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Some things I can’t whisper
Some words I can’t scream
They die in my throat.
My eyes are haunted with the ghosts of things left unsaid.
Tell me you heard them anyway.
Did you? Can you?
Silence–it says volumes.
The big house phone was a landline from what Percy thought was the 1960s. It was discolored around the receiver handle from years of use and several of the numbers on the round dialer had faded from decades of fingers spinning it. Someone had written in the numerals with sharpe a few times over the years leaving the round spaces often smeared with finger prints of varying colors. The cord had been kinked and straightened, stretched and pulled leaving the plastic coating peeling and cracked in places and the wire underneath was covered with electrical tape in several places.
Annabeth bumped his leg with her knee gently. “It’s going to be okay, Percy.”
Percy nodded and picked up the receiver from the cradle. The dial tone sounded harsh in the silence of the office.
“You want me to dial?” Annabeth asked when Percy didn’t move.
He’d remembered her number before. But now it seemed to dissolve in his mind. “917?”
Annabeth reached across him and spun the dial. “That’s right. Then?”
“241… no 421. Er–689” Percy closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t slept well since the fall. He had a headache and his body ached in ways that he hadn’t thought possible. He couldn’t remember his own number. It was right there but his mind felt like a drain at the bottom of a pool–over whelmed and flooded, but unable to hold a single thing in.
“6893.” Annabeth whispered her hand still pulling the dial around and round.
“Three.” Percy muttered. “I had it before.”
He had. He’d remembered but it felt like whatever the gorgon’s blood had done to recover his memories had slowly gone fuzzy. If it was the lack of sleep or something worse causing the effect, he didn’t know.
“I know.” Annabeth pushed the receiver up again to his ear. “It’s okay. You’ve not slept in a while and it’s not been a stress free few months. Give yourself a break, Percy.”
Percy allowed her to guide his hand and with his other reached out and took Annabeth’s. Her fingers wound around his. Her hands were calloused and her nails broken and dirt and blood lined the cracks in his skin. He ran his thumb along her knuckles. The ringer sounded fake in his ear, like a toy from his childhood. Most things had felt fake since coming back from Tartarus. Food tasted different, sounds were too sharp and the pitch off, even the feel of water wasn’t the same.
Annabeth had told him that he needed his ears checked and that his tastebuds had been burned by the phlegm river. While she had reassured him that the way water felt was in his imagination, he knew she was just trying to reassure him. She had no way of really knowing.
“Hello?”
Percy’s breath caught in his throat. It had been too long. He’d not heard her voice since December of last year. All worries and fears fell from his mind.
“Mom.” His voice broke on the word.
Annabeth’s grip on his hand tightened.
“Percy?” His mom’s voice was louder now, more frantic. “Percy, where are you? Are you okay?”
Now that he was able to, he didn't know what to say. He’d thought about talking with her since he remembered her. He’d wanted to tell her everything. He’d wanted to sit across from her and rant–to complain and air all his grievances with the gods, with the universe itself. Now though the words built in his chest but died in his throat.
He looked at Annabeth hopelessly. What did he say? Hi mom, sorry about vanishing off the face of the earth, but I was kidnapped, and thrown into hell.
Annabeth took a deep breath, and inclined her head towards him. A silent: Breathe.
Percy did. He let the air in and out of his lungs twice before he answered.
“We’re back at camp. Can you come get us?” The two sentences felt harder than he’d ever imagined.
“I’m on my way. I’m coming. Percy, honey, I’m getting the keys right now. Don’t move, okay?”
“Okay.” Percy’s voice was a whisper. He let the sounds of her throwing something on the other side of the line wash over him. He could picture her pulling shoes out of the closet, looking for a matching pair. Then the image vanished. Annabeth had confirmed. They had moved.
Percy knew they were. It was the plan. Move in January. But the fact he couldn’t picture his own home, made it feel like he was losing his memory all over again.
“Paul! Paul!” He heard his mom call.
Her muffled shouts and whatever Paul’s response was was lost to him.
“Mom?”
“I’m here!” She said in a rush. “I’m still here, honey.”
“I need you to know–I didn’t want to leave.” He wasn’t sure why it was so important to say. He doubted that she had ever blamed him. She likely hadn’t ever thought it was his fault.
