Books » Percy Jackson and the Olympians » Therapy

Author: pride-and-loyalty

Rated: T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Reviews: 17 - Published: 09-03-19 - Updated: 05-02-20

id:13379129

Welcome, reader! Here is the first chapter of my new story! It kind of serves as a prologue, so there isn't exactly a lot of action or movement (with the plot). Please bear through it, because things will start moving faster within the next chapter.

But, first, I'd like to thank DDaughterofAthena for offering me her plot and waiting for me to write a whole other story before getting here. Much appreciated!

And also a huge bouquet of thanks to TotallyNerdy, who beta'd this. Thanks for your patience with me and the technology!

Now, enjoy!

Annabeth Chase's Facts of People, Earth, and Life: Green eyes only exist in 2% of the worlds population, and is the most concentrated in Scandinavian countries. It is caused by less of black melanin (a coloring pigment), and more of yellow melanin. In most cases, babies only change to green eyes at around 6 months of age.

Percy felt dead and alive at the same time.

His veins rushed with energy, and an incessant buzzing pressed against his skin. Brightly-hued flares ballooned in his mind, with sparks and glowing cinders flying off. He felt fire crackling in his lungs.

But then, at the same time, his bones felt like they were filled completely with lead. Percy's eyelids were heavy black curtains, boarding up windows for war, and tiredness suffused every inch of his body. He could barely feel any air whispering in and out of him, and Percy wondered dully where his throbbing heartbeat had went. And why all he could see was black.

But suddenly, something was yanking open the door to his consciousness, and Percy could abruptly feel something. With his nerves, not his emotions. His limbs, which he had almost forgotten about, were trembling violently. What were supposed to be his hands was blob of shaking soft blue. His nerves were hurtled back and forth, and his skin was scraping against something rough. Floor… stone… sidewalk? He could not form cohesive thoughts.

Alarm flooded Percy, but his body was no longer connected to him. The cold was spreading across his body, freezing up his skin. Whatever was supposed to be alive was struggling out with his breaths.

With each shudder, grainy, slashed images blurred through his head. He saw a tall girl running around a corner, her tight black braid flying out behind her. A pair of bright new crutches tossed to the ground, and paws trampling over them. Sharp, throwing knives arching their way through the air, jabbing into a corrugated metal wall. Percy, feeling his breaths narrow to gasps, realized these were collages of his memories and strange fantasies. A shiny silver car went crashing into the side of a bridge, the hood crumbling and the cracked doors flinging open. A giant potbelly pig, slowly rose up and down from a narrow bed. Little gritty bits floating in a bowl of clear soup held in front of him with grubby hands. Screaming, in varying altitudes, as a young boy climbed up a wall and as a gray-haired woman reached out and someone ran to a stop at the edge of a field. And then a small boy came running down an empty lot, streetlights flickering above him, as dark shapes coalesced around him and scattered, easily keeping pace.

Pain grappled with him as he shook. The images began to blur, growing large black ink splotches. He was hopelessly struggling to regain hold of himself again when a crash jarred through his system. His mind went blank, and the bright fireworks smoked out. He had one last thought: what? before the darkness ate up the last awake part of him.

-line break-

And then he was a little boy, young, energetic, and pertinaciously struggling to stay awake. Tucked into soft on-sale blue blankets, he stared up at the glowing neon stars on his ceiling, a bright, sloppy mess. They starved off vivid, green light, casting the action figures lined up on his bureau and his mom in shadowy illumination.

"Mommy?" His whisper was loud in the night, belonging to the voice of a carefree little boy. He lazily watched the profile of his mom, because she was the most familiar face to him.

"Yeah?" She bent her head down to watch him, her eyes dark in the night.

"Are you going to stay?" He knew the answer to this, but asked anyway.

"Of course, honey."

He squeezed his eyes shut, but as usual, didn't feel the beckon of tiredness. "I can't sleep yet."

"I know. But it's okay, you will soon."

"Will you still be here?"

"Yes, honey, I won't leave." Her voice was slow, patient.

He turned. Her hair was a greenish-black under the lighting, and dips beneath her cheekbones were soft teal hallows. She looked like the most beautiful alien ever. "Are you going to be gone tomorrow?"

