AN:

Yeah, yeah, long time since I updated and all that shit, but I apologize for not particularly caring. I didn't like I could produce anything worthwhile in that time so I didn't. It's as simple as that.

Now, read on.

/AN:

Despite the uncomfortable nature of the circumstances, Zoë found herself quite content with the progression of the day. Mary returned several times throughout the day to inquire as to what the young huntress may desire, and furthermore to return with such requested items. Percy had also been kind enough to drop off a bag of books he presumably salvaged from his apartment for her to thumb through and read. She was, for a majority of the day, deeply engrossed in A Confederacy of Dunces and loving every moment of it.

At periodic intervals Zoë would attempt to stand up, using the side of her bed as a support. Sometime by the midday she was able to stand on her own. Then she made the mistake of attempting to step forward.

A few minutes later Percy was helping her off the ground and dabbing at her chin with a damp washcloth. Zoë herself was silent, fuming actively.

Shit.

Zoë growled in frustration, her forearms stinging and her legs burning with a fiery passion of pain. At least she hadn't cracked her chin this time.

She pushed herself off of the floor, looking back up at the bed she sighed. She felt useless. She hated feeling useless. The desk clock on the other side of the bed chirped happily at her. Five beeps occurred before silence followed.

She sat on the edge of the bed a few moments later, her feet dangling uselessly off of the side. Zoë let out a dejected sigh and lay back on the bed.

Almost immediately someone knocked upon the door. They were sharp and slow.

"Come in, Percy." Zoë didn't move from her prone position upon the blankets.

She heard the son of Poseidon approach her. A shadow crossed her face as he stepped between her and the window.

"Didn't crack your chin this time?"

Zoë sighed and glanced a twinge despondently up towards him. "No."

Percy followed her secondary gaze and leaned down. Using one arm he cupped her back, which caused her to wince slightly, and helped her slide back to the pillow at the head of the mattress. As she lay back and closed her eyes he slid a chair over and took a seat.

"I haven't seen Mary much today," said the huntress.

She was aware of a subtly uncomfortable shift in the atmosphere from the man on her left. She let one of her eyes drift upen and caught him staring at the side of the bed frame with his lips pursed.

"She's . . . got a lot on her mind," his words came out carefully, like a man treading an amount of ice equal to the energy that he contained at the present time.

Zoë bit her lip. There was so much she was just not going to ask. The only people more tired than herself perhaps in the whole demigod world were the two of them. And what Mary had said in the early hours of the morning. . .

The woman shook away her thoughts. "Where do we go from here, Percy?"

Percy smiled wanly. "You don't mean our next destination do you." He sighed when she shook her head and ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't know." He admitted. "I'm getting you back to the states I know that. I've got to go somewhere else. Asia maybe."
"You don't-" but Zoë stopped herself again. Not the time yet, she reminded her conscience, though her sense of duty rebelled futilely against her thoughts. "I just said not physically."

"Then I truly don't know." Percy's eyes looked dull. "It sounds like you might have a war on. I'm not cut out for that shit anymore." With his left hand he tapped on his leg restlessly, and the huntress recognized the sort of movement that it was. The two of them had both seen the horror of the past night. Zoë didn't blame him for his restlessness. Instead she felt an unfamiliar pang. She squashed it nervously.

"Do we even have any way to get off of the isles?" As far as Zoë knew, they had an old shitty car and that was the extent of their resources. She wasn't even wearing proper clothes, though she could have been. They were just black pajamas. Talk about lacking presence.

The atmosphere was instantly uncomfortable for the second time in their interaction. Percy went silent, staring at nothing.

"Percy?" Zoë tried hesitantly. He didn't react. At least, not instantly. He was still sluggish in his processing when he wanted to be,

Then he stood down and slid her down off of the pillow, helping her rest her head back lower down. The covers below were slid up her body and he gently pushed her back down when she tried to sit back up. "It's something Mary and I need . . . well . . . we might need a bit of time to work out."

'Did something happen between you and Percy?' Zoë remembered the doctor's words and connected the dots all too well.

