If this chapter is late, it's because the site wasn't uploading the document. Also, blame the Avengers 4 trailer. I was… not on top of things.

Recap: Percy, Rachel, and Harry have bracelets that bring them back from the dead, aside from granting them other powers. Harry and Rachel are twins. They were separated (not at birth) after Lily and James were killed. Rachel was adopted by the Dares. Percy and Harry met when they were toddlers. They've known each other all their lives. Rachel and Percy dreamt each other up as imaginary friends, years before actually meeting.
Sally is pregnant. Sirius is in a coma. Rosalie and Remus help look after Harry and Sally. Nico ran away before the funeral. (He'll be back.) Camp is going to war. Hogwarts is shut down for the foreseeable future. Harry is home-schooled by the Order members.

Warning tags for the story: Canon-typical violence (minor character deaths), a character in coma, stressful pregnancy, underage drinking, swearing, children in war.
Warning tags for the chapter: Mentions of depression, catcalling, underage drinking.

It is summer, 2013.

Listening to: So Say We All by Audiomachine

It had been a last minute decision to join Rachel Elizabeth Dare on her Caribbean vacation.

Percy Jackson had had a disturbingly choke full schedule for months, what with camp's new war updates, the training and preparation, stressing about his mom's pregnancy, every day worn to the bone with just news about the upcoming battle.

Because there was no way there wasn't going to be a fight. It was August 14th already. The Jackson household was stretched to the max with nerves and hormones. Percy was too jittery to show up to camp without a confident stride in his footsteps, and Sally was four days overdue. That baby probably knew what was happening in the real world and did not want to come out.

It was hard to tell who had cried more over the weekend. Percy tended to cry when he saw his mother tear up, and Sally cried at the drop of the hat these days.

It was Rosalie's idea to separate the two. She would be taking Sally to Scotland, where her house lay right outside a small township. Sally would find it peaceful hopefully.

And Percy got to go to Punta Cana on the insistence of everyone who had been keeping an eye on him.

Awesome.

He was in the passenger seat of Rachel's red Maserati. She cruised along the highway with one hand on the steering wheel, the exact way her father had told her not to.

Percy wore a white t-shirt over blue denim shorts. He had his shades on, head tilted upwards to feel the slanted sun rays of the morning along with the winds. The top was down and if Percy closed his eyes and daydreamed, he could imagine being on a powerful, well balanced rollercoaster.

Rachel drove in a reckless fashion that resembled Harry on his broom. The sleek, shiny red paint of the car did nothing to diminish the apparent speed they were at.

Percy said, "We're not racing anyone, Rach. Wanna slow down?"

She raised an eyebrow. Like him, she too wore shades. She had a white, unbuttoned shirt over her swimsuit, with her hair tied up into a messy ponytail. Percy had no idea why it looked like she was about to go swimming in the ocean. He knew that she had plans to lay on the beach all day, may be go for one of the fun tourist activities.

Her parents had brought Rachel, Percy, and Harry to the islands for a small getaway. Percy knew Rachel had hoped that the five of them could spend a few days at the beach. But her parents had gotten calls all morning and her mother had to actually take a conference call. Her dad had let her drive the car to alleviate her annoyance.

"I just got my leaner's permit here, Perce. Let me fly."

There was a snort from the back seat. Percy didn't even have to look to know that Harry had rolled his eyes.

Rachel was driving them from her family's ostentatious beach house to the town and back. They'd had brunch at a small café and were heading back to the beach for some quality time with the sun, sand, and sea.

After manoeuvring around an elongated turn, Rachel slowed down to a stop at the signal.

"The view is gorg," she sighed, looking past the road to glance at the sea in the distance. Percy felt his shoulders slump, relaxing at the sight. Past the East coast of the Dominican Republic was the vast stretch of the Atlantic Ocean. Percy could feel the blooming life underneath the surface where thousands of little fishes resided. They were brave to stay so close to coast where humans lived.

Another car drove up to them, stopping on their right. Percy barely looked over and held in a groan.

In a black Convertible were four guys, loud and college aged. An unwanted combination. They looked like tourists too, simply out for a good time.

One of them glanced over at their car and hollered, "Nice legs, babe!"

Percy glared at them. Harry, who was in the backseat, had been lying down for the drive, his legs propped up on the car door. It was the first time in a long time that he'd worn less than full clothing.

Before Percy could yell back, Harry sat up in his white plaid shirt, narrowing his eyes at the four men. All of them fell silent when they realized that they had, in fact, not hooted at a girl.

