Chapter Text
Sometimes, when Percy Jackson felt overwhelmed by life's day-to-day problems and crushed by the weight of his existence in this unfair mortal world, he would visit his favorite art museum and reflect on his favorite sculpture, the Poker Player (a Sally Jackson original).
It really just made his day better to look up at such an ugly piece of clay and think: yeah. My mom did that. My mom got paid money for that. I love my mom.
Today was one of those days. Percy had been through an ordeal of monster fighting at the airport and almost starting a fire at the Macy's near 34th Street, so he decided to do some good ole' art appreciation before stopping by his mom's apartment. In theory, he was supposed to spend his spring break with her, but he also knew Camp Halfblood had a small army of grubby children who were demanding an in-person sword lesson - and quite frankly, he would rather face a thousand monsters than tell Meg McCaffrey no.
So here he was. Admiring art. Trying to focus only on the outcomes of this glorious sculpture rather than the memories tied to the contorted face and grimy hands.
He had once brought Thalia here shortly after the Titan War. Gabe was one of those things in his life that people close to him knew but also didn't quite know. Annabeth and Grover understood to an extent. They never brought up Gabe. Never asked. Sometimes, Annabeth would look at the blue food his mother would bring out, and something crossed her face, but she didn't push.
Percy wondered if she expected him to talk about it one day. To deconstruct what his life had been all those years that Gabe had resided beside him. To unpack the details of broken glass on the floor, the smell of cigarette smoke and anger whirled in the pit of his stomach.
He never could bring himself to voice any of it but with Thalia? It was a tad easier.
Thalia never spoke of her mother in the same way Percy never spoke about Gabe. There was an understanding there. A comfort. Percy felt a little safer to allow her some insight into his previous world.
"But she never mentioned Jason," Percy murmured to himself.
A few people around the sculpture glanced at him but said nothing. Percy knew it was a tad unfair of him to expect Thalia to unload all of her secrets onto him. Still, it felt… well, he supposed it didn't matter how it felt. It wasn't like Thalia spoke to him much these days, anyway.
Sighing, he turned, readying himself to hop on a train to Penn Station to begin his descent to Camp Half-Blood, when a gasp stuttered over the crowd. Something cracked. A horrible grinding sound echoed over the marble floors. Percy pulled out his pen, fully anticipating a monster, only to see a chunk of stone burst against the floor.
Someone screamed. Percy had no idea what mortals could be seeing. All he knew was where his mother's sculpture stood five seconds ago, a cloud of dust rose.
Alarms blared. People ran. Percy stepped back, trying to decide where the danger was coming from, but as the dust settled, no monster revealed itself. Instead, a coughing figure swore loudly as it fell onto its knees. Percy inched closer, peering down.
"...mother…of… God," the figure said, and Percy gagged when the smell of alcohol slammed itself into his face. He raised Riptide, but before he could swing, he recognized the face through the white cloud of vaporized stone.
Gabe Ugliano spat out some cement before passing out onto the white pedestal.
At this point… why not?
Everything else had happened to Percy at this point. Why not this?
The options on how to deal with Gabe were short. Percy refused to allow him to roam the streets of Manhattan, let alone leave him to potentially track down his mother, so naturally, Percy kidnapped him.
As to where he could store a mortal who had been legally missing for years felt… unclear. He had decided to do the most straightforward thing: chuck him into the nearest river and hop on in after him.
It was simple enough to keep a bubble around the man as Percy allowed them to float downstream, cursing to himself the entire way.
Despite the level-headedness he had so far, there was a part of him that felt…small. Almost as if he had been kicked back in time and was a child once more. He glanced over at Gabe's sleeping form and shivered. How was it that even after facing Kronos and Gaea, this man still bothered him more?
Percy never once admitted to himself that he had been afraid of Gabe. All he felt when he looked at the man was pure, unfiltered anger. Hatred. Percy had always talked back. Always pushed back. He never cowered away.
At least, that's what he liked to remember about the interactions.
As they floated down the East River, Percy was forced to reflect that maybe his memory warped some details. Gabe had been around since Percy was five. And Percy hadn't always been brave - even if he preferred to think of it that way. Sometimes, Percy wondered if he had ever been brave.
