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“I hate it here.”
“Percy…”
Percy could hear the expression on his mother’s face, even if he couldn’t see it. It was the desperate, sad look she always got when he couldn’t do what she needed him to do.
“The people suck,” he said, willing his voice to stay in the sullen, angry, stubborn range and not the tearful, weak, baby one. “The bathroom smells weird. The food tastes bad. I already got in trouble.”
“I—” Sally paused, exhaling slowly. “I’ll come get you, baby, you know I will. If you can say that you’ve given it your best shot, really and truly, I’ll get in the car right now.”
Percy twisted the curly black cord of the administration office phone around his fingers. More than anything, he wanted to say yes, do that, please. Get in the car. Come here.
She would, too. He didn’t doubt it even for a moment.
She would pick him up and take him home. Gabe would be passed out on the couch under his warm and cozy blanket of empty beer bottles and chip bags, so Percy and his mom could cram themselves into Percy’s twin bed with the portable DVD player without trouble. They’d watch all their favorites until he fell asleep.
Safe.
Happy, even.
But Percy couldn’t bring himself to say the magic words, the ones that would bring his mother to his side.
“I haven’t,” he muttered at last. “I haven’t given it my best.”
“I know this is hard,” Sally said. “The first night is always the worst, but it will get better. You’re going to do well there, Percy, I can feel it.”
“Really?” Percy scoffed a little. “That’s funny because I feel the complete opposite.”
“I’m gonna hold up my end of our deal,” Sally said, as if that was ever in doubt. “All you gotta do is give it your best. That’s all anyone can ask of you, okay?”
Percy wanted to kick something. He wanted to scream and tell her that it wouldn’t matter; his best was never good enough. Instead, he curled the cord tighter around his fingers, cutting off the blood supply until the tips went red. Then purple. Then white.
“Percy?”
“I’m still here.” Percy relaxed the cord. He focused extremely hard on not letting his voice break.
The administrator he’d woken to make this call peered through the window, tapping her wrist. Like him, she was in her pajamas. She did not look happy.
“I have to go,” Percy all but whispered.
“Sleep well, my brave boy.” Sally kissed the phone, and his chest tightened. He could almost smell the familiar comfort of her shampoo.
He hung up before the first tear fell, swiping his cheeks quickly and wiping the evidence on his blue flannel pants before anyone could see.
///
Percy awoke to a strangled sort of yell.
His own, to be exact.
Another nightmare about that stupid golden sarcophagus on that stupid, giant cruise ship. Ever since the Sea of Monsters, it greeted Percy when he closed his eyes.
Demigod dreams weren’t usually good, but this one chilled Percy to his core in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. It didn’t sound scary out loud, either, which made it worse.
Yeah, I fight monsters. Yeah, I’m scared of a big box. I wake up sweating and panting when I dream of it. Yeah, don’t worry, I’m super cool.
He hoped his yell had been quiet enough not to wake the only other occupant of the apartment, but no such luck. Footsteps grew louder outside his door, followed by a gentle knock.
“Percy?”
He situated himself in bed, debating on whether or not to answer. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I’m okay.”
The door cracked open. Sally blinked sleepily, face full of concern. “Nightmare?”
“Oh, yeah, a bad one,” Percy said. “Dream Grover kept butchering Stairway to Heaven on his pan pipes. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
Sally pushed the door open further, coming to sit down on the side of his bed. She looked exhausted, but reached out—running a hand through Percy’s sweaty curls.
“Sounds horrible.” She didn’t seem totally convinced by his lie, which was fair. His mother was a smart lady.
Percy rested back against the headboard, soothed by her touch. His heartbeat slowed, no longer hammering at his ribcage. A burning began behind his eyes.
“It’s all okay,” Sally murmured in a low voice. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Percy gripped her wrist. It took all his strength to push her away. If she kept stroking his hair like that, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from bursting into tears.
Sally brought her hand down to the side of his cheek instead. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
Percy shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Please stay. Please stay. Please stay.
Sally crossed back to the door, looking at him with so much love and worry. “You come get me if you need me, okay?”
“I really will be fine—”
“Perseus.”
“I’ll get you.” Percy managed a small smile. “If I need it.”
///
“Okay, one more.” Sally reached behind the small artificial tree and pulled out a package wrapped in blue striped paper.
