Flowers For Apollo

by Soleil_in_Greene

Summary:

As far as Lester Papadopoulos was concerned, he was seventeen years old and lived at home with his elderly mother just outside of Tampa. He had a(n older? younger? twin?) sister who visited regularly and a baby sister(?) in California who called him her dummy and would help out with his mother's garden when she visited and he was teaching piano to. He also had a myriad of cousins who went to a camp up north he wrote constantly.

He didn't know what he wanted to do with the life stretching in front of him.

-----

The God Apollo has a bad habit of not telling people when something is wrong. It doesn't help he doesn't quite remember until it's too late.

It's not his fault.

Chapter 1: Epilogue and Prologue

Summary:

Lester's (younger? twin?) sister finds his diary.

Apollo makes a promise to Meg.

As far as Lester Papadopoulos was concerned, he was seventeen years old and lived at home with his elderly mother just outside of Tampa. He had a(n older? younger? twin?) sister who visited regularly and a baby sister(?) in California who called him her dummy and would help out with his mother's garden when she visited and he was teaching piano to. He also had a myriad of cousins who went to a camp up north he wrote constantly. They weren't allowed smartphones at the camp -- something about reception -- but they had a landline he called regularly and an ancient computer he would send emails to.

He liked music and poetry and was thinking about going to medical school. Maybe. He did pretty decently at school even if he could lose track of time easily. His mother always told him he could do whatever he'd like and she'd do everything in her power to see him pursue it.

He had the best mom.

The truth was Lester Papadopoulos wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life stretched out in front of him. Something was missing he couldn't quite reach without becoming distracted, some great yawning thing tugging insistently at his mind that disappeared the second he walked through a door.

Sometimes, because Lester Papadopoulos was still, in fact, a teenager, he thought that void could be filled by one of the many pretty boys or girls at his school. 

But how could he even ask anyone out with his hair always frizzing and a new pimple every day and the bit of flab around his waist that wouldn't go away?

(He thinks, sometimes, he used to be in much better shape and his hair was actually tameable and his jaw stronger, but the smile is the same. Puberty, he guesses, when this unsettled feeling washes over him.)

What Lester Papadopoulos did know was his sister could be downright annoying when she visited.

"Artemis, give it back!"

His sister stood on his bed, holding a book with a cover of rainbow unicorns above him. She jumped in time to keep it out of his reach, laughing brightly.

"A love poem? At your age?"

He loved it when Artemis visited. She came by almost weekly and would sometimes bring one of her many (pretty) friends along. Like Bri! Even if Bri liked to prank him something fierce.

But he hated it whenever Artemis found his diary. At least Meg had the decency not to rifle through his things. Usually.

Well, Meg normally just made a face at the contents and tossed it over her shoulder calling him lame, but it was better than outright laughter.

Maybe he shouldn't have just left it out on his desk. Their mother never snooped so he never felt the need to hide anything from her.

"A flower floating on the wine red sea?!" 

He gave up trying to reach for the diary and grabbed her by the legs. Artemis let out a sound she would forever deny was in the vicinity of a squawk as he lifted her up.

"Put me down!"

"Give me back my diary!" he demanded.

"I said put me down!" She beat his shoulder with the book.

Artemis was kind of heavy for not being very tall, but Lester learned long ago to never actually tell a girl that. He turned, focused entirely on walking out of his bedroom, down the hall, and through the living room with his screaming sister over his shoulder.

Artemis knew what was going to come as he crossed the living room to the sliding glass door.

"Apollo, don't you dare!"

"Just try and stop me!"

He shifted his hold and Artemis toppled over his shoulder. Her fists on his back would likely leave bruises.

"You'll ruin your diary!"

"I should have set it to self destruct anyway!"

He was pretty sure she dropped it already and if she hadn't… well, Meg was going to visit soon. They bought their stationary from the same aisle. Maybe he could get some of those glitter gel pens while he was at it.

He walked out the back door towards the pool. Their mother looked up from her reading at one of the lounge chairs.

"You'll ruin your clothes!"

"Mom will get me new ones!"

"You'll ruin your hair!"

"My hair's always terrible!"

They were at the edge of the pool. Artemis's pounding on his back was getting painful. He could hear their mother trying not to laugh as he bent his knees in preparation.

"Apollo, no!"

"Lester, yes!" he cried as he jumped, sending them both tumbling into the water.

---

"Sunday."

Apollo turned from the sunset to look at Meg. 

"What?"

She leaned towards him, eyes flashing behind her cat-eyed glasses.

"Sunday is your day so you're gonna give me piano lessons on Sundays. Don't forget."

She said it like she could still order him to slap himself or make him turn off the road to go to a tourist trap instead of New York.

(Not that he hadn't minded making a side trip to Cawker Kansas and maaaaaybe they had procrastinated quite a bit heading back from Oakland Hills to Long Island.

Just a little.)

But he found he would still obey her, regardless. She wanted her piano lessons to be on Sundays? He had a bad habit of losing track of time. Perhaps a regular routine like that would help. If his father complained he could claim it was part of her requested reward besides the unicorn.

He snorted.

"Sunday isn't my day. That's not how it wor--"

"Sun. Day."

Meg poked him in the chest on each syllable. He tried to ignore the sting of how it didn't really hurt anymore.

"It literally has Sun in it. So it's your day. You're gonna be here teaching me piano and helping us with the garden and stuff. Everything else can wait except maybe the Sun Chariot stuff. Got it?"

He couldn't help but chuckle as he squeezed her hand.

"Fine then, Sunday. I'll clear my schedule. I'll also bring you the best piano you ever saw."

Meg gave him a smug smile he decided he hadn't seen in the mirror a hundred times.

"You forget a lot so you gotta make an extra effort to remember or I'll send Pumpkin after you."

"Who's Pumpkin?"

She pointed at the unicorn grazing down below with her free hand. Ah, that Pumpkin. Young Cassius was standing a respectable distance away for an eight year old. His eyes were wide with awe.

"Ah."

He had no doubt she could pull it off in some way or another. He half suspected she'd manage to sic the unicorn on the Sun Palace if he ever missed a Sunday with her.

"I'll be back on Sunday then," he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

As the sun dipped below the horizon he was back in the Sun Chariot as he came to a stop in front of the stables. He could feel the beginning of a headache in the back of his mind as he pulled himself together.

Apollo rubbed his temples as he stepped down from it. The sets of memories from talking to everyone at once neatly slotting into place. He didn't remember it being so uncomfortable before, but it'd been a year and he had only been back for a little over a day. One set of linear memories had been so much easier to keep track of if a little more grating.

No matter! He'd get used to it again. He had a promise to his brother to keep and he needed to visit his mother. If Artemis had been worried enough to split herself then his poor mother must have been even worse off.

But first, his horses needed to be properly fed and watered and brushed. He would need to see about getting new help, if just for them. It had only been a day and "goddy" or not cleaning with a wave of your hand was not the same as organizing the mess of packages and orders and whatever else had come through the mail and sitting down to find out the actual contents. Not to mention putting out ads and interviewing and hiring --

Apollo could manage for himself. He just needed to lay down. Gods didn't need to sleep in the way mortals did but they could get exhausted, could get tired. Hephaestus often needed rest much to the Forge Master's own annoyance.

-- but he still had almost a year's worth of mail to sort through and he should at least call his mother and he needed to hire stable hands and he needed to talk to Hermes and --

He could divide himself the next day to handle it. He could get his mother gifts and compose poetry for her since he missed Mother's Day this year.

(He should have done that today.)

Apollo needed sleep, rest, even if he'd already slept for two weeks there was a difference between a healing sleep and true rest. When the sun rose over the East Coast in a handful of hours he needed to be ready to take the Sun Chariot out again.

He flopped onto his bed. Even at his full glory it had been at least three times the necessary size with satin sheets and numerous pillows and the stuffed red cow his mother had given him millenia ago. 

Yeah, rest sounded good. He was the God of Healing and he'd been through a lot in the last three weeks, to say nothing of the last year. His head hurt, his throat ached from all the ugly weeping of the day, and his heart felt ready to cave in from the rawness of it all. He usually put bed rest as his first choice of treatment for non-lethal ailments, even if he spent the last two of them sleeping. He just needed to hug his cow to his chest and close his eyes and rest for a bit.

He did not visit his mother the next day.

Notes:

* The title is a reference to Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes.

* Further tags and warnings to be added as I write and nail down the specifics of what to warn and tag for.

* Google "Lisa Frank unicorns" for the cover of Lesterpollo's diary.

Chapter 2: Pancakes and Piano lessons

Summary:

Lester and Diana make their mother breakfast in bed.

Apollo gives Meg her first piano lesson.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when Lester marched into the kitchen.

"Let's make breakfast for Mom."

His hand was firmly around Diana's wrist as he tugged his sister along behind him.

(It's weird she's letting him pull her along. Diana is as immovable as a mountain, as steady as the tides, as reliable as the phases of the moon. She never let anyone make her do something she didn't want to do.

Huh.)

"With what? You're a terrible cook and you can barely use the microwave!"

"Aunt Hestia taught me how to make pancakes the other day! And we can serve it with ambrosia salad! I can't burn fruit and syrup!"

Lester dropped her wrist as they passed the island and headed to the pantry to pull out flour and sugar. Diana rolled her eyes and went to pull out the bowls and spatulas.

The kitchen was a cozy affair just off the living room. An army of paper mache critters from Lester's cousins were lined up on the window sill and suncatchers made from everything from coffee filters and construction paper to glass and beads hung in the windows. A few drawings framed with popsicle sticks from Lester's youngest cousins were on the fridge. Their mother's various shopping lists and sales circulars were stacked high on the counter next to her forgotten mug of hot chocolate from the previous night.

Lester pulled the bottle of syrup from the fridge. Diana looked up in alarm as she set the bowl on the island.

"But your allergy -- "

"I'll wear gloves," Lester said brightly, pulling out some oranges as well. None of that canned stuff for their mother! Only fresh oranges and cherries and pineapple! Especially when they were oranges and cherries Meg had brought over the previous week.

"It'll be fine! Start pitting the cherries while I get the pancake batter together."

Diana rolled her eyes and did as directed, but insisted SHE handle the syrup. The taste always reminded Lester a bit of his mother's own cooking from when he and Artemis were small before the itching and burning started. Their mother insisted he not push his luck with it.

Lester measured out the sugar and flour, then carefully measured the milk. Diana used her knife to pit the cherries in quick succession then moved on to peeling the oranges. Her brow was furrowed as she cut away the rind.

"Are you happy here, Apollo?"

Lester looked up from pouring the milk.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's… simple. Far simpler than I thought you'd really like. You know… if you were good to my girls, I wouldn't mind you coming along with us for a while."

"You guys travel all over the country and I still get lost at school. There's no way I'd be able to keep up."

"Well, yes, but it'd be nice to have you for a while."

Lester poured the milk into the dry ingredients and stared at her like she grew a second head.

"I thought the whole point of your roaming Mad Max girl gang was 'no guys allowed'?"

"You're my brother and they'd all be able to beat you up if you tried something. Maybe you could come camping with us for a weekend or so. You said you have Spring Break soon?"

"Well, yeah, and Mom would probably like the house to herself for a while."

"And you could probably use a change of pace."

He hesitated, something aching in his chest. It wasn't so much the need for a change, but the idea of spending time with his sister, of her inviting him along that tugged at him, leaving him raw.

(When was the last time Diana invited him anywhere just to spend time with him?)

"You promise you'll find me if I get lost in the woods?"

Diana took a spatula, dipped it in the whipped cream, and flicked it at him. Lester did not shriek even if he clapped a hand over his mouth and cast a glance towards the door where their mother was sleeping.

"What was that for?!" he hissed once he was sure his definitely-not-a-shriek had not awoken their mother.

"I'm a Hunter, Apollo, and your sister. I'll always find you. You should know that."

He retaliated by scooping up a handful of flour and flinging it into Diana's face.

She spluttered and coughed, silver eyes going wide. The sight made Lester snicker. He didn't catch his sister off guard too often!

Diana brought her spatula up like it was a wand and she was a sorceress ready to curse him.

Somehow, they managed to make the pancakes and ambrosia salad. It sat on a wooden tray with a glass of orange juice that shimmered as Diana mixed some of the syrup into it.

The twins were covered from head to toe in batter and cool whip. Lester had a feeling he'd be sticky with pineapple juice for the next week, but he couldn't stop smiling. Even Diana couldn't keep from giggling.

"Mom is gonna be so mad about the mess," Lester whispered as he pulled on the promised gloves. There was pancake batter on the ceiling and a distinct sticky feeling under his bare feet as he walked through the kitchen.

Mopping it all up was going to be terrible.

He couldn't stop smiling.

"I'll clean it up. I started it," Diana whispered as she carefully poured the golden syrup across the pancakes.

Lester, on a whim, picked up a vase with the tissue paper flowers his cousin Austin made and put it on the breakfast tray.

"You don't need to do it by yourself. We both made the mess."

"It's not even a big mess."

"What do you mean, it's…."

There weren't splatters on the ceiling and the popsicle stick frame around a picture of Meg with an arm around Artemis and Lester both from last Halloween wasn't covered in flour. Even the pan he'd actually cook the pancakes in wasn't as bad as he had thought. All that really needed to be done was the counters wiped down and the dishes put away. The floor wasn't the least bit tacky with pineapple juice.

"Huh… I guess the mess isn't so bad?"

"Mother will be waking up soon. Bring her breakfast while it's still warm. I'll join you in just a moment."

"And we'll figure out that camping trip?"

Diana smiled and reached out to squeeze his arm.

"I'll tell Britomartis she can't prank you."

---

"But really, you can pick any note as the root of the scale." 

Apollo demonstrated as he reached across the keys and started at an A sharp before working his way up. Meg sat on the bench beside him, her legs swinging as she desperately tried to concentrate on the words of his lecture.

"The only real difference between making that scale major or minor is the final leading note. For a major you just go up like usual, for minor you bring that final note up another half an octave."

He demonstrated each note for Meg, who nodded, then proceeded to butcher the glorious scale he'd started for her. She was twitchy and her eyes kept wandering and she shook herself to force herself to pay attention.

Not that he could fault her. She was a demigod and sitting still was all but impossible for all but the children of Hypnos. At first Apollo had thought she was in disbelief this was actually happening, much as he was -- that after six insane months they were finally here having the long-promised piano lessons while Lu helped her elder siblings make lunch and the younger played outside. It made something raw in his chest ache. 

But Meg had spent the majority of her life forced into being unnaturally still until they had the chance to meet. Apollo wasn't about to scold her for it.

Not when he could be the same way.

"Stand up," he said. She looked at him in alarm.

"What?"

"Just trust me. Stand up." Meg did so. Apollo stood and kicked the bench so it tipped back onto the floor.

"I always found doing it that way kind of stuffy," he said with a small smile, "Sometimes you just need to move and feel yourself, you know?"

With that he began to play a much more lively tune than simple repetitive scales.

"Just play what feels right. You're not going to learn if you come to dread it and you're not going to like it if you don't take the time to just play with it. So what if it doesn't sound good? You have a whole lifetime to work on being good. The tragedy will be in if you stop wanting to play."

Meg pounded her fists onto the keyboard. The discordant sound was terrible and would have no doubt made the ears of many who heard it bleed, but she was laughing. Apollo would do anything to hear that laughter from her and he couldn't help but smile.

If he worried about perfection he'd never be able to make a good haiku. You had to keep creating if you wanted to get to a place you could make something good and then later on great. It was how Apollo was able to pull songs from nothing whenever he wanted to.

He kept a steady rhythm for Meg to work off of, a joyful jazzy number. Nothing specific, but there was a reason the electronic keyboards would have base melodies to work against. In this case Meg's work was discordant pounding, but she had the beginnings of a sense of rhythm.

"That's it! Now try to bring it up to make a scale. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven."

Meg pounded the keys in succession but if one listened close it was in the same approximation as a scale. Good. Apollo had known when Meg wanted something she could take instruction well.

"And minor: one-two-three-four-five-six-half!"

Meg did as she was told, bouncing on the balls of her feet in rhythm with Apollo's beat.

"That's it! Major: one-two-three-four-five-six-seven!"

Meg laughed brightly. Good. Good. Now to mix it up a bit:

"Two-three-seven-five-two."

It took Meg a second, but she pounded out the five notes across the keyboard.

"One-two-three-four-seven-six-four."

"Not fair!" she laughed as she pounded across the keyboard. It was nowhere near the scale she'd originally made, but that wasn't the point.

"Four-five-seven-six-five."

The point was to make these lessons a source of joy. Meg deserved all the happiness in the world for helping him, for surviving, for simply being her, bejeweled glasses and all.

"Two-three-seven-five-two."

Her lips were pouting with determination as she punched the requested keys.

"That's it! You're doing great: One-two-three-four-seven-six-four."

Her keys were a bit slower. Was she already getting tired? Did he take this lesson in the wrong direction?

"Four-five-seven-six-five."

Meg slammed her hands down on the keys before dropping her head onto them, letting out a loud and discordant note from the piano. Apollo slowed his melody to something calmer.

"Meg, you were doing so well!"

She turned her head to glare up at him.

"You were making me play out haiku!"

"What? No I wasn't!"

Yes, he was.

"Five-seven-five?"

"It's a perfectly good rhythm scheme! And you were having fun playing it."

"You complained about that arrow talking in Shakespearan iambic whatchamacallitmeter all the time. Meanwhile I had to deal with you reciting haiku between here and New York!"

He furrowed his brow. That sounded… odd. A talking arrow? What talking arrow?

"What arrow?"

"The arrow of Dodona, remember? It would randomly chatter nonsense at you all the time."

Apollo stared down at her in confusion. Talking arrow. Talking arrow. Something tickled at the back of his mind but what was it.

He stopped playing as he rolled it over in his mind. Distantly he could feel himself tugging on the reins of the Sun Chariot as he maneuvered it around a stray dragon.

"Are you okay…?"

"I just… I feel like I'm forgetting something important."

Meg reached up for his arm when it clicked.

"...Mom!"

"What?"

It was Apollo's turn to drop his head on the piano keys. He pounded a fist against them, letting out his own discordant notes.

"I was supposed to go see her the other day and I forgot. How could I forget?"

"Uh, Lester? I think if it was that important your mother would have come to you."

Ugh. How does he explain this? His family situation was far less complicated than most demigods' were but it was still a mess. He was just happy his father hadn't summoned him for more than the regularly scheduled Council meetings.

"It's not that easy. My father is married, you see."

"Okay… what does that have to do with you?"

"I live on Olympus and so does my father."

"So…?"

Apollo turned his head to look at Meg. She was way too young to be hearing about his godly family drama, even if about eighty percent of it was still gossiped about and twisted around by mortals. But this was his mother. She was as precious to him as Artemis and the girl before him. He wouldn't let anyone think his mother didn't care.

"My stepmother -- my father's wife -- she… she agreed to leave my mother be if she stayed away from Olympus. So the only way my sister and I can really see her is if we go to her. She can't even contact us directly if we're on Olympus."

He stood up straight, clapping his hands together.

"She'd love you!"

Meg startled back.

"What?"

Golden eyes shined down on her.

"Meg, would you like to meet my mother?"

Meg responded by punching him in the arm. He definitely did not yelp.

Notes:

*Ambrosia salad is a real thing. Confused the heck out of me as a child and I started learning about Greek mythology.

*The piano lesson was surprisingly hard to write even though the goal was a tone of "we actually made it and are having the long-promised piano lessons." It's not exactly accurate but it's how I remember scales being explained to me when I was younger.

*Why no, I did not write the first draft of the pancake scene while making breakfast. Whatever are you thinking?

Chapter 3: Rejection and Reunion

Summary:

Lester asks his mother about going camping.

Apollo introduces Meg to his mother.

Diana had left to meet up with her friends after breakfast and Lester was sprawled on the couch scrolling through his social media. The swish of his mother’s scissors nearby gave a nice background beat he couldn’t help but hum a nonsense tune to. Their mother had been delighted by the breakfast after thoroughly inspecting Lester's gloved hands for signs of his allergy flaring up.

The offer from this morning still hung in the back of his mind.

Camping.

With Diana.

Time.

With Diana.

A change of pace.

With Diana.

His sister was right in a way: life was a little too simple, a little too quiet. It was a good life, a nice life. Lester had no idea what to actually do with that life, but it wasn’t like he was going hungry or cold or mistreated in any way even if he would whine and complain about the chores his mother gave him or his homework or his latest crush not really noticing him. It was just… a life. The same sort of things day in and day out broken up by visits and letters and gifts and phone calls with his siblings and extended family.

The most exciting thing that had happened was going to the planetarium on a field trip. He was pretty sure he annoyed Meg during their weekly phone call-slash-piano lesson by gushing about it.

He snuck a peek at his mother busying herself with clipping coupons in her rocking chair. His eyes traced the long golden plait of her hair almost touching the floor. It wasn’t like they were short on money, but his mother had never been one to pass up a good bargain and he was a teenage boy. What was that saying about teenagers eating one out of house and home? Especially when his mother was always so insistent he eat often and well?

His mother rarely went out. Every visit with Artemis or Meg she was there in the background, silver eyes drinking them in even when he wasn’t in the same room. Lester didn’t mind the idea of his mother always being just in the background and he got his privacy in his own room.

Yet some part of him wanted to be able to go a few days without her watching him. Lester loved and adored her, he did, but maybe some time apart would be good? Maybe she was tired of keeping him near her?

(He’d felt swirling silver eyes on him even while at the planetarium as he laughed with his then-crush about the Artemis missions.)

Lester looked up from his phone, feet kicking in the air behind him. He could already feel the tension building in the back of his head. He had a feeling he knew how this would go.

“Hey, Mom? Diana brought up something I wanted to ask about.”

“Oh?”  His mother looked up from her coupons. “What is it, Phoebus? Is everything okay with her and the Hunters?”

“Yeah. They’re fine. It’s just…” He hesitated for a moment. It’s not like anything bad would happen from asking. He set his phone down on the cushion. The moon charm dangling from the case gleamed like the challenge in Diana’s eye.

“She asked me… And I’d like to…”

Just spit it out, he told himself. What was the worst that could happen?

“She mentioned spending Spring Break with them, at least a weekend or something to go camping together.”

Leto went back to clipping her coupons.

“Absolutely not.”

Lester felt his heart tighten in his chest. He could almost hear the blood rushing in his ears and failed not to whine as he continued.

“But, Mooom--Diana and Bri and Reyna and Thalia will be there. It’s not like I’ll try anything with them. Diana said it herself: they can all kick my ass and I’d deserve it!”

Leto sighed and set her scissors down. Swirling silver eyes turned to him and Lester was compelled to sit up on his knees.

“I said no, Phoebus. You wouldn’t be safe with them traveling all the time.”

“It’d only be for a few days so they wouldn’t even be moving around -- and it’d be over Spring Break so I wouldn’t miss school! Diana said she’d look out for me. I’d be staying with her in her tent.”

“Artemis wants you to be happy, which I commend her for, but she has those girls to look after. She can’t look after you as well at your age. What about when she’s working? Do you expect her to spread her attention so thin or have the Hunters look after you while she’s busy? Stay here, at home, where you’re safe. Artemis will worry less that way.”

He leaned on the arm of the couch, fingers curling into the plush fabric.

“But it’d be fun! Diana invited me herself! You’d get the house to yourself for a while!”

Leto sighed and set her coupons into the wicker basket beside her rocking chair.

“I’ll have to talk to her. I went a long time with an empty house already. It’s nicer having you around.”

If camping with Diana was too dangerous, then maybe he could convince her of an alternative? His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned further towards her, dangerously close to toppling over the armrest. This was something he’d been quietly hoping he could ask for some time.

“I could visit my cousins!”

That got his mother to fully face him.

“What?”

“They go to that camp up north for kids with ADHD. It’d be safer and Diana wouldn’t have to worry about me if we hung out there for the week. Please? I’d like to see them.”

“I said no. You’re staying here.”

“But Mom -- “

"Listen to me." 

His mother placed a large hand over each cheek, fingers curling into his hair. His entire body went still as he was pulled towards Her. It didn’t even occur to him to attempt fighting Her hold on him. This was His Mother: the Being Who Created Him, Giver of Life, Bringer of Tears. Every tense muscle loosened, every racing thought quieted, every protest died on his tongue, his frantic pulse slowed under Her Gaze as She addressed him.

“I’m not risking losing you again, Phoebus. This is your home and you are safe here with me. If you're lonely I’ll talk to Artemis about bringing the Hunters for a pool party instead. You are not going camping or to Camp. Have I made myself clear?”

He nodded. His Mother was right.

She gave him a warm smile and eased him back so he was sitting on his heels. With a gentle pat of his cheek she got up from her chair to sit next to him on the couch.

“How about we watch a movie? I think your cousins will be sending you more gifts soon and maybe Hermes would be willing to stay for lunch?”

Lester sighed. He didn’t like upsetting his mother and he did want to see Hermes.

“Action or comedy?”

“Phoebus, I’m not your sister or Meg: we can watch a romcom.”

His mother already had the remote and was putting on Tristan McLean’s last film. Lester could feel himself flushing at the sight of his favorite movie star on screen. He had several posters of the actor hanging in his room. It was such a shame he'd retired from acting a few years ago.

Hermes could not stay for lunch, but Lester’s cousins had sent him more flowers made from tissue and pipe cleaners.

---

In Apollo’s opinion, his mother was the only person in the world who could pull off ugly sobbing and look absolutely beautiful doing it. 

Apollo would also readily admit he was extremely biased in this case, second only to Artemis.

It didn’t help that she had lifted him off his feet the second he touched down in the Sun Chariot with Meg at his side. Even if he’d been in his preferred form that screamed beaches and Baywatch as opposed to Lester's frizz and flab, she would have picked him up and spun him around while sobbing and pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead. Artemis absolutely hated it, but Apollo got his casual affection from his mother.

Meg lingered back by the Chariot, a hand holding onto the edge ready to haul herself up and drive off by herself if she had to. He’d given her a crash course in driving it on the way since she’d insisted on the horses instead of a car.

“I’m sorry, Mom! I’m sorry! I meant to come by sooner, honest!” Apollo cried as Leto pulled him back to her and sobbed into his shoulder. Clouds rolled overhead and he could smell the chlorine from the pool outback.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” Leto snapped as she held him out, swirling silver eyes narrowed. Her fingers dug into his arms so hard Apollo knew he’d have bruised if he were mortal.

He had missed her so much.

“How could you let that awful little boy talk you into such things? You know you should keep your head down when it comes to your father!”

“I’m sorry! I just… He made promises and the kid seemed lonely. I-I didn’t realize he’d -- “

His mother gently set him back on his feet. Large hands rested on either side of his face and he leaned into them, his hands coming up to gently hold onto her wrists as he looked up into swirling silver eyes.

“You’re too good, Phoebus, too kind. You need to be more careful. It’s how you keep getting yourself hurt and it worries me so.”

Something in his chest caved in. How could his mother call him good and kind? After all he’d done? After all the death that followed him? For the first time in his life he averted his eyes from his mother’s concerned gaze.

How could she still love him after everything he’d done?

“You didn’t even think to write me this time. I know there were issues with IMs, but I have an actual mortal address. You could have written and sent it through the mortals’ mail system! Even a postcard to let me know you were all right would have been nice! I shouldn’t have had to hear about what was going on with you from Artemis or your father. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard you stabbed yourself? That you crashed a car? That you had to face Python again ?! That you were recovering on Olympus?”

He’d barely begun living the first time he faced Python. They both remembered the screams whenever he attempted to sleep afterward. Apollo could almost feel himself falling falling falling again, dangling over the precipice with someone laughing in his ear at his mother’s words.

(Who was laughing in his ear? It couldn’t have been Python. Python was already gone.)

His mother was still speaking. He forced himself to pay attention.

“...some girl who had been a pawn of Nero had been your Master the whole time! I thought you would have gone to that Perseus Jackson boy! You were near Olympus! He wouldn’t have made you do anything you didn’t want to do. What if that awful Commodus boy had found you first?”

He flinched at the reminder of Commodus. While correct in her assessment of this particular one, his mother had very rarely approved of any of his many lovers. His first real argument with her had in fact been over Hyacinthus.

He gently squeezed her wrists.

“Mom, I tried to, but Meg got there first and she turned out better than I could’ve hoped for -- better than Percy even! Besides, Percy’s own mother probably wouldn’t have let him be my master anyway because -- “

“You’re just lucky that girl turned out to be a good girl! Artemis had nothing but the highest praises for her and -- ”

“That girl is standing right here!”

Leto looked over Apollo’s head to where Meg stood. She gently patted Apollo on the cheek before approaching her.

Disheveled hair that dragged on the ground was suddenly in a neat plait down her back as she walked. The bags under her swirling silver eyes lightened and the lines on her face smoothed out as she knelt before the girl to take in the sequined cat-eyed glasses, the short dark hair, the bright yellow shirt and pastel blue leggings with dirt on the knees, and the red sneakers.

Meg crossed her arms and lifted her chin to look up into those swirling silver eyes, not daring to look away from her dummy’s mother. She’d heard him gush enough over the last few months she knew this woman wouldn’t dare hurt her.

“...you were his Master?”

“Yeah. I’m Meg. You’re his mom?”

Leto gave Meg a soft smile and enveloped the girl into a hug. Meg went stiff for a long moment, hands tightening on the woman’s shawl. It felt like being five years old again in Aeithales with a warm voice whispering in her ear. It felt like being quieted in Lu’s arms after a long dinner with Nero and her siblings. It felt like Apollo pulling her in and kissing her hair and telling her she really doesn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

“Thank you for looking after my Phoebus,” Leto whispered in the girl’s ear, “Thank you for being kind to him and reigning him in when he needed it. I know he can be a handful and… and I wouldn’t trust my Phoebus to just anyone.”

“Mom! I can hear you!”

She laughed brightly at that and squeezed Meg tighter. The girl finally relaxed, hands reaching up to wrap around the woman’s shoulders as she turned towards her son.

“Tell me it’s not true! Now you get inside and pull out the dishes. Your Meg is having dinner with us.”

Apollo clapped his hands together and cocked his head to the side in a question.

“So you like her?”

“Absolutely. She’s welcome over anytime. I’ll keep the guest room in order for her.”

“You can stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

Meg groused, pulling herself away from Leto with a huff. The tension from before was gone.

Leto got to her feet and rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“I’ll show you around while Phoebus sets the table and gets dinner ready.”

“Mooom!”

Notes:

*Leto joins the fray!

*I also had plenty of free time this weekend to write! 8D

Chapter 4: Calculus and crushes

Summary:

Lester does homework.

Apollo gives Meg dating advice.

It was Saturday, which meant Lester called his cousins like clockwork. He knew it might take a few tries because the only real phone on the other end was a landline and it was hit or miss if Mr. D or Mr. Brunner or one of the counselors would be nearby to answer. Lester bounced on the balls of his feet, humming a quiet tune as it rang and rang and rang…

No one picked up.

He could feel the ache stirring in his chest.

"Phoebus, come have breakfast."

"Okay…"

 

---

 

"You've reached Charles Brunner at Camp Half-Blood. Unfortunately no one is available to take your call right now. Please leave a message after the beep."

"Uh, hi Mr. Brunner. It's Lester making my usual call. If someone could call me back, that'd be great?"

"Phoebus, could you be a dear and help me make lunch?"

"One sec!"

 

---

 

Calculus was evil.

That much Lester knew. His grades weren't terrible, but it had always been hard for him to stay still. Even in his band class he had to be moving in some way to concentrate, whether it was tapping out a beat against whatever surface was available or humming a tune.

(How many detentions had he gotten for talking enthusiastically over the music teacher? Excuse him if he knew more than that guy!)

Last time Meg and Artemis visited on the same weekend, they'd picked up some easels and white boards. Lester had kept one and had it set up next to the kitchen table where he tried working out differentials in large swoops and swirls and a rainbow of doodles.

He still had to painstakingly copy his work to normal paper. While he could have the most beautiful handwriting when he was allowed to be creative with it, his math teacher didn't appreciate the fine calligraphy on the work he turned in and even less his chicken scratch when he rushed it.

So he had to sit down and concentrate on writing out his calculations in neat rows after he'd already worked them out on his white board. It was tedious work and Artemis and Meg had both told him he was making it harder on himself, that he didn't need to turn in perfect equations in perfectly neat handwriting but, dammit, he was going to do this right!

It probably didn't help he kept glancing at the phone on the wall every five minutes, an ache building in his chest.

The camp his cousins went to didn't allow smartphones or cellular devices -- something about the service being bad -- but they had a landline installed in the Big House and Lester called every Saturday.

It was just luck of the draw if anyone would answer on the other end. He'd tried to set up a regular time with Mr. D and Mr. Brunner and Will, but with how active the camp could be it was hit or miss if anyone would reliably be there at the time.

Lester abandoned his homework for the phone and dialed the number again. He bounced on the balls of his feet.

He got Mr. Brunner's voice on the ancient answering machine.

Again.

"Hi, Mr. Brunner. It's Lester again. Could you have Will or Kayla or Gracie or Austin call me back later?"

He hated how tiny his voice got by the end.

"Please?"

He hung up the phone immediately after and tried to will down the tears rising up.

Objectively, it made no sense to him. He only had photographs and phone calls and craft projects and letters.

Yet he could swear he'd seen how Kayla pulled back her bow, had heard Austin take apart, clean, and put his saxophone back together, had actually seen Will's tattoo and met his boyfriend in person. They weren't just voices on the other end of the line or pictures in photographs. They were real people and he missed them even if he couldn't remember ever actually seeing them.

"Phoebus? Are you all right?"

He looked up at his mother as she ducked into the kitchen, pulling off her gardening gloves. She was in a floral blouse and mom jeans, her long long hair was woven out around her head to keep it out of her way as she worked. His mother didn't have the greenest of thumbs, but bless the woman she did try. The garden looked as nice as it did largely thanks to Meg whenever she visited.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Yeah, just… math… you know?"

She snorted.

"You went on and on about binary poetry last month when your teacher talked about it. Surely it can't be that bad."

Lester made a face, thinking of the pages and pages in his diary of ones and zeroes in glittering curlicued blocks of five-seven-five.

"That's different. I can find translators online for that."

His mother glanced at his white board beside him before going to the fridge to get some lemonade.

"Maybe going for a walk would help?" she suggested, "Burn off some of that energy."

"No!" he snapped, then jolted back with a flinch at the sudden ferocity in his voice. Why was he so upset about this? It wasn't like the day was over and it wasn't like he hadn't had a chance to talk to Will and his boyfriend last week.

"Phoebus, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He was definitely not whining.

"...no one's been able to answer the phone, have they?"

He looked down at his homework and shook his head. His mother sighed.

"....we can still arrange a pool party with the Hunters," she offered, pouring some syrup into her lemonade.

"No, no. It's fine."

"Phoebus…"

"It's fine!" he snapped, the tears finally falling.

"I'm just a burden to everyone so why would they come here when they can be out there in the world actually doing stuff?! Not cooped up at home! What's gonna happen when I graduate, Mom? Aster's talking about college and Liliane was talking about going to Greece to see her extended family and I-I-I…"

He bowed his head, hands burrowing into his curls and tugging tight. The tension in his chest burned. He needed to do something, but nowhere to direct it and no idea what.

"What am I supposed to dooooo?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"When?" he demanded, "When will we even get to the bridge?!"

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't. He stood up, knocking into his whiteboard and sending it crashing to the floor.

"Phoebus--"

"I'm going for that walk! I can finish this after I call Meg tomorrow!"

Before his mother could do anything, he stormed to the front door and slammed the screen behind him.

 

---

 

"Hello, Chiron. I'm sorry, you just missed him. I'll let him know you called when he gets back."

 

---

 

His horses were being unruly.

Not that he blamed them. He'd been gone for over a year and no one had really been looking out for them. Even at his most rock star diva periods of his life, Apollo got it. Getting back into a routine could be hard, especially if you were full of restless energy.

(He really needs to put out a help wanted ad for a stable hand, at the very least.)

But the last few weeks it was taking more of his concentration to keep the Sun Chariot on the appropriate path. He kept having to veer around sun dragons he was sure hadn't been flying through this particular section of the sky. Then the horses kept wanting to veer right when he wanted to make them swoop up.

He couldn't divide his attention as much as he liked lately, but as long as he kept this steady routine -- his horses and his chariot and the steady trek across the sky -- all would be well.

He had to keep going. It would get better, surely. He just had to focus on what needed to be done.

If the day came when he couldn't anymore…

Well…

He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

---

"Ask him out."

"Ask who out?" Meg asked, face going tomato red.

Apollo wore a large floppy sunhat with the ribbon tied in a perfect bow under his chin and floral gardening gloves. As had become routine he spent all day Sunday with Meg, giving her piano lessons, helping her with her garden, assisting her eldest two siblings with their calculus homework when Meg started whining about their grumbling, and being put to work helping with dinner by Lu. Sometimes, he took Meg to visit his mother in Florida or had her join him on the Sun Chariot or took her on small day trips to wherever she liked.

(Sometimes he let her take the reins. The horses enjoyed being fiery alicorns and the gleam in Meg's eye told him what she'd ask for come her birthday.)

But right now, his bigger concern was that look Meg got in her eye at young Joshua Tree growing into himself. The little crush he'd seen her nurturing had slowly been blossoming and Joshua seemed like a nice enough boy.

Today, though, Meg's eyes seemed tinted with a bit more longing and a bit of sadness.

"You'll feel better if you just go for it. What's the worst that can happen?"

Meg rolled her eyes and frowned at him before deciding to break up the soil by stabbing it with her trowel.

"You said that last week," she said as she kept stabbing the earth, "He hasn't spoken to me since I took your advice."

Apollo paused. What dating advice had he ever given her besides 'Make sure Lu approves. You've seen how my mother still rants about some of my exes' and 'Don't be afraid to make the first move' and 'Don't be afraid to kick him in the crotch if he's terrible to you but I think Lu beat me to that one'?

"You already asked him out?"

Meg glared at him and jabbed him sharply in the side with what fortunately was the handle of the trowel.

"He gaped at me and said he couldn't go out with me and ran away! You were standing right there!"

With that declaration, Meg stood and huffed off leaving Apollo staring after her.

Okay.

From now on Sundays were only going to be divided between the Chariot and Meg. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he was stretched so thin he forgot something like that again.

Notes:

* Binary poems are fun if you have a tool to translate the binary back and forth.

* Either the next chapter or the chapter after is when things will really start spiralling. I'm still working out the exact flow of them.

* Please remember this is ultimately a horror story.

Chapter 5: Headaches and Hyacinths

Summary:

Lester runs into a classmate.

Apollo can avoid reality for only so long.

Lester stood at the edge of the community gate where he normally waited for the school bus early in the morning. His mother had been talking about maybe getting a car for him once he got his license and he could drive himself to school. Part of him had been excited, but he could already feel his mother’s eyes on the back of his neck if he tried to drive anywhere besides home and school.

It was stifling and it sucked.

But he didn’t have her eyes on him now, at the edge of the gate standing near the bushes of little pink flowers.

There was a gas station down the road.

