Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dear Laurel,

I'm sorry I haven't visited in a few days. We were working on an important case, and Agent Briggs and Ronnie needed me. I'm looking forward to seeing you again this weekend! Hopefully, we can go get ice cream at that cute corner shop in the village. Nonna told me you love their chocolate flavor.

How is everything at home? I hope Nonna is doing well. Tell her to meet up with Judd soon, he is totally into her (you did not hear that from me). They would make such a cute couple. They're like two generals, but with hearts of gold. Also, please tell me if the cousin cult is bothering you again. Maybe I can get them to shut up. For one minute.

Anyway, everything is fine here. We've caught the bad guy thanks to Lia finding out important information. By the way, Lia says she misses you a lot. She can come with us this weekend if you'd like.

We have a new Natural recruit since this Monday. Her name is Ariah. She's our age and she seems very cool. She's sharing a room with Sloane and me for now. Her closet is full of bright colors, there's not a single white or black item in there, can you believe that? She has a photographic memory and can replay moments down to extreme detail, which seems like a useful skill to have in our group. Briggs told me someone else will be joining us soon, but I haven't heard anything about them yet. I hope it's a boy, for Dean's sake. He could really use someone else who can help with keeping Michael in check...

On this week's news: Lia and Michael are back together! Again. No, this is not a drill. Seriously, those two need to make their minds up. Dean bought me a locket necklace with a picture of the two of us inside for Valentine's Day. Never knew that guy could be so romantic... I love it so much, I don't think I will ever take it off.

I can't wait to see you again!

Love,
Your favorite sister Cassie (I'm your favorite, right? Way less bossy than V, that's for sure...)

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson: Slayer of Giants and Titans, Son of Poseidon, Saviour and Hero of Olympus, Praetor of New Rome, Prince of the Sea and Protector of Demigods, is bored. What has the world come to?

He looks around in Cabin 3. The fountain is still flowing, and the cabin is still as good as empty just like six years ago when he had first arrived, but he finally has the peace he had always asked for. He didn't realise how repetitive life would get though. He loves teaching the younger demigods sword fighting and having more time for his friends, but sometimes he misses the thrill of adventure. Not that he would complain. He knows how lucky he is, with the gods still not being able to solve their own problems despite being, well, gods. He sighs, pushing himself up in a sitting position. If he could take the burden of the younger demigods, he gladly would. No one deserved to go through the same things he went through.

He could check on Annabeth's progress on the architectural layout for Olympus. He and Annabeth broke up a year ago, after realising they were better off as friends. With all the constant quests and fighting, they hadn't realised how unhealthy their relationship actually was. They were constantly competing with each other, instead of celebrating each other's victories and growing together. Now that's cringe. Who the Hades put that thought in his head?

Just as he stands up, heading for the door, someone bangs on it. Loud. Percy's hand instinctively goes to his jean pocket, feeling the familiar shape of Riptide's pen form, before he catches himself. Gods, it was probably one of the other campers, why was he so paranoid nowadays? An image of the rocky landscape and blood-red sky of Tartarus flashes in his head. Huh. Who was he even kidding?

"Perce?!" A strangled voice calls out.

Percy races to the door, quickly opening it. In the doorway stands a curly redhead, panting heavily.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" Percy asks. "I... Prophecy..." Rachel manages to say.
Her eyes were getting a glowing green tint. A second later, green mist starts to come out of her mouth in waves. It reminds him of Akhlys. Fuck's sake Percy, get it together.
When Rachel speaks again, it is in a deep and ancient voice that's definitely not her own.

"You shall return to the mortal world,
Where something bloody has been unfurled.
A group consisting of six and two,
Shall face endless woe in the place they once knew."

Percy has just enough time to hold out his hands to catch her as Rachel collapses into his arms.

"You okay?" He asks.

Rachel gives a small nod, disentangling herself from Percy. He holds onto her shoulders for a few moments, making sure she's steady.

"Thanks," Rachel says, "What did I say?"

"Something bloody in the mortal world that I'm supposed to go and fix. I mean, that's nothing new, right?" Percy replies.

"What else?" Rachel is starting to look worried, clearly not ready to lose her friend once again.

"You mentioned... A group of eight? I..." Percy's voice starts to waver, sounding more distant. The world starts to swirl around him.

"Percy? What's happening?!"

There is no time to respond as Percy's surroundings start to blur. The last thing he feels is a cold, stinky breeze before he opens his eyes again and finds himself in an office. Well, that's anticlimatic. Not even a battlefield? He quickly touches his pocket, Riptide is still there. Thank the gods. Escape route detected. He gets up in a swift motion, checking out the view. More office buildings and bushes. He must be on the fourth floor, maybe even higher. Maybe he should just take the enemy out and take the door on his right. Would've been fun if he still had the Curse of Achilles, though.

Percy sits back down, leaning towards the desk. Ugh, English. Really? The letters all blend into each other, making it difficult to read fast. He catches a few words that don't really clear anything up, like 'natural' and 'troubled past', before rapid footsteps are approaching. Unsure whether to run, fight or freeze, Percy uncaps Riptide and gets into a fighting stance.

"Ah, Percy Jackson, there you are. Nice to meet you. Agent Briggs." A tall, brown-haired man extends his hand towards Percy, who quickly puts Riptide back in his pocket, which the man doesn't seem to notice, and gives an awkward handshake. Was this a god acting like a mortal? The man appeared human but was clearly in a position of power. He'd seen weirder stuff in his six years of knowing he was a demigod. Percy didn't recognize him, although that didn't say a lot. The guy could be Roman, or maybe a minor god. What would he even be the god of? Confusing conversations?

He's not a god, Jackson, focus.
Who are you? Why are you in my head?
Wouldn't you like to know, sea boy.
Well, get out of it. I'll deal with you later, I'm kinda in the middle of something right now.

Percy zones back in as the man, presumably an actual agent then, is talking about his hard past.
"I know how hard it has to have been and probably still is for you," he says, with a kind smile on his face, showing several smile lines.

"What exactly..." Percy trails off.

"The kidnapping must've been very traumatising." Right, kidnapping. That's what the mortals thought he was doing while he was actually saving their world for the first time. And it wouldn't be the last time either.

"But what if I told you there are more people like you? Other teenagers with abilities like yours? We call them Naturals here."
Other abilities like him? What the Hades was this guy talking about? Surely he couldn't know he was a demigod.

"How do you call my... abilities?" Percy asks, not sure how to play this one.

"You're a natural protector, Percy. You instinctively know when a person is a victim in a situation, take for example a runaway child who was actually just trying to get away and start a better life. And when you find someone who needs protecting, you'd do anything to keep them safe." Huh. That was actually not that far from the truth.

"Our group of Natural recruits lives in a large house in Denver. They assist on both cold and active cases for the FBI and are specialised in serial murder cases." Teenagers assisting the FBI? That seemed more like the Greek style and much less like the mortal way of living, but okay.

"You could save lives with your gift, Percy," Agent Briggs continues. "Your legal guardian has already signed our contract. We are very glad you will be joining us." There was absolutely no way his mom would do that without telling him first. Best to assume a god signed that dam contract for him.

A thought popped up in his head. "How many others are there? Other Naturals?" The term felt weird in his mouth. Why would they name an FBI program after something that sounds like Grover made it up?

The man looks relieved now Percy has finally shown something that could be called interest. "There are currently seven Naturals. One of them only joined us last week."

Percy maybe wasn't the best mathematician, but he knew his basic equations. Whatever the gods' plan was this time, it seemed like they wanted him on this program. So on this program he would go. He would not let anyone hurt his mortal and half-mortal family (again). And apparently, that was called 'Natural Protector' here.

Way up above and way down below, gods issued sighs. Of relief. Or dread. Maybe a mix of both, who knows?

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Ariah Akina is not insane. At least, that's what her therapist says. And considering her only other option is to accept that she is a first-grade psychopath, she'll continue to believe that.

“What did you see today? Can you draw it on this piece of paper for me?” Ms Lamberts asks. She pushes a lined paper across the desk, towards Ariah. She takes it hesitantly. Her pencil flies over the paper, it's as if she's taking a picture of something that's right in front of her. It looked just like a horse but with large, feathered wings and a powerful-looking body. Its fur was pure white and appeared almost glowing in the sunny woods of Denver, where she saw it on a walk.

“That's it. That's what was there.”

The therapist's eyes grow more concerned. “That's what you saw. There's a difference, Ariah, we talked about this. I know how hard it must be for you and how it can feel like your mind is failing you.”

“And I've been telling you, I know what I saw! I'm not insane,” Ariah cuts her off. Her voice picks up, yet it sounds more like desperation than actual rage at the woman in front of her.

“I never said a word about insanity, Ariah.” Ugh, why did she keep repeating her name? She knew it after eighteen years of existence, thank you very much.

The therapist continues: “You're a very promising young woman. You're doing great in school, and your enrollment with the Naturals will be helpful to you and the others, as well as the FBI. There are no signs of insanity in your behaviour. The things you think you see, they're just that - hallucinations. A way of coping, which is logical after everything you've been through.”

Everything she's been through. Ariah was going to take a giant leap and assume that had something to do with the way her grandmother had died in front of her on her fourth birthday. Her fourth birthday, not her grandma's.

Ariah blinked. When she looked down again, she didn't see her Adidas sneakers anymore. She saw pink ballet flats with purple ribbons. A hat with the inscription 'Happy 4th B-Day Ariah' on her head, almost toppling over as it was too big for her. Her brother attempting to blow out her candles. Her family, consisting of her parents, brother and grandparents, all singing an off-tune version of 'Happy Birthday To You'.

And then, suddenly, the world shifted. Well, it probably didn't really shift. In a way, she's aware that's just how it felt to her four-year-old mind. Multiple shots outside the window. Her mom pushed her to the ground, protecting her like a human shield. Her brother's piercing screams, asking what was happening. The dull sounds of the shots still ringing in her head.

And then it was over. It should've been over. They had survived.

Her mother pushed herself up against the floor, getting into a seating position. Ariah could breathe again, her brother falling against her, making a whimpering noise.

Another shot, sailing through the window. Broken glass all over the floor.

Then blood.

So much blood.

On the floor, splatters on the table, on her birthday cake. She turned her head. Blood on her grandma's cardigan.

And her face.

Then she had blacked out. It was the only time since then she hadn't seen or remembered everything that had happened to her. And oh, was she thankful for that.

In the here and now, a hand touches her upper arm. Her vision starts to clear again, a face swarming in front of her. Right, therapy at the Naturals' house.

Let's say this wasn't the first time she had been stuck in this memory. It always came at the worst times too.
Ariah remembered a time when she was taking the hardest math test of the year. She had always struggled with math, considering it was one of the only subjects that required a lot of insight, something she couldn't just print in her mind. She had studied throughout the prior night. While taking the test and staring at the numbers like they held the answers themselves, she had started to see red spots, which had eventually morphed into spatters of blood. She shudders at the memory.

“Did that trigger the memory?” Her therapist asks, as always amazing at reading the room and showing basic human decency. (Seriously, didn't they teach this kind of stuff in college psychology classes?)

Ariah watches as the woman makes a note in her notebook. She wonders how many of those pages are filled with her weekly rants. At least half, she would wager.

”I think we're done for today. You should get some rest, Ariah.” And there was her name again.

In her current state of mind, Ariah would take any escape out of this office, though, and she quickly nods.

They shake hands. Handshakes, always handshakes. Ariah hated it. Right hand, don't pinch too hard but don't give a weak hand either, maintain eye contact...

“See you next week!” Ariah manages to say as she rounds the corner. Then she bolts towards the bedroom she shares with Cassie and Sloane. Another day ruined. God, why can’t she just be a normal girl, stressing about her finals instead of seeing things that aren't there and reliving the worst moment of her life over and over again?

She sinks into the mattress, pulling the sheets over her head.

Another memory resurfaces. This time, she sees her father kneeling in front of her. She couldn’t have been older than nine at the time. They were on a walk in the park near their home in Los Angeles when she had suddenly seen a girl sitting on a bench. She had looked about her age at the time, with auburn hair that resembled the color of the fall leaves that lay on the ground and the few leaves that were still attached to the branches of the tree right next to her.

She was pretty. Very pretty actually. Her skin color looked a bit like Ariah’s, a deep golden brown, similar to the tone of the earth. Or like mud. Whichever one you prefer, really.

But from the moment Ariah had laid her eyes on the girl, she had instinctively known that something was off. The girl’s eyes were a dark green and the liquid seemed to swirl around in her irises. It was like there was a forest in her eyes.

Now, Ariah knew that however weird humans could be, their eyes normally didn’t look like a bunch of trees reincarnated. This girl must be a product of her imagination again, to use her mother’s phrasing. It had happened a lot of times ever since that one day her life had stopped and started anew.

She knew better now than to tell anyone about what she saw. But for some reason she still didn’t understand until today, that day she told her dad about the girl she’d seen.

“Daddy, a pretty girl is sitting on that bench.” Back then, she still felt like she could believe what her eyes told her.
“She has eyes like a forest. Actually, Daddy, she looks like she could be a tree herself. A human tree. Come say hi.”