"Anyway, you just lay here and rest and work on getting better." He lay a hand on her arm and nodded. "Ok?"

Zoë opened her mouth but something didn't feel right. She looked down at Percy's hand on her bare skin. It felt . . . odd. Something wasn't consistent.

Her eyes widened and her heart sank with concern. "Percy?" She said hesitantly. "Percy, what's wrong?"

His eyes met hers, confused. "What?"

She grabbed his left hand in her right. Her fingers coated his and gripped softly. The tremolo was even more noticeable then. "Percy, what's wrong with your hand.

She gasped as he retracted as if he'd been bitten by a viper. He glanced quickly at his hand before shoving it roughly into his pocket. "There's nothing wrong." He growled. His eyes shone a fear to her that only increased her worry twofold.

"There's nothing wrong," he repeated at a mutter and backed away to the door. "Just rest." The door flew open and despite the huntresses protests he rushed out and slammed it shut behind him. She could hear his frantic footsteps all the way down the hall. Three words echoed in her mind from years past.

"Please . . . don't leave."

Zoë cursed and buried her face in her hands. Just one exchange . . . just one fucking exchange, and I couldn't even get that fucking right. As she drifted off to sleep she was ashamed to feel the light tickle of a triad of tears that rolled down her face

Percy ignored Zoë's protest, exiting the room as fast as he could. He brought his hands up level with his eyes. They did waver. Slightly, as the case may be, however the movement was still there. A steady back and forth rhythm sent jitters up his arm. He broke into a run.

Mary yelped and threw herself back against the wall as he stormed past but he paid her no mind. The steps thundered under his tread, all except for the final three which he lept from and raced to his bag in the spare room downstairs at the end of a long corridor.

The door slammed shut behind him and he skidded on his knees on the floor to the bed. His hands had worsened, and it was because of this that it took some effort to wrench open the zipper of the duffle bag that held his medicine kit. Finally the pull gave and he threw open the gray bag to yank out the vibrant red emergency box inside.

Supply after supply hit the floor. He threw a couple of bags across the room that were of no use to him at the present time. Then a glass bottle and a syringe fell onto the floor.

He picked them up shakily and twisted off the cap. Inside, an unearthly pale blue sloshed

and slid around the walls of the bottle. It glowed faintly in the darkness. He stuck the end of the needle into it and drew back, watching as the substance drew up with his pull.

Once it filled he flicked the glass, and then, gritting his teeth, he shoved the needle into his bicep and pushed down on the other end of the syringe.

He couldn't stop the involuntary shiver as the ice-cold liquid nearly froze his veins. His hands stopped shaking. The syringe clattered to the floor followed by the bottle, which bounced and rolled under the bed.

Carefully, Percy stood up. His legs felt strange under him, but he knew how to deal with that now. Let the muscles lax, let the body stumble, allow the knees to hit the bed, and fall peacefully over backwards.

His eyes stared up at the ceiling for a full three minutes after he had drifted off into sleep.

Zoë was jerked back to the realm of the awake and alive by a soft knocking on her door. She rubbed her eyes and glanced left to her window. A faint light of orange hue trickled through the weave of the curtains casting dull shadows across the floor of her room.

She sat up slowly. Her muscles and joints ached with every movement but it felt less stiff from before. A smile crept slowly onto her face as she flexed each of her arms without a jab of pain beyond which she could ignore.

The knock came again and Zoë shivered as her bare feet made contact with the hardwood floor chilled by the radiator beside the head of her bed. A few shaky steps was all it to motivate her to take more confident strides and was inconsequentially pleased with herself when she reached the door.

She threw it open to reveal Mary standing in the passageway. The doctor eyed over the huntress stunned, her dim eyes wide and her lips parted slightly.

"My," she said, "you repair fast."

Zoë demurred, "I've had more than enough practice." Her head cocked sideways and she leaned against the doorframe. "Anyway, what brings you here?"

"Well, I routinely check in on all of my patients in the evening," said Mary, "But I'd also come up here to check if you'd like to go get a drink or something." Her next words were less sure than those of her previous statement and her frame owed slightly. "I think there's a bit we need to talk about."