But even if - maybe, just maybe - the younger, untrained, untested Percy Jackson had been marginally frightened of his drunk, gambling stepfather… why didn't that feeling leave him now? Why did he feel so on edge? He could easily disarm this man. He had faced gods and titans and giants. Endless monsters. He had fought greater enemies unscathed.
Why did he feel so small right now?
The river eventually brought him to the harbor, where Percy washed them up to the beaches of Camp Halfblood. Mortals may not be allowed inside, but the edge would allow him a moment of reprieve as he could think through what to do next.
Surprisingly, Chiron was waiting for him.
"Lord Poseidon said you were on your way," he greeted, giving a tight smile. Percy frowned, noticing a ripple around the camp. "The mortal may enter," Chiron added.
Interesting. Swishing his hand, he brought Gabe from the waves onto the beach beside him. A few nymphs rushed over, pausing in pure horror when they saw Gabe, only to kneel down and check for injuries. Percy watched in bafflement as they all lifted him up.
"Oh," he began. "You don't need to-"
"Come." Chiron placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "The gods are waiting."
Ugh. Not them.
At first, Percy thought Chiron meant that they would be heading straight back up to Manhattan to visit Olympus, which was obnoxiously inconvenient. It took him several moments to realize he meant the gods were in Camp Half-Blood.
Even during wars, the gods had adamantly stayed on either Olympus or within their own domains. If mortals were allowed inside camp (and deities along with them), whatever was happening was probably world-ending. Hooray.
"The mortal you found is not the only statue returned to life," Chiron said as they walked. The camp was buzzing. Even without seeing an Olympian, Percy could tell they were here. Power seemed to rattle every leaf and piece of stone. It left him a little nauseous as they walked. "And their creator has disappeared."
"Medusa's gone?" Percy asked, jamming his hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure what to make of that. Monsters only seemed to disappear when entering Tartarus - and the damage they left behind was permanent.
"There is no sign of her," Chiron confirmed. "The gods are… distressed. Mr. D has allowed all resurrected statues a place of temporary safety here until it is decided what to do next."
Well, that was something. Percy wasn't thrilled that Gabe would be allowed to wander Camp Half-Blood, but he would figure out what to do about that later.
"Why here?" he asked, eying the Big House warily. Dark clouds circled overhead. Zeus, probably. "Why not Olympus?"
Chiron considered this as he ran a hand over his face.
"Complications have arisen. Apollo insisted."
Apollo? Percy was somehow even more confused, but they were outside the front door before he could ask anything more. Inside, he could see that the long table they used for counselor meetings was occupied by twelve familiar Olympians. Behind them were their respective camp counselors.
Among the group, Poseidon sat beside Zeus, looking the far most uncomfortable. His eyes didn't rise as Percy entered, instead focused on some scrolls in front of them. Athena paced, brows furrowed as she muttered to herself.
"Could you at least try to speak inside your own mind?" his father asked when Athena continued muttering. "Or must all your wisdom be shared for the world to hear?"
Athena's eyes flashed as she jerked toward Poseidon, her form glittering with rage. "Do you think your mind is apt enough to come up with a solution, uncle?"
Percy snorted. All eyes flew to him. Surely, they had realized he was there, but perhaps his silence hadn't warranted any attention until now.
"Sorry," he greeted, holding up both hands. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
Hades scowled, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his chair. From behind him, Nico rolled his eyes. Hades hit his arm. Nico only rolled his eyes again. "And what do you find so amusing, Jackson?" the god asked.
Percy definitely couldn't say that Athena's comment was funny because the gods never seemed to solve any problem they created, but alas. He wasn't interested in dying quite yet. He needed until at least noon before that became an appealing option.
"I'm merely reveling in parent-child similarities, my lord," he said, throwing Annabeth a sly smile.
"I don't mutter when I think," she replied dryly. Percy raised an eyebrow. "You must not be listening to me when I talk to you."
"If that was true, I would be blissfully ignorant of Baroque architecture," Percy said wistfully, moving to stand behind his father.
Annabeth snorted. "Tell me one thing about Baroque architecture."