She would never forget what her father had replied to that. He had said: “You have a gift, Ariah. Someday, you will help save the world. Grandma told me that before she passed away. She was like you in a way, seeing and remembering things, except she could also see parts of the future. Now, let’s leave the poor girl alone, shall we?”

Bam.

A door slammed somewhere downstairs, pulling her out of the memory. She still doesn’t know whether to believe the ‘gift’ thing or not. Her father was probably just trying to make her feel better.

Slam.

Another door, this time closer to Ariah. She peeked over the covers. Lia stood in the doorway.

“Hate to interrupt your daily session of self-pity, but the new arrival is here,” she said. Lia turned back around, not bothering to wait for a response.

Ariah dragged herself out of the bed. She might as well say hi, it’s not like this day could get much worse.

She thundered down the stairs, joining the rest of the group at the front door. Agent Briggs was standing in the doorway, together with a black-haired boy.

He has green eyes, with a hint of blue in them.

They swirl.

Like the sea.

God, not again.

Chapter Text

When Percy approached the house where the so-called Naturals lived, he was still none the wiser. The only information that he had gathered was that this Agent Briggs was a very fast driver. It made him wonder if he had ever been pulled over. Could FBI agents get pulled over when not on duty?

Percy shakes himself out of it and takes in the large house in front of him. Well, this was definitely a lot nicer than what he was used to. He counted four bedroom windows upstairs and if the width of the house was anything to go by, there was probably a big garden. Would they have a pool? They better have a pool. Having a big garden without a pool is like... Like an ocean without water.

That's not even a good comparison.
You again? I haven't even had time to deal with you yet, please.
Jackson, you're here for a reason. Would you just-

Nope, no more of that. Percy manages to shut the voice out and turns his full focus to Agent Briggs. Thank the gods he isn't saying anything. Percy follows the man to the dark green door, which swings open before they have time to knock.

In the doorway stands a girl with jet-black hair that falls in strands to the middle of her waist. She can't be much older than Percy. Her face is heavily make-upped and she holds herself with a kind of confidence that wouldn't look out of place in Olympus.

“Hello everyone, this is Percy Jackson. I'm sure you guys don't mind showing him around. I have to meet Agent Sterling at the office. Oh and Lia,” he aims a pointed look at the dark-haired girl, “be nice”. With those final words, Agent Briggs gets back into his car and Percy is left alone on the porch.

Now, Percy knows he has faced monsters and gods alike. So logically, a few mortals shouldn't be an issue. However, having to meet new peers reminds him of all the boarding schools he went to in his life. Let's just say he hasn't made a lot of pleasant memories there.

“So... Percy?” The confident girl tosses her hair over her right shoulder. “I'm Lia. Come on in,” she beckons. Behind her, another head pops up in the doorframe. “You're nervous and slightly intrigued. I'm Michael,” a guy with short brown hair smirks.

“Do you greet everyone by confronting them with their current state of mind?” Percy wonders out loud.

Lia sighs. “Don't mind Michael. He's our resident emotion reader. He's also,” she plants a kiss on his cheek, a gesture that seems purely performative to Percy, “my boyfriend”.

Right, this place was just like Camp Halfblood then. Percy steps over the threshold and is greeted by the sight of even more teenagers.

A tall girl to his right with light brown skin and curly hair that stands up around her face says: “Celine Delacroix. You have interesting bone structure.” What does that even mean?
“Thank you, I guess,” Percy answers, sounding unsure of himself.

Another girl with blond hair that looks almost white in the light and the bluest eyes he's ever seen shoots a curious glance his way.
“Did you know that there are ten common types of green eyes?” She asks while smiling.
“Um... No?” Percy says. Well, he clearly isn't the only weird person here, if their introductions are anything to go by.

“That's Sloane, our statistician. She's very fond of facts, as you might have noticed,” Lia introduces the other girl.
Sloane must be about his age too but she appears younger. She has an innocent look in her eyes that makes Percy warm up to her in an instant. “I'm Percy. Nice to meet you.”

“Your type is typically called sea green,” Sloane adds. Right, his eyes. Yeah, sea green covers the load, he thinks to himself.
“Is there a joke we're not getting? You look like someone who just watched the greatest comedy in existence,” the brunette boy says.
Dam, this guy's good. Percy hadn't even noticed his expression changing. Looks like he has to keep his guard up around these people.

“And over there we have Cassie, she's a profiler. Our other profiler Dean is currently working out in the shed, like always.”
Lia rolls her eyes. Percy turns his head to face a kind-looking redhead with fair skin.
“Hey, welcome,” she says. “I'm sure this must be much to take at once. We can be... a lot.”
“Don't worry about it. I'm used to much worse.”

Don't tell them too much.
Jeez, wasn't planning on it.
Swearing with other religions now? I'm offended.

Percy accidentally snorts out loud. Thankfully, no one seems to notice. His eyes fall on the last person present right now, the last girl in the admittedly way too narrow hallway for a group of this many people. She has dark brown skin and wears her dark brown hair in braids that fall in waves to her waist. Her eyes are brown, just a shade lighter than black. She reminds Percy of Annabeth in a way that doesn't make any sense. They don't even look alike, with Annabeth's blonde, curly hair and gray eyes. Their only similarity may be their height. Still, his brain associates them with one another. Weird.

“I'm Ariah, natural rememberer. I arrived here just over a week ago. So, if you ever need a break from their shenanigans, you know where to find me,” the girl speaks. Fuck, he was staring. “Hi!” Percy gives an awkward wave. He should just take Riptide and decapitate himself right here and now.

Well, that will certainly make things more complicated.
What will?
Jackson, you're so oblivious, sometimes I wonder how you're still alive.
What does that even mean?
Never mind.

Gods were infuriating and no one could ever change his view on that.

*

After Lia had shown him his room, which he shared with the creepy emotion reader and the Dean person who was still missing, they walked back to the living room, where the others are chilling on the couch.

Just as Percy sits down, a blonde guy walks in too. He gives Percy a curt nod and they exchange names. Dean certainly seems a lot more no-nonsense than everyone else here and Percy can appreciate that.

“I think we should give Percy a chance to get to know us better, what do you guys think of a game of Truth or Dare?” Lia asks, twirling her hair around her finger.
“She just wants to hear you out,” Dean says.
“Aw, come on Deano, it's a tradition!” Lia doesn't give up that easily.

“It's fine, I'll play.” Percy turns towards the rest of the group. A sigh echoes in his head, which Percy decides to ignore.

“I'll start.” Lia looks like the picture of innocence, but Percy isn't fooled.

“Percy, truth or dare?” She asks, looking straight at him. “Truth.” He holds her gaze, daring her to think of something good.

“Is Percy your full name? It's odd.”

“Well, thanks a lot. Yes, it is the name my mom gave me at birth.”

“Liar.”

Michael huffs. “Look, bro, I'd try to speak the truth around her. She's the deception specialist here.”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that?” Lia looks way too proud of herself. He only got here an hour ago and she was already getting on Percy's nerves. That was talent right there.

“Fine, my full name is Perseus. Even odder, don't you think?” He counters.

Lia seems to accept this answer and nods. Before he can decide who to pick, Sloane cuts in.

“Perseus is also the name of a half-god in Greek mythology. He was the son of the King of Gods, Zeus. He is famous for slaying the monster Medusa, the Gorgon.” She rambles on excitedly while tucking her bangs back behind her ears.

Percy feels himself go rigid. He wasn't expecting the topic to come up already.

“Are you Greek?” Cassie gives him a genuinely curious look.

“Only half," Percy mumbles. He needs a distraction, fast.

“Michael.” He lets the name hang in the air for a second. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Michael replies.

Percy swings his right leg over the side of the couch. “Alright. Who in this room scares you the most, and why?”

Michael looks around the room lazily. Then he says, expression never wavering: “You.”

Dean glares at Percy, eyes narrowed like he had already decided not to trust him either. How great!

“You walked in here like you've already survived every worst-case scenario I could throw at you. You're hard to read and you're still standing like whatever you went through doesn't even matter now. That scares me. I don't know what that means yet, but I don't trust things I can't read.”

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop in the room.

Percy blinks. “Uh... thanks?”

Michael smirks and the moment passes. “Don't mention it.”

What the actual fuck.

Again, rude. Like my name is right there to swear with. And frankly, I can see why you can be terrifying. To mortals, not to me of course.
Do I have to remind you of the fact that you still haven't introduced yourself?
Later.

He looks at Ariah's from the opposite side of their little circle. She has been quiet so far.

Their eyes meet.

Chapter Text

Their eyes meet.

Ariah immediately peels her eyes away, fixing her gaze on the beautiful sage green wallpaper. The boy in front of her was admittedly nice to look at, with his raven hair and tall and lean build, but his eyes... She did not need another reminder of her slipping, if even present, sanity.

”Ariah, you're up next!” Cassie's voice drags her back to reality. What should she choose?

”I'll take a dare,” she smiles back at Cassie. She and Sloane were the only people she had really clicked with this far. They were empathetic and passionate, which made Ariah feel comfortable in their presence. She was glad she shared a room with them and not Lia and Celine, who could be a lot from time to time.

”Alright new girl, dare. I dare you to guess Percy's biggest secret, a memory he does not want you to find out.”

Really, did it have to involve him? She sneaks a glance over at Percy, who smirks. “Go on, lay it on me.” He makes finger gun motions with his hands. Seriously, what's with this guy?

To her left, Michael shifts forward, appearing a bit too interested for Ariah's liking. She thinks back to his previous revelation. Percy does give off dangerous vibes, but for some reason, she doesn't feel threatened. Better not get too comfortable already, though.

”Let's see. He has the reflexes of a soldier, with the way he keeps flinching when someone suddenly moves. And then he reaches for his jean pocket. Which makes no sense, there's nothing in there...” She lets her voice trail off, adding to the mysterious vibe in the room. “Except for that pen,” she continues. A gasp from Lia. Mission accomplished.

Percy immediately pushes the top of the pen back into the depths of his pocket. Jeez, it's not like she was going to steal it or something...

”I noticed that too!” Cassie exclaims.

”Right!” Ariah points dramatically. “So, my best guess is that he's the son of a war criminal and a mermaid.”

Percy chokes on his water, which he had insisted he wanted. Even though they had plenty of soft drinks on the table. Which was also weird. She should make a list tonight about all the reasons why Percy Jackson might be even weirder than the rest of them.

Michael claps once, grinning. “This game is great for team bonding.”

Lia stifles a laugh. “A war criminal and a mermaid? Percy, is that anywhere close to the truth?”

They all turned their heads simultaneously toward Percy's side of the couch. He puts on the most blank expression Ariah had ever seen anyone wear.

”Yes, it is.”

Lia looks unsure of herself for the first time since Ariah had arrived. “You don't seem to be lying,” she says. “How do you do that?”

“What makes you think I'm lying?” Percy counters, looking smug.

What the helly?

Lia seems to be questioning her abilities while everyone else is still looking at Percy, confused. Ariah takes pity on them.

“Moving on!” She drags the last 'n' of the word.

"Sloane, truth or dare?"

*

An hour later, as it is slowly starting to get dark outside, the group is still playing. Celine and Sloane admitted to having been making out while the others were having a profiling session yesterday (shocking!) and Lia told everyone she had sneaked out approximately three times in the last week, without anyone else knowing (not so very shocking).

Now, it's Lia's turn to pick someone again. Ariah is pretty sure she will continue to interrogate Percy, the poor guy. Although she can't deny that she's also interested in what exactly it is that he's hiding...

“Percy, truth or dare?” Surprise, surprise!

Percy seems to be hesitating before he speaks up. “Truth.” That's a risky gamble (/tig ref) with Lia present.

“I'm sure we've all noticed that you have a few tattoos on your arms. Care to explain what they mean?” Lia asks. Okay, assert dominance.

Ariah had actually noticed them as soon as Percy stepped inside the house. Four letters: S, P, Q and R, paired with a trident and a line underneath the trident. On his other arm, a few stars surrounded a small wave adorned on his wrist.

Before Percy can answer, Sloane leans forward, looking like she has been waiting for the topic to come up.

“I have already calculated that there are over a hundred possible variations the letters S, P, Q and R could stand for, including super poor quest racer, shy people quiz razors and Senatus Populus Que Romanus. The latter is Latin for The Senate and People of Rome, a tattoo ancient Roman soldiers would get.”

Sloane shifts back against the wall, fading into the background again.

Michael, who had been intently studying Percy's face a second ago, speaks up: “He reacted to one of those, and unless he is a shy person who doesn't like his shaving instruments, I'd say it's probably the Roman one.”

“Well? It's your turn and you haven't even said anything yet, so I think you owe us an explanation.”
Lia looks at Percy expectantly.

The boy in question clears his throat and fixes his gaze on a spot on the wall. Apparently, he can also appreciate the gorgeous shade of green. Percy clearly does not want this secret out, which makes Ariah curious. What could the story behind it possibly entail?

“I've been to Rome once. You know, all roads lead there and all. Got this tattoo. Would not recommend.” His voice is carefully measured and he refuses to meet anyone's eyes. Something tells Ariah that that's probably the short version.

Lia raises her eyebrows at him, saying: “That's not the full truth, but I'll take it. Your turn again.”

