Chapter Text
She meets storm grey eyes and wants nothing more than to wake up.
Instead, she grimaces—a mocking imitation of a smile. Once, she might’ve grinned at her mother, so desperate for her approval and so afraid of showing disrespect to a Goddess.
Too much has happened between them for Annabeth to give into that buried instinct to bare her neck and seek out Athena's approval. Vague dreams, senseless quests and the absolute assurance of her mother's love is all that lay between them.
Never before has she understood Luke more than since the Giant War ended. Time to reflect upon all that's transpired has slid into time to resent all that was asked of her.
Voicing her feelings—anger, confusion, love, sadness, fear—will gain her nothing more than pursed lips and a narrowed stare from eyes so alike and yet foreign to her own, so instead she attempts to twist her grimace into something more pleasant and spoke neutrally; "Hello, Mother."
"Annabeth," she said, and for all the lives in Elysium Annabeth cannot interpret what emotions break through her steady countenance. Regret, perhaps, or even sadness. Not disappointment, for she has done Athena too proud to be regarded as such. Eventually, Annabeth decides that Athena is just as unsure as she is about the nature of their relationship—and isn't that a terrifying conclusion?
Annabeth has long since learned that the Gods aren't infallible, yet it shocks her every time she is forced to confront the knowledge.
"Is something wrong?"
And she thinks that there must be, for why else would Athena have shown up in her dreams? Still, Annabeth prays to the Fates that she is wrong. So little time had passed between the Titan and Giant War—and even less time since the Earth was extinguished. She hopes more than anything that this isn't the onset of a new threat, but this bitter reminder of the last time her mother had appeared in her dreams does little to assuage her fears.
"No," she said, and was this anybody else Annabeth might’ve called her countenance awkward. "Rather, given what has occurred these recent years, I believe it would be prudent to preempt any such threats before we are met with drastic and lasting consequences once more."
For the briefest, most terrifying second, Annabeth believes she's talking about Percy. And why wouldn't she? Athena has always disliked Percy, vocally opposing him and making her disapproval of him known.
But she realises that can't be the case, because Athena would not come to Annabeth about this. She would be on Olympus, imploring Zeus and the Gods to turn their forces to the indomitable threat that is Perseus Jackson.
She would have little success, Annabeth thought smugly. Most of the Olympians like, or at least begrudgingly respect Percy.
"What do you mean?" she asked. There are countless threats still about, but few she would consider worthy of her mother's attention. Arachne was far more dangerous to her children than Athena herself and the same applied to the other monsters. She doubted the Primordials would be making a move so soon after Gaea's failure and she understood that the other Pantheons had an agreement not to interact with each other or their dangers. It would not do well for the Greeks to interfere with Ragnarok, or for Ra to supersede Zeus, so respecting their respective domains was the agreed upon—and in Annabeth's opinion, flimsy—solution.
"The aliens," Athena spat with no little disdain.
Ah, yes. The aliens.
"I thought they were the Norse's prerogative?" she asked carefully, even though she knew it was a dumb question.
"Krypton is not part of the Nine Realms. Nor is Tamaran, and the multitude of other systems that have emerged in this new age."
And she isn't wrong—Annabeth had asked Magnus about it, when she compared notes with her dead-but-not-dead second-cousin. His understanding was that the Nine Realms had formed simultaneously—with Midgard and its multiple Pantheons a strange exception—and that the other systems and galaxies and planets simply didn't fall under their rule. He hadn't understood it much, but Annabeth had a standing appointment with his friend Sam to figure out more about it
"And how do you plan to preempt them?" Annabeth asked, and couldn't help the fear—the raw desperation—that leaked into her voice. "You can't want to attack them." Not now, not so soon—not ever.
"No," Athena agreed. "My father has forbidden all contact with these outer lifeforms, but after all that has occurred, I believe it is only a matter of time before we are forced to contend with them. There have already been a number of skirmishes and invasions, as I'm sure you're aware."
There was no way she couldn't be, not with how close to home some of these attacks had come.