"It's ugly."
Annabeth paused. "Do not disrespect the integrity of the artists who-"
"You think it's ugly too," Percy cut in. Annabeth made a face, but he could tell she was amused by the bluntness. "I've seen your designs. As if you would make anything that overtly ostentatious."
Piper let out a low whistle, nudging Annabeth as she pressed the back of her hand against her forehead. "Overtly ostentatious," she whispered. "How are you not swooning?"
Annabeth pushed her away. "Shut up, Piper."
"Not that I don't adore you two flirting as if you were in a cute little café," Aphrodite interjected, leaning forward with a slight purr. "But we do have a problem at hand. Besides, your poor parents look appalled."
Percy glanced down at his father, who did look suitably annoyed. Percy didn't know why. Usually, his father put on his best temperaments for him. Besides, if they were comparing girlfriends… well, Annabeth didn't turn people into stone. So, how much could Poseidon talk?
"I believe Athena should speak first," Artemis said. Percy was a little surprised to find her here. He was even more surprised to see Thalia was situated behind her instead of Zeus. He supposed, in retrospect, that Thalia's choice was to be expected, but Percy was impressed that Zeus allowed it. "Medusa's curse was at her hand, after all."
"You think to blame me for this?" Athena asked, turning to scowl at her sister. "I can't say what's happened. All I know is that my power felt… a disturbance," she said, voice hardening. "I can't speak as to what it was."
"You can't speak to it," Poseidon said, leaning back in his chair. "A lovely way to say you don't know."
The room bristled, and Athena turned her eyes to Poseidon, her expression somehow growing colder. "I know how upsetting this must be to you, uncle. Another one of your little… pets gone."
"Mother," Annabeth murmured.
Poseidon's hands clenched on the table, though his smile never wavered. Percy, on the other hand, looked away.
Annabeth's version of Medusa when they were twelve was the nice one. A terrible thing to learn about an already terrible story. The other version of the tale Percy had learned as he got older was… more difficult to swallow.
Warily, he looked down at his father. Their relationship had been decent at one point, but since the Giant War it had faltered, and both of them knew it.
"Let us focus on the most pressing issue," Chiron said gently. "Medusa's sculptures have been resurrected. As happy as this occasion is, it brings complications to be addressed."
Mr. D shrugged as he took a sip of his Coke. "Why not let them return home?" he asked. Percy's heart sank. "It seems simple enough-"
"And what of those who were petrified in times of ancient Greece?" Hera interjected. "It seems unfair to ask these victims to be simply thrown out into the world unaided."
A surprising moment of kindness from Hera. Percy almost found himself impressed. Almost.
"Have Hades reap their souls," Zeus dismissed. "They were dead before. Let them be dead now."
"Not quite," Hades said dryly. "Firstly, brother, I do not reap souls. You gave me this job. You might do well to remember what it is."
Nico smiled a little as he looked away, trying to hide the hint of fondness Percy had only seen grow for his father over the years. A bit of jealousy wormed in his chest, but he ignored it. Given everything, Nico deserved whatever happiness was offered to him.
"As for the souls, none of them were technically dead for Thanatos to retrieve. We'd have to outright kill them-"
"What?" Percy interrupted. The room turned to him. A few immortals gave him cold looks, but when Poseidon cleared his throat, they looked away. "What do you mean they weren't actually dead? They were turned to stone."
"And their souls remained in that stone," Hades said simply. "They didn't come to me or any other realm of death, meaning they technically never died."
Percy wasn't sure what his expression was, but the horror must have shone through because Thalia spoke up next.
"Perhaps the demigods can step away for a moment to discuss while you all debate the finer points of the issue," she said, glancing at Artemis.
It was a rope of kindness - something to pull Percy away from the spiral he was stumbling toward - but all he felt was annoyance when he looked at her. He could only think of standing beside her at Gabe's statue, and the betrayal he had been trying to ignore crept up again.
Ares coughed, looking amused by the interjection. Percy's annoyance grew.
"Very well," Zeus said, despite the fact nobody had asked him. "We will reconvene momentarily."