There was also no rule that said he couldn’t just walk down the street, even if it was hard to think of doing so when his mother had asked him to stay nearby. Down the street was nearby and he was a teenager, a couple years from adulthood! In some places he might already be considered an adult. He taught his younger sister piano and his (older? younger?) twin was off gallivanting everywhere with her friends. Going down the street shouldn't be a big deal.

He walked out the gate. A knot he didn't realize was tight in his chest loosened as he passed the sign for Hyperborea Condos.

Lester huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he kept walking. He wished he'd thought to grab his wallet on the way out, but at least he'd remembered to slip on his flip flops. They made a thuddy sound as he walked and he may or may not have let them slap slap slap extra loudly against his feet as he stomped down the road, creating a rhythm of five-seven-five.

He may not be able to actually buy anything at the store, but at least he could get away for a few minutes. As much as his mother did her best to make the house a home, as often as his sisters and Aunts and Uncles would visit, it was still suffocating in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. With every step Diana's words about this life echoed in his brain.

It wasn't like he couldn’t make his mother more upset than she already was about him storming off. Sure, she’d probably have dinner ready for him and not make a fuss like all the other times he was overdramatic, but there’d be this concern in her eyes that always made something in his chest want to shatter. Just like every time he'd gotten upset like this.

“Lester?”

He whipped around to find a girl around his age with long dark hair plaited down her back in a pink sweater and jeans. Both wrists jangled under the weight of her many charm bracelets.

It took him a moment to remember she rode the same bus to school and was in his music class.

“Lily?”

She rolled her eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you: It’s Liliane,” she said, falling into step beside him, “I didn’t think your mom let you do anything on the weekend with all the family stuff you have going on?”

Lester laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He did talk about his sisters and cousins a lot at school, didn’t he?

“Yeah, well… The family stuff didn’t happen today.” 

Everyone knew about the piano lessons with Meg. Not too long ago, he’d had a week straight in detention because he’d used those lessons as to why he knew more about teaching music than the teacher did.

(It isn't his fault he knows a better way to explain scales!)

What he failed to mention to his classmates was his 'busy weekends' were usually him waiting at home struggling through concentrating on homework while trying to call his cousins or waiting on his Aunts and Uncles to visit.

“That sucks. You always sound so excited about it. I wish I had family like that.”

Lester winced.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Liliane said, the charms on her bracelets tinkling as she swung her arms, “Your siblings visit you all the time and you said your extended family send you presents every few weeks. Your mom sounds like the best from what you’ve bragged about in class. You’ve got a whole family out there. I bet your dad is awesome.”

“I don’t have a dad.”

“Really? You, too? What happened to him?”

“I’unno. He…” His head ached as he tried to think it through. 

Lester never really thought about the subject of his father very often. For immediate family he had his mother and two sisters even if they didn't all live together. As for his father, Lester couldn't even begin to fathom him. There were no pictures or mentions of him. Even Aunt Hestia and Hermes never brought him up.

Every time his mother and him filled out paperwork for school the sections regarding his father were left blank. Artemis was always listed as the emergency contact after his mother, followed by Lu.

The shape of “father” was only a giant stormcloud of nothing in Lester’s mind. Something large in the distance, foreboding, a tight knot of dread just behind his breastbone and a painful buzz between his ears when he tried to think about it.

“He’s not allowed around. I know that much. I never really thought about it. He’s just… Not around and I’m okay with that. It’s better that way.”

Of that he was certain. Wherever his nothing cloud of a father was he could stay there. Lester had no reason to even consider seeing him if the man ever reached out to him. For a moment, Lester half wondered if his mother got pregnant with himself and Artemis with no help from a father at all.

Liliane crossed her arms, eyes narrowing a bit.

“Why? Aren’t you even curious about him?”

“Why would I be? I guess he left when Artemis and I were really little? I don’t remember him at all.”

The corner store wasn’t too crowded when they entered, which suited Lester fine. Between his earlier fit and the questions about his father his throat was sore and the buzz between his ears had evolved into a dull throb just behind his eyes. 

Liliane made a straight line for the snacks.

“Are you getting anything?” she called as she snatched up a package of hostess donuts and then made her way to the fridge for a sprite.

“Uh… no. I, um… I forgot my wallet. But, uh… Could you get me some aspirin?”

Liliane rolled her eyes, but headed for the aisle.

“You owe me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said loftily as he followed just behind her, arms spreading in an expansive gesture, “I shall compose a ballad in honor of the fair Liliane Somners, the best clarinet player in all of Tampa, buyer of aspirin, and purveyor of magazines.”

“Oh, you want a magazine, too?” she said, plucking a travel packet of aspirin from the rack, “What am I? Made of money?”

For a moment, Lester could have sworn he’d been in a similar situation with Meg. A cheap corner gas station, picking out snacks and first-aid supplies and figuring out money and gas when all he’d wanted to do was load her down with every kind of junk amd convenience they could think of.

He shook himself out of it. Liliane wasn’t Meg and something was off about it anyway. When Meg visited he spoiled her in all the ways Artemis refused to let him and his mother always slipped an extra twenty or two in his wallet to enable it. He’d never been in a situation where he’d needed to worry about money and gas and certainly not with Meg. Lu and his mother would have never allowed that.

“Nah, you don’t have to,” he said. Liliane rolled her eyes and headed for the cash register. Lester swallowed the aspirin dry the second it was rung up.

He said his goodbyes to his classmate and decided it was time to head home. Dread weighed heavily in his stomach.

---

Apollo was not ashamed to admit he was avoiding Zeus. If he was completely honest he had been avoiding the god for years already. There was avoiding even the thought of someone and his deeds. Then there was acknowledging why one was avoiding someone while learning to set boundaries instead of simply trying to dodge them.

He knew his father was getting annoyed by Apollo telling him no unless he was told exactly what these meetings were about, but in this he had to stand firm. “Private” meetings with no warning as to the contents had led to no good in the past and Apollo knew he’d crumble the second he was alone with him.

Zeus likely wanted to take his time to personally justify his Trials and his treatment leading up to them. Maybe even explain what happened in that great blank nothing between the end of the last war and falling into a dumpster.

(He isn’t sure he wants to know that bit. Not just yet. Not with how tired he is.)

“You know he’s just going to keep asking,” Hermes reminded him, the missive still in his hand.

“I know,” Apollo said, pushing the note back to Hermes, “but he just needs to give me a reason to meet. We’re both very busy people and I’m not interested in father-son bonding with him.”

“But all you do lately is work and mope in the Sun Palace,” Hermes pointed out, “ You barely do anything else lately. What if it’s about the girl you were with? Or your trips to Camp Half-Blood.”

“Meg McCaffrey requested piano lessons as a reward for Her Service and I can reward my children similarly for their aid.”

Well, she asked for Pumpkin, but Apollo wasn’t going to correct anyone on the matter. As for his children, how could he not at least make an effort? If it just so happened Austin, Kayla, and Will were not his only children present when he visited who was really at fault?

“Listen, the Muses have been getting concerned. You’ve barely spoken with them and they said you were mixing up their names the last time you guys had a movie night. You’ve never forgotten anyone’s names. I know you’re probably still adjusting, but are you sure you’re doing oka--”

A familiar head of auburn hair he’d recognize anywhere appeared near the edge of the courtyard.

"Artemis!" he called loudly and made a point of striding confidently towards her.

(He doesn't understand why the Muses are more concerned than angry about that incident.)

Artemis quickly turned her back to him. Apollo faltered, confused.

“Are you okay?”

He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. She tensed and he couldn’t help but to flinch back from her. 

First Meg and her confession to Joshua, then mixing up the Muses. Did he forget something about Artemis as well? Was she actually Diana right now? He had never been mistaken when she was Roman and he was Greek. His sister was his sister was his sister no matter what aspect of her was in front of him.

Stern silver eyes looked up at him with resignation as she finally faced him.

Apollo’s day instantly got better. He could feel himself practically glowing when he saw her face.

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” he asked eagerly.

Artemis turned away from him again with a huff and crossed her arms.

“You are! And it’s not even because you just wanted to! It’s actually applied!”

Not that Apollo was one to talk with the twenty-two step skincare routine he used to have when he never really needed it. His sister was the sort who preferred lip glosses and balms when she felt like applying cosmetics. Maybe some blush if visiting their mother for a special occasion.

Never striking cat-eyed eyeliner, not when she appeared so young.

“Thalia and some of my Hunters have been asking me to give it a try.”

“Is it just the eyeliner or did you use primer and concealer, too? Did Thalia let you borrow hers or did you pick some up when you and the Hunters went shopping?” He barely held back from explaining how people shouldn’t share makeup, particularly anything that was meant for the eyes. He was trying not to be overbearing about it.

He could hear Hermes make an exasperated noise behind him. Apollo waved him off while slinging an arm around Artemis. She shot him a look as he began to walk them down a lively street towards one of the quieter gardens.

“We’ll catch up later, Hermes!”

It may not have been right to use Artemis to get out of a conversation he probably needed to have, but he knew she’d understand. Besides, he needed to know if she’d done that perfect winged eyeliner herself or if Thalia had helped her.

---

When Lester got home he saw his mother had righted his white board and picked up the mess on the ground. His heart dropped to his stomach.

He'd been overdramatic again and his mother had cleaned up after him. The smell of something delicious wafted through the house and he turned to see her setting the table.

"I could have done it," he weakly protested.

"I know," she said, "But you're upset. I get it. You're a teenage boy right now, trying to grow into yourself. And…"

She went quiet as she set out the plates, lips turned down in a frown. Lester headed for the fridge to at least pull out the pitcher and syrup. Then he pulled out a chair for his mother to sit down like he always did. Setting the table for her was supposed to be his job.

Instead, his mother bent low to hug him tight from behind, silver swirling eyes closed tight as she rested her forehead on his shoulder.

(He is four days and six years and twelve years and a thousand and fifty-four years and four thousand and ten years old at the same time and he is ugly sobbing in terrified relief in someone’s arms at having stopped the thing that had tried to hurt them all.)

Lester could feel the throb of his headache return and his grip on the back of the chair tightened.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"As much as I want you to have a chance at a safe and happy childhood, you haven't been a child for a very long time."

(He is long grown and the first love of his life is gone and he begs His Mother to make it better, but there are things even She cannot fix.)

"What are you saying?"

(He is holding Artemis tight after her best friend died. Guilt consumes him at how pleased he is she's all right despite the costs. It's the only time Artemis has ever clung as tightly to him as he would to her.)

"...You can go camping with Artemis and the Hunters."

His heart pounded in his chest as he twisted out of his mother's grip to look up at her.

(He is Lester Papadopoulos and as far as he is concerned, he is seventeen years old and lives at home with his elderly mother just outside of Tampa.)

"But?" he asked, hopeful. There was no way there were no strings attached. Not with how much he knew his mother worried.

"But…" she said, straightening herself up to her full height, "you must call me before the sun goes down every day. Grown or not, you're in my care and I need to be sure you're okay."

That was odd. Lester tilted his head to the side, regarding his mother curiously.

"…Did something happen while I was out?"

His mother's lips twitched. She hesitated for a second before telling him the truth.

"Chiron called."

He pressed his face into his hands.

Of course.

Because he had to be an overdramatic ass over something stupid he missed something he'd been looking forward to all week.

He sat heavily in his mother's chair. He could feel his headache building again despite the earlier aspirin.

"We talked a bit. He pointed out how, even if you're getting a decent childhood… part of that is letting you out into the world and going to school doesn't necessarily count."

His mother ran an affectionate hand through his curls.

"In some ways this was so much easier the first time around."

Lester couldn't help but lean into the affection, face still hidden in his hands.

"Pack warm. It's going to be cold where you're going and make sure to stay close to your sister and her lieutenants."

---

Artemis nudged Apollo in the side.

"You're doing it again."

He blinked, feeling an ache form just behind his eyes as he tried to remember what they were talking about. Eyeliner, right? His horses had just needed a bit more attention navigating around a stray phoenix.

"Doing what?" He stood up straight from the rail he’d been leaning on and turned to face her.

The eyeliner made him so giddy. Artemis could be so weak to her Hunters’ wishes, especially the youngest ones.

"Losing focus. Is work that taxing you can't spare me a little of your attention right now?"

"What? No! I'd always make time for you."

"Well, you hardly come out after you tend the horses lately and I…"

He had a feeling he knew, even if Artemis was terrible at expressing her feelings.

They both were. The first time he'd told her he loved her in a couple centuries had been on the verge of death. He'd drop everything for her, do anything for her, rend the world itself apart for Artemis's sake if she only asked and even if she hadn't.

Yet he hadn't done the simplest thing of just telling her he loved her in so long. How much had he taken for granted when it came to his sister?

"I need to get the Sun Palace in order," he said instead, "and I don't want to distract you while you're working."

And he'd been tired. It was hard to explain. Once he pulled himself back together after a ride and visiting there was an ache he'd call bone deep if his truest self had bones at all. It had him crawling into his bed for rest and sleep much earlier than he liked. It used to be he could sleep through most of winter and be fine if he needed rest so badly. Now he needed it near-daily to keep his strength up.

"Are you sure you’re all right?”

Apollo shrugged, carefully picking a flower from over the railing and admiring it. A fond smile grew on his lips. The little clusters of six purple petals made warmth bloom in his chest and he couldn't help but stroke his thumb over the velvety texture of it.

His sister rolled her eyes. He knew that particular eye roll. If they were even a few centuries younger she'd probably be pretending to gag right then.

Apollo plucked a single blossom off the bunch and twirled it between his fingers. It was so delicate, so beautiful and sweet, the color stirring something deep in his mind though he couldn’t quite pinpoint where. This exact shade would be gorgeous in the eyes of a smiling face. He felt warm just thinking of those hypothetical eyes.

"Artemis… when did we get these? Did Annabeth have these planted here?"

There was a long silence. He looked up to see Artemis outright gaping at him.

"Apollo, those are hyacinths ."

Notes:

* Liliane exists so we get an outside perspective on the Lester situation.
* The hyacinth scene was the very first one I fully wrote out for this story. I debated on when to insert it and decided now was the best since we're getting to the meat and potatoes of the plot.

Chapter 6: Showtunes and Shutdowns

Summary:

Lester goes on a roadtrip.

Apollo attempts to evade Artemis.

Artemis reminds herself he's still Apollo.

"Did you make sure to pack an extra sweater? You get cold so easily these days."

"Yes, Mom."

Lester’s curls were tucked into a bright yellow hat threaded with gold with a little puffball on top. He had on his favorite black hoodie with a silhouette of Santa's sleigh flying in front of moon on the front. His mother had made a point to get several of the bright orange shirts from his cousins' camp to wear while in the woods for visibility. He would be perfectly warm wherever Artemis was taking him camping. 

"And a sleeping bag?"

"We bought one last week, remember? Along with the shoes." He stuck out a foot to show her he was wearing his new hiking boots. They'd made an afternoon of coating them in waterproof sealant several times over in the backyard.

"Of course, of course. And you made sure you finished your homework?"

"Mom! It's Spring Break. I'll get the reading done while I'm with Artemis and do the written when I get back."

It wasn't like his grades would be terrible if he didn't do the homework at all. For all the detentions he got for talking over his teachers, he had a near-perfect GPA and his attendance record was impeccable. He could afford to just not do his homework for once if he wanted.

"Did you remember--"

"Mooom!" he whined, bouncing on his toes, "If you don't trust me then trust Artemis. She knows what she's doing and she's got everything for camping and I'm not gonna be by myself. Reyna or Thalia or Bri will be with me when she's working."

His mother laughed brightly and he couldn't help but grin, tugging his overstuffed suitcase closer to himself.

"I was going to ask if you remembered your cow."

She held out the stuffed animal. Lester could feel his ears go warm in embarrassment, but he reached out and hugged it to his chest. He'd probably feel a little more ashamed about having a favorite stuffed toy at his age if he was going to get picked up by anyone but Artemis.

A silver van with gold reindeer decals on the hood pulled up just outside their condo. Thalia was riding shotgun and leaning out the window waving to them enthusiastically. 

"Yo, dude! We're here to kidnap you!"

Lester's heart soared.

Artemis was actually taking him with her! 

A tug on his mother's arm got her to lean down so he could kiss her cheek.

"Bye, Mom! Love you!" 

Artemis had barely parked the van when Lester slid the side door open and practically tossed his suitcase and backpack in.

"See you Saturday!" he called before he slammed the door shut.

His mother was laughing brightly, but he didn't care. He crawled over the seats. Artemis yelped as he looped his arms around her shoulders from behind the driver's seat and kissed the top of her head. Trapped as she was by the seatbelt she couldn't escape his affections now!

"I missed you so much!"

"I was here a little over a week ago," she said. Thalia was laughing at him. Lester stuck his tongue out at her.

"Hey, hey! Don't give me that! I'm babysitting you when Lady Artemis isn't around."

"I'm seventeen and change! I don't need a babysitter!"

"Then what would you call it?"

"Bodyguarding," he said without skipping a beat.

"Yeah, well, you still sleep with a stuffed animal."

"Hey!" he snapped, hugging his cow close with one arm, "I don't sleep with him! Jason has a barn!"

"Thalia, you say that as if you haven't seen my deer," Artemis said. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"Apollo, could you let go? I need to drive and you need to put on your seatbelt."

"Fine. Fine." She let him kiss her hair again. He made a point of buckling his cow into the seat next to him before settling back and taking care of his own. "Can I get shotgun on the way back?"

" Hey !" Thalia snapped, thumping her chest, "I'm the lieutenant. That means I have permanent shotgun privileges."

"I don't know. I may allow Reyna to have shotgun duty instead."

"Whatever, can you put on Mamma Mia?" Lester asked, practically leaning over sideways in his seat.

"What? No!" Thalia protested, "We are not listening to cheesy showtunes the whole way!"

"Thalia, put on Hamilton."

"Artemis!" Thalia sounded absolutely scandalized.

"We could always put on Hadestown," she offered with a small smirk, "Our Uncle's Wife has been quite entertained by it from what I hear."

"Oh! Oh!" Lester cried, leaning between the seats now, "Next time you and Meg visit together we should totally watch that together! You, too, Thalia. You should visit with Artemis sometime!"

"Fine! Fine!" Thalia laughed and reached out to adjust the radio. Artemis waved to their mother as she started up the engine.

Lester turned in his seat to wave out the back as the first cords of Alexander Hamilton began to play.

---

Apollo couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. Not right now. Not like this. Definitely not here.

Hyacinthus's face. Why couldn't he remember his face? The vast majority of his lovers he approached because there had been the thought in the back of his mind Hyacinthus would have loved to meet them.

Why couldn't he remember his face? 

These flowers - hyacinths. They were called.

 hyacinths - were everywhere now that he was noticing them. When had they first been planted here?

but if they were called hyacinths then they had to have existed for hundreds if not thousands of years. That wasn't some arbitrary name and Hyacinthus definitely hadn't been named after the flower.

"I… I need to go," he told Artemis. He could feel his body shaking as he held the flowers close but he didn't feel the slightest bit cold. He was still driving the Sun Chariot. Why was he shaking if he wasn't cold?

Did he like the soft lavender color of the flowers because they were the same as Hyacinthus's eyes?

Why couldn't he remember Hyacinthus's eyes? He remembered adoring them, not being able to get enough of those eyes on him, but why couldn't he remember what they looked like?

"Apollo," Artemis said, reaching for him, "What's going on?"

"I need to go!" he snapped, jerking away from her. He couldn't be here where everyone could see.

(Where his father might see.)

Apollo would never admit to fleeing, but that's what he did. He ran from Artemis, turned the corner, and was elsewhere.

---

“Driiiive! Just driiiiiiiiive!” Lester sang at the top of his lungs. It actually sounded pretty good in his opinion. His band teacher constantly hinted he should try for choir instead since the two classes were in the same period.

Lester liked his string instruments too much to really consider it, but like with any instrument he picked up singing came easily to him.

“Stay ahead, stay ahead! Stay aliiiiive!” Thalia joined in, pointing ahead as they made their way through the back roads. Her own voice was clear and strong as she sang along with him.

They were driving along a scenic mountain road. To one side of them was the cliff face, to the other was a sheer drop into the beautiful forest spread out around them. The sky was such a vibrant shade of blue Lester almost wanted to cry from the beauty of it all.

“The weather may be stormy but the road is still before me!” Lester continued to sing leaning over to strike his arm between Artemis and Thalia's seats and point ahead.

“So pedal to the metal and drive!” Thalia joined in at the top of her lungs, pumping a fist in the air. Artemis laughed softly and obliged them by speeding up the van, whipping around the sharp turns.

If anyone else had been driving, Lester might have worried more about how precarious the road was. Instead he just laughed as bright as his mother had.

---

"Apollo, this is important!" Artemis cried as she followed him onto the roof of the Empire State Building.

He was clutching the spray of flowers tight in his hand. They were the color of Hyacinthus's eyes. That had to be why they fascinated him so. 

"I can't have… I can't do this… I didn't--"

He pulled out his phone. There were pictures in there. He had so much art commissioned of Hyacinthus and Daphne over the millennia to keep them from being forgotten. He had an album dedicated to just the two of them, interspersed with things they might have liked.

(Was the reason he could only remember having two real conversations with Daphne because he forgot even more?)

"Apollo, please!" Artemis cried, reaching for him again.

He turned from her and ran for the stairs and down the front steps of Aeithales.

"Lester?!" Meg cried.

"Hi Meg, bye Meg, I will see you on Sunday!" he shouted as he dashed right by where she and Cassius were digging in the dirt, a dozen seedlings in a tray ready to be transplanted. The Meliai rose to give chase to the sudden unexpected intruder only to be bowled over by a much smaller figure in silver running at equal speed.

"Apollo! Get back here!" Artemis cried as he dashed through the door to the shed.

---

"The folks are gone! It's time for big fun!" Lester belted at the top of his lungs.

"Big Fun!" Thalia echoed, outright dancing in her seat now. A vast desert surrounded their well air-conditioned van and Lester held his cow aloft to help Thalia sing backup. Between the three of them they'd gone through half the snacks. Lester had twisted countless kit-kat wrappers into flowers.

"We're up til dawn having some big fun!"

"Big fun!" Artemis finally joined in, a sweet smile plastered on her face.

---

The flowers were clutched tight in his hand. 

Hyacinthus's face. 

Hyacinthus's face . 

His eyes were that color but what was the shape of them? What expression did he have when looking at him? How did his brow slope and his lips part when speaking? What shade did they shift to in the setting of his sun? What color did they darken into with his laughter and anger and desire?

Apollo wanted to cry. He could feel the tears building as he slammed the door open.

"Dad, what the hell?!"

In a second there was about three feet between his son and a very disheveled looking Son of Hades.

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" Will cried, looking ready to throw the pillows, the nightstand, and probably the bunk beds themselves at him.

Oh, right. His kids' cabin. And it was relatively empty for once.

His own father was probably going to be pissed he stopped by here so soon after his last visit, but it wasn't like Apollo had the capacity to care right then. Not with lavender flowers clutched in his grip and the absence of a face in his mind.

"Sorry about that," he called as he dashed through, "If you see your Aunt you did not see me!"

He ran out the back door.

"Dude!" Percy Jackson yelled, almost dropping a pan of hot cookies.

Ah. Apparently he was visiting his mother who looked equally as confused in her kitchen.

"I'll explain later!" he called as he ran out the front door of their apartment. He could hear Artemis yelling for him as she ran out of the closet.

As he jumped over the rail for the stairs he knew of one place she wouldn't follow him.

---

“Nothing!" Thalia cried, practically banging her head to the tune on the radio as she sang, "can stop us now! Oh, nothing--can take us down!”

“Who needs to stop and piss when you’re in the lead?” Lester belted out.

He had pulled his cow from the other seat and was wiggling the limbs to make it bang its head in time to the music. Outside the van they drove along a wide blue river. His dark curls were a mess as usual and Artemis now wore his knitted yellow hat.

If Lester wasn't so busy having a great time he would have noticed a few curious heads poking up out of the water to stare at the van as it passed them by.

“Can’t stop us now. Oh, nothing can break us down," both Lester and Thalia continued. Thalia turned in her seat to gesture dramatically with Lester, "Who knew that all this time we had what we need?”

Artemis's couldn't help laughing softly as both of them went into a hurried chant of "Faster Faster Faster Faster Faster Faster Faster!" for the next few minutes.

---

It wasn't exactly galloping Apollo heard, but it may as well have been with the crashing of jingle bells and the thunderous snap of the reins.

Apollo looked over his shoulder.

"Really?" he cried in exasperation as he saw Artemis approaching him in the Moon Chariot, "At work?!"

The Midwest would be dealing with an unexpected solar eclipse.

"Apollo, we need to talk about this!" she cried, "Something is going on with you!"

"Can't I have five minutes to myself to process the fact I can't remember Hyacinthus's face?!" he snapped at her as she drew up beside him. Much as he was loath to admit it, he couldn't avoid her in any way now. Not without abandoning the Sun Chariot and that would lead to disastrous results.

"What has been going on?" she demanded.

"I don't know!"

"Apollo -- "

"I honestly don't know!"

Any heat behind his words disappeared as the horses reared up. Apollo fought for a moment to get them back under control.

Scientists would later report an unexpected solar flare from behind the lunar eclipse.

"You've been acting strangely since you got back. Not that I blame you, but --"

"--will you just give me ten damn minutes, Artemis!" he snarled, "You hated it when I did this to you so why the fuck are you doing it to me?! Just leave me the hell alone, damn it!"

He instantly felt sick to his stomach. His chest burned and he could feel the familiar pressure behind his eyes of oncoming tears.

In his flight from his sister he'd completely crushed the poor hyacinths and he'd dropped his phone at some point. His album of art of Daphne and Hyacinthus was on that.

Worse, he'd snapped at Artemis. He buried his face in one hand. He could feel his whole body starting to tremble. It was getting hard to take in a single breath of air.

"Just… just give me a few minutes. I'll meet you at the Sun Palace. Okay? I just…. I need to be alone for a bit. Can you give me that?"

He turned to her, feeling the tears beginning to fall. He knew he was emotional, he knew he cried easily even before the trials, but he hated Artemis seeing him cry like this.

"Please?"

Her eyeliner probably wasn't the best brand. It was running a bit from the exertion of chasing him up and down the eastern seaboard.

But Artemis gave him a nod.

"I'll meet with you after you stable your horses," she said, "We are going to talk about this."

"Fine! Just… just leave me alone."

He hated how heartbroken she looked as she snapped the reins of her chariot and the golden deer began to ascend to the sky, leaving Apollo to stew in his thoughts.

At least the horses behaved despite Apollo openly weeping.

---

"What happened to the wonderful adventures? The places that I planned for us to go?” Artemis sang softly.

Thalia's voice had long been lost She was drinking down a soda as Artemis drove them through one final tunnel and out into the forests of Yosemite. Her brother's stuffed red cow was now in Thalia's lap, tucked into her seatbelt.

She glanced into the rear view mirror to see her brother had pushed himself against the window, dark curls poking out from under the cap their mother had knitted poorly. His fingers were splayed against the glass as he took in the sight of the forest for what he likely thought was the first time.

Funny, he had looked just as giddy every single time they had explored these woods in the last couple centuries. Of all of them, he'd been the most ecstatic about the sudden move to the New World.

How much of this would he remember as it truly was tomorrow?

“Slipping through my fingers all the time," he sang in a softer tone to back up her own voice. Thalia was giving Artemis a look. She shook her head, a wistful smile on her face.

Mortal or not, at least he was still her Apollo at his core. Was this protectiveness how he felt when he declared himself the older sibling when she decided to appear younger than him for her Hunters' comfort?

“Well, some of that we did," she sang softly, clear as a bell, "but most we didn’t. And why, I just don’t know.”

Thalia reached across and rested a hand on her shoulder.

It'd be decades yet before she'd truly lose him. She had to remember that. Her and her mother both.

“Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute," she sang alongside the radio, eyes returning to the road. "The feeling in it."

They pulled into the campground. Her Apollo was already unbuckling his seat belt.

It was good he was finally out in the world again. One way or another this would do them all good.

"Slipping through my fingers all the time.”

Notes:

*The original version of this chapter was a generic chase sequence through Olympus and Lester being picked up by Artemis and Thalia to go camping. Then I remembered gods can teleport pretty much anywhere they want and realized this would be so much more fun.

*Show tunes in order:

"Drive" from the Lightning Thief Musical. Does it exist in universe? Is it from an in-universe franchise with the serial numbers filed off? WHO KNOWS! I thought it was fun and fit.

"Big Fun" from Heathers.

"Speedrun" from the Starkid musical “The trail to Oregon”.

“Slipping through my fingers” from Mamma Mia because when I write ToA!Apollo it's his favorite movie ever and he’s a fan of cheesy romcoms.

*Yes, Lester's poor band teacher is absolutely done with him and his antics.

Chapter 7: Exhaustion and Excitement

Summary:

Lester gets settled in with the Hunters.

Apollo and Artemis have a conversation.

Notes:

*Removed and re-edited this chapter. It accomplished what I wanted it to do, but it could have been stronger. I feel much much better about this version.

*CW: Discussion of declining health and issues with eating in relation to said declining health.

If Apollo took more time than usual stabling his horses that was no one's business but his own. Artemis had never once broken her word to him so he knew she was waiting inside. Worse, he could feel her eyes on him all the way from the Moon Chariot as another instance of her drove it on its proper course.

Their father would no doubt demand to know what the earlier stunt was about. Apollo was already trying to figure out how to keep that man's wrath far away from his sister.

He leaned his head against the gate and took in a deep breath, feeling absolutely wretched and exhausted. Everything but the desperate remembrance of the warmth of Hyacinthus’s hand in his was impossible to keep together as he went through the motions of trying to calm himself.

Apollo wished he could just crawl into bed, hug his cow, and cry some more, even if it was the childish thing to do.

But he promised Artemis. If he didn't show, even to get a nap, she'd just chase him all over again. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to outrun the Goddess of the Hunt.

He stood straight and ran his fingers through his hair as he tossed it back. The puffiness of his eyes were gone. His hair was no longer sweaty and stringy and fell in dark curls around his shoulders. His throat was still sore, but at least he looked presentable. With a snap of his fingers, his chiton became his favorite jeans and his old Apollo mission T-shirt. The fringe jacket Naomi gifted him on their third date settled on his shoulders.

He sighed and pulled his arms through the sleeves. At least he was getting the hang of this part again. Maybe the rest would come back to him soon.

As he approached the Sun Palace he pulled his hair up into a loose bun to get it off his neck.

He'd have to retrace his steps the next day. Sure, the pictures of all that art were in the cloud but he could never keep any real track of his passwords. Hephaestus and Hermes always gave him That Look every single time he came crying because he locked himself out of his accounts yet again.

Artemis was inside waiting for the demanded conversation, but more of those flowers were planted at the base of the staircase.

-- hyacinths. Six soft petals radiating from the center in tall bunches reaching for the sky in shades of lavender, pink, and white.

The pinks were the same shades of his sunset Hyacinthus said he always liked. Apollo had made a huge point of including that shade when some part of him wasn't by Hyacinthus’s side. The lavender was no doubt the color of his lost love’s eyes. It had to be. Why else would it captivate him so? The whites for the clouds they used to lay back and pick out shapes in to tell nonsense stories to one another.

Why couldn’t he remember any of those stories? He made the silliest stupidest of poems with the most ridiculous rhyming schemes and cadences out of them to get Hyacinthus to laugh.

His entire being ached with grief. If Artemis wasn't waiting for him, he'd probably fall to his knees weeping again. How could he so intricately understand the logic behind these flowers, the bits Hyacinthus would have loved, but not remember the actual creation of them? This was not some centuries-old epic he made on a whim or a song he wrote among the myriad of others. This was Hyacinthus . It’d be like forgetting laurels and Daphne and how little he knew of her now made dread settle like stone on his shoulders.

He plucked several stalks of the blossoms and cradled them to his chest. Armed and armored, he marched up the stairs to meet with his sister.

---

The dogs hated Lester.

While the great silver beasts stayed a good distance from him and eyed him like he was nothing more than a rabbit huddling in its burrow, he knew they wouldn’t spring at him. Artemis would not have any less than the best trained dogs.

It probably helped he was walking with his sister dragging his overstuffed suitcase behind him. Thalia was on Artemis’s other side holding his cow under her arm. She waved off the looks of curious girls in silver while Lester waved excitedly to familiar faces such as Bri and Reyna.

Reyna gave him a strained smile as she waved back. Bri gave him a wink and a too-wide grin that made his face go hot and nearly caused him to trip.

"So, uh, Mr. Dodds told me to be quiet," he continued in his story once he caught his feet back under him, "But he was describing iambic pentameter all wrong. Like yeah, you alternate stressing syllables, but he wasn't explaining how you stress the syllables. It's the one that sounds louder and you generally alternate it. I tried to explain that to Aster but he told me to shut up but I was just trying to help and I got detention again and Mom told me I had to go. I still don't get why I have to have detention when I was only trying to help!"

"Because you're under the same rules as the other kids even if you know more and it sucks,” Thalia said, “I'm still surprised you're even bothering with school at all."

"Normal kids go to school.”

"You're not exactly normal even by our family's standards," Artemis said, pulling aside the front flap of her tent to let him and Thalia in, "Have you given any thought to what you'd like to do when you finish?"

"I… uh…" he faltered for a second as he glanced around.

The tent was nicer than he had expected. The ground was covered in silk rugs and pillows. A large silver bow sat on a display near the far side. Pelts of all kinds hung along the walls and Lester couldn't help the swell of pride in his sister at seeing them all.

An odd feeling of standing here, specifically, settled over him as he glanced around. He knew for a fact he’d never been at his sister’s camp before, but everything about this -- even the smell of cloves and incense from the flameless fire in the center -- was something he should know, had already known and seen.

(He’s four thousand and eleven and Artemis is clinging to him in the way he always clung to h--)

“Lester? You gonna answer the question?” He startled and turned to Thalia.

"Not really?" he continued after a moment and tugged his suitcase after him. "Maybe medical school? I'm liking biology and my first aid class last semester was pretty cool, but I’ve also been looking at these really cool lit programs at the college nearby. There’s poetry classes, too! Oh, and history! History would be cool, too. Or maybe astronomy. They’re going to the moon again soon and it’d be really cool if--"

"You actually do like school, don’t you?” Thalia dropped his cow on the cot where his sister's stuffed golden deer sat. Something about seeing the two toys together made his stomach feel warm and mushy. “Do you really think you could pull off that many majors at once? You’re only human now.”

"I don't know," Artemis said, taking a seat by the smokeless fire warming the tent. "When it comes down to the wire Apollo has always managed to pull through. You've always been reliable that way. Maybe start light for your sanity, but I think you could."

Lester's ears burned and he could feel hot pressure behind his eyes. The swell of emotion made his throat close up a bit.

The tent was warm enough he pulled off his cap and sweater to keep from talking. Thalia snickered at him.

"What?" he asked, looking down at himself. Bright orange wasn’t exactly fashionable, but it was the basic shirt from his cousins’ camp. His mother insisted because he'd be more visible if he got separated from the Hunters, even if he had no intention of going off by himself.

"Didn't take orange as your color."

Artemis gave him a sad smile, her silver eyes wistful as Lester dropped his cap and sweater on the cot.

"I think it suits him."

---

Artemis was sitting on one of the many lounge chairs on the veranda overlooking the lush gardens, her hands folded in her lap and shoulders tense. Stern silver eyes looked up at him as he approached.

"The Palace is filthy."

He winced. Yeah, he should have known she’d gone inside, the snoop that she was. He kept forgetting to finish cleaning it up. He also kept forgetting to hire help to do it while he was out. He also didn't have the energy after stabling the horses whenever he managed to think about it.

"I know. I haven't gotten around to it."

There was a long awkward silence. Apollo didn't know where to begin. 

He gazed out at the garden. He remembered in the aftermath of the Titan War, talking an overwhelmed Annabeth Chase through how what would be most important to him would be the view of the gardens. Reassuring her that she would not have been granted the right and privilege of being the architect if none of them thought her fit for the job.

She’d sounded so much like the muses when she finally started talking, breathless and excited about her chosen craft, her skill with pencil to paper to sketch out her suggestions remarkable for one so young. He’d need to keep an eye on her as a possible Tenth.

It’s only now he can remember why the view of the garden had been the most important thing to him.

Artemis broke the silence.

"It's been months, Apollo. You used to have help. Where is it?"

He winced, pulled back to the here and now whether he wanted to be or not.

"I just… forgot? To hire more."

He clutched the hyacinths closer to his chest. Not for the first time he wished Hyacinthus was here. The man had a way of keeping him calm and grounded and to pause and think before he acted. More than once he'd convinced Apollo to stay his hand or direct his wrath more constructively, something Apollo had attempted to take to heart.

His face might currently be a mystery, but Apollo knew how disappointed he'd be if he kept avoiding this.

He sat down on a chair across from his sister's and lit the fire pit between them.

"Apollo, something is going on. The mess, disappearing entirely at night, the trouble with your horses -- Urania said you forgot she’s working at NASA and kept calling her Calliope -- and you would never forget hyacinths. This isn't like you."

He picked off a bloom and twirled it between his fingers. The shape of the thing was there in the fog of his mind, the how and why of their existence. Why the younger him would choose these colors, the grief that led to it.

Even if it was natural to forget Hyacinthus's face he should have remembered these existed.

"...I'm tired."

"What?"

"I'm tired all the time," he admitted, keeping his eyes on the bloom between his fingers. It was easier than talking directly to Artemis. Shame rose up in him. He could hear a gruff voice in his ear and a too tight grip on his shoulder he steadfastly ignored.

Hyacinthus would want him to talk about this. Daphne had appreciated him being up front with her.

"I finally get back to you and Olympus and I'm exhausted. It wasn't so bad at first, but I can barely stand after I stable the horses sometimes. I lay down to rest, I blink, and it's morning already and I have to get the chariot out and do so many other things. The only respite it feels like I have is when I'm visiting Meg or Mom or the kids and even then I leave more exhausted than before. It's like I'd say being mortal but being mortal wasn't this exhausting. Not usually. The last two times I was fine when I ascended again. So this is… weird."

"But the hyacinths… and the Muses… there has to be an explanation. What did you do?"

He looked at his sister. He remembered frantically avoiding her as the Giantomachy approached. He remembered he’d let flattery and pleas get him in over his head again against his better judgment. He remembered Artemis and Diana both demanding to help him much like she was now.

She risked her neck for him too much. He owed her true honesty.

"I don't know.”

Artemis gave him a hard look, her eyes searched his and her lips pursed just so as she came to a decision.

At times like this it was impossible to play at being the older twin even if Artemis looked twelve. She looked so much like their mother at times and had inherited the best parts of their father.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"When have you last had a decent meal?"

"Uh…" He sat back, knowing she was on the Hunt in a different way. She would not let this go. Artemis never let anything go when it came to him.

".....Breakfast…?" he ventured after a long moment.

Artemis rolled her eyes.

"Was it an actual breakfast or did you grab a latte while you were out on your ride?"

Sometimes Apollo hated she knew him so well.

"The last real sit down meal was probably dinner at Meg's last Sunday."

Artemis looked ready to throttle him.

“Apollo, it's Thursday !"

His shoulders hunched a bit and his gaze dropped to the flowers looking up at him accusingly.

"I'm going to tell Mom," Artemis said.

