Chapter Text
It would be overly simplistic to say they fell into a routine. A routine implied ease and predictability.
But Sally and Paul did indeed pull Estelle in their room to sleep, especially when Annabeth took a moment to warn them about Percy’s fits when asleep and especially when waking up. Neither of them managed to hide their troubled expressions. Even still, Sally had ended up pounding on Percy’s door when he woke up screaming, but Annabeth had kept her word and barricaded the door with Percy’s bed.
When he was awake, Percy’s attempts at normality and assurance were almost painfully opaque, but Annabeth knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy to be with his family, that he didn’t mean every hug he gave his mom or every laugh with his little sister. As predicted, Percy was immediately as obsessed with Estelle Blofis as the little girl was with him, but then Estelle would waddle away and Percy would watch her retreat and Annabeth could see that same fear in his eyes.
He happily helped Sally cook — he’d been getting pretty good at it before everything — even when he couldn’t eat the food himself. Sally had wanted to stop cooking in solidarity, but easily agreed when Percy told her that working with her in the kitchen was comforting. Annabeth thought Percy was definitely telling the truth, laughing more in the kitchen with his mom than anywhere else in the Jackson apartment, but he also clearly didn’t want to subject everyone else to his diet. His stomach was adjusting, finally able to add simple breads and toasts to his meals.
But he was still so clearly tired. He hated sleeping because he almost always had nightmares, but he couldn’t seem to go more than a few hours without resting and he couldn’t rest for more than a couple of hours straight. And living in the same small apartment as a rambunctious toddler also wasn’t necessarily the best for Percy’s jumpiness. Estelle knocked over a tower of blocks and Percy jumped off the couch, Riptide raised. Estelle threw a crying fit, and Percy had to cover his ears to seemingly prevent one of his own. Estelle ran over demanding attention and hugs when Percy was two minutes out of a panic attack and struggling to handle anyone wanting to touch him.
Percy’s temper also wasn’t much improved, getting into at least one shouting match each day, hurting himself more with guilt in the aftermath than he did anyone else with his words. Just as frequently, he’d plead to Annabeth, try to convince her that they needed to leave, he needed to leave, he didn’t belong there anymore. It was fear more than anything else and it hurt to watch it overtake him.
Running away felt like giving up, but after a particularly brutal shouting match with Sally of all people, Percy stormed out of the apartment, clearly in an attempt to stop himself from saying anything worse when his mom was already crying. Though it was obvious to anyone with a clear mind that Sally cried from watching Percy be in such pain, not because he had done or said anything so hurtful, but Percy didn’t have a clear mind about these things. He still saw making her cry as evidence of his own ruination.
Annabeth chased after him, determined to cut off that line of thinking, and, admittedly, to also look after him wherever he was going, but she didn’t have to chase him far. She found him standing frozen in the lobby, just looking out the front doors.
“I used to run away a lot,” Percy told her without turning around, his voice tense. “I mean, not—like that. I mean… I did it a lot that year before… when I was fifteen. I was too stressed and angry and, honestly, terrified and it would get overwhelming so I would just leave. Just walk out. Sometimes in the middle of the night. My mom hated it, we got into arguments about it, but eventually she just started letting it happen, waiting up for me to get back. It helped me to clear my head. I’ve never—” Percy chuckled and without seeing his face she couldn’t tell if it was more angry or sad. “I”ve never been good at sitting still,” he said quietly, the words sounding like a recitation she couldn’t identify.
Annabeth glanced outside the glass doors, to the crowded sidewalks. Percy hadn’t been outside, excluding his fire escape, since their disastrous walk over from Central Park.
“I feel so stuck,” he confessed and Annabeth didn’t think he was just talking about having to stay inside.
She moved forward so she now stood shoulder to shoulder with him. “Let’s go to Montauk.”
Percy hadn’t been able to hide his relief, even when she said she would have to figure out logistics with Sally and it might take a day or two. For starters, Paul had taken that week off of school, but he couldn’t do that forever. Secondly, their usual little cabin was A) not available on short notice and B) probably not big enough for the entire Jackson-Blofis clan. And all the while there was a nettling feeling in Annabeth about not wanting to let Percy backslide fully into isolation.