"Thanks," Harry said, his voice like steel. "I worked my arse off to get these legs just so you could ogle at them."

The driver huffed, bursting into a short lived laugh. The others grumbled. Rachel cackled like a witch and slammed on the horn to startle the men. Then she accelerated, leaving the Convertible behind.

"Sorry about that, Harry," She called out.

"Urgh," He said, bringing his legs down to recline against the headrest. "They could have at least complemented my lipstick. It's the first time I'm trying red."

"No," Percy said, shaking his head, wide-eyed. "You don't need compliments from strangers."

"I dunno. The driver was cute."

"Harry."

"What?" He complained, kicking Percy's seat to jolt him.

"Hey!" Rachel barked. "No kicking my car! And Percy, don't tell him what to do. You know, he's gonna go ahead and do it."

Percy shook his head, feeling his heart slow to a calmer pace and they pulled into the garage of Rachel's beach house. The two story-ed house was painted white and brown with artistic green designs over the walls facing the ocean.

They stepped onto the porch, relishing in the cool of the shadows before walking in.

"Mom?" Rachel called out, swinging her shades around. "We're going to the beach. Coming?"

Instead of Beatrice Dare, it was Patrick who answered, "Sorry, Rachel. She just stepped out twenty minutes ago."

Rachel's dad was a tall and lean man, slightly greying blonde hair and a face with wrinkles that was prominent only when he frowned or smiled. Percy noticed that he had worn a pressed shirt and a tie over his corduroy trousers.

"When will she be back?" Rachel asked.

"Probably tonight. She's in the city for a call with the Board." Patrick looked apologetic, but Rachel frowned. "She promised that she'll be back in time for tomorrow's paragliding session."

"Great." Rachel's enthusiasm dimmed as she trudged towards the balcony.

Percy and Harry shared a glance just as Patrick whispered, "Look, I'm on call here too. Could the three of you just spend the day by yourselves? I'll order in for lunch and dinner. And something for the evening. There are some things going on right now."

"Sure," Harry replied. They watched as Patrick grabbed a laptop that had been propped open on the table in the dining room, and run up the stairs.

Percy sighed. "Any ideas?"

"She wanted to tan on the beach, I think," Harry suggested.

With a snort, Percy said, "Neither of you can tan. Your freckles come out and she goes from white to sun-burnt in minutes!"

"We can pretend." Harry pushed at Percy's shoulder, walking towards the balcony. "You can tan, we can stay under the umbrella, how's that?"

Rachel mumbled, but agreed about sitting on the sand for a while. Harry went into the kitchen to bring the ice box of cola cans and water. Percy helped her get the mats and her grand, super large umbrella, which Percy expected had a small three-blade fan in it.

They walked a bit away from the house and found a good spot away from the small crowd of snobby elites who Percy wanted nothing to do with. Rachel spread the large sheet over the ground, thirty feet away from the water line, while he fiddled with the umbrella.

"Hey, after your fake sun bathing, you wanna do something?" Percy asked, hoping to distract her.

"Um… what's there to do?"

"There's ice cream," Percy pointed out to a small, colourful stall in the distance. "See there? That's a vendor. I bet they have blackcurrant. Over there's the banana boat ride, a horse multi-carriage, or you wanna go yacht sailing -"

"Nothing with other people." She rolled out the mats over the sheet and sat down with a defeated sigh. Her Familiar, Bolt, leaped out of her neck, materializing into a solid form that resembled a Cocker Spaniel puppy.

"Theeeen… let's just go out into the water. I'll make it calm, no big waves."

"I can't get this one piece wet."

Percy planted the umbrella into the sand above the mat and looked at Rachel. "What's the point of the swimsuit if you can't go swimming in it?"

Rachel placed a hand on her hips. "The colours, duh. Have you ever seen the perfect red and yellow combination without it searing your eyes?"

"I prefer grey." Percy muttered, but Bolt heard it, which meant Rachel heard it as well.

"If you're talking about that dull, old bikini of Annabeth's – "

"It's not dull! It's perfect! I mean… I've never seen her in it. I mean, she's never worn it around me… I've just seen it like once… in her bed. When it was on her bed, I've never been on her bed!" Percy shouted.

"Dude! Relax!" Rachel yelled. "Breathe, man. I'm not judging."

"There's nothing to judge," Percy sniffed.

Rachel tilted her head towards him with a knowing smile. "You know I talk to Annabeth, right?"

"Wh… what?" Percy squeaked. "You talk to her about swimsuits?"