“I know.” She was crying. “I know, I’m so sorry that this happened to you.”
Percy closed his eyes. He had to explain, to warn her. He wasn’t the same. He looked half dead. He almost wondered if the death mist hadn’t fully left–or if it ever would. His bones were still too prominent, and his skin felt tight in places leaving him feeling like his body had been vacuumed.
“I look–I look kinda…bad.” He glanced at Annabeth. “I don’t want you to worry, but some of the campers were–”
Clarisse had broken a spear shaft when she’d seen him. Travis had looked ill. Chiron had looked fearful.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. Are you–Are you hurt?” Her voice wobbled.
“Not really.” He glanced down at the bruises and cuts on his body. He pushed away the worry he’d been carrying about his and Annabeth's lungs. “I’m not 100, but I’m not missing an arm or something.”
The joke fell flat. He didn’t laugh and neither did she.
“We’ll deal with whatever it is.” She sounded so sad.
He hated that he was causing her pain. “How soon–Mom, I really want to go home.”
“We’re in the car now. So an hour and a half.”
The drive should have taken two and a half in good traffic. “Okay. I should go pack.”
He didn’t want to hang up. He wanted to listen to her breathing until she was at the border. As if reading his mind, Annabeth squeezed his hand and stood. “I’ll get it. You talk for a bit more.”
Percy tried not to feel panic at her leaving. It was just his mother. He could talk to her. It wasn’t hard. But like everything else he had forgotten her. It felt like a betrayal. She had been all he had for years and years.
“Percy?” Her voice sounded far away. “Honey, are you still there?”
Percy blinked and shook himself slightly. “Yeah, Annabeth went to pack for me.”
His mother hummed. “That was very sweet of her. She would visit me, you know.”
“Yeah. She–” Percy felt his jaw snap shut. He realized he hadn’t told her, hadn’t asked. “Mom, she–She can come too right?”
There was a long pause. “Of course. We’ve got a spare room that she can stay in.”
Percy’s inhale rattled slightly. His lungs burned. “Thank you. She–I–Mom, this time was really bad.”
“Whatever it is, we’ll get through together.” Her voice was soft and confident.
“Okay.” Percy pulled the receiver away from his face and wiped his arm across his face. He wasn’t sure if he believed her. He hadn’t been a kid, easily reassured by a parent’s comfort in a long time.
“I’ve got you on speaker, honey. Paul wants to say hi.”
“Percy, I’m so glad you’re coming home. I’ve got my foot on the floor so we’ll be there soon.” Paul’s voice was even and too loud.
Percy could still hear his mom’s muffled crying. He appreciated Paul’s effort to hide it from him just the same.
“Drive safe. Don’t– Don’t get in a wreck, okay?” Percy wasn’t sure why he felt so worried. Paul had taught him to drive. But wouldn’t that be the fates idea of a joke. Crawl out of Tartuaus, stop the end of the world and lose his parents in a mortal accident.
“Okay. I promise. We’ll be fine, Percy.”
Percy felt his lungs seize up, and pulled the phone away to hack up what felt like half his lung.
“Percy, you okay?”
“Yeah, Paul. I better go pack. I–” Percy bit back another cough. “Annabeth shouldn’t have to–I better go help her out.”
“Okay, honey, we’ll be there soon.”
“Yeah. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
Percy hung up and sat staring at the phone for a long time before he dragged himself up and out of the big house. The smoke made his lungs burn but he bit back each cough until he made it to his cabin. The sun had just started to rise. Campers would be up in an hour and heading to breakfast. Percy quickened his step. He wanted to be gone before then.
Annabeth was zipping shut a duffle bag on his bed when he entered.
“You okay?” she asked in way of greeting.
“Yeah, a bit overwhelmed to be honest.” Percy grabbed a pair of socks off his side table and shoved them in a side pocket of a backpack. He wasn’t sure if he’d left it here last December or if Annabeth had brought it from his house.
“Me too.” She smiled at him and threw a pair of underwear at him.
“Yeah, sorry. I know my boxers have that effect.” Percy smiled back at her. He tucked them in the same pocket as his socks and turned to empty his bedside table. He found he didn’t want to come back here for a long time.
