Chapter Text
I’m in an inferno with no room for breath
It’s always there licking at my bones.
A quiet blaze waiting to break.
How can I return to myself if all there is is pain?
I’m dreaming of you, and me and the sea.
–That which was, wasn’t and won’t ever be.
Percy trailed slightly behind his father. It was surreal, he decided, walking out onto the street after him. The sidewalk was crowded and watching his father gliding his way through the crush felt like a fever dream–where the laws of motion weren’t observed. The bright pattern of his shirt would have been enough to make him stand out from the mortals around him. However there was something else that made him somehow separate from the world. He was tall, even in his mortal appearance. But it was the way people seemed to part before him that felt otherworldly, even as he wove and half turned every few steps to glance back at Percy.
No matter how he lowered himself, it was clear to Percy his father didn’t belong here. It made Percy’s chest feel tight, though that could have been his lungs seizing up from the whiffs of cigarette smoke, car exhaust and other pollutants too unpleasant to attempt to identify. Poseidon slowed once there was a gap in the crowd to allow Percy to fall into step beside him. The short walk left him winded and as they reached the restaurant Percy found himself trying to muffle his cough into his elbow.
He didn’t miss the glance his father shot his way. They were seated before Poseidon spoke to him.
“Kung pow chicken?” He said, glancing at the menu. “What is that?”
“It’s spicy and has peanuts.” Percy said simply.
“Is it good?” Poseidon was smiling at him over the top of the menu. Percy tried not to read into it.
“If you like spicy and peanuts. It’s not my favorite, but Paul likes it.” Percy said slowly.
Poseidon made a face. “No, I’m sure your pallet is better.”
“Paul’s fine.” Percy said with a frown. An anger that lived far too close to the surface these days rose in his chest. “Paul is great actually.”
Percy glanced back at his menu trying to temper the sudden flare of irritation he felt at his father. He knew–suspected really–that Poseidon hadn’t meant too much harm in his teasing, but it still bothered him. Honey chicken would be safe, Percy thought as he attempted to focus on his menu instead of the complexities that were the feelings around the three men his mother had been involved with. Yes, honey chicken would be a good choice. He had found that spicy food wasn’t as appealing as it once had been. It also didn’t help with his cough.
“I never said he wasn’t.” Poseidon said carefully, also looking back at his laminated menu. The material wobbled slightly. “Well what are you getting?”
The sound would have made Percy laugh once. It was ridiculous watching the king of the seas, here in the cheap corner restaurant wriggling a plastic lined paper.
“Honey chicken and noodles.” Percy said, lowering his menu back to the table.
“Hmm, look, they have shrimp! Shrimp sounds good.” Poseidon said, his eyes flicking back to Percy. He looked wary, as if he was calculating how upset he’d made Percy.
Percy nodded and found that now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say to his father. Small talk seemed unnatural after everything. He didn’t think they’d ever so much as shared an unloaded comment on the weather. Anything that could have been mistaken for small talk had been clocked in double meanings and warning.
“Shrimp is good.” Percy said wondering if maybe he should be reading more into this dinner. Maybe he would ask Frank about hidden meanings in his fortune cookie numbers later.
Poseidon’s smile seemed strained. It stayed fixed on his face as they ordered and after the waitress took the menus away.
Percy played with his straw wrapper, folding it over and over until it was wound tight.
“I have news.” His father said abruptly.
Percy felt his chest constrict painfully. Panic forming in it–a hot and fluttering sensation running down his limbs and chest. He should have known that this was nothing more than a meeting for Poseidon to deliver a message.
“News?” His voice was hard, emotionless.
“Yes, Hades and I spoke–regarding your concern about–about him attempting to come here.”
Percy felt his heart stop. He might have stopped breathing too. Tarturus. He had news about– His mind seemed to replay the black hole of a face appearing before him over and over. Percy felt like he was drowning again.
“Peace, Perseus. It is not bad news. Hades and I have scoured all manner of myth and ancient rituals, there is none we can find that would summon, draw or bind him to this realm. I will not say that our research is…full proof. However, we are agreed that to enquire beyond would be unwise and we would not wish to inspire an interest in such a thing.”
Percy felt his heart stutter. “What do you mean?”
“I mean to say, there is no ritual that we can find that would wake him and bring him here. We do not think there is an existing way to do such a thing.”
“So–so we’re…” Percy trailed off. ‘Safe’ had been on the tip of his tongue, but his father hadn’t said it was impossible. He had just said it hadn’t been invented.
“I hoped to reassure you.” His father said after a moment. “This hasn’t done that, has it?”
