Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or the characters described in this fanfiction. They are a creation of Rick Riordan. What is written here is a pale imitation of his works.

The Outcast

Percy dreams of water. The smell of salt and brine, the gentle rock of waves consumes him. He also dreams of laughter, blue food and warm hugs. He dreams of his family all together and wakes alone.

The house at Montauk is on the beach far from anywhere. Sand creeps over the threshold and into the kitchen. The sea mist too, has seeped in under the door and the salt is sharp on his lips. The sound of waves outside makes the silence of the small house more profound. It is in these moments that he misses Tyson, a most recent loss, adding to the deep ache where his mother used to be.

Close upon this loneliness is frustration and envy. Tyson is permitted to work in the forges in father's kingdom. Percy is kept in Montauk to fight monsters. He knows why he isn't allowed to go. Amphitrite doesn't like him, Triton had said as much. But still, it hurt. He wonders, not for the first time since Tyson left, why now. For years Tyson had been his friend and brother, his presence keeping the monsters at bay. Now Percy is on his own with orders to stay away from other half-bloods least they realise who he is.

Percy sighed and readied for work. He'd dropped out of school as soon as he could, much to his teachers' pleasure, wincing at what his mother would have thought. But his father had provided him with a proper education. His home is filled with books (his teachers would have been shocked) they're just written in ancient Greek, is all. It is also filled with weaponry, sea shells and coral, and maps of the worlds' oceans. There is also a stable, though it has been a while since Arion and Blackjack visited.

The sun was just rising as he wandered over the sand towards the pier munching on some toast. He'd picked up the ticketing job at the theme park on the pier to distract from the mind numbing work on the docks. Before that he'd been a lifesaver but the money had been awful. He supposes the next inevitable step is onto a fishing trawler and into his father's domain but something is holding him back, tethered to land. Maybe it's the thought of his mother.

He also has a surfing race with his brothers this weekend. They're riding the dreadnaught again and Percy is keen to try a new technique he thought might work. He had been inches from beating Triton last week if it wasn't for Chios dropping in on his wave, nymphs.

He grunted to the other zombies as he entered the office on the pier. Sarah was reviving over a coffee and made a minute movement of her lips that could have been 'good morning'. Frank was snoring against the folding table. Good, reliable mortals.

He helped himself to some coffee and sorted out his timesheet, change and ticket reel for the day, 'accidentally' kicking the table so Frank woke with a start and a grunt.

"Good to see you're alive this morning," Percy grinned cheerfully at the bleary red eyes.

"Damn you Jackson, too cheery by half," Frank replied wiping dried saliva from his chin.

"Come on, another beautiful day spreading cheer to the kiddies." Sarah actually cringed but whether it was at his upbeat tone or the thought of the screaming kids he doesn't know.

"Kill them all," Frank grunted as poured coffee.

Percy smirked and whistled as he left the office, keys in hand. The mist was heavy out on the pier speaking of rough waves and Percy paused with the key in the lock. White foam bubbled against the pier and he could see breakers further out. He could sense a tension in the ocean – something unsettled.

"Melas," he whispered. The mist was so thick that the lights from the office looked like fog lights in the gloom.

Some of the mist condensed to form a slight figure that looked a lot like Percy, only more opaque. He also wore a similarly troubled expression.

"Something is wrong," Melas said his voice high and worried.

Percy took in his half-brother's expression and continued with unlocking the gate and walking up the pier throwing on lights. Melas walked beside him in the deceptive lope of a water nymph.

"Father has called battle stations," he said.

"Battle?" Percy's stomach dropped and the hair on his arms rose.

"Some darkness has come from the deep," Melas continued. "An ancient darkness."

There was silence as they both contemplated that thought. There was only one darkness that all sons of Poseidon feared; Kronus.

"Tyson sent you this," Melas said handing over a bronze wristwatch. "He's busy in the forges but he's worried about you."

The watch was beautifully crafted, as was to be expected from the Cyclops. There was a turn on the side not unlike a mortal watch to wind time but when Percy pressed it there was a clunk deep inside the watch and bronze plates whipped alarmingly from within to form a superb bronze shield. Percy smiled grimly, his baby brother was always looking out for him.

Twisting the shield so it was once again a watch he turned back to Melas. "Are you going to Atlantis?" He asked with just a trace of wistfulness. Melas understood though. Melas was the first of his brothers he had gotten thoroughly drunk with and had several deep and meaningful ramblings about fatherhood and gods.

"No," Melas looked back at the shoreline. "I'm to ready the home guard and prepare for final reinforcements."

Percy swallowed his worry. Father would be in the thick of it. So would Triton and Chios, knowing his brothers. And here Percy was, selling tickets.

"Take me with you, I can set up a triage," Percy said hopefully but Melas's expression darkened.

"Amphitrite is seating up the triages." Damn that goddess. Percy had never felt so helpless.

"Better keep the dreadnaught running then, the current will confuse any who aren't familiar with it and it'll give those on the southern entrance some extra speed," Percy said, because it was the only advice he could offer.

Melas grinned, looking not unlike Triton when the latter had a Great White in his sights during Shark Week. "Little brother," he said, his tone oozing with pride. "We'll turn you into a warrior yet."