Chapter Text
He was immediately swarmed by a horde.
Okay, in their defense, he'd apparently crashed his own funeral.
Suddenly, a bunch of people were yelling at him, asking him stuff, grabbing at him - it was starting to make his ears ring. Before he could embarrass himself before what looked like the entire population of Camp, a voice rang out, "Where have you been?"
Annabeth stood before him, barely a foot away. His gaze snapped to the sea of orange around them and then back to her face as she approached. Her eyes were wide and angry, and he almost wrenched back when she reached out but there were people surrounding him, at his back.
She didn’t touch him, though. Well, she didn’t grab him. He figured you could technically categorize the punch to his shoulder as touch.
“Ow,” he said. He didn’t mean it really, given how his whole left leg was shooting with dull pangs of pain.
“You’ve been gone for two whole weeks, Percy Jackson. Where the hell were you?”
She looked really mad, actually. She also looked a little like she was going to start crying, because her eyes were wet. He didn’t want to make her cry. Her chest was heaving as she stood in place, glaring up at him. Her hands were clenched in fists to her sides. He also didn’t want to get hit for real this time.
He opened his mouth to answer, then floundered. All around him, the campers had fallen silent, either soaking up the drama or genuinely terrified to get between Annabeth Chase and the focus of her ire.
“I . . . got a little lost,” he settled on. His voice cracked, throat suddenly really dry.
Wrong choice of words. Any semblance of calm in her eyes disappeared, eyes almost flashing with anger. “For two weeks? Percy!” she moved forward again, both hands moving up like she wanted to throttle him. And obviously, he knew she’d never actually throttle him, but he was feeling really hot right now, and he couldn’t even see the horizon with how everyone was swarmed around them, watching them with bated breaths and hushed whispers. He moved backwards automatically and stumbled, feet failing him, and then flinched when he felt Annabeth grab his arm to keep him from falling flat on his butt.
The whispers died down for a second, then started up again, more urgent. Annabeth’s eyebrows jumped, concern filling her expression.
“Okay!” the both of them jumped this time, as Clarisse’s voice broke out from somewhere in the masses. “Show’s over folks, back to the mess hall for last call unless you wanna be harpy chow.” She shooed the crowd. He tried to quash the wave of gratitude he felt towards the daughter of Ares, because that’s just not the type of relationship they had. She gave him a little nod as she grabbed the last of the looky-loos and physically dragged them off into the treeline.
Only him, Annabeth, Chiron and Grover stood on the beach. The centaur approached first, smiling in greeting.
“I suppose we shan’t be needing that anymore,” he said, pointing to what he realized was a shroud in Annabeth’s other hand, wrapped around her fist. It was a soft, pale greyish-blue thing. She unwrapped it, and it unfurled a little crumpled. He saw a silver trident embroidered with startling detail. And a little owl at the bottom corner, before Annabeth covered it up with her finger. His name was spelled under the trident in Greek.
The Athena cabin must have weaved that, because it’s not like he had any cabin mates to take on the task.
“Percy, child,” Chiron called his attention from where he was staring at his own shroud. “Welcome back. When Grover shared that he had contacted you in a dream, we were expecting you. Tyson took word to your father himself. And then we heard nothing for near ten days, until a freak storm started raging two days ago. We assumed it was . . .”
Percy nodded. Poseidon usually experienced his emotions by way of causing mini earthquakes or tsunamis. “You figured my Dad was pissed, he’d found me dead.”
All three of them winced at his words. Whatever, it was the truth.
“And also,” Grover came forward, hands clasped tightly before him. “Last time I saw you, you were kind of bleeding out.”
Percy snorted. The others didn’t seem to find it as funny, all peering in expectation. Well, too bad. He was tired, hungry, thirsty, hurting, and he wanted a nap. He didn’t care in what order. And what he wanted most of all was some space, because the three of them were standing close and moving closer still. He tugged his arm free from Annabeth’s loose grip and stepped back.
Correction. He tried to take a step and actually did keel over this time. Annabeth reached out immediately, but he saw Grover hesitate, nervously watching his face. He wasn’t sure he could get back up on his own anyway, and Annabeth’s arm wrapping under his arms was making him tense, so he lifted his other arm in permission for the satyr. The other boy took it readily, relief breaking upon his face. The two of them helped Percy more than he wanted to admit as they all rose up.
“Perhaps a trip to the infirmary is in order, before we debrief?” Chiron offered, eyes moving up and down to take inventory of the blood still soaking his clothes.
It was Grover who muttered under his breath, “And a shower, maybe?” Rude.
“I trust you two have him from here?” Chiron essentially said, before leaving them to their own devices.
Their trek back to camp was slow, and it was terrible on several levels for Percy. Apparently, he’d lost the last vestiges of the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright, so his friends were basically fully dragging him now. Their slow pace also meant Percy’s eyes kept roving about, worried they’d be ambushed by . . . something. They were basically sitting ducks right now. Shuffling ducks, whatever. And to make everything even better, Annabeth was apparently at the end of her rope, shooting a question at him for every foot they managed.
Percy was glad he had Grover trapped under his other arm, because the satyr’s compulsive need to play mediator was really having its moment in the sun.
“Wait, so where exactly did you end up? After the volcano?”
He tried to look at Grover covertly, and the satyr shot him a wide eyed look. He wasn’t mad that he hadn’t shared that detail with Annabeth. Did that mean Tyson and Chiron didn’t know either? Had Grover only told Poseidon?