That got Apollo to look at her, eyes going wide. Their mother finding out was the last thing either one of them needed. She’d worried too much for this to continue.

"No. Please.” Was that tiny voice his own? “Don't tell her. She's had to worry enough."

Artemis leaned forward, silver eyes dark. He winced, focusing on the flower again. Right, Artemis had been just as scared and worried. Unlike their mother she'd had an almost front row seat to that whole mess and almost risked their father’s wrath for his sake. He could feel his ears burning.

(He could feel the burning around his wrists and through his mind as it took his sister's face from him --)

"You've exhausted yourself and are barely eating," she said, moving to sit next to him. She reached for his hand, careful not to disturb the flower he was twirling. 

"If one of your patients was in your position with memory problems and exhaustion and had been forgetting to eat, what would you tell them?"

He winced. He knew what she wanted to hear -- it was what he'd tell someone in his position -- but it still stung. Especially after he'd tried to commit himself to change for the better, to not forget what it was like to be mortal.

He carefully set the flowers on his lap and rested his hand over hers.

"...to get help."

"Please. Get help. I’ll help you look for someone. You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders and hide away anymore.”

---

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" Lester asked his sister as he put away his phone.

The sun was starting to set - a glorious shade of pink! - and their mother had been pleased when he called to report they'd made it safely to the campgrounds. The dogs had yet to eat him, which he’d consider a win.

"Like what?" Artemis asked, tossing a bag of marshmallows from hand to hand. The Hunters were putting together a few small campfires to make dinner and s'mores. Lester had volunteered himself to lead a sing-along. It got some of the Hunters groaning and Thalia and Reyna to wince in what Lester hoped was sympathy. 

"Like I'm gonna burst into flames at any second," he said, "Or fall into a bottomless pit."

"It's just weird. Seeing you here. I'm glad Mom let you come."

"I am, too. I know you visit a lot, but it's nice. Getting real time with you without being baby-sat or going to the same old places doing the same old things. Getting to just be with you where you like to be."

"Halloween with Meg and her younger siblings wasn't real time?"

Lester rolled his eyes. Halloween had been fun and Meg and Artemis had stolen every bit of candy he actually liked from his bag.

"We didn't even leave the complex. Anyway, does anyone have a guitar? Mom wouldn't let me bring mine or the violin or the clarinet or - "

Artemis grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards one of the campfires. Lester wondered if he should keep a record of how many times he’d stumbled that day.

"Mom was right not to let you bring all that. Your suitcase was barely zipped up and you're only here for a week."

"I gotta keep up my skincare routine! I'm probably gonna break out again by the end of the week and once that starts up it’ll take forever to calm down again! Do you have any idea how--"

"You do not need a twenty-two step skincare routine when out camping !"

“Hey!”

The dogs growled at him.

“It’s only twelve!”

Notes:

* I feel so much better about this chapter now.

* After posting, I realized deleting and reposting removed the comments and there were some really lovely ones left. They meant a lot so thank you to those who commented. I'm sorry I didn't get back to you.

Chapter 8: Sunflowers and Sisters

Summary:

Apollo is doing better.

Lester realizes someone is missing.

Notes:

CW: Discussion of memory issues and non-graphic nightmares. Discussion of issues with eating related to declining health.

Apollo wanted to bang his head against the wall, but settled for a cry of “ Are you kidding me ?”

One of the dryads he hired had found a set of keys with a clicker on the keychain while cleaning. When he pressed the button on it to find what it belonged to he found the Sun Chariot could turn into a car.

He could have been in a Maserati or a Spyder or even a Tesla for the last few months instead of trying to wrestle the horses into doing what needed to be done. There was cruise control . There was a GPS bouncing off the satellites mortals had made to give him the most optimal route across the sky. There was an app to track dragon, phoenix, and airplane flight patterns. His life could have been so much easier this whole time.

He refused to acknowledge he'd likely forgotten the Sun Chariot could do that.

---

Thalia stood by Lester as he showed a pair of the younger Hunters how to make a fire using a magnifying glass.

It was simple, really. If the sun was bright enough and the magnifier big enough you just needed to work on focusing it and being patient. By focusing the light and waiting, one could get some sparks going and they had excellent kindling to start with.

A small trail of smoke came up where the light converged on the dry leaves. Then it got dark and a small lick of flame seared away at the edges. The two young Hunters laughed and took the magnifying glass from him when he offered it.

"Thanks, Lord Apollo!"

Lester kept himself from frowning. There was something off about the way they said his name, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe he misheard something.

"Sure! Anytime!" he said with a smile instead, "Just save some breakfast for me.”

He glanced across the campsite as the Hunters milled about doing the morning chores -- feeding the dogs, starting other fires to make breakfast, clearing away fallen leaves, collecting more kindling and firewood, setting up for games later in the day.

Something felt off, but he couldn't really tell what it was. Lester chalked it up to his imagination of his sister’s Mad Max Girl Gang on wild adventures not quite matching the reality he was seeing in front of him. They were at a stationary campsite, after all. The Hunters would resume roving around when he went back home later in the week.

"Not gonna lie, I thought that only worked in movies," Thalia said as the pair ran to the next campfire to try out the magnifying glass trick.

Lester shrugged.

"I thought so, too, then Meg convinced me to try it in the fire pit in the back yard with her glasses. Mom had to get the fire extinguisher and…"

He trailed off, something shifting in his mind. He could feel his mouth finally turn down in a frown as several other young Hunters gathered around the gleeful girls with the magnifying glass.

(The camp is emptier than it used to be.)

"You okay?"

Lester shook himself out of his reverie and looked up from where he was crouched by the growing fire.

"Yeah, just… I dunno. I feel like I'm forgetting something. It'll come back to me."

Thalia made a choking noise that morphed into a weird squawking sound which then devolved into a honking chortle.

"A step in that skincare routine of yours?" she choked out in a half-strangled gasp through what Lester was interpreting as a bad attempt at containing her laughter.

"Hey!" he snapped, both hands going to his freshly-moisturized cheeks, "It's not like you had to help with it!"

He and Artemis had gone to the river after dinner the previous night to collect extra water.

Well, Lester had collected and boiled the water while whining he could get it himself and being not-so-secretly pleased Artemis had gone with him. He'd already resigned himself to the idea his acne would flare up again by the week's end, but he wished everyone would stop talking about it. It'd taken months to find a routine that got it to calm down at all, much less clear up. He'd rather not think of all the trips to the store trying out everything his mother had found on sale in the skincare aisles.

"I know. I know," Thalia said once she got the squawks of strained laughter under control, "It's just… it's weird, you know? You having to worry about stuff like that. Everything comes so easy to you even now it's kind of funny you struggle with your skin of all things."

His face burned. Even if Lester knew he could get stuck in his head he was aware enough to know some stuff came easier for him than for others: music and writing and math. In PE it could be hit or miss but his aim when throwing a ball was near perfect and any wind instrument he picked up he had the lung capacity for. Despite the sheer volume of detentions he had for being “disruptive" his grades were impeccable.

"Not everything is easy," he grumbled, "I can't get a date no matter how hard I try."

Everyone he asked out at school had turned him down. Aster turned him down twice before Lester could even begin to consider a promposal.

"Trust me, that's a good thing.”

He shot Thalia the most withering look. She put her hands up defensively.

"Don't shoot the messenger. It’s not like anyone here is interested in dating. Kind of the whole schtick for joining the Hunters."

“Yeah, yeah. Mad Max Girl Gang. I get it,” he said and glanced towards where the moon had set. “When’s Artemis getting back?”

“Probably an hour or so. You want to have breakfast waiting for her?”

The niggling in the back of his mind was immediately pushed out of his thoughts by the idea of the look on his sister's face if he had breakfast ready and waiting for her.

“Absolutely.”

---

Getting an extra set of hands or three was something Apollo knew he should have done long ago. The Sun Palace was no longer a mess and Apollo didn't feel as guilty collapsing into bed when he finished his ride in the evening.

Well, collapsing into bed after drinking some nectar and eating some ambrosia. Artemis had been right to call him out on not eating enough before, even if part of his aversion was how odd it felt now. The flavor was always just off from what he felt it should be, but he did better afterward. A steadiness had returned to his mind and he felt more settled, more stable, when he went about his other duties now that he was making a point of nourishing himself.

Apollo supposed it was still a leftover remnant from being mortal for so long. It would get better soon. It had to.

One of those flowers -- hyacinths, he forced himself to remember. They were called hyacinths -- he had taking to tucking just behind his ear or in his belt or in the top button of his shirt as a reminder. He still couldn't find his old phone with all the art he’d commissioned, but he could at least remind himself Hyacinthus’s eyes had once been that lovely shade of violet.

However, he had more pleasant things to focus on than the gap where his beloved’s face and laughter and the softness of his kiss had once been.

Sunday with Meg. 

“You’re blond again,” she said, carefully picking out the notes to Our Last Summer .

Her fingers were now in the proper habit of the index and middle moving towards the sharps and flats while the rest moved for the natural notes for the efficiency of it. Her sense of tempo was getting better as well, even if she kept speeding up and slowing down in the wrong places. Sometimes she decided she didn’t like the song at all and instead played what felt right to her. Something Apollo greatly encouraged.

“Even if you’re still Lester."

Apollo rolled his eyes as he played out a baseline standing beside her. Being Lester with Meg felt more comfortable than being who he was on Olympus. Meg’s only expectation of him was to simply be here. Unlike Austin, Kayla, Will, and the rest of his children he had an ironclad excuse for why he could be beside her and did not need to worry about any potential repercussions for her.

He knew he would have to bring up a "similar" reward for his kids the next time the Council met. They had aided him directly in his success with no need for a prophecy, quest, or even him asking for help. Surely his father and the others would be able to agree on Apollo visiting the Camp more often.

“Artemis and I had a talk,” he said, “I hired some dryads to help me around the Sun Palace.”

"Is that what you two were fighting about?" Meg asked. Apollo’s rhythm faltered for two beats.

"We weren't fighting!"

Meg’s tempo was too slow. She was still familiarizing herself with the precise notes, but the melody of living for the day, worries far away, our last summer was there, if pitched too high.

"She chased you through the yard and then there was an eclipse that definitely hadn't been predicted before. Cassius would not shut up about it all week.”

Why did Meg have to be so sharp? He quietly hoped she and Artemis never sat down to compare notes about him. It would only spell his doom.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Meg. Artemis made me realize I needed help.”

She intentionally slammed her hands down on the keys. The cacophony that filled the room made Apollo wince. He wasn’t looking at her, but he could feel her glare burn into his skin.

“Lu said I shouldn’t get involved in this because I’m supposed to get to be a kid,” she said, “and goddy or Lester or not you’re a grown up. But -- “ she slammed on the keys again to emphasize the word.

Apollo was so proud of her growing penchant for drama.

“ -- I’ve seen you try to cover up stuff enough to know you’re hiding something and it’s big and important. So what is it?”

Meg was too smart for her own good. He could feel the phantom itch of zombifying poison just under his skin even though his blood ran gold instead of red now.

“I haven’t been feeling like myself since I got back to Olympus. That's all. I wasn’t eating enough or sleeping well.”

How could he explain Hyacinthus to her?

“I thought gods didn’t need to eat or sleep.”

“Ehhh…” he waved his hand in the air dismissively, “Depends on the god. When I was younger I used to get all my sleep for the year in during the winter at my mother’s house and my father needs it on occasion. Hephaestus needs it pretty regularly but he always fights against it because he likes to be at his forge working as long as he can. As for eating… usually ambrosia or nectar. Offerings can sustain us like food can, but actually sitting down to eat is a pleasant experience.”

“That’s why you usually eat with us when you visit?” Meg asked.

“Well, yes. And no. I like spending time with you. When I first came here after I recovered from the fight with Python I felt…” He thought back to the honeyed warmth of that afternoon, the ache in his chest like a day old bruise after a hard day's labor as he tried to imagine a future growing up again beside Meg and making a proper home for himself here in Aeithales.

“...I wanted to stay here,” he admitted, picking out a soft tune on the keys. “If I had to live out a mortal lifetime I’d want it to be here with you and Lu and the rest. I’d visit my mother, of course, and Artemis, and the others, but… I’d like to be able to see you grow up, see the person you become, see the sort of people your siblings grow into. If I didn’t have responsibilities…”

His notes faltered for just a moment.

“...I’ve been having nightmares,” Meg cut in, plucking out her own random notes, eyes trained on the keys, “When you’re not here. About… about everything. About Commodus and Caligula and… Jason and… and Nero… and so much else. Lu helps me, but...”

How did he miss this? He saw her every week. They talked constantly. He was teaching her to drive and taking her to dinners with his mother. How did the topic of nightmares not come up?

Probably the same reason he never told her about his exhaustion until now. Why did he and Meg have to be so alike at times?

Meg slammed the keys again. She had to stop doing that. The drama of it was ruined if it was done all the time.

"I told you about this before, Apollo! Twice! You forgot I asked out Joshua! You forgot about the Arrow! You keep mentioning you're forgetting stuff! I have nightmares about it, too! About one day you don’t show up and it’s either you forgot me or something bad happened to you and I’ll never see you again!"

He turned sharply to her. How could she think that? Even before he didn’t exactly have the best memory -- only so much could fit into a mortal mind -- but he remembered the important things. The things that mattered.

(But he forgot Hyacinthus.)

"Meg, I'd never forget about you."

He leaned over her, resting a hand on her cheek. Dear Meg was making a valiant effort not to scrunch up her face or let her lips wobble, but ultimately failed. Apollo knew the feeling of trying not to cry well. It was why he never bothered; It wasn't worth the energy.

“You’re family to me.”

“You already have a sister,” she snapped but didn’t draw away from him, “You’re famous for your sister!”

“I can have more than one sister. I actually do. It’s just… Artemis is special to me. As special as you are. If I haven’t forgotten her I’m not going to forget you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure.”

“You promise?”

He knew, deep down, he should not make a promise he was not sure he could keep. Someone had made enough of an impression on him to remember this, even if he couldn't recall who.

Apollo pulled the pretty purple flower from behind his ear and delicately rested it behind Meg's, nestled next to the arm of her cat-eyed glasses. Then he drew her into a hug. It would never be as good a hug as his mother’s could be, but with the way Meg clung to him and cried into his shoulder he hoped it was something close.

“I promise. For as long as I exist, I will never forget you. You're my sister, too.”

---

"Next time we do this we should bring Meg with us!" Lester said brightly as he helped the Hunters string their bows. The younger, newer Hunters were amusing themselves asking Lester for help and who was he to deny them? The older, more familiar ones kept their distance from him. A few looked at him with something sad he didn't want to think about.

Artemis sat beside him, leaning her chin on one hand as he handed the bow back to the girl only for another to take her place. Lester had unsuccessfully tried to pawn chores off whenever his sisters came to visit he knew what it looked like, but being able to do this small thing for someone made him feel like he was doing something important, something that mattered.

As Lester glanced across the girls in the campsite, he realized something still felt off. He knew it was creepy to be looking so closely at them. There was a reason he wasn’t supposed to be alone with anyone besides his sister and her lieutenants.

The thought of her lieutenants made the missing piece slot into place. It wasn't just that the Hunters were a smaller group than Lester expected. There was someone specific missing.

"Hey, Artemis?” he started, blue eyes roving over each girl in the distance looking for long dark hair and haughty eyes pointed to the stars, “Where's Zoë?"

He heard Artemis take in a sharp breath. After a long moment she replied.

"She's visiting other friends. Why do you ask?" 

When he looked at her, her expression was impassive and calm but he knew the truth by the set of her shoulders.

"I dunno. I thought she'd be around. You've known her half our lives and I haven't seen her in a while. Did you two have a fight?"

“No. No. She’s just not here right now. It’s a long story. I will tell you eventually.”

Some part of him had a feeling he knew the story, but the pieces wouldn’t come together.

He could have sworn he’d seen Zoë recently, but at the same time he realized he couldn’t remember her stopping by his mother’s house when Artemis came to visit. But she had been there at some point before…

Before what, he couldn’t be sure.

Artemis and Zoë had been the best of friends and known one another half their lives, but when had they met? They’d have been children if they’d known one another half their lives, but that wasn’t right. Lester couldn’t remember Zoë as a child and he was pretty sure Zoë was older than they were.

His head was starting to hurt.

“I know I’m not supposed to be by myself, but is it okay if I take a walk for a few minutes?”

“Are you sure, Apollo? I can go with you.”

He wanted her to was the thing, but he knew he wouldn’t be the best company. Not when he knew she was upset about something and not telling him and he was trying to piece together this whole Zoë thing for himself. Had he been mistaken about how long Artemis and her had been friends? Why was there something pressing at the back of his mind just so, screaming at him to hold off?

Lester stood from his spot.

“I’m getting a headache. I’m just gonna grab some aspirin from my suitcase and try to walk it off. If I’m not back in ten minutes then come after me. It’s almost lunch anyway.”

Notes:

* Famous last words, Lester.

Chapter 9: Pranks and Premonitions

Summary:

Lester has an accident.

Apollo has a premonition.

Notes:

CW: Discussion of death, off-screen injury, bullying regarding memory issues

Yosemite National Park was known for its waterfalls and great sequoias. Lester wasn’t fond of bodies of water outside the pool at his mother’s house, but the streams here were okay as long as he didn’t get closer than necessary. The Hunters had set up near the giant sequoias, unseen and unnoticed by any of the staff or rangers. Lester figured they had special permission and planned on asking Artemis to go exploring with him after lunch. Thalia had been great company, but she wasn’t Artemis or Meg.

His head still ached from earlier as he pondered the mystery of Zoë. Artemis promised to tell him the whole story eventually, but why would she get so tense about it? Did they have a fight about Lester coming to visit?

He didn’t want to cause problems for his sister and her best friend, but he really liked being out here in the woods and not cooped up in the house waiting for packages and visitors and phone calls. Something about the scent in the air and the sky over him felt calming in a way he couldn't put his finger on. The sheer sense of infinite freedom just being able to walk around by himself with no one watching him like a toddler. If he wanted to, he could go anywhere and no one could stop him. It had him humming a tune despite his headache and worry.

A bright voice and a warm hand pulling him close broke him out of his thoughts.

"Apollo! Just the man I wanted to see!"

The next thing Lester knew he was pressed tight against a warm body wearing a dress made of layers upon layers of netting. He could feel his entire face go hot as her arm settled over his shoulder.

"What is it, Bri?"

Her laughter was like the sound of a grenade going off. He clasped his hands together to keep from grabbing or shoving her. Bri, like all the other Hunters, was great and fun to be around, but something about the glint in her eye always made him nervous. She would sometimes shove him into the pool at home or say weird things that gave him a headache. There was a joke in there somewhere he knew he was the punchline of but had no idea where to begin figuring it out.

“You’ve been with us for almost a full day. Are you having a good time?” she asked.

Lester squirmed.

“Yeah. I get to hang out with Artemis and it’s nice being away from home. Plus the Hunters are being great.”

He should go back. He told Artemis to come look for him after ten minutes. He didn’t want to worry her more than she was. Even if Bri was one of her lieutenants, something in his mind screamed at him that being alone with her would be anything but fun no matter how she smiled and teased.

"Tell me, Apollo, what is it you hear when I tell you your name?"

That was a weird question.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your name. When I say Apollo what do you think I'm saying? Or when I call you Phoebus or Apollon? What is it I'm saying?"

"You just said my name like three separate times."

"Was it the same name?" she asked, squeezing his shoulder tighter. Lester couldn't help but squirm. Britomartis was really pretty and like right there .

It took everything in him not to stare at her smirking lips.

"Uh, I should head back," he said, pulling away. Her grasp on his shoulder tightened. "I'm not supposed to be alone with anyone but Artemis and Thalia an--"

"We're old friends, Apollo! And you're a grown man! You don't need to be coddled like a little demigod flailing about!"

He managed to pull himself away from her side. His stomach twisted. Part of him really did want to stay here with her. Despite how uncomfortable he always felt around her there was something in him that preened under the attention.

But he knew the conditions of being able to come here: he wasn't supposed to be alone with any of the Hunters but his sister and her lieutenants. Sure, Britomartis was one of those lieutenants, but something about the way she was talking made his ears go hot and his throat to tighten up. 

He needed to get back to the campground. If he broke the rules he might not be able to come back.

If he could be invited to come back maybe he’d be able to convince his mother to let him go to his cousins’ camp this summer.

He started to go back the way he came.

“I’m not a little ‘demigod’ or whatever and I can go back by mysel--”

When he blinked, Bri was in front of him. He almost walked right into her.

He hated it when she did that.

"What name do you hear when I call you Apollo?"

He huffed in frustration. Maybe if he answered the question she'd leave him alone.

"Am I supposed to hear something besides Lester?"

She tossed her head back and laughed.

Her laughter sent his heart pounding in interesting ways, but it also made his eyes burn. What was so funny about his name? Sure, Lester Papadopolous wasn't the most interesting or conventional name, but it was unique! Sort of. Everyone knew exactly who was being talked about when that name came up at school. He and Meg had made a ton of puns out of it. Papadopoulos rolled off his tongue ridiculously well.

(but sometimes it feels off key and his head hurts when he thinks too hard about it)

"I'm going back to camp. I promised Artemis," he declared, lifting his chin and looking her in the eye. He wanted no part of whatever dumb joke this was.

He moved to step around her. Bri grabbed his arm but he shook it off and marched forward, her laughter still ringing in his head.

Then his feet were yanked out from under him.

He most definitely did not scream a middle C as he was hoisted up by his feet, a net enclosing around him and bouncing him up. The world was upside down and for a moment he couldn’t move.

(Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?)

"Let me down!" 

(His feet are chained and it burns and burns and burns and he is fallingfallingfalling every part of his being is stripped away save for a promise.)

"Britomartis, let me down!" he cried, trying to kick off the rope encircling his feet. It bit into his skin and the blood rushed to his head as he swayed, trying to claw out of the net.

(Meg is hurt. Meg is hurt. Meg needs to be put in the chair to piece back her sanity.)

Laughter rang out like a gunshot.

"You finally got my name right! Here I was thinking you’d forgotten entirely!”

(He’s fallingfallingfalling through the clouds trailed by a ukulele, confused and unsure and unable to do anything, helplesshelplesshelpless and unsure of the future beyond the next five seconds and nothing but a great big wall of nothing behind him.)

“Let me down! What are you trying to do?!”

“Trying to jog your memory. You got my name right, Apollo! Do you remember the games we used to play?”

(Fallingfallingfalling as he scrabbles to keep the Snake from escaping His fate. All thought gone, all feeling gone, save for the sensation of falling, falling, falling over the edge and downdowndown.)

“This isn’t funny!” he cried as he struggled. He managed to get one foot out of the snare, but only further tangled himself in the net. The ground was above him and the sky was under him and he wasn't sure where he was. Meg -- where was Meg?!??!!!

(Where is she?! Where is she?! Where is she?!?!)

“Let me down. Now!”

“Oh, fine. I’ll cut you down. I suppose Lady Artemis will be upset if I try to do more. She’s been quite protective of you.”

He was falling.

Then there was darkness.

He thought he heard his sister call out for him.

---

He was in a dorm room with a boy with blond hair and striking blue eyes Lester saw in the mirror every day. He reminded Lester a lot of someone he thought he saw on television once. Someone who was friendly and kind and gave him cookies and milk and sang to him. Someone who’d probably let him sleep on his couch if he had nowhere else to go.

The boy’s hands were tight on his shoulders the same way Artemis’s were when she had something important to tell him. Lester found he could not look away.

This boy had vouched for him, spoken up for him. It meant more than Lester could comprehend. No one had ever stood up for him before. Not the way this boy had. Usually the fingers were pointed at him instead.

“Promise me one thing,” the boy said and Lester found himself hanging on every word, “Whatever happens, when you get back to Olympus, when you’re a god again, remember . Remember what it’s like to be human.”

Something inside him screamed he’d already broken one oath and who knew how many others. He shouldn’t make another promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

He felt sun warm hands rest over his heart. Lester realized with a start they were his own, callused and worn in a way he could and could not remember them being.

“I promise,” Apollo said, “I will try my utmost to remember my human experience.”

---

“Apollo…!”  

Apollo’s head whipped around upon hearing Artemis’s voice. His head ached in that grating way like he’d been used as a voice piece for prophecy, but he couldn’t remember the words beyond his sister calling his name in panic.

“You okay?” Hermes said in concern. If the other god wasn’t going to comment then perhaps there was no vocal component.

It wasn’t unusual for Hermes to show up at the Sun Palace with his mail and Apollo had decided to sort through it right then and there before getting something to eat and collapsing into bed. He pulled out a letter filigreed in gold with the sign of a thunderbolt on the front from the stack.

“Hermes, I really can’t,” Apollo said, pushing the unopened letter back into the other god’s hands. 

He couldn’t sense Artemis at the Sun Palace. When he reached out to her he found her calm and enjoying herself on a hunt. There was no reason to bother her with this right the . Not when he felt ready to collapse and was focusing on Hermes.

“It’s Dad,” Hermes insisted, “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I know I’ve been forgetful these last few months, but I remember this: I’m not going to see him alone. Whatever he wants to tell me he can say to me at the next Council Meeting. I refuse to be alone with him anymore.”

“Why?” Hermes asked.

Apollo sighed. He knew Hermes meant well, but this was something he had to maintain. He made a vow to himself and he had to keep it.

Things couldn't go back to how they used to be.

“I have my reasons. That’s all you need to know.”

---

He eased awake to the sound of distressed whispers. Judging by the warmth and the smell of honeysuckle and incense, he was in his sister’s tent. Hadn’t he been talking to Hermes about…?

…Lester couldn’t remember what Hermes had wanted to talk about.

“I shouldn’t have let him go by himself,” Artemis said from somewhere nearby, openly upset. Lester tried to protest, tried to tell her it was okay, he shouldn't have asked her to let him go by himself when she was clearly upset -- but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"He was with Britomartis,” Thalia said, voice tight, “None of us thought she'd try to prank him. She was there when we told everyone he was coming and what’s going on with him. We warned them his memory was messed up."

Lester knew he could be terrible with names and dates sometimes, but why would they need to warn the Hunters about it? He felt something soft against his cheek and managed to crack his eyes open to see someone had tucked him in with his cow. He felt his lips wobble, the image of the boy with blue eyes like his -- (like Thalia’s) -- in his mind.

(Jason. His name is Jason.)

His eyes burned with unshed tears. He felt so exhausted he didn’t want to move. It was warm in the tent, comfortable, the animal hides on the walls reminding him his (older? younger?) twin sister was nearby. His eyes drifted shut for a moment as Artemis kept talking in distressed tones to Thalia.

(He needs to tell Artemis)

---

“You’re certain?” Artemis asked him.

The second Hermes left, Apollo had gone to her side and nearly gotten shot. She’d been readt to yell at him about how he should know better when she’d seen the look on his face.

Her face only got more worried when he explained himself.

“I know I’ve been having problems, but I know what prophecy feels like. I heard you crying out my name in distress.”

“There’s nothing else besides that?” she asked, stern silver eyes searching his face.

Apollo shook his head.

“No. And I’m certain I’m not forgetting something about it.” Mostly certain. It was why he'd come the second he'd shooed Hermes off. “Something is going to happen involving us. I just don’t know what.”

---

He woke to the walls of the tent darkening. The sun must have been going down. His body ached, but he pulled himself out of his cot. There was an urgency driving him to talk to his sisters. Meg was with Lu and her other siblings in Palm Springs, but Artemis was… Diana was here…

He needed to check on Diana. He picked up his cow from the cot and headed outside. Thalia and his sister weren't at the camp, but somehow he just knew where to find Diana.

He headed into the woods, ignoring the curious calls of some of the Hunters.

The sun was setting a glorious shade of pink through the sequoias. The air was crisp. Lester wasn't sure how far he walked, but he could feel the magnetic pull towards his sister as sure and steady as the cycles of the moon.

He found Thalia and Diana talking at the base of a great sequioa. Both looked upset. Thalia was gesturing wildly while Diana stood stock still, her long auburn hair being pulled on a wind Lester couldn't feel. It eased his heart to see her safe, but he still approached slowly as to not startle them. Their discussion seemed important.

“Sometimes he's exactly how he used to be,” Diana was saying when Lester got close enough to hear, “It can be so easy to forget. Then he brings up things like Zoë and he’s forgotten she and many of the Hunters died and--”

Zoë was dead?!

A chill ran through him from his head down to his toes. He held his cow tight to his chest knowing if he even breathed too loud Diana would know he was there.

That was why Zoë wasn’t here? Why Diana said she’d explain eventually? He… he understood needing to grieve, but -- but --

Why had no one told him?

What else had no one been telling him?

Other girls had died, he realized. Girls under Diana's care. That's why the Hunters seemed so much smaller than he thought it'd be.

Most of the Hunters were so young, he thought with growing horror, around Meg's age, if not younger.

What had happened?

Was this why his mother had been so reluctant to let him out of her sight? Why it'd taken Mr. Brunner --

(Chiron. His name is Chiron, not Charles Brunner.)

-- convincing her for her to allow him here?

Girls had died. 

Children had died. 

Zoë had died.

(Once upon a time he had cousins -- were they cousins or? -- who were part of the Hunters.)

"Mother's going to be furious. I told her Apollo would be safe and he got hurt on his first day."

"--by Britomartis playing a prank," Thalia pointed out, "It's not your fault. It's not his fault. Neither of you did anything wrong."

Yet Diana sounded miserable when she said:

"Maybe Mother was right about trying this so soon. Maybe he should go home. We can try agai--"

Lester couldn't let her finish her sentence:

"You said I could stay!" he burst out.

Thalia and Diana both whipped towards him bows drawn. When they saw it was only him they lowered them.

He hugged his cow tight to his chest. If he was in front of anyone else he might be embarrassed by it, but there were more important things to worry about than his dignity.

"I did everything you asked me to, Diana," he pleaded, "I didn't go anywhere by myself! Not without your permission. I wasn't ever alone with the younger girls! I-I didn't try to flirt or hit on anyone! I didn't call anyone a weird nickname! I did everything you asked -- please!"

"Apollo -- "

He couldn't let her finish that thought. He couldn't.

"Bri said she wanted to talk to me and kept asking about my name for some dumb reason! That's all! I'm fine! It's fine!"

He couldn't go back. Not after one day. He was promised until Saturday and he did everything he was told. He followed the rules. The only one he broke he had Diana's permission for!

"Let me stay, please?" he asked, dropping to his knees in front of her, "I missed you, I missed this. I missed being outdoors exploring the woods with you. We haven't even gotten to really do that. Please let me stay?"

Diana hesitated, silver eyes looking towards the sky for a moment before looking down at him.

"Mother has to know what happened. You said you'd call her every day before sundown."

"So what? We don't have to tell her," he pleaded. He knew he was being an overdramatic ass again, but the idea of going back home so soon sickened him. He should be here.

"It can be a secret between us," he  tried again, "How is she going to find out if we don't tell her? Please?"

"Apollo -- no. We need to tell Mother."

Anger flared up in him. If his hands weren't nearlt strangling his cow he knew he'd probably be hitting something.

"I don't wanna go home. I can barely breathe when I'm there. I don't get to see you or Meg or our cousins. I want to stay here! If Mom finds out I'll be lucky if she even lets me go to school anymore. Please? I'm fine now. My head hurts a bit, but I'm fine!"

"Dude, you almost --" Thalia started to say. Diana raised a hand, silencing her.

"I can't keep this a secret from her, Apollo. Mother made me promise--"

A curse rose up in his throat and stung at his eyes. He knew what Diana meant when it came to Their Mother. Neither one had ever been able to deny Her when She asked something of them.

So no matter what, their mother would find out.

She'd force him to go home in the morning if not right then.

Because he couldn't be away from home for a full day without something terrible happening, even under Diana's watch.

It was his own fault. He shouldn't have asked for ten minutes by himself to walk off a headache.

He only made his sister's life harder.

"Apollo! Wait!"

He didn't care about his direction as long as it was Away. 

He didn't care if he was going deeper into the woods as the sun slipped below the horizon.

He didn't care he should have tried calling his mother before Diana could.

He knew he was being dramatic again, but he'd been lied to and Britomartis kept picking on him and now he'd be forced home early and he'd probably never get to see his cousins at their camp and --

There was a crack of thunder overhead.

-- he ran smack into someone, tripped over his own feet, and landed on his back. The ache was minimal and he looked up to see a man carefully smoothing down the jacket of his pinstripe suit.

“Hello, my son."

Notes:

*I am not sorry.

Chapter 10: Equinox

Summary:

Lester meets his father

Notes:

CW: Manipulation, depiction of abuse and electrocution, a good dose of taking advantage of someone with a shitty memory to gaslight them, and PJO!Zeus being PJO!Zeus.

The man in the clearing was tall. Tall like his mother. Tall in the way Artemis was even though her head only came up to his chin. Tall like Hermes and Aunt Hestia were.

He had the stormy blue eyes Lester saw in the mirror every day and wore a fine dark suit. Dark curls streaked with silver were slicked back into a tail and both his hands rested on the handle of a dark cane streaked in gold.

Lester instinctively shoved his cow in his pocket. Something told him this man would not take kindly to an almost-grown teenager carrying a stuffed animal with him. He’d had enough people making fun of him for one day.

"Boy," the man said, reaching a hand out. Lester flinched back from him. The man's stern expression faltered for a moment before he let his hand fall back onto his cane.

“Apollo,” he said in a gentler tone that did not sound right. Not quite out of tune, but like a piano strung wrong -- it hit the correct notes but did not match the key being played.

“Um, yes?” Lester slowly got to his feet.

"...you were hurt."

"Okay, and…? I'm fine now." At least he was pretty sure he was fine. His back hurt, his head ached despite the aspirin he had what was likely hours ago, and he was winded from sprinting away from Artemis and Thalia, but he felt fine.

He was fine.

"Something as simple as a fall shouldn't have hurt you."

"Well it did, but I'm fine now." After a nap. The part of his mind that had sparked alive when he took first aid and biology in school pointed out if his fall had made him pass out he probably should have been sent to a hospital. Something about that refused to slot into place.

"I'm so sorry this happened. I never meant for this to happen."

"...didn't mean for what to happen?"

For a moment the man just looked so tired, elderly. The same way his mother did at times but more worn and cracking about the edges. It struck some sad little broken thing held together by bubblegum and candy floss in Lester's chest and he found himself stepping closer.

"I-It's not your fault," he said quietly.

The man smiled and Lester felt that broken thing shatter into spun sugar.

(he'd have given anything for this man to smile at him like he mattered to the world. Why now? Why did it take this? Why is he smiling at him now when he’s like this?)

"No. No. Despite everything… it is. I see that now. I was the one who caused you to unravel. I was the one who could not fix you. But now I can make you into what you once were. I can make you great again, greater perhaps."

Tears burned in his eyes. Lester wasn't sure why he was crying. By all rights he shouldn't be. Not in front of this person he had just met in the middle of the woods of all things. Not someone from whom gentle tones didn't sound at all natural.

(a booming crack across the sky fit better)

A lone tear fell down his cheek. The man reached out gently ( -- it always started out gently -- ) and cupped his cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

(gentleness does not suit him)

"Look at you so diminished, so coddled when you have no reason to be, even as fragile as you are. You are a fine, capable young man when you want."

His thumb kept stroking his cheek. Lester didn't know what to think, what to say, his mind coming together and breaking apart as every moment passed under this man's stormy gaze. When he spoke again, any thought of breaking away fled from his mind despite a small voice screaming at him to runrunrunrun.

"We need to fix this, my son. Fix the mistake I made."

"You… you didn't do anything wrong."

The words taste like ash on his tongue, but Lester wasn’t sure why. What was there to even fix?

The smile on the man’s face certainly made him feel ill, the way it sharpened just so. Lester felt as small as Aunt Hestia only looked under his attention.

"You are upset and you are angry," the man said, looking him over. Something about that gaze made Lester’s insides squirm and his back to straighten even as he leaned into the not-supposed-to-be-gentle hand on his cheek. 

"...yeah,” he said hesitantly, “Who wouldn't be? I’m pretty sure you heard the yelling all the way from over here."

He had been overdramatic and gone running instead of talking things out. Again. Why couldn’t he ever keep his feelings in check? Sometimes Lester felt very much like a comet circling the solar system in a bright beautiful arc before finally falling into the Earth’s pull. Whether he’d burn up in the atmosphere before reaching the ground or cause devastation when he struck he didn’t know, but it frightened him all the same when his emotions got too big for him.

"I can help you," the man said. Lester’s eyes widened.

"I have never seen you before in my life. Why would you want to help me? How could you even help me?"

Something sad and angry went across the man's face for a fraction of a second. Lester kept very very still as the grip on his face tightened just so.

"You will need to go to Camp Half-Blood,” the man said, “Once there, you will pass from your mother’s care into ours. Then I will be able to fix you and return you to the glory you once had.”

It was like the world filled with white noise. There it was, right in front of him, the thing he had desperately wanted for as long as he could remember.

"...how do you know about Camp Half-Blood?"

Lester had never mentioned his cousins' ADHD camp by name outside his mother's house. It never really got brought up, but he was sure other people had to have known about it. How else would the kids get there? How else would Will and Nico live there year round?

"I am a patron, of sorts, there. I can make it so you can easily evade your sister and make it there. Once there… once I have returned you to your glory, I will expect the favor returned."

Everything in him yelled to go see (his children), screamed louder than the clanging of warning bells between his ears and the crashing thunder of terror running up his spine. Who cared about whatever glory or greatness this man spoke of?

Lester would get to see his cousins.

"Returned how?" he asked, not really caring despite the desperation in his voice.

"You will find out once you arrive. You've always been a clever boy. I'm sure you can find your way there."

"...what do I have to do?"

"Stay still."

The man ran his fingers through Lester’s curls -- 

(pulls them tight and then there was painpainpain arcing and bright through his entire being, rendering him unable to scream, unable to beg for mercy or help, unable to sob while the question of whywhywhywhy ran through his whole being) 

Lester could barely breathe, his shoulders going stiff as that worn hand ran down his cheek, his shoulder, grabbing tight to his upper arm. Fingers dug in hard even through his hoodie as he stared wide-eyed, unable to move. He hated himself and his fear -- that he couldn't do more than stand there as this man tugged him closer. He was better than this, wasn't he? Is this what he meant by Lester being less than he used to be?

Pain lanced up his arm -- bright and arcing. It lasted a thousand years and a second at the same time. His jaw clenched so hard his gums ached when it finally subsided.

To Lester's credit, he didn't collapse afterward, even if his whole body shook. When the man released him he rolled up his sleeve and stared.

Branded into his skin were branching gold streaks. His hand shook. He couldn’t feel his fingers, couldn’t even move them.

He could only stare numbly at it.

He felt sick to his stomach.

He could barely think.

"What… what did you…"

"A blessing: Your sister will be unable to track you now. Meet me at Camp Half-Blood, my son."

Lester blinked and the man was gone. 

He stared down at his arm and bit his lip, forcing his fingers closed.

It didn’t matter.

He would be fine.

He’d get to Camp Half-Blood.

He’d show his mother he didn’t need to be kept at her side.

He’d show Diana they didn’t need to lie to him to spare his feelings.

He’d get to see his cousins.

He just needed to find his way out of Yosemite first.