He had barely finished the words when Percy turned to flee from the room. He heard Thalia rush after him but slammed the door behind him before she could follow. The door shook with a bang. It was probably an offense to every immortal being inside, but he didn't care.
Everything felt like it was vibrating.
Trying to keep himself in check, he pulled out his phone and stared. It had only been a year since he received his very own cell phone (complete with a bronze casing to prevent monsters from easily tracking it) but he found he rarely used it. He preferred to Iris Message at this point, and it always felt risky despite the safety measures.
Now, he tried to dial his mother's number but stopped halfway through. He could press her contact and just call, but the idea of her picking up made him a little dizzy.
What was he supposed to say? How was he going to explain this? Could he say that Gabe was back? That Percy wasn't sure what they were going to do with him yet? What did that mean for her? For Paul? For Estelle?
He would rather die than let Smelly Gabe near them.
His finger hovered over the next button before he turned the phone off. He couldn't do it. Not yet. Not until he had an answer of what would happen next.
"Chiron and Annabeth are handling that," Thalia's voice said behind him. Damnit.
"Handling what?"
"Your temper tantrum," she answered, walking up beside him. "I volunteered to tell the gods they shouldn't kick your ass so Annabeth could come after you, but I'm still not seen as very diplomatic."
Percy snorted. Neither was Annabeth, truthfully, but he loved that she could fool them.
He looked out across the volleyball pit. Nobody was playing, but a few campers lounged about - pretending they held no interest in the gods that loomed nearby.
"Temper tantrum is not the right word," Thalia said suddenly, grabbing his arm. "I'm sorry." He shrugged her off. "Tell me how to help."
"I'm fine."
"Totally, but we both know that's a lie, so save me the drama." Thalia stood in front of him, forcing him to look at her.
Despite the fact Thalia was supposedly forever frozen as a fifteen-year-old, she could look older when she wanted to, which was just annoying. She only seemed to use this power when speaking down to Percy. As if she needed him to remember who was actually older. Dumb.
"You used to tell me about this stuff, Percy."
The audacity of that statement was almost too much.
"You used to care about this stuff," Percy muttered before he could catch himself.
It was a cruel thing to say. He wasn't entirely sure what made it slip away from him, but there was such a bitterness in his chest these days that he couldn't seem to push past. It ate at him until things like this snapped out without any warning.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Thalia asked. Her voice was irritated, but he could still catch a hint of hurt underneath. "I've been mourning my dead brother, Percy."
Ouch.
"I know," he said. A long pause followed, but for whatever reason, her words hadn't shaken the anger from him. "I know," he repeated, hoping that would do the trick.
Thalia pushed his shoulder so that a shock of electricity jolted through him. That didn't help with the anger. "Then what the hell?"
Percy bit his tongue. He wouldn't have this conversation with her when he felt like this. Couldn't. It wasn't fair. Jason's death still felt fresh, and he couldn't start a shouting match with her in the middle of the volleyball pit.
Gods, why was he still so angry, though?
Thalia seemed just as irritated as she shoved Percy harder. "Say something!"
"What do you want me to say?" he asked stiffly. In the back of his head, he registered a pair of eyes watching them, but his annoyance was too strong to connect the dots on what that could mean.
"Gods, Percy," Thalia said, frustration rising. "Is there ever a time when you're not upset with me over something? It's not my fault-"
"What isn't your fault?" Percy said, and the water from the lake shuddered. "Tell me, Thalia. I would love to hear more about how things are not your fault. Tell me how you're perfect and can do no wrong-"
"What are you even blaming me for this time?"
"What have I ever blamed you for?"
"You know what I'm talking about!" Thalia hissed, lightning crackling. The air sharpened with the smell of ozone and despite the fact Percy knew something was off, his powers reacted instantly. "You've never said it, but I'm not an idiot."
"Of course," Percy said despondently. "Nothing is your fault, and you're not an idiot."
And then Thalia punched him.
Again. Why not? Percy felt like he had been subconsciously pushing for it. As soon as she landed the first hit, he launched himself at her. A loud crack of thunder burst through the sky, sending everyone near them scattering.
