So this was written for a variety of reasons.
A) Everyone's been talking about PTSD among the surviving Argo II members, and I'm getting tired of nightmares being the only thing mentioned- as PTSD is a complex mental disorder (that said, I will not pretend to know everything about it and am totally opened to being educated on it myself if you have a more concrete experience than I do, or just more solid info).
B) While we talk about PTSD we talk a lot about Percy/Annabeth helping each other out, but really I feel like it'd work in more ways than that (that may just be me).
C) Also this story exists for your enjoyment.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters portrayed below.
Evocative
Nothing speaks louder than an evocative photograph that stirs the imagination, tugs at the heart strings and engages the mind.
Mark Carwardine
Bunker Nine was empty. It wasn't even because of the ungodly hour, it was because everyone was sick of working in there after the Argo II building blitz of last year. But Leo, of course, was still held- as counselor- to the responsibility of checking it daily for defaults, accidents, minor fires, break-ins, people locked in as funny pranks, blood, missing blueprints, wildlife migrations, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera- just a day in the life. But of course Leo also went ahead and left his stuff in there all the time. Which meant that he dragged his freezing butt to Bunker Nine to pick up sweaters on a usual basis.
He whistled a song from The Lion King (he and Frank had recently run a movie marathon for Hazel in their most recent desperate attempt to get her back in the pop culture loop).
He unlocked the bunker's doors and shoved them open. They were heavy, and all the funky security features installed for the Argo II's benefits did nothing to help out.
He pushed in and turned on one of the sets of industrial lights on his way in, spinning his fingers and whistling as he headed towards the worktable in the back where he was sure he'd left his hoody.
He froze. The whistling… Bunker Nine was so big, and so empty now that so many of the plans and half-assed projects were being archived and prettied up in the forge… there was an echo.
Guilt immediately overwhelmed Leo. Not because he'd missed the chorus of Can You Feel The Love Tonight, but also because of Echo. The real Echo. The original. The one who hadn't lived on while her manifestations did, the one who'd died without leaving a trace of her nobility…
Leo left the Bunker right then, chills shooting down his back, and headed back to the cabin. He'd simply freeze, he was all good.
Hazel had been giddy all day, so had everyone else in the legion. It was just a good feeling to have a day off.
Of course, Jason and Reyna hadn't been dragged away from their paperwork and duties- not for lack of effort, let it be noted. But Frank, Hazel, Bobby, and Dakota made an okay group to mess around Berkeley with- entertaining, at least.
They walked by a church and Hazel got pushed by a stumbling Dakota. She bumped into a statue at the front- the Virgin Mary. Hazel knew her well enough to recognise the statues nearly on sight. She'd spent enough time at St Agnes' praying to this supposedly saint woman that she nor knew nor believed in, with the nasty nuns looking over her shoulder. Sister Paula, Sister Hattie, Sister Betty… There'd even been a statue in the schoolyard. The schoolyard… it'd had that soccer ball that was deflated but that they kept using, and to avoid classes arguing about who owned it, the nuns had made them leave it in the schoolyard so it got damaged even more…
"Hazel!" Frank had her shoulders in his hands and somehow he caught her right on time. He'd gotten used to watching her eyes and knowing when to step in. That was sad. This happened so often in a place -an era!- where life was supposed to be so promising that Frank had taken it onto himself to know... Gods, how had she managed to drag him into this too? It wasn't fair. The nightmare was supposed to be over, she had a new and improved life. When would enough time have gone by? When could things be nice and normal again? When?
"What?" She asked.
"Don't ditch us," Frank said. He tried to sound cheerful about it, but she'd scared him- no doubt about it. "Come on. You've lived those memories once, no need for flashbacks."
Hazel smiled faintly.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
He squeezed her hand and didn't let go as they ran to catch up with Bobby and Dakota.
Frank jumped. A few kids in the cohort laughed as Dakota stopped explaining the drill to give him a look.
"Sorry," Frank mumbled. This wasn't the first time that he did it. Frank had fallen into a nasty habit of seeing shadows on the ground and looking up to see nothing. He did it time and time again, though it clearly made no sense. There was never anything there, and the shadows came out of nowhere. Maybe he was hallucinating? Who knew. It made his heart race every time. He literally sometimes got startled by his own shadow, or got snapped out of a dream by a shadow crawling over whatever his subconscious was projecting.