Notes:

*Yeah, when your sister takes you on a roadtrip courtesy of the Moon Chariot in the form of a minivan you wind up thinking distances are a looot shorter than they really are.

*On a more comedic note:
Zeus: He is an egotistic brat who will want to be returned to godhood at the first chance he gets and will go to Camp Half-Blood if I dangle the mere promise of it in front of him to get him truly within my grasp. I have to be delicate and persuasive in order to get him where I want so this will work, appeal to his need for power and glory, appeal to his love for me because who could ever forget the love of their father.
Lesterpollo: (instant record scratch at the words "Camp Half-Blood") YOU MEAN YOU'LL LET ME SEE MY COUSINS/KIDS?!?!?!!!? I'M ON BOARD!!!!! Zeus who???

*Apollo's going to get his own solo chapter down the line.

Chapter 11: Detachment and Determination

Summary:

Lester begins his journey.

Apollo contemplates a stuffed cow.

Despite what some stories say, gods did sleep. Not as often as mortals whose biology demanded it whether they wished to or not. Some, such as Hephastus, needed it for only a few moments every few years because his too-physical form demanded it of him. Some, such as Hypnos, could sleep for centuries at a time, rising only for a few moments to socialize or make himself more comfortable before returning to sleep.

When Apollo was quite young, still within his first century, he would sleep through entire winters. Artemis would laugh at him even as she heaped him with furs to keep comfortable and warm. For a number of years he’d wake as it neared spring with the red cow his mother gave him on one side and Artemis's matching golden deer on the other. For Apollo, sleep had rarely been truly restful until he was nearing a millenia thanks to serpentine nightmares slithering through his rest. It had been comforting to wake with such tokens from his family in his early life.

In his vast bed in the Sun Palace, Apollo slept as he now did nightly. The naiads had long been sent to their respective homes after tending to their duties for the day. The same soft red cow he’d had since true childhood mended over and over and over again was tight in his arms as he dreamt of his sister's voice crying out in distress.

---

“ Apollo !” 

Lester sucked in a breath, pulled from his stupor as he tugged his sleeve back over the golden fern-like pattern going up his arm. What had that man said? Diana wouldn’t be able to find him now?

He started walking. If the common sense solution to being lost in the woods was staying in one place so help could find you, then it was only logical to keep moving when one did not want to be found. ‘Blessing’ or no, Lester had no reason to think Diana wouldn't find him if she walked right into him.

“ Apollo !”

His stomach twisted as he kept going forward, eyes glancing up towards the moon to guide him eastward. He pulled his cow out of his pocket and tucked it under one arm as he heard his sister cry out for him again, her voice echoing in his brain and rippling down his spine to his feet. It was one thing to decide to do this after everything he'd just found out, but those familiar desperate calls made it hard to keep moving forward. Every one made him want to turn around, to run into his sister's arms and apologize and sooth her and tell her this wasn't his fault and he'll pack up his suitcase to go back to their mother's.

If he went through with this and didn’t make it to Camp Half-Blood, Lester knew his mother would never let him out of the house again. Diana might not ever let him camp with her again. His cousins might never answer the phone. Meg might never want piano lessons with him anymore.

But he had to do this. He could do this. That man called him clever even if Lester didn't feel the slightest bit clever. Just small and hollow and numb.

(whywhywhy now when he's like this?) 

“ Apollo ! Please! Come back!”

Lester practically threw himself into a bush, earning himself some scratches. Diana had sounded like she'd been right behind him, the echo of her footsteps sounding so close yet so far. Part of him wondered if he reached out he'd be able to touch her even though he couldn't see her.

He held his breath and shut his eyes. It took a few moments for the shivers to die down before he climbed out of the bush and kept walking. The world itself felt completely out of balance. He'd never not known when Diana was close by before, now it felt like she constantly haunted his steps. Every time he looked back he expected to see her stern silver eyes boring a hole in him and her mouth twisted into a grimace but she was not there despite her voice echoing through the sequoia.

His heart jumped in his throat as he stepped onto a road. Diana would be able to spot him if she came this way, but it also meant he’d find someone who could probably give him a ride if he followed it.

He hugged his cow to his chest as he looked up at the moon, a loose outline of plan forming in his mind.

Get out of Yosemite.

Make a phone call.

Figure out a ride to New York.

“Guess it’s you and me, Jason,” he said quietly to his cow.

He kept walking, heart pounding in his chest, fire behind his breastbone, his head still sparking from what just happened. He’d made a decision and he had to stick with it even if his arm was numb.

“ Apollo !”

Her voice was quieter, further away. Lester kept walking, a terrified thrill sparking across his mind. 

He was on his own now. No Mom's swirling silver eyes on the back of his neck. No Diana able to find him no matter what.

The silence was more unnerving than his sister's cries as he walked down the road. At least then he knew she was close by and he could turn back. With every step following the moon eastward he couldn't turn back.

"Sweet Caroline…" he sang softly.

---

The BAHM BAHM BAHM from the alarm on his new phone startled Apollo out of his now nightly slumber. A low groan escaped him, the cow held to his chest as he glared at the time of IV:XLV before forcing himself to sit up. 

He stared down at the toy for a long moment, idly worrying with the ear. How many times had it been torn and worn out over the millennia only for his mother or Artemis or himself or Aunt Hestia to patch it up? Did it even count as the same cow as the one his mother presented him with alongside Artemis’s soft deer several months after their birth? Forget the Ship of Theseus paradox, he mused as his mind cleared, it was the Cow of Apollo the mortals should use for that question.

He should start figuring out a gift for Artemis. The upcoming Solstice was for Olympus, but he usually commandeered the Christian Yule for time with his mother and sister. Then there was April, their birthday -- Artemis’s day, really.

...was their birthday in April? He couldn't recall really ever celebrating it.

His not-supposed-to-exist blood pressure spiked at that realization.

Apollo wasn’t aware of any more holes or gaps in his memory, but how could he know when the gaps needed to be pointed out to him? He’d been making a point of checking in at Camp Half-Blood more often to make sure he hadn’t forgotten any of his children. He still couldn’t remember when he’d been to Hong Kong to father Yan, but at least he hadn’t forgotten Yan existed. Gracie was enjoying arts and crafts. Kayla was going to try out for the Olympic Team soon. Austin was talking about music school. Nico and him had put their heads together to come up with nicknames for Nico to embarrass Will with.

These days he was halfway terrified when he heard new children showed up at Camp Half-Blood. It used to be a running joke if he hadn’t claimed his kids within a week of arriving they definitely weren’t his .

More importantly, he made a dying promise to family. He needed to make sure to keep it somehow, some way. What if he kept deteriorating? What if getting help around the Sun Palace and with his duties didn’t help his fatigue?

He needed to remember what it was to be mortal. It was a small fraction of why his Sundays with Meg were so important, but he promised her. He promised Jason.

Jason who had essentially died in his place. Jason whose death haunted his dreams when they weren't his twin's panicked cries.

He held up the cow and smiled softly at it. Little reminders and constants would help, surely.

“Jason. Your name is Jason now."

He was pretty sure he hadn’t talked to the toy as if it were alive since his age had been in the triple digits. It’d probably been stuffed with scraps of cloth instead of cotton back then and the eyes hadn't been buttons found in a random craft store because his mother could never resist a deal.

It'd been a comfort of sorts for most of his life, a constant. He used to joke it'd been his first offering and fitting it should come from his mother as Artemis's matching toy deer once had.

Now he’d use it as a way to remember his -- no, Thalia’s -- late brother and the promise he made. If his memory was going to get worse he needed to figure out how to hold onto what was important -- Meg and Artemis and his mother and Jason and his children.

He needed to make sure these dreams and visions of Artemis crying out would come to a better conclusion than he feared. He wished he knew more, but it would come in time. Now that he had some strength back he needed to discover what was actually happening to him.

The newly-dubbed Jason was reverently on his nightstand before Apollo got up. He needed to get ready to pull out the Sun Chariot and attend to his other duties. 

But first some proper breakfast, even if nectar and ambrosia were itching with every swallow.

Notes:

Happy New Year! Holidays and life have made me busy!

I also participated in the Temple of Apollo server's ABCs of Loving You event, which was a blast!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Chapter 12: Brothers and Ballads

Summary:

Apollo has dinner with Hermes.

Lester catches a ride.

Notes:

CW: Discussion of abuse and trauma. Descriptions of extreme hunger.

“You really can’t avoid Dad forever,” Hermes said, settling into the seat across from Apollo. Apollo stared intently at the menu as he felt stirrings in his stomach.

They were at a higher end restaurant. The type he’d normally reserve for the third date because Apollo wanted to show the other person what he could offer the other person. Quiet music played in the background and the room was darkened. Not the sort of place to hang out with your brother, but Hermes had asked and it’d been a while since Apollo had actually spent any real time with his brother. Not since…

...when was the last time he’d spent time with Hermes? Definitely before he started talking to that boy leading up to the Gigantomachy. The one who was his great-great-great grandson and would read the innards of stuffed toys.

What was his name again…?

“I don’t want to talk about Dad,” he said, forcing himself to focus on the present instead of trying to dissect the hole in his memory shaped like someone better left forgotten, “I want to talk about you and how you’ve been. How are George and Martha?”

“They’re on the mail route right now, but seriously, Apollo, you really should -- ”

Nothing on the menu looked good at all. Or rather, all of it did. Apollo could feel his stomach clench, a gaping maw he wasn’t sure he could escape, clawing up his sides as it churned and churned. The aroma of catfish from the next table and eggplant from another made his mouth simultaneously water and his throat close up. 

Why did he feel so hungry? He’d eaten three square meals when he’d visited Meg just the other day and partaking ambrosia and nectar just as, if not more, frequently for Artemis’s sake.

Why did even the idea of even a simple glass of water sound really good right then?

“I am serious,” Apollo said, turning the page of the menu, “I don’t want to talk about Dad anymore. We’ve had this discussion time and time again, Hermes. If he wants to see me alone, I need to know what it’s actually about beforehand.”

“He won’t tell me.” His brother leaned on his arms on the table, menu untouched. “Listen, he wouldn’t be this insistent if it wasn’t important. I can’t remember the last time he was this insistent about it. You really should talk to him and get it over with.”

Apollo finally looked up from the image of catfish fillet drizzled with garlic butter over rice to at his brother. Hermes looked relatively well put together. The ever present exhaustion from the last few years still apparent in the lines he could not quite get to leave his eyes and his hair graying.

“How’s May?”

Hermes winced. This tactic was probably the lowest of blows Apollo could bring up. If Apollo remembered right -- and he liked to think he wasn’t too far gone he forgot as much -- Hermes had been doing his best to care for and protect May Castellan ever since she’d attempted to…

Ah, a hole. Guilt joined the churning in his stomach. He’s pretty sure something about May’s situation was his fault, but dared not to voice it out loud.

“She’s doing well. Still thinks anyone who comes by is…. Well, she’s having days where she’s more lucid, more able to clean up after herself. She’s comfortable and that’s all I can ask for.

“You’re doing the best you can. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”

Hermes snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Funny, I remember saying the same to you a while ago.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. During the Giant War when everything was going down, before you and Artemis ran off to Delos to hide out from…. Well….”

Apollo sighed, eyes returning to the menu. Silence hung over them like a stormcloud.

When the waitress finally came by Apollo knew what he wanted to eat, even if it wasn’t why someone came to a restaurant like this. People came to nice restaurants like this for the sensory experience of it -- the presentation of food, the rich flavors, the artistry of the food, the endless courses and the music. It was all about the experience, the poetry of it. Apollo loved experiences like this.

But he knew exactly what his body wanted. He couldn’t meet the waitress’s eyes and was very aware of Hermes’s sharp gray eyes on him.

“Could I get a cheeseburger?” he asked in a small voice where normally he’d have all the confidence in the world. 

The waitress chuckled. In another lifetime, Apollo knew he’d be giving her a flirty little grin and leaning in and asking her for her name despite the nametag. She seemed interesting and sweet and something about her chuckle would have made him sit up straighter and pay attention. In another life he’d desperately want to get to know her.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, “Would you like fries with that, too? And a pickle on the side?”

A gurgling sound rose up from his stomach and Apollo felt his face heat up. Hermes gave him a look. Apollo ducked his head down towards the menu. He was a god. He shouldn’t have a stomach that could growl!

“Uh, sure. And a tall glass of ice water please?”

He distracted himself by folding and twisting his napkin into a what he hoped would eventually be a flower. Whatever Hermes ordered, he didn’t hear it. 

Better to address the other elephant in the room then.

“He just needs to give me a reason, Hermes. Any reason. Any valid reason. It’s not like I never see him. We were just at a meeting. He could have brought up whatever he wanted to talk about in front of everyone then.”

Hermes was silent.

“Hermes?”

His brother’s expression was tight. Tight in the way it was when he hadn’t checked on May for far too long.

“Apollo... You didn’t show up at the last meeting.”

“What? But I could have sworn -- when was this?”

“Last month. Are you mixing up dates now?”

Apollo’s body slumped like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. 

How could he forget about a meeting? How could he miss a meeting? The only times he’s ever missed a meeting had been when he’d been mortal or still sleeping through whole winters, roused only by his sister in time for the Solstice.

He missed a whole meeting because he forgot? Wasn’t he supposed to be getting better?

Did he forget a lesson with Meg? A visit to his mother? What else was he forgetting? 

“Apollo, this really isn’t like you. Despite how Dad complains, you’re probably the most dependable person I know, especially if Artemis is involved.”

“I’m doing better, though.”

Why was Hermes showing concern now? Apollo wasn’t sure he could trust his memory anymore, but he could remember feeling like Hermes didn’t care when he first got back from his Trials. No one besides Artemis had seemed to care. He remembered being so angry at Demeter on Meg’s behalf and being surprisingly touched Athena had bet on his success where even Apollo would have betted against himself.

His stomach growled loudly. Hermes raised a significant eyebrow and Apollo pointedly stared at a point on the wall just over his shoulder.

“Apollo...”

“Don’t.”

“This is going to get out of hand.”

“Don’t.”

“You really need to figure out --”

“I’m trying, okay?”

“How? What have you been doing to look into this?”

“I…”

“Listen, Apollo, maybe you should talk to Dad.”

“Hermes, I said -- “

The shock of his brother pounding his fist on the table made Apollo finally look him in the face.

“You’ve been off since you got back. He’s the one who’s turned you mortal before and he fixed you when Artemis brought you back.”

“Wait, what?”

“You didn’t know?”

Apollo ran his hand through his dark curls. What was he missing now? This was getting so frustrating.

“No, Artemis never mentioned that. What do you mean she brought me back?”

“We were watching the fight with Python.”

“I gathered as much.”

A phantom pain flared in his chest, just behind his breastbone as he thought of being on that damned ship. How closely had they watched then?

But Hermes was still continuing.

“You two eventually fell so deep we couldn’t watch anymore. Artemis… she….” Hermes made a helpless gesture, “Well, when we couldn’t get reception anymore she finally got angry.”

“Angry?”

That surprised him. Not the fact his sister could get angry but that she’d be furious on his behalf. The idea both made the pit in his stomach ache and his heart warm.

“She’d been on edge the entire time you were down here,” Hermes explained in a hush as if their father were standing over his shoulder, “Having her Hunters trail you the best she could without being obvious, going to your mom when she could to tell her what was going on. Pretty sure the Moon was out longer than it should be most nights so she could keep eyes on you whenever she could. When you called for her on Temple Hill she had already loaded the Moon Chariot. I’m pretty sure the reason it took so long to get there was she wanted to pick up her lieutenant along the way.”

“So when you and Python fell over the edge into our Uncle’s domain she couldn’t sit idly by anymore. Dad was pissed, but Artemis just stood up and marched out of the Throne room. Dad was yelling after her demanding to know where she was going, but she didn’t say a word. Just went straight down. Dad…. dad wasn’t happy. I’m pretty sure the only reason he hasn’t done anything to Artemis is the fact she managed to bring you back up.”

It was hard to tell if the pounding just behind his eyes was from a hunger-induced headache or tears. Artemis had done that? Artemis had gone down through the Underworld to the very edge of Chaos to bring him up? He vaguely recalled someone else down there whispering in his ear, but he knew it wasn’t Artemis. Frankly, there was a gap between trying to pull himself up and waking up on Olympus healthy, hale, and whole.

(Not whole. How is this existence whole?)

“All I’m saying is… Talk to Dad sometime? You and I both know he likes our sisters better than us, but…”

Hermes didn’t need to finish that sentence as he sat back. Apollo had never told him -- told anyone -- what happened behind closed doors, but he could imagine what a Zeus angry at Artemis for aiding Apollo against his wishes could do.

Apollo looked down at the shredded napkin in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the waitress approaching their table with their food.

“I’ll think about it."

 

---

Finding a way out of Yosemite had been easier than Lester thought it would be.

He'd followed the road and eventually found his way to one of the museums-slash-gift shops he’d wanted to see with Diana. When he very truthfully claimed to have gotten lost, the cashier called a ranger to give him a ride to the main grounds. From there, figuring out money for a phone call and fare for a ride into Fresno was a matter of using skills Lester had every confidence in.

His cow was set beside him on his spread out sweatshirt. The clapping of his hands gave him a steady beat.

Music of any kind always came easily to Lester, probably the easiest of anything he had dipped his toes into. Lester probably would have done choir at school if choir didn’t happen to be the same period as band class. He’d always appreciated how Mr. Dodds would press him for band, but Lester liked having an instrument in his hands too much if given the choice between the two.

He began to sing an old song he’d known for as long as he could remember, a song that often came from somewhere deep inside him. Singing it around his sisters usually made them sad, but here he could let go of any worry for their feelings.

It was a bittersweet ballad about a boy a few years younger than himself. One raised in the wilderness, favored by the unpleasable queen of the gods. A boy who lost himself but was loved. Who fought for the sake of everyone though he had everything stripped from him. In the end he gave up his life in the aid of an undeserving god’s quest, a god who would try his best to never forget the boy’s deeds and goodness.

Lester choked up, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, just like every time he sang that song. The last few bars always came out strangled, but he pushed through. People should know about the boy, he thought, even if they would never understand. 

Some people stopped just to look at him as he sang. A few people flipped some dollars or dropped some coins in front of his cow. One person in particular gave him an intent stare Lester looked away from so he could keep his place in the song. A small part of himself preened at the attention people paid him and it added confidence to his voice, making it clearer, louder, carrying further across the main grounds. There was something freeing in it, like he was in touch with some part of himself he couldn’t quite reach. Something tiny and raw and ancient.

Lester knew there was much more to the song than the part about the boy who died for the unworthy god, but it was just out of reach, just behind a film he could not scrape off no matter how he tried. His mother would sometimes find him writing the lyrics over and over and over again, trying to reach those words, but she didn’t know the rest of the song herself though she always told him it was lovely.

The crowd dispersed when Lester finally sang the final note. He counted out the money, just enough for what he needed -- he hoped.

First order of business: a couple snack cakes and a bottle of water to get food in him. Lester barely tasted the snack cakes he was so ravenous. Breakfast had been his last real meal.

The second order of business: a phone call. He got directed to a relic of a payphone and popped in some of his change.

A disgruntled voice picked up after three rings.

“Hey, Lily,” he said cheerfully.

“Lester?” his classmate said. He could almost see how her face scrunched up in groggy confusion in his mind’s eye. “Why are you calling me -- I know you’re a morning person, but this early is ridiculous -- and my name’s Liliane!”

“I know! I know! Sorry,” he said, twisting the cord of the phone in his hand. Something in his gut told him to look over his shoulder, but nothing out of the ordinary was there. Just other tourists like himself milling about in the California evening.

“Just… when you get a chance, can you talk to my mom?”

“Why can’t you talk to her?” Liliane snapped.

“Because I’m kind of doing something she won’t approve of and I’ll chicken out if I talk to her directly.” To put it mildly. Lester was risking being grounded for, like, ever if he spoke with her.

“You aren’t a baby,” Liliane snapped, “You’re perfectly capable of telling your mom no. Unless you’re doing something illegal.”

Lester wished he could believe that as fiercely as his classmate did. Instead he laughed, bright and cheery and probably far too loud for the hour in both timezones.

“No! No! I’m going to visit my cousins.”

“....why would that upset your mom?”

“Because I’m not supposed to see my cousins in person. It’s… It’s complicated, but I just need you to let her know I’m okay. Please?”

He heard rustling on the other end of the line. He guessed Liliane was probably sitting up in bed. It was after midnight over in Florida.

“Are you okay? Like, it was really weird you never went anywhere outside of school for family stuff, but…. Should I be worried? Are you in trouble?”

Crap. She was getting the wrong impression!

“No! No!” he said in a rush, “Mom’s great! She just worries!”

“Is this about your non-existent dad?”

A pinprick shock ran up his arm at the word ‘dad’. It was hard to even think about the golden fern-like marks up his arm meant to keep Diana from finding him.

He’d been keeping the sleeves of his hoodie pulled down. When he sang he’d avoided even glancing at it. Just looking at them made him feel sick and the thought of the tall man in the woods only served to...

A steadying breath then he continued, “I just have something I need to do. Just please. Tell Mom I’m okay next time you see her?”

“Fine,” Liliane bit out, “But you owe me big time for playing messenger.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, making a grand gesture with on hand even if Liliane couldn’t see it, “You will be greatly rewarded, oh Liliane Somners, greatest clarinet play--”

She hung up before he could finish his sentence. Lester hung up the phone and leaned his head against the cover as he tried to calm his racing heart. For a moment he was back in the woods with that strange man saying weird things.

Would he really manage to see his cousins?

He wanted his mom.

He wanted his sisters.

He wanted Hermes and Aunt Hestia.

What was he doing? What was this going to prove? Why did he listen to that guy at all? Why did he let him put these marks on him? Diana couldn’t find him, but did that mean he couldn’t find Diana? For as long as he could remember he could always find Diana, something pulling him to his sister whenever he wanted or needed her, even if he couldn’t always follow that draw. Could he not feel it because he’d imagined it? Was it the marks on his aching arm?

…but she’d not told him about Zoe. Maybe if he hadn’t run off at the slightest sign he’d get sent away she’d have explained herself?

But he’d made his decision. He had fare to get out of Yosemite and into town. The hardest part came when picking his ticket at the bus station in town:

Palm Springs or Las Vegas. 

Lester couldn’t remember the last time he visited Meg and Lu at their house. Palm Springs was closer, but Vegas was eastward and brought him a few steps closer to his cousins’ ADHD camp. Palm Springs meant seeing Meg and the surprised look he could picture on her face when the Sun rose and he was on her doorstep. She’d probably punch him in the arm and yell at him then bully him into helping Lu and her other siblings with breakfast even if all Lester could make halfway competently was pancakes. 

But if he went to Palm Springs, Lu would definitely call his mother within five minutes and he would never get this chance to go see his cousins again.

Buying the ticket for Vegas was physically painful. The ticket was a heavy weight in his hand. His heart was shredded and his mind numb, but he got on the bus.

As he settled in he swore he saw something strange about one of the passengers boarding. He could have sworn he’d seen them back in the park while he’d been singing. For just a split second it looked inhuman. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. 

It’d been the longest day of his life and close to midnight. 

It must be exhaustion.

He tucked his cow under his arm, rested his head against the glass, and let his eyes fall shut to finally get some sleep.

Notes:

Happily settled into my new place.
Time to get back on track, shall we?

Chapter 13: Quarry and Query

Summary:

Apollo questions his sister.

Lester is being followed.

Artemis tells Apollo a story.

“Diana!”

Lester jolted upright. People shushed him harshly and he clamped a hand over his mouth. His eyes burned with tears as he took in the dim lighting and slightly sour smell of the crowded bus. A growl next to him made him turn only to find a man with his head tilted back all the way over the headrest of his seat, snoring loudly. Pressure against his side made him look to see his cow squashed between himself and the window.

He was supposed to be in the extra cot in Diana’s tent, wasn’t he? Carefully, he pulled his cow onto his lap and smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles, trying to will down the shaking in his hands. Digging into his pockets he found a bus ticket to Vegas and a not insignificant amount of loose change. The vague impression of a song he knew since before he could remember rolled across his mind, one he could only ever recall the chorus of. Had he been singing earlier?

A familiar soreness was starting just under the skin of his cheek. He delicately touched the spot to find a firm bump just underneath. Great. His acne was going to flare up. He’d resigned himself to his acne flaring up by the end of the week, but he didn’t think it’d happen this soon. The date on the ticket said it had still been Tuesday.

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up dazed like this. It wouldn’t be the last. His mother had said he’d been prone to sleepwalking when he was younger, but he never remembered it.

One of his arms still prickled with pins and needles. Lester tried to rub some life into it only to see strange markings on his wrist. A bit of sparkle against his skin caught his attention.

Blue eyes went wide as he rolled up his sleeve. Fern-like markings, golden and sickly under the bus’s dim lighting, shined in a complex pattern up his arm. Through his fog of disorientation, it came back to him: Bri’s “prank”, waking up, finding Diana and Thalia talking, Zoe, begging to stay, running off.

The tall man in the woods.

The promise of Diana being unable to find him thanks to these fern-like markings.

He gently traced the edge of one, something in the back of his mind screaming. His sister wouldn’t find him, but he had to get to his cousins. One way or another.

“Diana…” he whispered quietly, heart sinking into his stomach. He pushed his sleeve back down and leaned back against his seat. There was no way he’d get more sleep. Once Lester was awake it was impossible to go back to sleep until he was exhausted. He watched the landscape pass by and quietly tried to hum the chorus of that song.

 

---

“Artemis!” 

With his belly full and mind cleared Apollo had gone straight to his sister. Hermes would be miffed about leaving him with both bill and tip, but Apollo couldn’t find it in himself to care. There were more pressing issues at hand.

“Artemis!”

His sister had defied their father for his sake.

“Artemis!”

His sister, though they’d been near-estranged for centuries, had gone into the depths of Tartarus for him, to the edge of chaos itself, and brought him back up.

“Artemis!”

If what Hermes said was true, she was on the knife’s edge with their father. The only thing keeping her safe was the fact their father favored his daughters over his sons. Something Apollo would never begrudge his sisters, divine and mortal alike.

The sound of her anguished voice calling out his name echoed back from the future.

“Artemis!” 

Apollo burst into the Hunters’ camp. The ones who had only been there for the last couple years turned to him with bows raised, the older ones rolled their eyes and carried on.

Reyna and Thalia looked unimpressed.

“It’s only me!” he said with the brightest grin he could muster, “Hi Thalia! Reyna, you’re looking well.”

The pair glanced at one another. Apollo could almost hear the silent conversation they had with the slight raise of a brow and a quirk of the lip. It was almost like looking at Artemis and Zoe. His heart squeezed at the reminder that if things continued, he might forget one of his sister’s closest friends. They’d known each other half their lives, even if she’d been Artemis’s friend and lieutenant.

Better to cross that bridge when he got to it.

The younger Hunters finally lowered their bows while the older ones returned to their business, but kept a wary eye on him. Something that Apollo, having been forced to be more aware of it, did not begrudge them for. Mortal stint or not, trust was something that took time to gain and he’d spent too long pushing his limits with those he cared for.

Thalia sighed and stepped forward, toying with a chain hanging from her pants. She was not the sister he was here to see, but a nice sight nonetheless.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Artemis.”

“Obviously. We could hear you yelling from a mile away.”

“I found out she went after me when I was fighting Python. I need to talk to her. Please?”

“You know you can’t just burst into camp like this,” Thalia said with amusement. Still, she turned and Apollo took it as his invitation to follow. He was the only man allowed to freely enter and leave his sister’s tent. All others were barred to him. Britomartis had taken such glee in setting up the doors of those tents to fling him precisely seven kilometers away if he went into the wrong one.

Artemis was lounging on her cot, absorbed in a manga. Apollo quirked his lips. He’d brought back a whole stack of manga from his long trip to Japan. Artemis would never admit out loud she’d gotten addicted to the one about the boy wishing to be King of the Pirates.

“Artemis?”

His sister sat up, startled for once. In the space between one blink and the next the stack of manga disappeared. Likely to under her cot. Apollo would know: under the bed was the best place to hide his diary.

“Apollo! What are you doing here?” she said, sitting up now. She must have been really absorbed in the volume if he’d actually been able to startle her. He heard Thalia snickering just behind him before the door to the tent fell shut and they were left to their privacy.

“I just had lunch with Hermes… he told me some things.”

Artemis’s shoulders stiffened. Not too perceptively, no, but he knew his sister well enough, even when they were estranged, that he could see the slight change to her posture. He hesitated for a moment. His desperation had brought him here, but now faced with the prospect he wasn’t sure. 

He swore he’d find answers. He needed to see this through. The first one was finding out what happened to him.

Apollo strode across the tent and sat down next to his sister. Their knees brushed, but Artemis didn’t draw away from him. It was a long moment before he spoke, staring into the smokeless fire warming the tent.

“Hermes told me about you coming to get me.”

Artemis was silent for a long moment, also staring into the fire. He understood her hesitance. The Muses had needed to restrain him once Artemis’s location had been discovered holding up the sky. Artemis yelled at him for it just after making Thalia her lieutenant. His father had later cited his interference as surely why the Quest had gone so wrong…

If he was remembering right. More and more Apollo was questioning his own recollection of events.

…but he had faith he wouldn’t forget his sister.

He focused back on Artemis as she finally answered his question.

“Why wouldn’t I, Apollo? You’d been through enough. Mother would have never forgiven anyone if you hadn’t come back. She was ready to storm Olympus on her own if you had died and I... I couldn’t bear the idea of losing anyone else dear to me.”

“I’m dear to you?”

She knocked her shoulder against his.

“As dear as a flea under my boot.”

“But I’m your flea!”

“I hate you!”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry it took you saving my neck from zombification to start telling you that again.”

Artemis finally looked up at him, stern silver eyes flashing.

“...you remember that?”

Apollo shrugged and withheld from slinging an arm around her.

“Things are a mess, but I do. I’m trying Artemis, I promise, but I need to find out what’s going on with me and I think finding out what happened will help. You came for me. Do you mind telling me the story?”

Artemis was silent for a long moment, then reached out for Apollo’s hand. He couldn’t help but stare. His sister had never been a cuddler. The only person she’d ever accept unprompted affection from was their mother and only because she gave the best hugs.

Stern silver eyes focused on the fire as she began to tell her story.

 

---

 

“Apollo!”

Artemis rose from her throne, eyes wide as the hologram of her brother tipped himself back into the abyss, dragging dreaded Python with him.

The last year must have been meant as her own punishment for secreting Apollo away to Delos. First being barred from any answers to Apollo’s whereabouts after the Gigantomachy, then watching these Trials but being unable to help directly. Worse was bearing the news about Apollo to their Mother once She had reformed and returned.

She took up her bow from where it leaned against her throne and strode towards the entryway.

“Artemis, what are you doing?” Zeus called, looking up from the hologram. Her father’s grip was white-knuckled on the edges of the dais, the only sign of his attempt at keeping calm. If Apollo failed, the Fates would not be able to keep up their weaving. If the Fates could not keep up their weaving, then there would be a gap where others could step in.

Artemis turned, stern silver eyes daring him to speak.

“I’m going to get Apollo."

“Daughter, he needs to do this himself,” Zeus said. Her grip tightened on her bow. It took every ounce of concentration to keep herself together.

“Hasn’t he done enough?” she said, voice as calm as her Uncle's seas at high tide, “When will it finally be enough?"

“He’s made it this far,” Athena said, storm grey eyes steady and sure where she stood across from their Father, “He’ll survive against Python.”

Artemis turned her eyes to her sister and tried not to spit.

“He almost died once -- he did die!”

Her and Apollo had always been able to find one another, no matter what, whether she was Artemis or Diana or any other facet that came to the fore over the millennia. After she’d carried the sky she learned their Father had found a way to keep Apollo from her, even if he’d done his best to get help.

Those three seconds in New Rome where her brother simply wasn’t had been the most terrifying of her four thousand and change years.

Now he was facing Python.

Her siblings, father, and stepmother had not heard the centuries of nightmares Python left behind. They had not been chased from prior to birth by that foul creature. One of her greatest regrets had always been not going after Apollo back then, even if she had not been much older than he.

Artemis eyed her fellow Olympians in turn. Few would look at her. Only Hera would look her in the eye.

“I’m going for him,” she said.

“You will do no such thing!” her father cried.

"Yes, she will," Hera said, drawing all eyes to her. Tall and regal, she rose from her throne and approached Artemis, ignoring her husband’s indignation.

"My champion died for him. If he dies now, Jason Grace’s death will be for nothing."

Artemis started when she felt a small hand on her wrist. Aunt Hestia held out Artemis's quiver, a familiar expression in her fiery eyes and the set of her shoulders.

"Go," Hera ordered, "As your Queen and stepmother, I order you: Go and bring Apollo back.”

Artemis nodded and set out, her father's offended cries echoing behind her.

In the next instant she was on the roof of the Empire State Building.

With the next step she was walking through the streets of New York.

Then across the ocean, the waves rising under her feet to be her stepping stones.

It was only moments before she was at the cave of Delphi. Already she could smell the acrid smoke of Python's presence.

Good. She was on the Hunt. She would not be deterred from Her Prey, even if Her Prey told bad haikus and worse limericks. He was Her Brother above all others. She would not let Him be taken from Her.

Down down down, she descended after him, twisting and slithering, a facsimile of a she-wolf chasing after a hare down the walls. For how long She tracked them She did not know. Not down here in the Pit and Beyond. Every moment was a moment Her Quarry was in danger, fighting for His Existence. Signs of Their struggle were prevalent everywhere from the broken rocks to the spilled water on the edge of the Styx as she ran along the bank, tracking the pair.

When She found the falls She did not hesitate. Every second counted. This would not be like New Rome where She was almost too late. Apollo was Hers -- her brother, her twin, her family, the person she’d known all her life, since before they were born, before they existed most likely. They shared a womb, shared lifetimes together, there were few secrets between them even if she wished he wouldn’t tell them all.

(She wishes they hadn’t become so estranged in the centuries leading up to the Titanomachy.)

She descended down, down, down, shedding physical form when necessary and becoming a burst of silver streaks zeroing in on one thing -- her other half. Her brother. He was fading, close to the edge. She could feel it in every fiber and atom. If she did not reach him, he would be gonegonegonegonegonegone.

(He'd been trying so hard to stay close to her, even if he'd been bad at it.)

She landed on the edge of chaos itself. She saw no being there, just the swirling mist of chaos itself. A slab of crystal protruded from the edge of the cliff from where She saw the signs of a struggle.

(She will make it up to him.)

Something golden glittered near the edge, pulling itself over before spilling over the crystal.

Her Prize.

“Apollo!”

She ran to him, nearly stepped into him as he collapsed on the edge. The need to get him to safety kept her from screaming in horror.

Her most beloved brother was nothing more than gilded threads of light, twining and twisting and spinning and shot through with violet. It held the vaguest shape of a young man, ever changing and and curling against the crystal beneath her feet.

Even in this state she would recognize her brother anywhere.

“Apollo!” she cried, kneeling beside him, hands hovering. 

First the mortality clearly making him lose his mind, then the flaying of his essence, and the dying, and now this? Stripped down to his very essence, barely clinging to existence, stripped of everything he had ever been and was and could be. Could he even think, was he even sentient? It frightened Artemis she had no idea.

Carefully, oh so carefully, she gathered him close. It was almost like holding him when he’d first been born, screaming and uncomfortable and so overwhelmed by the sounds and brightness of the world until it set in how the mind and body could be shifted to suit his needs. He’d quieted only when she’d held him, their mother too exhausted to sooth him in that moment.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, glancing up at the caverns above them.

Falling was easy.

Getting out was a different matter, even for a goddess such as she. It would take several days, her arrows piercing any who dared approach them. Monsters parted with every step Artemis made, unable and unwilling to cross her when she had the most prized of cargo in her arms.

Artemis would not be deterred.

When they reached the sunlight, Apollo finally stirred, if it could be called that. The vague sensation of his face turning to face the sun, and the tightening of his arms spilling over her shoulders as she carried him. She held him tighter, tight as she should have when they were both new to the world.

She leapt across the seas, stepped across the mountains, skipped between the clouds back to Olympus. She had Apollo back and now.

Artemis landed on her knees before her storming Father. Apollo spilled from her arms, across the floor despite her grasp on his coils and whirls to her chest. Her father’s expression changed strangely.

Artemis hated begging, yet there was little she would not do for Apollo.

“Please, My Lord! Help him!”

Zeus did not question her. He just gently, far more gently than she’d ever seen him be to any of his sons, took Apollo from her arms, golden light slipping through her fingers and coiling in a trail on the ground where he flowed from their father’s hands. Her Lord Father’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he stared at the gilded thing that was Her Twin.

He'd been the one to make him mortal. He had to be the one to make him whole again. He had done it before. Somehow. Some way. Her father had to be able to do it again. He had to!

“Please…” Artemis entreated him, hands clasped in front of her. Storm blue eyes looked between her and Apollo wide and Artemis did not dare say scared.

“I will help him,” he said so softly only Artemis could hear him.

“Thank you, Father,” she said, fighting down tears. Apollo had shed enough for both of them. He’d be upset if she dared cry for his sake.

Then her father and brother were gone. Artemis was left to wonder if it’d be another six months of secrecy and refusals to answer before she was told anything again.

She needed Apollo back again.

Hera came up beside her and squeezed her shoulder. Artemis stared up with wide silver eyes.

"Well done."

She could not recall a time her stepmother had looked at her so softly. Politely, yes. With tolerance, yes. With softness and any hint of kindness? No.

Aunt Hestia came to her other side, sitting on the ground beside her. After a moment, Artemis reached for her hand.

 

---

 

Apollo threw his arms around Artemis with such force they almost tumbled to the ground. Ugly sobbing had never been a foreign thing for him and he was not stopping now in the privacy of his sister’s tent when she had told him the kindest most wonderful and amazing and awesome thing she had ever done for him to date.

“Artemiiiis! I can’t believe you... You actually... For me?!"

Artemis swatted at his shoulder. With their current height difference, Apollo was wrapped tightly around her. She had to kick at his shin to get any kind of leverage as he cried against her.

"Apollo, get off of me! You’re going to get snot in my hair! Why wouldn't I --"

He crushed her even tighter to himself in a fierce hug and actually did press his face against her hair just because it’d annoy her.

"I-I thought -- with everything that happened -- you -- you --!"

It was hard to speak clearly with his throat raw and phlegmy from crying. Artemis came for him. She really came for him. He would have thought it was a sick joke from Hermes, but no. She had really truly actually came for him.

He hated to admit the whole fight was a blur to him now. The feeling of Python wrapped around him and squeezing to the point his ribs had started cracking was ingrained in him, forcing him to breathe deep whenever it would flash across the fog his mind was slowly reducing to. If his companion hadn't spoken up he might have truly been crushed. 

(...companion?)

He held Artemis out by her shoulders, expression narrowing into what was meant to be a severe frown he knew was ruined by his tears.

"What were you thinking?! You could have been trapped down there like I was!"

Artemis's eyes flashed storm-bright.

"You are my brother, my twin, my fellow Letoides! I will always find you, one way or another. I will always come for you! Don't you dare ever think I won't and don't ever think to ask it of me!"

"Artemis--"

She swatted his hands off his shoulders and stood from the cot.