How especially close to home they came.
Annabeth's heart seized in her chest as the realisation dawned on her. No wonder Athena had come to her about this.
"You can't make contact with them," she said faintly, "but I can."
Athena nodded gravely. "Given your heritage, it is only prudent that you make contact with the Justice League and investigate the situation—"
"No."
"—on my behalf." Athena's eyes flashed suddenly. "What?"
"No," Annabeth repeated. It is not the first time she's said no to her mother, but the word still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth and she has to tamp down on the instinct to take it back.
A bead of sweat drips down her forehead. It tracks a path along her face and plops off her chin before Athena speaks once more, with tense, measured words and an odd look of sympathy in her stormy eyes.
Annabeth supposed it wasn't hard to comprehend her reluctance—not when so many demigods had the exact same stance about their estranged mortal families.
And Annabeth was one of the lucky ones.
"I understand that your relationship with your father is more..." she pauses meaningfully. The pit in Annabeth's stomach simmers in response. "...strained than I had wanted for you. Still, I am not asking you to go to them, but instead to seek out Diana of Themyscira and defer to her expertise as a mediator between these aliens and Olympus. You may contact her through Queen Hylla and her branch of the Amazons, if that is what you desire."
If she went through Reyna's sister, Annabeth's message would certainly reach Diana, but not for some time. They would have to go to their sister-branch in Themyscira and make contact with Diana from there. Who knew how long it would take for such a message to even reach Diana, or for her to respond?
And if Athena wanted this mission to be accomplished without Zeus' knowledge, then Iris Messaging her was off the table, for all the risks involved. It was bound to draw attention, since Diana of Themyscira was no simple demigod, and gone were the days when Annabeth herself was just another daughter of Athena.
Annabeth really wanted to say yes, she'll go through the Amazons and arrange a meeting through them. Perhaps it would take some time, but she was willing to wait.
But as much as she hated to admit it, her mother's concern was a valid one. The aliens were an unknown and Annabeth was terrified at the prospect of them teaming up with the monsters. The sooner she spoke with Diana, the better.
She remembers Tartarus and the utter despair that had filled her when in his presence. She imagined a collaboration between the monsters and these aliens would feel a little like that.
She exhaled slowly. As always, there was little use in arguing with the Goddess of Wisdom. You'd think she'd have learned better by now.
"Fine. I'll do it." Annabeth paused, taking one last moment to truly consider the weight of what she was agreeing to—and the consequences sure to follow. "I'll return to Gotham."
Annabeth had considered going home before on multiple occasions.
When she was seven on the cold, hard streets of Gotham, just after running away from a life of luxury for the harsh comfort of nights where spiders couldn't reach her. If Luke and Thalia hadn't found her then, Annabeth might really have given in to the tempting promise of Alfred's hot soup and her father's warm hugs.
When she was twelve and Percy had encouraged her to go home. Annabeth had most seriously considered it then. She'd penned a letter to Alfred, begging to come home, for forgiveness, but she just couldn't bring herself to send the letter in the end. She'd left it there, on the porch of the Big House and when next she returned, it was gone—whisked away by Harpies or wind or maybe Mr. D looking for a laugh.
Then, at thirteen, when she was clutching onto Thalia—her best friend, her sister, alive! And in that moment, she had briefly wondered if this sheer and utter elation was how it'd feel to step through the doors of Wayne Manor once more.
But Thalia had not been truly dead, and she was no God of Time or Death. There was no undoing her mistakes—no second chances, no assurance of forgiveness to make the fantasy last.
When she was fourteen and holding up the sky, Annabeth could faintly hear the echo Dick crooning his mother's lullaby and Jason reading aloud to her because she'd found the words so difficult to make sense of, but loved the stories and knowledge within too much to resist the temptation of their vast library.
When she was coming up on sixteen and survival was so uncertain. It was always uncertain for a demigod, but death had never before hung overhead like this.
