Chapter Text
"Step into the sun. Fly with me, my Icarus. There is nowhere to go except up."
"Why fly to the Heavens when we are happy and safe here?” asked Icarus.
"My passion leaves no room for 'safe,' my love, because with you, I'd rather burn up in hot, fiery heat."
There, he stood before his lover. The worn tunic opened his back to tropical sunny air. His turquoise eyes danced with dashing amusement as he watched Icarus; many emotions battled on his lover’s face.
Percy could barely contain the quirk of his lips; it was contagious as a slow mischievous smile came over Icarus. The scar on his lip made it look ever sinister. Suddenly, Icarus grabbed him by the hand, tangling Percy’s weathered fingers with his own. His other arm trailed up his back, slowly, as he traced deliciously familiar terrain, memorizing Percy’s sunkissed skin with touch alone. His fingers brushed the feathery wings attached to Percy and Icarus gave his hand a squeeze.
“Fly with me,” Icarus whispered against his cheek as they fell, tumbling out of the tower in a blur of feather and flesh.
Percy Jackson gasped and bolted upright. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing. A moment ago he could've sworn he was falling...
Was that a dream? It was far too vivid, and his actions weren’t his own. It felt like a flashback.
Panic seized his mind as tunnel vision settled in. The room was compressing and he felt his breaths come in quicker successions. Uncontrollable fear pressed down like the weight of the sky. It was like he’d taken Atlas’ punishment to hold up the heavens all over again.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but it just made the darkness more absolute, driving home hot, rabid terror. The ground was shaking, or maybe it was the blood pressure pounding in his ear.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck… not again.’ He thought to himself, clutching the sheets to prevent his nails from drawing blood.
Percy forced his eyes open, straining against a dimness that was pressed in by deafening silence. He was alone in an empty room with silhouettes of four empty cots. The walls had ocean décor wallpaper, and seashell wind chimes hung from the ceiling.
‘Anything, think of anything else.’
Counting the number of starfish on the wallpaper seemed to help. After moments passed, intense panic subsided for lethargy. He wiped away hot tears and exhaled shakily. The sky felt a bit easier to carry, so to speak.
Cabin Three, his second home built in homage to his father, Poseidon, had tall marble columns and a grandiose exterior that was supposed to reflect the 'might of the sea.'
Much to Percy’s misfortune, his ego-maniacal father has ball sacks for brains, and loved big, tacky things. A 10-foot statue of a well-endowed Poseidon stood naked the centre of the room.
So to counteract the insanity, he liked to keep furnishings sparse. Storage chests at the foot of each bed, with a simple nightstand and identical lamps. The only stand-out piece he added was an antique fountain in the back corner of the room. There were no bunk beds that grazed the ceiling like in Cabin Eleven.
He was glad about that, otherwise he would've felt claustrophobic. A perk living long enough to gain 'unc status', you get to do whatever the hell you want.
The wooden bed frame creaked under his movements, “It’s freezing in here.”
Percy untangled himself from the sheets and got up to shut the window. It felt like Camp Half Blood's weather control team forgot to check the magical thermostat. He had goosebumps on his arm.
Rover stirred from his sleep and greeted the green-eyed demigod. A smile softly played at Percy's lips as he reached down to pet his dog.
Percy laid in bed, awake for a long while. He had hoped that the trickle of the fountain could lull him back to sleep but it never came.
Each time he closed his eyes, flashes of that man from his dream— Icarus —appeared in the darks of his eyelids like a movie screen. He phased in and out of consciousness, until Hylos kindly let him drift away for a dreamy walk down memory lane.
—“—
There were nights in the Second Giant War where there simply wasn’t room for rest.
Percy spent many of them standing guard on the deck of the Argo II. Where watching swirling clouds fly below and constellations above was the only thing to do for hours. He enjoyed it, being away from land and sea was rare for the Son of Poseidon.
Zeus didn't fancy Percy in his domain for his own reasons. However, a splitting headache that gave the gods Borderline Personality Disorder meant their priorities were elsewhere.
One particular night, Percy went below deck into the kitchen for a cup of water.
Jason had his long legs crammed under the humble dining table, whittling at an old paperback.
When he noticed Percy, Jason complained without looking up, “Why the fuck did Leo build the tables so short? He knows there are people taller than his 3-foot ass on this ship, right?”
Percy laughed and laughed, while Jason poorly hid his own wry smile.
The two young men went on for hours drinking hot cocoa, talking and laughing. Percy’s duties were long forgotten.
