Chapter Text
When Luke met Thalia, he thought I never have to be alone again.
Loneliness was something the boy was well-accustomed to. He'd spent eight lonely years in the house his mother haunted, watching her whittling further and further away into the shell of a woman he'd never met. He'd spent most of his life praying to an unseen, unheard, unfelt father that most of the time, Luke wasn't sure really existed, much less cared. He'd spent the last two years wandering from place to place - never able to stay long, never able to make a true friend. No one had ever understood before what he was, or seen the monsters always nipping on his heels. Most of what he knew of the world, Luke had pieced together on his own, and that included the almost mythical concept of friends and families.
But Thalia was like him. They were the same age, just two kids who'd largely been left to raise themselves. They weren't the same. Thalia was beautiful, powerful, quick-witted, so sure of herself. Luke ... was just himself. Still, Thalia thought he was a worthy companion, saw pieces in him that Luke struggled to see in himself. When they found Annabeth, Luke really felt they were carving a family out of the cruel world. A family that would always be there for each other. A family where none of them were left to brave the storm on their own.
Thalia was rough on the scrapper they'd taken on, but Annabeth adored the older girl. Things were only getting more difficult for them, though. When Hermes told them about this strange camp for demigods, Luke really tried to put aside his grudge, to focus on what was best for the girls. He had to put his family first. His boiling temper, his need to prove himself after that brief and unhappy return, his fear of the thing that had hung over his neck since he was in the cradle, it was getting them in enough trouble. Thalia and Annabeth deserved better than this life on the run.
It would be nice, if Luke were honest, to have a place to call home again. But it was hard for him to reconcile. Grover talked on and on about this Camp Half-Blood when the young (Too young, Luke thought, pitying) satyr found them, unaware of the pit growing in Luke's stomach. Something about this place didn't sit right with him.
They find the Labyrinth shortly after Brooklyn, and Daedalus finds them barely five steps in. If it weren't for Annabeth's concussion (a part of Luke was bitter toward his friend, that she cared so much now, believing their girl had finally proven herself), Thalia and Grover never would have agreed to go with the man who appeared so suddenly. They'd lost what few supplies they still had back in the mansion, though. She needed medical attention immediately.
Luke isn't so hesitant. Maybe it's because Daedalus reminds him a little of Hal. Maybe it's because he's desperate.
Maybe because something about the Labyrinth - its winding passages and roads, its danger and hidden treasure, its unconquerable nature - speaks to the boy. Every step through felt almost like he was flying, a sense of peace he'd lacked since the visit to his mother's house. For the first time, he couldn't feel the guillotine blade hovering over him.
Grover hated the Labyrinth, because it smelled like monsters, and because it was underground. Luke thought the satyr's reaction to it was ridiculous. Technically speaking, Grover was a monster. And where was wilder than the underground, the sunken caverns and hidden caves? Luke had only managed to follow so much of their guide's jabbering about the Lost God, but when he stared down a shadowed path, Luke couldn't help but think this was probably where the satyrs should have started.
Thalia hated the Labyrinth because it was underground, too far from her father's sky and storms. He had to give her that one a tiny bit more. But while they stayed in Daedalus's workshop home, waiting for Annabeth to heal fully, Luke resented her bad attitude about it. The man was being kind enough to take care of them. Daedalus retrieved new, cleaner, better fitting clothes for all of them, made sure they had plenty to eat. When Luke got over the last of his nerves, Daedalus let the boy play with his beloved pet hellhound. Luke didn't think anyone who took such good care of a creature like her could be that bad.
Annabeth, when she was awake, hated the Labyrinth because Thalia did (which was unfair), and because of the dreams her mother had sent of Daedalus's past.
It was rich, in Luke's opinion. Murder was wrong, he didn't argue that, but Minos at least had it coming. And how many times had Athena herself disfigured or destroyed someone out of jealousy? Daedalus had spent centuries of penance for his nephew's demise. The gods had punished the man by making him immortal centuries ago - unable to die, and unable to reunite with his loved ones.
Maybe he'd spent too many years alone himself, but that sounded worse than anything the Fields of Punishment could deliver, to him. He didn't want to imagine being kept eternally away from Annabeth like that.
Which was why her leaving cut deeper than the others.
The way they'd been arguing, the way she'd been acting lately, an impulsive part of Luke wondered if he'd even miss Thalia. He knew she expected him to give in. Like he always did for her, putting her wants and needs above his own. Part of him wanted to, especially when Annabeth insisted she was going with Thalia and Grover, but Luke was at the end of his rope. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that he couldn't go to Camp Half-Blood. Everything in him rejected the idea. It wasn't as simple as hating his absent father, or misgivings about an eternal summer camp.
Despite his best efforts, tears welled in Luke's eyes as he watched the three of them leave. His throat was painfully tight from the emotions whirling inside of him. Would they be safe without him to watch their backs? Would they be safer without him there, causing problems for everyone, messing things up?
Would they even miss him?
For a year, all Luke had was Daedalus and Mrs O'Leary. The three of them kept each other company. It was fun, Daedalus helping him decorate and personalize Luke's new bedroom, but then the dark of the night fell, the world outside his window cast in deep shadows that reflected his room. Whenever night came, Luke was alone again.