Percy, gone. So desperate and alone, Annabeth had been so tempted to go home. At the very least, Barbara Gordon's extensive network and her father's complicated technologies could've been put to use. Then, she'd found Jason Grace and everything had changed.
In the whispers of Tartarus, hungry and hurt and so, so tired, Annabeth wondered how her life might’ve turned out had she never left. What if, what if, what if.
And then, only a few months ago, there was her second-cousin Magnus, a connection to her mortal family and an unliving reminder of all she'd given up. Dead, but not. Right there, but not really.
Annabeth told herself that Magnus was enough of a connection. She was satisfied. The lie tasted bitter and left a foul aftertaste on her tongue.
She had kept tabs, you know. Of course she'd kept tabs—it was impossible not to when they were right there. Tabloids all over were obsessed with Gotham's richest and most eccentric family.
Annabeth had heard about Tim Drake, the neighbour she had never truly known who moved in only months after she left, after Jason—... Annabeth had to admit that she was impressed with Tim. CEO at only sixteen, and a dropout to boot.
About Cassandra—the tabloids particularly loved her for being the only girl. Annabeth imagined that they would've gotten along, but that was only because the hard look in those dark eyes that stared up from the newspaper had been one she was more than familiar with. Bruce sure knew how to pick 'em.
Ironically, it was Rachel who told her all about Damian. She didn't know, of course—nobody except Percy, Grover and Thalia knew. But the kid was apparently so standoffish that their one meeting at some charity gala had left a lasting negative impression on Rachel. Annabeth was willing to bet she gave as good as she got.
She admittedly knew the least about Duke, the new kid, but that was honestly because she hadn't had time to look into the newest Wayne addition. With the war, and the clean-up afterwards and her deliberations on how to spend senior year—which she still hasn't made a decision about yet—there just hasn't been time to read tabloids or catch up on gossip. She's been meaning to see if Piper knows anything but she just hasn't found the time.
Annabeth tried not to hear about the Gotham vigilantes, and it wasn't very difficult to do so. She knew when there were new ones, and could place a lot of the identities, but she wanted to avoid all interaction with the heroes of Gotham. It was better that way.
But now...
She tells Chiron she's been given a quest and he lets her go without issue, complete trust in her judgement lending to easy agreement. She is vague with her friends and even more so with her siblings.
It's Percy she tells the truth to.
He has so much to say. She can see it in the hard line of his body, the slight disapproval in his sea-green eyes and the way his grip on Riptide has tightened significantly.
He has so much to say and she can read everything he wants to tell her with just one glance, but instead he smiles crookedly and asks, "Do you want me to come with?"
"No," she said. If Percy were to come with, she didn't think she could remain professional. Annabeth couldn't maintain a cool demeanour if he were there to act as an emotional crutch, and she knew if she gave even a hint of wanting to leave, he would whisk her away in seconds.
She needed to go alone because otherwise this would stop being a mission, and instead become something else that terrified her more than Tartarus himself.
"If you're sure." He is dubious but Percy trusts her, so he agreed just like he knew she would.
She is suddenly viciously glad that Thalia is away with the hunters and Grover is busy being the Lord of the Wild. If she were faced with all three of them, Annabeth did not think she could call this just another quest.
It needed to be just another quest. A mission given by her mother, and an important one at that. Nothing more, and nothing less.
The lie is bitter and heavy. She swallowed past the flavour and savoured it as she would ambrosia, trusting in this one need.
She gets to Gotham in no time at all. Percy does not insist on accompanying her, but he offers to ride with her on Blackhack to the city limits. She is weak and can't help but accept.
He can be her crutch a little longer.
Percy holds her in place, eyes serious and battle-hardened. He doesn't say anything for the longest time, because no words need to be exchanged. Then, he kissed her on the forehead and whispered, "Good luck."
She watches him fly away and it is a long time before she wills her body to move.
She has no celestial bronze dagger but her drakon bone sword is disguised within her ring, enchanted after the Giant War as a gift from her mother. The bag she carried had all she needed, including an actual knife because Gotham is special and dangerous, and she made the hike into the city in no time at all.