"Only for a little while. I have to go to my job, honey."

"I wish you didn't." He curled up, tangling his covers.

"I do, too. But I'll be back before you know it."

"When is that?"

"Sooner than you think. I'll be back early, actually." She sat a little straighter in her tiny chair, that was meant for him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, for dinner, and I'll have a guest with me."

"Who?" Sleep was on the very back of his mind by now.

She laughed, a loud, infectious sound. "Well, you don't know him. He's my coworker, Gabe Ugliano. He's very nice, and he's my friend, so I hope you'll like him."

"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "What is he like?"

"Oh, well, he's very well-mannered, a gentleman like you are now." Her rough hand squeezed his, so much larger and more calloused, than his. "And he's funny, he treats me well, actually, everyone. Once he bought us all coffee from that new expensive place down the street." She laughed quietly to herself.

Percy chewed his lip. This Gabe didn't sound horrible, but mom's soft laugh made him nervous. "Why is he called 'Ugliano'?"

She laughed again. "It is an unfortunate last name. I don't know why, Percy. He's actually kind of handsome."

He scowled. His mysterious dad, who disappeared when he was young, was supposed to be the handsome one. A sinking feeling dug into his heart. Percy curled up on his side, his green-lit mother disappearing from view. "Okay."

She patted his knee and was silent for a second. "You know, he really likes blue jelly beans too. I'll bring some home for the both of you. But don't worry, you'll still get a full bag. I can't stop spoiling you." She reached for his hand, laughing softly, and squeezed it.

He squeezed back, feeling a bit better. He knew more about this Gabe than he did about is father now. And blue jelly beans were definitely a win for him. "I can't wait to meet him, mom."

"Great." Percy didn't need to turn to see her smiling.

And though he was extra excited with the prospect of getting blue candy and meeting someone new tomorrow, the lull of sleep reached out and captured him, and soon he was in the light, dreamless world of young kids. And his mother sat right next to him, just as she promised.

-line break-

There was an unbeknown awkwardness in his limbs all of a sudden, and an aching hunger clawing at his gut. Dirt was a new, heavier layer of skin on top of him. Percy felt excited, famished tremors when he detected at a faint vegetable-y smell around from the corner. But squeezed all around him were roughened kids, every one larger than him, pulling out pocket knives or other sharp things and resting them on the ground casually. Percy didn't want to pick his way through them to the other side of the dirty alley.

Rough tarps were hoisted over their whole crowd, haphazardly around to cover the weak evening light, and broken crates stacked around them in sloppy piles. Light cut in and out of the crowd, so Percy could only see half of the people around him. Shadows played insouciantly wherever the light did not touch. Percy drew his gaze to the loose ring around him, curtained in dimness, but he could make out their features well enough.

Two scrawny, curly-haired boys of the exact same height were laughing boisterously with each other, rotating shiny things lithely through their hands. On the other side of them was someone almost completely hidden in darkness, except for a few slips of his milky pale skin. Nimble fingers played with a ring on his hand, undisturbed by the other, taller person leaning on him. A streak of light, slipping through the gaps of the tarp, fell on her bored face. She wore the same color as him and had the same glaring skin, but her searching eyes glinted as they fell on people across the gang. And though he sat rigidly, she still managed to be affectionate and curl against him.

Beckendorf and Silena, next to Percy, however, were a lot more affectionate than her, and louder, too. Their limbs tangled together, the gloss from Silena's dark, black hair gleaming over on Beck's broad shoulder. Percy knew for a fact that she didn't get to wash it regularly, but it stayed preternaturally silky and shiny. She was giggling into his rumbling laughs, or they would whisper things in a not-so-secretive tone, and the rare occasion they were quiet, Percy could hear subtle squelchy sounds that made him shudder.

"Stop staring," someone murmured lowly. "It'll make people think you want something like that."

Percy spun, gravel and dirt crunching underneath him. His jaw slackened. He continued staring at Reyna. "Did you just make a joke?"

One corner of her mouth lifted. She said nothing, only continued to clean her knife on a scrap of fabric.

"No, really. Did you actually say something funny?"