But he could always swear that he saw his Grandmother, if not his comrades from the legion, escape her fate and fly away.
Always.
Piper left the counselor meeting in a flash.
Usually people teased her about it. Can't wait to get out of Chiron's sight and to Jason, eh? Or, children of Aphrodite- classic!
But Jason had resumed his duties as praetor now. She literally just ran out of the room, made her way out of the Big House and waited at the door for someone to walk back to the cabins and gossip about the news with.
They were kind of right. She did want to get out of Chiron's sight.
But only because she couldn't stop thinking about other centaurs now. Less kind, more wounded, half-bull centaurs to be exact…
Gods, she hated it. There was such a difference between Achelous and Chiron. Why couldn't her stupid brain just relax and stop making comparisons where none were to be made, and leave certain memories alone in the 'gross, don't want them anymore' file that Piper was slowly filling up?
"Hi Mrs. J!" Emilie said the second that Percy unlocked the door.
"Hi Emilie," Mom replied. Josh, Jordan and Liz all said hello too as they poured into the apartment, dropping their bags. Liz even went into the office to hug Mom, who'd taken to working from home so that she could pick Percy up at school if there was ever a problem. Lately she'd been picking him up a lot.
Sunlight poured through the open windows and made the walls glow. It smelled like chocolate and baking. The apartment floorboards creaked under his feet familiarly. His friends were moving around as Liz actually started taking out her school stuff (Ha. Ha. Ha.) and Emilie tucked her skateboard next to Percy's, out of the way like Mom liked. Home sweet home.
"Smells good," Josh said.
Mom called back, "Leave one of the pans alone and the rest is yours."
By the time that Percy had said hello and yes I had a good day and yes everything was alright, Emilie was already cutting into whatever it was that sat on the pan.
"What is it?" Percy asked as Jordan slammed the cupboard door to produce plates. Jordan was the classy one.
"Brownies," Liz said. "I think they're made from scratch!"
Brownies.
Ichthyocentaurs.
Breathe.
Peach preserves.
Esther.
"Only here, man. Only here."
Atalanta.
Keto.
Breathe.
Sea creatures.
Trapped.
Percy.
Trapped.
"Jackson, I hope that you don't get the feeling that we're only here for your Mom's cooking. We also like you, sort of." Josh teased.
Charlston.
Annabeth.
That's not breathing.
Mark of Athena.
Trapped.
Come on, breathe, stupid, breathe!
Tartarus.
Trapped…
"Percy?" Liz asked sweetly, handing him a plate.
"Percy," Jordan frowned.
He tried to answer. Take the plate. Anything. But he had to focus on his breathing too hard.
"Percy, don't do this to us now," Josh said taking his arm.
Liz disappeared towards the office and Percy's mom reappeared with her seconds later.
"Why don't you guys go pick a movie or something?" She asked. Her hands were closed around Percy from behind. "Or were you here for schoolwork?"
Percy tried to focus on that too. First his breathing, then mom.
"Schoolwork, but it doesn't matter. Movie it is." Emilie said. "I dibs picking first!"
They slid out of the room, trying to make it look casual –gods, Percy loved them for it.
Mom rocked him back and forth for a while and breathed deeply. He latched onto her pattern and buried his head in her shoulder once he'd started breathing normally again.
"I should stick to cookies, shouldn't I?" Mom said pleasantly. "I'm much better with them."
"I'm sure they're great, Mom," Percy said pointing the brownies. She shouldn't have to feel bad. It wasn't her fault. She didn't even know about Atalanta. She shouldn't have to work from home and teach her son how to breathe periodically. She'd done enough. It shouldn't be on her shoulders anymore than it should be on him. They're both done enough.
Mom kissed his forehead.
"I'll make you guys some popcorn. Don't miss the start of the movie."
Taking world religion had seemed like a good idea at first. Paul had taught the course once, she had a very good base of information on several major religions, she needed an open (therefore easier) class to start off her first semester post-Tartarus, and also the opening course on the beginnings of religion and mythology (a.k.a. her very ancestry- hello easiest A+ in the history of Athena's lineage) had been encouraging.
