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Reaching out hesitantly, Apollo let his hand rest on Peleus’ scales, which made a small shuffling noise as he stroked the dragon’s neck. Purring, the guardian of the Golden Fleece waved its tail around excitedly.
With his other hand, Apollo’s fingers stretched through the magical barrier. A slight shimmer appeared where his arm slowly entered Camp Half-Blood. Peleus whined when Apollo withdrew his other hand and stepped through.
Lester Papadopoulos returned to the Greek demigod training grounds with zero fanfare. No one welcomed him, and he rather preferred it that way. Unremarkable as he was, the teenaged boy slipped into the Big House without incident.
Seymour the Leopard roared triumphantly when a grape shot out of its mouth and straight into Lester’s chest. An older man in a wheelchair turned himself around, craning his neck curiously.
“Lester Papadopoulos!” exclaimed Chiron, his false legs twitching, as if the Centaur wanted to assume his full form, but decided not to. “I mean, Lord Apollo. Why are you… that is to say, why have you…”
“I’ll take this one, Chiron.”
Lester and Chiron both looked around to see a man, about thirty years in age, dressed in a vine-patterned tropical shirt. The newcomer’s purple irises flashed with fiery power. This was the form Dionysus had returned to wearing ever since Lester had reascended to immortality.
The Centaur, recognizing when he was not needed, leapt up into his full form to leave the Big House. With the door closing, and the sound of clopping hooves fading away, the two Gods stared each other down.
Lester’s blue eyes briefly flashed golden with the power of the Sun. Satisfied, Dionysus waved for the two of them to sit.
“You’re looking well,” complimented Lester.
“Can’t say the same,” was the snarky reply.
Just for show, Lester threw the grape back into Seymour’s mouth with the speed of a bullet. Growling with appreciation, the cheetah head licked its lips.
Spreading his hands, Lester Papadopoulos, who was still the God Apollo, smirked. “I assure you, I’ve never been better.”
Dionysus’ purple eyes were dancing with mirth. “Clipped your own wings, have you? You’re playing a dangerous game. Ironically, flying too close to the Sun.”
“This is a fraction of a fraction of me. Artemis is the only one on the Council who will notice, and she’s also one of the ones who will let me get away with this.”
Steepling his fingers, Dionysus kept his face carefully blank. “And why should I let you get away with this? Besides, Micah McGroffer is out on a demigod retrieval mission.”
Disappointed that Meg was out of camp currently, Apollo took a moment to consider his actions one last time. A year had passed since he had returned to Olympus. It had been a torturous year. He found every Council meeting more and more frustrating. The politics and stagnation reached into his soul, and he could feel it tempting him back into his old habits.
Determined not to, and buoyed by the recent actions his twin sister and Hermes had taken to reconcile with demigods, Apollo had formulated this plan. People came to mind. Jason Grace, Meg McCaffrey, and all of his children: Will, Austin, Kayla, Gracie, Yan.
Resolve affirmed, Apollo laid his cards on the table. “You’ll let me because you want to. You want to help the demigods, make their lives the best you can make.”
Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, the camp therapist kept his poker face for one more round. “And why would I ever risk our father’s wrath doing that?”
“Because you realized what I realized when I was Lester last time. These demigods are worth the heartbreak. They fought and died and gave everything for us, and it’s about time some of us started giving back.” That was Apollo’s thesis for returning.
The two half-brothers stared at each other, testing the waters for a minute. Then, Dionysus was up and walking out of the door, gesturing for Apollo to follow. They walked along the outer edge of the cabins, hidden from the demigods as they made their way around the circle.
“I expect you want to stay in your cabin?” Dionysus guessed.
Relieved that he would not have to ask, Apollo nodded. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
They had stopped in front of the back door to said cabin. A booming beat and loud chatter filtered out of the closed door. Apollo turned away to head inside, but Dionysus placed a hand on his chest, holding him back.
“Actually, I don’t think it is.” The once-demigod’s purple eyes were very clear at that moment.