Annabeth remembered leaving and how those days of wandering with Thalia and Luke had seemed to last forever. She thinks this simple journey is a mockery of her childhood.
She could get a cab to Bristol, but these streets are familiar to her and she walks instead, through areas that are so similar yet foreign to what she struggled through as a little girl.
Pedestrians give her a wide berth and she is reminded of how the campers treat her and Percy and the Seven. There is no awe or fear in the citizens of Gotham, but they have an ingrained instinct to avoid power, whether they know it or not. You can't survive Gotham if you won't listen to your senses.
She stops at a coffee shop she doesn't recognise, and sits inside. Annabeth wonders idly if she doesn't remember this place because it's opened in the last ten years or because she simply hadn't bothered to remember this place as a seven year old. She thinks she would've—the smell alone would've had any street kid camping out in the alley behind.
Gods—ten years. Had it really been that long? Sometimes it felt as if centuries has passed, and on some days she thought it was only yesterday that she called this place home.
It was still home, in a way. Not home in the way Camp beckoned to her, a place she always itched to return to and couldn't leave for long. Certainly not home in the way Sally Jackson's apartment made her feel warm inside—loved and wanted and always welcome.
Gotham was home in that it had clawed its way deep into her soul and taken root there. She hadn't been here in ten years, but she wondered now if she'd ever truly left.
She itches for Percy and is so very glad she told him not to come. Annabeth sips from her coffee and resumes her journey.
There's a slight chill in the evening air but she doesn't feel cold at all.
It is late enough by the time she stands before Wayne Manor's imposing gates that she doubts her father will even be in. Annabeth considers donning her cap but Bruce is bound to have top of the line security and invisibility does little against heat signatures.
Knowing him, her presence had been detected from miles away.
The gates yield under her touch, allowing her to slip through. She walks up the driveway, long and winding and exactly what she needs to clear her mind.
She used to love running up and down this stretch as a little girl. It had been a game, one she played with Dick as a toddler and then—... Well she hadn't run the road in a long time.
Wayne Manor is beautiful but that is not surprising. Gothic and old, it is something she could marvel at for days. But her time is limited so instead she stops for one long moment and drinks the sight in.
Few lights are on in the many windows but that is to be expected. The manor is huge and breathtaking, an architectural wonder. She doesn't allow herself to analyse the building properly because she knows that she otherwise wouldn't leave.
She walks and walks until her nose is to the door and her fist is raised to knock. Annabeth stands there for a long time before she wills her body to move.
It opens in a matter of seconds.
"Hello, Alfred," she said, and it is a struggle to stay neutral as she looks at the aged butler. His face is white and sallow, his hair whiter and sparse. Alfred's suit is pressed and perfect, but he drops the towel he'd been holding and simply stared.
She can't move. Suddenly, she feels entirely too overwhelmed and wonders why she hadn't dragged Percy along with her. He wouldn't mind. Hell, he'd probably love the manor and not have a clue why.
Annabeth had expected Alfred to look the same but he is old and gaunt, seeming to have aged aeons since last she'd seen him. She wonders if these ten years had been as hard on him as they had been for her.
"Anna—" he blinks at her and suddenly he's put together, professional and calm, though no less pale. It was sort of impressive, honestly. You'd think this wasn't the first time one of his grandkids returned from the dead. Or whatever they thought happened to her, really. "Mistress Anna, it is good to see you again."
"You too Alfred," she said.
Then he shocks her once more as he suddenly envelopes her in a hug, forgoing his shield of professional distance as he pulls her in close. The hug is warm and safe and leaves her eyes burning.
"I missed you, dear girl," he said. She probably shouldn't be surprised, but the admission is like a punch in the gut.
Alfred had never blamed her—had never known he was supposed to—but this easy acceptance is suddenly far too much and it suddenly becomes impossible to keep a lid on her emotions.
"Me too, Alfred," she whispered, "Me too."