Zoë tested the strength of her legs. Finding them satisfactory she nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. I just hope you're not hoping it leads anywhere!" She winked teasingly, but within the privacy of her mind she paled horribly. Dear gods, what has Thalia done to me?

Mary sputtered an embarrassed protest before Zoë decided to take pity on the woman and return to her room to change into more appropriate attire.

Jeans, a white sweater, and a pair of brown trainers later the two stepped out of the front of the local hospital. Mary turned back to work shut the old fiddly locks that never quite worked properly.

"Is Percy not coming with us?" Zoë asked, and once again noticed the slight flinch Mary experienced at the mentioning of the demigod's name.

"Erm . . . no," she jerked her arm right and felt the lock slide wheezing into place. The two women began walking as she continued. "He's locked himself in his room and he didn't respond when I called to him."

Zoë felt a chill go down her spine that she was sure had nothing to do with the light breeze that caressed them along the local main drag. She dismissed it although nervously. Percy was fine. Percy had no reason not to be fine. Repeating those thoughts to herself did calm her, but it didn't quite shake the feeling.

Mary led the two of them to the Source. The old pub was rickety in construction and was labeled with a wooden post chained to a post above the door. It made soft jingling intonations as it swung in the breeze. Walking past a young couple stepping with a gait far to unsteady than could be considered safe or practical, the two women entered the bar and sidled there way up to the counter.

Zoë ordered a Bianchello del Metauro on offhand hope, and was frankly astonished and delighted to find the drink somehow in their stores. The young doctor accompanying her went considerably simpler and just ordered a Guinness beer. They clinked their glasses together, Mary gave a traditional scottish toast and the pair had downed half of their glasses in a few seconds.

The veteran huntress sighed to herself with her first few sips. She had missed the fine wines of Italy in the United States. It was an enjoyable surprise to receive one in England.

It quickly became apparent that Mary was drinking far more than Zoë planned to. The drinks kept coming to her and as they arrived she became more and more unraveled.

Zoë slipped the bartender a five pound note to cut her off after what she believed to be too much. This did not bode well for the doctor and it was at this point the misery struck.

Their conversation had been relatively light and amusing for the majority of their time, swapping jokes with Zoë sharing the odd story from her travels. The minute the last drink was empty though Mary flipped on a dime.

Zoë moved her to a booth to allow her to sit down out of the way of the crowd. There Zoë sat beside her and let the woman revel in her own personal hell for a handful of minutes before returning her to her offices.

"Percy was my world. . ." Zoë had to pause for a moment after those words were said to make sure she had heard them. They were uttered so softly and so tiredly she had difficulty in even making them out to begin with.

On the bench she noticed Mary had tears in her eyes. She hiccuped slightly. "He . . .meant everything to me. . ."

A comforting hand rested on the young doctor's shoulder. Zoë gazed at her sadly. In her mind a missing piece to her latest puzzle fell neatly into place. Right into the spot she had left deliberately open for it.

"You loved him." Zoë stated it as opposed to queried it, and felt an empathetic tug in her heart when Mary nodded.

She spilled out all sorts of incoherent things after that. To Zoë most seemed to be rambling. She mentioned names she had never heard of. She also mentioned Percy's a lot. They had met in a bar. They had grown close. They pursued a relationship. The other people were merely there in the background. Zoë listened with one ear and focused her attention inward to her mind. There was certainly a lot she was going to have to ask Percy.

There was one thing that Mary said that caught Zoë's attention. It was enough to pull her from her musings and wonderings about the future and make her suddenly think in a whole new direction.

"He lied to me. I trusted him and he had lied to me so much. So much, Zoë. . ."

The huntress didn't respond. She sat in silence unsure how to proceed. Her people skills were still in development and the last thing she wanted to do was make things worse.

The two women sat there in the smoky room listening to cars rumble past outside and a crowd of Irish bikers throwing darts and engaging in snooker.

Fifteen minutes later someone busted in.

He ran up to the barkeep. There was a hurried conversation and slowly the hubbub of the room around it died and the man's rapid words were heard clearly.