“How do you suppose it isn’t a good idea?” retorted Apollo.
Dionysus grimaced. “You know I can’t speak about private therapy sessions. All I can say is that if you walk into that cabin, don’t expect to be welcomed with any enthusiasm.”
Apollo took a deep breath. The distant visage of Dionysus’ back shocked him back into reality. He had been standing in front of the back door for over a full minute.
Nervously, and feeling distinctly unbalanced, Apollo opened the cabin door. The shouting and music instantly shut off. Walking past the quiet room, for music lovers, and the storage office, filled with medical files, Apollo entered the bedroom of Cabin Seven.
Five pairs of eyes screwed onto the form of Lester Papadopoulos in varying states of disbelief. Holding up his hands in the universal gesture for surrender, Apollo smiled weakly.
“Hey,” fell out of his lips.
First to recover was his youngest son, Austin Lake. The boy clapped his hands together once, looking excited. “Are you here to see me?”
Gazing around the space, Apollo spotted a banner hung over the front entrance. Farewell Party for Austin Lake . His stomach sank. Austin thought that he was there to congratulate and participate in the festivities. Quickly, Apollo thought through his memories of Latricia Lake and their son, in addition to spotting the clearly saxophone shaped case on the floor next to some luggage. Austin must be leaving to pursue a career in music.
“Yes, of course!” Instantly, all six people in the room winced; Apollo at his overly bright tone and delayed response, his children at the lie. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was the God of Truth.
From disbelief and hope, Apollo witnessed every expression in the room shutter and close. He felt as if his heart did the same.
Then, like a nightmare, Dionysus walked through the front door, casually tearing down the congratulatory banner, and stuffing it in the garbage can.
“Ah, I see he actually came in. I thought he was going to linger outside the back door forever, so I came to tell you—but nevermind, he must have told you already,” drawled the God of Wine.
Apollo raised his hand to speak, but Austin cut in. “Told us what?”
Locking eyes, the God of Truth pleaded with his half-brother. Don’t do this , said his blue eyes. Dionysus looked elsewhere.
“Your father, the esteemed Lord Apollo, has decided to join the five of you in Cabin Seven for the foreseeable future.”
Then, Dionysus’ roaming gaze happened to land on the banner he just disposed of. “Ahh, I see that Aaron Laxophone is going to be leaving us. As you no doubt knew and planned to do, you will have to come to the Big House where there are health, safety, and personal information forms you have to fill out before leaving.”
“Um… I have to leave within the hour to make my train, though,” objected Austin, raising a hand holding a pink slip of paper.
Dionysus’ purple eyes locked again with Apollo, but this time, he could not tell what the Camp Director was trying to say.
“In that case, you had better come to the Big House very soon.”
Dead silence was spread across the room. Yan Wen’s hands hung by his side, glowsticks slowly fading. Will Solace, the cabin counsellor, pursed his lips.
Feeling horrible, Apollo tried to fix the mood. He grabbed a party popper and pulled it, setting off confetti everywhere. “Woohoo! Let’s go Austin, let’s go! Let’s go Austin, let’s go. Let’s go…”
Apollo let his hands fall. Gracie Rao’s hair was full of confetti, but she looked less and less festive by the second. In fact, her glare could have melted steel and was directed straight at him. Kayla Knowles had her arms around her body, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
“Come on, everyone. It’s Austin’s last hour in camp, you know? Let’s make sure we can send him off in a great mood!” Apollo tried to use a loud voice to lift spirits, jogging over to the DJ station and turning on the music again. He jumped up and down, but no one joined him.
Grabbing the mic, he began a haiku. “ One last hour in camp/Austin Lake ventures away/to fame and fortune. ”
Austin walked over and wound down the volume. Apollo felt his own expression die on his face, as his true, roiling swamp of guilt rose in his eyes.
“I’m just going to go now, dad,” stated his son, quietly.