But there were so many projects. This would have been fine, but mostly it meant so many oral presentations. It killed her brain. Those horrible, over-cluttered, useless, ceaseless PowerPoints with chunks of text so clearly plagiarised from Wikipedia (some people forgot to take out the hyperlinks!)… She couldn't stand it. She read while they read off the PowerPoint. Besides, what she was reading was plain and boring and worthless information that had no actual meaning to the context.
Nevertheless, she didn't slouch over her desk. She took it like a grown-up, one who had already seen many horrible PowerPoint presentations and who was used to sucking it up and taking it.
The next PowerPoint was projected on the SmartBoard. Some pictures of white slates of stone with guys killing bulls were copy-pasted onto the boring theme, and the title read Mysteries of the Persians.
Bella awkwardly stood up front with her flashcards until the teacher gave her the go.
"Okay, so," she said. "My presentation is on the Mithraic Mysteries."
Click on the SmartBoard. Nothing happened.
"Double click," someone called out.
She double-clicked.
The slide changed.
"Okay, so the god in my religion is Mithras and…"
Mithraism, the Mysteries of Mithras, Roman Mithraism, the Persian Mysteries- oh gods, it's all the same thing, wake up!
"He's this Persian god that the Greeks –no- sorry- the ROMANS!"
The tunnels underneath Rome, endless as the labyrinth except also layered with dangers specifically set against the children of Athena.
"The Romans started worshipping him. Lots of soldiers."
The weaver has paid us much tribute to destroy any children of Athena who would dare enter our shrine, the pater had said.
Her fingers curled around the corner of her binder.
They were shaking.
The knuckles were white.
Annabeth turned. She slammed against the blocked entrance with all her might, and the bricks gave away. As the cavern of Mithras imploded behind her, she lunged into darkness and found herself falling.
"Annabeth," her teacher said putting down his papers. He rounded desks and moved them, shooing her classmates aside. They all whispered. 'She just fell; she was sitting at her desk ten seconds ago'.
Annabeth managed to get control of herself and hopefully stop looking as if she were having a seizure.
"Annabeth," he said. Her eyes burned. Had she really just done that in front of her entire class? Annabeth had a reputation to keep up and it wasn't 'that girl who passes out during oral presentations'. Gods, it was such a banal thing too... Mithras. It was so small in the scheme of things, how and why had it gotten to her? If even that detail could still get her all reeled up...
"Annabeth," Mr McCoy checked again, pushing other students away from her to give her breathing room. Other voices added cruel punishments and epithets to the names. It wasn't him, but when Mr McCoy leaned in to take her arm Annabeth yelped and pulled back and fell back against the floor with a choke.
"What are you in such a rush for?" Reyna asked.
Jason stopped.
"Nothing," he said.
"Good," she said readjusting the bag of paperwork on her shoulder. "We've been inside all day. Care to walk? Or do you have to go IM Piper," Reyna teased. Count on Reyna to always find something new to tease him about.
"No," Jason said. "Let's go, fresh air will do us some good. Tomorrow's not shaping up to be any better..."
Reyna groaned.
They took a detour to get from New Rome to the fort. It was tricky to take since Terminus was prone to simply yelling out orders about how demigods were out of line (nobody wanted that at this ungodly hour), but they managed. They'd made it an art.
Reyna's head was tilted towards the star. She knew a surprising amount of things about the night sky- constellation, star names, where to look, orientation… From what Jason understood, the result was a mix of time spent with the pirates on The Queen Anne's Revenge 2.0 and also because stars were an indirect and harmless way that Hylla had found to talk to Reyna about her godly heritage on Circe's Island.
"Orion," Jason pointed.
"Can't be, the Scorpion's right there," she said pointing to another ensemble of stars. "Don't go making up lines of stars, you."
Jason grinned.
"Hercules," Reyna said pointing it out.
As for you, my dear, be careful. Sons of Zeus can be… well, never mind.
"Pardon?"
And the moral, my dear? Beware the sons of Zeus.