"Why would you think it's funny? I was just trying to help you." She tilted her head as she rubbed the cloth extra hard.

He was still too in shock to reply. Percy had honestly thought her incapable of doing anything like that. Ignoring the gurgling from his stomach, he swallowed and said, "Well, for the record, I don't want something like that, and I hope everyone knows it."

Reyna was quiet for a second. She lifted her head, looking away. "Jackson, I don't think these people are busy thinking about you. Just keep yourself alive, and you'll stay high enough in their regard."

He had nothing to say to that. "Well, when can I get some food?" His hunger, impossible to forget, filled his throat, choking him.

"Sooner or later. If you're ready to fight, you can get it sooner." Reyna let a silver of her teeth crack through as she held up her knife.

Percy paled, his hand running to a few scars on his back. He had thought this temporary peaceful respite would mean they got to civilly line up for things. "Don't we fight enough?"

"Never," Michael Yew butted in, sweeping dust their way. "Come on, Prissy, how else would we decide anything?"

Reyna stiffened beside him, but didn't say anything. She hated to be protective.

"You too, Rey-Rey. What about your sister—"

The glare she flashed him caused a half of Percy's face to catch frostbite in the steamy heat. She gripped her knife. "What about you going away?"

He smirked and disappeared into the shadow of a low-hanging tarp.

Percy was also desperately curious about Hylla. They bore such a resemblance, except Hylla was taller and about five times more muscular. Which made her even scarier than Reyna. He didn't dare say a word aloud.

"Let's go find some—"

Reyna was cut off by a piercing siren. All around the alley, people straightened, grabbing their weapons. Fear squeezed Percy's heart, and a cold sweat splattered over his skin. Sirens were everyone's least favorite thing, but they heard them on their tail rather often. A familiarly brawny figure suddenly stood above the crowd. "Run!" Clarisse screamed, jumping down into the flood streaming towards the back of the alley. They never camped in an alley with a dead end. Percy felt frost prod at his gut. Well, they didn't usually.

"No!" Beckendorf yelled, shaking him out of his memories. "Silena is not here with us!" Percy trembled at the panic in his earth-shaking deep voice.

But Clarisse was gone, and so was half of the people. Percy spotted two curly heads hobbling away already, and the familiar braided crown of Bianca vanishing into the shadows.

A cold grip clamped around his arm, and Reyna was dragging him to Beckendorf's side. "Leave, now. She's a smart girl. She'll know what to do."

Beckendorf's face was caught between doubt and terror. "But what if she gets caught?"

One of the tarps were caught and thrown away, erupting in a cloud of dust and dusky purple light. Reyna's high cheekbones were suddenly brighter, and the line of Beckendorf's wide jaw grew bronzer.

"We need to go." She released his arm, pushing him to face the other direction. "Percy, run ahead."

"What! No!"

"You're a slow runner," Reyna snapped in a low, no-nonsense voice. "Go!"

"No, I will leave with Beck."

The giant, heavyset guy, usually so calm, shuddered in panic. "No, I only need to wait for Silena!" He had to scream over the sirens.

A motorcycle engine, revving, sounded so close to them they all jumped. "Stop running, kids!" A loudspeaker blared. "We can help you!"

Percy shuddered at the words. He had heard them so, so many times in his short life. They were out in the almost completely deserted open, and all the police had to do was pull of this last tarp.

"Beckendorf, please." Reyna's voice was strained. Percy wanted to stumble away from his suddenly uncharacteristic friends, but he wouldn't actually leave them in danger.

Beckendorf quieted. "Fine, let's run."

They took off, dashing into the back of the alley, where footsteps still faintly echoed beckoningly. Percy didn't follow. He ran towards the other direction, out from under the last bit of cover. A whiff of burnt stew curled bitterly in his nostrils. Percy emerged into the mass crowd of motorcycles and flashing lights. Fifty armed policemen, it seemed, snapped to attention. Percy's eyes raked through the mass of gathered policemen and equipment, searching the back windows of the idle police cars, the arms of the burliest guards, even the dusty ground. He found no sign of Silena's dancing eyes, shiny black hair, or bright smile.

"Where is she!" He yelled, backing away from the police closing in on him.