Apollo grabbed his hands earnestly, hoping Lester’s face would showcase the emotion well enough. “Austin, I swear— I might not have known, but I’m really happy for you, I am!”
The smallest intake of breath from Gracie while a muscle in Austin’s jaw jumped. None of them believed him, because he could not even believe himself.
Never before had Apollo felt so distinctly Lester.
After Austin left, taking with him all of his luggage, and none of Apollo’s, Kayla quickly made an excuse and slipped out the door. Yan steered Gracie by the shoulders into the storage room, leaving Apollo and Will alone.
Without speaking, his son crossed over to his bed, taking a box of cornflakes off the mattress and stashing it under his bed. Apollo watched as he drew a case of strange black plates from beside the cereal. Looking around awkwardly, he gladly recognized the bunk that he had taken for himself last time he had stayed here.
Quickly striding over there, Apollo perched himself cross-legged on the mattress. Leaning back on his hands, he realized this small space felt more comfortable for him. The low ceiling and cozy blankets insulated the space. Relaxing, Apollo hummed a song quietly under his breath.
As the melody hopped and twisted, the God of Music finally felt a shard of the peace he had been searching one year for. A homey atmosphere settled in. Will’s hands glowed, silently focusing on the objects he held while Apollo drew blankets around himself, making a little burrow.
“You aren’t really Apollo, are you?” Will’s voice was incredibly soft, as if trying not to pierce the mood. Apollo saw that his son was still not looking at him.
“I don’t know if Apollo still exists. If he does, then only in part,” mused the Olympian.
His son silently padded over, carrying another case of black plates with him. As it was brought closer, the God of Healing saw that the plates were perfectly round and flat, like pancakes. Will set the case onto his bed. The teenager held out his hands, and the God hesitantly retracted his own from the pile of blankets.
Gently taking his hands, Will placed his hands onto the black plates. Immediately, a strange tickling sensation began, and the God of Healing realized his hands were glowing. Looking within, there was a small little siphon in his power reserves.
“Leo and Calypso sent these over from the Waystation. The case stores the healing charge, and spreads it out evenly among the plates. When removed, the plates discharge. Anything severe still requires us – usually me and Gracie – to get involved directly, but these cases are becoming a mandatory part of quest kits starting next week,” explained Will. Instantly, it was evident why the demigod was the Head Medic of Camp Half-Blood. His patience and calm energy was perfect for the role.
A green light flickered on in the case, and the God of Healing instinctively understood that the plates were fully charged. Closing the case, Will took the two charged cases and placed them in a bag.
Trying to stand and follow his son, the God realized he felt unsteady and quickly sat back down before he fell over. Blinking spots out of his eyes, he barely noticed when Will reached over and patted his shoulder.
“Take it easy, dad. First time charging always leaves you weakened. It’s been a few months for me and I can only just walk normally. Even so, I can’t use my powers to do anything for a couple of hours afterwards. The charging process is a bit invasive in that way.”
Swinging the bag around his shoulders, the demigod pulled on shoes and headed for the door. “I’d recommend getting some rest. And make sure you don’t use your powers while they recover.”
With the door halfway opened, the cabin counsellor hesitated. “I… dad, I don’t think you should stay with us. I know you’re not the same Apollo as before, and everything you’ve done since Austin left has been distinctly Lester, but… I don’t know.”
Lester timidly smiled. “It’s okay. You don’t have to know. I’ll see what I can do, but for the moment, I don’t know if I can change Dionysus’ decision.”
“Right.” Will looked distinctly unconvinced, and Lester’s heart sank at the sight of it. Then, the demigod inhaled sharply, as if preparing himself. “Since you’ve got some time, why don’t you come around the Infirmary? I… there actually is something I need to talk to you about.”
In record time, Lester Papadopoulos was out of his bed and ready to leave.
The door to the Infirmary slammed open with a bang. Lester jumped, dropping his freshly cut bandages onto the floor, and Will stopped his speech mid-sentence, turning and sprinting into the bathroom to wash his hands, instantly.