He tried to distract himself from his misery. Daedalus got him a proper sword, and the old inventor began to train Luke. Getting back into schoolwork was difficult. The good news was, Daedalus was supervising and customizing his studies, and the man understood how Luke's dyslexia and ADHD made him struggle. Before he ran away, school had been one of the better parts of Luke's life. He'd even learned how to get there on his own. It had meant waking up painfully early for a kid his age, but it was better than his mom having a fit in front of his entire first grade class, on the days she was able to get him there in the first place.
Now, all he had to do was open the laptop his guardian made him, and he could start on his lessons and classes.
Slowly, Luke was familiarizing himself with the Labyrinth. Daedalus made him a key so he wouldn't get lost. The Labyrinth itself helped at times too, once it had adjusted to Luke as one of its inhabitants. He still saw monsters sometimes. On the rare occasion, he had to fight them, but most of them just saw him as an extension of Daedalus. The more sentient ones became distant neighbors in his mind. Luke wondered, sometimes, if they were a little relieved to have a demigod around who didn't want to kill them. Thinking of all the monsters he'd picked fights with and killed in the past, Luke couldn't help but feel guilty.
He was still lonely, though. Luke hadn't quite forgiven either of the girls for abandoning him yet, but he missed them, the easy companionship of people closer to his own age and experiences. Daedalus had taken him in like family, and Luke didn't doubt the man cared about him. His guardian was thousands of years old, though, and didn't often display the kind of affection Luke couldn't help but crave.
Then; Luke finds him.
In actuality, Luke finds rats.
This section of the Labyrinth was reminiscent of an abandoned subway station. Luke hadn't really spent much time in those himself, but he was familiar with the idea from shows and movies. It was poorly lit and in dire need of a cleaning. In one of his more temperamental moods, Luke tried to shoo rats away from his feet, nose wrinkling as he took in this part of his extended home. He needed to bring a broom or something out this way. Insane though the effort was, Luke really tried to take care of the living maze.
Something scampers over his foot. Narrowly repressing a yelp, Luke kicks toward the rats irritably. "Will you just go away already?!" Luke groaned, though their behavior left him slightly unsettled. He didn't remember them as usually being this daring. Checking his magic compass - a more recent, imperfect invention of Daedalus's, which the man swore up and down only worked in Luke's hands - Luke confirms his suspicion he's near NYC.
One of the smaller rats hisses at him. Unimpressed, Luke kicks at it, sending it and some of its friends scurrying away. A crumpled old soup can comes flying out of nowhere, bouncing off of Luke's side. "Don't hurt them!" Something cries angrily at him. For a stupid moment as he whirls, sword already raising in alarm, Luke wonders if the rats were bigger and more sentient than he'd realized. There's barely enough light to make out the figure further down the tunnel. To the thirteen year old's immense relief, it's human-shaped.
Well, a small human, sword lowering slightly as he registers that it's a little kid. The boy's eyes drop to the glowing Celestial Bronze in Luke's hands. He isn't sure what the Mist makes it look like, but obviously, it's nothing good. The kid's face goes pale. He shoots Luke a look of sudden fright, all his bravery and indignation gone in a snap. Luke realizes a moment too late what's about to happen. "Hey, hey, it's okay, don't - " Scrambling to reassure the kid, Luke moves the sword behind his back, other arm outstretched in a gesture of peace.
Gravel goes scattering as the kid does an impressive 180 degree spin, barely keeping his balance as he takes off in a dead run. Luke groans loudly before giving chase. If King Minos's ghost - who had, wisely, not made his presence known to Luke yet - didn't turn the poor kid nuts, something was likely to eat the boy. Luke had grown to like his antisocial neighbors, but if they were going to have human for lunch, he'd prefer it be someone who stood a fighting chance.
As he follows the kid around a corner, Luke remembers very quickly that monsters and ghosts might be the least of their worries. When the most response he gets to his pleas for the boy to stop is a panicked look over the boy's shoulder, Luke grits his teeth, already eyeing a trap directly ahead of the boy's path. At least this area wasn't covered in gravel and loose stones. He used his longer legs to his advantage, though Luke got the sense the boy was starting to tire out anyways. Luke had no choice but to functionally tackle the other, twisting both their bodies as they fell, taking the impact in fear of crushing the kid.
A year of training and three square meals (plus snacks) with Daedalus meant Luke was pretty sure he was at least twice the boy's size.
"No!" The kid shrieks, not unfairly, starting to struggle before Luke's had long enough to even catch his breath. He yelps as uncut nails dig into his skin. One hand catches along Luke's jaw, nearly breaking skin, the other digging purposefully into one of the arms restraining him. Instinct takes over, making Luke release the kid before he can catch himself. There'll be bruises later from the barrage of kicks.