“Mom,” Percy chuckled, taking it into his lap. He still wasn’t used to this.
Christmases in the past were sparse. Money was always tight, and what little they had for luxuries, Gabe controlled. A good Christmas back then looked like blue candy in his stocking, and a few gifts tucked away—given quietly when Gabe wasn’t looking. This was only their third holiday without the jerk.
“I couldn’t help myself.” She positively beamed, and Percy wondered for the millionth time how anyone could’ve laid a hand on this woman.
Himself, he could understand. He was sort of an asshole most of the time.
But Sally?
It would never, ever make sense.
Percy tore off the wrapping, revealing a blue bar of skate wax. It instantly made Percy think of Tyson, and he told his mom so.
“And he’s okay?” Sally asked.
Percy couldn’t blame her for wanting to check—after Annabeth had been taken, nothing seemed off the table.
“He’s still down in the forges,” Percy assured her, turning the bar of wax over reverently. “And doing really well from the sound of it. I talked to him a few days ago. He’s gonna come spend the summer here.”
Sally looked really happy to hear that.
The phone rang, which was weird for a holiday—especially when the only extended family they had was a bajillion feet above the Empire State Building—but judging from the way his mom instantly blushed and went to the kitchen, Percy figured it was her new, uh, friend. Paul.
Left alone in the living room, Percy stretched out on the rug. To go from everything that had happened at Westover Hall and D.C. and Mount Tam to just… sitting on the floor in front of a lit tree, surrounded by stocking candy and ribbon was whiplash.
Christmas music played quietly from a speaker, and the whole house smelled like the Orange, Clove and Cinnamon candle Sally had lit.
It was safe.
It was strange.
It was a little… uncomfortable?
Percy couldn’t stop thinking about Nico, somewhere out there by himself. Did he even know it was Christmas? Was he spending it alone for the very first time ever, aching for his sister and cursing the boy who had let her die?
Why did Percy get a cozy Christmas with his mother? The only thing he’d done recently was let other people die for him. Maybe Zoë’s fate had been sealed by the prophecy, but Bianca’s hadn’t. He could’ve just as easily climbed into that metal death machine.
And doomed your mom to be alone? Like you doomed Nico?
For a split second, he saw his mom eating blue candy and crying over a ratty old stocking with his name on it.
In the kitchen, Sally laughed. It was a nice sound. If Percy could just remember how to breathe like a normal person, everything would be fine.
C’mon, c’mon, get it under control.
Some hero of the Great Prophecy.
Merry Christmas, Mom. By the way, I won’t live past sixteen and may destroy the world. Do you have any New Year’s plans?
He sucked in air in tiny, shallow gasps. Whatever he was doing to calm himself down was clearly not working, so Percy got to his feet and put his hands on his head—like his gym teachers told kids having asthma attacks to do while everyone ran The Mile at eight in the morning.
In and out. In and out. In and out.
There was a sharp crack and a water glass on the coffee table exploded, dousing the candle which sputtered out.
“Percy?”
He scrubbed at his face, already leaning down to gather the broken pieces into a cupped hand. They clinked against each other in his palm.
Sally burst into the room, probably expecting some kind of monster. “What happened?”
“I, uh, dropped a glass.” Percy forced a sheepish smile. “I think all the sugar is making me clumsier.”
Sally looked relieved, but her eyes lingered on his face, like she was trying to piece together what he wasn’t telling her. She grabbed a roll of paper towels and a dustpan, shooing him away.
“You’ll cut yourself.” She began to systematically clean up the mess. “Here, baby, I got it.”
“Was that Mr. Blowfish?” Percy sat back on his heels.
She gave him a look. “You promised not to call him that anymore.”
“To his face,” Percy reminded. “I didn’t promise shit behind his back.”
Sally wasn’t angry—she never was. She just shook her head, snapping her fingers. “I can still return all those gifts. Watch your language, Mister.”
“Blame Thalia.”
She dropped a kiss onto the top of his head as she stood, ferrying the rest of the broken glass to the kitchen.
///
It had been Percy’s fault.
He’d gotten distracted with both earbuds in—a really bad idea for a major demigod in a major city.