“You, truth or dare?” Percy points directly at Ariah, grinning. Weird creepy guy is targeting her now, then.

“Dare.” Ariah makes her voice sound steady, not showing any sign of interest - or maybe slight anxiety.

Percy smirks that dangerous lop-sided smirk of his. “I'm going to regret this, aren't I?” Ariah half-jokes.

“You will,” Percy says cheerfully. “I dare you to give everyone a cliche movie character that matches their vibe.”

Ariah blinks. That wasn't so bad. She points at Cassie first. “You'd be the quiet girl who solves the murder before the detectives even show up.” Cassie smiles: “Well, that seems pretty accurate.”

Next up: Dean. “You're the brooding guy with a five-season redemption arc and a secret knife collection. Girls fall in love with your pain.” Dean just raises one eyebrow in response, while Michael is trying to muffle his laugh in a pillow.

“You...” Ariah pauses for emphasis while looking at Michael, “are the hot jock who wins over the main girl. That's it. That's the plot.” Michael chuckles, looking a bit impressed at the fact that she already knew all of them so well after just one week.

“Then we have Sloane who would be the quirky genius who figures out the final crucial detail. So pretty much what you are already,” Ariah continues.

“Lia is basically Regina George but if she majored in behavioral psychology and carried pepper spray everywhere, and Celine is the rich femme fatale who bribed the detective.”

“And finally, Percy,” she lingers on his name, “you're the guy who shows up halfway through the movie and completely changes the plot.”

“Like... are we talking plot twist villain?” Percy asks, teasing.

Ariah shakes her head slowly. “No. More like no one realizes you're the reason the plot exists until everything falls apart without you.”

The room quiets for a few moments.

Lia breaks the silence with a huff. “Okay, well that wasn't dramatic at all.”

Ariah just shrugs in response. She was only reflecting the vibes everyone gave her, she told herself. Nothing else was happening. No thinking about those weird eyes of his. Ah! No. Not again.

Chapter Text

After an intense evening of socializing with his peers, which was now officially on his top 10 list of worst life experiences (somewhere in between the sheer existence of Ares and facing Tartarus himself), Percy retreats to his room.

Now, the son of Poseidon is not used to sharing rooms anymore, except for Tyson's occasional visits to camp. Thankfully, Michael and Dean don't seem like the going to bed early kind of guys, so Percy has the room to himself for at least the coming hour. Not that Percy could or is going to sleep. He has a demon in his head to talk to. Well, a god. Same thing, really.

So how does this work, do I just summon you like this?
Already here.
Good. Well, actually, get the fuck out of here. But not before I ask you some questions.
Shoot.
Who are you?
Guess.
Scratch that, better question. Why me? As always.
Jackson, I hate to admit this, but you are just the most capable one of them all. Too powerful for your own good, at that. Don't know why they haven't killed you yet, especially Zeus with his grudges.
Well, they tried their best. And you do know that I will freestyle all of this now you've said that?
Don't you always do that and still make it out alive somehow?
Fair enough.
The kids convinced me not to let you go in all alone this time. That made me break the ancient rules! Sneaky bastards sneaking into my domain like that. Perseph-
Wait. Hades?
No idea what you're talking about.
Oh my gods, Nico and Hazel sneaked into the palace in the underworld. They're learning!
You're rubbing off on them. That's not a good thing, by the way.
Oh, I will give those two anything they want when I get back. They didn't even tell me first!
Right, back to more serious matters. The world is ending.
What's new?
Seriously, Perseus.
Please just call me Percy. Only monsters call me Perseus. And my mom when I'm in trouble.
Right, Percy. We don't know exactly what's happening yet, just that the mortal world has been shaken up by even more murders than normal. I sent you here because these mortals know more than others, they've been solving murders for a while now and are admittedly quite good in the field. I figured you should help them, being the Hero of Olympus and all. Thanatos told me he could sense divine involvement with these recent deaths. We don't know who is involved or how bad it is, just that this needs to be stopped.
Zeus?
The Olympians are clear on this one.
Even Ares?
Trust me, I don't like them either, but they have nothing to do with this.
Well, that sucks. I was looking forward to another spar.
Perseus.
Hades.
That's Lord Hades to you.
Pfff, who are you even kidding.
Well then, I'll leave you to it. Summon me at any time if you need me. Unless I'm having some quality time with my wife, in that case, it might take a little longer for me to arrive.
I did not need to know that. Hear ya later or whatever.

Percy feels Hades' presence leave his head, taking his cold, stinky aura of disappointment with him. Well, this wasn't ominous at all. Another distant family member threatening to take over the world. He wonders who it is this time. Maybe Nemesis? She was long overdue for a good revenge plot. He wouldn't even blame her if he was honest, the gods deserved it. This whole situation was just ridiculous enough for Percy to be sure that it was his real life and not Morpheus' work.

In the middle of his brainstorming session, of which Annabeth would be proud, Dean throws open the door. He seems to be checking the room for the presence of Michael, who's still not there. What was that guy up to? Then, Dean closes the door behind him and turns to face Percy. He remains standing, probably trying to look more intimidating or something. Percy stands up too and they have a silent stare down, reminding Percy of two boxers before they step into the ring. He forces the laugh that has been bubbling up inside of him down. What was this guy trying to achieve here? Dean tilts his head and finally speaks up.

"You're not normal."

"Thanks?"

"Neither are we. I don't know what you are. But I know danger when I see it. And I see it all over you." His tone is scarily calm, but Percy is not easily intimidated. Something about Dean reminded him of himself.

"Abusive parent?"

Dean appears to be showing the slightest hint of emotion, the most Percy has seen from him yet. Just as quickly, it's gone again, making space for the blank expression. Percy wonders if he has imagined it.

"What, are you a profiler too now?" Dean scowls.

"We don't have to talk about it. Just know that I get it."

Dean nods once. "Look, I don't know what your deal is. But if you're here for something else, if you want to hurt my family, I will stop you."

Percy feels a twitch deep inside of him. Dean cares about the other Naturals in the same way he loves the other demigods at camp, they are both protective of their people. Dean was dangerous in his own way, Percy noticed that he had definitely gone through a lot. He has a dark look in his eyes, implying that he wouldn't shy away from a bit of violence. However, the fact that he thought he could stop Percy was kind of endearing, no offense.

"If I wanted to hurt them, they'd already be dead."

Dean assesses him for another moment and seems to accept that answer. He sits down on his own bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Goodnight, Percy." What, was he his mom now?

"Night," Percy mumbles back. He wiggles around in the covers to face the door, which is the only way he can sleep nowadays. Annabeth always tells him it's because of his battle reflexes, but doesn't everyone have a favorite side to sleep on?

Thirty minutes pass and Percy is unable to sleep. Maybe that has something to do with having to save the world, again. Or it's just a full moon. Was it a full moon? If he was a hunter of Artemis, he would know. But he wasn't a girl so that wasn't possible. Although Artemis had taken a liking to him a few years ago. Maybe he could become an honorary hunter? It would be nice to see Thalia more often, he misses their spars.

Percy sighs to himself, he really needs to sleep. From the corner of his vision, he can see that Dean is still in the exact same upright position.

"Hey, Dean?"

The other boy hums.

"Why isn't the creepy emotion reader here? It's midnight."

Dean snorts. "Michael? Better not to ask what that guy is up to, it's probably no good. I bet he and Lia have taken off to a party somewhere. I wouldn't worry too much, they can handle themselves."

"Doesn't Agent Briggs make sure you guys don't run off?"

"If anyone would do that, it's Agent Sterling. You'll meet her tomorrow. She's terrifying, but the good kind. We also have a guardian, Judd Hawkins. Ex-marine, might seem stoic but has a heart of gold. He lives nearby and checks in with us regularly."

"Mhm. Seems odd, just letting a few eighteen-year-olds live on their own."

"Trust me, kid, we've all seen enough to be able to live alone. And I'm assuming you have too."

Percy doesn't answer, lost in thought again. Now he thought of it, it was a full moon a few days ago. Nico was going through the standard nerdy teenage boy's obsession with the Milky Way and had gifted him with his cosmic insight. Sure enough, Percy fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Ariah wakes up to the smell of burnt toast and someone yelling at the top of their voice: "Why is the new guy holding the kitchen knife like he is about to declare war on the toast?!" That means two things: one, Michael is awake (or hadn't even gone to sleep last night...) and two, Percy Jackson is being introduced to their idea of breakfast, which probably isn't worth any Michelin stars whatsoever.

She hadn't slept much, she never does. Memories she can push down during the day always come to visit her at night, when she is the most vulnerable in her dreams. She had a version of the memory again, but this time, sea-green eyes were watching her. She couldn't see them, but she was sure they were there. She shudders and gets up in one swift motion. No time like the present (not counting the images in her head that feel so very much like the present)!

When she enters the living room, all the others are already crowded around the table. Her eyes immediately go to the boy seated on the far end. Percy's wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie that looks suspiciously like one of Michael's, black with dark blue letters spelling out the name of UCLA. Ariah is pretty sure that neither of the two boys was some kind of teenage prodigy and went to university in Los Angeles, but hey, who was she to judge?

"Good morning! I slept for approximately seven hours and forty-three minutes this night, how about you?" Sloane smiles, tilting her head up to look Ariah in the eyes from her chair.

"I lost a staring contest with the ceiling for five hours. Approximately. Did you time that or does your brain just do that, by the way?" Ariah responds, also taking a seat.

"A bit of both! I started tracking my sleeping patterns at age ten. The margin of error is usually under two minutes unless I've had caffeine just before bed." She pauses, then adds brightly: "Also, nightmares statistically peak around 3:47 AM, so I try to be out before then."

Right, Ariah keeps forgetting she's not the only weird one here, being so used to that.

Meanwhile, Percy is still struggling with the toast, it being too hard to cut up into pieces. "I've fought monsters easier than this," he mutters under his breath.

"Really? What kind of monsters? Murderers like we deal with or wild animals or mafia bosses or..." Sloane trails off.

Cassie smiles, her face softening at how excited her fellow Natural looks. "I'm pretty sure that was a metaphor. Also, who gave you coffee before noon?"

Everyone simultaneously looks over at Michael, who clutches his chest in mock offense. "Not me, I swear!"

"That's true," Lia states. "It wasn't me either."

Ariah wouldn't have known whether to believe her or not if Percy wasn't shielding his face with his hands, probably trying to escape an emotion reading session. It is no use, though, because Sloane outs her coffee-gifting hero herself. She points at the boy, saying: "He offered me some, which statistically places him in the top three percent of decent humans I've interacted with. Unlike the rest of you."

Cassie laughs. "Okay, but that bar is on the floor and somehow I'm still tripping over it." Ariah thinks back to what she had already learned about the other Naturals. Sloane had lost her brother in a case they worked on the previous year, she really felt for the poor girl.

Michael speaks up, addressing Percy. "You're going to have to promise not to do that again. Like ever. You see, Sloane can get a bit over-excited when provided with caffeine."

"So basically... I accidentally unleashed a supercomputer with access to a murder database. Cool. Cool cool cool." Percy grins.

"I'm serious, swear that you won't do that again," Michael pushes.

"Okay, fine. I swear on the Styx that I won't be blondie's personal coffee supplier, or any other beverage containing caffeine at that," Percy blurts out.

"Hey, I call her blondie too!" Celine exclaims, hugging her girlfriend from the side.

Cute. That wasn't what had gotten Ariah's attention, though.

"You swear on the what?"

Percy meets her gaze, and for a second he looks like he just got caught shoplifting, before slipping the neutral mask back on his face.

"Styx is one of the rivers of the underworld in Greek mythology. The Greek gods swear by the water of the Styx as their most binding oath," Sloane helpfully provides.

"How do you know of that?" Dean is staring a hole into Percy's head, who seems completely unfazed.

"Inside joke at the summer camp I always go to with my cousins," Percy deadpans.

"Does that have anything to do with you being half-Greek or having the same name as a demigod from Greek mythology?" Lia asks, ready to analyze his answer and point out any lies.

But Percy just says: "Yes," and continues murdering his toast. Ariah files this information away for later. It's always good to have conversation starters with possible friends, that did not mean that she was particularly interested in him. At all.

*

Thirty minutes later, there is a knocking sound on the front door. Cassie moves to get it and comes back with Agent Sterling striding behind her.

"Good morning everyone!" She smiles at their little gathering and extends her hand towards Percy. "I'm sure the others have already told you about me, my name is Agent Sterling."

Percy accepts her hand and mumbles his name while looking down at the table. That was kind of cute. That guy does not have any reason to be self-conscious. She should really stop thinking about him.

Agent Sterling checks her watch. "Isn't it time for you guys to get to work?"

Everyone mumbles and nods while chairs are scraped across the ground. Ariah gets up and puts her dishes away. She wonders on what case they will work today. Probably a cold case, as they had just finished an active one and the agents also known as their guardians usually gave them time to train and work on their skill set in between important cases, according to Cassie.

Agent Sterling puts a hand on her right shoulder and pulls her away from the others, into the kitchen.

"Hey, Mrs Lamberts told me about your... vision yesterday. Don't be afraid to take some time to adjust, okay? We wouldn't want you unable to participate when things get important."