So she had an additional pitch.
Anyways, Sally found a different cabin on more or less the same beach. It wasn’t large, but at two bedrooms it was definitely larger than the usual Jackson cabin. Alas, one of its two bathrooms was broken and it actually didn’t have a good view of the water, and its nearest strip of beach was rocky and slimy and far from picturesque.
It was perfect. They booked it for two weeks.
Paul would return to work and Sally and Estelle would stay in New York with him and join Percy and Annabeth on the weekend. As much as Percy would refuse to say it, he probably did need a break from the chaos that was sharing a space with a toddler, but at least here he could go outside, go into the water, hell just go for a walk without being swarmed with crowds. After all, it was too cold for crowded beaches and the popular bit of soft sand was half a mile north. It would be quiet.
Percy certainly seemed relieved as the two of them stepped inside the cabin, grinning against Annabeth as she explained the freedom he would have, the thought and care she and Sally had put into choosing that specific cabin. He started pulling Annabeth into their bedroom, whispering about other things they would have the freedom to do now and please stop talking about my mom.
Of course he still had nightmares and he woke up in the middle of their first night with a frustrated groan that had him surging to the front door. Annabeth would take frustration over being terrified or furious, but she followed him all the same. He stopped before he got to the water, instead plopping down on the slimy rocks of the so-called beach. She just sat next to him and waited. Eventually he would either talk to her or he would go back inside. She’d follow either whim.
“It was my dad,” he finally said, nudging a rock with his toe.
His—? “Your dream? Your dad talked to you?” he nodded and Annabeth scoffed. “Took him long enough.”
Percy sighed. “Not really. That was his third time talking to me. The first time pretty quickly after I— got out, and again in New Rome.” He’d said it all with a tense jaw and glaring eyes on the almost overly calm water.
“What does he say?”
He shrugged. “He’s sorry about what happened. He was grieved to learn I fell, overjoyed to learn I was back. Wished he could have helped or done something but the laws prohibited blah blah blah.”
“You’re angry at him.” Fuck my father’s domain, he’d said in New Rome.
Percy’s lips twitched, like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh. “Sometimes. But also, not really. Or, I’m not mad at my dad specifically. He’s not technically the reason all of this has happened to me and the laws are what they are, I’m just… done. I’m just done,” he said, finally looking at Annabeth. His eyes were a storm. “Whatever comes next, they can call someone else. Or it all can burn. I don’t care. I’m just done.”
Annabeth grabbed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. She understood the feeling. She’d threatened the gods on more than one occasion the past five years and she’d meant it every time.
But she also knew… if there was something that would threaten his family—demigod or mortal—Percy would rise and do what was needed. And she thought he knew it. And the worst, most infuriating part was that the gods knew it too. Poseidon knew it.
Percy looked so tired. Always.
###
The next phase of Annabeth’s plan arrived on Wednesday.
Annabeth smiled as Grover approached, racing forward to hug him. Even without everything else, it had been so long since she’d seen him. Being a Lord of the Wild took a lot of work and coordination all over the country— world even. And yet, when Annabeth had been at her lowest, he had been there when she needed him. And so she knew that when she Iris messaged him a couple of days ago and said it was really important that he come visit her in Montauk, he would make it happen.
“Hey, Annabeth. Estelle and the others not around?” Grover adored Estelle and Estelle was endlessly fascinated by the horns poking out of his hair when he forgot to put his cap on. They were still trying to mostly protect Estelle from the mythological world, so he hadn’t shown her his other goatly qualities yet.
“They will be this weekend. It’s just us for a few days,” Annabeth told him, trying to work up the courage to finally have Grover be the first person to be told about Percy in a normal and coherent way. She’s been practicing this in her head all morning.
“Oh?” he asked, a little surprised but not unhappy. “What’s the occasion? It’s not exactly beach weather out here. If you wanted to go swimming, I could show you this perfect little beach in Florida that I’ve been working to clean up with some local naiads. There was some runoff from a local power plant, but we got that— uh, it’s been shut down. Through totally normal, mortal means,” Grover said with a nervous bleat and Annabeth laughed. He looked up at the cabin behind her. “This isn’t the usual one, right?”
