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Percy woke up wishing he hadn't. He had always hated mornings, but it had gotten worse lately. He hated everything about himself, actually. He hated the trauma that controlled his dreams. He hated plastering on a fake smile during the day. Most of all, he hated counting the days since Hera took Jason.
Eighty-four days.
Almost three months.
Percy didn't know why he kept track. Maybe it was to convince himself that Jason was coming back. Maybe it was to punish himself for letting Jason help Lester, aka Apollo.
Jogging down to breakfast, all smiles and jokes, he pushed aside his worries. That was the only good thing Smelly Gabe had taught him: How to bury his feelings.
"Morning, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth smiles, waving him over to the Athena table. Percy plants a quick kiss on her nose, sitting down as breakfast appears on his plate. The only good part of his day was when he was around Annabeth. The only reason he hadn't given in to the thoughts that seemed to only get bigger and more insistent by the hour. But they were wrong. Jason wasn't in Elysium. Hera had taken him, just like she'd taken Percy. He was sleeping somewhere in a nice field, alive and well. Just asleep.
Percy shovelled the food into his mouth, not because he was hungry, but because he needed to keep up appearances. He talked with Annabeth and her siblings, not because he had anything to say, but because he needed to keep up appearances. It was always appearances recently.
"Perry Johnson, why are you at the Athena table!?" Mr. D yells from the Directors' table with Chiron.
"I don't know, Donald, why are you at the Directors' table!?" Percy shouts back, grinning. Fake it 'till you make it, right?
Chiron calls Percy over after breakfast. He drags his feet up the hill, knowing it'll be a new prophecy. In Chiron's horse form, the centaur towers over Percy, his white coat and grey hair trimmed short. He's wearing a brown tweed jacket, one of his favorites. The director hands him a cup of tea, sitting down across from Percy on the couch. When he looks at him, Percy can't help but become a twelve year old again. Scared. Awkward. Overwhelmed. Looking up to Chiron for answers, for guidance.
"Percy, my boy," Chiron begins, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are you?"
"Sad that I'm missing out on Arts and Crafts time."
"Would you rather not go on a secret mission with your friends?" Chiron asks, humor wrinkling the skin around his eyes.
"'Secret mission?'" He echoes, confused. Chiron doesn't usually call prophecies missions, though I have done quite a few in secrecy.
"Well, the mortal holiday - Christmas - is coming up, Percy," he explains patiently, Percy figures, happy to be his teacher once again. Chiron's admitted more than once that his time as Mr. Brunner was one of his favorite experiences of the mortal world. "Coming to Camp Half-Blood is difficult, especially for young campers, and we like to reintroduce some normalcy for them. We typically send the satyrs to scout good places to buy this year's gifts, but they've been preoccupied with the influx of demigods reaching the claiming age. So, if you're interested, Percy, you and your friends have all of Camp's financial backing to find the best Christmas gifts. Unless you'd rather go to Arts and Crafts?"
Percy's mind races ahead of him, already thinking of the toy shops they could go. He remembers his mom taking him to one on 68th street every year. Then it hits him, way too obvious of an answer: Annabeth mentioned a few weeks ago that she had never been to a Build-a-Bear Workshop. This could be the perfect opportunity!
But of course, he can never be happy for long. The gods have ensured that for most of Percy's life, and now his own thoughts have taken up the slack.
I wonder if Jason had ever gone to Build-a-Bear.
By that afternoon, Percy had gathered his two oldest friends - Grover and Annabeth. "Just like the good old days!" When the quests were simple. When he wasn't crushed under guilt. But Percy doesn't add that, obviously.
The three of them leave with Argus, the hundred-eyed chauffeur of Camp Half-Blood. He's great - weaving in and out of traffic, whizzing through the streets, stopping on the drop of a dime. Percy wishes he was good at something like that, something more than just killing for the gods.
"Percy, is that it?" Annabeth asks, taking his shoulder and pointing out the window. Sitting there is one of the largest Build-a-Bear Workshops he's ever seen, bright happy colors cutting through the dreary New York weather.
"Yeah! Argus, stop here!"
Percy, Annabeth, and Grover jump out of the car, buzzing with excitement. Inside, the walls are lined with stuffed animals, clothes, stuffing machines, and scents and voice boxes. There's a giant tan bear in the center dressed as the Statue of Liberty. There are a few workers, a lot of little kids and their parents, but Percy, Annabeth, and Grover are the only teenagers. Percy can't help but feel a little jealous of the dads with their kids. He wished Poseidon had been around a little more in his childhood. Or at all.
"Oh my gods," Annabeth whispers, eyes wide.
"I told you it was great!" Percy says. "All of childhood in one room! Now come on! You'll love the heart ceremony!"
"I'm assuming I can't eat any of these, right?" Grover asks with a sigh.
"No!"
"No I can't eat the bears, or no I can?"
"No, you can't."
"Fine, but we'd better get lunch after this. I'm starving!"