Ariah just nods. Agent Sterling is nice and really cares, but it's clear that she doesn't believe Ariah either. Not that she blames her, she doesn't even believe herself at this point. Life as a psycho is not as aesthetic as people online like to think.

"Good. Why don't you and Sloane take a look at these files? They're from a serial murder ten years ago, here in Denver." She gently pushes the papers into Ariah's hands, who nods once again and wanders off to find Sloane, who is chatting with Celine.

"Hey, mind if I steal your girlfriend for a second?" Ariah smiles and apologetically points to the files in her other hand.

Celine snorts: "She's not my property. Go ahead, I hope you have fun doing the special work as the agents' favorites."

"We're not-" Sloane starts, but Celine cuts her off. "I'm just kidding, blondie."

Sloane shakes her head, gets up, and follows her down into the basement, which Ariah knew was Sloane's favorite work spot.

They stumble down the flight of stairs and settle on the desk at the far end of the space, past all the different staged crime scene rooms.

Ariah drops the thick file on the table, making a loud 'thump' noise.

She sighs when something falls out from between the papers. Sloane gets down on her hands and feet to pick it up. When she's standing again, she has a strange, brittle feather in her right hand, holding it up into the light. The feather is oily black and almost glows.

"This isn't of any bird I recognize," Sloane mumbles, sitting back down.

They both stare at the feather in silence for a few moments, unable to tear their eyes away.

Then Ariah watches as it disintegrates into golden dust until there's nothing left in Sloane's hand.

She blinks.

Once.

Twice.

Nothing's there.

Just a trick of her mind again, Ariah tells herself.

Sloane looks up at her, eyes wide. "I saw that too."

Chapter Text

“So, another word for person of interest?” Dean looks at Percy expectantly, waiting for an answer. Dean, Michael, and him are sitting around the dinner table. The girls had gone off somewhere else, to work on a cold case.

“Eh... possible bad guy?”

Dean sighs but remains concentrated. “Okay, I thought you might've already had training or something. With the whole...,”
he waves in Percy's general direction, “I just got here and I already know what I'm doing demeanor.”

Percy snorts. First of all, he does not know what he's doing. “I mean, I usually just go with the flow.”

Michael smirks. “Now that's my kind of method.”

“But go ahead, teach me.” He probably needs some knowledge of this field of work to do... whatever the Hades he was supposed to be doing here.

“All right, we'll give you a quick run-through of the basics then.” Percy notices Dean's southern accent coming out. He files that away for later. Whenever that may be because he hasn't seen anything weird yet. Or, well, the out-of-this-world, Greek, godly kind of weird.

*

Thirty minutes later, Percy has learned that unsub means unknown subject and an MO is the way a killer does ... it. That term stands for modus operandi, which is Latin. Because gods' forbid he ever has a day without thinking of fucking Romans. He wonders what the transcript of a typical monster attack would look like. Probably something along the lines of ‘taunts, exchanges a few jabs, loses, disintegrates, does not show remorse’.

“Percy?”

He blinks. The once-empty table is now filled with pictures of dead bodies. Right, of course there are dead bodies on display on the dining table, why not?

“Sorry, what was the question?”

Michael huffs while Dean looks mostly irritated. Hey, it's not his fault that he has the attention span of a five-year-old kid. Blame his dad!

After a long moment of silent judging from all parties, Dean speaks up.

“Okay, so there are four victims on the table right now. You see them, right? One, two,” he points to the pictures one by one, “three-”

Percy cuts him off. “Yes, gods, I get it, get on with it.” Amid his annoyance, he forgets to cut out his unique way of swearing. He hopes the ’s’ wasn't too audible. He sneaks a glance at the two other boys, but they don't seem to notice.

“So the question is: which victim was murdered by a different killer? Remember, killers have different motives and MOs.”

Playing the odd one out with dead bodies. Why not? Percy carefully studies the images.

The first victim is a brown-haired girl, looking somewhere in her early twenties. She is lying face-down on a tiled floor, crusted blood accentuating a gaping stab wound on her back, where her dress is backless. The dress in question is dark green and looks expensive, maybe she had been partying or something. Besides that, there is not much to see about her surroundings.

He moves on to the top right picture. A middle-aged man wearing a dark suit is slumped in a brown chair. His suit jacket is partly unbuttoned, and he has one large gunshot wound in his abdomen. The man's eyes are still open, making Percy feel like he's staring into a dark void. Something about this picture makes him shudder. It's not like he hasn't seen death before or even caused it, so what is it? He doesn't know.

The woman on the bottom left has extremely long curly hair, fanning all over her body, which makes it hard to see what her cause of death is. After a few seconds, Percy notices a dark spot on her neck, in between the hairs. She had been strangled.

And lastly, a young short-haired man laying on his right side on the greenest grass he's ever seen. Percy can't see anything that indicates a cause of death. It is the only photo with a description, which reads: poisoned.

Percy looks up at Michael, who appears to be studying him instead of the pictures like he is some kind of tourist attraction. He raises an eyebrow and Michael smirks but doesn't revert his gaze. His description of creepy emotion reader definitely still stands.

Percy kind of wants to impress Michael and Dean by getting it right on his first try, so he tries to find a pattern. All four are different methods of killing, or MO as the fancy people here would say. They're all different ages and genders too, Percy can't make out a specific type of victim that the killer is interested in. For some reason, his eyes keep wandering back to the man whose eyes are on display. What is it that's bugging him? He scans the other pictures once more.

They're all facing away from the camera.

Suddenly, Percy is very sure of himself.
“That one,” he points to the man in the suit.

Michael and Dean look at each other for a quick second, probably debating something with their eyes. Very smooth. Not. Then Dean carefully asks: “And why do you think that?”

“He's the only one facing the camera, or where the killer would be. Maybe the murderer had a weird thing for watching the victims’ lives go out of their eyes, but the killer of the other three didn't?”

Once again, the trio falls quiet.

“So are you going to tell me the correct answer, or what?”

Michael clears his throat. “It's actually an unsolved cold case. However, our favorite FBI duo is fairly certain this one,” he points at the man on the grass, “was killed by someone other than the rest of the victims.”

Dean continues: “Poisoning is a very different MO than strangling, stabbing, or shooting. It lacks the visible brutality of the others. But...”

“But what?” Percy narrows his eyes, genuinely confused and still very much annoyed at their 'teaching'.

“Nothing that concerns you. I'm just gonna have to talk to Agent Briggs when he next visits us.”

Dean quickly walks off. Dam, he thought they were finally on speaking terms after last night. Guess not.

“I haven't seen him that flustered in a while, and I'm an emotion reader,” Michael smirks, before gathering up the photos and putting them in his jean pocket like he always walks around having crime scene photos at hand.

“See ya around?” Percy waves. What the Hades.

Hello Perseu- Percy.
I wasn't talking to you.
I know, I'm just checking in.
Don't you have more important places to split your essence to? People are dying right now, you know I can take care of myself.
Stop questioning my methods. Now, how's it going?
I think I made them question their abilities in profiling and previous life choices.
Good for you, congratulations. I meant; how is the supernatural mission going? You know, the one I specifically sent you here for?
No idea, man. Nothing weird has happened yet. And anyway, why can't I have one day of peace with my newly found... coworkers?
We both know that's an unattainable dream.
Ugh. You gods are no fun. See you around.

Just when he finishes talking to the main source of his troubles, Cassie walks into the room and plops down on the chair opposite him.

“Hey, how are you settling in?” She asks kindly.

“Um... fine? I mean, I managed to catch Michael and Dean off guard and something tells me that that doesn't happen very often.”

Cassie smiles softly. “They should really stop going so hard on the new people, I keep telling them but they won't listen.”

“It's okay and they're right anyway, I am insufferable.”

“So, do you like her?” Cassie raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Who?”

Cassie clears her throat. “Ariah,” she says with a tone that indicates that he should've come to that conclusion himself.

“No!” Percy exclaims, a little too defensive.

“Okay, okay, jeez, I'm just asking!” She gets up. “I'm going to check on Sloane and Ariah, we wouldn't want them overworking themselves.”

As Cassie walks away, Percy huffs to himself. Sure, Ariah seems nice, but having a crush on her? Of course not!

Yet.
Go to Tartarus.

Chapter Text

Ariah meets her gaze. “You what?”

“I saw it too,” Sloane repeats, sounding astonished.

“Surely it didn't just disappear. That's not possible, there's no way...” She gets back down on all fours, crawling under the table.

Meanwhile, Ariah is hyperventilating. Sloane couldn't be lying, could she? The girl didn't have it in her. But that meant...

“Sloane, it's not on the ground. It's really gone, trust me.”

“What do you mean?” Sloane lifts her head, maneuvering herself in a position that would've made Ariah laugh under better circumstances.

“You might want to sit down for this.” Her mouth feels dry. This is the part where people usually walk out of the room.

Sloane nods and sits back down in an almost robotic manner.

“But first, you have to promise me something, okay?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“You can not tell the others about what I'm going to tell you. Ever. Please, Sloane, they would just declare me crazy.”

“I'm part of the top 0.1% of people who can't keep secrets, but...” She bites her lip. “Okay, I promise.”

Ariah releases a breath she didn't realize had gotten stuck in her throat.

“Since I was little, I've been seeing things.”

“Yeah, that makes sense, it's your natural gift right?”

“That too. But sometimes it's weird things. Things that were never really there.”

Sloane tilts her head to the left as if her brain is literally processing the information. “What kind of things?”

“Like... For example, last week on that walk in the park with you and Michael, do you remember when I stayed back for a moment?”

Sloane nods. “Yeah, you heard a bunny in the bushes and wanted to take a picture.” Then her expression suddenly turns sad, brows frowning. “Wait, was that a lie?” She looks genuinely hurt and Ariah feels a little bad. It's not easy living with Lia, you never know whether to believe that girl or not. This was for Sloane's own goodwill, though.

“I'm sorry. But don't tell me you would have believed me if I told you the truth.”

“It's okay,” Sloane sniffs her nose once, “just tell me. I won't judge you. I know what that's like.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes, but they quickly refocus like nothing happened.

Ariah nods. There's no way out of this now. She quickly pushes the words, the secret she kept from the others since she arrived, out of her mouth. “I saw a pegasus. It was black, in case you were wondering.”

“Yes, I was. Wait what? A pegasus? You mean those winged divine stallions that occurred in...” Sloane suddenly stops talking, while Ariah's breath stills once again.

“Greek mythology,” They both exclaim at the exact same time. Silence falls upon the two girls. Sloane blinks multiple times in a row, Ariah imagines her brain is currently calculating, or whatever the hell natural statisticians do in their free time.

“So, you believe me just like that?” Ariah raises an eyebrow. That would certainly be easier than all the conversations she's had with therapists (plural), school counselors, certain family members, etc., etc.

Sloane nods. “It's weird. But I've seen weirder stuff. And the chances that a guy with a Greek name who swears on a river that was worshipped in Ancient Greece shows up here now? They're incredibly low. We're talking 0.0000-”

“Yes, I get it.”

“What else have you seen before?” Sloane asks curiously.

“Well, it can be weird animals like that pegasus, and then the people around me would just see a normal animal like a dog or something. And then the thing I saw before just morphs whatever they saw, like it was never there. But it started out with objects that just suddenly disintegrated or disappeared. I also saw a girl in a park once, but she didn't look like a real person. More like she was part of a tree or something.” Ariah snorts. “I know, that sounds ridiculous.”

Sloane shakes her head. “No, no, you're not ridiculous. The only thing that doesn't make sense though, is why would I see this feather now if you're usually the only one? I've never seen anything like that before either.”

“I don't know. I've never heard of anyone else with my... condition. Neither has my therapist, who does think I'm crazy by the way.”

“Don't worry. I understand you now.” Sloane awkwardly moves closer to the other girl, tightly wrapping her arms around her back, which makes Ariah smile. Ariah hugs her back, feeling Sloane relax a little.

“Thank you.” For a short moment, she doesn't let go, just living in the moment and enjoying the feeling of being accepted.

“That's okay,” Sloane smiles and quickly moves back, which makes Ariah snort. Sloane clearly really wasn't used to any display of friendly affection.

“So... you're going to tell the others now, right?” Ariah asks. She's really dreading that moment, she just knows that the way they perceive her will change completely. The other Naturals are not all as accepting as Sloane. Ariah doesn't need their pity, she just wants to be seen as a normal person for once. Or, you know, the most normal that can be while simultaneously being an eighteen-year-old Natural who solves murders for the FBI.

“No,” Sloane says decisively, which surprises Ariah.

“I want to figure out what this is first. How is it possible, what does Percy have to do with it... So many variables, so many possible outcomes!” She's actually starting to sound hyped up now. “We can't tell the others yet. I need to do my research. Like, right now!” She jumps up, but Ariah gently pulls the sleeve of her sweater, making her fall back into her seat.

“Okay, calm down here girl. You do your research, yes? I won't tell anyone a thing. You see, I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about myself, if what I see is real or not...”

Sloane nods, excitedly shuffling forward and backward in her chair. “Yes, yes, can I go now?”

Ariah smiles. “Sure, go ahead. I'll start studying these files for any abnormalities, don't worry about that.”