Into the room hurtled a floating Kayla Knowles. She was in a crumpled position, moans of pain seeping out of her as she was moved into the cabin. Following her were Thalia, daughter of Zeus, who was clearly the reason Kayla was floating, and Gracie Rao.
Thalia’s arms carefully conducted Kayla’s descent onto one of the patient beds. Gracie had sprinted right past Lester to where Will had gone. Said Head Medic emerged from the bathroom, dressed in scrubs with a face shield and gloves.
Apollo quickly assessed his daughter’s condition. “Twisted ankle, broken tibia, hairline fracture in the femur, all left. Second degree burns along entire right arm and part of upper right chest. Snapped right index finger and thumb.”
Will blinked, taking in the rush of information. Gracie had emerged, also fully suited up, and immediately began taking down the diagnosis.
From where she was gulping down air by the door, Thalia gasped out, “Climbing wall, lava hit her off.”
Back straightening, Apollo stepped forward. This was his arena. “I’ll handle this.” He stepped forward, flickering with the power of the God of Healing.
But no one seemed to pay him any mind. “Gracie, wet dressing.” Will’s instructions sent Gracie running for the sink. “Yan, head and hips.” The just-arrived Yan settled in to stabilize his sister’s spine. Will moved without sparing another glance at Lester, heading for the ambrosia and nectar.
“Um… I could just handle this?” Lester’s tone had gotten shakier.
Gracie reappeared from inside the bathroom, toting a pile of wet dressing. She pointed at Thalia. “Get him out.”
Taken aback, Lester instinctively glanced around at Will, before realizing he had just handed over any potential control of the situation. The son he thought he had connected with did not even glance away from where he carefully applied nectar to the burns.
“He just charged a pack. Gracie’s right.”
Betrayed, the God allowed his half-sister to drag him out of the Infirmary and away from his daughter.
Stunned, Lester found himself under the sparkling scrutiny of Thalia’s icy blue eyes. His Godly sister’s Lieutenant was without her usual silver tiara. The small detail brought him out of his reverie.
“Where’s your tiara?” he asked, purely curious.
Thalia’s eyes widened, and she was struck speechless as her hands patted the top of her head. “You just… why are you even thinking about that right now?”
Then, Lester remembered what had just occurred. Here he was worrying about a tiara when his daughter was dying. He shook his head.
“I think I was a little too accurate with recreating being mortal,” he replied ruefully, scratching his head.
His half-sister laughed. Like being speechless, it was another rare occurrence for her. “You gave yourself attention issues?”
Shrugging, Lester turned around to the Infirmary door. After a moment’s consideration, he went to open the door and demand that he be allowed to heal Kayla in an instant. Thalia’s hand closed around his wrist.
“On second thought,” Artemis’ Lieutenant blurted, clearly improvising, “you’re… ehhh… right about the tiara. You can come find it with me. It’s… I lost it somewhere.” She vaguely waved towards the entire rest of the camp.
Staring at her, Lester subtly tried to shift his arm out of her grip. At the same time, he tried to figure out her angle. What was she doing in Camp Half-Blood alone, anyway?
“I mean, Lord Apollo, if you could please assist me in retrieving my Lieutenant’s tiara?” tried Thalia, misinterpreting his stare as divine disapproval.
He shook his head. “I’d be happy to help you; you’re Arty’s lieutenant. But…” Lester trailed off, debating whether or not this was a good idea. Then, he remembered that the two of them had a common point beyond Artemis: Jason. So he continued, “I’d rather you not call me by that name. It… doesn’t feel like me.”
Thalia’s eyes softened. “I understand. Let’s start over, then. My name is Thalia.” She stuck out her hand.
Feeling as if something had thawed, he shook the outstretched hand. “Call me Lester, for now.”
Lester followed after Thalia. After a moment where the two of them enjoyed the delighted shouts of the under-twelve swordfighting class, his half-sister remarked, “You’re different, now. I remember back at Camp Jupiter that you had changed, and My Lady agreed on that. But I’m glad that something stuck with you.”