Annabeth was a light sleeper, and always visited the pantry to get snacks in the dead hours of the night.
Jason had asked her, “Why are you up late?”
She took a swig of Percy’s cocoa, much to his complaint, “Too many things in happening during the day, plus I like the quiet at night, it lets me design in peace.”
She gave Percy a gentle head rub and left shortly after.
Afterwards, Percy noted the puzzled look on Jason’s face, “She wants to be an architect and go to university when this is all over so she’s studying hard.”
Jason smiled lightly, amusement teased his lips like he heard a joke.
“What?” Percy probed.
“I thought you’re supposed to go to university to learn things there? It’d be pretty useless if she studied everything now.” Jason’s smile never went away, even as he took a bite of a brownie.
Percy shook his head, “University will be tough if she doesn’t put in the effort now. Annabeth doesn’t have time to get good at tests, or function in a normal school. I mean, we’re fighting in a mythical world war so not much studying happening. Only surviving.”
Jason’s smile was replaced for a wistful frown, “I’ll admit. You can be smart when you want to be, Percy Jackson.”
As the night wore on, Jason asked a blindingly obvious question: “Percy, what do you want to do after this?”
Percy kept his features carefully neutral. He didn’t want to give away how panicked the question made him feel. In truth, he hasn’t put much thought into the future. He was a 17 years-old, half-god soldier, who didn’t know if he’d be alive next week.
As for a future…? His immediate concern was (hopefully) surviving this stupid Giant War.
“My plan? Don’t know, to be honest, but I’m hoping to one day settle down with Annabeth. Maybe, live on the west coast and run a small surf shop,” He rubbed his hands wearily, but a spark of hope twinkled behind his sea-green eyes.
Then, Percy let out a dry laugh, “Who am I kidding? I’ll probably pick up a job in New York to help my family make ends meet. Working at Camp Half-Blood as a trainer.”
Jason regarded Percy with a wise look. A glint in his eye showed wisdom that was far more than a 16 year-old could possess.
Jason leaned over the counter, his voice low and gruff with fatigue, “It’s alright, Percy, to have your own ambitions too. I know we’re pawns for the gods and shit, but that doesn’t mean you've got to follow everyone else’s plan.”
Percy could smell the heat and the chocolate on Jason’s breath. Their proximity made his skin tingle. He found himself unable to move away as something stirred in his mind.
Jason was right, and Percy felt his words settle deep in his gut. His eyes flickered up to Jason’s electric blue ones, and they shared a moment of understanding.
The most challenging trials Percy had faced up to that point occurred in the Giant War, however those simple late night talks were one of the few things that got him through.
—“—
The Second Giant War happened 7 years ago. Everyone thought they’d live happy peaceful lives afterwards.
But then, they lost Jason, who died defending Apollo and Meg so they could escape from Medea. It’s ironic, hero of the Argo died at the hands of his namesake’s lover.
Percy, now 24 years old, was a director at Camp Half-Blood, like Mr. D and Chiron. His friends had moved on to lead happy lives, most were settled with jobs and families.
Hazel and Frank had two daughters, and moved up to Calgary. Leo was trying to start up a celestial bronze mine, last he heard. It had been a while since Percy talked to anyone.
Annabeth got a degree in architecture and worked in a comfortable corporate job while doing part-time designing for Olympus.
She lives in New Rome.
… Percy doesn’t.
He and Annabeth broke up.
Now. It wasn’t easy. Long story short. A broken engagement, custody battle over Rover, the dog (which Percy won) and complicated “adult” feelings. Mainly, the grief of mundane artifacts sending Percy into an emotional rage because… they reminded him of Annabeth.
Yeah. Life’s frigg-ing fantastic (Not)!
Still, both Annabeth and Percy knew it was something that needed to happen. There were too many directions they couldn’t agree to take. Which, in Percy’s case, was a lack of direction.
Annabeth was a very ambitious woman; ready to get her life started and move up in the world while he needed time to find himself. They finished senior year, stayed that summer at camp but Percy wasn’t interested in college anymore.
She moved to New Rome soon after while he stayed at his mom’s place with Paul and his little sister, Estelle.
Then… it all fell apart from there.
Percy stared at the ceiling, night was still fully dark. He knew another existential spiral was coming soon, which meant he needed to go do something.
ADHD, nerves, stupid flashbacks and an inner darkness that threatened to consume everything meant he spent a lot of time in his head.
He put on a shirt and sweatpants blindly then charged into the night, giving caution to the wind. Harpies, be damned.
Funny how some things never change.