For being so damned small (and stick thin under baggy clothes, Luke was realizing), the kid fought like a wolverine. Luke spits out a few curses he learned from an Army vet on the streets. He narrowly manages to catch hold of the boy's ankle in time, too frantic to be gentle, yanking him back down before the boy can finish trying to scramble back to his feet. Luke feels bad when it makes the kid scream - at least until the other leg catches him dead in the ribs. This kid had to have been a mule in a past life or something. "Cut it out!" Luke demands, gracelessly attempting to cage the boy more than pin him. The poor thing was already scared enough. Another kick gets him in the gut, knocking the breath temporarily out of Luke.
Daedalus was never going to let him hear the end of this. He was losing a fight to a kid not even big enough to cross the street alone. In the back of his mind, Luke felt truly glad for the first time that Thalia wasn't around. The kid was probably smaller than Annabeth, though maybe about the girl's age.
And cowering, Luke notes as he registers the lack of flailing limbs.
The boy's curled up in the fetal position, which Luke knew was instinctive enough, but the way his arms wrapped around his head registered as practiced to the older boy. He was whimpering, narrowly not sobbing. Luke's stomach drops to some cavern in Erebus. "Hey," Luke speaks quieter, trying to make his voice soothing, leaning back slowly.
"I'm sorry," the kid hiccups. "Please - Please don't hurt me."
Well, if Luke didn't feel like scum of the earth before that, he definitely did now. "I won't," he reassures quickly, scooting back on the concrete flooring, both to give the kid space and to take stock of both of them. "Sorry I scared you, but you can't just be running around down here. It's really dangerous." When the boy tentatively lifts his head, Luke nods his head in the direction they'd just been going. Teary eyes go wide when they spot the triggered spikes now lining the pathway. He pushes himself upright quickly, scooting another couple inches away from them in fear.
Luke's relieved that the kid doesn't seem to be hurt. His own aches weren't anything a First-Aid kit and time couldn't heal, since Daedalus was reasonably strict about nectar and ambrosia only being used for emergencies. There was a tear near the outer seam of Luke's pants. Picking at it for a second, Luke guessed it was from the crash-landing, and he'd have to see later if his skin got busted in the process as well. He shrugged it off, looking back to his mystery companion. "How long have you been down here?" Luke questioned. His gaze trailed over messy curls and worn-out clothes. Wet marks from earlier tears cut through the dirt and grime covering the kid's cheeks, which looked too sunken in for his age, the effect only heightened by bruise-dark circles under the kid's eyes.
He hesitates for a second, obviously still skittish of the older boy. "I'm not sure," the kid admits. His eyes go unfocused, confusion twisting across his face.
That was fair, Luke reasoned. Time passed weirdly in most parts of the Labyrinth.
"I wasn't going to kick the rats," Luke eventually voices into the tense silence. "I was only trying to scare them off."
"Oh," the kid replies, pulling his legs up to his chest, "sorry." He sets his chin on his knees. Fear flickers over him, hugging his arms tighter around his body, trying to make himself even smaller. Luke's heart twists. "Is this - am I trespassing?" There's a note of panic in his young voice. It seems like a big word for a kid his age, and he speaks it in the slow way of someone sounding it out inside their head.
Luke thinks on the question for a moment, trying to decide on the answer. "I mean ... not exactly? It's kinda public property, for anyone brave enough, but it's also part of our home." He remembered to look to his compass, then. In real-space, they'd covered a lot of distance, and Luke didn't care to do the calculations on where that meant they were. By his best guess, he was transporting minors over state lines again. It was incredible the amount of laws a kid on the run could unknowingly break. By Labyrinth-space, they hadn't gone far. Luke figured that was a relief. They'd need to move soon, try to get back to their starting point before the maze shifted things around.
Especially since he dropped his sword. If Daedalus believed in grounding idiot charges, Luke was so grounded.
Shuffling catches his attention. He lifts his head again to find the kid's moved closer, and Luke's briefly knocked off-guard by the bright, blueish green of his wide eyes. Luke immediately hates anyone who has ever hurt this boy before. "This is your home?" He asks, voice hushed, still a little shy past the almost awe in his question. Like it was really cool that Luke called a living death maze his home.
Luke smiles, helpless to stop the gesture. "I'm Luke," the older boy offered, pushing back onto his feet, holding a hand down to the younger.
It takes him at least a full minute to make up his mind. "Percy," the kid returns, accepting the help up. He came up to Luke's shoulders - narrowly. Luke knew he was on the taller end of the spectrum for his age, and guessed Percy was on the shorter of his own, maybe breaking four feet. Self-conscious, the kid adjusted his clothes, tilting his head back toward the ground.
"Stick close," Luke requests, hovering a hand near Percy's shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure yet if it was okay for him to broach the remaining distance. "I'll lead the way back to where we started, okay?" Percy looks up again with a nod - then, haltingly, watching Luke nervously, he curls his hand around Luke's nearest. The older boy was pretty sure it had been over a year since the last time someone had held his hand. Annabeth had always been hyper-independent, especially for wanting to appear capable enough in Thalia's eyes. And his first friend had long been sparing with physical contact.
Grover probably would have let him, but from what he could guess, when Hermes says I'll send a goat, Hermes sends the satyr-equivalent of a kindergartner. Banishing those thoughts, Luke curled his hand loosely back around Percy's and started leading.