“When we get to your place, I should call my dad. Let him know.”
Percy nodded. “Yeah, yeah he should–He’d want to know you were okay.”
Annabeth shrugged. “Just hearing your mom so happy to hear from you–I feel kinda guilty.”
“Annabeth, I’m sorry looking for me took you away from everything else.” Percy pulled a seashell from a window ledge and put it in his bag. “Hera sucks.”
“She does.” Annabeth agreed.
“Thank you for finding me.”
“Yeah well–I’m kinda attached to you.”
“Just kinda?” Percy laughed and then immediately doubled over coughing.
“That sounds worse than it has been.” Annabeth had come around the bed and placed a hand on his back.
“I think it’s the smoke.” Percy tried not to think about how the smoke likely contained the incinerated ashes of Leo. “How are your lungs?”
“They burn but the coughing isn’t like yours.” Her eyebrows were pinched and her bottom lip was between her teeth.
“You think a mortal doctor would–I don’t know. Is toxic air treatable? I mean I’ve already had enough ambrosia to kill a minor god.” Percy sank onto his bunk and put his head in his hands.
“It will probably just take time. We were there for ages.” She sank down next to him. “When things aren’t so crazy we can see if cabin seven has any ideas. Maybe we can get a nectar inhaler made or something.”
Percy nodded. “That’s not a horrible idea.”
“I never have horrible ideas.” Annabeth elbowed him lightly.
“Jury’s still out, wise girl.” Percy dropped his head on her shoulder.
“I should go pack and say goodbye to my siblings.” she said after a long moment.
“Yeah,” Percy stood up and resumed shoving his belongings into a bag.
“You already said goodbye to everyone?” She asked halfway to the door.
“Last night. Told them I was leaving early.” Percy didn’t want to drag it out. He wanted to be gone. Perhaps it was ungrateful for all the time they had spent searching for him, but at the moment he didn’t have it in himself to put them first.
“Right. I’ll meet you at the top of the hill.”
Less than five minutes later, Percy was out the door. Cabin three had been a home for a long time, but he didn’t turn back. Fog had gathered on the ground hiding much of the destruction of yesterday. He knew it was an effect of the smoke, the humidity would be brutal as the heat set in.
He didn’t stop to look around. He didn’t look for for the Roman tents in the strawberry fields. He didn’t look for signs of his friends or at any of the training grounds. He crossed the valley as the sun rose and felt like he was stepping away from a year's worth of pain. He’d be back, he knew he would. But right now he was ready to put it behind him.
He climbed the hill and passed Peleus. The barrier was behind him before he knew it.
Over the edge of the hill the road looked so ordinary. The pavement was cracked and resealed with black tar, leaving stark and jagged lines where black cut across grey asphalt. The grass crept up on the road, and weeds over took the uneven and crumbling edges. No one looking at it would suspect that the crest of the hill hid a battle field.
Percy kept his eyes on the road. It was easier to think of the simplicity of mortal things, unscared by Gaea and her war. There were no dead children, no burned cabins, no broken canoes or crushed stables. The trees were all standing, and the grass was still green. Mud had not overcome the road the way it had the stone paths and walking trails throughout the camp behind him.
Percy kept his back to the destruction that lay over the hill. He could wait here for forever, suspended in the inbetween. Waiting both for Annabeth to finish packing her rucksack and join him, and for his mother’s car to come down the road. Dropping his bag, he sank to the ground. The air smelt smoky still, it was the only sign of the carnage behind him. The grass was damp and stuck to his jeans the moment he sat.
“This spot taken?”
Percy felt his heart stutter. Dad. He shook his head, and kept his gaze forward. Were it not for the sudden warmth on his right, he would have thought he was seeing and hearing things. Worried that speaking would break the strange dream. It wasn’t real that Poseidon was here. He didn’t come. He wouldn’t. Didn’t care, didn’t have time. Percy kept his eyes on the road. If a parent were to magically appear and offer any warmth it would be his mother.
Poseidon sighed beside him and turned to look on the road too. “She won’t be here for some time yet.”