It felt like the summer they spent here all over again - constantly arguing. Constantly fighting. Constantly trying to one-up each other. Only this time, something felt deeper, and the anger he had tried so hard to ignore was clawing at his throat.
"If you're so innocent, why don't you say it?" he spat, gathering the nearby water to shove her backward. Thalia zapped the water with lightning, but all it did was evaporate, throwing them into a foggy battleground. "What could I possibly be upset about after all this time?"
Thalia launched another strike of lightning at him. Percy clenched his fist so the vapor formed a shield.
"I didn't want to leave you with the stupid prophecy, okay?" Thalia barely got the words out when Percy brought out Riptide.
They traded slashes and parries as Thalia yanked out her spear, ducking and weaving. They used to spar like this all the time. Whenever Thalia had enough of the Hunts' antics, and decided to check in on him. Percy knew what it was, though. He had always known what it was. Guilt. For leaving him to deal with the politics and prophecy while she lived her new immortal life.
Would she have bothered caring about Percy otherwise?
"Seriously?" Percy asked, slashing at her arm. Thalia hissed as the blade skimmed her, the electricity spiking through the metal. "You think I'm mad about the prophecy after you ditched me in Tartarus?"
Thalia stumbled. Percy didn't blame her. It was the first time the words had left his mouth, but now that they were there, he couldn't stop. He hit again - harder - and this time, Thalia fell.
"I sent you messages for weeks after the Giant War ended. You visited Annabeth. I saw how often you called her. What the hell did I do to piss you off so badly?" he asked, hitting again. And again. And again.
Thalia was trying to parry, but she looked shaken as she tried to get back up.
"Let's face the facts," Percy said and kicked some sand so she had to shield her eyes. He used the distraction to knock her back to the ground. "You felt bad you left me after the last prophecy. You used me as a Jason shoo-in. Then you got your real brother back and decided I could fuck off. Now Jason's gone, and you suddenly want me to talk about my feelings again?"
He threw down his sword. At this point, he wanted to fight with his bare hands. He wanted to-
"Percy!"
Thalia's voice was sharp enough to rattle him momentarily. He blinked, realizing with a dawning sense of horror they were both covered in blood and Thalia was pointing off to the side. He turned to find a figure looming on the porch of the Big House.
"Now, now," Ares called down. "Don't try to talk it out now! We were having fun!"
…that wasn't good.
Percy glanced down, realizing suddenly his anger had been blown up by an outside force. Ares grinned down at him.
"Shit," he muttered and glanced at where Thalia was wincing. She must have realized before he did. That was why she stopped fighting back. "Are you okay?" he asked her, hoping that most of that blood wasn't hers.
"I burned you," she muttered and grabbed Percy's hair to get a better look at the blistering red on the side of his neck. "Chiron is going to be pissed."
"I'm surprised he isn't here screaming at us."
Thalia's lips quirked upwards. "I bet he's just glad it isn't our dads for once," she said, but her voice was strained.
Percy snorted, pushing her hand away. A second later, he sighed. "Thalia-"
"Ares' fault," she cut in sharply. "Not ours. We can figure out the rest later."
"But-"
"Percy, I know you don't want to deal with Gabe, but as far as I know, I'm the only one you've talked to about him," Thalia said, sounding tired.
Percy didn't answer. His mind wandered again to standing in front of Gabe's statue. Thalia had stopped by to visit and found him at the museum, just... staring. It was shortly after they had gone on that quest with Nico - the one where Percy had seen the ghost of Thalia's mother.
Annabeth knew about Gabe. Grover felt Gabe's impact on him. Still, he had never really mentioned much about growing up with him. Couldn't. Thalia was really the only person who felt…similar.
Then again, they were similar in most ways, weren't they?
"Are you ready to go back?" Thalia asked. Percy looked at his singed shirt and Thalia's drenched hair. "...after we change?" she offered.
"Sure," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But you're not borrowing a shirt from me."
"Why would I want one of your ugly ass shirts?"
"So you don't have to wear your ugly ass shirts?"
"I'm just going to take one of Annabeth's shirts," Thalia muttered, and Percy hoped to whatever god still liked him that Annabeth gave her the pink bedazzled one that she pretended she didn't own.