"Hercules. As in the constellation?"
Just like his father Zeus, flirting with every woman he met…
"Oh."
"I always had trouble finding him, but there he is."
Jason looked up at the stars that she pointed out, her fingers connecting them into what apparently looked like a man if you lived in antiquity.
"Jason."
The worst was that Jason could see it.
"Jason."
He was everywhere.
"Jason?"
"Jason..."
He was everywhere, Jason was only at one place, and so it was so very easy to get lost in the imagery and words from the past.
"Jason!"
"Jason!
"Jason!"
"What?" He asked turning towards Reyna.
"I was talking to you," she frowned.
"What?"
"Jason, I was saying your name over and over," Reyna said, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
"I- no…"
When he realised what had happened, he buried his head in his hands. His cheeks were red and embarrassment flushed through him.
"I hadn't done that in weeks," he said.
"Hey- hey," Reyna said dropping her bag and shrugging his off his shoulder. "It's not a big deal."
"It's only a matter of time before I do that in front of the senate," Jason groaned.
"If you do it doesn't matter."
"Of course it does!" Jason said. "Romans don't get these things. We wake up, don't talk about our nightmares, go back to bed with them- and that's it. It's not supposed to... to follow you."
"Don't beat yourself up on that, Jason. Don't."
"Sorry, I-"
"Don't apologise either, that beats the purpose! You've done nothing wrong."
She rubbed his shoulder. It soothed him. It made him think of the first time they'd established that they didn't hate each other, she'd helped him heal his shoulder with one of Bobby's magic-creation experimental balms. That's what it made him think of. It was as if she were using another trigger to counteract the original, except this one didn't technically classify as one. It was good.
"Thank gods you're around," Jason said putting an arm around her.
"So I've been told," Reyna said.
Arms looped around Annabeth's waist and she immediately knew that she could lean back. One day she may just let herself get abducted in the middle of the night, but for now that always meant that Percy was behind her.
So far she'd always been right.
Arms looped around her waist.
Frank saw something from the corner of his eye, but his attention stayed focused on Hazel's eyes. If they got any more luminous, she'd need to get caught before she passed out. That was where his attention belonged.
Even though Leo didn't know the place and it was possibly highly infested with monsters, the convenience shop outside of camp smelled like cinnamon. He figured he was okay.
Hazel heard the clink of metal.
"Hey you."
She was smiling at Frank even before she turned around completely.
They were all laughing.
Leo, smug at the effect of his first successful pun ever, dangled the cheese from his pizza into his mouth. Piper piled on her share of pepperoni onto Jason's plate, ignoring Percy's pouting. Annabeth smacked Percy when he asked her for her pepperoni. Leo blew out of proportions Hazel's quiet questions to Frank about something in the movie that she didn't understand. Percy and Jason chugged soda and saw who could get more down, as the girls clucked their tongues. Frank and Annabeth brought their attention back to the chess game halfway played on Sally Jackson's living room coffee table. Hazel did Piper's hair in some kind of braid that she wished her hair was soft enough to do.
Something sassy happened in the movie and they all laughed, relaxing the whole group once more.
Seven laughs at once meant that no one was on a solo quest.
Seven laughs at once meant that they were all together.
Seven laughs at once was evocative of safety, fun and family.
Cute ending, bummer Author's Note.
PTSD manifests itself in many ways. One of those ways is panic attacks, which come with very real physical symptoms. You can have trouble breathing or feel like you're choked (like Percy), get nauseous, heart starts racing, get chills or hot flashes (Leo), go into mental stupor (that is- you stop responding to things for a period of time that could range from short to long- that's what happened to Jason), you can get dizzy and even start shaking (Annabeth). Also behavioral changes are noticeable- like avoidance (Piper) or getting distracted. Hallucinations- visual or sensory (like Frank) are not unheard of either, though more on the uncommon side from what I gather.
Bottom line; mental disorders are complicated. They cause real physical reactions, even if you can't see them on an X-ray. If you think otherwise, you have been misinformed and I urge you not to forget the gravity of these. They are also not to be romanticized I personally believe that they can be used in a story, but you cannot make them enviable or cute because they wear you down and suck. Thank you for reading!