“I know.” Percy plucked a blade of grass and rubbed it with his fingers. The blade twirled. Percy tried not to think about how if it spun fast enough it would be sharp–a weapon for him to weld.
“I wanted to apologize.” Poseidon’s voice was soft, just above a whisper.
“For?” Percy chanced a glance at him. He did not vanish.
His father seemed tired. His face was lined and his expression pinched. He didn’t look the way he had in the titan war–not aged a thousand years all at once. He was himself still, sandals and all, but he looked sad.
“This year. Everything you’ve been through.” Poseidon was still looking at the road as if he too were waiting for Sally Jackson to appear and take him to a kinder world. The air had dried some and Percy wondered at the lack of humidity. It was as if the water was stretched thin.
“You didn’t–You didn’t kidnap me in the dead of night.” Percy weighted his words as he said each one. The fact his father hadn’t stopped Hera was left unspoken.
“I didn’t know.” Poseidon looked agonized at the admission. “I can’t explain it, but my Roman counterpart is so different–It’s like a madness. Like losing grasp of anything around you because fighting to know who or what you are is all you can do.”
“I don’t blame you.” Percy said with a frown. “But–but I guess I’m just let down. I just wanted you to hear me, to help, to tell me who I was or what was happening.”
“I heard you.” His father’s voice was ragged. “Twice.”
Percy looked up at him in surprise. His eyes locked on to the man before him. Hurt that he didn’t know he could feel, not in such intensity, bloomed in Percy’s chest.
“You ignored me?” Percy said angrier then he intended the words to come out.
“No.”
“No?” Percy stood up and rounded on him. The smoldering ruins of his second home curled into the sky behind Poseidon. “Then tell me where were you?”
“There is no excuse for my failing you.” Poseidon didn’t stand but sat looking up at Percy. “The first time I heard you was in the temple. You gave me your food.”
Percy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Scraps? You heard scraps of food but not any of my prayers to you? I was calling to you for weeks!”
Poseidon smiled but it was thin and watery. “Those scraps were all you had. So they were larger than any offering Neptune had been given in decades. It was so grand, so powerful, I was whole for just a moment. In that half second where the madness rescinded, I blessed you.”
Percy felt his heart slow. He didn’t want it to mean anything. The blessing had been nothing. His quest, his year, had been nothing but hardship after hardship after hades itself.
“Didn’t work though, did it?” Percy knew he sounded bitter and angry.
Poseidon tilted his head, “You didn’t remember her face?”
Percy froze. Ice crept into his veins and he felt colder than he ever had. “Her face?”
“The offering was so strong, but–I’m ashamed to say that as Neptune I didn’t immediately know you. This of course was only due to the madness. I would never harm you in any form I have and you are clearly my son no matter how I manifest. Had I more time I would have known–but the only clue I had to who you were in the moment was that you remembered the name Annabeth.”
Percy felt sick. He felt hot and cold and ill. He had started to remember her face after the temple. Before it had just been a name–a feeling–a deep guttural knowledge that he loved her and needed to find her. But he couldn’t have seen her. No matter how hard he tried to picture her, she was water slipping out of the cracks in his mind.
“If I’d been able–I wanted to do more.” Poseidon sounded angry. “But I only had a breath to do it. If I could have…”
“What?” Percy whispered. It shouldn’t matter, but knowing that his father had tried–really tired–even if it was just for a moment was more than he’d hoped to have.
“I’m not all powerful, Percy. None of us are. We pretend to be the ultimate power, to be more. I was so weak that nothing could have been done that would have mattered in that moment. But were I myself–nothing would have stopped me from coming for you.”
Percy sank back to the ground slightly closer to his father now than they had been when he had first joined Percy on the hill. All his anger had been leached out of him. The warmth radiating from Poseidon, made Percy shiver.
“I did start to remember her.”
“I wish I had been enough to bring you back everything.”
Percy shook his head. He knew what it was like to feel powerless. It meant more than he wanted to admit that even in his father’s weakness, he’d tried.
“Letting me see her face was–” Percy’s voice cracked. “Thank you.”