“I need to get my laptop!”

“Okay!” Ariah shakes her head, thinking to herself how Sloane can go from a quiet, chill demeanor to a completely crazy researching machine in a matter of seconds. She's starting to feel lighter already, it's good to have someone who absolutely believes in you, no matter what.

Thirty seconds later, the door to the basement opens and closes for the second time. Ariah hears footsteps going down the stairs.

“Are you back already?” She calls out.

“Huh?” Cassie steps into view.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Sloane. She was just getting her laptop. To work on the case.” She holds up the files for emphasis. These files. Not eye reports on Greek mythology sightings. That's ridiculous, what makes you think that?

“Oh, cool. So, you guys are getting started then?”

“Yup!” Ariah replies, maybe a bit too happily. But hey, god forbid a girl likes studying serial murder case files about - she takes a quick peek at the title page - the shooting of several middle-aged men in Denver!

Cassie gives her a thumbs up. “Great! Then I'll leave. See you at lunch?”

“Yes, lunch! See you!” She points at the other girl and waves.

Cassie walks off again, passing Sloane in the hallway, who's power walking while clutching her laptop like her life depends on it. That didn't go all too badly. Ariah has no idea how she and Sloane will keep this up for a longer time, though. She can still see the pieces of feather dissolve into dust every time she blinks. And they're both not the greatest liars in history... It's probably for the best if Sloane figures out what's going on quickly, the sooner, the better. In the meantime, she hopes she won't see any more otherworldly stuff. Just remembering every small singular detail about a specific moment is enough, thank you very much.

Chapter Text

Percy looks around, seeing only wide emptiness around him. The earth is split open and dry, revealing ugly jagged rocks all over the ground. There is no green in sight, only gray nothingness. Even the sun looks off, being too red, yet still burning on his skin. He touches his face, which feels wrong too. It doesn't feel like a part of him and more like an extension of the void around him. Five steps in front of him, there's a large, gaping black hole. Percy walks forward.

Don't go in there, the rational part of his brain tells him. But his legs won't listen. One. Two. He falls rather than jumps down. Then, more nothing. Just dark and falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

More falling. More dark.

It's familiar.

He can't see the end of the tunnel and when he looks back up the start is gone from his vision too. Still, he doesn't feel alone. There's a suffocating presence in the air all around him, making him choke on air, which even feels emptier than it normally is. Suddenly, green eyes stare right into his soul. He can't see them, but he feels them everywhere in the air around him.

“Perseusss,” a female voice whispers into his ears, coming from all different directions. That shouldn't be possible, Percy thinks, even in his dream state.

Another whisper. “Stop running. You'll only drag them down with you.”

The voice pauses for emphasis, their eyes feeling like they're closing in on him.

“Join me.”

Percy wakes when a large body of water crashes into his face.

“What the fuck?” He exclaims, immediately sitting up straight in his bed.

“You drool when you sleep.”

“So I've been told,” Percy mumbles, while pushing back the memory that resurfaces in that moment, of his first day at camp. Gods, he misses them. He wonders what the others are doing right now, and who is training the little ones. Probably Clarisse. The poor kids.

But this isn't camp. He's with his weird murder-solving peers, Percy reminds himself. He blinks a few times, trying to get the water out of his eyes without using his powers. Two faces come into focus, both hanging over him. The brunette boy on the right has an empty bowl in his hand, water still dripping out of it. The blonde on the left has a scowl on his face.

“Come on, we're late. Did that person also happen to tell you that you talk in your sleep? Who the hell are you joining, mate,” Dean is still scowling, but the corners of his lips are turned slightly upwards.

Michael snorts. “It was quite ominous, I can't lie. Dry your face, you look like you just drowned and came back to life. See you downstairs at breakfast.”

They both get up and walk away at the same time. “And whose fault is that?” Percy calls after them, but he gets no reply. Also, he literally can't drown. Except maybe in living mud. He shudders. That was not a fun experience.

Still muttering to himself, he gets up and flicks his hand, evaporating the water. Then he realises the others might get suspicious if there's no wet towel in the bathroom, so he takes a clean one from the pile and wets it under the tap.

He fucking hates demigod dreams. They feel real and terrifying, but don't make any kind of sense. Join who? Why does this person think that he will willingly join them after they just made him relive his descent into Tartarus? Make it make sense. And he isn't even running away from something, for once. He looks around the upstairs of the large house where the Naturals live. See, you creepy and probably godly being, he's pretty much stuck here. And drag who down with him? The Naturals? He barely knows these people, for crying out loud.

Percy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, taming the curly ends down a bit. Yesterday hadn't been all too bad. After the conversation with Cassie, who seems like an actual kind person, Michael and Dean came back and talked him through some more theory about serial killers. They all ate lunch together, and after that, the housekeeper Judd came to visit. Dean had been absolutely right, the man was a battle-trained marine but genuinely cared for the teenagers. He had introduced himself to Percy and had asked about the kidnapping, but seemed to know not to push Percy too hard on his answers. Judd probably thought it had been traumatic. His first quest was definitely not the worst thing he had gone through in his demigod life, but he could hardly explain that to the Naturals' caretaker.

*

As they finish breakfast, the doorbell rings once again.

“Do your supervisors make a deal out of getting here every day at exactly...,” he looks at his watch, “10 a.m.?” He looks at the group questioningly.

Celine shakes her head. “No, they're usually not here so often. They learned that we prefer to work by ourselves the hard way during previous cases.”

The others laugh and Percy gets a feeling that there's more to that story, but decides to leave it alone for now. Dean, who had gone to open the door, walks back into the room. Behind him are both Agent Briggs and Sterling.

“Must be serious if both mom and dad are here,” Michael whispers to Percy, who snorts. They do give off parent vibes, to be honest.

Agent Sterling clears her throat, wearing a stern expression on her face. “We have a case,” she announces.

Agent Briggs walks up to their table and lets a pack of papers fall right in the middle. Then, he takes a larger printed picture from his work bag and puts it on top of the other files. “Alexander Turner, nineteen-year-old male. Found in an outer area on the NYU campus by a passer-by who has no relation to the victim in any way. His father is the CEO of TechNest Sales and has some connections higher up in national security. This contact has asked us in particular to investigate, he apparently knows about the many cases this program has already solved.”

Percy looks at the people around him. They are well-known in this field, then. He wouldn't have guessed, as they look like any ordinary teen. Maybe that doesn't say much, though, considering you could encounter a demigod in the streets and not even look back twice. The others are already leaning forward, digging into the files and inspecting the crime scene photo.

“Good, you guys can get started then. We will have a quick debrief tomorrow,” Agent Briggs finishes.

“Dean,” Agent Sterling says, “I'm afraid we will have to postpone our talk about your comment about Percy and his... take on the Balker case until after this is solved.” His what now? He steals a glance at Dean, but the other boy is happily immersed in his reading.

Before he realizes, the agents have left the house again. Percy decides to take a look at the picture of the victim himself, looking over Sloane's shoulder.

A young man, not much older than him, is positioned in the middle of the frame. To his right, a patch of grass is barely visible, and on his left side is a dark brown wall. The man, Alexander, has short dark brown hair and is wearing a red shirt and blue jeans. Dark, crusted blood accentuates the large wound on his forehead.

“Cause of death: bludgeoning with rock,” Dean mumbles, eyes fixated on his file. He points to a different picture, this one smaller. “Traces of the victim’s blood were found on the rock, but the killer's fingerprints were wiped, interesting.”

“A possible organized killer, then,” Cassie states, to which Dean gives a curt nod. He and Michael explained the difference between organized and disorganized killers yesterday. Organized killers are more likely to plan their crimes in advance and cover their tracks, while disorganized killers mostly commit crimes on the spur of the moment, Percy remembers.

“I've got the information on the person who found the body here,” Ariah says.

Sloane extends her hand. “I'll look into both them and the killer online. They're probably active on social media if they're both college students.” She gets up, probably to get her laptop, but runs to the window facing the street instead.

“Oh my god, look at that dog! It's huge! I've never seen a breed like that before,” she exclaims.

Everyone looks up simultaneously, Percy included.

Oh.

Fuck, a hellhound. He knows he was long overdue for a monster attack, but does it really have to be now? In front of everyone? The others are not very intrigued, still focused on the new case. Except for Ariah. She is looking between Sloane and him, eyes wide and terrified. Either she has a fear of dogs, or...

Oh.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell did he go? It's been ten minutes already...” Celine says.

“Maybe he's just having a little fun,” Lia smirks.

“Ew. Never speak again, please," Dean mutters. "I'm trying to work here.”

Celine's right, Percy has been gone for a toilet break for a while now. Ariah herself only just regained consciousness after seeing the 'dog' that Sloane was so excited about. It had muscular thighs and was way bigger than any dog should ever be. Its teeth had been snarling, and the monster had looked right at Percy, who didn't look all too shocked. He had probably seen a regular dog then. His expression was kind of scarily calm, to be honest. Like he was planning something. His expression almost unsettled her more than the grin of the dog-like creature. Ariah wasn't too surprised at first, she had seen monsters like these before, after all. The weird thing is that Sloane didn't see it, though. It doesn't make any sense for her to see the feather and then not see this. She would have to have a talk with her later.

For now, the remaining seven Naturals are working on the Alexander Turner case. Sloane clears her throat. “Right, everyone. I found our victim on Instagram.” She angles her screen towards the others.

Alex
alexanderturner_
19 | Sadie❤️ | studying law at NYU

A few pictures are visible on his public profile. In one of them a brown-haired boy, Alexander himself, is posing with a few other young men, all wearing suits. The caption reads: 'formal evening with the boys'. Cassie grabs a pen and a notebook and starts to write something down.

“What are you writing?” Ariah asks curiously.

“It's important to know more about the victim's life and personality. In this case, our guy is in the centre of the picture, which could mean that he enjoys being the center of attention and is probably extroverted,” Cassie explains.

“Or he just had the longest arms and was holding the camera. Seriously, I don't get you profilers, working with every small detail you get,” Michael jokes.

Ariah ignores him, which she learned is the smartest thing to do with Michael, nods, and looks at the other posts on display. The last post from one week ago is a selfie of Alexander and a pretty blonde girl who Ariah assumes is his girlfriend Sadie. The oldest picture is one of his family. Once again Alexander is in the middle, both his parents' hands resting on his shoulders from behind. They look very proud of their son and are all wearing expensive-looking clothes.

Sloane splits the screen and shows them another Instagram account, this time of a user with the name Sophie Lucia.

Sophie Lucia
sophielucyy
22, bio student

“The account is private and I don't really see any reason to force it open for us. This girl is older, which means she's probably in a different year than Alexander and she studies a completely different thing,” Sloane says.

Ariah agrees, saying: “This document reads that there's no connection between them either. Sophie was apparently walking to her apartment after a night out when she passed the alley at 2 a.m. and found his body.”

Dean huffs. “This says he must have been killed somewhere between 10 and 11 p.m. That means that girl,” he gestures to Sloane's laptop, “couldn't have done it, unless she pulled a classical 'killer finds the body' move, which I doubt”.

“It's best not to assume anything in this early stage, though,” Lia says. “Even the best profilers can be wrong sometimes. Not saying you're the best profiler, of course.” She throws her hair over one shoulder, looking smug.

Cassie sighs. “I hate saying it, but Lia is right. Celine, could you look into a possible connection? We don't have anything that particularly relates to your gift right now anyway.” Lia's eyes widen in mock offense as Celine takes the file about the discovery of the body from Ariah.

“Fine,” Celine says. “But if I find out that the only link between them is that Alexander once bought a book about the human anatomy of the female body on eBay, I'm holding all of you accountable.” She points at everyone consecutively, grinning.

At that moment, the door to the living room opens and closes again. Percy steps back in, his hair looking slightly disheveled.

“Sorry. Number two,” he says, apologetically shrugging his shoulders. Lia smirks knowingly, which earns her an elbow in her stomach from Dean.

Ariah notices that the cap of Percy's favorite pen is sticking out of his pocket. He follows her gaze and quickly pushes it back. That's just because he sat down on the toilet, Ariah tells herself. It doesn't have to mean anything. Just because she sees weird Greek mythology stuff doesn't mean something weird happens on a toilet visit, stupid brain.

“Hey, where'd the dog go?” Sloane asks, pouting. “I wanted to inspect him from up close to see what breed he is.”

“Oh, he's gone,” Percy states, very matter-of-fact. He's met by seven weird looks coming from all over the room.

“How do you know that?” Ariah asks what everyone is thinking.

“I saw him on my way to the bathroom,” Percy deadpans.

“The bathroom is inside,” Sloane states the obvious, cocking her head.

“Yes... I saw the dog through the window in the hallway while he was walking away. I... gently waved him goodbye.” He makes a 'what can you do' gesture and sits down, while everyone still looks at him as if he has grown a second head.

“Anyway, how's it going?”

*

A few hours later, Percy has been updated on the current situation and they have not made a lot of progress. Celine reached a dead end in her research on the connection between the victim and the girl who found the body, and the others only really made a profile of the victim, who appears to be a rich boy whose parents pave the way for him to success in his life. The Naturals decide to take some time off, and Ariah retreats to her room with Sloane.