“No, we thought we needed a bit more space. Anyways, I should probably tell you… Okay, third time’s the charm. So, a few weeks ago—” But as Annabeth spoke, Grover kept staring at the cabin, tilting his head and frowning, looking like he was barely listening to her. Then his eyes widened.
“It can’t be…” he whispered.
“Grover?” she asked, but he ignored her entirely, moving past her and running into the cabin. She followed as fast as she could, but Grover was quicker on his goat legs than people gave him credit for. He threw open the door and only then did he slam to a stop, Annabeth running into his back.
Percy stood ten feet away from him, breathing hard, probably from being startled by Grover’s sudden entrance, but still he smiled. “Hey, G-man.”
“Perrrrrrrrcy!” Grover cried out, rushing to hug him. Percy flinched, but still opened his arms to accept the hug. Except Grover stopped short, eyes studying Percy carefully. Then, he reached out to hug Percy again, much slower.
The three of them ended up lounging in the small living area around a fire. Grover asked carefully delicate questions, only about how long Percy had been back and where they’d been since — so obviously trying to reassure Percy that he wasn’t mad about it taking a couple weeks to tell him. Then Grover regaled them both with stories of his travels and work (the power plant had not been shut down through normal, mortal means), including some of his highlights over the last few years.
Percy cracked up, at times laughing so hard he snorted or teared up, and it felt so good to watch him like that. The trouble part was when Percy would look away and Grover’s expression would fall, just a bit. The satyr couldn’t stop staring at his friend.
Eventually, as much as he tried to fight it in order to spend more time with his best and oldest friend, Percy needed sleep. He went into their bedroom, where he still slept on the floor with a blanket, and Annabeth stayed out with Grover. They continued their light chatter, soft as to not disturb Percy, until finally Grover sighed. “He’s asleep.”
Annabeth twisted to look at the closed door. “Empathy link,” Grover explained. “This close I can tell.”
“That’s why you knew he was here before I could spit it out,” she guessed.
“Hera suppressed our empathy link and I hadn’t gotten to see him since. I figured that was why I never felt…” he grimaced.
“But you can feel him again?”
Grover nodded. “Annabeth, he feels so… frayed.” He met her eyes sadly. “I’ve been linked to him for years and through a lot of dark stuff. He’s never felt anything like this.”
Annabeth felt herself deflate. “But today was a good day,” she muttered pathetically.
“He’s trying really hard.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“You’re doing everything you can.” Grover nudged her leg with his hoof. “You know, when we were younger, I could feel the way Percy felt about you before even he realized it.”
She laughed wetly. “Everyone could feel the way Percy felt about me before he could.”
Grover conceded with a smile. “Yeah, and back at you too.” She snorted. “But I mean, especially in that last year or so, he would look at you and I could feel his whole brain rewire itself. It almost felt like he was… buzzing.”
“And now?”
“And now he’s always buzzing. In a different way, of course. This buzzing feels more…” he considered. “Less butterflies, more hornets. But I can still feel a shift when he looks at you, except this time the change is that he settles. Just a little bit, but it’s there. He feels safer and more relaxed when he looks at you.”
How was Annabeth not supposed to burst into tears at that? Grover pulled her into a tight hug. “Tell me how I can help.”
###
On Thursday, Annabeth told Percy the truth about the end of the war on Gaea. When she explained what happened to Leo, Percy kept shaking his head, at times even started arguing with her, and Annabeth was forced to rush and explain Leo’s return with Calypso. At the mention of her, Percy’s expressions shifted again in that too fast way for Annabeth to decipher, but seemed to land on self-punishing as always.
When they finished the full story of the battle against Gaea + Leo’s return, Grover and Annabeth met each other’s eyes in a quiet conversation that Percy caught. His shoulders sagged. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
And so they told him what happened to Jason. He handled it as well as could be expected.