They were watching the road again. Robins and sparrows flew past, and called out to each other. In his father’s presence the smell of smoke dimmed and a breeze of sea air drifted through the trees. Seagulls flew overhead, casting shadows on the ripping grass that danced and seemed to sway. It wasn’t sitting by the sea, but it was enough. It took a while before Percy felt bold enough to ask.
“You said you heard me twice.”
Poseidon didn’t answer immediately, but his arm raised and pulled Percy towards him. He smelled of salt. Percy allowed his head to fall onto his father’s shoulder.
“I’ve never felt so scared.”
Had Percy not known they were alone, he would have never thought his father had spoken those words.
“I think it was the fear that did it.” Poseidon’s grip on Percy’s shoulder tightened. “I heard you fall.”
Percy closed his eyes. He had no memory of calling out to his father. His mind and heart had been too enwrapped with Annabeth. But it didn’t surprise him. He had been scared. He’d been terrified. He likely had called out to anything or one who would listen.
“I’m sorry.” Percy said quietly. “I didn’t even know I–I didn’t mean to”
Poseidon’s grip was almost painful. “Don’t. I’m the one who failed you. Please don’t ever–”
Percy kept his eyes closed, his father sounded like he was crying. He didn’t want to see. “You’ve been there right?”
“A very long time ago, yes.” He was definitely crying.
“It’s horrible,” Percy said, his cheek pressed against the seams of Poseidon's shirt shoulder.
“That’s an understatement,” His father said darkly.
“Have you–” Percy cut himself off, the question felt too hard. He didn’t want to think about it. But with his eyes closed all he could see was that endless black hole in place of a face. All he could taste was poisonous air and all he could feel was pain.
“No, I never met him.” Poseidon answered the question that Percy must have thought too loudly.
“He–He can’t come up here can he?”
His father was silent for too long. Percy felt numb. If he could then he would come. The Fates would never let Percy go.
“Percy, I don’t know. I’ll look into it though. I wish I had the answers for you.”
“I can’t fight him. I don’t think–Dad, if he were to come–”
“Breathe.” Poseidon had pulled him into a full hug now. It was awkward, twisted, knees bumping against each other as they sat on the crest of the hill. They were a tangle of limbs. Percy clung to his father, but he knew that some things were beyond even a god. All allusions of safety had been shattered.
“I do not think he will come.” Poseidon said into Percy’s hair. “He is not of this realm. It doesn’t call to him as it does monsters he spawns. Monsters are all partly from this world above, and so they seek it. They are drawn to the light, but he is dark. He is lack of good, and so good repels him. Darkness can not survive in the light.”
“But he could.” Percy felt childish clutching a man he had only met a handful of times, asking for the reassurance of a parent. They were blood, they were sea and power, but they had never had more.
“I don’t know.” Poseidon sighed.
They sat that way for a while. Percy’s sense of time had not fully come back to him, since leaving the pit. It was like a circadian rhythm being off kilter but deeper. Annabeth had told him she felt it too–like days and hours, seconds and minutes had lost meaning.
“I’m sorry you heard my fear when you couldn’t do anything about it.” Percy said finally pulling away. He thought about Annabeth calling for him in the pit afraid that Percy had left her. The sounds of her hurt, fear and sorrow would haunt him always.
“Who says I didn’t do anything?” Poseidon frowned at Percy as he pulled away.
“I–” Percy was truly stumped. “You said you were only able to bless me in New Rome.”
Percy had imagined it as he fell, it had after all been a very long way down. He’d envisioned his father the power of the sea reaching down to pull him and Annabeth up. He’d pictured his water chariot flying down to their rescue.
“I didn’t quite get the effect I wanted.” Poseidon stood and stretched. “Your fear was–I’ve never been so scared in my life hearing it–feeling it as you went over the edge. You were so resigned to death, and so desperate for her to live.”
Percy watched as his father began to pace. The air was becoming thick again.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Percy said finally as due drops began to form on the grass and even his own skin.
“It was–” Poseidon spun to look at him. His eyes studied Percy intently. “It didn’t work–not completely. I heard your fear and it was so strong the madness didn’t matter. But…I was weakened. Greatly weakened.”
“It’s okay.” Percy said feeling tired. “It wasn’t your fault. I made my choice to fall with her. Knowing you heard, cared is enough, Dad.”