"Just about stuff. I don't know if you know this, but that girl is in dire need of a wardrobe change. I get that you guys have an endless supply of those orange t-shirts, but I'm pretty sure you're allowed to wear other clothes too."

"The t-shirts help us differentiate between campers and rogues," Percy said, sitting on his mat.

"What if a rogue infiltrates the camp and wears that? You'd just believe them?"

The conversation went sour immediately. Percy tried not to glare at her. "That's not right."

"Sorry," Rachel said, looking abashed. She leaned back to sit under the umbrella. "How's things over there?"

Percy was surprised it took her two days to cave. Rachel usually went straight to the point within minutes, seconds if necessary. But she'd staved off from the topic of the looming threat of the Titans for a good while.

Rachel was clearly hesitant. She knew the talk wouldn't be sunny.

"We're training every day," he answered. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of Luke, wondering what the rogue demigods were doing with all the monsters that were preparing for battle.

"What about the gods?"

"That's complicated. Many of the minor ones switched over to the Titans. The Olympians never gave them their due credit, especially over the past few centuries."

Rachel nodded. Percy looked over to the ocean, wishing Harry would hurry up with the drinks.

"Have you heard from Nico?"

Her question shattered the peace he'd been floating on. The strain was back. Percy felt his heart thump heavily, almost painfully against his ribs, as though he were in motion.

He whipped his head around, looking over the surroundings. It was almost like someone had been watching them.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked, sitting up. Bolt raised her head, sniffing.

"N… nothing. Just nerves. I haven't heard from Nico."

Percy pulled out his phone. It was only for emergencies, so he'd not used it since the night he'd spoken to Annabeth that he'd be staying with Rachel's for a while. She had been all for it, even though he knew it had taken her a lot to be positive.

Percy should have stayed at camp. He couldn't be here, not when it was so close to his birthday, so close to the war. The ocean was right in front of him, beckoning him home.

"… eaming?"

"Huh?" Percy jerked his head back. Rachel had been saying something but it had gone over his head, "What?"

"You zoned out," she said. "Is it the heat?"

"Um… yeah, I'll get ice cream. You like blackcurrant, right? I'll get Harry a treacle tart cone if they have it. Be right back."

"Percy!" Rachel pulled on his hand, but he yanked it away. He could feel his fingers shake. His throat went dry and he swallowed uselessly.

"I'm fine! It's… do something for me, Rach."

"I… what?"

Percy looked over to the house. Harry wasn't out yet.

"Whatever you do, don't let Harry come to New York," Percy whispered. Rachel pressed her lips together.

"It's too dangerous. I don't want him anywhere near the fight. You too, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel said. She had a look of worry, almost pity. Percy stood up and turned away but she raised her voice to catch his attention.

"You know, that might not work that way? That bracelet of yours. If you're in danger, Harry's going to appear there, no matter what anyone does."

Rachel stopped talking when Percy glared, but he wasn't angry at her. She was right. If Percy did get beaten in a fight, his armlet would bring Harry there to save him. It was the same the other way around. They hadn't tested that theory with Rachel, but it might work that way for her as well.

"That's not exactly it," Percy explained. "The armlet would bring him to me only if I'm a second away from death. Which means I shouldn't reach that point. Whatever I do, I need to have the upper hand in every fight."

Rachel grimaced at whatever alarming expression he was showing, "You're scary when you look like that."

Percy forced a smile for her. "No worries. You'll be safe here. I'm not bringing you or Harry into a battle. Blackcurrant?"

He flicked a fringe of hair away from her forehead. Usually, that act would have her batting his hand away with a snap, but Rachel didn't do anything other than simply look at him, upset. Percy walked towards the ice cream stall, his thoughts swimming around in the whirlpool of his mind.

When Harry Potter had made the decision to wear beach clothes at the beach, he hadn't done it out of blunt masochistic tendencies.

Ever since December, he'd been quite sensitive to people around him. He'd been talking to his therapist, Mantis, about it. Albus Dumbledore had been instrumental in that. Now, he had a potion necessary every day before breakfast, to reduce the touch sensitivity and pain he'd get from any form of skin contact.

Harry had been the happiest with that decision. It was no sleeping potion, but this at least helped him get through the day without dressing up in several layers of clothing. It wouldn't be a proper vacation without casual clothing.

This was the first time in months that he could sit down and not feel useless. Because every other time he'd sat down, Harry knew he could spend time helping the Order and Aurors with all their jobs.

