Author's Notes: I'll be having exams in Oct/Nov so this edit will be the only update you guys'll be getting in a while! (Never mind the fact that it's only the chapters 1-3 being combined into a longer first chapter with a few major edits.) That's not to say that the new first chapter isn't worth reading- it totally is :) I apologise for not updating this fic when I had said I would but I hope you'll still give this a chance! Onto reading!

It was Saturday when it all started. Of course, Apollo shouldn't really have been surprised with the choice of the day. Great things had come, after all, on the sixth day of the week.

Apollo had been out jogging on his favourite trail down on Earth, in Downtown New York's park. It was snowing and the ground was covered with a light sheet of the white stuff, but what was the perk of being the sun god (or any god at all, actually) if you had to leave the house swathed in layers of cloth and wool. And besides, who was he to deny the ladies their eye candy?

So there he was, wearing a loose t-shirt that hung off his body, though not unattractively, and a pair of well-worn khaki pants in the middle of moderately chilly December. If any mortals saw him, they'd give him a double-take and Apollo silently delighted at the fact. While his kill-joy of a sister would have a conniption at the idea of flaunting their godly powers, Apollo was the younger sibling for a reason (though don't tell Artemis he'd admitted that. She had enough of a holier-than-thou attitude towards him already and he didn't want to give her more ammunition.)

The trail was quiet, with the exception of the soft strains of a rocking music that zipped out of the headphones hanging around his shoulders, and the sound punctuated the blanketing silence of his surroundings. Apollo hummed as a particular note of one on his favourite bands peaked in intensity and pierced through the silence and he mimed striking his electric guitar mid-step, unable to resist but grinning to himself all the same.

"~Shoot to thrill, play to kill

Too many women with too many pills~

Yeah!"

An obvious rustling in the bushes to his left alerted him that he wasn't alone and the sheer surprise Apollo felt at the unpopulated path actually being populated made him falter in his steps, the song lyrics wilting on his lips before he cautiously halted to a stop a second later. He pursed his lips as he reassessed his white surroundings.

The trail he had gone through was a particularly mist-concentrated area, which meant no human would be able to enter without being diverted; several scores more bemused than when they had first tried to enter- unless they had an incredibly single-minded mind or could see through the mist. The reason being was, while Apollo loved attention from ladies and men alike, he needed some peace and quiet too at times. The trail was his favourite simply because the thick underbrush of trees and foliage created the illusion of just that in a busy world that needed a god's constant attention.

His fingers twitched reflexively at the next rustle which was more obvious than the first and sounded further behind him than before. He turned fully then, careful to face the origin of the sound but wary of shooting if it was a mortal and not one of Kronos's evil minions. His hands subconsciously took on a position that made it more convenient for him summon his quiver and bow. The figure of a dark-hued wooden curve started misting into existence in the palm of his right hand and the quiver on his back, full of mute-coloured fletchings.

"Hello?" he called unsurely. He quickly changed the direction his left hand was going; it had been going for his quiver but, at a particularly jarring note that made him flinch, he reached for the button on his MP3 instead. The silence lazily and helpfully ensconced the path again and he retrained his eyes on a patch of bushes that had shifted suspiciously, steadied by the newfound silence. The person in the bushes had been trying to be discreet but such furtive affairs rarely remained so in the presence of a god's eyes. "Who's there?"

Apollo doubted that the interloper was a monster, his senses would have tingled if it were so and there had been no signs of an uprising from Tartarus last he checked. It didn't hurt to be careful, though. His heart beat a little louder than usual, but that was because of adrenaline and not honest-to-goodness fear- he hadn't been truly afraid for a long time.

The bushes in front of him exploded outwards in a burst of displaced snow and rustling protests from twigs that fretted against each other at the movement and, from the whiteness, a figure became more distinct.

At the action, Apollo had taken a single steadying breath then pulled back on his bowstring, an arrow already notched in his fully-formed bow and prepared to let fly. But, when he saw who it was, he accidentally choked on his caught breath.

"Uncle P!" he exclaimed, surprised. He loosened his hold on the string and relaxed his stance. And it did look like it was Poseidon who he had stumbled upon because of the strong resemblance the kid had to his favourite uncle, all tousled black locks, and brilliant green eyes.

Apollo had seen Uncle P take that form once when he'd been riding the sun over a beach and had caught sight of a child emerging from the waves to join a group of other unknowing and equally small children who were building a sandcastle. He'd jolted at the sight and Uncle P had somehow been aware of his presence because he had looked up, squinting at the glare of the sun, and had quirked his usual grin at him before he had flown off.