“I tried to make you a god.”
Percy froze. He hadn’t heard correctly. He’d misunderstood. He was looking at a paper and the words were jumping from the bottom of the page making the sentence he was trying to focus on make no sense.
“It didn’t work of course.” Poseidon was looking heart wrenchedly at him. “Imortality is–difficult to create in a mortal at the best of times.”
“You–you tried to make me a god?” Percy felt dizzy.
“I didn’t know how else to save you. As a god you would–you could maybe get out. But even fully united in my fear for you, I didn’t have the power to do it.”
His father looked at him with such pain, Percy wanted to hide from it.
“Thank you for trying to help.” Percy said, tilting his head slightly. He’d have to repuzzle out his feelings on his father, but didn’t feel he could now. This was too much. “I’m glad I’m not a god.”
Poseidon laughed. “Yes, I don’t think even your wishes could have made me turn you back had it worked. Losing you–it’s too great a fear.”
Percy frowned at his father. “You’re not–you won’t now right?”
His father shook his head. “No, Zeus would never allow it to stand. He might have overlooked it in the moment and he couldn’t have forced me to take it back, but now– No. He will not stand for such a gift.”
“Well then, I guess it’s good you weren’t able to do anything.” Percy joked, feeling no humor in it.
“It didn’t completely not work.” Poseidon was no longer pacing. His back was to Percy, the set of his shoulders tensed.
“You said I wasn’t a god.” Percy’s ears were ringing and the words sounded wrong. Too high in pitch to be calm.
“You’re not. I didn’t have enough power to do that, but you are stronger. You are more divine than moral. Your ability will have expanded, your power grown.” Poseidon turned to face him, his gaze intense with some emotion Percy couldn’t identify.
Percy felt hollowed out. “I could–I could control the water down there.”
Poseidon considered him silently.
“And–other things too.” Percy felt his hands shaking. “Was that–was that because of you?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m a monster now?” The question surprised Percy even as he asked it. It was a fear that he had harbored deep in his chest, in a place so private not even Annabeth knew the fear.
“That’s not how monsters work, Percy.” His dad was crouched in front of him, his eyes no longer pained or angry. They just looked sad. “You’re still you. Still a demigod. You just are more powerful.”
“Zeus is going to kill me.” Percy said simply.
Poseidon blanched.
“I was already too powerful for him.” Percy wasn’t sure how he felt. He didn’t feel much of anything. Shock and anger had left him, fear was gone too. At twelve he’d been told he was too powerful to allow. If his father had made him more so than his fate was sealed.
“He won’t.” Poseidon’s voice was firm and steady.
Percy glared. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ve had enough of those.”
“He won’t.” He repeated firmer. “Not now. He wouldn’t dare.”
Percy laughed. It was hard and cold.
“Percy, I made him swear to leave you alone. He will not harm you.” Poseidon’s exhaustion was evident.
Percy paused. That was a rather large promise for the king of Olympus to make. “How on earth did you get him to do that?”
Poseidon smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter. It was worth it.”
The weight of whatever his father had given or sacrificed for the promise hung between them as thick as the humidity.
Percy took a deep breath before he dared confess his fear to his father. “Promises aren’t always kept by the gods.”
“If he broke this one, a war of which he has never seen the likes of would break out. He will keep his word.”
It was said with such surety that Percy wondered what retribution his father had vowed. He didn’t dare ask.
“Athena’s daughter is watching,” Poseidon said with a sigh. “I hate to leave you.”
Percy twisted around to look for her. She was standing far enough to be out of earshot, but close enough to watch. Her bone sword was gripped lightly, the only sign of her worry. Percy shook his head slightly to her, and her grip loosened and fell.
“She is dedicated to you.” Poseidon chuckled.
“We are.” Percy said, turning back to his father. “Will I see you again?”
His father stood, and Percy followed. Poseidon’s sadness throughout their talk suddenly burrowed a fear in Percy’s chest. This had felt like a goodbye.
His father though not the most present force in his life, had in fits and starts been a warmth in his life as a demigod. He wondered at Zeus’ promise and what Poseidon had given up in turn. Had they both sworn to leave him, to let the Fates take him as they saw fit? Who would defend him when Ares sought him out? Who would quail Athena’s displeasure at his relationship with Annabeth? Panic set in.