Percy shook his head. “No. I mean–I am. It has. I just–”
Percy cursed colorfully and put his head in his hands.
“Perceus, I mean it. I do not think he can come here. No history shows its possibility. When my father was resurrected it was creative, yes, but it was not unheard of, or without precedent.”
“Thank you.” Percy’s voice cracked and he looked back up at his father as he said it. “Thank you for looking into it and for telling me.”
“I should have saved this, I’m sorry if–Have I ruined this?” His father’s eyes flickered with concern.
“No, it’s fine.” Percy tried to smile but was sure that it was more a grimace. “I’m glad you told me.”
Percy meant it. He did not feel wholly free of his fear, but the fact his father had cared to actually look into it, that he had kept his word, worked with his brother even–that meant something Percy didn’t think he had the words to name.
They stared at the other for a long moment. Percy felt self-conscious as he realized his father was taking in the shadows under his eyes, and the exhaustion that still clung to him. His eyes went back to his straw wrapper.
“You're not sleeping.”
Percy didn’t look up. He knew his father’s gaze was still on him. “I sleep some. It’s hard.”
Percy had stopped looking at himself in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes had almost become as permanent as his tattoo. Annabeth had them too, but she at least was getting a few more hours than he was.
“Nightmares?” His father’s voice didn’t sound pitying.
Percy was grateful for it.
“No. Just–I don’t stay asleep, I don’t fall asleep easily either.” Percy hesitated a little. “I think it’s like my circadian rhythm is still down there.”
His father hummed. “The best way to fix that is to sleep when it’s the correct time where your body currently is.”
Percy knew that. He did. It just wasn’t that simple. Time had been its own hell down there. He’d lost track. At some point after the fall–the days of falling–time had stopped mattering. Sleep was a luxury and his body had adapted. He’d gone days or maybe even a week without it. Now that it was an option it felt like his body was rejecting it.
Annabeth had watched a documentary about organ donation a few nights ago, and since Percy had wondered if his body was simply rejecting his return–his transplant back to the world above. The fear had nagged at the back of his mind for days. Could he be unable to be normal again? What if he was stuck in this failing state of being until his body simply ran out on him?
“I’m–” Percy’s jaw snapped shut. Saying it aloud would make it real. So instead he changed the subject. “Annabeth has nightmares.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Does anything help?” Poseidon said, sounding genuinely concerned.
“It’s easier if I’m there.” Percy ground out, wondering if he would face the same conversation from Poseidon as he had from Paul and his mom.
“She wakes better or has less?” Poseidon asked instead of going into a long winded rant about co-dependency.
“She wakes up better.” Percy said, feeling relieved. “I can tell they’re starting. I think I interrupt them before they get too bad.”
Poseidon frowned, his eyebrows pinched slightly together. “Have you asked Morphous to help?”
Percy felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. “No.”
Asking any god for help was unappealing, but he hadn’t considered it. He would ask for Annabeth however.
His father nodded. “I’ll speak to him and see if there is anything that can be done for her relief. I have a few favors I can call in.”
Percy felt an odd emotion rise in his gut. He eyed his father suspiciously and frowned. “I didn’t think you liked her.”
Annabeth had certainly been very uncomfortable when Percy had been picked up by his father, though she had insisted on seeing him off anyway. It had been clear she felt apprehension over it. Percy wasn’t sure how much his father knew about the lead up to the fall. He had at least told Poseidon that it had been a choice on his part to fall with her. From what he could tell Poseidon didn’t hold it against her. If Percy had not made it back–he didn’t like to think. His father’s rage was after all legend.
Poseidon’s smile was thin. “I am not fond of her outside of her relationship to you. So long as she is with you, I will be…invested in her.”
Percy’s frown deepened. It was better than how Athena viewed him, Percy supposed. But his father’s words left him with a deepened worry.
“If I die?” Percy’s voice was small. “When I die.”
Poseidon’s body was ridged. “What are you asking me, Perceus?”
Percy tried not to let the sudden coolness of his dad’s tone affect him. He needed to be sure. “When I die, if she is still alive, you–you won’t harm her?”
There was something–some hot emotion swirling in the coloring of his father’s eyes. Like the eye of a hurricane sweeping over an oil rig at sea–an explosion waiting to ignite.
Percy pressed on seeing a loophole in his own question and wanting to insure his father had no outs to say he didn’t know what Percy would want. “Even if you think she is at fault for my death. Promise me.”
“Your request goes against my nature.” His father said, his voice tight.
“I know. Please, Dad.”