Exploring the store, the trio shows each other stuffed animals and have them sniff dents and record silly messages in the distorted voice boxes. He feels like a little kid again, for once forgetting all of his worries. He's out having fun with his two best friends in the world. What more could Percy ask for?
Word of advice: Never say that. Never even think it.
As Annabeth goes to get her mothman with bright red eyes stuffed, Percy notices a blue one sitting on the counters, haphazardly sandwiched between frogs and unicorns. Some little kid must've re-shelved it after they found something they liked more.
He instinctually picks the bear up, thinking that with all of camp's money, they can probably get another bear.
It's light blue with brown eyes, a happy smile, and a white belly. Its arm is raised in a wave, as if specifically looking at Percy.
No, that's crazy. Even Greek gods wouldn't inhabit a plush bear just to get Percy's attention.
Internally, he sighs. He needs a break from the mythological world. He's going to lose his mind.
But the bear is cute, so Percy decides to keep him. By now, he's behind Annabeth and Grover - they're already picking out clothes for their animals.
"Hi!" A worker chirps happily. "Is that the bear you want?"
She has bright brown hair and the standard Build-a-Bear uniform with colorful handmade bracelets up to her elbows. Not clear-sighted. Definitely not a demigod. He's more than a little jealous.
Faking a smile, Percy nods and shoves down his feelings.
"He's so cute, right? One of my favorites." She asks, "What stuffing were you thinking of?"
"Probably just normal," he shrugs.
"Okay! Do you want to record a message or have a scent?"
It's then that Percy realizes the small defect on the bear's mouth. A little bit of extra thread, slightly off-center. Barely noticeable.
Like a scar.
Like Jason's scar.
Percy fights to choke back a sob. He wants to burn the toy to a crisp. He wants to never let it go. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know why. Jason's not dead. He's not dead. He's just- Hera just took him. Just like she took Percy for six months. Jason is fine. Jason will come back. Percy just has to keep waiting for him. So why does he feel like this?
"Uh- sure. Sure. Both. Please." Percy stumbles through his words, feeling like a drunken parrot. 'Polly wants a cracker' turns into 'Polly wants- huh? No, Poly. Uh... Crack. Poly wants crack."
"Alright," the worker nods, not picking up on his sudden change. "Everything you need is over there! You can pick out what you want while I stuff him!"
Percy joins Annabeth and Grover at the nearest wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves of different sizes and qualities of recorders and hundreds of different scent options. The scents are all different colors in the shape of a bear head. One smells like strawberries. Another smells like bubblegum. A lot of normal scents like lavender, apples, coffee, chocolate, vanilla, fairy floss, and pumpkin spice. Then some weirder ones: Pizza, burnt marshmallow, mermaid, popcorn, cedarwood, and something called "Underwater Dreams."
The voice boxes take up only a small section of the wall. Some are just plain white circles, others red hearts with raised centers. He presses on one and it starts beating like a real heart. It hasn't been too long since Percy was at Build-A-Bear, but he doesn't remember beating hearts or scents beside the standard everyday ones - strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. His instinct is to not get anything more expensive than just the bear he picked out, but Camp Half-Blood basically has infinite money. Spending a couple extra dollars won't harm anyone, right?
Annabeth and Grover are far ahead of him by now, so Percy rushes to catch up. He grabs the nearest recorder - one of the red hearts - but...
The wall of scents seem to grow three sizes in front of him. There are too many options. Percy's never felt overwhelmed like this. Like having a say in his future is a bad thing. Percy has never had that before. Jason had never had that before.
The past tense stabs Percy in the heart all over again.
Okay. Just close your eyes. Whichever your hand lands on, you'll take it. Just pick one up.
He reaches out and takes one in his hand, lifting it up to smell.
Rain.
A tear slips down Percy's cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, panic arcing down his back like lightning strikes.
He stands, frozen, breathing in the artificial scent. It's the closest he's ever been to Jason since he died- No. No, Jason's not dead. Since he was taken by Hera. Not dead. Just taken.
He nearly runs back to the worker then, needing more than anything to finish and get out. Build-a-Bear Workshop is quickly becoming his least favorite place in the world. He wanted a distraction from Jason, not being trapped in a room that Jason had never been in and yet still reminds Percy of everything about him.
"Here," Percy whispers hoarsely.
She makes happy chitchat the entire time, but it's more of a one-sided conversation, which is just fine with Percy.
He basically skips the Fluff Me station - brushes and small blow-dryers and combs. It's mostly for kids, but usually Percy always wants to take as long as possible in the store, to stay away from Smelly Gabe as long as possible. But Smelly Gabe is dead, and Percy is dying with every moment that passes in here.
Percy also doesn't really know what outfit to pick, but rather than letting himself get overwhelmed like with the scents, he just grabs a shirt and continues on. Annabeth and Grover are already at the Name Me station. Percy just wants to get this over with and leave. The lights and colors sting his eyes. Also the tears he's holding in, but that's besides the point.