“Percy, you must remember to breathe.” Poseidon was holding his shoulders again.
“You didn’t answer my question.” His lungs didn’t seem to work.
“I didn’t think you would want to see me.” Poseidon’s eyes were searching him. The green, deep and piercing as he looked. “Your exit here seemed so final.”
“So you promised not to ever see me again? Just because I wanted to go home?”
“Where on earth did you get that idea from?” Poseidon looked truly lost.
“Zeus, you said you made a deal with him, and all this time you’ve been saying you’re sorry like you are saying goodbye.” Percy’s words came spilling out in a rush.
Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. “Your mind works in mysterious ways, son. No. I did not make such a deal with Zeus. I did think you wouldn’t want to see me again, not after all of this.”
It was as if oxygen had been turned back on and the air was suddenly breathable again.
“I don’t see you enough.” Percy said simply. “I only see you when you want something or something bad has happened.”
“Dinner?”
“I–Okay.” Percy said, trying not to get his hopes up. “When?”
“I believe your mother would not allow you out of her sight for the time being, so I shall come to you next week. Wednesday seems like a very insignificant day. Shall we chance it?”
“Wednesday. Do you–Do you know where I live? I mean… we were going to move last January. I’m not–I’m not sure where–where we live now.” Percy tried not to think about how the home he had struggled to remember would not be where he returned to today.
“Yes, I know it.” Poseidon smiled and gave Percy another squeeze on his shoulders. “Wednesday then.”
Poseidon was gone on the breeze leaving nothing but cleared smoke in his wake. Percy sat back down on the hill. His mind was both blank and spinning.
“You okay?” Annabeth asked as she dropped her bag next to his.
“Yeah.” Percy smiled at her as she took the spot his father had occupied next to him earlier. “He was just saying sorry for not helping us more this year.”
“That’s unusual.” Annabeth said, taking his hand in hers.
“Yeah, very ungodly.” Percy said with a laugh.
Annabeth didn’t speak.
Percy cursed. “I’m sorry that was stupid of me to say.”
Athena had not spoken to Annabeth yet. Her yankees cap had also remained stubbornly visible.
“Don’t be. I’m glad he cares. I’m happy for you.” Annabeth traced his knuckles with her thumb. “Really, I am.”
“I know. I just wish I could make your mom–”
“I don’t really know if I want to see her.” Annabeth cut him off. “Sometimes, I’m so mad at her for–for make me go through that. For us falling, that I don’t know what I would do if she appeared.”
Percy frowned. “She’s still your mom. Even if you’re mad, it sucks that she’s not–”
Annabeth sighed and threw herself back so that she was laying looking up at the sky. Percy smiled down at her.
“Sorry, I’ll drop it.” He said turning back to the road.
“Don’t apologize. I’m just tired, sore and feeling like we’ve walked through the pits of Hades.”
“Well you don’t say. I so happen to be familiar with the pits of Hades.” Percy joked, his eyes flickering back to the road.
“Yeah, and you look just as tired and sore.” Annabeth laughed.
“Nothing a few nights sleep won’t cure.” Percy said lightly. He knew that was a vast over simplification, but he was rather reluctant to contemplate the unpleasant reality of it all.
“Your mom’s going to freak out when she finds me in your room.” Annabeth chuckled.
Percy hummed in acknowledgement. He wasn’t really sure how to broach that with his mother. Perhaps being home–even if it wasn’t the one he knew– would allow him to really rest. Percy had been able to sleep in fits and starts, when exhaustion had finally overcome him. It was never long, but it was a true black out when it did.
Annabeth on the other hand had been terrorized by nightmares of monsters, Percy leaving, Bob face as the elevator doors closed and poison. It was rare that she didn’t come and find him in the night–just to check, just to be sure.
“I don’t want her to know.” Percy said after a moment.
“Know?” Annabeth rolled on her side to face him. “About what? Tarturus?”
Percy nodded.
“I don’t think that’s something we can hide.” She spoke softly and carefully.
“She was crying.” Percy said simply.
“She was happy.”
Percy shook his head. “It was more than that.”