"Stop right there, boy. We don't want to hurt you."

"Where is she?" he screamed, running ahead. It was stupid, and he knew he was going to get caught. But for one brief second, he swerved ahead around a motorcycle, and he could see straight into a cloister of policemen, with a young girl standing in the middle.

As strong hands closed around him, he could only catch two things. First, he realized that Silena was standing there, completely of her own accord, not held in place, not even fronted by a threatening man. Second, that once her eyes met Percy's, they filled with screaming fear and she started running towards him, drawing a familiar dagger. It was Clarisse's torture weapon.

When Percy was getting forcibly turned around and walked away, the man crushing his arm suddenly fell away with a groan, and then Silena's shriek cut through the air. The police's pained hisses and whimpers echoed around him and in his mind, but he couldn't hear anything from Silena.

Twisting painfully, he scrambled in the tight grips holding him to see his friend, but he couldn't move, and then he was shoved, and everything dissipated from view.

-line break-

Percy's headache came to him foggily, the throbbing in his head slowly growing clearer and clearer. Thump. He felt taller, stronger. Well-fed. Thump. His throat was as dry as the desert. Thump. His heart wobbled with the erratic beat of some pop song that played in the distance. Thump. In his blurry vision, he could see dim lamps switched on in the room across from him, jumping candles lit on top of corner tables, and a gyrating mass of too-much flesh and nylon party clothes. Everything was in shades of pale fluorescent yellow or muggy black.

Someone stumbled into his shoulder, and continued on drunkenly to the room behind Percy. Something light sloshed into his hand. A red cup that was almost completely drained. Percy downed the rest, feeling it scorch all the way down.

He turned, following the way of the guy who just passed, and had to stop to hold his spinning head. The kitchen, with quaint lace curtains around a small window showing a clear night, was littered with beer cans and half-packaged bottles of illicit liquor and red cups. The tiny beer keg, off to the side, had a disorderly line gathered all around it as a girl with pink pigtails rowdily passed cups to everyone. Percy's throat was growing drier by the second, so he pushed his cup into the crowd and had it handed back to him a few disoriented minutes later, smelling strongly of at least five different types of alcohol.

He held it away from him and stumbled into the other room, with the dancing people. He searched the crowd, the music grating on his eardrums, for either curly hair or a Rasta cap, but he found neither. Not like his friends-despite how different he was from them-really spent time on the dance floor, either.

Percy found a deserted patch of wall and leaned against it heavily, feeling sticky sweat gather underneath his shirt. Girls in freakishly tall heels and slitted dressed passed by, eyeing him suggestively, but he just turned his face, too dizzy to focus on anyone. Where was the light mood alcohol promised? The instant gratification? Percy was starting to feel queasy.

Well, it had come. He was sure, earlier in the night, he was dancing in the middle of the crowd, and danced against a few girls, probably, but time had slipped out from under him and now he didn't remember a single thing. And he had done it while staying conscious the whole time. That was a record.

Because, now, he didn't need to be out of his mind to be lost from the rest of the world, Percy realized. He could be lost from everything all the same in his own head.

Someone bumped his shoulder, hard, startling him from his thoughts. "Percy?!"

A plain, broad face stared into his. Chris' brown eyes wavered slightly. "Why are you just standing there?"

"For no reason."

Chris stuck his hands in his pockets and fidgeted. "Are you okay, Percy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking. How's Clarisse?" The most he knew about Chris Rodriguez, really, was that somehow Clarisse liked him and he liked her back.

Chris smiled slightly. "Good. Acting like usual."

"Oh." That was the perfect place for him to make fun of his girlfriend for a little bit with him, but he couldn't bring himself to engage with Chris at all.

"Listen." Chris lowered his reproachful voice. He glanced around. "Just take this, please. I need to pass it to someone else. You don't have to get involved afterwards, alright?" His hand, closed, was held out. But before he would offer anything to Percy, he met his eyes and whispered contritely, "I'm sorry for this."

And then, before he could react, something was pushed into his hands and Chris was gone. Percy's brain cranked slowly, the gears unoiled and rusty. He tensed with shock when he realized what the small plastic packages contained. He didn't want to pass them out, he thought at first.