If Percy had been paying better attention, he would’ve noticed the shadows growing longer. He would’ve been more suspicious of the very clear, human voice calling his name. He certainly wouldn’t have turned around like an idiot, one earbud pulled out, as a flying mass of teeth and hyena fur came flying at him.
Sally had one arm looped under his shoulder, supporting him to the kitchen table.
“Oh, holy—“
Paul, that was definitely Paul.
Percy was having trouble seeing much of anything, his vision blurring from the blood loss. His torso pulsed with hot pain.
“Move the papers, dear,” Sally said to Paul like she was telling him to casually open a window on a hot day. She leaned forward, cupping Percy’s face. “Baby, where’s your emergency stash?”
“We should call an ambulance, right?” Paul hurriedly moved the stacks of student essays he’d been grading to the counter, even going so far as to wipe the surface clean with a sponge.
“Percy, look at me,” Sally’s voice was steady and firm. “I need you to look at me.”
Percy groaned, bracing himself against the table. If it had been anyone else asking, he probably couldn’t have done it. But this was his mom, and she was asking for so little, so he blinked hard and focused on her face.
“That’s it,” Sally nodded. “Good, that’s good. Where’s your ambrosia?”
“In my room,” he managed. “I think. Might be in my jacket pocket. Or my desk.”
He heard his mom swear quietly, and he couldn’t help flashing what was probably a very bloody grimace. He liked knowing he got his foul mouth from her.
She raced out of the room, and Percy sagged against the wood surface.
“Sorry Paul,” he apologized, though he wasn’t quite sure why.
He pressed a hand to his ribcage and looked down. It was stained dark red. Oh, yeah, that’s why he was apologizing.
“Don’t sweat it.” Paul had seemingly dropped the ambulance idea, grabbing the scissors and starting to cut Percy’s shirt away. “Demigod stuff. I understand. Sort of.”
His voice sounded shaky. Probably on account of all the aforementioned blood.
“Perseus Jackson,” Sally shouted from the hallway. “Your room is—“
“I know, I know; I’ll clean it when I’m not fucking dying.” Percy racked his brain, trying to remember where he’d stuffed that damn plastic bag of lifesaving god food. “Check the front pocket of my backpack.”
Moments later, Sally marched back into the kitchen, clutching the plastic bag. Annabeth had definitely cut the ambrosia into neat squares, but they were squished and crumbled now.
“Any debris?” Sally asked, helping Paul with the shirt.
“Might—might be a tooth or something, fucking hell, Paul, ow. Not sure. Don’t remember. Almost got eaten.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Paul’s hands were now also covered in red. “Won’t that ambrosia stuff fix anything?”
“Not anything,” Percy tried to explain, blinking hard as black spots began to dance in front of his eyes. The kitchen felt very far away suddenly, like he was viewing it through the wrong end of a telescope.
“It’ll seal up wounds.” His mom took over. “But if something is trapped underneath…”
Percy didn’t remember closing his eyes, but suddenly Sally was tapping his cheek again.
“Keep talking,” she ordered. “How’s Annabeth?”
If Percy weren’t actively bleeding out, he probably would’ve blushed. “Uh, good. Good. It’s officially our six week anniversary in… in a few days.”
Sally nodded, helping Paul now. “Are you guys planning anything?”
“She says six week anniversaries are stupid—gods.” Percy keened forward as a particularly rough pull of fabric came away. “Which means she definitely wants me to plan something.”
“Clever boy,” Sally nodded. “Almost done. Paul, will you—thank you, yes, that’s perfect.”
His chest was bare now, and he felt something prodding at the center of the pain. Everything flared, and right when he was about to announce that he’d be passing out now, thank you very much, something touched his lips.
“Eat.”
Percy did. Instantly, he felt better. The taste of warm chocolate chip cookies replaced that of iron. He swallowed gratefully, then opened his mouth automatically for more.
Sally exhaled in a sort of laugh. “Didn’t Annabeth say you needed to be careful not to eat too much of this stuff?”
“Annabeth says a lot of things.” Percy put on his best pleading I-Almost-Died-On-Our-Kitchen-Table face. “One more?”
Sally broke another piece off.
Percy savored every second of it.
Now that he was no longer in danger of collapsing, Sally looked stricken.
“Aren’t you gonna ask what happened?” Percy asked, feeling the heat in his wounds start to relax into more of a simmer.