When they enter the room, Sloane slumps down onto her bed. “Are you also tired? I feel like we haven't worked on an active case like this in ages,” she says.

“No. Yes. I don't know.” Ariah sighs. “I need to talk to you.”

“Sure. What's up?” Sloane sits up straight, making eye contact with the other girl.

“That... dog you saw earlier. You really saw a normal dog?” Ariah is pretty sure Sloane's answer will be affirmative, her reaction seemed so real and excited, she doesn't think Sloane would be capable of faking it.

“Yes. I mean, it was bigger than an average dog. Even a dog that's considered very large regularly has a height around eighty centimeters, and this one definitely seemed bigger than that. But... Wait, did you see something like the feather again?”

“It..,” she shudders, reliving the memory, "wasn't a normal dog. It looked more like a wolf in a way. It was very muscular and its feet were like claws with incredibly long nails. It was snarling and its eyes were glowing a red-ish color.”

“Wow.” Sloane's eyes get a glint in them, she has an idea, and looks even excited. “I mean, I'm sorry you had to see that. But when I was looking at creatures known in Greek mythology yesterday, I also came across a few monsters.”

She grabs her laptop, which is now as good as glued to her hands, enters a code, and opens a locked app. She clicks a few buttons, too quickly for Ariah to follow, and a picture appears on the screen.

Ariah's breath stills. “Yes, that's exactly it. What is it?”

“A hellhound,” Sloane replies. “In Greek mythology, they were guardians of the Underworld. They were associated with death and the afterlife, and had powers such as outstanding speed and strength, and sometimes even the ability to vanish on the spot.”

“You know how in ancient times people were convinced the monsters were actually real and said they could even see them? Nowadays we consider them delusional. But what if they weren't?”

Chapter Text

That night, the Naturals didn't make a lot of progress on the case. When it's time to go to bed, Percy feels a bit unfulfilled. This is all a lot slower than, say, fighting monsters or trying to fight a way out of Tartarus. He walks upstairs together with the other boys and plummets onto his bed.

“Night,” Dean mumbles and turns his back on the others.

“Goodnight.” Percy smiles. Dean, the protector of the group, is always the first to wish them goodnight like a parent. It's kind of sweet, actually.

He can't go to sleep yet, though. He doesn't think the others noticed the hellhound he killed earlier today, but they definitely suspected that he is up to something. He needs to talk to his godly sender real quick.

Yo, Hades?
This is Lord Hades at your service.
Great. Just checking, you didn't send that hellhound, right?
Now why on earth would I send a hellhound to kill the demigod who is quite literally on a quest for me?
That's what I thought the first time too, cough cough helm of darkness cough cough.
Fine, I admit I might have made a few tiny wrong assumptions in the past. Not today, though.
Okay, so this hellhound either dislikes your authority, which same, can't blame him, or was ordered to attack me by someone else.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but I really hope it's the first one.
Glad we're on the same page. Point two: You didn't happen to think that it might be useful for me to know that that girl Ariah is clear-sighted?
Nah. You were gonna find out by yourself anyway. I didn't feel like annoying you even more.
Pfff, let me guess: Dean is a god in disguise, Lia's secretly a primordial, and Sloane is actually a monster that runs on caffeine?
Perseus.
I'm being so for real right now.

A desperate sigh echoes in his head, but the god doesn't actually seem angry.

Good night, Percy.

Well, that was... something. He turns around and falls asleep soon enough.

Percy opens his eyes to an impossibly still world. It doesn't feel calm or quiet in the good sense of the word, more like empty and endless. The sky above is dark gray, the horizon stretching further than he can see. He finds himself in a garden, with what must have once been imposing plants, but are now darkened leaves and branches leaking into the soil. This brings his attention to the ground, and his breath stills. Lying very still on the ground are people, or what is left of them. Their limbs are blackened and barely recognizable as human. Their faces are hollowed out, exposing black insides. Shocked, he takes a few steps away from the bodies, but all he sees are more remains.

”Calm, right?” Percy gets the feeling that something, or someone, is staring straight into his soul again.

”Don't you see that to acquire peace, you need to destroy something first?”

He gets the feeling that the voice is right behind him. Suddenly, he is being pushed forward, falling face-down on top of a prickly branch. He can't feel his face, his hands... Then, finally, darkness.

Percy wakes up and gasps for air, immediately sitting up. Wow, this person is not backing down. Is it really that hard to understand that, no, he would not join them? Find someone else, for gods' sake. Hire a recruiter, organize a manhunt, whatever.

A quick check assures him that both Dean and Michael are fast asleep. In Michael's case, this didn't need a visual check, considering the guy is snoring his ass off. Percy quietly trails out of the room and down the stairs. And now? He can't exactly leave the house, and what he really needs is the ocean. He practically hears Sloane's voice in his head: “The nearest ocean is approximately 1,000 miles away from Denver.” They really couldn't have situated the Naturals program in New York or something? Would've been closer to his mom too. Gods, he missed her. She is probably worried to death, and nobody at camp knows where he is either...

I'll let them know that you're alive. And there's a pool in the backyard.

Hades' voice leaves as quickly as it came, leaving Percy astonished. That was... thoughtful of him. He opens the back door and walks over to the pool, turning on automatic lights as he walks past them. He jumps in fully clothed, which never really bothers him as he can just dry himself after, and just sits on the bottom of the pool for a few minutes. The pool water is not the ocean, but it's the closest he can get at the moment. He plays with the water for a bit, making shapes and letting the water rain down on himself. Suddenly, he instinctively feels someone else nearing the pool. He swims up to the surface, where his eyes find those of his disruptor.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Ariah sits down on the ledge. She's wearing a bright orange shirt and purple pajama bottoms and has gotten rid of the clear glasses she had been wearing all day. “How'd you know I was here?”

Battled-hardened instinct after years of fighting monsters and ancient gods. “A troubled conscience?” He replies questioningly.

“Can't sleep either?” Ariah asks, dipping her lower legs into the water.

“I can't remember the last time I slept for eight hours at once,” Percy says, resting his arms on the ledge.

“Same.” That gets Percy's attention. “Why not?” He asks.

“It's fine. Just nightmares of something I'd rather not relive every night.”

“You can tell me. It helps, trust me.” And it might also distract him from his own problems.

“It's just... My grandmother died in front of me when I was four, at my birthday party.”

Percy meets her eyes. “I'm sorry. What happened to her?”

“She got shot. Through the window. Some guys sorting out drug business. Also happened to sort out the woman who taught me everything I should know in life. She was also a Natural rememberer.” It's suddenly very quiet. The only sound that can be heard is the rippling of the water near their bodies.

“And what keeps you up at night?” Ariah manages a smile, but simultaneously wipes her eyes.

“I've lost people whom I know I could and should have saved.” He thinks of Bianca, Zoe, Beckendorf, all the people who died during the during the battles. On some level, he is aware that he couldn't have done any more to help them. Still, all his mind screams is 'my fault, my fault'. He doesn't specify how and in what sense of the word he 'lost' them, and Ariah doesn't push. They sit in comfortable silence for a minute.

Ariah breaks the silence first. “So, I guess this is it then,” she says.

“This is what?”

“The part where I warn you of what is yet to come. It seems to be a tradition here. Apparently, Dean told Cassie to leave the program when she first arrived, then Cassie told Celine that she should reconsider joining, and I got the talk from Celine last week.”

This place couldn't possibly throw anything worse at him than what he's already gone through in his demigod life. “Hit me.”

“I don't remember exactly what she said. Something dangerous, something changes your life perception, yada yada.”

Percy snorts. “Well, that must have been a great talk.” He pushes off from the ledge and starts to float on his back. “The sky is really clear today.”

Ariah looks up. “That constellation looks a bit like a girl,” she points to the sky.

Great one, universe, Percy thinks to himself. “Yeah. See those few stars next to it? That's her bow.”

Ariah's mouth falls open. “I actually see it, no way!”

Percy can't help smiling a bit.

“I just can't stop thinking about today's case,” Ariah starts. “Something about that crime scene picture keeps bugging me. Like I've seen something like that before...”

“Get in. Water always helps to clear the brain fog.” Percy extends his hand towards the girl, who takes it and lets herself drop into the water fully clothed. She stays underwater for a while and Percy gives her some space. Suddenly, she gets back up and gasps for air.

“I can see it now,” she points in the general direction of her head.

“Woman, thirty, hit with rock by presumed rival drug dealer.” She opens her eyes again, wider now. “That was on the news a few weeks ago, before I came here. Crimes that have something to do with drugs have kind of stuck with me ever since- you know,” she trails off.

“Okay, I need to find that news article, like right now!” She attempts to get out of the pool, but Percy gently grabs her arm.

“Hey, that news article will still be there tomorrow. Contrary to popular belief, mortals do need sleep to think straight.”

“You say that like immortals exist too.”

“Who knows," Percy smiles. “I do know that you should get some more sleep before getting to work, though.”

“Says the guy who goes to the pool at 2 a.m.”

“Touché,” Percy smirks. “I promise I'll go back to sleep too. Happy?”

“Fine. But if I've forgotten everything by tomorrow, you'll be getting blamed.”

“Tell me, when have you ever forgotten anything?”

Ariah wisely doesn't reply. They ascend the stairs together. Back in his room, Percy waits until he doesn't hear any noises in the bathroom anymore and the light in the hallway is off. He dries himself off with a single hand movement. Then, he finally falls into a well-deserved, uninterrupted sleep.

Chapter Text

When Ariah wakes up after the best night rest she’s had in ages, her mind immediately goes to the happenings of last night. Before yesterday, it was already hard to remain unbothered by the new arrival, and the way Percy looked in a wet t-shirt is not helping. Neither is the way his eye color changed to the exact same shade as the pool water, while they seemed to be glowing in the dark. That was unsettling. He is unsettling. In two ways. It's probably for the best that she has more important things to think about right now. She gets up to refresh herself in the bathroom. Once there, she realises that Percy never took off his wet clothes after their little swim party. That's kinda gross. That fact is to be added to the ever-growing list of reasons why Percy Jackson is weird. And potentially dangerous, the rational voice in her head adds. She gets ready to go downstairs but runs into Michael in the hallway.

“Hey.” The other Natural winks at her. “So, you like him?”

“I... You can read my emotions, you tell me.”

“I think you do. And I know it's none of my business and I'm not the most trustworthy guy either, but I wouldn't fully trust him yet. There's something about him that's odd,” Michael says.

“I've noticed. He didn't even change out of his wet shirt after swimming in the pool.” Ariah makes a disgusted face.

“That's just ew. So you guys went swimming together?” He raises his eyebrows to an impressive height.

Ariah gives him a playful shove and they walk down the stairs together.

They get settled around the working table, and Ariah starts: “I realized something last night. Sloane, can I have your laptop for a sec?”

Sloane hands her the laptop and she types ‘murdered female drug dealer new york’ in the search bar. That gives her... way too many results to count. She filters on date and that finds her an online version of the news article she remembered from a few weeks ago. This one also mentions the woman's name.

“Nevaeh Brown, thirty years old,” Ariah reads out loud. She turns the laptop around. “Look, she was a drug dealer from the Bronx who was murdered three weeks ago by whom police presume to be a rival dealer.” She scrolls down the page. “Exact same MO. Bludgeoned with a rock on which no fingerprints could be found.”

“How'd you find that one?” Dean asks.

“I kept thinking that I'd seen something like the case before Percy helped me remember where I'd seen it.” Ariah makes eye contact with Percy, who smiles.

“I'm not taking any credit for that, it was all her.” He smiles back at her, and shit, no more thinking about him. Focus on the case.

“Right, if the love birds are finished up here, I'd like some more details about this case. Did anyone get arrested?” Lia asks.

“Nope. They never caught the killer,” Ariah replies.

“Interesting.” Lia drags the word out.

“So, is anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?” Celine asks, settling comfortably into her seat.

“The answer to that obviously relies on various factors, for one: what you are thinking,” Sloane says very seriously.

Celine laughs, pulling Sloane closer to her. “I'm thinking... If there are two, there might be more right?”

“True.” Cassie nods.

“I can make another database that can register similar cases like I did with the Vegas murders,” Sloane says, already taking her laptop back. “I'll just need to hack the FBI database real quick, and then-”

“Hold on. You're gonna hack the FBI? Real quick?” Percy sounds as baffled as he looks.

“Yeah man, she does that. Keep up,” Michael smirks.

Percy sighs and leans back in his chair. “Just when I thought this couldn't get any weirder.”

“It's going to take multiple hours for the program to send the results back to me, though,” Sloane says while fiercely typing and clicking on her laptop. “What do we do in the meantime?”

“We can always play another game of Truth or Dare. Maybe with some alcoholic beverage this time,” Lia smiles suggestively.

“No,” Dean states sternly, his eyes narrowing. “No Truth or Dare. And no drinking.”

“Ugh, you're no fun,” Lia pouts.

Ariah hasn't said anything in a while, typing away on her phone. “There's a memorial for Nevaeh here in the Denver city centre. Her brother lives here and wants to share her story. Why don’t we go there? Get some new information and all.”