Something smelt fishy, though (Heh, 'fishy', heh heh.) and his guard was once again piqued when the small human being only stared at him like he was an alien at his words. The kid also looked strangely hunted, like a cornered wounded animal. He flinched when Apollo's bow had started rising again subconsciously in response to his caution returning and the kid's hands shot up, panicky, as though he could dispel the arrow coming his way through sheer desperation alone.

"S-sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't shoot!"

Feeling an acute sense of disquiet- Who was this kid if it wasn't Uncle P? Why was he acting so scared?- Apollo consciously put a stop to the movement and, with exaggerated slowness, he removed the arrow from the arrow rest and replaced it in his quiver. The bow, he calmly relaxed his arm so that it rested unassumingly in his grip at his thigh.

All the while, the kid's suspicious green eyes tracked his movements.

When he finally looked as harmless as he could, he tried to exude trustworthiness with a smile that felt like plastic. The way the kid was acting suspicious and it hinted at iniquitous possibilities that Apollo frankly felt disgusted to have to probe.

"Hey," he said softly, "What's wrong little fella?"

The impression of a cornered, desperate animal intensified. "My mom!" he gasped suddenly, with the air of someone who couldn't believe they had forgotten something that had been crucial. He looked torn between running off again and latching onto Apollo in his panic. Apollo tried to look as small as he could. "Your mom?" he queried.

The kid stared at him distrustfully but his eyes flashed, as though a battle was being waged in his mind- to trust or not to trust? Finally, he looked as if he had decided that Apollo was sincere in his worry and he took a hesitant step forward. Apollo was surprised to feel a cold hand wrap around his own.

Bolstered by his not pulling away, the kid started tugging more insistently on his hand, pulling him in a direction premeditated in his head. Too curious and bemused to argue, Apollo let himself be pulled along, the smaller person increasingly putting on bursts of speed until they were both jogging at a harried pace off the path. His bow and quiver dissipated into smoke accommodatingly, unnoticed by the child.

"Hey kid, where are we going?" he inquired, curious. The smaller person leading him barely gave him a backward glance, as focused as he was on finding a particular trail, but in the distracted gaze, Apollo saw the panic which had still not abated but was being suppressed with a dutiful determination.

"To my mom," he said abstractly before he cut himself off abruptly and their trajectory through the forest changed with a tug of his hand. Their shoes crunched a staccato rhythm through frozen leaf litters.

When the kid next spared him a glance, it was near the break in the trees where, strangely enough, an orange light flickered ominously. The kid gasped at the sight and the sweaty grip which had been pulling him along suddenly disengaged, making Apollo's gait stutter. "What-"

The kid sprinted ahead of him and Apollo finally lost sight of him when he broke through the copse of trees. "Wait! Kid!"

Obligingly, Apollo followed, feeling the sense of unease strengthening with every step he took. The orange light became brighter and the acidic scent of smoke started to fill his nostrils. Oh no… he thought to himself as he too broke through the trees and was greeted by a horrible sight on the other side.

He didn't know what he was expecting when he followed the kid but it was certainly not this.

His little guide stood numbly a few paces away from him and it took what seemed like an age to reach his side. Apollo spared him a glance and closed his eyes briefly in pain at the sight of the kid's pale, pallid face, licks of orange light playing over his frozen expression of abject terror.

The trees had let out into a road that was lined with a neat row of houses. One, in particular, was lit up brightly in orange light and had a gathering of gaping bystanders surrounding it. It was the one that was burning down that the kid was looking at.

It was clear that that was his house, his home, and that something had gone horribly wrong there, but Apollo was clueless as to what it was.

The sound of a beam falling and people's subsequent screaming broke him out of his grim countenance.

"Shite," he cursed to himself then took a few steps forward. He lingered, though, legs itching to move in his urgency, but wanting to confirm his suspicions with the boy. "Your mother's in there?" he asked urgently. The kid quickly nodded.

"I'll try to get her back. Just stay there and don't move-!"

He was a few paces away when his hand was caught again by the same cold, trembling hand that had latched onto him in the clearing. He looked back and caught a glimpse of another mental war being duked out in the expressions of his face- the kid looked torn and his emotions kept fluctuating from hate to something more unreadable. Finally, after what felt like hours, the turbulent green of his eyes became reluctant.

He said, with a manner akin to one whose teeth were being out slowly and painfully, "There's another person inside. His name is Gabe."

Apollo only took the bare minimum time to catalogue the new name and the kid's peculiar behaviour before he was running towards the building at full tilt after shouting a last 'Stay-Put!' warning at him.