Why? Why not? He didn't have an answer to either of those questions. Some time ago, it might've mattered what these things could possibly do to people. But now, it didn't really. Percy searched the room, singling out people against the walls, or waiting for them to come to him.

It was the night of his first exchange. But he had watched it happen so many times, he knew what to do. How to subtly catch someone's attention, and then hold out his hand just a little, tilting it to obscure the view from everyone else. And how to bargain prices without saying much aloud, and then how to thumb through the money to check that he got the amount he wanted. He acted cool and collected around every client, as one of friends called them, and none of them seemed to doubt him. At least, no more than usual.

But inside, he kept feeling anticipation, like he was waiting for something urgent. Percy wanted himself to feel guilty, to feel trapped, or especially horrible, but he didn't. He just went through the motions, like this was just a job. And wasn't it?

When the music quieted, and people were beginning to rouse the completely passed-out ones, he asked around for Chris. He was pretty famous, from spending some time in the asylum to dating Clarisse, and when they were alone in the backyard, Percy thoughtlessly handed over the cash.

"Here you go. I used all of the packages. It's okay, man, I didn't mind doing it." He tried to assuage Chris, who looked deeply guilty and worried.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't keep them myself."

"No, I get it, I know these things are handed around. Keep all the money."

"Percy, no. I feel bad. I don't have to get straight back to the original source."

Percy shook his head. Chris was a good guy. He didn't need to get caught up in this. "Like you said, it was a one-time thing. I don't need the money. Take care." He patted his shoulder and went through the house to Grover's broken-down Volkswagen.

Juniper was at the front wheel, looking wide-awake and chipper and sober. She was a miracle, especially that she dated Grover, who was already snoring in the back. Percy squeezed in beside the Stolls, plus a few other guys, and leaned his flaming cheek against the glass window as they slowly rolled down the street.

He realized that he did feel something about dealing. He didn't really mind it. And then the moon disappeared from the endless night sky.

-line break-

And then he was back to being young, short and scrawny. Percy was standing in the hallway, right next to the photograph of him and Mom at the beach, clutching his too-big blanket tightly. He watched Mom's closed door, trembling in place. Yelling crackled from inside the room, not even stopping for more than a second for gasping breaths. Crashes echoed down the hallway sporadically, and he flinched every time. Percy could barely pick up low murmuring coming from his mother, and while her slow, soft voice calmed him like it always did, the loud obscenities and threats always chased that feeling away.

He didn't want to imagine what was happening inside. But he hated feeling helpless, standing barefoot in his pajamas. Every time his small hand reached out, the yelling grew louder. Mom had warned him once to not go inside, especially not when they were loud.

He heard a wild scream, and shivers shimmied around his body. His indecision wavered. Fear caused his palms to grow damp as he grabbed the doorknob. He knew how Gabe could get, and he didn't want to face that. But a quick gasp, sounding too polite for someone like Gabe, froze Percy over. Mom. He had to get to her.

Percy shoved the door open, his palms wide out. Swinging in, the door slammed into Gabe's back, and he turned with a low growl. Something burned in his squinty eyes when they caught sight of Percy. Something shrank into a tiny ball inside Percy, but he stared right back. He thought that maybe he had frozen in place from fear, but when Mom said faintly from the corner, "Percy, please leave…", he knew he had to stay.

Gabe lowered his fat face close to Percy's, his eyes glowing almost red, and Mom was reaching out, something dark spreading on her forehead, screaming soundlessly.

And then, though his eyes felt like they were open, he couldn't see anything but darkness.

-line break-

Percy struggled to lift his eyelids. When they opened up a sliver, burning light greeted him from the outside world. Sparks danced as he fought between seeing his surroundings and staying in velvety safeness.

Sight won out, and he pried his eyes open completely. All he could see were long, blinding bars of light, overcasting a speckled, yellow-tinted ceiling. Percy slid his eyes around, trying to see all that he could in his peripheral vision. A bedside table, empty. An orange overstuffed chair with a cracking cover. A small square window next to a framed kindergarten flower drawing. The other side had a tray stacked with metal things. And then the gently rotund middle of some woman in flowery scrubs.