“Maybe after you sleep and eat something other than magic medicine brownies,” Sally sighed. Her hands were still covered in his blood.
“That sounds like a euphemism for weed.” Percy was certain that the lack of blood in his body was making him loopy, but that didn’t stop him from snickering at his own quip.
“He’s joking,” Paul observed. “That’s—that’s a good sign, right?”
Sally leaned against him for half a second. “Not with Percy.”
“My sense of humor gets ten times funnier the closer I am to kicking the bucket,” Percy told him. “I should go shower.”
His mom scrunched her brows in concern. “Are you sure, baby? You can just rest for a bit. I don’t want you falling in there.”
“Even if I do,” Percy shrugged. “It’s not like I can drown.”
He pushed himself up and off the table, stumbling only slightly. Sally grabbed his shoulders, and he accepted her help all the way down the hall and into the bathroom before shooing her away.
Life hack: in the shower, any water that happened to maybe leak from the eyes just blended in with all the other droplets.
///
Two-hundred and forty-three days.
That was how much time had passed since Percy had seen his mother. The whole way back to the apartment, Percy gripped Annabeth’s hand like she might suddenly vanish from his side.
“You okay?” she asked quietly, her leg pressed against his as it bounced.
They both knew the answer to that, so he didn’t bother lying.
“Did you tell her we were coming?” Annabeth fixed him with those grey eyes.
Percy shook his head. “If Chiron needed us for something… if we had to go…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but from the way Annabeth nodded, she understood. He couldn’t do that to his mom—get her hopes up only to send them crashing down.
Better to just show up.
No promises, no empty words.
Percy liked to think he was holding it together amazingly well for someone about to be reunited with their mother after nearly nine months. Other than the pesky bouncing leg, he was weirdly calm.
For a wild moment, he wondered whether he would even be able to show any emotion at all. He’d been existing in a numb, flat line lately. Maybe that was just who he was now.
“You with me?” Annabeth squeezed his hand, and he squeezed it back.
“Always.”
When the door to Sally and Paul’s apartment opened, Percy quirked one side of his mouth up. His mother looked thinner than he’d ever seen her, even with Gabe. Her eyes had familiar dark bags, ones he saw every time he looked in a mirror.
Truthfully, Percy didn’t know what they said to each other first. He might’ve blacked out. He knew she was hugging him, and he definitely hugged back.
They were in the hallway and then they were in the kitchen, Annabeth never leaving his side. Paul clapped him on the shoulder, turning away so Percy wouldn’t see him wipe at his eyes.
Sally looked deep into his eyes, searching. “Where are you, baby?”
Gone.
“Right here, Mom. I promise.”
Percy couldn’t remember what they all had for dinner or how much of it he ate. He remembered that his mom brought out the good napkins, the ones they only used during holidays and birthdays. He remembered Annabeth insisting she help Paul with the dishes. He remembered noting absentmindedly that the oven clock was five minutes too fast.
“Percy?” Annabeth said, and he snapped to attention. They were standing in his room. “I’m gonna rinse off. Do… do you want to come?”
He knew why she was asking, and even though he desperately didn’t want to be alone, he shook his head.
“I’ll be okay,” he promised with a wry smile. “I don’t think the ‘leave door open, young man,’ rule has gone away just because a goddess kidnapped me for half a year.”
Standing alone in his room, Percy steeled his nerves. He could do this. He could remember how to be Percy—the boy in the photos pinned up by his bed, the one grinning and laughing.
Sally had waited so long. She deserved a whole kid back, not just fragments of one.
“Fuck you,” Percy growled, directed straight up at the ceiling, like the curse would reach Hera on Olympus. Maybe it was meant for all of them. “Fuck you so bad.”
It all came crashing down several nights later.
Really Great Percy became Not So Good Percy who became Really, Really Bad Percy.
Annabeth had a nightmare. She didn’t wake, but he knew what she was dreaming about. It was the same thing she’d been dreaming about since they’d left the pit.
Percy, please don’t ever…
Some things aren’t meant to be controlled.
When Percy stood too still, his body replayed the sensations of that moment: a cold, piercing snap right there in his gut where it tugged whenever he called upon the water.
The crack was still there. He was keeping it together with scotch tape.