Screams of protesting passers -by filled his ears as he bypassed them and a click of his fingers sent a dash of mist to those who were more physical in preventing him from entering.

He bounded into the building.

If there were any time Apollo was glad for his godly powers, it was definitely then. He wasn't any Hephaestus or anything but a sun god's powers weren't anything to sneeze at.

He bypassed the thick smoke with no problem, only covering his face out of habit, and got to work with finding any survivors. The fire brigades' sirens sounded in the distance, but Apollo doubted they'd get here fast enough to save anybody. It was up to him to save the kid's mother. Gabe was secondary and, if Apollo really felt cynical, not required at all. He was a footnote and the attitude of the kid evinced that.

It was only when he knocked down the fifth door when he got lucky.

Amidst the charred furniture and blackened walls, there were two unmoving shapes. The woman was lying face up by what seemed to be the sink while the man lay next to the door.

He quickly gave the room a once - over. It had been a kitchen once, with cheery blue walls and a quaint family table in the middle of the room. Now the blaze had streaked the blue with black claw marks and the orange light danced over melting appliances, casting dark, sinister shadows over the walls. Apollo thanked the gods that the kid hadn't been around to see the destruction of his childhood. Luckily, the room was still comparably structurally sound and he darted over to the woman's side.

"Miss?" he asked briefly, because while the smoke brought no harm to him, it was a different story for humans and this much in one room was deadly," Miss, are you awake?"

There was a terrible moment when he thought the woman had died before he could get to her- no pulse in her wrist, no movement at his jostling. But then her heart gave a sudden lurch and her eyes fluttered open. She started taking choking gasps.

Her eyes, he realised, were a startling turbulent green, like the ocean on a bad day, and they widened at the sight of him.

"Per-cy!" she gasped painfully. Her eyes watered at the sting of the black smoke and she screwed them shut again, but not before Apollo managed to see the agony and pain in her eyes, "Is my son alright?"

"He's alright," he reassured the woman. A part of his mind catalogued the name of the kid. "He's with me. And he's waiting to see you, so just hang in there!"

Her body relaxed at his words," He's- alright?"

"Yes, but you've got to stay with me- stay with me until we get you to a hospital-" or I can get you to a place that's not burning to the ground so I can heal you, he added mentally.

She cut him off with a hand on his, which, he realized with a jolt, had moved to hold her by the shoulders forcefully.

Green eyes met his, and they bore into his soul, making him feel small like he was laying all the good and bad things down on the table for everyone to see. He tensed (he hated feeling like that), but then the woman nodded, seemingly approving what she saw.

Her hands clenched around his, stronger than they'd had before.

"Take care of him," she told him, earnestly, seriously, and before Apollo could answer, her hand went slack and her body finally relaxed.

"Miss?" he asked panickily. His head felt like it was packed with cotton candy because what had happened seemed inconceivable to him. "Miss?!"

No response and no pulse either when he placed his hand on the inner side of her wrist.

Apollo felt like the world had just been pulled out from underneath his feet.

She was dead.

Percy's mother was dead, his father (?) possibly so, his house was burning down, and a wayward god had just been put in charge of his health for future years to come.

Nemesis must hate the boy.

He felt his eyes grow solemn, "I'll try."

The ceiling above them cracked ominously and he was forced to move.

Bending down, he placed his hands on the woman's brow, "May Hades grant you safe passage."

He quickly slipped his hands underneath the woman's body, placing a steadying hand on her neck and another behind her knees then stood up. He barely remembered to give the other body a cursory glance (Dead.) before he was backing out of the room. The woman was a heavy weight in his arms and his chest and, every time her limp arm pressed against him, he felt a mix of sadness and dread wash over him- How was he supposed to tell Percy?

So caught up in his mind was he that it was only when the blessedly cool air brushed over his heated skin and flushed his lungs of smoke that he realised he was outside.

Dazed, he made his way over to where paramedics stood, buzzing together in conglomerate medical jargon. One caught his eye over a stretcher and, while his eyes widened, Apollo was gratified that the one immediately barked out orders to the other idle paramedics, startling them into action. The area became a hive of activity as the woman's body was taken from him and he was asked a barrage of questions that his mind could barely keep up with.

Even as he answered the medic, he heard very clearly the words of the pair of medics who stood over the body on a stretcher. He ignored the person questioning him for a moment to turn to stare at the pair with wide eyes. He hadn't realised it but they'd been trying to resuscitate her, defibrillator charged and posed over her exposed chest. After a few seconds of useless pumping and the only sound existing being the methodical counting of one of the medics, both the action and words ceased and they exchanged regretful looks over the body. The one who'd been counted said quietly in a muted voice. "Dead on arrival."