"There's a fire," he was saying, "A fire at the hospital." And Zoë went cold.

Suddenly Mary shot up as if sobered. The look in her eyes would keep Zoë awake on lonely nights for years after. The doctor rushed the man nearly pinning to the wall. Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes wide with horror.

And then she ran for the door.

Zoë followed her quickly, and the throng of the pub stormed out afterwards. Mary was already flickering in the distance in the eyes of the mortals but to Zoë she was clear as day.

The hospital came into view in one brutal moment and Mary jerked to a stop. Zoë slowed beside her and the two stood bathed in firelight.

The entire central hub was in flames as well as the east wing. Only the west stood standing and even that was beginning to be subject to the licking flames as well. Part of the roof had collapsed inward and the walls bore holes used by the fire brigade to break into the building. As they stood and watched the entire east wing suddenly creaked and fell, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris among a horrendous shrieking noise. And above it cutting wildly through the night was the anguished scream of a young woman in a dying dream.

A moment later though something occurred to cause Zoë's hear to soar. Storming out through the smoky chasam, carrying a body over his shoulder and another spread between himself and another man, was Percy Jackson. His shirt was zinged with small burns but he looked otherwise unhurt. The man was laid down next to several other figures and immediately fussed over by various bystanders with wet towels.

"Percy!" Zoë called to him, keeping a hand firmly on Mary's shoulder. He turned to look at her and immediately rushed over. Some of the crowd had already begun to disperse as with the arrival of a second brigade vehicle and and two ambulances the worst seemed to be over.

"Mary! Zoë!" The relief in his voice was palpable and he seemingly without thinking swept the two of them close to his chest and held them tightly with each arm.

Zoë was stunned for a moment but responded likewise, but noticed Mary hung nearly limp in his arms.

He let them go, coughing into his elbow he took a step back and his expression, reset into an angry deadpan, told them not to speak of the moment that occurred. "The fire started ten minutes ago. A blast of heat energy tore through one of the windows downstairs and immediately engulfed the whole main lobby. There was nothing I could do." He looked helplessly at Mary.

Zoë felt the chill from earlier return. A hand lightly covered her mouth and she took a deep breath. They weren't safe in London. They were never safe in London. Her boring gaze managed to pull Percy's eyes away from Mary for them to meet hers for just a moment. She saw here fear shared in him. Whatever had attacked them in Marlborough had decided to strike again. But this time the price for their failure was steep.

"What- what about the patients?!" Mary stuttered, her tone wrenching. "What happened? Where are they!?"

Percy couldn't meet her eyes. "Mary. . ."

"No!" The doctor shook her head, her lip trembling. "Don't you Mary me, Perseus Jackson. What happened to the people inside!?"

The demigod looked solemnly back at the fire. We got some out when the flames started. It was just me and some guys who ran in to help. But. . ."

Mary didn't wait for him to refind his vocabulary. She pushed passed dazedly, staring at the wreckage of her office and home.

Zoë's eyes glazed over and she felt moisture prick at their corners as she watched the scene unfold. Percy was calling out Mary's name but she didn't seem to be listening. He kept walking slowly towards the building as if she was in a trance, drawn to the horrible tragedy of her loss like a trainwreck one can just not cease to observe.

"Mary! Mary we have to go. It's not safe here anymore, we have to get the hell out of here. Mary!"

Percy and Zoë watched from the sidelines as Mary sunk to her knees among the rubble, put her head in her hands, and began to weep.

AN:

Greetings loyal readers who somehow decided to wait around for me to return. As you can see I have finally posted an update that I hope will appease your hunger for plot points. Some big things happened. All I shall reveal for the future is this event is what prompts Percy to accompany Zoe further in her travels within the story, oh yes and Mary comes with them as well.

Next stop shall be the continent, where the ever elusive Von Lipvig is sure to make an appearance. Look out for him and hold your pockets shut when he walks past.

Please read, rate, review, favorite, and follow if you enjoyed this chapter. If not? Well I can't really tell you to go do something insulting because I did let the ball drop on the update schedule so I have no right to act haughty.

Until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off.