Percy pretended to be concentrating on his most recent step, and used the time to weigh the pros of putting off the truth. It had to be shared at some point. He was just worried what Annabeth would know already. For him, his education around Ogygia started and ended with that graphic novel in third grade. Annabeth didn’t have a trusted adult around to make sure she only read age-appropriate material though.
“I was in Ogygia,” Percy offered at length. “I landed on the island, I think, after the volcano exploded. I don’t know how I got there, but when I opened my eyes, Calypso was there. She healed me.” There. Brief and to the point. No holes to dig into, because that was the truth until that point.
Annabeth didn’t have a big reaction to it, though Grover - with his truly abysmal acting skills - filled the ensuing expectant lull in the conversation.
“Huh,” he said. “That makes a lot of sense! When Poseidon brought us back here, I couldn’t feel you anymore. We thought it was because-” he paused. “Well. But now it makes sense. Ogygia isn’t on the mortal realm.”
Percy didn’t say anything. He already knew that. He knew Grover already knew that, which meant Annabeth too. Despite that, Grover kept up a steady chatter of theorizing how Ogygia and their empathy link worked, and he rambled long enough that Annabeth started to tense up with impatience and the Big House came into view. Finally, she snapped, breaking into the conversation when Grover paused to take a breath.
“What happened in the volcano? You told me you’d be right behind me, and then I got out and the whole place went up.”
He hissed as his bad leg caught on a rock. “Uh. Well, I kind of tried to get some water, to fight the Telkhines. And then boom, ya know?”
Their destination was so close, he just had to stall for a few more minutes. He didn’t have to tell anyone anything until he at least finished at the infirmary. Chiron said so.
Annabeth exhaled loudly. “You summoned water into an active volcano? Why would you do that?”
He swallowed. “You know me. I was a little outnumbered, you know. Figured I could just hit them all with the water quickly.” God, he sucked at lying.
Grover, who had to be feeling his wonky emotions through the link, especially with how frayed Percy’s control already was on his feelings in that moment, blurted, “That makes sense! So, I’m guessing the voyage between the mythic realm and us took you about a week. Annabeth, what are your thoughts on the time differential there?”
“I have no thoughts on the time differential.” This was a train-wreck of a conversation. “Percy, that still leaves you a whole week before that. What were you doing on the island?”
It sounded like she was accusing him of just sitting around and lazing about while the rest of them went on with the quest. Isn’t that what you were doing, though? Being a gullible idiot and waiting patiently for the boat you assumed she’s let you leave on? Consuming food and drink she used to overpower you on your own accord? Blabbing your secrets out and making naive assumptions?
“Percy? Percy!”
He blinked. Cleared his throat. “Well, I was a little injured after the volcano. Took me some time to heal up fully.” Lie, lie, complete lie. He wondered if she could see his face heating up like a neon sign. She was staring at the side of his face.
“And Calypso? What was she like? There’s so many accounts of her in the mythos-”
“She was cool. Totally normal. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. She healed me, like, immediately.”
“I thought you said it took you a whole week to heal. Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you;re not fully healed. Why didn’t she help with your leg? And what was all this blood from?”
He felt a wave of panic. “This happened later.”
“Later where? On the boat?”
“You know me, clumsy clumsy.”
“You’re lying to us,” she accused, voice cold. He didn’t like that tone of voice at all. He arm around his back started to feel like a vice grip, like she wanted to shake the truth out of him before she let him go.
“Say, Annabeth,” Grover cut in too loudly. “Why don’t you go let Tyson know Percy’s back? And I’ll get him up the stairs here.”
He held his breath, watching the stairs looming before him and refusing to meet her gaze to insist otherwise. Finally, she bit out coolly, “Fine. If that’s what Percy wants.”
He swallowed, still refusing to look at her. “That sounds good to me.”
She dropped his arm none-too-gently and spun around, stalking away without another word.
Percy exhaled loudly.
“. . . Dude,” Grover said.
“Don’t start.”
“You can’t just keep this from her. And we can’t pretend I didn’t hear that in the dream. That she-”
“Stop. I’m not doing this right now.”
Grover patiently helped him up another step, standing in place as he swayed and corrected.
“Fine,” the satyr conceded. “But you have to talk to someone about it. It doesn’t have to be me.”
Percy scowled. He was back, and he saw absolutely no point dredging up everything from the island again.
“There’s nothing to talk about. Calypso did heal me. She also captured me for a little bit, but I’m out now. Everything’s normal.”
“Percy.”
“And obviously, I was a little out of it. I’m sorry about attacking you in the dream. I truly am.”
“Percy, that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
Nope.
“Thank you for the rescue, obviously. I don’t know how long I would’ve ended up stranded there without the empathy link.”
“Percy, this is a big deal. You can’t just push it under the rug and hope for the best.” He grit his teeth. “Look, trauma-”
“-Stop. I said no,” he snapped, roughly pulling free of the satyr. He swayed dangerously on the edge of a step, then grabbed onto the banister for dear life. He leaned over it, refusing to turn and meet Grover’s gaze. For a minute, neither of them spoke, Percy watching the dwindling crowd at camp, the torchlight mingling with the last dregs of daylight and how it seemed to cast a grey glow over everything.
“Alright, Percy. I won’t make you. Take a deep breath.”
He felt a warm hand on the back of his shoulder, patting gently. He took a deliberate, deep breath in.
“I’m fine.”
Grover didn’t say anything in response. He just helped him up the last couple of steps and into the infirmary.