He wasn't allowed to join the Order. But since Sirius was in a bloody coma, all his tasks, the plethora of jobs he'd had behind the curtains were things Harry could sit in one spot and do. Searching through old books, looking through documents, helping with runic observations because he knew the basics of Ancient Runes. As Sirius's primary beneficiary, concerning his will and all assets, many things that required the man's permission had to now get Harry's attestation. At sixteen, Harry had already applied for emancipation. The Ministry had agreed, Sally, Rosalie, and Remus had been hesitant, and the Weasleys had disagreed.

But his guardian had signed off on it, so… Harry was mere weeks away from being officially recognized as an adult citizen.

Awesome.

A while back, Sally had been able to convince the Order to give him some space. She'd worked some kind of debating magic on them. That was how Harry was in the Caribbean right now, on the Coconut Coast, in the kitchen of a large beach house, searching for water bottles because all he could find in the portable ice box where coke cans.

Was coke even supposed to be cold? Where was the water?

He looked through the fridge again, checking both doors before turning his attention to the shelves that decorated an entire side of the kitchen.

The first shelf didn't have water, but before he could shut its little door, Harry spotted two small bottles made of white plastic. They looked like the kind muggles stored small pills in.

Harry pulled the small bottles closer to read their labels. The first one had a scientific name that was seven syllables long. Harry turned the second bottle around and could see a sharp print of two letters 'E-V' engrained on the cover. 'Equi-Voque' he read.

"Yes?" Patrick said from behind Harry, and the wizard nearly leapt into the air.

He dropped the bottles back on the shelf to turn around and face the man.

"Er… I was searching for the water bottles. There's none left in the refrigerator." Harry said, wishing his voice didn't sound like a mumble. He cleared his throat.

Patrick's arms were folded, body stiff, face in a frown. His gaze were trained on Harry, blue eyes flashing. Harry had the sudden urge to throw up a shield against him.

"I used the last chilled water," Patrick said. "But there are some bottles in that cabinet by the window. Store them in the cooler for a bit."

Harry blinked. "Right."

Patrick smiled. It was so disarming that Harry had to grapple with himself to calm down.

"I'm a little private about my meds, Harry. If you don't mind…" He nodded towards the medicines that Harry had been checking.

He immediately shut the shelf door to conceal the bottles and hoped he wasn't flushing. But the thing was that Harry had expected the drugs to belong to Rachel. He knew she had some pills prescribed to her by a muggle doctor who had no knowledge of magical abilities.

"Sorry," he said. Harry turned and walked towards the cabinet to take out some packaged drinking water. He could feel the uncomfortable silence stretch underneath the sharp stare.

"I have a question to ask, Harry," Patrick spoke up, just as he placed the bottles in the ice box. Harry watched as he walked forwards at a slow pace. The air felt stuffy, the heat from outside, somehow filtering into the unclear situation.

Harry said, "Sure."

Patrick nodded, sparing a smile. "Do you drink?"

"What? Uh, of course not. That's crazy!" Harry blurted, immediately thinking of the previous night when he and Rachel had broken into the Dares' alcohol stash and had polished off a Talisker.

Harry couldn't keep up the eye contact and immediately looked down at the cooler on the kitchen platform.

"Good," Patrick sounded like he didn't believe him. "Because I would hate to think that a minor would have gotten close to that stuff. We have some, you know. There's a liquor cabinet right above the TV."

Harry nodded again. There was a lump in his throat. Patrick took another step and placed a hand on the counter, beside the cooler. He gave a sigh.

"Harry, there are other ways to process grief. Healthier ways."

So, the man didn't know that his daughter had ever had a drink. Did he think Harry alone had emptied an entire bottle?

"Yes… it's just…" Harry cleared his throat, looking up. "Talisker's pretty delicious."

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "True. But… I'm serious now, Harry. Please, no more drinks. I don't want you to spend this vacation drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not now. And that's good. I won't inform your guardian of this, if you promise to not go anywhere near that cabinet. Do you understand me?"

Patrick's voice was clear and practically authoritative, but it didn't feel condescending in any way. Harry felt a little berated, but agreed, "Yes."

Feeling the jitters under his skin again, Harry picked up the heavy ice box off the counter.

"Medication isn't bad, Harry," Patrick said, looking more concerned than annoyed. "Are you on anything?"

"I have some stuff, yes. My… therapist suggested it."

Any reservation that had cropped up about Patrick Dare disappeared when the man looked sympathetic for him. "That's good. Does it help?"

"Yes."