Memories of slowly becoming one of King Tarquin’s zombies, of Frank Zhang’s body burnt just like Kayla’s had been, of the last time he had talked to Thalia all washed over him.
“Everything stuck with me,” he whispered, unable to speak properly under the weight of his memories. Thalia glanced at him questioningly as they rounded Zeus’ Fist. “I didn’t do anything right on my quest. Every single person who helped me did so at their own detriment. Every single enemy I won over was thanks to someone else.”
Jason Grace’s name boomed silently in the summertime air.
“I faced a thousand lifetimes’ worth of horrible, horrible decisions that caused an ocean of pain. You would think being immortal would give you an infinite amount of time to become a better person; it just gives you forever to pretend you don’t need to change.”
They had reached the canoe lake. Thalia stopped walking here, sitting down and sparing a small smile for the naiads. Lester realized she was taking her time figuring out what to say.
“The more time I spend in this world, the more I realize how flawed everyone is. I… I’m immortal now. And for a while, I didn’t realize how meaningless that was. I know Artemis best, obviously. But everything I’ve seen from her, from you, from my dad… You’re all painfully human . And what could be more human than procrastination?”
Lester chuckled at her words, somewhere between humour and devastation. “That’s why I’m here, you know? For once, I had been living . Truly. Our father doesn’t understand, but I do and I know you do, too. I can’t just go back and forget about any of the people I left behind. But I also can’t become mortal and truly be a part of this world. Even here, I’m just pretending, Thalia. Pretending that I won’t be torn apart when I outlive any connection I find here. Pretending that I can really be accepted here.”
He picked up a pebble and skipped it across the lake, watching it bounce its way all the way to the other shore. A real Lester Papadopoulos’ pebble would have sunk straight to the bottom.
“You’re right, you know? I… I love the Hunt. It’s given me years of a good life, good friends and family. But I talked to Jason,” her voice broke slightly, “twice after finding him again. And I haven’t spoken to Annabeth in a year; we used to be sisters. I’ve been so busy being immortal that I haven’t remembered what mortal connection feels like; I’ve been so busy being immortal that I’ve started living like a God does.”
Thalia’s hand came up to her hair. “There’s no tiara to look for, Lester. I’m sorry I lied. I’m on break from the Hunt. My Lady is kind enough to let me keep my blessings while I’m away, until I give her a definitive answer. Besides, Reyna looks more regal wearing it than I do.” Her burdened gaze travelled across the camp grounds. “I’m off to Camp Jupiter today. That’s where I’ll figure out if I’ve lost something irretrievable.”
Lester shot her an amused glance. “I knew that you were on break, actually. I also knew that you would be the only one here who could relate to what I needed to get off my chest.”
“Fair enough.”
They sat there for a while, two immortals who had realized they were missing what it meant to be mortal.
Then, a naiad popped her head out of the water and began to spew water in an arc, creating a rainbow in the summer sunlight.
Will’s face gazed out of it, seeming incredibly tired for a moment. Then, his eyes focused, and he snapped into professional mode.
“Dad, I thought you’d want to see that Kayla’s okay. I’m sorry for making you leave, but her condition was quite severe and I didn’t have time to be nicer. Also, you just charged your first pack and nearly collapsed. You might not be fully mortal right now, but clearly you’ve done something to reduce your accessible power, so any attempt to heal her wouldn’t have been safe.”
Lester knew all of this, but he had still been made to leave the room while his daughter was in critical condition. Plus, the reminder of his immortality stung.
The view began to shift. Kayla came into focus. Her eyes were still sluggishly open, but she seemed much better. The burns were completely gone, but the ankle and lower leg were still in a cast.
Most likely, she had consumed too much Godly nutrition to risk more, and the little black plates were not powerful enough to heal the bone fractures.
“Will, is anyone else capable of healing powers?” worried Lester.
Kayla winced. Will, who had poked his head into the frame earlier, suddenly looked very nervous. Then, Gracie barged into frame.