"What if I hadn’t come for you? You could have still been unraveling until you were nothing! You could have been wandering the edge of chaos for eternity as that… that…"

Apollo knew firsthand how one avoided a topic and Artemis had spent the last while recounting what had happened in horrific detail. He would be the last to begrudge her not wanting to speak to him.

He watched her take up her silver bow from where it was set beside her stuffed deer.

"Now are you done crying over what has been done or are you going to go hunting with me?"

Apollo beamed. He had one of the best sisters in the world.

 

---

 

Lester didn’t feel good.

It wasn’t just the bus smelling weird and the rocky trip and his last meal being snack cakes hours ago and his back aching from sitting uncomfortably for hours twisted towards the window, eyes on the moon until the sky began to change into a lovely shade of peach with the rising of the sun.

He missed Diana.

It wasn’t like he was never going back home, but not knowing when he would see her made his stomach churn. Liliane had likely spoken to his mother by now and his mother in turn to Diana and Meg. Hopefully that made them worry less.

He didn't understand how it took barely a day to get from Tampa to Yosemite, but going to Vegas took several hours. Maybe Diana was just that skilled a driver? Her and the Hunters traveled all over. It'd make sense she knew a lot of shortcuts.

The bus jostled over a bump and Lester bit down on a whine. Why couldn't he have found someone to hitchhike with instead? Or been let on a better bus than this rickety thing? His head hurt. It smelled. There weren't even snacks!

Why couldn't there have been a bus going straight to New York?

The person in the seat beside him snored loudly and Lester got the distinct feeling of eyes on him again. It wasn't a feeling he was unfamiliar with -- until Diana and Thalia picked him up he always felt his mother's swirling silver eyes on him at all times.

It wasn't his mother's eyes though. Taking a moment to glance at the rest of the passengers he didn't see anyone paying him any mind.

Weird.

(he should be the focus of everyone's attention)

When they pulled in to Vegas, Lester got his answer. Las Vegas was relatively cool at sunrise and Lester enjoyed the excuse to keep his hoodie on. The marking on his arm was kind of cool, but even a glimpse of it made him uneasy.

Cow stuffed his pocket, he got off the bus and headed for the surprisingly not-dingey bathroom. Washing up in some way after being cramped on a smelly bus sounded nice, even if it wasn't a bubble bath in the huge tub at his mom's with the good conditioner for his curls. Some cool water on his face from the sink would make him feel better.

Lester studied his face in the mirror, gingerly touching the sore spot on his cheek where the first of what would be many zits was swelling under the skin. His reflection was always a surprise to him; dark curls one wrong breath away from frizzing, his jawline too soft, the minor scarring from before he and his mother found a skincare regimen to wrangle in his acne almost a year ago.

At least his eyes were always as expected, even if it often felt like the wrong face was looking out of the mirror.

Maybe it was a puberty thing.

A tall, wide fellow lumbered into the bathroom as he washed his hands. Lester thought nothing of it until they stopped barely a foot behind him.

“Uhhh… I’m almost done?” he said, glancing over his shoulder. It wasn’t like this was the only sink available.

There was something off about the person, something about their softly smiling expression making him stand a little straighter.

Lester moved to step out of his way when the person reached out with one long-nailed hand to grip his arm.

Despite himself, his first reaction was to freeze, eyes going wide. Was he seriously about to get mugged in a bus station bathroom?!

“You’re too obvious, Little Demigod.”

Demigod? What were they --

“Get off me!” he snapped, managing to wrench his arm out of their grip. He backed away, the person stalked after him in slow steady steps.

-- something about their expression felt familiar, something about their gaze --

“I think not,” they said as Lester backed away, “A demigod out alone? How about you come with me?”

-- this was who had been watching him on the bus!

“Yeah, no!” Lester bit out and ran for the door. He could figure out breakfast and the next leg of his trip later. He needed to get away now.

Notes:

* I could (and may in the future) make a whole fic out of Artemis going to retrieve Apollo from the edge of chaos. I had to reign myself from doing that here.

Chapter 14: Paramnesia and Pumpkin

Summary:

Apollo spends the night with his sister.

Lester is followed.

Notes:

CW for this chapter:

Strangulation.

For a kid of seventeen living the lifestyle he had, Lester wasn’t in terrible shape. In gym class, he wasn’t the last kid to finish a mile run (that was Aster), but he also wasn’t the kid who managed to cross the finish line first and make a show of lounging on the drying grass while the rest of the class limped across. Despite how long he spent in front of the mirror lamenting the softness of his belly and the love handles at his hips, Lester knew he wasn’t in terrible shape. His body just felt wrong to him, even if he couldn’t pinpoint why.

But thoughts of being in shape, school, and his body should have been the last thing on his mind.

Lester was booking it down the streets of Las Vegas, closely followed. The early springtime meant it wasn’t too hot just yet despite the rising of the sun and people starting to make their way out into the light.

Every time he looked over his shoulder that oh so calm person was walking towards him at what felt like a sedate pace. How they kept up, Lester had no idea. The look in their eye and the feeling of their nails digging into his arm what felt like both an eternity and moments ago were not a good sign of what would happen if they caught up.

They also called him a demigod.

Why did that word make something spark in the back of his head?

Lester shrieked when he nearly ran into a woman. He managed not to fall on his face as he veered down another street as she shouted rude words after him. Lester looked over his shoulder.

That person -- (is it even human?) -- was closer now.

Why did no one seem to notice he was being chased?

---

Apollo threw himself on the ground beside Artemis, laughing brightly. His shoulders ached wonderfully from exerting himself so much in pursuit of their joint quarry. Above them, the Sun was setting. Apollo smiled softly, hands resting on his stomach as he turned his head and glanced at Artemis taking a seat beside him.

“I should head back soon. Tend to the horses.”

“Why can’t you stay?”

“Uh, well…” he could feel his ears burning. “I’m probably going to need something to eat and go to bed once the horses are stabled.”

Artemis gave him a Look. This was why he hadn’t told her since their big talk a few weeks ago. He hated it when she had That Look, especially now that he knew how far she’d been willing to go for him. What had he ever done to deserve her as a sister?

“You’re still that tired? Even after getting help in the Sun Palace? After eating more regularly?”

“Yeah…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You missed that meeting because you were tired, didn’t you?”

What was the best answer? Let her believe it was exhaustion or that he had forgotten entirely? Both were terrible, but which one would make his sister worry less? He couldn’t lie to her, not after what he found out today.

Artemis's look got harder.

“You don't even want to go back to the Sun Palace, do you?”

“Not really.” That he was willing to admit. The Sun Palace was nice, yes, but it had never been home no matter how much he tried to decorate and redecorate. Home was more with the people he cared for -- his mother and sisters and children. Not that place.

“Then spend the night with us.”

“Uh, Artemis, I’m flattered, but you’re my siste--Ow! Ow!”

He curled away from her, laughing, hands over his head as she swatted at him.

He’d missed this ease they used to have around one another so much.

---

Three blocks later, Lester was convinced somehow, someway, no one could see the person following him. If they were seen, then everyone just got off the way. His side was starting to burn from running so hard, his calves burned, his feet ached. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d run so much and so far in his life.

A glance behind himself told him that asshole was still following, dark eyes intent on him.

“Help!” he yelled, but no one seemed to notice. How did no one notice? Where was the police station? He could ask -- but if he stopped running that thing would catch up and he did not want to give it a chance when it was so intent on catching him.

“Someone help!”

Why could no one hear him?!

---

“Here,” Artemis said, shoving a bowl of stew into Apollo’s hands. After stabling his horses, Artemis had bullied him to her tent where he could sleep in peace. He’d tried to explain he’d already had dinner with Hermes, but it seemed Artemis could be like their mother and Aunt Hestia with the insistence on eating their fill.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he told her as he sat down on the cot across from hers.

“You could have also said no.”

Apollo waved his spoon in the air in a dismissive gesture.

“Like I would say ever say no to you. You just need to give me that look and I’ll cower before the might of Artemis.”

“You got snot in my hair a couple hours ago despite my protests.”

“I was emotional!”

His whole body ached and he probably looked as weary as he felt. In the privacy of his sister’s tent Apollo had no problem letting it show. He knew he looked terrible in these moments, but Apollo had a feeling everyone would tell him he was overreacting if he complained.

“You were being an idiot.”

He rolled his eyes and took a bite of stew. A golden sheen on the surface told him there was some nectar in it. There must have been some kind of spice because it made his throat tingle, but otherwise it was hearty and delicious, making him think of when they were children of less than a century running through the wilderness together with barely any responsibilities.

“Is this Mom’s recipe?”

“Yes. You should go see her soon.”

Crap. When was the last time he visited his mother?!

---

The thing was catching up with him and Lester trying to lose him by turning down an alley had led him to being blocked in by a fence. The thing was gaining on him, he had no help, and he was pretty sure he heard the sound of hoofbeats or the lack of oxygen he couldn’t quite draw in was making him hear things.

Lester’s whole body felt like a wet noodle and he could barely breathe, but he only had one out: he grasped at the links and tried to kick up. Adrenaline was an amazing motivator the part of his brain that lit up when he started taking biology supplied. It could give someone bursts bursts of strength they didn’t know they had in dangerous situations. Lester managed to pull himself up and get himself to the top. Then he tried to tip himself over.

Except he lost his balance then and fell. At least he managed to land on his side. He would forever deny the pained sound that escaped him when he landed on the arm with pins-and-needles.

He painfully moved to get up to find himself face to face with the thing, the fence the only thing separating them.

The thing walked through the fence.

“What?” 

He took a step back as they walked towards him. Had his eyes played tricks on him? Had that thing really just walked through the fence? Was that why no one had seemed to notice someone was after him? There wasn’t even a hole or anything. It was like the fence hadn’t even existed to this thing.

Lester realized he’d made a fatal mistake when his back hit a wall. The thing reached for him again, mouth stretched into a too-wide smile as long-clawed fingers closed around his throat.

“This would have so much simpler if you hadn’t run, little demigod,” the thing said as it painfully lifted Lester by his throat.

 

---

“We should have a family dinner sometime!” Apollo said brightly as he finished his stew.

His throat ached, but he assumed it was due to whatever spice Artemis had used in it. He did ache a little less after eating.

Artemis had pulled out the volume of manga she’d been reading earlier while he ate. Sometimes simple moments like this were all he needed to feel connected to her. Artemis had always been the sort to bond by simply existing in the same space at someone and Apollo could sometimes understand that.

“A family dinner? With everyone on Olympus? I thought you didn’t like those. You’ve always tried to avoid them.”

“What? No!” He didn’t want to be anywhere near his father unless he had to.

(He might have to soon.)

“I meant you, me, Mom, and Meg,” he said, “It’s been a while since it was just us.”

Artemis gave him a strange look over the top of her manga. Had he really said something strange? Why wouldn’t he want to have dinner with his sisters and mother? Sure, things were confusing and weird, but he could see about that.

“We’ll see. Maybe when you next see Meg, you could bring her to Mother’s again?”

Apollo grinned as he settled himself on the cot. It’d be nice to have them all together again.

He had the best sisters in the world.

---

Everything was focused down to the pressure on Lester’s throat and the heat building in his lungs. Every swallow made the thing press harder. He tried to kick at it, but it did nothing. His fingers clawed at their wrist, but the thing was immobile and immutable and just kept grinning at him.

Why had it come after him? Was he really going to die like this? He wished he’d said good-bye to his sisters. He should have gone to see Meg instead. He would have liked to see her one last time.

He didn’t want the last thing he saw to be that overly patient smile or the sound of hoofbeats to be the last thing he heard.

The thing’s smile dropped and calm eyes widened. Something was protruding from its chest.

Lester didn’t get a chance to think about it. The hand around his throat let go and he dropped, gasping for air. The thing then burst into gold dust and left Lester hacking and wheezing. In front of him was a vaguely familiar white horse… with a horn on its head.

(he’s standing on a balcony, watching the sunset with his sister after she asks him for what would become the first of many presents)

“Pumpkin…?” he asked, staring up at the unicorn.

Pumpkin really was a unicorn. How had he never noticed that with how much Meg had talked abou--

Lester couldn't help the toothy grin coming across his face as he leaned over to see the ruins of the chain link fence.

There, with golden scimitars shining in her hands, in all her rhinestone-spectacled glory was his younger sister.

“Meg!”

It’d only been a few days since he’d last called her and almost a month since she’d come to his mother’s to visit, but her presence alone was a balm to his heart. He got painfully to his feet and ran to her. He nearly collapsed into a hug, face pressed against her shoulder. Meg yelped and nearly dropped her weapons.

Then he backed up, hands on her shoulders.

“What are you doing in Vegas?”

“What am I doing here?” she snapped, “What are you doing here?!”

“I’m going to see my cousins!”

“Well, how are we getting there, dummy?” she asked.

Lester felt tears fill his eyes. No questions about why, no deferments on being unable to go, no protests, no ‘we’ll sees’.

Just… ‘How are we getting there?’

If Meg’s hands weren’t full of swords, she would have shoved him off when he started bawling onto her shoulder.

Notes:

Me, screaming at friends the entire time writing this chapter:
"MEG IS HERE. MEG IS HERE. MEG IS HERE."
"Is the trope Deus ex Meg or Meg ex Machina?"
"MEEEEEEEEG!!!"
"At this point you aren't a true blue Sibling of Apollo until Lesterpollo has ugly sobbed uncontrollably on you."

Chapter 15: Mist and Misunderstanding

Summary:

Lester tries to remember.

Apollo sleeps in.

Notes:

Shout out to Punkflame for letting me bounce stuff off them and looking over snippets and passages for me. You rock!

“Pumpkin’s a unicorn.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Has Pumpkin always been a unicorn?”

“Yup!”

“ Where did you get a unicorn? ”

“You gave him to me.”

“I what?!”

They were walking down the street, Lester between Pumpkin and his sister. Meg’s golden scimitars had become crescent moon rings on her middle fingers when she realized what the weird lump in his hoodie pocket was. She had then immediately yanked Lester’s cow out of his pocket with no resistance. Lester had noticed the rings from time to time whenever she visited or he gave her lessons. Somehow the fact they turned into weaponry made some kind of sense as he turned the thought over in his mind.

It was like Pumpkin being a unicorn. It made too much sense, like how the sky was blue and his mother was almost twice his height and Aunt Hestia looked much younger than her age. At the same time, Lester’s head throbbed dully as he tried to reconcile it with Meg’s mentions of Pumpkin’s care whenever they spoke. He remembered giving advice on how to care for Pumpkin -- 

(he’s standing on a balcony next to Meg. With a laugh, he waves a hand for the drama of it all and Pumpkin walks onto the lawn out of thin air before reaching for her hand.)

-- but hadn’t Pumpkin just been a horse?

“How’d I get you a unicorn? I know Mom has a lot of money-- “ and would regularly slip twenties into his wallet when his sisters visited to enable his need to spoil them, “ --but there’s no way she could afford a unicorn.”

It should bother him more that unicorns are real, he thought, but how could he deny what was trotting alongside him? People’s eyes seemed to slide right over Pumpkin and, consequently, himself and Meg. Lester had a feeling they were more invisible next to Pumpkin than he’d ever been in his life.

“I dunno,” Meg said, “You asked me what I wanted, I asked for a unicorn, you did a goddy thing, and there was Pumpkin on the lawn.”

Lester glanced up at Pumpkin and gingerly patted the creature’s side. Everything Meg said rang true to him in a way that made something in his chest ache. He could almost see it: Meg at twelve with a smear of dirt on one cheek still round with baby fat and the rhinestones of her glasses twinkling in the setting sun. She’d had them replaced twice since then, but always the cat-eyed rhinestones. They’d been the first thing she’d been allowed to choose for herself and --

Her phrasing struck a chord in his mind.

“What do you mean by goddy thing?”

Meg sped up ahead then turned to face him. Lester and Pumpkin both stopped in their tracks. She tilted her head to the side. There was something fragile in her expression, an ache that amplified the one growing in his chest.

When Meg spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically small.

“...do you remember how we first met?”

Lester scoffed and opened his mouth to answer. What kind of question was that? He’d known his sister for as long as he could remember. Which was…

…his brow furrowed, his answer dying before he could voice it. He remembered falling… falling… falling… a great lot of nothing before. If he tried to think further back… there were vague shapes, fuzzy on the edges and ephemeral like the first soft layers of watercolor on the page. Some shapes were clearer than others -- his mother, Diana, his cousins -- but wasn’t that how everyone remembered their lives? 

But Meg asked him a question and he tried to think. When had he first met his sister? If his mother hadn’t brought her home, then when had they met? Wouldn’t it be when Zoë --

-- but Zoë and Meg had never met. And Zoë had died, but --

-- (he is four thousand six hundred and twelve and insistent he is also sixteen if he has to have a mortal age and his whole body aches and everything smells terrible) -- 

“I… I fell…?” he tried. But she was his sister. Why would he be falling when they first met? Wouldn’t the first time they met be when his mom brought… her… home…?

He briefly felt dizzy -- (he’s just gotten off a chariot and his mother is lifting him off his feet. She is the only person he knows who could look good while ugly sobbing and he’s introducing her to Meg) -- and leaned against Pumpkin.

The unicorn -- unicorn! -- stomped its foot in agitation, but one sharp look from his sister made the creature go still. It tossed its head and huffed, but let Lester rest his head against its flank as he tried to think it through.

Lester looked at his younger sister -- fifteen now -- and tried to picture her younger than twelve. Meg was taller and growing into herself in the way young women tended to with a determined set to her brow and her shoulders held in much the same way Diana and Thalia often held themselves. Yet there was a wobble to her lip Lester had seen in the mirror when looking at his own reflection bothered him too much.

“Yeah,” Meg stepped closer, a sort of hopeful look in her eyes. She moved his cow from under her arm to hug it to her chest. “You fell. Do you remember right after that?”

“I… I fell… and it smelled bad… and there were these guys?”

His stomach growled loudly right then. Meg snorted.

Maybe the dizziness was less trying to think too hard and more he hadn't eaten yet?

“Maybe we should discuss this over breakfast?" he suggested sheepishly, "How’d you find me anyway? Weren’t you in Palm Springs?”

“Artemis woke everyone at home up at like two in the morning demanding to know if you were there or not. Last time I saw her so freaked out was... Well, she said you’d run away after going camping which: rude. You two were in Yosemite without your mom and you didn’t say anything to me? I could have met up with you guys! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been wanting to talk to you without your mom around and the Mist messing with you?”

“Mist?” It sounded so familiar. He was sure he’d heard his mother and Diana discussing it at some point back when…

His head had to be hurting again due to what he was sure was hunger. He could feel his stomach churning now and he always hated the feeling. Sometimes Lester thought his love handles were less from something being wrong about his body and more from how he just hated the slightest feeling of hunger.

“Come on,” Meg said, straightening up a bit, “Let’s go get breakfast and you can tell me why Artemis and your mom can’t find you.”

---

It was warm and comfortable, the smell of honeysuckle filled the air and warm furs were wrapped around him. Apollo turned on his side, hugging the velvet of his sister's stuffed deer closed and refused to open his eyes. There was something nice about the softness of the time between truly awake and sleep, about allowing for the time to wake when he'd been so exhausted since returning to divinity.

He laid there for a long glorious moment, enjoying even the ache along his arms and across his shoulders from hunting with his sister for so long yesterday. The cot might be almost too small for him at his age and his sister’s height, but it was cozy and reminded him of childhood when they'd curl up on either side of their mother while she carefully stitched up the first iterations of his cow and her deer.

Eventually, he did have to get up. Apollo couldn’t quite remember the last time he woke up on time without needing his alarm, but he relished not feeling the weight of exhaustion on the spot between his shoulders pushing him down. He indulged in a luxurious stretch as he got up and made a point of making the cot up for Artemis, reverently tucking her deer in, knowing it’d amuse her.

Her tent was dim and the smokeless fire in its center was low. Apollo knew if it were any other person’s tent he’d be hard pressed not to put it out, but those fires had been a gift from their Aunt Hestia. He said his own little prayer to his Aunt and headed for the door. 

Today would be a good day. Maybe he’d finally be able to play the lyre again. Or bless a musical or six. 

Maybe he’d be able to say good-bye to his sister before he had to tend to his horses and take out the Sun Chariot.

The day was so full of possibility as he stepped into the mid-morning sunshine.

Apollo’s jaw hung as a few of the Hunters looked at him from their chores with understandably guarded looks. He looked at each one in turn then up at the sky. The sun was out.

The sun was out but he wasn’t driving the Sun Chariot.

Theoretically, he didn’t have to drive the Sun Chariot every day for the sun to rise. Other deities would take over as they had while he had been a mortal and traipsing across the United States with Meg from sea to shining sea. He’d covered for other Sun deities multiple timed over the course of his life so they could deal with other business even if his father always gave him a guarded look when he did. Even if no one could cover, there was always good old-fashioned astrophysics keeping the world spinning on its axis.

The true issue was his horses. If not treated right they could become unruly and rampage, leaving Earth scorched or frozen. Apollo remembered in the way he knew facts but not the experience, disaster followed when others tried to drive the Sun Chariot without proper experience. No, they had to be carefully navigated around his father’s weather, the dragons of other pantheons, and all sorts of other sky deities and wind spirits. If their schedule was not kept exact, it could be a disaster.

More importantly, it was one of the only things he’d been able to keep up with consistently since returning to godhood.

“Apollo?” came Thalia’s voice, snapping him out of his staring, “What’s wrong?”

“Who’s driving the Sun Chariot?” he asked desperately.

Thalia flinched. It took too long to drag up when they first met. He really should have known better, but it’d been so long since Artemis had called or written to him and she’d asked for help. He’d wanted her Hunters to say something nice about him instead of the endless and merciless teasing.

“Aren’t you?” Thalia asked, “I mean, there’s you here and there’s you up there, right?”

“I just woke up,” he said.

Thalia looked towards the sun with wide eyes.

“Where’s Artemis? Is she back from driving the Moon Chariot yet?”

“I don’t know. She should be soon.”

Apollo cursed. He pulled a hair tie from the air and tied up his mess of dark curls. Now that he was thinking of it, he could feel the lodestar that always directed him to his twin and he was not happy. He could feel the storm building in his expression.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Thalia asked.

“Finding out why Artemis took my Chariot!”

Following her in the Moon Chariot was out of the question: Diana was still driving it and his sister did not need more attention on her for another unscheduled eclipse. Apollo still hadn’t heard anything about consequences for that, but he also knew firsthand what their father was like behind closed doors.

What was supposed to be a good day was spent storming through the Sun Palace. His staff stayed out of his way as he tore through it. A dryad yelped when he yanked the shovel from their hands and mucked the stables himself. If he couldn’t drive his Chariot he’d at least get the stables cleaned himself. It didn’t matter if his arms and shoulders ached painfully or that it got hard to breathe. The anger was all-consuming.

He’d have let her drive the Sun Chariot if she’d asked! Had yesterday been about tricking him so she could steal it? Had the meal and offer of a bed been a ruse? Why would she do this? The more he tried to turn it over in his mind, the angrier he got, boiling like lava just under his skin.

He kicked a fencepost and yelped at the pain going up his leg. Ugh. He should’ve worn the steel toed boots, but he didn’t care as he yanked the bag of feed out of a nymph’s hands and filled the horses’ trough.

There was nothing more he could do at the stable. Trying to play music only enraged him further, his thoughts consumed by Artemis. He hated waiting, but Artemis would have no choice except to bring his horses back come the end of day. He gritted his teeth as he tried to tend to his other duties, unable to concentrate as he span off more instances who were pale imitations, distracted and collapsing as his rage ebbed and flared.

He was waiting at the stables when Artemis returned with the Sun Chariot. She looked pleased with herself and it was only because it was Artemis he did not throttle her or yank the reigns out of her hands.

“What were you thinking?!” he near-screamed at her. Artemis had the audacity to look shocked.

“You needed the rest.”

“You didn’t even tell me! Much less ask me! For all I knew someone had stolen the Chariot!”

“No one else could drive it safely,” Artemis insisted as she stepped down from the Chariot, “And you knew it was me the second you checked. Who else would be able to?”

“You still didn’t ask!” he cried. How could he explain it? Artemis clearly saw nothing wrong, but it felt almost like a violation. Those horses were his. He’d fought so hard to have the right to drive those horses once more. They were one of the only things he’d been able to keep up with.

“Why would I need to?” Artemis asked, “You needed the rest. You’ve done similar to me in the past!”

“That’s different -- “

“-- no it’s not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“How?”

Apollo was at a loss for words. Every example that came forward were more impressions and feelings than anything concrete, like how the statuary from when he was young was now stripped of all color. There were good intentions there, but the lack of solid fact pressed at him, made his head ache and his stomach churn. He felt as if steam should leave his ears and nose as he forced out the breath he’d been holding.

The horses startled as he punched the fence beside him and cursed the pain that ran up his arm. Artemis’s eyes were wide with concern.

“Apollo -- “

“Go!”

“Apollo, I didn’t mean to upset you--”

“--Well, you have. Go. I don’t want to see you right now. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I only meant --”

“I don’t care if you meant well. You didn’t ask me. You know better than this.”

“Apollo -- “

“I said LEAVE!”

It was a fight to get the horses back into their stables, but Apollo managed. In the end, today had been the most exhausting day yet.

Notes:

Me: Oh yeah, this is gonna be a relatively calm chapter to close out and set up a few things before the doozy chapter 16 is shaping up to be.

Also me: /aims a well-intentioned tactical nuke at Artemis and Apollo's relationship

Chapter 16: Solstice

Summary:

Apollo has a talk with his father

Notes:

Well, the content warnings for this chapter are a doozy:

PJO!Zeus being PJO!Zeus, gaslighting and manipulation, hair pulling, vomiting, and the effects of nectar on a mortal body making one do said vomiting.

But at least Apollo gets to pet a mercow?

The Solstice was upon them and for once in his too-long too-short life Apollo was actively trying to avoid attention.

It wasn’t just the usual people who would vie and fight for his attention -- his siblings, the Muses, the Demigod children his father, Hermes.

Apollo had outright avoided Artemis since that day. Diana had come forth and tried to speak with him on a few occasions, but he’d refused her. His sister had crossed a line she’d proven she knew better than time and time again and every time he looked at her all he wanted to do was scream. He vowed to himself once he calmed down he would do so, but not now. Not with the pain so fresh and new. Not with everything else he needed to figure out.

He knew, logically, his sister had meant well. Taking the Sun Chariot for a ride wasn’t something she’d do on a whim or for glory, but it still stung like a betrayal.

How else was he supposed to react? She’d turned off his phone. She didn’t ask him when she was the only person he would have said yes to. Hadn’t their previous talk about her concern for him showed her he’d listen if she’d brought it up? Hadn't confiding in her proved he'd listen to her counsel?

His children had been a joy to talk to. His current youngest, Gracie, had gifted him with a tissue paper flower she'd made in arts and crafts. The girl had laughed when he insisted on pinning it next to the laurels in his hair with a broad grin.

“Make more for me, won’t you?” he had asked, “I’d love to see what else you’ve made.”

Maybe if they sent him little gifts he wouldn’t forget them if things got worse.

Apollo had retreated to an alcove and wept when he realized he remembered their names correctly.

Then there was the meeting itself. 

He knew the routine of this. He could trust it. Just follow a tune in his head to the rhythm of five-seven-five. Agree with Dad on most things. Speak up for the kids. Anything to better the camp. Remind Hephaestus. Remind dear Aphrodite. Remember for them. Tune out everything. Everything but the present. The future can wait. His father can wait. Just get through the damn solstice. Eyes on the present.

By the end of it, his back had hurt from sitting so long. Strange, he couldn’t remember that being part of his usual winter exhaustion, but he shrugged it off. He was forgetting a lot lately and exhaustion was engraved into his non-existent bones. What was another tidbit in the mix?

He still had one last part of his routine to keep up when on Olympus. The best part.

Checking on Bessie.

Percy Jackson had no idea how much he had endeared Apollo to him when they’d first met. Not just by saving his sister when even Apollo couldn’t find her, but by insisting Olympus preserve this fine specimen, too. If Poseidon hadn’t already loved the boy fiercely enough to cause a war over it, Apollo would have adopted him on the spot.

Bessie swam in her enclosure, a large sphere of water Poseidon and Apollo both kept changing out the plants and decorations of to keep her happy as she swam happily. If Apollo didn’t have a schedule to keep, he would have gladly stayed by the enclosure for hours. Instead, he pulled a few carrots out of the air and stuck one into the water, waving it in hopes of Bessie swimming towards him.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he cooed, “I’ve got a little treat for you!”

Big beautiful eyes were on him as the noble beauty noticed the treats in his hand. He all but jumped in place with glee as she swam towards him, majestic and glorious as all bovines were.

He should start up another herd of cows, he decided. He did so miss them. He’d kept heards off and on. He’d had red ones and golden ones. Maybe this time he should seek out green ones. That would be amusing and the thought was adorable.

His free hand slipped into the sphere of water as Bessie began nibbling on her carrot to gentle pet along her snout. Such a sweet creature. He was so glad they didn’t have to sacrifice her. Why, he should ask Poseidon if he could perhaps bring Bessie back to the Sun Palace to care for and --

“Phoebus.”

Apollo’s could already feel his ears grow hot at the gruff voice of his father and tried to keep from curling in on himself.

No.

No no no no.

His father was the very last person he wanted to deal with. Not here. Not now. Not ever. 

He tried to reach out and see if there was anyone else in the room, but no. It was just the two of them alone together. Apollo could feel himself begin to break out into an icy sweat, dark curls clinging to the back of his neck. His breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribs. He had to fight to keep from freezing up knowing his father was only a few meters away and they were alone.

When it came to facing down terrifying fathers, dear Meg had been the one more equal to the task. Apollo didn’t think he had it in him to stand up to him.

“We agreed to speak after the meeting,” his father said. Apollo kept his eyes on Bessie happily eating her carrots, unaware of the distress of the person running gentle fingers along the side of her face.

When had he ever agreed to speak to Zeus alone, he wondered, trying to think back and finding nothing. Was this one of those moments where he’d said something -- anything -- in passing to avoid his father? Was this something he’d genuinely agreed to and forgot until told like hyacinth flowers and a talking arrow and that boy from New Rome?

Already he could feel his resolve crumbling in his chest.

He tried to think of Meg’s brave face in front of Nero, how fragile and terrified she’d been yet standing up to tell Nero “No!”. That image of her, armored in clothes she found uncomfortable and crowned with a haircut she hated and the spark of terror and determination in her eyes behind cat-eyed sunglasses was the first and foremost image of courage in his mind. Greater than Percy Jackson telling he and his fellow Olympians to be better, greater than Leo Valdez standing before him on Delos, greater than Jason Grace taking on a prophecy to save his best friend.

Apollo tried to will the word out, to find that same courage. He was over four thousand years old and he needed to do this -- for himself, for Meg, for Jason.

But the sound of Artemis’s voice crying out from the future came to his mind and he closed his eyes. If he said no, this could turn into an argument. If it turned into an argument the subject of his duties might come up. The stunt with the Moon Chariot and Artemis taking the Sun Chariot out of concern for him would come up.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not until he knew how to fix this.

“We can talk now,” he said, the best he could do as he wracked his mind. Bessie’s not-so-little enclosure was just off a hallway on full display. Anyone could walk by and see what was going on. As long as his father didn’t get him into a side room behind closed doors it couldn’t go too wrong, could it?

His father loomed behind him, but still at a respectable distance. Not quite in his fully godly form with no one mortal around, but the sense of tall and bright and arcing energy was there. Apollo pulled what little courage he had to focus instead on Bessie finishing her carrot and licking at his trembling hand.

“You’ve been slacking on your duties,” his father said in a tone of… Concern?

That didn’t sound right. Not from his father. It was like the note was right but the instrument was out of tune. Gentleness had never suited his father. His voice should be a booming crack across the sky. Especially when it came to this subject.

“I have been completing them diligently and thoroughly. The sun has always come back.”

“You missed the Equinox,” his father said.

“The first I’ve missed in at least three centuries,” he replied with more confidence than he felt. He used both hands to stroke his thumbs across Bessie’s cheeks and let out a little coo when she leaned into the affection. Ah, such a lovely creature. He’s glad they didn’t have to put her upon an altar instead.

“But I just spent half a year under punishment. I think I am allowed a small transgression.”

“Phoebus…” There was hesitation in his father’s voice. Funny. His father never hesitated, at least when it came to saying something he wanted to say.

He looked into Bessie’s large eyes, thought of Percy Jackson demanding she be protected, thought of Meg saying no to Nero, thought of Artemis going down to the edge of chaos to bring him back up.

He’ll talk to his sister after he gets away from their father, he decided.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, “I made it to this meeting and it went well, I think.”

“What did we discuss in the meeting?”

Now Apollo did go stiff, heat rising up from his belly. Everything about the meeting evaporated from his mind the same as it did whenever Apollo was put on the spot afterwards. He might have been having issues with his memory, but they were not so bad he would forget what they just talked about.

“Dad, you know what we discussed,” he said, “Aunt Hestia and Hephastus both keep track of the minutes.”

“But do you remember?”

Apollo fought not to roll his eyes even if his father couldn’t see his eyes while he had his back to him.

“Expansions to the Camp due to the need to build a safer route between New Rome and Camp Half-Blood for Demigods to traverse due to the Legion deciding it’d be best if younger recruits attend Camp Half-Blood for the summer, especially if they had been left to Lupa as young as Jason Grace was. There was also discussion of opening up Hera’s Cabin in his honor to take in any Unclaimed Children so Hermes’s could be let go of the burden with how many children are finding their way to the Camp now that a more concerted effort is being made for all gods to claim them.”

Zeus froze and Apollo mentally let out a deep breath. His father clearly hadn’t expected Apollo to keep up.

“I see… and what of the issue of your health lately?”

Ugh. Of course.

“I don’t see why that’s any of your concern.”

“Several people have expressed concern for you, Phoebus. I myself am among them.”

Apollo took a deep breath and looked into Bessie’s eyes as she nuzzled his hand for more carrots. He murmured an apology to her but did not turn to face his father.

“I’m aware. I’m working on it. I just need some time to figure it out.”

A large hand, warm and far too gentle, raked up into his hair and Apollo’s eyes went wide, his mind going back to times where a hand in his hair or on his shoulder turned into --

(pulls them tight and then there was painpainpain arcing and bright through his entire being, rendering him unable to scream, unable to beg for mercy or help, unable to sob while the question of whywhywhywhy ran through his whole being) 

-- something so much worse.

“You barely even look like yourself lately,” his father said, hand combing through Apollo’s curls, “I know you spent quite a bit of time in this form during your Trials, but is it not time to be the person you had preferred to be? Is it not time to return to who you are meant to be?”

His heart rabbited in his chest and he had to force himself to take his hands off Bessie to keep from hurting her. He felt as if something slimy was pouring down his back, caging him in, and he wanted to puke.

Someone had to walk by soon, wouldn’t they? Someone would wonder where he and his father were, surely? Someone -- anyone -- would come and see?

“But then, perhaps, this is my fault.”

“What?” he said, and winced as his voice cracked. What could possibly be his fault.

“I did not fix you correctly when your sister returned you to us. We can do it over again. This time the right way.”

Something inside him screamed NO.

NO.

Absolutely not.

But Apollo was so tired, everything in him screaming as his father lightly pulled on his hair, making Apollo look up and straight ahead to Bessie swimming happily in her enclosure. The feeling of his father’s breath in his hair made tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“It’ll only be but a moment.”

And then it was bright and searing.

Apollo screamed, despite himself. Struggled and tried to pull away. Something just behind his chest felt like it was loosening and Apollo remembered something from a movie he saw. It was all that could get clearly through his mind: SING

Solar plexus.

His father grunted as his elbow connected with his chest.

Instep.

His father yelped as Apollo’s foot stomped down on his.

Nose.

His father finally let go of his hair when he backhanded his face.

Groin.

Apollo ducked low and elbowed his father with it counted. Zeus let out a sound like a wounded animal, but Apollo only ran, stomach rolling and bile rising in his throat.

There were several glasses of nectar on a table. He picked one up as he ran by and into one of the gardens. Space. He needed to be in open space and the nectar would help with whatever his father had just attempted.

The nectar burned as he tried to chug it down and he went to his knees coughing. He hadn’t properly eaten that day and been on his throne and the Sun Chariot for twelve hours. His head swam, the feeling of a hand pulling at his curls finally making the bile rise up and into the bushes. It hurt and he kept coughing. The wild thought in his head that anyone could find him like this crashed through his head, but he didn’t care. As long as it wasn’t his father.

When his stomach finally settled he noticed something among the sick in the bush.

A streak of telltale red.

He felt his stomach twist and realized he shouldn't be able to feel it twist just so. His back and thighs shouldn’t hurt from sitting so long as they did. His throat shouldn’t be burning.

The thing about ambrosia and nectar was this: for gods it was food and nourishment. They could not starve without it, but they could weaken. For a demigod it was healing, but there was no true nourishment to be had. For a mortal it was as good as poison.

The constant hunger pangs, the mind-numbing exhaustion, the need to sleep… even his slowly failing memory.

He was becoming mortal.

Apollo sat heavily on the ground, feeling the hot sting of tears. He pounded a fist heavily against the column next to him and cursed at the pain that should not have run up his arm.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair at all. He did everything he was supposed to. Too many people died so he could reclaim his godhood. Don. Crest. Jason.

But then there was so much that happened -- his body shoved into a shell so mortal he actually bled red, his essence had been flayed, his three second death, being drawn raw by the Styx and struggling at the edge of chaos. He’d probably still be there if his sister hadn’t come for him.

It made sense, too much sense, for why this would happen. But he was supposed to do so much -- carry on for Jason Grace because he could not, make sure Percy Jackson's wishes would last beyond his cousin's lifetime.

Not that he could do any of that when he could barely hold himself together, when he could barely perform his duties, when he could barely remember actual meetings.

When he hadn't had the energy to even try!

He picked up a rock and flung it off in the distance.

It wasn't fair! If he was going to lose his godhood, his divinity, his mind, his existence, couldn't it have been in some poetic sacrifice?! How many times had he been willing to give it up in his lifetime? Why was it finally giving out when it hadn't been his choice?!

He bowed his head in his hands and wept. A year ago, maybe even a month ago, such wailing would have shook the Earth below. Not now. Maybe never again. He hadn't felt this small and alone since he'd first defeated Python, surrounded by his carcass, nothing more than a child barely two weeks old who had no control over how to bend his mind and body to his will.

Just like then, he wanted nothing more than his mother.

Notes:

/sips iced coffee

Showing my age here with the Miss Congeniality Reference.

As of right now, the fic is going to be on hiatus through the summer for several reasons:
1. The story has had me in a chokehold since I started posting it and with the busy season at work coming up I'm worried about burning out. If I put it on the back burner and come back later I'll have both fresh eyes and fresh motivation.
2. I have several one shots I'd like to write, some of them for certain people, and a couple fandom events such as the Summer Solstice Gift Exchange
3. I want to take the time to go back and re-edit earlier chapters for grammar and clarity as well as formatting before I start posting again.
4. This chapter is a veeeery good place to park it until I return to it.

Chapter 17: Waffles and Warmth

Summary:

Apollo sees his mother.

