Chapter Text
Percy closed his eyes and rested his head against the car window as rain pattered against the glass, lulling him into a false sense of relaxation. On any other day, he would have fallen asleep—drooling, as Annabeth loved to point out—with only dreams of gods and monsters to disrupt his peace.
But those dreams could not hold a candle to the nightmare that he was living in now. Today, there was no peace for his dreams to disrupt and there was no Annabeth to distract him from reality. But even if she was here with him, no amount of hugs, whispers, or kisses could take his mind off the fact that his mother and Paul have been missing for the past three days. Nothing Annabeth, let anyone anybody else, had to say could convince him that whatever happened to them wasn’t his fault.
Percy took a deep breath in, the smell of new leather seats filling his nostrils, before he let it all out, calming his racing heart and shaky hands only slightly. His head swirled with possibilities as he agonized over what could have happened to his family and how he could have let this happen. With the car practically silent aside from the squeaking of the windshield wipers and the heavy rain thumping lightly against the car, it was easy for Percy to drown in the sea of his thoughts, blaming him for letting his own mother and step-father get hurt knowing that all they’ve done is protect and love him. They stuck by him through it all, aware that there was a whole world of terror that wanted Percy either dead or suffering, and Percy let them end up in the crosshairs. Annabeth and his friends told him that there was no guarantee it was something demigod-related, but nobody really believed that it was just an average mortal kidnapping. They were just trying to help him feel better. Either way, he should’ve done a better job at protecting his family from the pain he brought wherever he went.
Percy knew he was far from Tartarus despite how many times his mind liked to convince him otherwise. He couldn’t chalk these thoughts and feelings up to the River Cocytus. They weren’t delusions planted in his brain to make him believe he should have died alongside all the half-bloods that were sacrificed in both wars, convincing him that everything he’d been through to survive was pointless and that he didn’t deserve to live a second longer. This was his own head, not a river he could swim away from because he knew each wave of deprecating thoughts held a truth that he must confront.
Thunder rumbled angrily outside and he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat. Even though there was only one other person in the car—the quiet old British man whose name he already forgot—he pushed down the urge to cry, not wanting to suddenly bawl his eyes out in front of a stranger.
Grappling for any distraction from his racing mind, he diverted his attention to his (temporary) guardian: Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…orphan addict. With Annabeth’s laptop from Daedalus that miraculously resurfaced after the war with Gaea, the two of them did a little research on the man and found article after article discussing the countless children Wayne had adopted over the years, all suspiciously with jet-black hair.
“They kind of remind me of someone, don’t you think, Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth had joked.
At the time, Grover had joined in on their little research project and added with a snicker, “Yeah, one of them even has a white streak.”
Percy hit them both with a pillow, starting a pillow fight, but deep down, he was grateful for their teasing as they added a little light to his situation.
The car slowing to a stop shook Percy out of his thoughts. Blinking his eyes open, he saw the British butler—Alfred, he finally remembered—turning in the driver seat to face Percy and give him a small, but warm smile. “We have arrived, Master Perseus.”
Percy shifted in his seat to get a better look out the window. He opened his mouth to form a reply, “Just Percy is fi-”
The breath was suddenly knocked out of him when he managed to get a good look at the enormous mansion just a couple feet away, sprawling along bushes of lush greenery that go as far as Percy could see with grey walls seemingly rising so high it could practically touch Zeus’ toes. This was where he was staying? His jaw promptly dropped. If Annabeth were here, she’d be losing her mind at the gothic and castellated architecture she raved to him about on several occasions.
He once again met Alfred’s gaze and though the man’s face hardly twitched from his small smile, the butler’s eyes twinkled with amusement at Percy’s reaction.
“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Sir.”
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“Another one?” Jason asked, his incredulous voice loud enough in Dick’s earpiece to drown out the gunshots and yells on the other line. Dick would have scolded him for accepting his call during a fight if not for the fact that he was in one himself (and because was the one who initiated the call in the first place). And anyway, it wasn’t very often that his brother didn’t send him straight to voicemail after the first ring. “Why doesn’t he just open his own orphanage at this point?”