“Me,” she stated, face entirely blank.
Lester felt as if she was baiting him into something, but he had to ask for Kayla’s sake. “Could you try healing Kayla’s ankle? It’s just twisted. The broken tibia will have to wait.”
Gracie’s face slacked with poorly acted shock. “Oh no! Why didn’t we think of that!” Will said something inaudible from off-screen, but Lester’s uninjured daughter shook her head emphatically.
“No, he needs to hear this. You could come and help me learn how to use these powers? No? Thought that came naturally, did you? Will only figured out he could do this because of the Titan War, no thanks to you. Or how about you prove that having a God for a dad is worth something for once and just make it better yourself?”
“Oh wait! You’ve never cared before, why should you start now? You’ve been here two times before and have only bothered talking to Will, Austin and Kayla. What, Yan and I aren’t ‘war hero’ enough for you to give a shit for?”
Fuming, Gracie stormed out of the message. Lester was left looking at Kayla, who looked reticent. Somehow, he knew that she agreed with every word that had just been said, but simply regretted that she was now left to deal with him.
“Kayla, I—”
She cut him off. “I think you should leave us alone for a bit, dad.” And swiped through the Iris message.
Thalia left for Camp Jupiter to see Percy and Annabeth after a mutual promise to continue looking for the sense of belonging that they were missing. Lester stayed out of the Infirmary and his cabin, and wandered Camp Half-Blood alone.
No one approached him. If it had been out of fear of an Olympian God walking around, he would have felt hurt. But no one even noticed him. So it just made him feel hollow. It was just one year ago he had fought alongside these kids to defeat Emperor Nero. He had not made any impact while here.
Lester thought that was morbidly accurate. What had he done? His arrival interrupted Percy Jackson after he had earned his peace twice over. He proceeded to encourage Meg to run back into an abusive father. Then, he brought war and death to little Georgina’s home. After that he got Jason killed, and only survived because Piper was far kinder than anyone deserved. Then, after Harpocrates spared him despite everything, Frank sacrificed himself, too. All the way down to the little Arrow of Dodona who had accompanied him through everything.
Finding himself on the beach of Long Island Sound, Lester stared out into the water. Once, he had been the God Apollo, who came into the world on a floating island in the middle of these waters. His first actions had been to kill a living creature. A horrendous serpent that tried to eat his mother, yes, but Apollo’s legacy was death and plague and a trillion wrongs.
“Interesting, isn’t it, that despite knowing not a thing about each other, a father and son can still share such similarities?”
Starting at the soft voice, Lester realized that Yan now stood beside him on the beach. Turning his mind away from his legacy, he searched his son’s face. There was something in the way Yan gazed over the waves that starkly called to something in him.
When Yan turned his head towards him, Lester quickly looked away. “Sorry. I didn’t realize this was your spot.”
“My spot?” Yan was amused. “Nothing about this spot marks it as mine. It could be your spot, too. We don’t often feel like we get to choose our spot in this world, don’t you think? Hm.”
The musing philosophy was unexpected. Yan took a pebble and tried to skip it across the waves. It sank after one bounce. That thought hit him hard, as Gracie’s words slammed at him from the past.
“Gracie wasn’t wrong, I think we all know that. But she’s also young.” Lester was surprised at Yan’s declaration. “I was only brought to camp at sixteen, the oldest newcomer in a very long time. Gracie… she’s just twelve. It’s difficult for her to understand why an immortal parent might not want to be around their children.”
Yan’s empathy tore at him like drakon claws on paper.
“Yan… don’t make excuses for me. All of us are failures. I don’t even remember who your other parent is. That’s how little I cared. It’s probably silly of me to come here thinking I can just pretend to be Lester still.” Apollo stared straight at the setting Sun, where another part of him was driving the chariot. “I suppose it’s simply the prevailing tragedy of a God to never be given more than a taste of real connection.”