It rose up as a screech grated against his ears. "Mr. Jackson! You're awake!" A few brunette locks fell into sight. "Wow, this is so amazing! Oh, wow. Your eyes are—"

He'd heard this spiel before, and without thinking, tuned out for a bit.

"Can you talk? Hello?" Her voice was just a bit softer when he went back to listening, after realizing she could be offering important information. "Silly me, you weren't in a coma. Sorry. I know, I sound pretty incompetent, but I'm just excited. I've been taking care of you for the past two days."

Percy almost sat up. How was he out for so long? How much did he take?

"—and then every day Doc would come and be like, 'Marina, are his vitals improving?' and I would say, 'It's really hard to tell' even when you were getting better because honestly I liked having you around and I'm just used to—"

"Marina," he interrupted, putting on a smile. Her voice stopped, stunned. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I want to know how I am."

"Oh, you're great! Solid temperature, blood pressure is fine, your heart wasn't too affected, and you've been sleeping well, but probably because we've put you out to observe how you're reacting. Speaking of," her voice turned into something along the lines of stern, "We had to take quite a while to purge you of illegal substances. You're doing alright, now, but your body is already showing signs of discomfort. You haven't gotten a drip of morphine at St. Claudio's, mister. An attorney Ms. Wickerstein is coming later to discuss rehab and court."

Court? Percy straightened underneath his dingy sheet, his sleepy brain grasping at straws. He thought paramedics wouldn't call the cops. At least an ambulance found him, or he would be a jail cell right now. "Oh, thank you, Marina," he said, feigning a smile. "I have to ask, though, what about my visitors?"

She giggled. "Oh, I know what you mean." Neither of them were on the same page, but Percy had to play along. He'd been through this a few times already, though he'd never been stuck inside for so long. He knew some people hated the manipulation, grasping around the law, using people for whatever intents and purposes, he but he didn't think about it too much anymore. Just going through the motions to get somewhere, he told himself.

"Yeah, I apologize, sometimes my friends can be rather-"

"—drunk?" The nurse laughed. "We had to ask the loudest one to leave, sorry. He was getting a little loud."

From this description, Percy was still unable to tell who visited him. "Oh, I'm the one who's sorry. Some of my friends, well, have histories of pulling stunts."

"Oh no, most of them were pretty behaved." This must've been an imposing hospital. "Just that one young man, Dakota something."

Dakota! He had a lead. "I hoped my friends helped him quiet down."

"Yes, actually, this one girl looked like she was about to kick him out without our help."

"Is she tall, olive-skinned?"

"Yes!" Marina clapped her hands. "She kept asking after you, though she gave up her visiting hours. And she talked a lot with Ms. Wickerstein."

"Oh, really?" he asked distantly. Inside, he was too distracted with thinking things over to pay attention to her anymore. Reyna had come to find him? The last time he was hospitalized, she had helped him too. But that was quite some time ago. Percy breathed slowly, feeling regret trickle out, one vicious drop at a time. If she did come, she would be up to her elbows again in his legal affairs, which she hated, but she was good at it. She looked like a lawyer already, and everyone agreed to her.

"And she's real pretty, too." Marina's buddy-buddy voice cut into his thoughts. "She cares about you a lot, you know." Percy could hear Marina winking hard. Wincing, he shifted his neck to look straight at her, and sure enough, she was.

"You're lucky to get her as a girlfriend, Mr. Jackson."

He stared at her, agape. "Me? And Reyna? What?"

Marina blinked. "Oh, I thought you two were—"

"We're not," he answered flatly. The thought made him grow sadder. Not because Reyna was horrible or anything, but because he found it impossible to feel like that anymore.

"She seems to like you, though."

"Please stop." He turned back to face the ceiling. "Can you ask if anyone is waiting to see me?"

"Yes, of course." She scuttled out.

Reyna really managed everything, Grover told him later that day. She wouldn't say what she did, though. And she never spoke to him (like usual), or even wanted to him once. She only informed Grover that Percy should be out by the next day, 7 pm.

So, at 6:40, he shuffled into the lobby, holding his meager things. He went to the front desk and handed over all his files and paperwork. The balding man scanning his papers kept peering up at him over the tortoiseshell rim of his glasses while Percy slouched against the marble counter. Despite being in bed for a week, he was exhausted.