“Great idea!” Percy exclaims, making a show out of getting up and putting his shoes on. When he looks back, he realizes none of the others followed his example. “Let's... go?” He says questioningly.

“Percy, we can't just-” Dean starts, but Percy cuts him off.

“Course we can,” he says confidently. When no one makes any preparation to get up, he adds: “Well, are y'all coming or am I going by myself?”

Michael gets up and points at Percy, saying: “I like you. I'm driving.” He takes the car keys from his pocket and throws them in the air, catching them just in time.

Dean shakes his head. “Gods above, what did we do to deserve a second Michael?”

They laugh, Percy the most of all. “I doubt the gods thought that part through,” he says under his breath. That statement makes Ariah feel the same uneasiness as before. Like they're all missing something obvious about Percy. But the feeling leaves as quickly as it came and Ariah decides to speak up. “Don't leave without me!” She jumps up.

“I have room for one more,” Michael says, scanning the room. Sloane is too immersed in her coding to reply, and Celine prefers to stay with her girlfriend. Dean still appears to be against this whole plan, muttering something about supervision. Cassie and Lia exchange a look. “I'll go,” Cassie says. “We wouldn't want the life of the party to leave the house, would we?”

The group leaves a slightly disappointed Lia behind as they walk towards Michael's car.

“Wow.” Percy whistles between his teeth. “How much did this one cost?”

“One owed favor from my deadbeat dad.”

Percy snorts as they settle into the car. Ariah and Cassie get in the back of the very expensive-looking car.

*

After Michael parks at the side of a road near the city centre, they walk to the memorial together. It is a few streets removed from the more popular shops. The last, smaller building in the street reads ‘Nevaeh Brown memorial’ and appears to be deserted. However, when Michael knocks on the door, it's answered within seconds. A middle-aged man with graying hair and deep eyebags stares at the teens for a second, before motioning them to come in.

“Welcome. I wasn't expecting any visitors today. The website only aired yesterday. How can I help you?”

“We're here to learn more about... I think she was your sister? We're part of a youth organization trying to prevent others from getting involved in drugs,” Cassie speaks up, sharing a look with the other Naturals present that tells them not to correct that statement.

The man nods and beckons for them to sit down at the lone table standing in the small room, getting some glasses of water from a room in the back, probably a kitchen. The rest of the room is empty, except for a few banners with what Ariah assumes is Nevaeh's face on them. There are also a few flyers scattered on the table, with information about the role of young people in drug business.

“My name is Asher Brown. You may have noticed that my sisters and I have a large age gap. I am twenty years older than her, which means we weren't really close during her childhood. We both didn't have the easiest time growing up. Our parents were barely ever home, resulting in us both living most of our lives on the street, twenty years apart. In my late teens, I started hanging out with the wrong friends. They talked me into being a supplier, telling me it was easy money. It just kept escalating, and when I was thirty, I decided that I didn't want to live like that for the rest of my life. When I got a chance to come clean, I took it with both hands.” Asher takes his time telling his story, sipping from his water. He is mostly focused on Cassie, who is listening with an empathetic look on her face.

“A few months ago, Nevaeh came to me. You know, she just had a baby a year ago. She wanted to finally come clean, but didn't know how to. I said I'd look into it, and the next day...,” he takes a deep breath, “she was gone”.

Chapter Text

Percy stares out of the window, already having finished his glass of water. The others are asking the man in front of them, Asher Brown, the brother of Neveah Brown, some questions about what kind of person she was and what he thinks happened to her. Well, actually it's mostly Cassie compassionately asking the questions, and the rest studying the man's face for any further hints. Percy's eyes instinctively go to the window again, which looks out on the narrow street they had just walked through. On the opposite side of the alley is a suspicious-looking shop without a name that could very well be a drug-selling business. How ironic.

As he tunes back in, he hears Cassie ask: “What happened to her baby?”

Asher takes a deep breath. “My sister, she... She would've wanted me to take care of her son. So I took Jayden in, and he lives with me in my apartment now. He's a real happy little guy, makes me smile every day. It's been tough for all of us, but I know this is what Nevaeh would've wanted.”

Ariah nods along and asks: “Do you have any other family who can support you and Jayden?”

The man shakes his head, expression grim. “My wife and I broke up ages ago.” Michael raises his eyebrows at the mention of the wife, but doesn't speak up. “I have a son, but he lives all the way in New York. I haven't been seeing him much lately.” Asher is starting to sound more sad every time he speaks now and Percy knows that they will have to leave and grant him some peace soon. And New York is big, he would know. Still, he can't help asking one more question.

“May I ask what he does there?”

“Sure, he's studying business at NYU. He just started his second year.”

This time, Michael's eyebrows reach an even more impressive height, which shouldn't be humanly possible. Percy doubts even the gods could do that, if he's being honest.

Ariah's wide eyes meet Percy's more composed, but still startled ones.

Cassie manages to keep her facial expressions in check and speaks up. “That's so interesting, I've been thinking about studying business too. Do you think I could get his phone number so I can ask him some questions?”

The man on the other side of the table sighs. “I'm afraid I don't have his phone number anymore. He's cut all ties. I don't blame him, after what happened between me and his mother.” Asher stares off into space for a second.

“Anyway, I suppose you could try to find him online. His name is Ryder.” He pauses again. “Ryder Wilson.”

*

After questioning Asher, the four Naturals decide to grab dinner in the city. As they walk to an Asian food bar downtown, they evaluate what they learned.

“To be honest, I was mostly surprised by the way her name is pronounced. Because what do you mean it's ‘Neeve’ and not ‘Nev-aye’?” Michael jokes, knowing that's definitely not the most important thing they got out of their talk today.

Percy just gives him a stomp in his stomach with his elbow, feeling that he has earned stomping privileges after Dean and Michael had given him an impromptu showering session yesterday. It earns him a side eye from the other boy, but Michael's face finally turns serious.

He addresses the rest of the group. “The moment he started talking about his wife, or ex-wife I guess, his face turned even more miserable than it was before. But there was also a hint of anger. And something hard to describe, but if I had to, I'd go with possessiveness?”

Percy agrees. “He's certainly protective of his son, the way he spoke about him. Something had gone on with the guy's mother.”

“Right,” Ariah nods, “because did you guys hear that too? His son doesn't have the same surname as him. And he seemed to be upset about that”.

As she finishes her sentence, Cassie's phone beeps. She takes it out of her bag and checks the notifications.

“Lia's still sulking about us leaving her behind. And Dean texted me privately, I quote: ‘Stay safe’,” Cassie says.

Michael snorts. “What does that guy expect us to do? Take the new two on a trip to go try out the drugs the deceased used ourselves?”

Cassie looks up from her phone. “You know he means well.”

“If you say so, Colorado.”

Percy spits his water out. “Colorado?” He asks, laughing. “I wonder where she's from.”

"Do you mind, Seus?" Michael asks, holding back a chuckle.

“Oh Hades nah,” Percy exclaims, forgetting all about his ‘no-swearing-with-godly-shit’ principle. He instantly gets up and dunks the remains of his drink on Michael's face, who splutters: “Not a fan of nicknames, I see”.

Ariah bursts into a laugh, while Cassie sneakily takes a picture of a wet-faced Michael, which earns her a thumbs-up from Percy.

“Do you really hate nicknames?” Ariah asks.

“Please just stick with Percy,” he sighs. This whole nickname banter is reminding him of the infamous ‘Kelp-Head’ and ‘Seaweed Brain’. Those were only slightly higher on the list than this newly found one.

“Perce?” Ariah tries, as Michael frantically wipes his face with a napkin.

“Yeah?” Percy answers before realizing that she wasn't actually calling for him.

Ariah smirks, looking up at him. “Perce it is then.”

They hold eye contact for a second too long, before Cassie breaks the silence. “Right, guys, it's getting dark. We should head back to the car.”

*

They walk back a different way than they came, not having to stop at the memorial now. Ariah and Cassie are in the front, with Michael and Percy following right behind them. The streets here are even narrower and deserted than in the city centre.

“Are you sure that we're going the right way?” Cassie asks Michael, but Michael seems confident in their route, holding his phone with Google Maps open.

“Yep. We're almost there now.”

They round a corner to find another small alley in front of them. Only this one isn't empty. Near the end, a group of young men maybe a little older than them were talking loudly, empty cans on the ground around them.

As they are about to pass the group, one of the guys turns around to face the girls. He has dark blond hair that almost falls to his shoulders and is wearing a tracksuit. His eyes scan Cassie's body, before settling on a point just below her neck.

“Does a pretty girl like you have a boyfriend?” He asks, slurring the words a little.

“I do,” Cassie replies coolly, trying to side-step him.

The guy looks in the direction of Michael and Percy, but Cassie quickly makes clear that neither of them is the boyfriend in question.

“So, you're a bit of a wild one, huh?” The blonde slowly inches closer to her, blocking the way out of the alley. One of the others, a tall guy with a buzz cut, looks Ariah up and down. He nudges the dark-skinned man standing next to him, saying: “Something for you? I don't wanna ruin my bloodline, but she's bad”.

Percy's blood is starting to boil. Meanwhile, Michael is already striding forward, pushing the shorter blonde away from Cassie, making the two of them tumble into the rest of the group. The man is holding Cassie's purse, Percy realizes.

Ariah quickly turns away from the group, grabbing Cassie's arm and making sure that her friend is okay. Percy gently pushes them behind him and walks closer.

Percy, don't kill the mortals.
But they deserve it.
Don’t. The underworld is full enough as it is.
Fine.

Injuring it is then. Michael is starting to get overwhelmed with all five of the guys facing him now. One manages to punch him right on his nose, making him stumble into Percy, who quickly nudges him back the other way too.

“What are you doing? Surely you're not gonna 5 v 1-” Percy puts a hand over his mouth, avoiding the other guy's bloody nose. “Don't worry about me. Stay with the girls.”

“Percy, wait!” Michael tries again, but Percy tunes him out and kicks the first guy in the stomach, making him fall right onto another, which sends them crashing to the ground together. He looks down to find them both unconscious. How did he even… They were probably the most drunk out of the bunch.

He feels the air move behind him and ducks just in time as the dark-skinned one who was nudged by Mr Buzzcut takes a swing at him. Percy feels like it would’ve missed him even if he had stayed where he was before and raises an eyebrow. The man proceeds to frantically swing, hit, and kick Percy with questionable technique. Percy dodges the blows with ease and pushes the other into the wall when he sees an opening. The man’s body makes an impressively loud banging noise as it hits the stone, sliding down immediately after. It is completely dark by now and it starts to rain, big drops splash down on the people gathered in the alley. Percy remembers just in time to let himself get wet and feels the energy boost the water gives him.

Short Blonde advances on him with surprising speed, but as soon as they make contact Percy quickly turns the both of them around, forcing the guy’s back against the wall. His eyes go down to Cassie’s purse which he’s still holding with one hand, and Percy grabs the front of Blondie’s T-shirt, lifting him up to his eye-level and pushing one arm on his throat. Just a little push. He cocks his head. “Drop it, would you?”

Tall Buzzcut seems to have gained some sense of urgency as he attempts to pull Percy of his friend. Percy grabs his right arm with his free hand, making him stop in his tracks, and trips him as a temporary solution. He turns back to his prey, whose eyes widen, yet he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he can’t physically say anything, Percy realizes. Good. Percy makes the rain come down a tad harder on his face than on their surroundings, forcing him to blink rapidly.

“Drop it or I’ll make you.” The blonde finally lets the purse fall to the ground. Percy knocks him out with one clean punch to the head and throws Cassie’s bag back to its rightful owner, who catches it gracefully just as Tall Buzzcut gets back up with his hands raised in front of him.

“Look, you don’t know us, we don’t know you. You got what you came for. Now let’s part ways, yeah?” His voice holds something close to fear.

“I would’ve,” Percy breathes. “But you said something which I’m sure you’ll remember. If you live, that is.”

The other man seems to accept his fate and gets ready for a fight, spitting on the ground. Percy remembers how his mom always used to talk about how gross and disrespectful she found people who did that, acting like the world was theirs to spit on. He feels something in him snap and redirects the spit to the man’s face, where it splashes on his hairless head and gets washed away by the rain. Buzzcut’s eyes widen in disbelief as he stops in his tracks.

“Who are you?”

Percy inches closer, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “They call me the Destroyer.” He pauses. “Don’t cross me or any of my friends again. Next time I’ll destroy your bloodline,” he smiles.

Chapter Text

On some level, Ariah is aware that she's standing in a small alley in Denver with the Naturals, and that the guys on the ground are just some annoying assholes who happened to stand in their way. Well, in Percy's way. But as she looks at the body nearest to her, all she can see are her grandmother's gray curls sticking up around her head. Her eyes are slowly closing, the look in her eyes already far away from earth and the living room where they were celebrating her fourth birthday just a second ago. Pink ballet flats, an 'It's my fourth!' birthday hat on a head that feels too small.

Then comes the blood. The blood always comes last. Blood on grandma's cardigan, blood on her own hands, blood on her brother's hoodie with a fabric game controller stitched to the front.