“Okay, we don’t tell her. But at some point she is going to know. Seeing you is the only thing that keeps me from–”
“So we say you have nightmares. I’m sure I’ll get them once the exhaustion lessens.” He was amazed he’d avoided them this long. But he thought maybe his mind was just a bit too pressed to allow anything else.
“She’s not blind or dumb.”
“No, she’s not. She’ll know we’re leaving something out. But–I can’t ask her to carry that for me.” Percy sighed and leaned back too so that he was lying next to Annabeth. He could feel her breath on the side of his face.
They were silent for a long time. The sun had fully come up and clouds slowly drifted over them.
“Maybe it’s easier.” Annabeth whispered into his ear. “I wouldn’t want her to hate me.”
Percy sat up so fast he felt slightly light headed. “Don’t. That wasn’t your fault. I made my choice and I stand by it.”
Annabeth nodded but wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m serious. Annabeth, what happened was not on you. It was hell. It was impossible. You were hurt and dead on your feet. I was tired and not on my game. We fell together so if it’s your fault it’s mine too.” Percy turned so that he was fully facing her.
His hands fluttered over her body as if looking for a wound he could compress. It would be easier if it was a physical wound. He would know the steps. Identify the wound, stop the blood with pressure, clean, stitch and ambrosia. This was not so straightforward.
“Tell me you hear me?” Percy’s eyes flickered across her face, taking in every inch of her frown, the freckles on her nose and the storminess in her eyes.
“I heard you.”
Percy felt sick. She didn’t believe it, not really. He decided then and there to work at it until she did. “Come here.”
Percy and Annabeth sat on the hill, Annabeth leaning against his chest watching the horizon until a car rounded the curve at the end of the road.
Percy’s breath shuttered.
Annabeth pulled away and stood. She reached down and took Percy’s right hand in her two and pulled. “Come on, Seaweed Brain.”
It would come back to him in flashes. His mother jumping out the passenger door before the car was fully in park. Her running up the hill. Her hair suddenly blocking his vision. Her arms tucked around his middle and hands clinging to his shirt just between his shoulder blades.
Percy was taller now. The top of her head barely brushed his chin. He still fell into her, his body folding down so that his forehead rested on her shoulder.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, Percy.”
They rocked back and forth clinging to each other. Percy could hear Annabeth and Paul speaking together softly. Percy pulled back slightly from her but didn’t let her go. It didn’t feel real. Sometimes he was worried he would wake up back in Tartarus and everything after had been fake. Or worse still that he would wake up in the wolf house and not remember anything he’d dreamt. That it would all wash away when he woke and he wouldn’t know who or what he was–that his memory of his mother, Paul, camp and everyone in it would go away. He feared being left with just Annabeth’s name and no idea how to find her.
“I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“No.” She shook her head, her eyes shining. “None of that. Let’s get you home. You look half starved.”
Percy smiled. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“Shower too, by the smell of you.” She laughed.
“yeah–I guess I forgot about that.” Percy smiled at her. “I only slept about four hours, so I’m kinda functioning on 3 percent battery.”
“You can sleep in the car and then shower at home.” She pulled away and turned towards Annabeth.
Their hug wasn’t as long or emotional, but Percy could see it meant a lot to Annabeth. He couldn’t hear what his mother whispered to her, but he was sure it was kind.
“Percy, I’m so glad you’re home.” Paul hugged Percy less tightly than his mother, but tears were in his eyes.
“Me too. Thank you for coming to get us.” Percy said, breaking away. They both grabbed his and Annabeth’s bags and loaded them in the trunk.
Soon they were in the back seat, the radio turned down low. His mother spoke of dinner options and promised him that his new room was set up just how he’d left his old one. She spoke and spoke of the year he missed–Paul’s current students, her new novel ideas and drafts. Percy listened, his hand in Annabeth’s and his head leaning against the window. He watched the country roll past, the ocean coming in and out of view as the trees blurred by.
Slowly his eyes drifted closed and all he felt was Annabeth’s thumb gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. He had everything he needed, his mom and Paul, the promise of his dad’s visit and most of all Annabeth. She was here. He was really going home. He would face whatever lay ahead together with Annabeth at his side.