Poseidon’s nod was clipped and small, but it was there. Percy knew better than to ask for him to say it aloud. The nod was enough. His father would remember his own wishes if or when the time came.
“Thank you for offering to speak with Morphous” Percy turned the conversation back to slightly less troubling waters.
“You’re welcome.”
Percy knew his father meant more than just speaking to the dream god, as his father had known Percy’s gratitude was for more than that as well. Percy feared he would be pushing past his father’s limit, but knowing he needed to ask continued.
“Will it cost–I mean what do you want in return?”
Poseidon looked inhumanly still. Percy didn’t even think he was breathing.
“Am I so transactional?”
Percy blinked. There was no safe answer. His father had given him leeway again and again. He’d cared for him more than so many other demigods’ parents ever had, but they had never been as a mortal father and son might. Poseidon was no Gabe where Percy’s very breath in his presence seemed to cost the man. Yet he was no Paul who exuded joy at any opportunity to give Percy his attention. Poseidon lay somewhere firmly in between, happy to see Percy, so it seemed, but whose attention always came with a price.
Poseidon shook his head at Percy’s silence. “Percy, I want you to hear this, and I mean truly hear this. I am here because I want to be here, because you are my blood and son. If it were within my powers I would have given you any and everything you ever wanted. Were it not imperative for me to hide you from the other gods for years, things between us would have been different. Were I not bound by laws and the rule of others, things would be different.”
Percy blinked rapidly fighting a burning in his eyes. It was a pretty speech. He both wanted to desperately believe every word, and felt he couldn’t trust it. He’d been burned by the Olympians far too many times to believe words.
As if knowing his thoughts, his father sighed.
“If you seek a price paid to allay your fears, then know if it helps her, it helps you, and that is payment enough.” Poseidon continued. “You may be able to allow yourself to sleep if you are not worried about guarding her dreams.”
Percy blinked. “Guarding–what do you mean?”
“Percy,” Poseidon smiled. “It is natural to lay awake when you are worried for another. Your mother does this too.”
Percy felt guilt bubble in his gut. “I know she’s not sleeping great. I asked her if she wanted us to go back to camp, but she–er–yelled at me.”
His father’s face fell slightly. “I didn’t mean for you to feel bad about it. I simply meant it was human. Your body has been fighting for so long–on guard against all monsters–it is natural to shift that instinct to protecting Annabeth from her own mind.”
Percy considered. “I guess that makes sense.”
His heightened awareness, Percy knew, went beyond that of looking for nightmares. He’d nearly sucker punched a grocery bagger at the local mart the other day because he’d walked too close behind Percy’s back to get to the next checkout station.
“I often find when I am looking at a series of problems it’s helpful to find where the leak starts rather than look down river where the flood lands.” Poseidon reached out across the table and squeezed his shoulder. “If Annabeth sleeps, perhaps you will too.”
They lapsed into silence as their food was delivered.
Poseidon smiled as he ate his shrimp and Percy bit back a laugh. His father’s delight in chopsticks was fun to watch. Even as Percy insisted on using a fork for his own food. He would not embarrass himself by trying to eat noodles with chopsticks in front of a god, no matter if it was his father.
“What?” His father asked, tilting his head, as he ended his long explanation about the invention of chopsticks.
“It’s just weird.” Percy shrugged. “You in here.”
“Good, weird?” Poseidon sounded hesitant.
Percy felt the tightness in his chest return. “Great, weird. I’m just–I’m not sure what to do or say.”
They sat across from each other, the murmur of talking drifting over them as they both just took in the other. Percy wished he’d always had this. Wished he’d always known who his father was–felt that he’d cared. It was hard not to feel bitter over it, most of the time. When he’d been young and lay awake listening to Gabe and his mother fight, or when he’d seen other dads at school events it had been a hurt and an anger. Here though it was just a flicker of sadness–missed chances and time.
“Would you like to try the shrimp? It is excellent.” His father said after a moment’s pause.
Percy wondered if he too felt off center, here sitting together doing something so normal. Percy nodded and reached with his fork over to his father’s plate.
Percy had barely bitten the shrimp when the burning began. He blinked and fire was engulfing him. Lava seeped down his esophagus and into his stomach.
“Percy?” His father’s voice was far away.
He could feel nothing but the fire. He was on fire, his body being eaten from the inside out. A laughter was echoing in his ears. He hadn’t ever made it out. He was in a wasteland where only the fire kept him alive. Fire that slowly killed him bit by bit but never let him go. Never let him truly escape.
“Perceus!”