Chapter Text
Percy isn’t sure how long he spends at the water’s edge, watching the tide flow in and out. His tears have long since dried. He didn’t cry much after his father left. Some sort of wall resided in his chest, locking his feelings up.
The constellations are just starting to fade into the distant light of the rising sun when someone approaches him. They purposefully make a lot of noise, so not some sneak attack. Annabeth, probably.
His surprise, then, when the newcomer settles on the sand next to him and says, “Hey.”
Percy turns to look at his best friend.
Grover hasn’t changed much in the last year. His hair is a smidge longer, his horns too, but otherwise he’s the same satyr Percy knows and loves. The sight of him sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest.
Percy sniffs. “Hey, G-man.”
Then he breaks down.
Grover startles but quickly recovers and wraps his arms around Percy. He smells like grass and wildflowers and familiarity. His arms are thicker, stronger, and he holds Percy up as he shakes. It all comes out at once; the loss from the war, having to bottle everything up, and now the rejection from his father. He’s had to be strong for so long, be the one who didn’t break in front of the Seven. But Grover isn’t one of the Seven, he’s just Percy’s friend. Percy’s best friend, the one who saw him through his very first quest.
He doesn’t remember the last time he cried this much. It won’t stop. It just hits, over and over, pounding like a wave against that wall in his chest. It’s crumbling now, letting all his emotions out.
And Grover—blessed, wonderful Grover—holds him as he rides the wave. He whispers comforting words, rubs a hand over his back, and stays there.
Eventually, Percy’s crying subsides. He pulls away, grimacing when he sees the wet spot on Grover’s shirt. With a wave of his hand, it dries.
Grover offers him a tentative smile. “Hey,” he says again.
Percy sniffles and wipes his nose. “It’s good to see you. When did you get here?”
“Just this morning. I’m so sorry I wasn’t—”
“Shut up,” Percy interrupts. “Your duties aren’t to camp anymore, they’re to the wild. Don’t apologize for not being here.” He puts a hand on Grover’s shoulder. “If I had to guess, you had some other catastrophe to deal with?”
Grover blows out a breath. “The national parks. The last remnants of the wild, y’know? Gaea had parts of herself at some of them. It was a disaster.”
Percy gently pats his shoulder. “See? You had to be there.”
Grover gives a sheepish smile. Lord of the Wild, yet he’s still insecure about doing enough. That’s Grover.
They lapse into a comfortable silence. Percy takes the time to do breathing exercises, riding out the last of his breakdown. It… hurts. His father’s words. More than he expected it to. There’s no righteousness from Odysseus, no I told you so. Just a weary sort of sadness. Neither of them wanted Percy to experience this.
He focuses on the waves and the way the rising sun sparkles on the tops of them. His father may not want him, but the ocean still does.
“Something happened,” Grover begins quietly. Percy feels his eyes on him.
It’d be easy to dodge what Grover’s asking. Of course something happened, they just fought a war. But Percy knows that’s not what he means.
They still share an empathy link, after all.
“We fell,” Percy says, just as quiet. There’s a reverent atmosphere over the beach. Too loud a voice could shatter it. “Annabeth and I. Into Tartarus.”
He lets the weight of that settle onto Grover. To his credit, he doesn’t react in shock or horror. There’s just a resignation, like Grover already knew. Or suspected.
Percy had IM’d Grover, less than a week before the fall. An explanation of where he’d been all those months, filling in the gaps Annabeth had figured out before their reunion at Camp Jupiter. The memory loss, the shielded empathy link. The call hadn’t lasted long—the Argo II was attacked in the middle of it—so Percy had promised to call back when he could.
He never did.
“I didn’t feel it,” Grover finally says. “One moment, you were there, and the next, nothing. Not even like when Hera shielded it. Just… nothing.” He sucks in a shaky breath. “I thought you were dead.”
Percy draws his knees to his chest.