It took both Grover and Annabeth over an hour to try to calm Percy down. He’d started with his classic denial that looked like it would turn into a panic attack until he suddenly seemed to switch courses and began raging. Screaming at the sky and the ocean and all the gods — but Zeus and Poseidon in particular. Annabeth reached out to Percy and only Grover’s quick intervention kept her from falling when he lashed out — which of course led to a deep shame spiral. “Jason didn’t deserve to die,” Percy shouted, “he wasn’t like me—”
“You don’t deserve to die either!” Annabeth had screamed back at him, the words ripping at her throat as they came out.
Which of course set them back on his you don’t know what I’ve done schtick. Percy was drowning in his emotions and from the way Grover kept grimacing, he was inadvertantly taking his best friend down with him. Annabeth’s link to Percy was less literal and she still felt like it was killing her.
Eventually Percy settled on the ground, staring out to the ocean, the fog back and heavy in his eyes. Annabeth tried to keep her sobbing quiet behind him and Grover looked at her concerned. They both knew that Percy not reacting to her crying was the biggest sign that he wasn’t really present. The satyr moved forward and began coaxing Percy to his feet so he could go inside and sleep. Percy obliged slowly and robotically.
As soon as they were inside, Annabeth fell to her knees and sobbed openly.
Grover rejoined her a few minutes later and sat behind her, sniffling heavily. “So this… this was not a good day, I take it?”
Annabeth laughed through her sobs. “No. No, it wasn’t.”
“He was going to find out soon. It's best that it was here and with us.”
“He’s right about Jason,” Annabeth said, trying to wipe her tears. “I mean, not all his self recrimination bullshit, but Jason didn’t deserve to die. Gods, it’s not like he and I were even that… I kind of resented him for a long time, while Percy was missing. But he was a good guy and a really good demigod and he didn’t deserve to die.”
“No, he didn’t,” Grover agreed, taking her hand.
“Percy doesn’t deserve to die either,” Annabeth said.
Grover’s hand tightened around hers and she suspected it was more for him than her. “He doesn’t feel that way,” Grover said, voice thick and shaky. “He’s alive because of you. Pretty much only you. That’s what I could feel during—” He sniffed again.
“Tell me what to do,” Annabeth begged her friend again, even though she knew he had no more answers than her. It was the closest she would come to prayer as the gods did not deserve her attention. So Grover just pulled her in tight and they sat out there miserable and crying and terrified for their friend — but at least they weren’t alone.
###
On Friday, Grover asked to spend some time alone with Percy, which Annabeth was happy to agree with, hoping the satyr could glean some new information through the empathy link. Percy, clearly still fairly deep in his fog, agreed easily and monotonously.
Besides, Annabeth didn’t want to be the only thing Percy lived for. It was too much pressure. Sure, she was pretty sure both of them were fully committed to burning Olympus down if the other died, but it was different than that. Or at least, it felt different in her head.
She wanted to be a reason to fight and to come home, not simply a wall between him and the abyss.
So, maybe Grover would help him remember that he loved more people than just her. And then tomorrow the Jackson-Blofis family would rejoin. And maybe next weekend they could go to Camp where there would be more people who cared for Percy. Chiron. Clarisse, though she’d never admit it. Annabeth could probably get Piper to come visit — though would that trigger Percy’s feelings about Jason? Annabeth hadn’t gotten around to telling Percy they’d broken up prior to his death. And Leo would be there, but there was also the whole Calypso of it all. Rachel, Annabeth thought. She should definitely call Rachel. The oracle had acted like an oasis of normalcy to Percy before and while Annabeth had truly hated it then, it might be exactly what he needed now.
And even if Camp was chaotic, his cabin was always quiet and peaceful. He’d have a place to go to for isolation and a wide space of activities and nature when he needed distraction or freedom.
But that was next week’s problem. Instead, Annabeth moved around their cabin, cleaning up dishes and tidying up before the Jackson-Blofis arrival. She even walked into town to get a few groceries. It was a nearly forty minute walk there, but Annabeth was in no rush.
When she came back, Grover and Percy were sitting outside on the gross beach, and while she couldn’t hear what was being said, Percy was talking in his usual animated style. Annabeth felt so relieved she nearly dropped the groceries she’d painstakingly carried that far. Percy looked annoyed and aggravated, but what she would call a normal level, and certainly not fog-like. Grover said something in response and Percy snorted and rolled his eyes. She went inside without disturbing them.