“Ariah, come back to us.” Percy's face swarms in front of her, and suddenly the world comes back into focus. She's still holding Cassie's hand, which she quickly drops, and her grandma turns back into the short man with the blond hair who had harassed Cassie before. There is surprisingly little blood on his body, and he's not actually wearing a cardigan. Shocker.

In the split-second Percy holds her gaze, trying to make out if she's okay, Ariah could swear that his eyes are a darker shade of green than before, matching the way the sheer light from the single streetlight in the alley reflects on the raindrops. The rain is slowly dying down, like its only purpose was to add spice to the scene that had just played before their eyes. Just as quickly, Percy averts his gaze and the feeling is gone. It was probably just the lack of light making his eyes look like that, she tells herself.

“None of those were killing blows. They'll be fine. Eventually,” Percy says. She wasn't particularly worried about the physical state of the assholes, but nods anyway. The taller guy with a buzzcut whimpers and attempts to raise his head, as if to confirm Percy's statement.

“Well, that's just great. But I have a few more questions,” Michael deadpans, wiping the remains of his bloody nose away with his sleeve.

“You can interview me in the car, we should go now,” Percy replies, turning around and expecting the others to follow suit. He expertly manoeuvres through the bodies that are still slumped on the ground. Ariah suddenly gets the feeling that he has done that before and snorts to herself. Really, brain?

“Let's go,” Cassie nudges her towards the bodies. Ariah lets the rest of the group pass her and walks behind them. After a quick check to see if no one's looking, she can't restrain herself any longer and kicks Mr Buzzcut in the head, making him slump back and abandon his attempt to get up. She was never one for violence, but that was oddly satisfying. It's what he deserves for thinking that her skin color and appearance are the most interesting things about her. She happens to see monsters that come straight out of Greek myths, thank you very much.

Apparently, she wasn't quite discreet enough, because Percy looks back and gives her a quick thumbs-up before beckoning her to walk a bit closer. Does that guy have a built-in motion sensor or something?

They manage to reach the car without any further trouble. The parking is abandoned when Michael performs an impressive three-point turn and pulls them back on the road.

“Question number one. Why?” Ariah can't see his face from her seat right behind Michael, but she can practically hear the raise of his eyebrows.

“Why what?” Percy turns out to be a good eyebrow-raise opponent.

“Why,” Michael drags the word, “did you risk your life to knock out some guys who were bothering us?”

Percy is quiet for a moment. His voice is lower than before as he speaks in a fast manner: “Because no one hurts my friends and gets away with it”. After a moment of silence, he adds: “And my life wasn't really at risk if you hadn't noticed”.

“Friends, huh?” Ariah says, making Cassie smile.

“Close acquaintances,” Percy mumbles, but Ariah won't have it. “You said friends!”

Percy groans and lets himself slide down the soft car seat, obscuring his face from their view.

Michael announces: “Ladies and gentlemen, question number two. Where did you learn how to fight like that?”

Percy sighs from his position, his lower body on the floor. “Camp.”

“The summer camp you went to with your cousins?” Cassie asks curiously.

“Yeah. You could say it's a kinda... martial arts camp?”

“And why is that a question?” Michael scoffs, but Percy either doesn't hear him or pretends he doesn't. Michael speeds back to their house and immediately opens his car door and jumps out. “Guys, it's late. Lia's gonna be so mad about all the fun she apparently missed...”

“Oh, are you gonna get punished?” Percy smirks, which earns him a shove towards the front door. It must've been a friendly shove though, because Percy barely moves and looks like he didn't even feel it.

As they enter the living room, the other Naturals are still seated around the table.

“Still under the living, I see,” Dean gets up as soon as he sees them. “You should go to bed, tell us what you learned tomorrow.”

“So should you,” Cassie says softly. She walks past Ariah to touch her boyfriend's hand, who freezes when he sees Michael's condition.

“I shouldn't even ask, but what the hell happened to you?” He sounds unmoved, but Ariah can hear the concerned undertone in his voice. Michael just grins in reply.

Percy gently tugs on her sleeve from behind her and Ariah turns around to face him.

“I'm sorry about the, eh, memory I triggered. I shouldn't have, I-,” Percy starts, but Ariah cuts him off.

“Don't. You didn't do anything wrong, you saved us. I don't know why I can't keep my emotions in check, I mean, you all seem to be doing just fine and you've seen things just as bad or even worse than me.”

“That's not a bad thing, you know.” Percy gets a faraway look in his eyes, but shakes himself out of it. “You can always come to me if you wanna talk about it. Or if you need a distraction. For the record, I excel at distractions.”

Ariah blinks back a single tear that is desperately trying to escape her eye. No one has ever cared for her like that. Because no one ever understood, a voice in her head adds. Thinking back to their conversation in the pool, she looks up and gives Percy a half-hearted smile. “You can always come to me too.”

Meanwhile, Michael starts walking towards the stairs, but Lia's voice stops him in his tracks.

“Judd came with the groceries. Your father called.”

“Really? What's on his mind?” Michael's face remains scarily impassive, making it feel like they're talking about a normal father who hasn't seen his son in a while. Nothing betrays that the same guy had just talked about his father being abusive.

“He wants to see his sweet boy.” Lia's dull tone effortlessly matches Michael's. “Or an additional bag of money from the FBI. Both are acceptable, apparently. You sure you don't want to see him? Get closure and all that cliché crap.”

“Oh, I don't know. Where did closure get you, Sadie?”

Ariah has no idea what that's supposed to mean, but the nervous energy in the air is palpable. Cassie suddenly grabs her forearm, nails digging into her skin slightly painfully.

Finally, Lia snaps. “Sadie is dead!” Lia and Michael talk about 'Sadie' like she was an actual person, but Ariah is starting to see that Sadie is who Lia was in the past. She wouldn't put it past the other girl to have some kind of alter ego.

“You know, this just keeps getting worse,” Michael says, still calm, but clearly holding his true emotions back. He points at Celine. “Somehow, we keep forgetting that he's,” he avoids using his father's name, “her father too.” Celine looks hurt, but Michael moves on without giving anyone time to interfere.

“Besides that, Sloane is hiding something from us. Can you believe that? Sloane Tavish is hiding something from us, and it has something to do with her.” Michael points straight at Ariah, and she unwillingly takes a few steps back, almost walking into Percy. “Who I've heard is insane, by the way.” That would've stung a few days ago, but she feels like a whole different person now than the one she was when she left her latest therapy session.

Michael is really starting to get into his stride as his gaze slides past her to Percy. “And you-”

Ariah doesn't even feel either of them move, but the next thing she knows Percy is pinning Michael to the wall. Wall-pinning really appears to be his thing.

Percy immediately lets go of the other boy again, leaving them in a weird stare-down position that would've been funny under different circumstances. “I know you want a fight, but I won't give it to you,” Percy says. Then, he drops his voice and says something else, meant for only Michael to hear. But Ariah, who is standing the closest to the duo, picks up something that sounds like 'Can't make me hit you'. The words mean nothing to her, but clearly do to Michael, who drops his impenetrable face mask for the first time of the night and remains silent.

“Now, I’ve heard that a certain someone,” Percy cocks his head towards Dean, “has boxing equipment in the shed”.

Chapter Text

Percy's mind is a living mess as he wakes up completely disoriented after a dream he no longer remembers. The alarm clock on his headstand reads 3:30 a.m. He sighs, unable to return to sleep, and turns around. Dean is fast asleep and looks quite adorable all curled up into his sheets, but Michael's bed is empty. Percy carefully gets up and walks out of their bedroom on his tiptoes. The house is completely quiet, much different from during the day, when eight teenagers are out and about. He descends the stairs, skipping the third one from the bottom which creaks, and makes his way through the chilly night to the shed. Here, there are no harpies to stop him from going outside after curfew. He almost misses them. Almost. He does miss sneaking out at night to get back on the Stolls, though.

The garden is illuminated by the yellow lights that turn on as he walks past them. A soft glow is coming from the sole window in the shed, indicating that someone is inside. Percy gently pushes the door inward and is greeted with the sight of a punching bag screaming for mercy, which Michael's fists won't grant it. The boy in question is wiping his sweaty hair away from his forehead before turning back to abusing the boxing equipment.

“Have you slept?” Percy announces his presence, stepping into view. Michael visibly startles and throws a badly aimed punch into Percy's general direction, which he dodges. “It's just me, man,” he says, putting his hands up.

Michael takes a deep breath. “What are you doing here?” He asks, slightly annoyed.

“Cosplaying as Dora the Explorer. Now answer my question.” Percy lazily leans against the wall but almost falls over when he realizes how unstable said wall is. A quick glance thrown Michael's way assures him that his chalance has thankfully gone unnoticed.

Michael doesn't respond and goes back to methodically punching the bag, his boxing gloves making loud ‘thump’ noises in the mostly empty shed, except for some lifting equipment.

“I'll take that as a no,” Percy mumbles to himself. “How long have you been here?”

“Like six, seven hours.” Michael pauses his assault for a moment to meet Percy's eyes, who looks at him weirdly, not understanding the reference at all. Michael shakes his head. “Never mind. Fight me,” he demands, his voice suddenly intense.

“No thanks, I'm against child abuse. Even when the child asks for it.”

Michael snorts. “Oh right, I forgot you aren't my dad for a second. Well then, what does a guy have to do to earn a spar with the great Percy Jackson? Do I have to get on my knees and beg?”

“Please don't. Although that would make for good blackmail material,” Percy deadpans.

Michael decides to change tactics. “Please.” He doesn't make the word sound like a beg or a plea, but allows a trace of vulnerability to show on his face, trying to make Percy change his mind.

“Fine. Just don't whine when you get hurt. And we're talking. I won't allow you to keep everything inside, it's not healthy.” Percy knows this feeling all too well. Sometimes all you need is an outlet to fill the numbness in your head. Really, he gets it. He just wishes he didn't.

“If I get hurt, you mean,” Michael says, expertly ignoring the rest of Percy's statement.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Percy replies, grabbing some gloves for himself from a nearby bench. They push the other equipment to the sides of the room in silence, forming an open circular space in the middle of the shed.

Percy allows Michael to make the first move, adjusting to the way the other man moves. They continue fighting in silence, before Michael suddenly speaks, his voice a little rough.

“I hate Lia.”

“Why do I have a feeling those words have been uttered before?” Percy remarks, already meeting the other's leg with his own to dodge a low kick before Michael even has time to move.

“The way you shift your weight before you move makes it too predictable,” he comments, taking a step back to give Michael, who hums in response, time to adjust. They return to the spar, neither of them speaking once more. Percy would be lying if he'd say that he isn't enjoying this. He much prefers swordfighting with someone he can go all out with, but a fight is a fight and he's grown restless after days of sitting inside, feeling like they weren't making any progress. Not on the case, not on his personal... situation. He's just not used to this, being unable to do much more than research, and feels like a sitting duck in a place too far from home. He assesses his opponent once more, and for a fleeting second, he imagines what Michael would look like with a weapon in his hands. A shorter blade for close combat would be suitable, he thinks to himself. Michael's voice drags him back to the present.

“She hates me too. That's why we work. No one else could ever put up with either of us,” he says, ducking under one of Percy's punches. “Stop holding back, you're not slick. I literally just saw you fight those five guys a few hours ago,” he adds.

Percy raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a death wish?”

Michael scoffs, blocking a series of quick hits from his opponent. “Fine. Then stop holding back... a little bit.”

Percy is not letting him say that twice and lets a small amount of his frustration leak into a rapid combination of leg and arm movements, driving Michael on the defensive.

“I take that back.”

*

After a few more minutes, the two boys put their gloves away. Michael lets himself fall on the ground, exhausted, and Percy sits down on the workout bench.

“So, Seus, what is your take on this dilemma of mine?” Michael asks, turning the corners of his mouth upwards.

“Stop that,” Percy says lowly.

“Stop what? You must really hate that nickname,” Michael tries and fails to redirect the topic.

Percy fixes him with a pointed look, indicating that Michael should know very well what he's talking about. “Stop masking your emotions. That's only allowed when I do it. Just because you can read those of others doesn't mean that yours are unimportant or unwanted.” He gestures to Michael's general Michael-ness.

Michael sighs, dropping his smirk.

“It's your decision. I'm sure we'll all support you, no matter what you choose. Although Lia might need some more time to process,”Percy smiles. “But you two will work it out, eventually. From what I've gathered so far, you guys are stubborn like that.”

“Great assessment. Are you sure you're not a profiler?” Michael is suddenly occupied with inspecting the wooden tiles on the floor from up close, but Percy can tell that he's touched.

“For what it's worth though, I'd say he's not worth your time. And it's not your money anyway.”

Michael nods, seemingly lost in thought. “Is this the part where you tell me to go to sleep?”

“I'm not Dean. I advise you to go to sleep. Myself, I'm strongly against following advice from mysterious people I've only known for a few days, but that's your call.”

They put everything back in place, close the shed, and walk back to the house. Michael stops Percy before they enter their bedroom.

“Thank you, Percy. You're a good friend.” Michael basically mumbles that last part, but it is just loud enough for Percy to hear.

“Of course.” Friends, huh. That never ends well with him. Percy plummets down on his bed, when suddenly a voice he's been trying to forget infiltrates his thoughts again.

You'll drag them down with you.