Chapter Text
Percy didn’t remember how long he had been running.
Time had stopped meaning anything somewhere between the dark corridors, the echoes of footsteps that weren’t his, and the constant, suffocating awareness that if he slowed down, even for a second, he would be caught again.
His leg dragged behind him.
He couldn’t feel it properly anymore. That was worse than the pain. The pain had been sharp at first, blinding, tearing through him when the hellhound’s teeth sank in. Now it was dull and wrong, like his body had decided it wasn’t worth trying to fix.
Every step sent a jolt up his spine anyway.
But he kept moving.
He had to.
He couldn’t go back.
He couldn’t-he couldn’t-
Percy stumbled, catching himself on a rock, his breath hitching as his hands shook violently. For a second, everything tilted, the world spinning too fast, too loud, and he squeezed his eyes shut, and immediately regretted it.
The hands.
He could still feel them.
Even now, even here, even free, he could still feel them like they were carved into his skin, like they had never really left.
Percy sucked in a broken breath and forced his eyes open again.
“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “No, no, no-”
He shoved himself upright before his thoughts could drag him under again. If he stopped, he would think. If he thought, he would remember.
He didn’t know what would happen if he did. So he limped, dragging himself forward through the shadows, through the cold, through whatever stretch of wilderness he had escaped into, guided only by one desperate, fragile thought:
Nico.
He didn’t know if Nico would help him, he didn’t know if Nico would even listen, he didn’t know if Nico still hated him.
But Percy didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Camp meant questions, camp meant fighting, camp meant Kronos and camp meant expectations.
But Nico…
Nico knew what it was like to be alone. Nico knew what it was like to be hurt. Nico knew what it was like to be angry at the world and still have to survive in it.
And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t look at Percy and see a hero.
Maybe he’d just see a person. So Percy kept moving.
---
By the time he found Nico, he was barely holding himself together.
The clearing came into view slowly, like a mirage through exhaustion. Percy almost missed it at first, his vision blurring, his head pounding, his body screaming at him to stop, to lie down, to just rest, but then he saw movement.
A boy with dark hair, pale skin, shadows clinging to him like they belonged there.
Nico.
Relief hit so hard it almost knocked Percy to his knees.
He made it a few more steps before his leg gave out completely.
Percy hit the ground hard, the impact rattling through him, but he barely felt it. His focus locked onto Nico, who had turned sharply at the sound, his expression already shifting into irritation before recognition even fully set in.
“Oh, great,” Nico said flatly, crossing his arms. “You again.”
Percy tried to speak, but nothing came out. His throat felt raw, like he hadn’t used it properly in days. Maybe he hadn’t.
Nico frowned slightly, his annoyance flickering into something else, confusion maybe, when Percy didn’t immediately snap back with something sarcastic.
“Well?” Nico said. “What do you want?”
Percy swallowed, forcing his voice to work.
“I-” It cracked and he winced. “I need-”
His words tangled, slipping away from him like everything else had.
Nico’s eyes narrowed. “If this is about Bianca-”
“It’s not.”
That came out sharper than Percy meant it to. Desperate and frantic.
Nico went still.
Percy dragged in a breath, his hands curling into the dirt as he fought to stay upright, to stay conscious, to stay present.
“I can’t-” His voice shook. “I can’t do it.”
Nico blinked. “Can’t do what?”
Percy looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a second he saw it, the anger, the distance, the walls Nico had built between them since that day, since the truth Percy had been the one to deliver.
Nico should hate him.
He did hate him.
Didn’t he?
“I can’t fight him,” Percy said, the words finally breaking free, ugly and raw. “I can’t face him. I can’t-I can’t go back there, I can’t-”
His breathing picked up, panic clawing up his throat again, and he squeezed his eyes shut, but he forced them open again, gasping.
Nico was staring at him now.
Not annoyed, not angry, staring.
Percy swallowed hard. “I know,” he said quickly, before Nico could speak, before he could reject him, before everything fell apart. “I know you hate me. I know you have every reason to, I just- please, I don’t- there’s no one else-”
“Percy.”
He flinched.
Nico’s voice wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t cold.
It was confused.
And something else Percy didn’t recognize.
“You’re bleeding,” Nico said.
Percy blinked.
“Oh,” he said faintly, glancing down at his leg like he’d forgotten it existed. The fabric was torn, soaked dark, the wound beneath it… wrong. Too deep. Too jagged. “Yeah.”
“How did that happen?”
Percy’s breath hitched.
For a second, everything went quiet.
Too quiet.
He could feel it again.
“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just walked a lot.”
That wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the truth.
Nico didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, his gaze flicked back to Percy’s face, taking in the shaking hands, the hollow eyes, the way Percy couldn’t seem to stay still even sitting down.
Something shifted, subtle, but real.
“…What do you need?” Nico asked.
Percy’s chest tightened.
“You,” he said, before he could stop himself.
The word hung in the air between them.
Nico’s expression changed again, something flickering behind his eyes, surprise, maybe, or something softer, quickly buried.
“I-” Percy swallowed. “I know your dad wants-” His voice faltered. “He wants you to be the prophecy child instead.”
Nico stiffened.
“How do you-”
“I just know,” Percy said quickly. “And I-please-let him. Let it be you.”
Nico stared at him like he’d just said something insane.
“You’re asking me to take your place,” he said slowly.
Percy nodded, his fingers digging into the dirt.
“I can’t do it,” he whispered. “I can’t face him again.”
The words felt too small for what they meant. Too weak. Too empty.
But they were all Percy could manage.
Silence stretched between them and Percy braced himself, for rejection, for anger. For Nico to turn away, to say good, to say you deserve it, to say why should I help you?
He deserved that, he did.
But instead-
“…Okay,” Nico said.
Percy blinked.
“What?”
“I said okay,” Nico repeated, like it was obvious. “I’ll help you.”
Percy stared at him.
That didn’t make sense.
“You-” His voice shook. “You’re not-”
“Not what?” Nico snapped, defensive now, like Percy had insulted him. “Not going to help you? Not going to take the prophecy? Not going to drag you to my dad like he originally planned?”
Percy flinched and Nico stopped.
For a second, they just looked at each other.
Then Nico sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“…You look terrible,” he muttered.
Percy let out a weak, shaky laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get that a lot.”
Nico rolled his eyes, but it lacked its usual bite.
“Come on,” he said, stepping forward and offering a hand. “If you’re going to collapse, do it somewhere less pathetic.”
Percy hesitated and Nico noticed.
His expression softened, just a little.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, quieter now.
Something in Percy’s chest cracked. And slowly, carefully, he reached out and took Nico’s hand. It was warm, steady and safe.
And Percy didn’t understand.
Didn’t understand how Nico wasn’t angry, how he wasn’t pushing him away, how he wasn’t looking at him like he was broken or useless or weak.
Didn’t understand how, after everything, Nico still chose to help him.
As Nico pulled him to his feet, steadying him when he swayed, Percy’s thoughts spiraled quietly, desperately:
Why don’t you hate me?
Why aren’t you angry?
Why are you being kind?
He didn’t ask. He was too afraid of the answer.
Instead, he leaned on Nico more than he meant to, his leg refusing to cooperate, his body finally giving in to exhaustion now that it had something to hold onto.
Nico didn’t pull away.
And that, more than anything else, was what finally made Percy believe he might actually be safe.