Lester has breakfast with his sister.

Notes:

Busy Season is officially OVER and with it I have the mental capacity to work on this fic in earnest.

HUZZAH! \o/

For those returning, I posted a recap on tumblr.

As for this chapter, I'm not going to lie: Apollo's side is heavy. I'm not going to even put on the cheerfully sadistic fanfic-author-persona. I had to stare at a wall for a bit while writing it.

On the flip side I'd say we're getting to stuff I'm excited about, but I say that about literally every chapter.

Enjoy! o/

Hyperborea Condominiums was a relatively quiet place. The name had gotten his mother laughing when she finally decided to immigrate to the United States in the forties and came across the development. His mother being his mother, she’d made quick work of turning it into a home for herself and building out her garden of moss, stones, and broken pottery. The high vaulted ceilings meant she didn’t need to stoop too often. Year by year her tiny condo expanded just so to accommodate the presence of a Titaness of her stature.

Apollo quietly watched his mother repair her neglected garden. His body ached, his throat was dry and aching from the bile and blood-that-should-not-be, and somehow he felt like he had even more tears to cry despite being exhausted.

But his mother was here. The part of him that would always be that too young child sobbing from within the coils of Python’s carcass would always feel safe in her presence.

(Should he know why he no longer heard the croaking chorus of frogs in her garden?)

“Phoebus? Sweetheart, you know you don’t need to lurk.”

Swirling silver eyes looked him over as he tried to smooth down his mess of dark curls. Try as he might, Apollo knew she would see something was wrong. His toga was still a mess though he’d tried to clean himself best he could before coming here. He’d done his best to heal his knuckles to keep anyone from spotting any telltale bruising. Yet he knew there was something she’d likely see in his posture or if he favored one side because he felt like his knees would give out at any second.

…Apollo couldn’t help but wonder if this constant discomfort -- the aches in his back, the gnawing and pain in his stomach, the ache up his arm and his knuckles from where he’d punched the column, the feeling of his skin being too tight and itching just so -- was how Hephaestus always felt. His brother couldn’t shift his form as wanted or needed as easily or comfortably as the rest of their divine siblings. This inability had made Hera turn her nose up at him, though she later regretted it.

Leto stood to her full height, drawing Apollo’s attention back to her. Her jeans were stained on the knees and her flaxen hair was already coming loose from where she had carefully braided it around her head.

Apollo took a step back from her. He…. he needed to eat, he knew. He needed water. He needed rest. Artemis’s voice what felt like ages ago echoed what the physician and nurse in him would recommend as an immediate solution to his current state before triaging everything else, like the fact that he was -- 

“Phoebus, what’s wrong?”

“I…”

If he were mortal, would his mother still want him? He had never doubted her love before and he knew he had no reason to think otherwise. Yet he’d always been the child she worried more about between himself and Artemis. The child she had seen break to the point he felt it unfair to both her and his sister. She’d been gone -- he couldn’t remember where or why and it made tears well up in his eyes because he somehow knew it was because of him and Artemis. When she’d come back she still had to worry about him because she’d come back to him being --

Hatred burned in his chest when the idea settled into his head his mother might come to hate him much like his stepmother had briefly hated Hephaestus.

“Did something happen at the Solstice?” she asked, “Did you and Artemis fight again?”

He took another step back.

“I’m fine,” he said and his mother gave him that look. The look where her eyes stilled for a moment and her smile strained just so. The one she’d given him when he was younger and woke after a full winter of nightmares or the recent argument with Artemis or after Hyacinthus had died and he begged his father for --

She didn’t believe him. 

That was fair.

Apollo wouldn’t believe himself.

“I… I’m just tired. It was a lot,” he admitted as he let his mother come close, long fingers smoothing down his curls for him. He let his hands drop to his sides, her presence already a balm to his aching heart. With his mother here, he couldn’t even bring himself to be ashamed at how tiny his voice sounded.

“Is it okay if I crash here?”

It wasn’t unusual, he thought, with how winter always exhausted him. The Solstice marked the beginning of Winter, Demeter going heavily into her yearly grief despite Persephone making it clear every single time she would not join her husband for the Solstice.

“Of course, Phoebus,” she said, leaning in to kiss his forehead like she had so many times before, “My guest room is always open to you.”

…funny, Apollo had many times in his four thousand and change years where he’d wanted to be mortal. For Meg, for Hyacinthus, for the sake of some of his children over the years, to escape from his father’s reach.

Now he was going to be mortal whether he wanted it or not.

That meant he would die. He had no idea if he would go to Uncle Hades’s domain or cease to be or what that would mean, but all he could focus on was this:

His mother was going to bury him.

Apollo was not unfamiliar with the feeling, having had so many children of his own. It had never once been easy. Even with his memory dwindling down the agony of it would rip through him whenever he was reminded of one of them.

But his mother only had himself and Artemis, having decided long ago her twins were enough for her. She’d been with others besides his father and even married a few times in her own much longer life. She’d buried grandchildren and great-grandchildren alongside him, but never her own children. Apollo choked up a bit and her eyes scrunched just so in concern.

It was the one pain she’d never experienced.

Now Apollo, who she had always worried more for, would force her to.

“There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry,” she said, no doubt remembering how ravenous he had been the few times he’d brought Meg with him and they’d had dinner together, “And I made up the bed with your favorite blankets.”

He couldn’t help flinching. He shouldn’t be taking up her guest room more than he had, but he had always been her most consistent guest. She used to joke that if he ever retired from sun godding he could always stay with her. Apollo could never admit how often he’d been tempted by the offer.

The only other people who’d used it were stray demigods. His mother had gifted him and Artemis with her former domain of Protector of the Youth when she decided to retire yet she still indulged, making her home a safe haven to any who needed shelter.

…she hadn’t had guests in the last few years. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes when he realized he couldn’t remember why. 

Apollo’s maybe-not-false heart thudded in his chest as his mother released him from her hold.

“I-I know. Thank you.”

Then, because he couldn’t remember the last time he told her: “I love you, Mom.”

---

Lester didn’t understand why no one would spare so much as a glance at Pumpkin as the horse -- unicorn! -- stood outside the little diner he and his sister had wandered into. Meg had just told him not to worry about it. Yet he didn’t understand how Pumpkin could just stand there, weaving around him without as if he were just a rather mundane statue.

Maybe it was like how he thought Pumpkin was just a horse until half an hour ago? How he just didn’t realize until he had no choice but to acknowledge it?

Yes, it was Las Vegas, but surely someone would comment on a random horse standing outside?

The waitress handed them menus and ice waters. Without missing a beat he picked up the menu and began reading off the breakfast options in his meager budget. Meg was dyslexic and her strong prescription sometimes made reading even more of a headache. Lester never minded reading things off to her, be it menus, prices, street signs, license plates, and subtitles. When he gave her piano lessons he didn’t bother trying to get her to learn to read sheet music because of it. As a result she had a good ear for the notes and was developing a healthy sense of rhythm, even if her tempo could be way too fast and jittery.

Here in this little diner across from his sister like when she visited it started to sink in beyond his aching head and churning stomach. He had really --

Lester forced himself to focus on the menu and Meg. How long had it been since it was just the pair of them? How long had it been since they could just exist without his mother hovering somewhere in the background?

(His mother is going to be so -- )

“...slap yourself.” Meg said, cutting off Lester’s recitation of the third kind of crepe they could have. 

He stared at her for a long moment. It wasn’t unusual for Meg to order him around like that. Normally he’d go along with it without much question, but did she seriously expect him to slap himself?

“...what?”

Something in her seemed to deflate and she resumed twisting her straw wrapper into a vaguely floral shape.

“I claim your service,” she said, glowering at the crinkling paper between her fingers. The angle and her glasses made her look like a young sparkly Edna Mode.

“What service?” Lester said after a long silence.

“Slap yourself,” she demanded again.

“Why do you want me to do that so badly?” Lester asked after a long moment of silence between them.

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, now outright shredding her straw wrapper between her fingers.

Lester sighed and set the menu down.

“Look, I’m sorry no one told you we would be in Yosemite. I wanted to see you, but we only got there, uh, day before yesterday?”

Meg gave him a dark look.

He wisely decided to look away from her ire and saw the prices for the tower of waffles he knew Meg would like best, full of chocolate and whipped cream and strawberries and sprinkles. It wasn’t on the deal page. Maybe he could get her the waffles and just some sausage for himself to keep his stomach from cramping? 

They were in Vegas. Maybe he could sing again for more money around lunch time? He still couldn’t believe that worked, but he wasn’t going to deny he had a great singing voice.

Coins and bills clattered on the table between them so he could count it out. Let’s see, always assume an extra five dollars, minimum, to account for taxes and tips and then --

“Is that really all you have?” Meg cut in, leaning over the table to count for herself, “I thought you were reading from the cheapest page because your mom was rubbing off on you.”

He flinched. Sure, his mother liked a good deal when out shopping, but she had regularly slipped money into his wallet to help him spoil his sisters. Now, he only had so much and had to think in the same terms as she did.

(His mother is going to be so -- )

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t grab your wallet?” Meg looked up at him, making him flinch back in embarrassment.

“No?”

“Or your phone?”

“No?”

“Well, what did  you bring with you?” Lester gestured over to his cow which Meg had plopped at the head of the table when they’d claimed it.

“...you seriously ran away from Artemis and you only brought Jason?”

“It’s not like it was planned!” he said, reaching for the cow defensively, “We… well…” He set the cow in front of him and worried one of the ears.

She sighed, pulling off her glasses and pinching her nose the exact same way Diana and his mother did when they thought he was being insufferable.

“What happened? Artemis only said she couldn’t find you and was hoping you’d made your way to my place. I’ve never seen her so freaked out!”

“I just… We…” he sighed, tipping his head back to focus on the fluorescent haze of lights above them. How could he explain to Meg? He found out Diana’s best friend was dead, a good chunk of the Hunters were dead, and he ran off...

Then a weird man in the woods told him to go see his cousins and made sure his sister wouldn’t be able to find him.

“...We fought… And I decided I should go see my cousins instead.”

It occurred to him then that Meg was fifteen and made it to Las Vegas on unicornback to find him. 

“Do Lu and Diana and Mom know you’re here?” he asked.

“Nope!” Meg said, popping the p.

“Then how did you find me?”

Meg shrugged. “I said I’d send Pumpkin to find you if you ever forgot a piano lesson and I figured if you were missing, I might as well make sure you didn’t forget.”

Something about that statement struck a bell in his mind.

("Sun. Day.")

Lester rubbed his chest where he could feel the phantom of Meg-at-twelve poking him in the chest. A crossroads lay out before him. The decent thing to do would be to feed his younger sister, get a bus ticket to Palm Springs and face his mother and sister’s combined wrath with Meg triumphant at having brought him back. It was nice to have her not question his desire to see his cousins, but would it count as kidnapping if he brought her with him?

(His mother is going to be so --)

The other was to continue, knowing he’d be grounded for a month, knowing his little sister was coming with him, but getting to see his cousins. That familiar ache and desperation dug in just under his skin. 

“I would have called when I got there.”

“That’ll take weeks!” Meg said.

“I got here in like a day when Diana drove. It’ll be longer on public transit, but -- “

“Artemis cheated and used the Moon Chariot.”

“It’s not cheating if she uses her van!”

“Chariot.”

“Van.”

“Chariot!”

“Van!”

“What was it last time she visited?” Meg asked, stopping Lester short. It was… it was the same car. He knew that much, but when he tried to think about it, he couldn’t quite picture a van. There were the reindeer and it was silver, but it was more like the logo across his hoodie than a van with a logo across it.

It made him sit back while Meg looked at him smugly. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the sparkling bedazzled monstrosity that was her own wallet. Lester’s jaw dropped as she pulled out a few twenties and tossed them on top of the pile of bills and coins he’d put onto the table.

“Unlike you, I planned ahead. I’m treating you for once!”

“I-I couldn’t -- “ His stomach decided to growl before he could finish his sentence. Satisfaction settled on his sister’s face.

(His mother is going to be so --)

It was after he ordered -- Meg talked him into getting the ridiculous pile of waffles to split -- Meg finally asked:

“So what was this fight even about?”

Lester pressed his face into his hands.

“....Zoë’s dead.”

“Who?”

“Zoë. My sister’s best friend? You had to have met her. We’ve know her like half our lives!”

“Half your life is like two thousand-ish years.”

“....more like eight or nine.”

Meg shook her head.

“Two thousand. You just don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t know… everything. I’ve known you longer like this than as well… who you were before, but….” Her expression melted and she reached over to pull his cow over to her. Lester let her and watched her sadly trace along the most recent stitches.

“...you and Artemis are more like four thousand years old. Your mom is waaaaaaay older. I’ve only known you for like three? Maybe four years now.”

Lester stared at her. She’d asked about when they met earlier and this was crazy. So crazy.

“But you’re my sister…”

Meg’s smile tightened just so, jewel bright eyes darkening and seemingly disappearing behind the shine of her lenses. When she spoke her voice was a small fragile thing. Lester reached across the table and rested his hand on her arm. She didn’t push him off, but she kept her eyes on his cow in her hands.

“I’m not really your sister,” she mumbled, “Technically, I’m your cousin, but with my mom and your parents, it doesn’t really matter? You said I might as well be your sister once, but, uh…”

She took in a deep breath.

“Lester, you used to be a god.”

All Lester could hear was white noise.

The sentence settled in his brain. Somehow it didn’t seem odd. In fact it slid past, settling deep into his bones. The idea in and of itself wasn’t weird or odd, like how Diana was sometimes Artemis and no matter what she was his sister or his mother was so much taller than everyone else and she had to stoop down. No, this didn’t shock him. It was like being told his hair was curly or his freckles were messy. It was simply a fact.

What upset him more, what ultimately broke him out of the fog where a tiny scared thing was crying, was this:

“Of course you’re my sister!” he cried, almost tipping the table as he stood up, “If I told you that before then it has to be true! In all the ways that matter, you’re my sister!”

His precious younger sister he was now responsible for because he run away and she had come after him. How could she not be his sister? A tightness built in his chest and tears burned in his eyes. Had he not been a good enough brother? Sure, they didn’t live together and he couldn’t remember when Mom had brought her home -- he couldn’t remember them ever actually living together if he took a moment to think about it -- but they had lived together at one point, right? He remembered being in her home in California! Eating there and meeting Lu and the other kids. He’d met Joshua a few times, Meg and the boy dancing around each other despite the obvious crushes on each other. He’d helped in her garden and the other people there -- 

-- hadn’t he? When was the last time he’d been there? The trip to Yosemite was his first trip to California, wasn’t it?

It was hard to breathe. He felt sick. The only thing keeping him from fleeing was his little sister right there in front of him looking at him with heartbreak in her eyes.

He took a breath so deep he felt the stretch along his ribs, the physicality of the feeling ground him. 

He forced himself to sit.

He couldn’t let Meg think -- 

He reached across the table.

“I don’t care about anything else. You’re my sister and I love you and I don’t care about the parental part of it. In all the ways that matter: you’re my sister. I don’t want to hear anything else about that, okay?”

Meg’s lip wobbled just so. She blinked her eyes rapidly and Lester reached over to get a napkin. His mind was still reeling, but it’d be an insult to Diana as an older sister if he didn’t try to be a good big brother. Meg took the napkin and loudly blew her nose.

“That’s what upsets you the most?! Not the god part?!” she cried.

“You’re kind of more important?” he said. He saw the waitress coming with their food and scratched the back of his neck. “I guess you can tell me the rest while we eat?”

Notes:

Sooooo over the course of writing this I found out Leto turned people into frogs once. It's become a pet fanon in my little circle of fandom friends pjo-verse Leto likes frogs and gardens around trying to attract them similar to how some gardens are planted around attracting bees and butterflies. If I had known this BEFORE I started the fic I would be doing a lot more with it than her liking them.

Some myths I've read/heard over the years have Leto as originally holding the mantle of Protector of the Youth before Artemis and Apollo. The ToA books mention Leto retired to Florida so I decided to interpret Leto "retiring" as her passing that title to her children. :)

You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying finally getting to dig more into Leto here.

Chapter 18: Dreaming and Deciding

Summary:

Lester reacts.

Apollo and his mother have breakfast.

Notes:

CW: Discussion of death, dying, and existential dread!

Apollo’s attempt at sleep was not restful. His mind could not let go of the truth hanging over him. It wasn’t quite like a prophecy -- those could easily be misinterpreted or misread or have multiple outcomes. This was a cold universal truth much like Urania’s beloved astrophysics: 

If Apollo were mortal, his mother would bury him. 

It could be a week, a month, a year, or a century later, but one day she would bury him.

He took in a deep enough breath he could feel the stretch of muscle between his ribs and the pull of his diaphragm. Everything under his skin felt slimy. Not like sweat, no -- he should probably shower -- but as if he were aware of the pull of bone and sinew and the flow of blood just under his skin.

How long had this truly been going on for? Did he qualify as a demigod now? Lower? He could still access many of his powers, but there were many demigods who had reached near god-like levels of power, like his brother Dionysus, like his first son Ascle….

He rolled onto his stomach and pulled the promised cow print blankets over his head followed by a pillow to block out even the smallest traces of light. The sounds of his mother’s laughter as she watched her late night shows soothed him and part of him longed to walk out there wrapped up in the blanket and sit with her. It used to be they had all the time in the world for such small simple things and now it would be something precious slipping through their fingers.

Would she still be able to laugh when she found out? Would she be angry at him? Would she be horrified with him?

No, he tried to tell himself, love and laughter were things he still found after losing children. He was sure of it. Otherwise he would have stopped after his first had died. It ached like being squeezed in Python’s coils to think of his mother without him, but she would still have Artemis, wouldn’t she?

Apollo turned over again, tossing the pillow against the other wall to hold in the pain sobbed trying to claw its way out of his throat. The day had been long and exhausting. He forced his eyes close to wait until morning. Even that, just laying down and resting, could help when one could not sleep and he now knew why he’d needed it so badly.

---

Lester trailed behind Meg as she strode with purpose down the street. Breakfast had been okay. Lester had to fight to keep from gorging himself while Meg enthusiastically recounted a tale as tall as the Empire State Building:

…Lester used to be a god. Somehow, he no longer was. His little sister didn’t know all the details.

Meg had never been one to lie to him. Lying by omission, sure. Exaggerate, yes. Make big theatrical gestures for dramatic effect he could not help but feel a swell of pride for? Enthusiastically so.

But she’d never outright lied to him. Even in that soft cloud his mind wandered through when he tried to think of her before twelve, he could not remember her outright lying to him.

Diana was a goddess. 

His mother was a titan.

Apparently his father -- whoever that was -- had also been a god and married?

Some part of him wasn’t surprised by Diana and himself being the product of an affair; the same way Diana being a goddess slotted easily into his mind as factual as the moon being luminous or the sky being blue. He had always known, but never thought about it. Like seeing Kayla draw back her bow or the arc of the constellation Artemis always looked to.

Once upon a time, he had been Apollo: God of Music, Poetry, Knowledge, the Sun, and so much more Lester’s head spun to think of it. He used to be golden and glorious and blew straw wrappers at his sister’s nose with no chance of missing even if the last was the only one Meg seemed to care about. He hadn’t had to worry about acne -- glancing at his reflection in a window told him that spot on his cheek was starting to get red and he could feel the dull ache of others beginning -- and he probably hadn’t had an issue getting a date.

It also brought up another issue as he looked to his sister’s back marching down the street.

“Do our cousins know?” 

Meg missed a step and almost tripped. She let him catch up, hugging his cow to her chest. Ah, he must have touched something sensitive.

“They’re not exactly your cousins?” Meg finally said, making Lester frown, “...but they’re important to you and they kinda know what’s happened?”

“...then who are they to me?”

It still had his mind reeling.

Will had known. Nico had known. Austin and Kayla had known. Yan and Gracie had known. Mr. Brunner and Mr. D had known.

Everyone had known. Why had no one told him? Was it like how Meg kept trying to say she wasn’t his sister? People so very dear to him, but not who he thought they were? Meg, he refused to entertain the idea she was anything but family, but his cousins?

They were still family, a petulant part of him insisted. They were! He refused to have that kind of conversation again. Out of all the things he had just found out, this one would be too much.

“You know what?” he said, cutting off Meg’s answer, “Don’t tell me. Not yet.”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging in a perfect o.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, “They’re family, plain and simple. It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”

Meg tilted her head to the side, looking down at his cow in her hands. She had a worn look around her eyes he had no doubt matched his. She probably needed rest. And snacks. So many snacks.

“You’re not reacting how I expected.”

“How’d you think I’d react?”

“I dunno. I’ve known you longer like this than a god. I thought… I thought you wouldn’t believe me or you’d be mad.”

“I am mad, but not at you. I guess I… I don’t know. Mom lied to me. Diana lied. Mr. Brunner. Hermes. I… I don’t know how to feel.”

“...what do you want to do now that you know?”

Lester looked up to the sky. He could feel himself already starting to sweat in the Las Vegas heat which meant his curls were going to be a nightmare in a few hours. Pomade and mousse were his best friends back in the humidity of Florida, but he hadn’t bothered with that when he’d been in Yosemite with Diana.

Who was a goddess.

There’s so much they need to talk about when they’re together again.

But what did he, Lester Papadopoulos, want?

--To curl up in a ball and cry.

--To punch and kick the nearest wall and scream at everyone for not telling him this sooner.

--To put Meg into a taxi and make her go back to Lu where she’d be safe.

--To call his mother directly and demand answers.

He traced one of the jagged lines under his hoodie’s sleeve, the skin under the markings still tingling and numb. The man who gave them to him was nothing more than a blur in his mind. He’d said some things, though Lester couldn’t quite remember what had been asked. Just that the markings would keep Diana from finding him and he’d be able to get to Camp.

What was it that he, Lester Papadopoulos, wanted most right then?

No matter how this shook out, he knew he’d be grounded for at least a month for running away. Maybe two. Possibly three for bringing Meg with him.

“I’m going to Camp.”

“You sure?”

He looked down at her and could feel his shoulders straighten just so as he made his decision.

“Yeah. I’ve gotten too far at this point to turn back now.”

Would his cousins want him around when they used to have Apollo, golden and glorious and capable of so many things? Was that why he hadn’t been allowed to go up there with them? They hadn't wanted to see him? Were all the phone calls and gifts just a courtesy for the sake of someone they used to know? A shadow of who he used to be?

Something inside him trembled through his very being.

One way or another he needed to see them with his own two eyes, to actually see Kayla draw her bow and hear Austin's music, to see Will's infirmary and Nico's growing Mythomagic collection.

He didn’t think they’d want him, Lester Papadopoulos. There was no way he’d ever be enough after they had the favor of a god. But he needed to see them one last time.

"Okay then,” Meg said, her cheshire grin growing a little too wide, “I’m gonna hotwire us a car."

"Where and when did you learn how to hotwire a car?"

"Frank and Hazel taught me when we stayed in New Rome!"

"What?!"

Lester had a feeling the whole way to New York would be like that.

---

Apollo was woken from his sleep by ‘la cucaracha’ banged on his guest room door.

“Phoebus, sweetheart?” came his mother’s voice, while Apollo groped for the missing pillow, “It’s almost time for you to get up.”

Apollo decided to pull the blankets over his head.

He didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant facing his mother. Getting up meant hours in the sun chariot, even if his ‘shifts’ would be shorter for the next few months. Getting up meant facing what the pain in his stomach and the ache in his lower back actually meant. Getting up meant having to think. He didn’t want to get up. He refused!

But if he didn’t get up then his mother would question him and the idea of telling her anything chilled him to the core. Even if the horses could be turned into a car with cruise control or chase plague spirits or clean the Sun Palace and so many other things he could just delegate delegate delegate into oblivion…. 

No one could face his mother for him.

He peeled back the cow print blankets, feeling the ache between his shoulders as he sat up and the dull pain up his calves as his feet touched the ground. How had he managed to face the day before?

Well, he was a god and could almost-infinitely multitask. If he’d known it’d end so soon he might have enjoyed that ability more even if that number of alternate selves at once made it hard to keep track of things and harder to think. If one did it too much they became not much more than an automaton with no personality.

He managed to will on some decent clothes and headed into the living room. Just a hoodie and jeans despite the humidity outside, sue him. A single soft lamp lit the living room in the pre-dawn light. A singular frog croaked outside and it made his heart somersault in his chest.

His mother’s table was set for the two of them. She was just setting out a plate of pancakes in his place next to her, alongside some ambrosia salad.

“I could have set the table,” he insisted softly, feeling a lump in his throat.

“I know, but you’ve been struggling lately,” Leto said as she set out the bottle of nectar she kept in the fridge.

“...you’re not worried?” he ventured.

“Of course I’m worried.” She bent low to look into the fridge as he let himself fall into his chair. “I can’t think of anyone who isn’t.”

“But… I can look after myself.”

“I know, but… if I had been here… maybe I could have helped more,” his mother said, finally sitting next to him and pouring some orange juice.

The pancakes were warm and filling. It took what energy he had not to scarf them down, but he felt much better than the previous night. His stomach wasn’t rolling as much and his throat didn’t feel so raw. Mostly he was tired.

He was so tired of being tired. Instead, he focused on what he hoped he could do -- ease his mother’s worry.

“You did what you could, Mama,” he said as he very deliberately ate his pancakes, “It’s not like Artemis and I would have wanted you to fight Typhon or Gaea with us.”

His mother’s eyebrows raised just so, swirling silver eyes focused on him.

“Phoebus, do you remember where I’ve been?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart...” she started and sighed, reaching over to tuck one of his dark curls behind his ear, “It’s not important. I know you’re mad at your sister right now. She meant well. But you know you’re not alone, right? My home will always be open to you and your sister. And I’ll always look after you, even if you’re well into adulthood.”

It took everything in him to keep from breaking down right then and there.

Luckily for him, his mother changed the subject:

“You and Meg will be spending Christmas here, right?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I wanted to invite her, but I wasn’t sure if it’d be appropriate. She gets along so well with Artemis and she’s such a good girl. And… I think the three of us all know what it’s like to be in uncomfortable situations with family. Something she might appreciate being around.”

Right. Apollo just recalled most of his mother’s family had sided with Kronos and was down in Tartarus. Between that and his father’s side of the family being up on Olympus, the greater part of the last century dealing with a prophecy over them all and his own antics, things could be awkward. He, his mother, and Artemis had appropriated Christmas as a day for themselves to have time as just their own little family. 

Something warm in his chest built up at the idea of Meg joining them. It’d be nice to have his youngest sister with them.

“I can check. It’ll be her first real Christmas since she was small.”

“I’m sure it is, but she’ll be fine. And the rest of us haven’t been together for some time.”

“What do you mean?” Apollo asked.

“Well… the Wars, of course,” Leto said, waving a hand. Apollo had waved off important things enough to know what it looked like.

“No, it wasn’t just the Wars. I remember Artemis and I managed something, but… I don’t know if you were there… I got Artemis a… I think I brought her some manga from my trip to Japan. The one about the rubber pirate. She really likes it.”

“Yes, she does. She was talking about wanting to get a straw hat the last time she was here.”

“...we didn’t celebrate last year…” Apollo noted as he tried to think it through, stirring around the bits and pieces of pancake on his plate.

“No…” his mother said slowly, hesitant, “We didn’t.”

“We were busy, but the year before…” Truthfully, there was still that gap from the past year, between Gaea’s awakening and falling… he couldn’t remember why he’d been falling, but the year before that…

“Mom… were you here the year before?”

His mother's back went ramrod straight. It reminded him of how, even as they are now, she was at least twice his height on most days.

“It’s not important,” she said, waving a hand.

“No, it... Artemis and I were busy, and we were barely talking… Things hadn’t been good between us for a few decades… She and Diana had been arguing, too… I think? But... you weren’t here...” he said, feeling like he was on the edge of something.

“It doesn’t matter, Phoebus,” she said.

“It does, though,” he said, insistent, “Am I remembering right? We have Christmas here every year because you’re barred from Olympus. So why wouldn’t you be here for Christmas?”

“Phoebus, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But, Mom, why wouldn’t you -- “

“Phoebus, listen to me…” and there it was, his attention instantly drawn to her so hard it almost hurt. Funny, it never felt so forceful before. His Mother looked at him with wide eyes, Her hand going over Her mouth, silver eyes swirling brightly. She searched his expression for a long moment. He didn’t need to see Her expression to know Her lips were trembling.

“Nevermind, Phoebus,” she continued after a long moment and everything in him relaxed.

His head ached terribly. How much had he drunk last night?

…had he imbibed anything at all?

“Finish up your breakfast. I’ll pack you a lunch before you go get the Chariot out, all right?”

“Yeah,” Apollo said, unsure for a long moment, disoriented. He couldn’t remember feeling like this… except he could. Back when his little sister….

He leaned forward and dragged his hands across his face.

Warm hands wrapped around him from behind.

(He is four days and six years and twelve years and a thousand and fifty-four years and four thousand and ten years old at the same time and he is ugly sobbing in terrified relief in someone’s arms at having stopped the thing that had tried to hurt them all.)

“I’m sorry,” his mother said quietly, her head on his shoulder, “I didn’t mean to do that to you. You’re an adult now, even if you don’t feel like one to me. I know you’re having trouble, but could you do me a favor?”

He nodded his head, feeling the fog lift from his mind.

“Please, remember you’ll always have a home with me?”

“I will.”

Notes:

/CLAWS MY WAY TO THE EDGE OF THE HILL

The way the Ao3 curse tried to get me. The way the last few weeks have been a rollercoaster.

I'm not going into detail for my sanity, but I am proud I got this chapter out on pure spite!

Hope everyone had a good time! Next up, ROAD TRIP! ROAD TRIP! ROAD TRIP!

Chapter 19: Rest and Roadtrips

Summary:

Apollo dreams of a roadtrip.

Lester realizes he can, in fact, drive.

Notes:

/shoves the stone that is the ao3 curse back down the hill to continue the Sisyphean task of writing fic once more.

No content warnings this time. Just set up for the next few chapters. Enjoy!

Alone in the Palace of the Sun, golden Apollo laid dreaming.

Exhaustion was his constant companion, apathy kept him from rising.

One day, he would no longer exist and on that day everyone he loved would weep.

He didn’t know what to do.

---

Lester could not remember feeling so terrifyingly proud and proudly terrified as when his sister found a gray Toyota Camry with an unlocked passenger door, crawl inside, and proceed to pull herself under the steering wheel to get to work hotwiring it. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by anything after what Meg had told him at the diner, but it was still jarring. Running away from home would have been bad enough, but wouldn’t grand theft auto draw attention to them?

Besides that, when had Frank and Hazel taught her how to hotwire a car? Why? It made something catch onto a thread in his brain as he tried to remember them meeting. Hazel was a relative of Nico’s, a sweet girl who adored horses as much as Meg and had a quick wit about her. Frank was Lester’s equally sweet cousin who was one of the bravest people he’d ever met, his hugs were almost as good as his own mother’s, his skills with a bow almost on par with Kayla’s and his cooking close to Aunt Hestia’s. When he last saw them…

…Lester scrunched his brows as he tried to follow that thought.

When had he last seen Frank and Hazel in the flesh? When was the last time he called or wrote them?

Maybe the next time he got a hold of a phone, he should try.

He set his cow on the roof of the car and leaned back against the door, looking casual and trying not to sweat as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Wearing a black hoodie in the desert was a terrible idea. He was already sticky with sweat and his curls were sticking terribly to his face. He had no doubt he’d get some kind of heat stroke soon. The idea of the air conditioning once the car was ready was a wonderful thought. Maybe a couple popsicles. He almost wished for Diana to come dump a bucket of water under his head.

How had he been a Sun God once upon a time when he was longing for his mother’s pool and an ice cream sundae and someone pretty fanning him and telling him he’s the best thing in the world?

The smug cry of triumph made Lester jump more than the engine roaring to life as Meg crawled out from under the steering wheel. A cheshire grin was on her face as she yanked his arm and then pulled him into the car.

“Come on! You’re driving!”

And what else could Lester do under the tyrannical reign of his younger sister but to obey?

“Why am I driving?”

“‘Cause you always drove!” Meg said as she grabbed his cow off the roof and climbed between the seats to sprawl out in the back, “And you can argue you forgot your wallet! Which you did!”

Lester had no argument for that logic as he settled into the driver’s seat.

He stared at the wheel like it was a fifth dimensional bomb. Why did Meg think he could drive of all things? His mother had idly talked about Lester getting his learner’s permit, but it hadn’t seemed too exciting when he knew any car she might get for him would be used only to go between home and school. He’d been secretly hoping Diana would teach him in her van -- chariot! Meg’s voice echoes in his head -- but it looked like he would be figuring this out for himself.

Except as he turned on the engine and changed the gear, it felt very much like when he picked up an instrument. As his sister sprawled out behind him, he somehow knew what to do. The perfect angle to turn the wheel, the exact amount of pressure to put on the gas and the brakes, the timing and rhythm of going back and forth like the bow across the strings of a cello.

Check out the mirror, shift the car into reverse, turn the wheel just so. The drumming of his heart helped him keep time and the knowledge his fifteen year old sister would be so pissed if he got them sent to jail kept him from hesitating once he got started.

They were really stealing a car to get to New York.

Somehow, Lester decided, this was probably the most mundane thing about his Spring Break so far. They’d need to get some supplies before they left Vegas, but something in him settled once he finished pulling out onto the street. The road, somehow, wasn’t too busy, but soon he had the air conditioner going, making his hoodie and hair stick less uncomfortably to the back of his neck. The radio was playing showtunes. They could afford going through a drive thru to get something cold to drink.

Something felt right about this, the soft feeling of nostalgia washing over him as he glanced in the rearview mirror at Meg singing terribly, tossing his cow towards the ceiling in rhythm with the radio.

He didn’t have his phone to access GPS, but as long as they kept moving East and North, they should get to New York eventually. It couldn’t be that hard.

Right?

---

Alone in the Palace of the Sun, glorious Apollo laid dreaming.

Anger had filled him, made him scream and wail before returning to his slumber. His fine furniture and artwork strewn around his vast bed.

Why was this happening to him? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. Had he not fought for this? Had people not died for this? Why did his divinity have to give out now?

---

The ride was slower this time around, Lester noticed, aside from there actually being traffic on the road. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but there was a different energy to it. Not just how much quieter it was now that Meg was dozing in the backseat, but more unsettling than driving turning out to be surprisingly easy even without the story from earlier.

They’d been in this position before, he was sure of it: Meg and him heading eastward with a questionably acquired vehicle. Which, with the story Meg had told him before was very likely. They’d met in New York, which was weird to think about when he couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t known her --

-- which was the problem. He couldn’t remember. He had a whole fantastic wondrous life before. One he couldn’t even comprehend the more he tried to more clearly penetrate the fog if he thought back far enough. Now he was just a kid in high school with a great but overbearing mom and --

-- he would focus on that when he wasn’t driving on the interstate, he decided.

But there was something else worming its way into his brain the more he thought about it. Probably because he hadn’t thought about Frank and Hazel in a while. In an ideal world he would have tried to plead with Diana to go visit them while they were in Yosemite.

He couldn’t remember how he met them either. If he thought hard enough about it, he could picture Frank looking powerful and cool with his hand raised in the air and there was fire and ash and...

...Did they know what had happened to him? A lump rose up in his throat at the thought.

Did they know the truth? Or did they think he was out there doing whatever godly things he had to do?

Why hadn’t his mother or Diana or Hermes or Aunt Hestia or Mr. D or so many others told him the truth?

Meg startled upward from her doze with a shout. It was a minor miracle Lester didn’t lose control of the car right then.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to pull over?” he asked, glancing at her as she pulled off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes.

“I’m fine!” she said. Then she did something very inadvisable in a moving vehicle despite Lester’s protests and crawled between the seats to the front.

“At least put on your seatbelt!” he cried. Somehow he managed to keep control of the car as she settled into the passenger seat. She then leaned the seat back a bit. Lester reached over to turn down the radio enough they could talk.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah! Just… bad dream. Sort of,” she said quietly, putting an arm over her eyes. Lester knew his sister well enough to know when she was being dramatic -- something he took great pride in! -- and when she was exhausted.

His sister who had been woken up in the middle of the night, was told by their other frantic sister he was missing, went to find him, and had to save him from being eaten alive by whatever that thing had been. Lester bit his lip as he watched the road and wove in and out of traffic.

Meg was prone to nightmares, if he remembered right -- and he hoped she did. She’d mentioned it a few times over the phone when he gave her piano lessons. She never felt up to telling him the contents of them, but something small inside him told him he should know.

(He’d been there, actually, front and center for the contents of those nightmares.)

“Hazel and Frank,” he decided to talk about instead, “They go to a Camp, too, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Meg said slowly, not moving, “...I don’t really like it there so I try not to go if I can help it...”

(He’s in a cot, his stomach and body aching and ashen, as she tells him so.)

“So there’s an East Coast and a West Coast camp?” he ventures, “Full of… demigods?”

“Eeeeh, sort of. Camp Half-Blood is Greek. Camp Jupiter is Roman.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” he asks.

“Yes and no? When I asked you about it, you said it depended on the god? You said it could look like a split personality to people who didn’t know much about either, but it was closer to those Barbie movies Miranda likes? Like, it was the same person at the core but sometimes they’re Ballerina Barbie or sometimes they’re the Mermaid Barbie, but it was still Barbie at the core. They were just that specific Barbie at that time. So sometimes a god is Barbie in the Nutcracker or sometimes they're the one from the Dancing Princess movie. Same person, just... different aspect? Or personifying that role right then? You said it wasn't as big a problem for you when it came to the Greek-and-Roman thing.”

It did make sense, is the thing. It also sent an image in his mind of Diana dancing ballet. His sister always did enjoy dancing. He remembered Zoë had complained about his limericks -- even he was sick of those just thinking of them -- but she said nothing of his sister’s much longer step dancing phase.

…when had that happened?

Meg lifted her arm enough to give him a look.

“You were Lester Barbie when I first met you.”

“Lester Barbie? Seriously? I thought I was Apollo.”

“Eh, yeah. You are. Were. However you want to think about it,” she said. Lester reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

“...I’m your brother,” he said, “That’s how I want to think about it for right now. That’s all I need. I might have forgotten everything else, but I remember that. You’re my sister and I love you. I’m certain that was true before and it’s true now.”

Meg made a face, her nose scrunching up just so, and she covered her eyes again. Her free hand found his and held tight.

“You’re a dummy!”

Driving while holding someone’s hand wasn’t the safest thing in the world, but they both needed it right then.

---

Alone in the Palace of the Sun, weary Apollo jolted awake from his sleep.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the vague afterimages of his dream dancing across his eyes. Meg, himself, and a third driving eastward though he couldn’t recall who the third was. The details kept changing between an arrow, a ukulele, and the cow his mother gave him, but it was hard to pull apart what was what.

Christmas was two days away, he knew. His mother and sisters would expect him and he still needed to get gifts. His mother was including Meg.

And after, he decided, he’d tell them. He’d have this last thing safe with his family, away from his father’s eye and desire to ‘fix’ him. He shuddered to think of the look on their faces, the realization he’d one day be part of his Uncle’s domain.

But he had to try.

He decided to bring the recently-dubbed Jason with him on the Sun Chariot that day.