"Hey Percy!" Grover grins, waving at him. The satyr has a frog in Easter Bunny pajamas. Annabeth's Mothman is dressed in a Doctor Who outfit, because of course Annabeth is obsessed with Doctor Who.
"Blue, as always," Annabeth sighs lovingly.
"Like there's any other correct choice!" Percy says defensively. "So, tell me their names. Wait, no, let me guess. Froggy and Mothy? Forest and Shadows? Alright, maybe just a small hint!"
"Thistle and Archimedes." Annabeth rolls her eyes in response to my confused look. Obviously Percy knows who Archimedes is - kinda -, but Annabeth loves explaining things to him, and Percy loves listening to her talk. "A famous Greek mathematician, Percy. And what about yours? I never thought our first kids would be twins."
He laughs, avoiding the question. "Geez, Annabeth! And people think I'm the one to put our relationship in the fast lane."
"Who puts," she corrects. "Not 'to put.'"
"Gods, I spent five years listening to you two flirt with each other. Let's go before I lose my mind." Grover says, but he's not good at pretending to be annoyed.
"Pining and flirting," Percy corrects, winking. Annabeth pulls him into a quick kiss, then paying for the three plushies. The six now pile back into Argus's car, somehow knowing exactly when they'll want to be picked up. But Percy doesn't relax, even once they've escaped the building. He's felt less nervous after a monster attack than right now. Willing his leg to stop bouncing up and down uncontrollably, he stares out the window the entire ride, holding the bear tight against his chest. As if, just maybe, if Percy never lets go of the bear that reminds him painfully of Jason, then Percy might not lose the son of Jupiter.
Eyes glittering, Percy puts on a good show for Chiron with Annabeth and Grover. Rambling about all of the options. The cute stuffed animals. The colorful clothes. The scents and voice boxes. The trio spends a while afterward playing around with the voices, recording silly messages. Until finally, finally, it's evening and Percy can be alone.
He looks at the bear, somewhere between numb and heartbroken. He didn't even know Jason for a full year.
What's worse is that the clothes that Percy grabbed for the bear is a purple Minnesota football shirt. Purple, like Camp Jupiter's uniforms for their legionnaires.
The lump in his throat only getting bigger, he's stricken by how much he needs this bear. Percy needs this blue bear with a purple shirt and a small manufacturing defect on its mouth.
Suddenly, Percy's crying.
Not just crying.
Sobbing.
Uncontrollable, full-body sobs. Jaw aching. Vision blurred. Lungs collapsing in on themselves like unstable caverns. Only interrupted by Percy's own lack of breath, he sobs for what feels like an eternity.
For Jason.
Somewhere inside of himself, Percy knew Hera hadn't taken Jason. He isn't asleep somewhere in a field any more than a child's dog was taken to a farm upstate by crossing a rainbow.
Jason's dead.
He's dead and gone and nothing Percy can do will ever bring him back. And it's Percy's fault. He refused to help Apollo. He forced Jason to take on the quest. Now Jason's dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.
Percy tries to laugh.
Percy tries to get angry.
Percy tries to insult himself.
Percy tries everything and yet he can't stop crying.
He wants to die. He wants to kill himself so he'll get to see Jason in Elysium, or Asphodel, or even the Fields of Punishment - Percy doesn't care so long as he gets to see Jason.
But if he killed himself, who else would there be for the gods to send on their quests except for Percy's friends? They'd die because of him, just like Jason did. He can't leave them to that.
But he wants to. Oh gods, he wants to die so badly that he's almost willing to kill his friends to do it. He misses Jason so much. The way he was always there exactly when someone needed him. How confident he was. How trusting.
A million memories flash through Percy's mind, as if to deepen the wound that's already at the bone.
When he and Jason fought in Kansas.
When Jason drank poison without a second thought because he trusted his friends.
When Jason saved Percy at the bottom of the ocean.
When Jason promised Kymopoleia representation of the minor gods in Camp Jupiter.
Even the smaller things, like how Jason and Percy jokingly called each other "bro." How Jason would only eat pizza if it had pineapples on it. How Jason always double-knotted his shoelaces. How he always stopped to help people in need, no matter what.
And then, how he made everyone feel safer. Jason was the first person Percy talked to about Tartarus. And when Apollo came back and said that Jason was dead, both camps held a funeral for him. Percy didn't go. He wouldn't - couldn't - believe that Jason was dead. The camp smelled like lightning and burnt fabric - Camp Half-Blood's burial shroud for him - for weeks. Percy thought he'd never get the smell out of his clothes. Now he'd give anything to have it back, just to feel closer to Jason.
Percy's sobs have dwindled into a quiet stream of tears, but he doesn't feel any better; He just doesn't have enough energy to cry any harder. His body aches with every beat of his heart. Somehow, he ends up on his bed, curled around the teddy bear like a little child.
Percy presses the small heart in the bear's chest, and closes his eyes as it beats. For a moment, he can lie to himself and pretend that it's Jason's heartbeat. That Jason's right there, lying next to him.
Right as the heartbeat begins to slow down, Percy whispers,
"Goodnight, Jason."