Harry wanted to escape the conversation, though. He could tell that Patrick was trying to relate to him. As far as he knew, Rachel's dad hadn't suffered any traumatic moments, but he couldn't make an assumption like that. May be he was just…

"People are here to help. I'm glad you have a good support system to confide in." Patrick stood straight, his smile widening. Harry thought it looked fake.

"What do you take the meds for?"

The question spilled out without thought. Harry was mortified and scrambled to retract the incredibly personal query –

"Clinical depression," Patrick said in a matter-of-fact voice.

Harry gaped at him. Patrick did not look depressed. He was smartly dressed in a sunny yellow shirt, tucked into deep blue trousers. His tie had been loosened not out of weariness, but to simply breathe easier. He looked fine.

Patrick simply blinked at him. "I think Rachel and Percy will be complaining about your tardiness. Go on."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, moving past him.

"It's alright."

Harry hurried out of the house, still feeling Patrick's eyes on the back of his head. He felt affronted to ask the question, but a part of him had been curious. During his sessions with Mantis, the topic of depression had come up. It was an unpleasant thing to think about. Harry didn't think he had that, but Mantis had suggested that he could be diagnosed for other problems.

Don't think about it, Harry told himself.

He stepped down from the balcony, his bare feet grazing the hot sand. The beach wasn't crowded like a regular public beach, mainly because it wasn't one. The beach house was part of a vast interconnected resort of sorts. It was a place reserved for the 1% population.

Harry, Percy, and Rachel had spent yesterday morning snickering at the snobby people who came from 'old money', spectacularly fail at golf, because Harry kept banishing the ball away from the holes. Rachel had assured him that it hadn't been mean-spirited in any way. Percy had had a great amount of fun pointing out how superstitious people could get no matter where they was in life.

Harry spotted the dark green sheet spread out below Rachel, as she sat alone on one of the mats. She looked sombre and Harry searched the vicinity for Percy.

"Is he out for a swim?" Harry asked, setting the cooler beside Rachel.

"Hmm? No, he's gone for ice cream."

"But I just brought the coke."

"I think he needed some alone time," she said, sitting cross legged in the shade of the twice large umbrella they'd brought. Harry sat on a mat to her left and looked out at the ocean.

"Your dad knows I've been drinking."

Rachel whipped her head around to blanch at him.

"He doesn't know about you. Don't worry."

"Shit! What did he say? Was he angry?"

"He was annoyed. But he's giving me a chance. No more night time drinks."

Rachel dropped her head back with a groan. "Damn. I really could use one now."

Harry frowned. "What happened?"

"Percy… he's getting all nervous about the fight." She twiddled her thumbs, "He had this look that just made me want to stay out of his way."

Harry looked down and rubbed the back of Bolt's neck. "That's not out of the realm."

"Yeah. I was enjoying these few days. It was fun not thinking of the real world," Rachel sighed and looked over to the length of the beach. Harry couldn't see where Percy had gone to, but it was her pensive expression that kept throwing him off.

"You're still coming over for training?"

She huffed. "Yes! Gods, why does everyone think I won't?"

Harry shrugged, "Because, you're not a big fan of exercising. That and people are scared of the bracelet."

Rachel raised her hand to touch the bracelet on her upper left arm. She grimaced as her fingers ran over where the metal touched the skin. Harry saw her nails scratching at it.

"Stop that. It's not going to help."

"I know. I know that. It's frustrating."

Harry tilted his head, "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's… the visions are getting kinda overboard – " Rachel was cut off when Percy ran up to them. Harry looked up, surprised that he hadn't even seen where the demigod had jumped in from.

"What's wrong –"

"I need to go!" Percy panted, tossing a tub of chocolate ice cream to Rachel. "Malcolm just called me!"

"What happened?" Harry said, kneeling up, ready to stand and go with him.

"You're staying here!" Percy snapped. "A mission went bad. I mean, it worked, but it went… Phoebe died."

Rachel inhaled and Harry's mind blanked out. Someone died?

"The Hunter?" Rachel whispered, stunned.

"Yeah. Thalia had run into Luke. Well, not Luke, the Titan. It ended in a fight. They managed to blow up Princess Andromeda, but…"

Percy muttered something in Ancient Greek that the other two didn't understand. "I need to go see my dad."

And there we go! This is the second last instalment of this series. It will cover the Second Titanomachy and the Second Wizarding War against Voldemort. And will set off the fight against Gaia. It's not going to be anywhere as long as 'Power'. Don't worry. And stay tuned! This chapter was a mild start, we'll get to the action quickly.

Cabba.