Notes:

* To clarify: Frank and Hazel teaching Meg to hotwire a car is because I polled the Camp Elysium server a while back for who would be the most amusing to do so. They clearly won.

Chapter 20: Rituals and Reconciliation

Summary:

Lester makes an offering to his sister.

Apollo reconciles with his sister.

The thing about stealing a car was the inevitable fact it would eventually run out of gas. Lester was still shocked he and his sister had gotten as far as they had without getting pulled over, probably due to crossing into Utah a few hours ago.

Meg had eventually fallen back asleep in the passenger seat next to him, leaving Lester alone with the radio and his thoughts. No amount of singing at the top of his lungs or focusing on driving through a busy interstate kept him from ignoring several things:

Lester’s back hurt, his legs ached, and there was a rhythmic pounding in his head behind his eyes. Hunger was beginning to gnaw at his stomach and thirst making it hard to keep singing. Meg likely wasn’t faring much better despite sleeping most of the drive.

Plus, driving for hours on end was terribly boring. The drive so far hadn’t been nearly as long as Diana drove from home to Yosemite so why did it feel like it was taking so much longer to get anywhere?

…well, he knew why: he hadn’t been the driver, Thalia had been there to entertain him, and they’d been better prepared for a long trip with an abundance of snacks and music. Lester had been so excited the whole time to just be out of his usual routine he could stare out the window for hours in awe. Diana had probably done something divine to --

Driving, it turned out, sucked, but Lester had no one to blame for it but himself. He could have spoken up to Meg about a bus. Or comfortably on a train watching the scenery pass them by. They could have taken a plane and gotten to his cousins’ camp in less than a --

Lester’s skin crawled at the idea of being up in the sky, tightening up his throat and making it hard to breathe on top of everything else. The aching in his thighs reminded him he wasn’t actually fallingfallingfalling from so high above trailed by a ukulele -- 

It looked like they needed gas. Some actual supplies. Maybe more money to spend. He forced himself to calculate what bills and coins he had left in his pockets, plus whatever money Meg still had in her wallet.

And a bathroom to clean up. Ugh. The air conditioning kept him from sweating too much and he was used to the humidity of Florida, but his curls still stuck uncomfortably to his neck and his hoodie made the marks on his arm itch.

He needed to come up with a better plan than ‘keep driving in a vaguely New York-ward direction’.

Meg woke up as he turned off the freeway.

“Where are we…?” she mumbled, taking off her glasses to rub the sleep from her eyes. Something about the sight stirred in the fog of his mind but he pushed it back. Better not to think of it. Not right then. He needed to be the responsible one.

“Beaver, if I read the sign right,” Lester said, “We’re almost out of gas.”

Meg whined and cussed under her breath about stupid gas guzzlers. Lester smiled at her dramatics, some of the tension leaving his body and making it easier to breathe.

A few minutes later, they’d found a gas station in a little shopping center.

“Where’d Pumpkin go anyway?” Lester asked as he helped Meg out of the passenger seat.

“Wherever Pumpkin wants.” Meg’s back made a cacophony of crackling noises when she stretched her arms over her head. Lester wince and stand a little straighter, aware of the soreness across his shoulders and down his arms from being in the same position so long.

“I dunno if it was your doing or not,” she continued as she rolled her shoulders to loosen them up, “but he’s always come when I call him so I’m not too worried about him.”

“My doing?”

“Well yeah,” Meg said, “You more or less waved your hand and he walked out of nothing. I dunno if you teleported him or just made him then and there. I never got a chance to ask before…”

Before he wasn’t a god anymore.

“We should get something to eat!” he decide, “It’s almost lunchtime, right?” 

He was already digging through his pockets for his money. He set the bills and change on the hood and found….

He frowned.

“What is it?”

“Well, if we’re doing this by car. We need money for gas and a hotel and food and -- “

“I know. It’s not the first time we’ve done this,” Meg said, hoisting herself up to sit on the hood.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. We weren’t as direct in getting there last time. We probably could have made it in a week if we didn’t take every detour and side trip we wanted. Because…” She looked far more nostalgic than someone her age should be as she trailed off.

The words came forward before he could overthink it.

“...we weren’t sure if we’d get another chance to do any of it.”

Meg turned her head to him, a sad smile on her face. She pulled off her glasses and wiped her eyes.

“We fought a grain spirit at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine.”

“Really?” he asked. His life, as far as he could remember, had been so confined to his mother’s condo complex it was impossible for him to imagine being anywhere else. This despite being in a gas station in another part of the country with his younger sister sitting on a car they stole.

Meg began to tell him the tale: how they saw the roadsign and deciding to go for the fun of it. She told him of the spirits amongst the tourists. How they’d tried to ignore them, but they recognized Meg for what she was. How the spirit attacked her and Apollo had --

“--sung a grain spirit to sleep?”

“Yup!” Meg said brightly, “Then I took off its head and it exploded into dust!”

Something in the back of his mind stirred insistently. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or something clearing in the fog, but he could see it, almost feel it like it was happening in front of him: the terror crawling up his throat, the frustration making tears come to his eyes, the ice lodged in his airway. Meg spoke of that time so fondly, yet she spoke of being attacked when they just went to a tourist trap to cross it off a morbid bucket list.

From what he understood from her explanations earlier in the day, it was normal for demigods to expect this.

“Okay,” he started to say, “So… we have enough for food and gas, if you don’t mind gas station hot dogs. Then if we find a good corner, I can probably get us some money singing again.”

Except if they did that, another monster might track them down. Lester swallowed thickly as he remembered the too wide smile and the grip around his throat that morning. If Meg had been a few seconds later Lester would most likely be --

“I can keep an eye out for monsters,” Meg cut in, tossing his cow up and down in the air, “We should probably get to the next town before you sing, just to be sure.”

“Yeah,” he said, hiking the collar of his hoodie up just so, “You’re probably right.”

“Okay. So. Singing,” Meg said, making his cow do flips as she tossed it up, “Any good songs?”

Lester managed a big grin.

“How about --”

---

“Mamma Mia! Here I go again!” Apollo sang into a spatula at the top of his lungs. To his delight, mis mother’s laughter as he leaned back against the poster that had migrated into the condo at some point matched the one in his memory.

“My, my! How can I resist you?” he sang to the poster and ran his hand along the curve of McLean’s jaw.

He span around and stomped his feet to keep rhythm as he continued to sing.

Artemis, his mother, and himself would get together for Christmas every year, though they didn’t actually celebrate it. Apollo and Artemis were expected on Olympus for the Solstice and Saturnalia, but designated the holiday for time with their mother.

Getting to just be away from Olympus was nice. For a little while, he could pretend his father hadn’t cornered him, pretend this likely would be the last time they’d be together like this, pretend tomorrow would be certain for him. For today, he wouldn’t worry his mother and sisters too much. For now he could indulge in how the condo smelled richly of his mother’s moussaka in the oven and look forward to the collection of movies to watch after dinner. There would be no wine due to the incoming presence of Meg this year, but Apollo couldn’t complain.

“Yes, I’ve been brokenhearted,” he crooned into the spatula, “Bluuuuuue since the day we parted. Why why, did I ever let you go? Mamma Mia, now I really know!”

He pulled his mother in by a hand to dance with him, her laughter like music as her long plait of hair flowed behind her. “My my, I could never let you go!”

His mother, being the taller one, brought his hand up to twirl him and he let the spatula drop, laughing brightly. Apollo hadn’t realized he’d needed this sense of real peace and joy so badly after the last few months. It was a balm on the open wound of his psyche. He went so far as to not bother spotting and let himself be twirled until he collapsed to the ground in a heap of giddy dizziness. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” his mother laughed, falling to the floor next to him.

“I’m just glad we can do this again.”

He leaned back to look up at her. In that moment, he couldn’t pinpoint his earliest memory of his mother, not truly, but as he tried to think it through he was pleased to know he remembered her as a constant presence in his life. He had remembered her when he’d been mortal before. That boded well for when he finally descended entirely into mortality.

“I am, too. It’s been too long,” his mother said with a soft smile, reaching out to ruffle his dark curls. She lifted herself to her feet and reached out a hand to help him up.

A bang as the door slammed open announced the arrival of his sisters. Apollo grinned broadly as he scooped Meg up, backpack and all, and span her around.

“Put me down, dummy!” she yelled with no real bite behind it.

“Why should I?” he asked, hoisting her up a little higher despite her yelling. Her response was an indignant smack to his shoulder, which got him laughing and letting her slide down.

“Hello Apollo.” Apollo froze and swallowed thickly as he looked over to Artemis, her stern silver eyes guarded. He shifted from one foot to the other, words lost to him for once.

(Would his father have been able to corner him if he’d not insisted on avoiding her?)

His mother gently ushered Meg off to the guest room so she could unpack. Being mortal and young, his mother insisted she spend the night. Apollo would take her home on the Sun Chariot in the morning.

The silence weighed between Apollo and his twin for several long moments. What could he even say to her? Before, they had all the time in the world to fix things between them. Now he knew he would only be able to accomplish so much.

“Apollo -- “

“Artemis -- “

Both twins startled. Apollo looked at her. She’d been trying to be nice. She’d been trying to help. She was the only one who could feasibly take over the Sun Chariot without collateral damage. It sucked she hadn’t asked, but in the face of his time now being limited did he want to hold on to this anger? In the face of the fact one day she’d have to bury him like Zoë Nightshade?

Did he really want his sister’s memory of him to be tainted and strained by a fight wherein she’d meant well?

He held his arms open, despite knowing she wasn’t one for physical affection.

“Merry Christmas?”

She punched his arm and then performed a Christmas Miracle:

She hugged him tight around his waist. Even without the circumstances around it, that brought tears to his eye.

“Do you want to help me set the table?” he sniffled. This time he tried not to wipe his face on her hair.

---

Singing had luckily yielded more cash. Even more luckily, no monsters followed them when they went to the next town over. They had decided to abandon the car a few blocks from their chosen motel, just in case. If it was still there in the morning, they would take it. Otherwise, the plan was to figure out a bus or a train.

A hot shower was a balm to the soreness from driving so long. Yes, the motel shampoo and conditioner would be terrible for his curls, but it felt so nice to clean them of the sweat and grime along with the rest of his body.

He didn’t trust the soap for his face and carefully splashed water on it. The pimple on his chin had already erupted. Much to his annoyance, he could feel the ache of a few more just under his skin. Ugh. If this kept up it would take months to clear up. Diana would make fun of him for it when they finally saw each other again.

Lester could feel his aching throat tighten up at the thought of his sister. Not for the first time, he wondered if Liliane had called his mother, if his mother had told Diana. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what he knew now, but he didn’t want her to worry. Not now that he had a better idea of what ‘being unable to find him’ meant.

After Meg fell asleep in one of the beds, he made a point of hunting down some matches and grabbed a chicken nugget from the leftovers of the takeaway they had for dinner. Their room had a tiny balcony, barely big enough for a single chair, but it would do for what he wanted.

The moon was painfully beautiful as he looked upon it.

Who knew if this would work, if the markings on his arm would keep this from working, if his sister would even think to listen this way.

He yelped when he burned himself striking the first match. The second one didn’t want to light at all. The third, however, held up well enough he could hold the chicken nugget over the little flame.

The smell of burning crust almost made him want to gag. His sister deserved way better than this. His offering should be one of the frosted sugar cookies she loved or maybe some goat meat. If he got a chance, he should find some later on and maybe a good and proper offering fire. It was more important he try than quibble over the details. Liliane shouldn't be made to be a go between for him and his family. Not if something as simple as this could get the message across.

“Hey Diana,” he whispered softly, “I just wanted to let you know: I’m okay and this won’t be forever. Once I see my cousins, we’ll be able to see each other again, I promise. So please please please don’t worry about me? I’ll be fine.”

The smell was terrible and he had no idea if she could hear him or not. He hoped she did. He wanted her to. Part of him wanted her to just appear on the balcony next to him so he could hug her and cry on her shoulder and apologize for making her worry about him.

“I love you.” 

He dropped the burnt nugget and the match to the ground and stomped it out under his foot before he went back inside. It felt weird laying down in a bed not his own, but this was a hotel, not home.

Home where his mother had kept a huge secret from him.

Where everyone he loved had kept secrets and lied to him.

He buried his face in a pillow as the dam burst.

Lester wasn’t some high schooler. He was nothing more than a replacement for someone who may or may not exist anymore. He hated it. He hated it so much. Why did it have to be this way? Did his cousins know? Was this why his mother wouldn’t let him go see them at Camp Half-Blood? Was that why it always had to be a phone call? Or was it the Mist confusing him how Meg often described?

Why had no one told him the truth before Meg?

It was a miracle he hadn’t audibly sobbed. Meg was still asleep and needed her rest. One way or another, she was tagging along and he needed to get her there safely. At this point he doubted he’d be able to convince her to go back and she’d yell at him if he turned back for her sake.

He loved his sister so much.

(He hasn’t forgotten her.)

They were both going to be so grounded when this was over, he thought, drawing the blanket up to his chin. Lu and his mother were going to yell at them for an hour. Then maybe he could get the truth out of his mother and work on making it up to Diana.

What would his mother do once she found out he knew the truth? If she kept all of this from him for so long, what else had she kept from him? How far had she gone to keep it from him? Lester wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Tears burned in his eyes once more and he covered his mouth to keep it in.

He almost wished it was twenty-four hours ago when he’d been so happy and pleased to spend time with his older sister. Maybe then he wouldn’t know he was supposed to be something else entirely, something larger and greater and worthy of his sisters.

He was never going to be as cool as Diana. His mother hadn’t truly wanted to plan for college, had she? Lester definitely didn’t know what, exactly, he wanted out of it.

His cousins first, he reminded himself. Once he got to see his cousins he could figure out where to go from there and talk to his mother. Make her tell him the truth and understand where she was coming from. Once he knew the full truth of it he could decide where to go from there.

Maybe by then Lester would know what it was he wanted.

Notes:

/shoves the rock that is the ao3 curse back down the hill and cheerfully follows after it

This chapter was originally going to be a lot longer, which is what gave me so much trouble getting this to a place where I felt confident posting it.

Then I realized I could do something really cool with a lot of the content and the intended events of the next chapter. :)

Until next time!

Chapter 21: Fits and Festivities

Summary:

Apollo tries to have one last happy day.

Lester has trouble sleeping.

Notes:

Content warnings for:
* Existential dread
* Family Issues (tm)
* Depersonalization
* Mentions of bruising due to strangulation

For such a cheap motel the bed was surprisingly soft and comfortable. Or maybe it was just a whole lot better than having his face squished against a window next to someone whose snores could have woken a creature from the deepest pit. Either way, it didn’t make much noise as he tossed and turned, only to wind up staring at the swirls on the ceiling.

Trouble sleeping wasn’t unusual for Lester. Normally it was his mind working overtime with trying to condense all the bits of poetry and music and all the things he wanted to catch his cousins and Meg up on so he wouldn’t forget them.

(His heart briefly drums out a staccato.)

This was usually accompanied by how he always woke before his mother -- before even the Sun came up -- and couldn’t go back to sleep after if he wanted to.

Like that morning with Diana when he wanted to make breakfast for their mother and she brought up camping.

He turned over again, humming a tune to the rhythm of Meg’s breathing in the other bed, then tucking his blanket over his shoulders. This was the point where he’d pull his cow out of the bedazzled barn on his nightstand and hug it to get comfortable. Since Meg had his cow and he refused to wake her, he settled for hugging one of the pillows tightly.

Had Diana heard his prayer, he wondered, did she get his offering? Next time, because there would be a next time, he needed to find her sugar cookies or maybe goat. She liked those and would appreciate the thought better than leftover chicken nuggets.

Was his mom worrying? Did they call the ADHD Camp to tell them he was headed that way? Should he call them the next time they found a pay phone?

The extra pillow fell to the floor as Lester rolled onto his stomach to stifle his frustrated groan into the one under his head. He forgot over a millennia of history. Why couldn’t he forget for a couple hours so he could just get some real sleep? He was supposed to drive in the morning! He can’t do that if he’s half asleep at the wheel! They would get pulled over and then it’d be game over because Lester didn’t even have his wallet or a learner’s permit!

Yet the knowledge kept repeating in a loop in his head despite his earlier nonchalance to Meg.

His mother was a titan.

His older sister was a goddess. 

Not just any goddess, but the goddess known best for having a twin brother.

And Lester Papadopoulos was supposed to be that brother. Not whatever he was now. Was he even human? Did his family want him, whiny and a mess and honestly not very good at getting dates, and not that golden and glorious god instead?

Will (his children) be disappointed when he sees them face to face?

Rolling over to his other side, he contemplated the rhinestone-studded glasses sitting on the nightstand between the beds, twinkling in what little light peaked in between the curtains.

He’d be dead right now if not for Meg.

If he couldn’t protect himself how could he hope to protect Meg? He didn’t have swords and he hadn’t been able to even outrun whatever that was that had chased him down the street.

His sister who probably held all the answers, but it wouldn’t be right to ask her if she didn’t want to tell him. Lester was already being terrible to Diana by running off like he had, which meant he had to be a good brother to his other sister.

How could he burden Meg with the dizzying swirl of fear and anxiety and questions pulling him down down down to squirm uncomfortably in his stomach? Especially when he’d likely have answers in a few days? Meg had a right to her secrets. Probably the only person in this mess who did.

(Had anyone ever planned to tell him?)

Ugh, this sucked. 

Lester flopped onto his back and pressed the extra pillow over his face to muffle his frustration. 

He missed his bed.

He missed his mom’s frogs.

He missed the collection of crafts from his cousins.

He missed Diana’s tent and stringing bows and being cajoled into chores for the Hunters.

He missed home.

He couldn’t help but wonder where home was now. Was his mother’s house still his home?

Something stirred vaguely in his mind. A promise, or a wish. He wasn’t supposed to be in his mother’s home. It felt traitorous to think since his mother was so good to him despite everything. If he’d been a god before, she had to have kept him and cared for him because she still loved him, right?

But she’d kept such a huge thing from him.

His throat tightened up as his mind circled back to it without his say so. 

Why couldn’t it just calm down and let him sleep?!

(He’s failed in so much)

How could he forget over a millennia of history, but remember Meg’s piano lessons every Sunday?

(At least he kept his promise to not forget her)

Deep breath in. 

Long breath out. 

Deep breath in. 

Long breath out.

(He got one thing right)

It was as the moon passed from the crack in the window he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

---

Apollo kicked the door with his heel as he backed out of the kitchen into his mother’s formal dining room. In his hands he held a tray of plates with their dinner. That had always been the general rule in his mother’s house: if she cooked, Apollo would serve and clear the meal, and both he and Artemis would clean up the kitchen and dining room for her.

He set the first plate in front of Meg where she was seated with a flourish. The large table had his mother’s favorite daisy tablecloth on it. A paper mache frog in a santa hat at the center was the only real formal Christmas decoration unless one counted the antler headband festooned with Christmas lights Apollo had donned more to annoy Artemis than anything else.

After all, this little gathering was more about spending time together than the holiday itself.

“Here, Meg, you need to try Mama’s moussaka!” he said before setting his own plate in front of his seat between her and his mother, then moving on.

Meg made the kind of expression someone did when trying not to make a face as she poked at the slice in front of her, then lifted the top layer with a fork.

“It has eggplant,” she said.

“You’re not fond of eggplant?” Leto laughed lightly at the head of the table. Meg looked up at Apollo, whose lips twitched into a smile as he set a plate in front of his mother.

“It’s always too mushy in the middle,” she said, meeting swirling silver eyes.

“Mushy? It might not have been prepared properly before cooking,” Leto said as Apollo set a plate in front of Artemis and poured golden lemonade for her, “Was it salted before cooking when you last had it? It helps draw out the water and make it nice and firm.”

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat. From their time when it was just the two of them for so long, Apollo knew she was probably clicking her feet together under the table.

Then she was sitting a little too still, staring down at her plate and shoulders a little too square, her back a little too straight. Something was wrong, though Apollo couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, as he sat down in his place beside her.

“It was a chef who made it.”

“Even so, they might not have cooked it properly,” Leto continued.

“Mom,” Artemis spoke up, having already swallowed her first bite, “Perhaps she should have something else.”

His mother waved a hand towards Artemis.

“Nonsense, I worked very hard on this. Have a taste, Meg. I promise you’ll like it this time.”

Meg shifted uncomfortably, unable to look anyone in the eye. Alarm bells went off in Apollo’s head as she picked up fork and knife. Slowly, carefully,  she cut a small triangle off.

Apollo stared at her. This stillness was not his sister. His memory was shot, but he knew her and he knew her behaviors the same as he knew his eyes in the mirror or Artemis no matter what face she wore. He’d promised he wouldn’t forget her, but he was forgetting something important here.

Something was off.

Meg’s face was a blank mask as she took the bite.

“It’s... really good,” Meg said quietly, carefully poking at the layers of eggplant on her plate with her fork.

He should know what’s wrong. He looked across at Artemis, her brows drawn low and stern silver eyes focused on their mother. She looked ready to say something, but Apollo knew he was closer to his younger sister than Meg was to her.

Apollo reached for Meg’s plate and slid the slice of mousakka onto his own.

“What -- ?”

“Mom makes the best mousakka. Way better than those cooks in your old home,” he said. 

It was a guess, but an educated guess. Meg didn’t like eggplant. She also got very little say in what she liked and wanted growing up under her stepfather’s thumb. He didn’t need more than that.

His mother sat up a little straighter, mouth open just so as swirling silver eyes focused on Meg.

“Besides,” he began after taking a large bite and focusing on his twin, “As Artemis has mentioned I need to properly eat more.”

Especially if some part of him was already mortal. He’d need his strength once this night was over and he told all three what was going on. He hoped it was nerves about it he could almost feel the blood flowing just under his skin, but Apollo was determined to have this last night of peace with his family one way or another.

Leto looked between all three of her children, her hand coming up to her mouth before she looked back to Meg. Then she reached across the table with one hand. Meg hesitated, then took it to be squeezed.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” his mother said softly, “I should have listened to you about the eggplant and I need to be better about that. Will you forgive me?”

Meg looked between all three of them in bewilderment. Apollo gave her an encouraging smile and Artemis had seemed to relax just so.

“Y-yeah,” she responded slowly and squeezed Leto’s large hand. Leto took her hand back and looked at her son.

“Phoebus, there’s some souvlaki and perogies in the fridge. Could you get them out please?” Leto asked. She paused, looking to the high ceiling for a moment to think. “You’re still growing. You’ll need a vegetable besides the potato to help round it out… are you all right with snap peas or asparagus?”

“I actually do like asparagus,” Meg answered a little more confidently.

“Wonderful. Phoebus, there should be some buttered asparagus in the fridge as well. Get some for yourself when you heat up Meg’s plate.”

Apollo could feel his face go hot.

“Mooooom!” he whined, “I’m not the one still growing!”

“You also haven’t been feeling well lately. And, yes, you have two servings of moussaka in front of you, but you need to eat more in general: not just a latte while out in the Sun Chariot.”

“I’m not a child,” Apollo insisted, “I have been eating! I eat when I spend Sundays with Meg!”

Which, try as he might, a single day a week of three consistent meals probably wasn’t that great.

“You didn’t look so well when you spent the night the other day.”

Apollo’s nascent appetite instantly plummeted. Artemis instantly had stern silver eyes on him.

“Stayed over? Is this where you went when you disappeared from the Solstice?” Artemis asked, “Normally you stay to gossip and catch up with the Muses. They haven’t seen you and they miss you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Apollo said a little too quickly. He did not want to talk about this right now -- especially the fact he had forgotten anyone divine outside the Olympians would have been present for the Solstice. “I needed to rest so I spent the night here.”

“Apollo…” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted a little too quickly.

The last thing he wanted was to go into what had happened with his father, what that event led to him realizing. That was for the future, not what was meant as this last bit of the warmth and quiet of hearth and home. The only thing missing was Aunt Hestia’s quiet presence, but everyone on his father’s side of the family understood she preferred to keep to herself on most days, slipping in and out of whatever was deemed the heart of a home. For some that was the hearth, for some a memorial, for some a garden. 

Aunt Hestia was rarely far away if she chose to be there. It gave Apollo some comfort. Maybe as a mortal he’d still be able to see her if he wasn’t forced to be completely apart from his family.

That was something he hadn’t considered before. When ichor fully became blood and his being settled into flesh and blood and bone, would he still be able to see his sister? His mother? 

He knew it’d be harder to see his children. Memory issues aside, having to deal with the painful limitations of mortal transportation would make it difficult. His and Meg traveling cross country reminded him of that, but at least there wouldn’t be so many rules and restrictions to navigate in spending time with them.

“You sound like Mom,” Artemis said, breaking his train of thought. Now it was their mother’s turn to go golden in the face.

“What are you talking abou--”

“Phoebus, Sweetheart, go make up that plate for Meg,” Leto said. Apollo instantly stood up and took Meg’s empty plate, a buzz going through his head.

“Mom!” Artemis said. Leto already had a hand over her mouth. “That’s not fair!”

“It’s okay, Artemis,” Apollo said, going with the compulsion as he picked up his own plate, “I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s not what this is about!” she hissed and turned to their mother, “Mom, that isn’t fair to him. Especially right now.”

“I didn’t mean to -- “ Leto said, “I’m so sorr -- “

“You only do it with Apollo, but never with me,” Artemis hissed, “I get you’re just as worried as I am, but -- “

Apollo wanted to speak up, wanted to continue, wanted to argue, but an ache was drumming through his head. This was not a discussion he wanted to have when this was supposed to be a nice meal together.

He glanced over to his younger sister as he headed to the kitchen. She looked so small, even with his older sister appearing the same age as her, stiff once more, her grip on her fork white knuckled.

“Hey, Meg, you wanna help me make hot chocolate?” he called over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen.

Meg gladly abandoned the table while Artemis and Leto continued to argue in hushed whispers, seemingly oblivious to the exchange.

His mother and Artemis were grown. She didn’t need to be caught in the middle of a fight like that.

Apollo set the plates on the island and gestured for Meg to sit on a stool. She settled onto one and watched Apollo pull the needed tupperware from the fridge.

“Is Christmas with your mom always like this?”

“It’s…” he paused, brows furrowing as he thought back. What was Christmas usually like? He remembered it being happy, the same as he was pretty sure he never missed a Mother’s Day, but he couldn’t recall anything more specific. He was quiet as he set the tupperware on the island.

“...you don’t remember.”

Apollo could feel himself flinch as he filled up Meg’s plate.

“Meg, I -- “

“I know. I know. Whatever’s going on, it’s not your fault,” she said quietly, glancing towards the dining room where his mother and Artemis were arguing in hushed whispers. 

Arguing about Apollo. 

Apollo focused on his hands under Meg’s new plate and was delighted to find he could still warm them. It was a trick he used to do to keep food warm for his children and partners in the past. He was glad he’d gotten the chance to do it for Meg.

Still, it felt complicated to not be blamed for what was happening. This was his problem, his weakness, his burden. He didn’t want to put it on those around him and putting the weight of it on Meg of all people would be the most unfair of all.

“You’re worried about me.”

“Everyone’s worried about you,” Meg said.

She made a face as the plate began steaming and he set it in front of her, then went back to the fridge to find the milk. She kept talking as he went to a cabinet for the cocoa, sugar, and cinnamon. “No one wants to say it out loud, but everyone is worrying.”

“I know,” he said, exhaustion already in his voice as he came back with the ingredients and two mugs. If his mother and Artemis were going to fight over him, he wasn’t going to make them any. At least, not yet.

He remained quiet as he poured the milk and put it back in the fridge.

“You don’t want to talk about this,” Meg grumbled as he sat down beside her at the island.

Apollo looked down at the vague reflection of the overhead light in the milk, rippling just so.

This wasn’t fair. He was supposed to have the full depth and breadth of his power. Meg wasn’t supposed to be afraid to lose him, not anymore. Everyone was supposed to stop worrying so much about him so he could get on with the business of keeping his promise to Jason.

“I think I may have figured out what’s going on,” he said, sorting out the cocoa and cinnamon and sugar between their plates. The truth was probably best. Or, at least, the truth about why he was keeping this to himself.

“I just want some time to process, I guess?” he continued, holding each cup to heat them in his hands, “Or figure out how to explain it before I tell everyone. I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Her lower lip wobbled and Apollo wished they could have more time like this. Just being together, sharing a meal, making her hot cocoa.

He put in more sugar for himself and a little more cinnamon for Meg. Meg and his mother took their cocoa the same way. He was pleased to realize he remembered that. Apollo and his sister tended towards more sweetness in their drinks. Artemis would never admit she loved the same caramel frappes with extra whipped cream he did.

“You promise you’ll tell me once you figure out how?” Meg asked as he set the hot chocolate beside her plate.

Apollo thought of his cow on his nightstand in the Sun Palace, how he’d been hugging it when he slept much like he did as a child, of the purpose he’d given it because he was absolutely certain the reminder would help. He wasn’t sure if it would work, if he could keep the promises he’d made in poor Jason’s name.

But this?

This would be an easy one to make.

He leaned over and got her in a one armed hug.

“I promise, dear Meg,” he said softly and drew back, a soft smile on his face, “You will be the first I tell.”

Voices raised in the next room. Apollo snapped his fingers and the noise was muffled. He hated the idea his mother and sister were arguing over him, but he wanted this time with Meg to be nice. He’d long learned to never get between his mother and Artemis in any kind of argument.

He grabbed some fresh cutlery from the drawer and handed a set to Meg.

“Here. Mama’s right. We both need to eat.”

Meg made a face as she took them from him.

“They won’t be made?”

Apollo shrugged his shoulders.

“They’ll figure out whatever they’re arguing over and you can always say I bullied you into it.”

Meg snorted and stuck out her tongue at him.

“You? Bully me? Please, you’re the pushover between us.”

Apollo laughed brightly at that. He could not deny it and hoped he’d never be able to. This was nice. This was why he joined her for meals at Aethihales. This banter and laughter. Maybe being mortal won’t be so bad if he could still see where Meg’s life will take her, the force of nature she would no doubt become.

He took a bite of the moussaka. It was delicious, as expected of his mother’s cooking, but he could see why Meg wouldn’t like the texture of eggplant so much. He was proud she spoke up about it when so uncomfortable about it. He just wished he’d spoken up sooner.

“Really glad you didn’t like this. It’s amazing.”

They sat quietly as they ate. Meg stole Apollo’s share of asparagus, much to his delight. This was nice. This was what this evening should be.

A wordless yell from the dining room made him spill his cocoa as he was taking a drink.

“Are you okay?!” Meg asked.

Under other circumstances, Apollo knew he would have probably thrown a tantrum for it. But his head still buzzed just so and his mother and sister were fighting, even if muffled. Meg looked upset, but Apollo gave her a soft smile.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he got up, “I’m going to clean this up.”

He took off the antler headband and set it on Meg’s head. She scrunched up her face in annoyance.

“Take care of these for me.”

The bathroom was just down the hall, next to the guest room. The door was opened and Apollo smiled seeing Meg’s backpack for sleeping over was thrown haphazardly on the bed.

He flicked on the light in the bathroom and came up short.

…who was that in the mirror?

---

Lester startled awake, his head pounding.

Where was… there was something off about the walls around them, a warm brown that wasn’t quite the right shade.

Where were all his posters of Tristan McLean and Margot Robbie?

Lester was pretty sure he should be here, but couldn’t place how he got there.

But the furniture was warm and wooden. The ceilings were…. Well not exactly low, but not high enough for his mother’s condo. The popcorn pattern didn’t match the beams and eaves his own ceiling had and where were the stars he and his mother painstakingly covered it with anyway? There was a second bed with -- 

oh, his sister.

That made more sense.

Wasn’t he just having dinner with Meg? 

And his mom and sister were… fighting. 

Over something. 

Lester’s head hurt. He must not have slept too well, which wasn’t unusual. His mother said he used to sleepwalk. Had he done it again?

His throat was dry and his face felt sweaty despite his earlier shower. 

His back and legs ached.

His arm itched something fierce and he fought the urge to scratch it.

He could feel the beginning aches of a pimple forming on his chin.

It felt like even his hair ached to a degree.

Ugh.

Lester almost fell out of bed as he got up. Weird. Why was the bed higher than normal?

Whatever it was could wait. He needed some water. He headed to the bathroom and stretched his arms over his head on the way.

Something about the layout of the room was off, but he paid it no mind. Not right then. He could still hear the echo of singing in the back of his mind but the tune… the tune itself was off.

It took longer than it should to find the bathroom and he knocked something over. Knocked another thing over. Why wasn’t anything where it should be?

He found the light switch, reached up to crack his back then turned on the tap to splash his face with water.

When he looked up he glanced in the mirror and paused.

The person in the mirror wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t the usual reflection, but something in it was felt right in a way it’d never felt before.

The curve of the jaw, the slope of the brows, the dark cascade of curls about his shoulders.

He wore an awful sweater with a stain of chocolate down the front.

Lester leaned in, eyes wide. The eyes are the same, the right eyes.

But this was the face. The face he’d been looking for. The face that feels right.

He reached out, fingers brushing the glass.

---

There was a boy in the mirror. 

One all too familiar -- he’d barely been able to look in the mirror and face it for half a year.

The dark curls -- well, this iteration had a spectacular dandelion puff of bed head.

There were the beginnings of acne on his cheek, not yet fully erupted but there was only so much time before it did. His face was pale from lack of rest and there was a spectacular bruise building around his throat.

He could almost feel the phantom of it around his throat as the boy reached forward, fingers brushing the glass.

Something in the back of his mind screamed at him, much like Artemis’s desperate cry echoing from the future. Apollo swallowed thickly, a hand resting atop his neck where the bruises would one day be.

His throat tightened up and he raised a hand in tandem.

---

Lester felt his throat tighten up. His hand going to his throat at the same time as the man in the mirror’s. He was…. He was bruising from earlier, wasn’t he? When that thing had him by the throat. 

Another reason to keep his hoodie on and stay covered up.

Was this… was this who he’d been before? Tall and golden and glorious?

There’s something in those eyes as they lock on one another. Lester had no clue what was happening, he had a feeling who he was before would say the same, but --

---

(The fear in his eyes is the same)

---

Apollo swallowed down the dread and the tears. He would tell them and tell them soon. He just wanted and needed one last day before he broke their hearts. He owed it to his mother and sisters.

There was some relief to see Meg in the reflection, even if her mouth were turned down into a frown. What could possibly have her so upset he didn’t know.

It took him a moment to realize the Meg in the reflection was in the here and now. She wiped her eyes and took off her glasses.

He turned to her.

“Apollo?”

He saw Meg reflected behind him in the mirror and turned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“...who said something is wrong?”

“Your face gets all tight when you’re trying not to cry,” he said with a slight smile, “Come on. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t think I like your mom anymore.”

“What? Why? Did she say something?”

“It’s more like what she hasn’t said.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t…. know. Not really. I opened the door and listened to her and your sister arguing. She’s keeping something from you and Artemis doesn’t like it. It’s weird. She said you weren’t supposed to know something and you’ll forget anyway if she tells you and I -- I can’t stay here. It’s too much.”

There were very few times Apollo had been truly angry with his mother.

Her dislike of Hyacinthus and Cyrene, for one. Not because either had done anything wrong, but simply because she thought in that way all mothers tended to when their children had bad luck in love their new beaus weren’t good enough for her child. 

Meanwhile, Apollo had genuinely thought he had been the one unworthy of those wondrous people. There had once been her and Artemis talking down to him about … he forced the gap away. It didn’t matter who or what his mother and Artemis had been speaking ill of him for far back when. All he could remember was it’d hurt and he’d already been in pain at the time.

“Let’s get your bag. I’ll take you back to Aethihales.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s your mom and sister,” Meg said.

Apollo walked to her and pulled her into a hug. His hugs were nowhere as good as his mother’s, but the affection was the same. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

“Dear Meg, family is complicated. It isn’t fair to force you to stay here when you’re not comfortable. Let’s get your bag. I’ll text Mom and Artemis to let them know.”

They could try for one last happy night another time. Then he could tell them what was happening to him.

---

Lester turned from the mirror when he thought he saw Meg there, her hair in the shaggy pageboy she used to prefer.

She did used to prefer a shaggy pageboy for her hair, right? He wasn’t remembering wrong?

His head hurt so much.

Meg wasn’t behind him. Where was she? 

“Meg?” he called as he left the bathroom. Meg was here in bed. He had to look after Meg. His little sister. His baby sister. His responsibility. Just the best for her.

Meg almost punched him in the face as he woke her. She looked at him, bleary eyed.

“Lester…?” she asked, not quite meeting his eyes. He knew her well enough to know it was because she couldn’t see well and not because she was having trouble looking him in the eye.

“We were… we were at Mom’s house, right? Having dinner? We had…”

His head hurt so much. He leaned forward, the thought fading away like smoke the more he tried to grasp at it.

“Hot chocolate… I… Where are we? We were in Yosemite and --”

Something soft was pushed into his lap. Lester stared at the soft plush in front of him.

“Meg?” he started, looking into button eyes and rough stitching. 

His sister threw his arms around his shoulders, almost toppling off the bed. He took a deep breath, trying to will it down. Trying to sort this out. But the easier it became to think the more the taste of hot chocolate and moussaka faded from his mouth.

“What is… what… happened to me?” he asked, hugging the cow as Meg pressed her head against his shoulder. He could feel a tightness in his throat, the tears he’d been trying to hold back building.

“I don’t know,” Meg mumbled into his shoulder.

He squeezed his cow tighter. The itching on his arm settled as he vaguely recalled the man in the woods.

“You told me once you’d figured it out and you needed time to process, but...”

His cousins. He had to get to his cousins at their ADHD Camp.

“...but almost two weeks later you disappeared. A week later, I found out you were like this.”

“This...?” he asked, voice cracking.

His sister’s best friend was dead and he’d been lied to.

“Mortal. And thinking you’d always been mortal.”

His whole life was a lie.

He turned and clutched at his sister, the dam finally breaking as he sobbed against her.

Notes:

Yeah so Life (tm) happened and here we are two- three months later despite my best efforts. Hopefully I am back in the saddle to get on track. In the meantime I hope you guys enjoyed the heartbreak! <3

Chapter 22: Sisters and Sons

Summary:

Lester and Meg have breakfast and get out of town.

Apollo visits his children.

Notes:

CW: Grief, discussion of death and the death of children, memory fuckery, existential terror, and slut shaming (of pjo!Zeus).

Lester flopped back onto the bed as rosy fingered dawn peaked over the horizon. His head throbbed and his throat ached so much from the previous night. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sing when they finally made a pitstop somewhere further east. Maybe he could improvise an instrument down the line?

Meg had gone downstairs to collect food from the continental breakfast. Now that he knew monsters lurked around the corner, the idea of letting her out of his sight made the hair on the back of his neck stand so on end it was almost straight. Luckily he had seen first hand she was armed and able to protect herself. He didn’t want to become his mother.

His mother.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up. They were going to leave today, before any monsters could get them. He gingerly put a hand to the tender flesh just under his jaw and shut his eyes tight to will down the image of that thing calling him a little demigod. Except he wasn’t a demigod. He might not have even been human. He might have --

Maybe he could write a bit? He could always get lost in it. His mind shutting down from the nonsense whirls and whorls his throughts sometimes span into. He found a couple napkins from their dinner last night and scrounged around the motel room for a pen.