Dick flipped himself over one of the goons, grabbed the guy’s head, and slammed it down as he hit the ground. “I know.” He threw an escrima stick at another guy, bonking him into unconsciousness. “The kid’s name’s Percy Jackson. According to B, his mom and step-father recently went missing and he suspects it has something to do with the Court or the Al Ghul’s, which is weird ‘cause Percy has no record of living in Jersey, let alone Gotham.”
He cursed under his breath at the sight of another criminal charging towards him with a large steel pipe. Dick ducked out of the way when the man swung at him, quickly sending a couple punches to the guy’s open stomach before swinging a kick at his head, effectively knocking him out. “He’s a pure-blooded New Yorker.”
Three shots blasted on Jason’s end before he let out an amused huff. “Too easy.” Dick could hear the grin through his earpiece. “Don’t you think the manor’s getting a little crowded? And don’t tell me the kid’s got—”
“Black hair?” Dick landed a few more punches on the last goon, ensuring he would stay down, before picking up his previously thrown escrima stick, a tired, but satisfied grin curling his lips. Using the grappling hook inside the stick, he fired at a nice balcony’s railing and let the wire carry him up so he could rest on one of the chairs and catch his breath. “He’s got green eyes and—get this—a grey streak in his hair. Practically found your twin, Hood.”
Jason scoffed. “Guess that explains the Ra’s theory. What else do we know about him?”
“He was wanted for a bit when he was twelve after the first time his mother went missing, but it got a little out of hand when he allegedly beat an old lady with a stick on a bus,” Dick answered. “That was in New Jersey, but not close enough to get attention from the Court or Ra’s.”
There was a pause on the other line and Dick waited as Jason processed the information. “Interesting kid,” he finally said.
Dick snorted. “Yeah, you should see his interviews on the news. Oh! And not too long ago, the guy went AWOL for almost a year, so we think that might have some sort of connection to his parents’ disappearance.”
He glanced down at his watch, promptly jumping off the balcony when saw how late it was and waving goodbye to the stunned man staring at him through the glass doors behind him. Once he grabbed hold of the ledge on the roof across from him, Dick pulled himself up and began flipping from building to building towards the cave. “You joining us tonight, Hood?”
Though he tried to hide it, Dick couldn’t help the swell of hope in his chest at the thought of spending time with his little brother after so long. He couldn’t remember the last time all the bats were in the same room, and tonight, with the new kid piquing everyone’s curiosity, almost everyone was going to be there to welcome him into the family, even if the stay was only temporary. In most cases, the person missing was Jason and he was the only one who hadn’t confirmed his seat at the table for the evening.
The other line was silent for a couple seconds and Dick’s heart thumped loudly, both in anticipation of his answer and adrenaline from his nightly escapade. If there was anything that would draw Jason into a family dinner, it was a mystery that sounded straight out of a book, Jane Austen-esque or not.
The mystery that was Percy Jackson.
Jason was still a bat, after all, no matter how much distance was put between him and the family.
Jason let out an exasperated sigh and Dick knew he won this time. “Fine, but I am not staying for movie night this time. I can’t stand the way Tim goes on and on about the logistics of—”
Warmth bloomed in Dick’s heart as his brother began rambling about his grievances towards their family, jumping from Tim to Damian to Steph and even to Duke until eventually, to Dick himself. Despite it all, it didn’t matter what they were watching or how many times Jason grumbled, wishing he was out or at his own apartment instead. Dick knew that after the credits were rolling, Jason would soon end the night fast asleep in his old bedroom, snoring so loudly it carried through the halls.
“By the way,” Jason said, ending his rant about how annoying and unnecessary Dick’s movie commentary was, “my fight ended first, so you owe me a soda, Dickhead.”
Dick smiled, feeling a sense of liberty as wind rushed through his hair and pricked at his eyes beneath the domino mask after every leap. “If it keeps you alive, you got it, Little Wing.”
“Shut up.”