His son smiled wryly. “Again, we might not be so different. I don’t remember who my other parent is, either. And I’ve never felt like looking, that’s how little I cared. It was probably silly of me to come here thinking I can just pretend that you and I have a typical father-son relationship. But I won’t just suppose that it’s a prevailing tragedy of Fate that causes this.
“If you really want to hold on to the spirit of being mortal, dad, then you have to remember what it means to have spirit. You came here because you believed it, but giving up at the first sign that something won’t work out is the Godly thing to do. You should know something about that stubborn mortal desire to never give up by now. If nothing else, hold on to that.”
Yan and Lester spent some time catching up, after that. His son told him about Meg and Nico di Angelo’s demigod retrieval quest that was running a few days late, while Lester filled him in on the latest Godly news.
Being a gossip was yet another thing they shared already.
Hours after Yan left for dinner, Lester strolled under the starry sky back to the Big House where he slept on the porch.
Waking up, Lester realized that he had somehow slept past the sunrise. Then, he registered the blanket wrapped around him. It was the same one from his bunk. A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he saw Dionysus round the corner.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought it might be Pollux again,” droned the Camp Director, clearly bored. “What did you do, by the way? You and all of your kids slept right past sunrise. I was sitting alone in the Dining Pavilion for a full hour before anyone got there.”
Lester blinked. “I didn’t do anything.”
The younger God snorted. “Clearly, judging from the fact that you slept here and not in your cabin. I told you so, didn’t I?”
Rolling his eyes, Lester stood up and noticed a small bowl of dry cereal with a note sticking out from underneath.
One time thign, dad. Don’t miss meels—Will .
Folding away the note, Lester crunched on his cereal happily, ignoring Dionysus’ voice as he babbled about Camp Half-Blood’s finances.
Hope tastes like cornflakes/starchy, tough, hard to swallow/medicine for me , he thought.
Two hours later, Lester stood in the Infirmary with Will, Gracie and Yan around Kayla’s bed. Kayla was deep asleep. Gracie shot an expectant glare at him. He let the malice wash over him, gently reminding himself that forgiveness was a door that only opened from one end.
“Right, so as Dionysus said, I’ll be sticking around for a bit. I’ll be sleeping in the Big House, because Cabin Seven is your cabin even more than it is mine. I’m here to give myself the chance to learn about who you all are; if any of you want to learn about who I am, I’ll be eternally grateful for it.”
Shouts from outside had Gracie tensing, but Lester smiled. Right on time. “For now, we should go greet Cabin Seven’s newest member.”
Eyes widening, his uninjured daughter grabbed Yan by the hand and pulled him out of the building towards the commotion. Will stayed back, subjecting Lester to intense scrutiny. Squirming, he coughed awkwardly.
“You’re not just here for us,” declared the Head Medic. “I mean, you are here to try to repair your relationship with us if possible, but you’re really here for the new person.”
Lester grinned at Will. “Now you see. I came here knowing that Marci was going to arrive soon.”
Beginning to walk side by side, his son seemed surprised at his good mood. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thanks.” He opened the Infirmary doors for them both. “Yan has a strange way of making things sound more manageable.”
That had Will grinning back. “No doubt. That’s why I sent him to cheer you up.”
A flash of dark shadows from near Thalia’s pine was followed by the triumphant roar of Peleus.
“Looks like my new sibling is here.”
“And your boyfriend,” teased Lester, elbowing his son gently.
Will blushed, and Lester threw an arm around his son’s shoulder, keeping the chatter light as they strolled over to the exhausted Nico di Angelo, Meg McCaffrey and Marci Freeman.
It was impossible to know if he would be a good father to Marci. He had certainly failed enough times. But repeating failure was something for Gods to do. Here, surrounded by all of this very temporary family, Lester knew that the most human thing to do would be to learn and grow.
So he would. There, with the golden bow and arrow flashing over his newly arrived daughter’s head, Apollo made a promise to himself that was distinctly Lester.
I will live like a mortal—as if savouring every precious and valuable cornflake .