A napkin wasn’t the best paper to write on, but they made do to just scribble something. From there it was easy enough to fall back on an old standby, coded in ones and zeroes. The scratch of pen to napkin was a balm to jagged nerves.

Even if he kept getting frustrated with how it kept ripping when he circled over a zero several times until the shape was perfect. Despite that annoying setback, he kept it up, letting the digits spread across the page, then moving on to dots and dashes when those got too frustrating.

It was soothing, in a way; a reminder of something solid, something real, the frustration and fear still boiling just under his skin transferred to the tight grip around the pen. Pen and paper felt familiar, like he'd perched over the page for thousands of years, despite having learned about binary poetry in his calculus class.

A fact of the universe that wouldn’t change even with his jenga tower of a life crashing around him.

When he got to Camp and saw his cousins, he’d just have to rebuild it one brick at a time.

Once upon a time, he had been the God of Truth.

And Light.

And Music.

And so many other things he couldn’t comprehend it all.

Even knowing that, knowing if he found out another way he’d be lording it over those around him, at the very core of himself he just missed Diana and his mother. As much as he didn’t like Meg coming with him, he was glad she was here. He would have died without her saving him with Pumpkin, but on the other hand he--

“Hey!”

Meg caught the chair before Lester tipped it back entirely in his surprise. A yelp escaped him as she pushed it back upright with no issue. She peered down at the marks on the napkins, nearly bruising his ribs as he was pushed into the table’s edge.

“You know,” Meg said, squinting at it, “Artemis would probably read your diary less if you wrote it like that. She’s like the only one who can decipher your doctor-writing, but I don’t think she’d figure this out.”

Lester's face grew hot as he curled over the poem and covered it with his hands. It wasn’t the first time his little sister had seen him writing these kind of poems. He had whole notebooks filled with lines of ones and zeroes in blocks of five-seven-five ever since he first learned about them. His teacher had meant it as an exercise in translating numbers between different bases, but Lester had seen artistic potential.

“She should know better than to read it!” he snapped, thinking back to how many times he’d walked into his room to find Artemis lounging on his bed reading it aloud. Thalia and Reyna, he remembered, would chastise her about it the couple of times they also caught her. Reyna had left him tongue tied, blushing, and flustered when she actually pulled the be-unicorned volume out of his sister’s hands and gave it back to him.

It’s why they were his favorites among the Hunters, though he would never tell anyone that.

His mother, for all the faults Lester was not ready to admit, had never once snooped in his diary. Even if his life had been a lie, something about the idea made him believe it was true even millennia back.

What had changed between then and now, aside from him somehow becoming just some mortal kid?

Meg set down made a big show of setting down the tray. She’d mentioned ‘her brother isn’t feeling well’ and gotten the staff to give her one loaded with fruit and muffins. Lester wadded up the napkin as Meg pulled a chair beside him so close their shoulders knocked together.

(When did she get almost as tall as him?)

With his throat still sore, eating went slowly, but he enjoyed the simple quiet of the meal. When Meg finished her juice, Lester grabbed her mug and set it where a third person would sit if there wasn’t a wall across from them. He even set a napkin beside it.

Meg gave him a weird look when Lester got out the matchbook.

“What’s that for?”

“Well,” he started awkwardly, “You said Diana is a goddess, right? I burnt some chicken nuggets for her last night.”

“That explains the weird smell earlier.”

“Hey!”

“So what? You’re going to burn a muffin for her?” Meg asked.

“Better,” Lester said. It took some effort to make his handwriting more legible than normal, but he carefully crafted what he wanted to send. Like the previous night, he had no clue if it would work. It wasn’t his finest gift or message, but hopefully it would do its job.

He wrote it out carefully: I love you. I miss you. Meg’s with me. I’ll see you at Camp.

Meg squinted.

“You sure you want to tell her you’re going to camp?”

“I mean, let’s be honest here? At this point who wouldn't figure out I’m going to see my cousins? Anyone wanting to look for me will have an easier time going that way. Besides, I already called Lily twice and had her talk to Mom.”

Meg pressed her fingers to her temples, a look of pained annoyance on her face.

“You ran away and you told people exactly where you’re going?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want them to think I’m in trouble.”

Meg swatted his arm.

“Hey!”

In light of there being a fire alarm in the room itself, Lester burned the impromptu offering of a note and one of the blueberry muffins on the balcony.

He prayed to his sister she got the note.

---

Will, Nico, Austin, Kayla, Yan, and Gracie. His children and future son-in-law. The ones who’d saved him when he’d last been mortal even if none of them would ever realize how much they had done for him. Those he had to make sure he never forgot above anyone else save his sisters and mother.

When was the last time he had visited Camp Half-Blood? A week ago? A month? The previous summer? Apollo knew he’d visited after his Trials, but the details escaped him much unsettingly. His fingers brushed the tissue paper flower Gracie had given him at the Solstice, safely tucked behind his ear. At least he could say he’d seen them then, but not when he last went to camp.

His children’s Cabin was surprisingly clean given it was home to five – sometimes six – artists, athletes, and a budding doctor and diplomat. He dare not touch the daisies surrounding the shining building. Some instinct told him not to pick them not matter how he thought his mother would like one or two.

Listening to his instincts had helped fill in gaps in what he should know so far. Hopefully it would continue to serve him after he settled into whatever would come next. If he could trust what he knew, it wasn’t often any of them went into these cabins while divine.

He hesitated outside the door --

(Do they even still want him around?)

-- then eased it open.

The inside of his children’s cabin was rather utilitarian. The dozen sets of bunk beds pushed against the walls and a single medical cot set in the middle of it. Each bed was somehow freshly made save for Will’s, which had Nico’s jacket tossed haphazardly on it.

Apollo sighed and walked over, gently picking up the jacket and folding it properly. He may not have been the neatest person in the world himself, but Will should really be more careful with his lover’s things, especially after all Nico had been through.

Apollo pushed down the dread at not knowing what Nico had been through the more he mentally prodded at the watercolor edges of the fact.

Nico had been through a lot.

Will loved Nico very much.

Apollo himself loved Nico as a son.

He must not let himself forget these things.

Once the jacket was placed on Will’s bunk he stood up straight and glanced out the window. Given the time of day his children were likely at lunch before they had their afternoon activities. Though he wasn’t sure why it seemed only Will’s bed had any signs of recent living. Perhaps the other children had gone home to their mortal families for Christmas?

-- his heart clenched as he caught sight of the flower box of hyacinths. His fingers brushed the tissue flower behind his ear even if it wasn’t the same thing. The feeling of his ribcage being scraped raw rose up with the reminder he couldn’t Hyacinthus’s face, his voice, the way his hand felt in his, his lips on his lips were gone from him.

If he focused so much on remembering his family, would he forget Hyacinthus entirely?

He closed his eyes.

Hyacinthus would forgive him if he knew. He had to remind himself of that. Almost every serious relationship he had since then started with the thought ‘Hyacinthus would have liked them’. Even if the relationship wasn’t as long as others or even as serious as ones where he was a spouse in all but name. Even if he knew at this point he was probably romanticizing the memory he once had of the man he’d loved and been powerless to save.

The question of 'how much did he truly remember Hyacinthus before' was moot with his time now limited in scope.

Apollo had to have faith the man would eventually forgive him. Some part of him wondered if, at the end of things, if he were mortal, he might be able to finally see him again? Would they even be able to recognize one another? Had Hyacinthus already swam through the Lethe into his next life? And the next? And the next?

…would he even be able to go to the Underworld if he died a mortal?

He sat down heavily on his son’s bed as what air was in his lungs left him. Apollo had no idea when the switch over to mortality would happen or what it would look like. For all he knew his assumption could be completely wrong. Last time he’d been mortal his memory had been shot and caused issues. When he could remember properly he had what had been described to him as closely resembling absence seizures.

Would that be what would happen to him? Would he still recall himself as Apollo? Would he know his sisters and mother and children for what they were? Would memory return at inopportune times?

Would he forget Artemis’s face once more?

Dread clawed up his ribs.

He’d have to talk to his mother and sister soon. This discussion and their argument over him couldn't be avoided now. Meg needed to be told once he knew he could speak it aloud without being on the edge of collapsing. He had promised her the truth once he understood what was happening.

Nothing could be settled or decided until he told someone.

None of this was fair. He had to accept that. Whether it was up to the Fates and part of their grand design or a flash of improvised inspiration across their tapestry didn’t matter at this point: this was going to happen. One day he was going to look in a mirror and see nothing more but frizzy hair and freckles and a ring of bruises about his throat.

He felt nauseous.

He laid down and curled into the recovery position. Maybe it would help his gurgling stomach and slowly growing headache. He’d been violently sick once this week. He didn’t need to be sick again on Will’s bed.

Closing his eyes he reached out to which iterations he could still manage to see if one was the source. It was hard to focus on so much at once and he’d taken to putting what he could on autopilot.

The Sun Chariot was going smoothly for now. No turbulence or dragons or annoying stray drone. No weather balloons. Just pain in his lower back from being seated too long and the nausea growing far worse in the heat. While his concentration was focused there he rolled down the window and let in some air to help.

Then he heard the door to his children’s Cabin open and snapped his attention back. Apollo did what was probably the most immature thing possible in this situation: pretend to be asleep on his son’s bed.

The footsteps came up short. There came a groan.

“Seriously? Can he just tell when I’m trying to make out with my boyfriend in here?” Will said in a slightly whiny tone that told Apollo he was definitely his son. It took all his willpower to keep his lips from twitching into a smile.

“I mean we can always go back to my Cabin,” Nico said in an amused tone.

“But if we’re in there for hours again, Chiron is going to make us muck out the stables!”

“I could write you a doctor’s note this time.”

“Oh come on. We both know the only reason that worked is Chiron knows Dad doesn’t care who sits at his table. Ugh. Why couldn’t other people stay so we aren’t being watched constantly?”

“I mean, we could still hitch a ride with your mom when she leaves New York. She did say I was welcome with you guys.”

“You know I really don’t like how loud her concerts get these days.”

Naomi was in the city? Apollo had to force his face to remain placid even as the weight on the bed shifted just so. Likely Nico.

…he could vaguely recall the first lyrics of a song and a zing of heat that made him blush, but that was it. He had a feeling the jacket he’d taken to wearing had been a gift from her but he couldn’t be sure. His throat tightened up as Nico bounced a bit on the bed.

“Hey! Don’t wake him up!” Will said, “He really hasn’t looked good lately.”

“He’s faking,” Nico said, bouncing even more. Even worse, he lightly tapped Apollo’s hand where it rested on the mattress, “You’re not fooling anyone. I’ve seen both Will and Kayla try to do that enough to know what it looks like.”

Oh.

Oh no.

This was something else he forgot: Of the two it was Nico with the penchant for dramatics.

Even caught, Apollo was a performer at heart. This was simply another show. He shifted subtly then let out a very obviously faked groan. There was no point in it but the show itself as he stretched his arms and looked up at the pair in not-so-faux exhaustion.

“I had the most wonderful dream,” he began, “And you were there… and yo – hey!”

Will had smacked his side with a pillow.

“What’s that for?!”

“You haven’t visited at Camp in over a month!” Will snapped, “And the last time you were actually in here, Aunt Artemis was chasing you and you’ve been so weird lately! Even for you! What’s going on?!”

Oh. Oh.

Will had noticed, too.

Even if Apollo was a god, Will was nearly a prodigy when it came to medicine and healing. He had probably been the first to notice something was wrong before Apollo even did.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Someone had said everyone was worried about him.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

Will rolled his eyes and sat down on the lower bunk across from Apollo and Nico. There was a bow hanging off a hook on it. That definitely did not look anything like one of Kayla’s.

“I wouldn’t call it neglect compared to the other kids, but… What’s going on?”

He looked down at his hands. Hands he noticed the veins were blue instead of olive. Hands that weren’t as tanned as they should be. Hands holding onto reigns and swerving around a dragon, making him lose his concentration on what’s in front of him.

He closed his eyes to focus more on the Sun Chariot, his stomach rolling. It was so much harder now that he knew. Perhaps he should just stay in the Chariot during the day to keep it together?

“It’s complicated,” he said once he had gotten the Chariot back under control and could focus on his children’s Cabin, “Well, not complicated, but I’m trying to get it in order before I explain.”

“Explain to who?” Will asked.

“Everyone. I… I haven’t been well since I Ascended.” It felt like dropping a boulder off his back just saying it out loud to someone of his own volition. “Not how I was before. I suppose that’s normal. I went through a lot.” Though he questioned how much of what he recalled of that time was accurate or not. “But there’s something else wrong and it’s... I’m not quite as powerful as I once was. I suppose I’m struggling to accept I’m not who I was before. I’ve been forgetting things, people. I did a bit while I was mortal, but this has been worse and --”

He startled when Nico patted his shoulder.

“…I can’t remember my Mom’s face,” Nico cut in hesitantly, "I think that was the hardest thing I’ve been struggling with.”

Apollo looked at the boy beside him.

“...I can’t remember Hyacinthus’s,” he admits, “It’s not the same as your mother, I know, but… I remember loving him. I remember I wanted a future with him so very badly. I remember it was cut short. But I can’t remember his face beyond the color of his eyes, his voice… the things we talked about. I don’t know anymore if that’s normal or not, but I clung to it for so long it’s been uncomfortable to realize. It trips me up whenever I remember I forgot that, like the whole world has spun off its axis.”

Nico’s expression softened into something vulnerable, his lip trembling just so.

“Did you forget anyone else? Before?”

“Not intentionally. Never intentionally.” Funny, he used to brag his memory was perfect but now he questioned if it had ever been true. How much had been perfect recall and how much had been him filling in the holes the passage of time naturally caused?

“You remember you loved her, right? And she was good to you? The same as your sister?”

Nico’s eyes were misty, but he nodded. It was then Apollo noted his son’s boyfriend was wearing Will’s flannel jacket.

The same son who quietly cut in with:

“…do you remember Mom’s face?” Will asked.

Apollo looked at his son, also looking fairly vulnerable. Apollo couldn’t remember all the details and it stung, but he knew Naomi was a wonderful woman. The relationship in and of itself had run its course. He couldn’t remember the exact details, but the breakup had been amicable. If they hadn’t found out about Will coming a few months later he probably would have been nothing but a footnote in her life.

From what he understood, Will also understood that things had run their course, even if like every child he wished for more time with both his parents.

“…you look a lot like I did when I met her,” he says, thinking it over and trying to pick out the details. The exact nature of the relationship he had with Naomi was not one he wanted to go into detail with his fifteen year old son, but there’d been friendship there. He could almost hear how musical her laughter had been and a fond smile came over his face.

“But your smile is entirely hers. The way you sometimes twist that curl by your ear. That wrinkle between your brow when you concentrate on something. The way you hold yourself when you have to take charge is exactly like how she commands the crowd when on stage.”

In fact…

He took off his jacket and held it out.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Your mother gifted me this when we were dating. Nico’s is too slender for you.”

Will’s eyes went wide before he took the jacket. Sequins and fringe had never been Will’s style, but there was something about seeing the result of that brief happy time being given the gift. There was a mistiness to Will’s eyes, his lips wobbling in a way Apollo had seen in the mirror one too many times.

“...what was Michael’s dad like?”

“Michael?”

“Yeah. His dad, um… his dad died when his satyr found him. He didn’t talk about him much other than he was born of a song.” There was a sad, nostalgic smile on his face. He looked up at the bow hanging off the hook on the bunk bed.

Apollo’s heart pounded in his chest. He could take a guess as

“Who’s Michael?”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘who’s Michael’? How could you forget Michael? What about Lee?”

“Um, uh --”

He froze under his son’s pain. He could see the confusion and pain shifting to frustration and he could not blame his boy for it at all. Whoever Lee and Michael were, they had been important. He’d known Michael’s father somehow. Enough Will expected him to know him like he knew Naomi and --

Apollo barely kept himself from throwing up only by reminding himself he was the adult in the room.

“Will, I --”

“You’re supposed to be better than them, Dad!” Will snapped at him, “You may not have remembered where everyone was, but we used to brag you would claim us within like a month of us being here! And you can’t remember Lee and Michael? What about the others?”

He felt dizzy. Who was he forgetting? Who was he forgetting? Who was he forgetting?!

He swallowed down the urge to put down divine wrath on someone raising their voice and threatening curses and wrath upon them. He wasn’t that person anymore and this was his son. His son who had every right to be angry if --

A dozen sets of bunk beds. Room for two dozen children. And there’s only six living here when one counts Nico into the equation.

How many of his children are gone? How many has he forgotten without realizing it?

Will was ranting, but the ringing in Apollo’s ears was louder.

Kayla and the green in her hair her father helped dye because he insisted she do it right.

Will and his love of Nico and how protective he was of the younger kids.

Austin and his saxophone and keen eye.

Gracie who made the flower just behind his ear.

And Yan who… who…

Why couldn’t he remember Yan beyond he exists? He surely met his mother? Had claimed him somehow? He… he didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t kno --

“Will, stop it!” Nico called, “He’s having another panic attack!”

When did he have a panic attack in front of them before?

Oh.

He said that out loud, didn’t he?

“When Rachel gave us the prophecy about Tartarus. Remember that?” Will spat out.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Will looked contrite. He sat heavily on the bed and looked down at the floor. Apollo knew that expression on his face. It was yet another he saw on the mirror before.

“Hey, come here.”

“What?”

“My hugs aren’t as good as my mom’s, but no one’s too old for a hug from their dad.”

Will hesitated and looked to Nico who rolled his eyes. Nico wrapped his arms around Apollo’s middle.

“See? I’m not exploding because your dad is here.”

Apollo stood as Will did and enveloped his son in a hug. He could guess what the whole ‘prophecy about Tartarus’ meant had happened and he’d missed it. How could he have missed his son and his boyfriend going down to Tartarus?!

He’d have to make sure not to neglect them. Even after becoming mortal, he’d make sure to give them attention, support them however he could. Sundays would be for Meg’s piano lessons, but Saturdays would be for trying to reach them. After he talked to his sister and mother and told them they could make plans for the --

Oh. Oh.

Is that what his mother meant back when she asked if he knew where she’d been?

---

Lester tried desperately not to think about the pimple erupting on his chin or the twinges just under his skin of more building. As much as the acne tended to look terrible and made him want to weep, it was also uncomfortable, painful. He remembered there was one break out several years ago before he and his mother figured out a good routine it hurt to even laugh. He did his best to remind himself he would return to his usual skincare routine when he got home and was grounded forever and oily skin tended to look amazing and wrinkle free when you were older.

He stared in the mirror and thought of last night. The dark hair around his shoulders, the shape of the draw, the taller body….

What had that been earlier? A vision? A hallucination? His mother said he used to be prone to sleepwalking, but had that ever really been sleepwalking? How long ago had it been? A couple years, a decade, a century, a millennia?

Just how much had he been lied to about?

In fact…

“Hey, Meg?” he asked.

“What?” his sister said, tying her gardening belt around her waist. A travel toothbrush hung from her mouth, but Lester had no problem understanding her. Meg always chewed on things. A travel toothbrush was probably the most mundane version.

“How far back can you remember?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Well… I didn’t even realize I forgot or misremembered stuff until yesterday and… you said we met a couple years ago, but everything before that is… I don’t know. There’s bits and pieces there and it’s foggy, but… I thought that was normal.”

"I can remember back to when I was three.”

“Three?!” he cried, looking at her stricken. Meg shrugged her shoulders.

“Back to my dad. My real dad, not my stepdad.”

“When did Mom get married?”

There was a crumpled look on Meg’s face like he just said something that would give her terrible horrible nightmares and Lester was immediately sorry for bringing it up.

“My biological mom,” she eventually said, “She’s actually your aunt, but your family tree is really messed up because your dad’s a slut.”

“Should I be insulted by that?”

“Nah, he’s an asshole.”

His left arm tingled, a little zing shooting up it that made him flinch as he mixed some water and the motel conditioner in his hands for something to help how puffy his curls had gotten. Sometimes he wondered if he should just cut it all off in a buzz cut like most of the boys at school did and be done with it, or get a shaggy pixie like Meg had asked him to cut her hair into the last time she’d visited.

But the question of his father was something for later. They gathered their food together and didn’t bother with check out as they got to the car.

Once they got into the parking lot he ducked back yelling ‘crap!’

“What?”

“How did Thalia get here?” he asked, seeing the familiar jacket and dark hair of her standing at the checkout desk.

“I mean, Artemis is Goddess of the Hunt and you’ve sent two offerings now. It was only a matter of time.”

Lester cursed under his breath. Why didn’t he think of that? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

As upset as he was about all these secrets, as much as his mind felt like it was going to turn to mush and dribble out of his ears the more he found out, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it or wish he hadn’t. There was a reason he’d called Liliane to tell his mom where he was going. There was a reason he was certain what was awaiting him when he got to Camp Half-Blood was a wonderful afternoon with his cousins, a few more answers to what had happened to him, and several very serious conversations with his mother and sister.

In his heart of hearts he had faith they’d make up again. Things would go back to some semblance of normal. He used to be a god, right? Now he’s not. They somehow got to some kind of normal even if it was kind of messed up. They can figure out a new normal now that he knows the truth, right?

Everything will be okay.

It has to be.

That still didn’t solve the problem of Thalia talking to the receptionist. Part of him wanted to go to her, talk to her. Tell her he found out the truth and ask his questions. Did she know? Did she know him before? Did Reyna? Is that why they were so nice to him?

Did he get to hang out with her and the Hunters before, too, or had they just been indulging him.

But he knew she’d probably drag him back to the Hunters and then home to his mom and what was running off like this even for?

His heart hurt as he turned from the reception and looked at Meg.

“Skipping paying?” she said and he nodded. It was eerie how he and Meg managed to walk so nonchalantly to the car, heart in his throat, a little voice screaming in his head that Thalia would take him back to Artemis! He just needed to turn around, drag both himself and Meg back, and pull her into a hug.

It sucked. This whole mess sucked, but he had made his choice and he had to stick to it until the end.

Notes:

Me: Oh hey! The ending is in sight maybe for real this time! I think I will wait until I've fully finished editing the remaining chapters since I need to thread the needle very carefully!

A promotion, a move, a health scare or two, and an election later.

Me: Screw it! I will not let the ao3 curse defeat me!

So yeah, not the regular update schedule I was hoping for (hopefully!) home stretch, but I am getting this thing completed no matter what!

Also regarding the Nico Di Angelo Adventures: I started this before TSATS was even announced and planned it without that into consideration. I ultimately decided to continue as planned so please excuse the glossing over and a lack of compliance to the book.

Chapter 23: Beast and Burdens

Summary:

Lester learns a bit more of the past.

Apollo calls his mother.

Notes:

CW: Discussion of abuse, death, and existential dread.

As they sailed down the road at sixty-something miles an hour Lester kept checking the rearview mirror, still half convinced Thalia had spotted them back at the hotel.

It wouldn't surprise him to find Diana chasing them down the highway as they drove. Fortunately, a hawk or two were the only things going in their direction besides other vehicles. Meg had made no comment on them so Lester assumed they were harmless.

Meg herself leaned an arm against the window. His cow was on her lap and tucked into the seatbelt as she watched the passing scenery. Lester was quiet, knuckles white on the wheel as he wove in and out of traffic.

Funny, he couldn’t clearly remember driving before, but now it was as easy as breathing. Was that because of --

“I told you so,” Meg spoke up.

“Don’t start.”

“Well, it’s true. You want to get to Camp, right? We both know your mom is going to be there now.”

“I know.”

“And you know what will happen if you talk to your mom, right?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure I do.”

He had always struggled to say no to her. Before he'd assumed it was the fact she was his mother and he knew she meant well. Now he had no idea if it was because he genuinely had trouble, by some kind of design, or the fact he and his mother were now two very different beings. Sometimes when she told him to do things he got dizzy or a headache. Smething he had always thought had been his upset at her telling him to do his chores or annoyance at being told no and struggling with it. It never once occurred to him it could have been supernaturally-induced.

A lot of things had never occurred to him before.

“Good,” Meg said, “I was worried.”

“Everyone’s worried about me.”

(He doesn’t like it.)

“Can you blame anyone?”

Lester considered this as he weaved between two cars perhaps a little too quickly. Between how everything felt too big sometimes, his inability to perceive what was in front of him, and monsters literally existing that wanted to eat him, could he blame anyone at all for worrying?

“Not really, considering all the weirdness of the last few days. If it was anyone but you who told me I’d think they were making fun of me.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I love you, but…” Meg fidgeted with the ear of his cow. The radio the only thing breaking the silence as she looked out the window again.

A half hour later, Lester decided he could use a little more of the truth.

“….soooo, you’re a demigod.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m not.”

“Not right now. I mean, I don’t know how it all works. You barely understood how it worked when you were still a god, but my birth mom’s a goddess.”

He scrunched up his nose.

“So we have different moms. Did we share dads at all?” The idea of he and Meg sharing the same father made him feel so sick to his stomach he almost pulled over.

("Several people have expressed concern for you, Phoebus. I myself am among them.")

“No," Meg said with a shake of her head, "I don’t think your mom ever met my dad or stepdad.”

“Huh?”

“My stepdad… he was awful, a monster. It took a while for me to be able to understand what he was doing, but I think that’s how these things work. It’s… He convinced me when he was being terrible it was the Beast who did it, not him. Like he was a different person entirely. It’s not like the goddy thing with Diana and Artemis. That confused me for a while, but in those cases the name doesn’t matter. All the aspects say they’re the same person at the core, not act like they’re two completely separate people.”

Rage, old and ancient and terrifying filled Lester at the word ‘Beast’. He had to take a deep breath and loosen the painful grip he had on the steering wheel. Everything in him wanted to find this man, this Beast and tear his head off, make it bleed and scream and cry, fill it with disease and make it sing a ballad of its own pain and terror. Make it hurt such that it would dare not breathe in the direction of all he loved and Lester would singsingsing with the unbridled joy of the Beast’s suffering.

Lester took in a sharp breath, tried to force down the bile of the anger so strong in him.

“Was he Lu’s husband?”

Meg barked out a laugh.

“No. No. Lu worked for him. She’s probably the only reason I managed to stay sane with my stepdad. He appointed her my bodyguard and trainer and on paper she was my legal guardian so she could take me to doctors and stuff. Probably the only good thing he ever really did for me.”

She smiled sadly at that, her head leaning against the window.

“You got me away from him when we met.”

Those words were like a balm, quenching the ancient fire rising up in his chest.

“I did?”

“Yeah. I wish I’d had a chance to tell you this sooner, but your mom is really protective. I get it -- you made some really weird decisions and did some messed up stuff when we first met and scared the hell out of me, but… I wish she’d have let me talk to you like this. You’re the only one who’d get it. And you don’t really remember anymore.”

It was hard to think beyond the need to hurt, beyond wanting to kick and beat his fists into the nearest hard surface. If he didn’t have a passenger on the freeway, Lester knew he would have probably tried to fling himself out the door to get away from how all-consuming the anger was. Maybe Meg would understand even as he got it out through teeth gritted so hard it was painful.

“If it helps: I think I remember wanting to atomize the guy.”

Meg laughed at that.

“You already did.”

(“I revoke your divinity!”)

The words echoed in his head in his own voice but different, a lyrical fierce edge to it much like when his mother and Diana were emotional and their accents became more prominent.

“I did?”

“Yeah, it was like the only cool thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“Hey, I’m plenty cool!”

The anger melted away and left him raw and on edge, as if he’d been opened up and everything in him scooped out. He turned on his signal to take the next exit. He couldn’t keep driving like this. He just couldn’t.

Meg held up Jason. “Says the four thousand and change former sun god who still sleeps with a stuffed animal!”

“Diana has a deer to match! And I was gonna ask Mom if we could make you a unicorn!”

Meg dropped the cow.

“What?”

Lester could feel his face burning, the hollowness clawing up his ribs, but if he focused on the road he could keep it together.

He hoped.

Just long enough to find someplace to park.

“I told you, I don’t care if you’re technically my cousin or even share DNA. You’re my sister in all the ways that matter. Mom would probably figure out moving you and the other kids in if Lu wasn’t so good with all of you. And --”

He fell silent as he spotted a Walmart. It was someplace safe to park for a while and they probably needed the restroom and some supplies. A yelp escaped him when he almost sideswiped someone getting off the freeway because of the dissipating heat just behind his breastbone and his mind skipping across bits and pieces of screaming.

“...were the other kids at your place raised by your stepdad, too?” he said while deciding on a parking spot.

“Yeah. We’re… well, we’re still working through stuff. Not really close, but…. We’ve been working on it.”

“I wish I’d talked to them more,” he said and genuinely meant it, “They could probably use a friend, too.”

Meg pinched him.

“You’re my brother. I’m only sharing you with Diana because she’s cool. Maaaybe Cassius because for some reason he thinks you’re cool, too, and needs to learn you’re not. I guess, once we get to Camp and stuff, there’s nothing stopping you from calling them, too. You only ever called me for piano lessons.”

“Did I teach you piano before?”

“Every Sunday. You kept your promise about it. You never forgot.”

The hollowness faded just so. He kept his promise. He managed to keep up with something. Lester could work with that.

He opened his wallet to see what they could do about lunch.

“....do you wanna tell me more about us?”

A crooked smile, much like Diana’s, came across Meg’s face.

“Let me tell you about the time we went to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine. It was nuts. You tried to get a date with a minor wind nymph, got swirlied by a satyr, and threw up all over yourself.”

“MARGARET MCCAFFREY!” he shrieked.

Meg’s grin turned maniacal. A hysterical part of Lester wished he’d just crashed them off the side of the freeway.

He was his sister’s captive audience. She began to regale him with every embarrassing thing he’d done in her presence while still a god, uncaring who heard as they went to get something to eat.

Diana was a terrible influence on her!

 

---

With the horses stabled and fed, Apollo flopped onto his massive bed and pulled his cow over to him. He jostled his cow and looked at it, such a little thing he’d had forever. Something he knew his mother had made for him once upon a time in her long journey across the continent for someplace to bring he and his sister into the world. The red and white face looked at him, the ears mismatched and fraying because the ear was coming loose.

That’s all Apollo could think about as he toyed with the loose thread. Funny, he hadn’t held the toy as much as he had lately, since he decided to name it and give it a purpose. It was something he’d had since his earliest days, even if there was not a stitch of the original fiber in it. The only thing he’d had as long as his mother and sister.

Apollo knew he could fix it himself. He’d spent many nights on the road mending Meg’s clothes, patching here, mending there, meticulously adjusting knots and seams so she wouldn’t fidget so. Back then he hadn’t understood why she never admitted the seams of her socks or the tags in clothes bothered her. Even diminished as he was, a wave of his hand could fix it, but it wouldn’t be the same. He’d learned, as a mortal, the time put into these things meant more than simply giving them with no thought put into it.

There would be a needle and thread somewhere, but his conversation with his son and future son-in-law nagged in the back of his mind. There was a lot that would need to be addressed and he couldn’t dally.

Apollo hoped his suspicions weren’t right. Once he’d had a chance to rest, he’d spent the rest of the afternoon with Will and Nico. As he’d suspected, the rest of his children had gone to their mortal parents for the holidays after the Solstice and Naomi was indeed in New York. Will and Nico had relayed the story of going to Tartarus to him, which had not been something he’d ever wanted to happen. First Artemis had gone to save him and then Will had gone with Nico down to Tartarus to save… Bob? Whoever that was.

Despite how much he ached and how sick he felt and knowing he should properly eat now that he was somewhere between mortal and divine he needed to call his mother.

He rested the cow on his chest, worrying at the loose ear as he put his phone on speaker.

As usual, she picked up after three rings.

“Hi Mama,” he said. It was all he could get out before his mother cut in.

“Sweetheart, why did you and Meg leave dinner the other day?”

“You know why,” he said, “You and Artemis were arguing. Someone had to be the adult and look after Meg.”

“You know you don’t have to be responsible for your sister.”

“I do when I’m the adult and she’s the child here. She’s been through enough in the last twelve years. She doesn’t need to be caught up in family squabbles.”

“Sweetheart, we’re worried about you.”

He pinched his nose. This was why he preferred the phone to an Iris Message for this conversation or even just showing up at her door. If he had to look his mother in the face right then he knew he’d crumble, headache or no.

“I know you are. I think I know what’s going on, too.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” she said, “Do you know how to fix it?”

He could swear whatever burgeoning heart he had in his chest stopped for a moment at that.

Was this fixable? Did he want to get his hopes up when he’d only just realized his fate? If he was to become mortal would he want to spend what life he had trying to search for divinity once more and only let what time he had slip through his fingers? What if it was all for naught? How many times had he almost lost his chance at returning to divinity in the last year alone?

“No,” he said, the words like ash on his tongue. Telling his family would be frightening enough. He didn’t want to get his mother and sisters’ hopes up only for it to all be a wash “…but once I know a little more I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

“Well, when? The way this has been progressing – and then how out of it you were after the Solstice. There’s more going on than your memory, isn’t there?”

He bit his lip and pulled his cow over to hug it. He knew his mother would rather have this conversation over the phone than an Iris Message as well. She and him were far too much alike at times. Just as Will got all his best qualities and none of the bad, Apollo liked to think he got his mother’s better qualities just as Artemis got the best of their father.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you were in Tartarus the last decade or so.”

The sharp breath on the other end told him he’d guessed right. In this instance he hated being right.

“Who told you?”

“No one. I found out one of your grandsons apparently took a trip I forgot he was planning with his boyfriend. And Artemis told me she brought me up after Python and I plunged down. At this point the only one in this family who hasn’t been to Tartarus is you and Meg and I know Meg hasn’t been to Tartarus ever in her life and would like to keep it this way.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Mama, you want me to be more honest with you. You’ve got to be honest with me. Why were you in Tartarus? Why were you keeping this from us?”

“Artemis knows. You…. Forgot. I didn’t want you to worry. Besides, it was my decision to go back there, not yours.”

“Your decision? Who just decides to go to Tartarus?”

“Be quiet.”

Apollo felt dizzy, even over the phone. His stomach churned. His hearts palpated. He could not open his mouth to even protest.

“Sit up straight.”

He’d been curled up in bed, but suddenly it was like he was being pulled up by a string at the top of his head. The idea of saying no to His Mother didn’t even occur to him as he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Shoulders back, chin lifted so if he sang he could project all the way to the back rows, his back a perfect arch that in his current condition would ache if he kept it up for hours on end like he used to.

“Mom...?” he said, dazed, confused.

“You forgot I can do that to you and your sister, didn’t you?” his mother said in a small voice. His memory wasn’t the best right now, but he knew her well enough to know she was nervous, afraid, the same way he had been when he turned up on her doorstep after the Solstice.

“What just…?”

“It was a few years after you were born I realized I could do that to you and your sister. It’s why I decided to never have more children,” she explained, “Then Meg’s stepfather approached me almost a decade ago.”

His brows furrowed, anger and heat flooding through him. He remembered all too well all the things Nero had done to Meg and he could only imagine why he’d speak to his mother.

“What did he do?”

“He had his fingers in several pots, just waiting for an opportunity,” she said, “He came ‘on behalf of Kronos’, but I’ve met too many like him. He was a snake with his own plans, biding his time, and backing whoever could make those plans easiest for him until he was in over his own head. I have no doubt if Kronos won the war he would have taken advantage of the chaos to backstab him just as he likely did his co-emperors in that triumverate of his.”

“Mom, what did he do to you?”

“He told me exactly what your father has done to you behind closed doors. What your father probably just did to you once he got you alone. Phoebus, why didn’t you ever tell your father was hurting you? How long has he been hurting you?”

("Several people have expressed concern for you, Phoebus. I myself am among them.")

“This isn’t about me, Mom.”

“Except it is." He heard a rustling over the line that made Apollo picture her moving to sit up a little straighter.

"He wanted me to use you and Artemis against your father and other siblings in the war against your grandfather. If not that, then he wanted me to make you both stand aside. I refused, because you and your sister are grown and deserve your own choice. Part of being a mother is recognizing when your children should be independent from you.”

“Mom, what did he do?”

“I told him no. Absolutely not. You and your sister are the most important things in the world to me, but I refused to take your choices from you. Especially when the only reason he wanted me to was to use you as a pawn later from what I later learned. It’s been a very long time since I held a bow for combat and a kitchen knife can only do so much in close quarters when he had several associates with him. The next I’d been conscious I was told Gaea was rising again.”

….he remembered Kronos, but not Gaea. Best not to mention he couldn't remember when he was still dizzy and he couldn’t get his eyes away from the top of the frame of the painting of him and nine wonderful women there he couldn’t recall the names of, but knew he held warm feelings for.

“Once I clawed my way out of Tartarus and found you were mortal and being punished, I told your father of Nero, of what he tried to do. I begged him to go easy on you since he was playing right into those Emperor’s hands and…”

His mother was not an unemotional woman. Artemis always said Apollo had gotten his ‘hysterics’ from her and he gladly accepted the barb. But like Artemis, he knew the difference between when his mother was simply being dramatic for effect and when she was truly upset. She sounded on the edge of tears and Apollo swallowed down the idea of bursting out with his impending mortality. That was something he needed to tell her face to face, once he had more properly come to terms with the notion.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly once his mother had settled. He knew better than to speak up when she got like this. She had never liked the idea of her children comforting her when it had been her role to guide and protect them.

“Why didn’t you say anything about your father?”

Apollo went so quiet even the world around him still into silence.

“We both know how your father can be. He’s softer in the last millennia or so, but look what he did to you for something you had no control over. The only good out of it was Meg is part of the family now.”

Apollo couldn’t help the sad laugh that escaped him.

“How does Artemis put up with us?”

“I have no idea," his mother said with a soft laugh, "She isn’t an easily lovesick drama queen like the two of us,"

“Do you want to have dinner again in a couple weeks?” he offered, “I’m trying to figure out more of what’s going on and… processing. I promise I’ll tell you then.”

How does he explain his mother might lose him after everything she'd sacrificed?

“We really should hash everything out," he continued, "No more secrets between us, especially after the last century or so.”

“What about next Sunday?” she asked.

“Deal. You and me and Artemis. I’ll let Meg know we’re hashing things out so she doesn’t feel left out. The whole thing with you two fighting… I’m not going to lie, it made both of us uncomfortable.”

“That’s my little boy,” Leto said with a soft laugh, “Always looking out for those he cares for. You sound exhausted and your sister is likely working now. I’ll let her know about our plans while you get some rest.”

“Thank you, Mama,” he said as he finally laid back down and tugged his cow close again. The phone call continued for much later than it probably should have. His mother talked about her latest project to restore her garden of frogs until he fell asleep.

Notes:

If a good chunk of Meg and Lester's section looks familiar and deja vu-y since the original version, you're not going crazy. As I was editing, I realized it fit more here than in the last chapter and removed the extra bits from the previous chapter.

RE: Leto: I've been sitting on the "Nero took out Leto" headcanon for THREE YEARS. Part of the fun of fandom is filling in the holes and what makes the most sense to me is 'Nero approached Leto to get to Apollo and Artemis, she refused to help, he had her killed and she respawned in Tartarus. She doesn't come back up topside until Apollo is already Lester'd.'

Headcanons are fun. :>