He brings her to the kitchen and sets a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. She remembers it tasting divine but now it is ash in her mouth.
"Only Master Duke is currently in the manor. The rest are currently out. If you would be amenable, I would seek to call them back early." He pauses, considering. "I'm afraid Master Bruce will want to insist upon a DNA test."
She snorts, but isn't surprised. Given the various dopplegangers and monsters and aliens that superheroes were sure to contend with, it only made sense.
Annabeth would like to postpone, but she is here on a mission and she grasps hold of her task like a starving man would a scrap of bread. She needs to speak with Diana. It is a goal set by her mother and one she can't afford to lose track of.
"That's fine."
"Would you prefer to wait here or accompany me?" He regarded her with an odd glint in his eye, suspicious and distrusting. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't seem to want her company either—likely on the chance she was an imposter.
"I just need to speak with Bruce," she said, because she knows he will also be calling back Dick and that is...
She doesn't know if she can ever look Dick in the eye again.
"Very well," Alfred said, and leaves her there with a pained glance. He must've called Duke to keep her company, because a yawning teenager shuffles in, squinting at her uncomfortably.
"Uhhh..." he doesn't seem to know what to make of her and Annabeth had never looked into Duke Thomas so she is just as clueless. "Have we met?"
His question is tactless and absolutely born out of sleep deprivation. She thinks of his identity, Signal, and one of the headlines she'd seen of him. 'The day shift'. A quick glance at the ticking clock tells her it is only half ten and her guilt is somewhat collided.
"No," she said, and can't keep the amusement out of her voice. She has no baggage with this kid, and with Alfred gone she feels herself relaxing minutely. "Annabeth Chase."
"Duke Thom—wait." Duke scrutinised her face, the sleep clearing from his eyes in record time. "Are you...?" she nods and he blinks in surprise. "Huh."
She couldn't contain a laugh at his nonchalant reaction. He'd probably seen weirder than this sister he's never met showing up on the doorstep.
"What have they said about me?" Annabeth asked curiously. Did they talk about her at all, or was she like Jason—a ghost only to be spoken about in airs and never directly? Duke recognised her pretty quickly so she doubted it.
"Not much," he said. "I mean, Bruce has an active ping out for you and I know Babs still looks but..." he shrugged awkwardly. "Is that why you're here—did Babs find you?"
"No." Her stomach rolls uneasily at the information. They looked—they still looked. She bristles and digs sharp nails into the palm of her hand. They were manicured, even. Piper had insisted. "Alfred's calling Bruce right now."
"You didn't wanna go down with him?"
"Didn't wanna meet the horde," she corrected.
Duke nodded approvingly. "Smart. I've been here for a while and it still gets overwhelming."
Annabeth didn't doubt that. She remembers her first days at camp, so young and so fresh. She'd already been claimed so she never had to spend a night on the floor of the Hermes cabin, but it had been no less disconcerting to transition from the cracked little family of her, Luke and Thalia to these siblings she only had because her mom had dreamed them into existence.
It became easier, as time passed and her older siblings' spots were taken by those younger than her. Annabeth had been a peculiarity to her older brothers and sisters due to her explosive arrival to camp with the daughter of Zeus that turned into a tree, but Malcom and the other Athenian newcomers had no such compunction.
But it still sometimes felt weird to know that she had so many siblings through Athena. It had been fine before, when there weren't two wars, numerous quests and so many deaths weighing her down. Now, there was simply a sense of disconnect between her and the new additions. Clarisse had spoken of it to her, and Piper had mentioned it in passing with a frown.
They were war heroes now. Not a sister, or just another camper, but someone to look up to—to respect or even worship.
She couldn't develop a normal relationship with the new Athena kids if she tried. Which she hadn't, admittedly.
Sometimes she envied Percy.
The only Godly sibling he had and really considered was Tyson—and he wanted to be Percy's brother, rather than just a roommate who happened to have the same dad.
But she supposed that this was all to be expected. Gods didn't form normal relationships.
It only made sense that their children didn't either.