Once he was handed back another stack of papers, he shoved them into his bag and headed to the front doors. Percy stared out at the thick flurry of snow disgruntledly. He didn't even have a good coat. And then someone called, "Perseus Jackson?"

Percy flinched. Quickly straightening, he spun around. Staring right at him was a vaguely familiar brunette with vivid green eyes, perched on one of the short leather armchairs in the across lobby. She waved him over. Percy, only at her insistence, took a seat, sitting as far away from her as possible. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm Miranda Gardener. Sorry to bother you, Perseus. I don't make a habit of this, but I peeked at your medical file when I accidently went inside your room." She held up a pleading hand. Her eyes crinkled a little like she was going to share something. "Please forgive me, but my sister Katie went into labor earlier this morning, and she was the same door number as you, but with a different letter. It was a different hallway. Anyway, I mean to say that I saw this is your third overdose." She leaned in, piercing him with her grass-colored eyes. "Third recorded overdose."

Percy could guess where this conversation was going. Swallowing, he looked away from her before pressing as much genuineness into his voice as possible. "I'm know Miranda. I've made some bad choices in the past, and they've destroyed my life. I'm not going to repeat them anymore."

She studied him closely. Miranda clearly saw right through his monotone. "Percy, I don't mean to offer any help for your drug habit. You get to choose what you use. But I can't let you get away with staying in a mundane—dare I say empty—life by yourself."

Percy sat back. She was sharper than he thought. "How are you going to keep me from that?" His voice straddled the line between sassy and curious.

"I'm going to politely ask you something." Her eyes twinkled a little at his defiance. "Despite not being much of a talker, at first glance, would you let someone to just listen to you?"

Miranda softened her tone as he went silent. "I have this friend who listens to everyone. To whoever's sitting next to her on the subway, to little kindergarteners that crossed the street with her, to the barista who's trying to make her coffee. She's a big talker, actually, but she finds her own purpose by listening to people."

Percy could, again, guess where this was going.

"I think she'll want to meet you, Perseus. I think she'll accept phone calls from you at the crack of dawn if you'll ever need to talk to someone outside of your life. There's nothing you need to mention to her, not your drugs, your job, anything. Just say whatever you want to say." Miranda stared back at him intently. He wanted to shield away, but he didn't. His curiosity about her friend glued in him place. Percy felt a sudden, hot spark of fear alongside the feeling of waves churning inside of him, low and stormy.

"I'll ask you now. Can you talk to her?"

The frothy waters splashed violently, ricocheting around the too-small space. He sat perfectly still as the waves surged, charging into a hurricane. Every glassy peak rushing up and crashing shook him. Percy was discreetly shuddering as a hole surfaced in the aggressive storm. He knew what was inside, and fear scalded his sternum.

Miranda was quiet now, holding out a crisp card. She was right; it didn't read her own name on it. Percy took it carefully and stood. He nodded slightly, avoiding her gaze, and then numbly headed to the sliding doors. They parted with a low whir, but Percy paused in his slumped steps. Lowering his head, he peered at the card in his palm.

It was a thick, speckled piece of paper. Small, curling, almost archaic decorations ran down the sides. A simple font, in a short list, read:

Half-Blood Hill Co.

CEO and Top Therapist

Annabeth Chase

The address and telephone numbers formed a neat border on the bottom. On the back, he discovered that it was made of recycled paper, specifically: (from old tests and assignments).

Tucking the card into his jacket pocket, he stepped outside the waiting doors. A flurry of flakes fell onto him. Percy crossed the powdered sugar-dusted parking lot. The waves inside him were falling back, back into frenetic stirring, now that he had glimpsed the one peaceful spot in the storm. It was growing larger and larger, but he didn't bother to stop it.

"Annabeth Chase," Percy breathed into the cold air, testing out her name. It sounded a little bit like hope.

That's it, thanks for reading! The chapters afterwards should be longer, but not excessively slow. You guys should expect it within a week. So, what did you think? Please review if you have any comments or advice.

Au revior,

Pride-and-loyalty