Apollo left the body with the paramedics and started trudging to the canopy of trees away from the substantially larger crowd. He hadn't realised it but his shirt was blackened, his shorts were scorched, and his hair was sooty. He couldn't find it in himself to care, though; all he felt was a sort of numbness, a buzzing in his head negating any emotions.

Vaguely, he noticed that the fire brigade was there too, their truck's red paint job gleaming grimly in the light of the flames, but they could have been whitewash for all he cared. The shouts of surprise and concern his appearance gathered were muffled in his ears.

Feeling like a leaden weight was in his chest, he made his way slowly to the splotchy, tear - streaked face that was turned up to him in hope. Percy.

"Is my mum okay? Did you put her in the ambulance to help her feel better? Is she awake-?"

Eventually, the questions petered out when no answer was forthcoming and the bright, hopeful face slowly wilted then became crushed. His hands started trembling, as did his upper lip and Apollo steadfastly stared at a spot on his chin instead of into his eyes as they started watering.

His breath started coming in soft short gasps and he shook his head minutely at first before the action gained vehemence and he was shaking his head in fervent denial, eyes bright.

"M - mister? Is my mum o-okay?"

Apollo carefully looked him in the eye and felt his heart break further.

"I'm sorry," the soft words dropped from his lips quietly.

Then Percy was crying, heart-wrenching, broken sobs that shook his frame. The sound of the child's cries pierced the air, an indictment of the cruel, unfair world.

Unable to take the image of the boy crumpling into himself with only his grief keeping him company in his loneliness, Apollo dropped to his knees and gathered him in his arms.

Percy stood rock-still for a second, before he crumbled into his embrace, latching suddenly onto his shirt as sobs wracked his body more intensely. Apollo tucked the head of raven locks under his chin and tried to be the rock to Percy ' s grief.

The mix of emotions in his heart was bitter-sweet. The second - hand grief was threatening to tear his insides to bits, true, but the strange tender and protective feeling that rose up in his chest made him wonder whether this would be how it would have felt like had he not been a god- whether this would be how it would have felt to heal his children's hurts.

A tap on his shoulder pulled him from his rapidly darkening thoughts and he pulled away slightly from Percy to look up at the officer.

"Sir," he said in a brisk, detached manner that matched his crisp uniform and made Apollo's hackles rise at how utterly unemotional he sounded," Is the child with you the son of the woman who died in the fire?"

"Y-" The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but something stopped the rest from coming out. Call it protectiveness, but Apollo didn't really feel that the police would go the right way when dealing with Percy, and besides, his mom did make Apollo his legal guardian. "Yes, but he's also my charge."

He rose to his full height, but while Percy shuffled to hide behind him, pulling out of his hug, and away from the officer's eyes, he noted, with satisfaction, that he didn't remove his grip from his hand.

Said officer blinked. Then waved a frizzy-haired man over.

"Jones," he called out," Is there any listings of any guardians for Mr. Percy Jackson, other than his mother?"

The other man flipped through his notes," Why, no, sir, I can't find any-" Apollo snapped his fingers behind his back,"-Oh, there it is, Fred Solace. He's telling the truth, sir."

The officer gave him a look. "Alright, then, Mr. Solace. Since Ms. Jackson is now indisposed of, will you take the responsibility of accounting for Mr. Jackson's well-being?"

Apollo firmly nodded.

"Right, you'll have to come back with us for a while, sir, after this case is over so that you can fill up the necessary paperwork for the adoption."

"Alright." But then his eyes grew hard, because, while they'd manage to cross that obstacle, they'd now come to the harder part and that was to find out what had happened to the kid's mother (and the other Gabe character.)

"What happened?"

The two shuffled uncomfortably and Apollo felt a sort of vindictive pleasure at making the sociopath officer squirm. He had no doubt in his mind at the moment that his aura was flaring, the result of a combination of the stress of the whole situation and pure anger at whoever had done this to Percy, and that it was causing the two mortals to feel the itch to run. A god's wrath was never pleasant.

The officer cleared his throat, disquieted," We don't know, Mr. Solace. Though the fire brigade has just arrived and the chief tells me the fire wasn't an accident."

His eyes narrowed," So it was started on purpose?"

"Yes, sir, arson. We don't know who started the fire, and why but the forensics will be here soon and-"

"It was Gabe."

