinkled his nose, but thankfully remained quiet. Unfortunately, this left room for the others to ask questions.

“Which Atlantean city are you from?” Tim asked.

Percy panicked a little, he could never remember the names of all the city states that made up Atlantis.

“Well, I’m from New York, and my dad lives near Poseidonis,” he said. He only remembered that because it was basically his dad’s name.

“Do you visit often?” Tim asked.

Percy shrugged. “Not really, it’s pretty far from home.”

Tim barely hummed in acknowledgement before asking his next question. “How do you get there? By boat or-”

“Jesus, Tim, give the kid a break,” Jason said, laughing as the tips of Tim’s ears turned pink and he mumbled an apology.

Percy offered Jason a grateful smile. He was more than happy to answer Tim’s questions about Atlantis, but he didn’t want to risk slipping up and revealing something he shouldn’t. Maybe he would find time to talk with Tim later so he could answer all his burning questions in private.

Bruce, seemingly having tuned out everything, set his newspaper down and spoke for the first time. Percy didn’t know how he had ignored the conversation up until then, but the guy did have a million children, so Percy probably shouldn’t have underestimated his powers of selective hearing.

“Well, I’m off,” Bruce said, standing and buttoning his suit jacket, “Will I be seeing you all for dinner?” he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.

“Probably not, I’ve got a late shift. Maybe tomorrow night, though,” Dick said.

Jason grunted in a way that could have either meant yes or no, Percy had no clue.

Bruce looked inquisitively to Stephanie. She nodded and waved as he left.

“You’re a weird guy, Percy,” she said, laughing and skipping her way back upstairs.

Percy disagreed, she was definitely weirder than him. Shaking his head, he pushed back his chair, intending to return to his bedroom, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

He raised an eyebrow, and Tim coughed a little, snapping his hand back to his side.

“I was just wondering if you were busy today, or if you wanted to hang out,” Tim said, fidgeting with his napkin.

In the background, Jason snorted, earning a glare from Tim.

“I wish I could, but I have to visit the aquarium for my dad.” He felt bad disappointing Tim, but he had to rescue the Leocampus as soon as possible. The longer it stayed at the aquarium, the more likely it was for something to happen that would make rescuing it infinitely more challenging.

Tim nodded, covering his disappointment with a small smile.

“I don’t have work until this evening,” Dick said, coming to his brother’s aid. “And I know Jay doesn’t have a life, so why don’t we all go. We can make a day of it.”

Jason scowled, but Tim lit up like a firework, his weak smile instantly melting into something more real. Percy struggled to hold back a dopey grin. “Sure,” he said, with maybe a little too much enthusiasm. He was excited to go to the aquarium, that’s why. No other reason. Definitely not because of who he was going with, no way.

As they piled into the car after breakfast, he finally remembered that he was supposed to be working while at the aquarium, and he didn’t think a bunch of vigilantes would be cool with him stealing a sea lion from its enclosure.

He would have to find a way to break off from the group to sneakily free the Leocampus. It would be harder with the others with him, but he couldn’t help but think the smile on Tim’s face made it worth it.