“And then… poof! Suddenly you were back.” Grover’s fingers skitter across the sand in a nervous rhythm. A tiny crab pokes it’s head out and gives him a little nudge. “But it was different.”
Percy watches the crab burrow itself back into the sand. “Different how?”
“Almost like… mood swings,” Grover says. “Conflicting emotions coming in through the empathy link. Things that didn’t make sense. Like you were two different people.” His brown eyes find Percy’s, wide and curious. Percy doesn’t need an empathy link to know the suspicions running rampant in his brain.
And what use is there to hiding it anymore, really? “There’s always been something wrong with my brain,” he begins.
Grover frowns. “What? Don’t say that.”
“No, no, not like the ADHD or whatever,” Percy chuckles. “I mean, something genuinely not right. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had these flashes of things that didn’t make sense. Images, thoughts… memories. Ones that didn’t belong to me.”
Percy lets that information settle in Grover’s mind. Watches him shift in the sand, processing.
“Rules are different in the Pit. Things that don’t make sense suddenly do.” Percy shrugs.
“A past life,” Grover finishes. “You remembered.”
He’s always been perceptive. Percy suspects Grover’s known for a while.
“Who?” Grover asks the burning question.
Despite himself, despite everything, a smile creeps onto Percy’s face. “Would you believe me if I said Odysseus?”
Grover laughs. A genuine one. “That would be ironic.” But then it hits him, through the empathy link.
Percy is serious.
Grover’s eyes lock with his, wide. “No.”
Percy nods.
“No!”
He nods again, eyebrows raised.
Grover runs a shaking hand through his curly hair. “Oh gods,” he bleats. “I made you fight Polyphemus twice!”
That is not what Percy expected to hear. It gets a surprised laugh out of him.
Grover braces his hands on Percy’s shoulder. “Dude, I’m so sorry! I made you go through all of it again!”
Percy keeps laughing. It’s just so silly. All of it. He’s just been rejected by his father, and he’s just fought a war, but Grover—incredible, kind Grover—wants to apologize for something that happened when Percy was 13. And it wasn’t even his fault!
“Dude, Grover, it’s fine.” He cracks a lopsided grin. “Besides, it was easier the second time.”
Grover bleats out a laugh, then slaps a hand over his mouth. “Gods, sorry, was that insensitive? Should I not have laughed?”
Percy draws him into a side hug. “You worry too much.”
He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like would’ve died on your first quest if I didn’t worry so much, but Percy chooses to ignore it. He did a fairly good job of keeping himself alive, thank you very much!
They lapse into another comfortable silence. The sun is above the horizon now, casting its morning rays over the sea. It’s a reminder that Percy still needs to thank Apollo for that shot against Gaea. And Athena for keeping his bow. And probably some others, too.
He lets out a long breath.
Grover leans his head on Percy’s shoulder. “I don’t—well, I can’t say I know what happened right before I got here, but… it’s going to be okay.”
Percy closes his eyes and breathes in the sea salt air.
They sit there for a while. Grover can probably infer what happened, but he doesn’t push it. He just lets Percy be.
It’s a special sort of relationship, the one they share. His only friend from before his life completely changed, before gods and monsters and any of that bullshit. Of course Percy loves all his friends, and every god and monster in existence knows of his love for Annabeth. But every relationship comes from different circumstances, and Grover’s will always be one of peace. Of a reminder of life before war. Sure, Grover was at Yancy to secretly watch over him, but their friendship was never a farce.
It’s one of those things Percy knows instinctively, deep down in the marrow of his bones; in any life, in any universe, Percy and Grover would always be friends.
With a sigh, Percy gets to his feet. He stretches, shaking sand off his legs, and holds a hand out to Grover. “Feel like getting breakfast?”
Grover takes it and hauls himself to his feet. He’s gotten taller in the past year. Percy has, too.
They’ve grown up.
Percy cracks a grin. “Race ya!”
He takes off before Grover can react, leaving him scrambling to catch up, but laughing all the same.