The voice was soft, quiet, but filled with a silent sort of anger that burned behind his sea-green irises. They both looked to Percy, and Apollo was suddenly struck with a sense of déjà vu as he remembered how Poseidon looked when he watched some pair of teenagers dumping their trash in the Hudson River. He thought about how Percy had seemed like a Poseidon clone the first time he'd seen him. A feeling of sick foreboding crept up to him, but he pushed it away he pushed away roughly.

"And who's Gabe, Percy?"

If possible, his eyes darkened again, from the dull green of a dead sea to a dark, tenebrous green that spoke of crashing waves and overturned boats. Apollo resisted a shudder.

"My step-father," he spat the word out like a curse," He started the fire; I was there when he did it."

Both men froze.

"Where you hurt?"

"What for?"

Apollo resisted the urge to smack the man for not showing the least bit of concern for the kid.

"My birthday," he said shortly, answering the officer's question before the fight seemed to drain out of him and he sighed, hanging his head low, tears gathering in his eyes," I said something stupid and Gabe didn't like it. He threw me into the wall, but when my mom tried to stop him, he grabbed the lighter that lit my cake's candles up and burned her," His voice quavered," She told me to run and I… I did. I didn't stop him. It was my fault she died…"

Acting on instinct, Apollo dropped to his knees again and hugged the kid, muscles taut and jaw tense at the thought of someone ever hurting the kid, but knowing he had to reassure him it wasn't his fault. He forced himself to stay calm.

"No Perce," he hushed forcefully, glaring at the officer and his lackey to leave now or else over his shoulder, to hell what they were writing. They'd hurt him enough. "It's not your fault! I mean, from what I've heard of this Gabe, he's a real asshat. You probably should be given a medal for not insulting his all these years and he had it coming. Besides, you did help your mom out in the end; you came to me, remember? Found me in the park and dragged me along to help you. I'm really sorry for not being able to save your mom, kiddo. But she knew you were safe and that's all she asks for. Even asked me to help you along to keep on the straight and narrow, and I'll stay forever, kay?"

And no, Apollo didn't think it was a little rash of him to announce that. The kid had just lost his family for gods' sakes! He needed some assurance that someone would stand by him, and even though Apollo had only met the kid a few moments ago, he really felt a sort of bond pulling him to him.

He'd just push aside his godly duties for a while, and ignore the calls Zeus made for him- unless it was really important. Nonetheless, he would be there for Percy where no one else would. He swore on the Styx.

The crash of thunder brought Apollo out of his musings and he realised that Percy had stopped crying and was staring at him with wide eyes, the furtive bud of hope fighting for its existence in his eyes.

"Everyone dies, though," Percy accused, the shadow of distrust hanging onto him stubbornly," Everyone dies like m-mom did."

Apollo thought about the fact that he was a god and immortal. He let the irony color his expression with a knowing confidence.

"I won't."

Someone coughed behind them.

"As touching as this conversation is," interrupted the officer, annoyed at the constant display of affection in front of him," We still have to question young Jackson on some of the deeper details-"

"-I'm sure you're quite done now." Apollo's eyes flashed warningly and he patted Percy's head in reassurance as he stood up again and started to lead him away. He dared the officer to follow him," You have your case, you have your details, you have the assaulter's corpse. Throw it in jail for all I care, but you are done asking questions. My ward and I are going now and you will not be following us and will be forgetting us from this point onwards. Oh, and my adoption papers are already signed and legalised."

The officer blinked questioningly, a hint of anger betraying his true feelings.

"Now listen to me-"

Apollo manipulated the mist to show what he wanted, and the man blinked again, this time in confusion.

"I mean," he slurred slightly, obviously dizzied from the rush of mist he had been subjected to," Yes, sir."

"Inform me of the date of the funeral for Sally Jackson by this number," he ordered, to which the officer nodded absently.

As the man stumbled away to join his own brigade, Apollo let out a sigh of relief and thanked the gods that it was all over.

"Come on, Perce," he cajoled, trying for optimism in these trying times while pushing him gently from behind. "Let's get you to my house."

Luckily, he had a place reserved for such occasions (I mean, not for this sort of occasions because who would've guessed Apollo would be adopting an orphaned kid and giving him someplace to stay?) It was merely a place to get away when his job became too burdensome or Zeus had become too overbearing- his party place on Earth. Up until then, only nymphs, dryads and particularly pretty mortals (male, female, he wasn't picky), had entered, but he guessed he had to change that. Wouldn't do for Percy to suddenly walk into a room to find Apollo going at it. It'd probably scar him for life, and his mom would haunt him from the underworld.

Author's Notes: Don't be shy and tell me what you think of the new chapter! Any suggestions to improve my writing? Thanks for reading!