A few minutes later the door to the cabin opened and Annabeth jumped. She turned to find just Grover. “Sorry,” he said.
“Percy?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“He’s outside. Asked for a few minutes alone.”
She nodded a bit too agreeably. “And is he— I mean, how do you think…”
Grover shrugged. “All things considered and grading on a sharp curve, I think he’s okay. He’s embarrassed and guilty about yesterday, because of course he is. Still grieving Jason — though I think it might be more about what Jason represented and what his death means to demigods in general. Which, of course, then he also feels bad about not feeling the personal aspect of it as strongly. It’s a whole spiral.”
“Sounds like him,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously. She pulled out some of the food she had just put away. “I’m thinking Percy could maybe try some simple noodle soup? And surely, not even I can fuck that up.”
“He’s open to going to Camp next week,” Grover said.
Annabeth looked at him, surprised. “You brought it up?”
“Well, more like he did. He said he felt bad about other people he cared about not knowing he was alive — after grilling me about whether there was anyone else dead he didn’t know about. He also…” Grover hesitated. “He thinks it might be good for you there too. He’s worried about how much of a burden he’s being on you. I know, I know,” he said, hands raised at the look Annabeth shot him. “I did my best to talk him out of that one, but you know how he is. Best I can tell, he’s trying to speedrun his recovery, which doesn’t seem great but seems better than him not trying at all. Also— I agree,” Grover said nervously. “I think you having a support system is important too.”
“Is this your way of saying you’re leaving?” she asked weakly.
“Just for a couple days. I’ll stay long enough to get the world’s best hug from Estelle and then come back on Monday after handling a little Wilds business. I’ll stay through next week and escort you two to Camp Half-Blood when the cabin rental is over. If that’s okay?”
Annabeth smiled and rushed over to hug one of her oldest friends. “Just like old times, Protector.”
Grover snorted sadly. “Don’t know how much protecting I’ve been doing for you two the past five years.”
“Hey,” Annabeth pulled away but held onto his shoulders. “There was nothing you could have done for Percy while he was… gone. And you did everything you could to try to find him when he was missing and then to help broker peace between the camps when we were in Europe. And when I was suffering afterwards, you never let up or gave up on me. And you’re here now. You are an amazing Protector, Grover. And yet, somehow, an even better Lord of the Wild.”
Grover looked so pleased that he was near tears. “Oh, Annabeth. You’re a really amazing friend, too. And you deserve people looking after you, even—especially—while you’re trying to look after Percy. And we’ll all help however we can, but you’re doing a really good job.”
Annabeth wiped at her tears despite her smile. “Ugh, I am so sick of crying, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but if you’re about to cook, I fear I’m not done with it.”
“Oh, shut up!” Annabeth said, cackling as she shoved Grover.
That was when the cabin door creaked open again and Percy tentatively stepped inside. Annabeth kept her smile up. “Just in time. I was about to make dinner.”
“And you can help her keep it edible,” Grover joked.
Annabeth pretended to glare. “You don’t have to eat it, goat boy.”
“I care about my friends not dying of poison.”
While Grover and Annabeth playfully bickered, with perhaps a bit too much forced levity, Percy watched passively until the room fell to tense silence, Percy still in the entryway. Finally, he stepped forward and looked to Annabeth with a grimace. “How are we still feeling about that no apologies promise we made?” he asked.
“Strongly,” she told him. “We’re feeling very strongly about it. How are you feeling about grabbing a pot to boil some water for me?”
Grover turned to her, “Wait, can you not boil water?”
“Hush.”
Percy’s smile ticked up. “Yeah, Wise Girl. I can boil some water for you.”
“Great!” Grover decreed with a clap, settling in at the counter while the demigods cooked. “No one’s dying of food poisoning.”
Percy gave Grover a fist bump as he passed and placed a light kiss into Annabeth’s hair before turning his attention to the cookware. She had a sneaking suspicion that it was his method of trying to apologize and thank them without saying it. Annabeth snuck past him to grab the pasta and slipped her hand over the small of his back as she did so. She’d have to hope he got her silent message too.