Really Bad Percy left his bedroom in search of water and ended up on the floor of the kitchen, staring at nothing. He didn’t feel scared. He didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel at all.
“Percy?”
He didn’t turn around. “Mom.”
She took a few hesitant steps forward, then sat down beside him on the tile.
“I needed water,” Percy said flatly, like that would explain what he was doing.
“I see.” Sally stayed there.
“The oven clock is fast.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this.
“I’ll fix it in the morning.”
After either five minutes or forty-five, Sally stood. He thought she would go to bed, quietly disappointed at his lack of conversation, but instead, she stood on tiptoes and dug around in a cabinet.
She came right back, sitting down beside him with a plastic bag tied with a gold twist-tie. Inside were blueberry sour strings—their sour dust clinging to the sides of the crinkly plastic.
“By the fourth month,” Sally said, untwisting the tie. “Calls from camp slowed. Search updates stopped. The highs and lows were hard, but the nothing… the nothing was so much worse.”
She got the bag open, pulling out a sour string and handing it to Percy.
“When I couldn’t sleep,” Sally continued. She wasn’t looking at him. There was no pressure to listen. “I would sit on this floor, right where you are, and wait.”
The sour string was rough between Percy’s fingers. He studied it. In the dim light of the oven, it almost glowed.
Sally bit into one herself. “It’s okay. See?”
Following her lead, Percy brought the candy to his lips. It passed to his tongue, and instantly, his mouth began to water. Saliva pooled in the corners of his mouth.
Sour. Sour. Sweet.
Percy took another bite. And then another. He chased the feeling, the puckering bitter softening out after a few moments of sharpness.
“It’s kind of silly, isn’t it?” Sally smiled at him. “Something so simple kickstarting our nervous system again? I went through three bags before they eventually called and said you were alive.”
“Nico.” Percy coughed a little, taking another bite of the candy. “Nico found me. I didn’t recognize him.”
Sally nodded. “That must’ve been so lonely.”
Percy’s vision blurred. One sour string turned into several. He let the candy sit on his tongue, causing his eyes to tear up even more.
“I… I fucked up,” Percy whispered. “Really bad, Mom.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. She just handed him another sour string.
“I—” he couldn’t finish the sentence.
Another bite of sour string.
Exhale.
“Annabeth. I scared her.”
Another bite.
“It was horrible—I’m horrible.”
Finally, finally, a tear escaped containment, rolling down his cheek. It reached his mouth. He thought of the ocean. He thought of Akhlys. The scotch tape finally gave out. The crack re-opened.
“I’m sorry.”
Sally wrapped her arms around him, tucking him into her shoulder like it was the safest place in the world.
“Oh, Percy,” she whispered into his hair.
Percy’s chest felt like it would split in two. Ugly, awful sobs burned his throat like the pit.
And suddenly, he was five and snapped his favorite crayon on purpose after trying to write the alphabet—frustration boiling over when the row of lowercase a’s came out facing the wrong way again.
He was eight and in the principal’s office for throwing a snowball at one of the older kids who always stole his lunch; the guy had ducked at the last second and the snowball—mostly New York slush and ice—had smashed into another kid’s face.
He was eleven and kicked out of school again for being too difficult, too impulsive, too stupid.
“I’m sorry,” Percy sobbed into her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She made soothing noises, hands in his hair, lips to his scalp. She held him like he was the most precious thing in the world—not because he was part god or responsible for saving the world again or the subject of some other lousy fucking prophecy.
“This isn’t your fault,” Sally responded to every apology. “You’re not horrible. I love you.”
“You’re just—saying that—because you’re—my mom,” Percy hated how whiny he sounded, gasping between sobs.
“I am your mom.” Sally said it like she was proud. “And I know you, Percy. I know you so, so well.”
“You don’t even know what I did.”
“I don’t have to.”
That sent Percy further into hysterics. Really not a good look on him, he was sure.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Percy was crying so hard he didn’t know if any words were intelligible. “I’m tired. I’m tired. I can’t. I can’t.”
Sally tightened her hold on him, and he knew right then that no god, no titan, no giant would be able to pry her arms open. Just let them try.
“You gave it your best,” she assured him. “You can be done now. You gave them your very best. My brave, brave boy. My Perseus.”
And for the first time in a very, very long time, Percy could breathe again.