Hoo, boy. It's been a long, long time since I made this story the first time around - and I cringe every time I think about it. I'm doing my best to clean it up, one chapter at a time, and that means a lot's gonna change. The main things'll stay the same, but I just can't continue to write the way I used to - which, believe me, is a blessing. Keep in mind that since I'm in college now, this'll take quite a bit of time, but the contrast between "cleaned up" chapters and the original will be glaringly obvious. Bear with me.

The sharp gasp and creak of her bed was easily swallowed up by the bustling city below. Although her window was open midway, the early September air did little to relieve her cold sweat – clinging to her skin enough to make it difficult to pry herself from her sheets, hair plastered against her face and back. A shaky palm reached up to shove her bangs, at least, aside; she clutched at her hair for a moment, closing her eyes to will the dizziness away. Audrey was leaning over in an instant, though, to snatch a well-worn notebook from her nightstand. She couldn't help but grimace at her chicken-scratch handwriting, but that didn't hinder her speed in the slightest.

Sun high → past noon
Heavy metallic smell
Quiet
Trees

Not very helpful to the naked eye, to say the least, but relevant for the ones that mattered; with a scene so hellacious, she could only hope it was a nightmare – and only a nightmare. Given the familiar vague, disjointed quality, though, hope was about all it would amount to. Her pen hesitated above the paper, closing her eyes once more as if battling a migraine before it even began. After some debate, she refused to write down what she'd seen mere feet from her – crumpled on the ground like limp, debased mannequins. She doubted even a lengthy shower could wash away her anxiety, but it could at least do something with the persistent sweat – her mom's shrill "IS THIS SWEAT OR DID YOU –?" could attest to that.

"SWEAT, MA!"

"IT'S OKAY IF YOU – "

"SWEAT."

There was a pause before her mother yelled once more to confirm it was, indeed, sweat; Audrey had to at least admire her bravery to sniff-test her sheets. It wasn't necessary for her to handle them in the first place; only daughter of a single mother, she'd always been fairly self-reliant. They worked four jobs between the two of them – the more rewarding of her mother's two often called her away, and if nothing else, she could keep her calls at only twice a day knowing her seventeen-year-old had things under control in her absence. If Audrey had it her way, she'd cut school out of the equation entirely, but she'd never hear the end of it – blah blah "you're so gifted," blah blah "better future than I had"…

Granted, she wanted to cut school for a completely different reason today. The more she pondered her dream – potential warning – the more it occurred to her that the only reason she'd be in such a dense, forested area would be for the class trip they would be taking that very afternoon. In some ways that assured her, as her self-coined déjà vu dreams had only happened well in advance before. Even so, it nagged at her so much that making breakfast for the two of them became almost impossible; there was something about it that had struck her as being urgent, as if it was given to her for a specific reason. She could feel her mother's penetrating gaze – no doubt she'd mastered it from Audrey's grandmother, a shrewd Greek woman who was only brought up when her mother was incredibly frustrated (most frequently over the story of her schoolyard sweetheart, chased away by the disapproving matriarch), generally before or after a cursing of Audrey's father; he was apparently to blame for everything from their too-small apartment to global warming.

"You wanna talk about it?" Alena finally asked, carefully and with all the tact of an observant mother. She was well aware of these dreams that plagued her daughter, although she very rarely said much on the matter – not that she treated them as a common occurrence, either.

"Not really. It was just a nightmare this time." The pause said otherwise, but fortunately the eggs were finally done – and given their schedules, there was only enough time to scarf their breakfasts down. The rest of the pauses between bites were dedicated to Audrey's own routine Q&A.

"Where to this time, ma?"

"Portland."

"Gross. Doesn't it rain there all the time?"

"Rains less than Brazil, at least."

"Why're you so cheery about it? The only things that should be sunny right now are the eggs, the sun's not even up all the way."

"Hey – I don't make the school times."

"It ain't the school times, it's just accountin' for all the time it takes to get there."

"Well, you can thank your father for that – "

"Which one?"

It was hard to tell whether Audrey's retort or Alena's fork against the plate had delivered the stronger stab, but the pause for her mother to eat the rest of her egg seemed to be for her smartass daughter's benefit. But who's fault was it that there had been a revolving door of "fathers" to begin with? It seemed neither woman was committed to opening that can of worms all over again, another palpable silence ensuing as Alena took care of the dishes and her daughter retreated to finish getting her schoolbag together. As per the norm in their household, however, the peace was restored with hearty kisses to each cheek – there was no sense in staying agitated when her mother would be gone for another week.

"Have fun today, alright?"

"Mm, yeah – Be careful, ma."

That morning seemed lightyears away as Audrey sat on the wrong side of a two-way mirror, barely able to shrug off the offer of a paper bag – her shuddering gasps and hiccups were only an embarrassing result of her shock, having gotten out much of her sobbing on her own time from the hospital to the police station. She didn't even want to think about how her face must have looked by then, as she could already feel the mascara caking along her cheeks. There was a shaky sigh of relief once a man finally joined her in the interrogation room – binge watching of crime shows told her the long wait had been in order to make her totally crack under the pressure, and that only pissed her off more. Would the culprit look this hideous afterward? Don't think so.

"Finally – can I go?"

"I'm sorry, but we need to get your statement. Ask you some questions."

Clearly it wasn't an invitation, and she made sure she looked as exhausted and pathetic as possible as he took a seat across from her. He didn't appear particularly moved.

"I know this is hard for you, but you're the best lead we have right now. Could you state your name for the record?"

"Audrey."

"Full name."

"Ugh… Audrey Margarit Leventis-Roberts."

"How old are you, Audrey?"

"Seventeen."

"And you went to the same school as the Barkley twins, right?"

"Huh? … Mm, yeah."

"What do you remember about their murders?"

There was a tense silence, her brows creased in both an attempt to recollect the actual memory and debate on whether to mention her premonition or not. She'd never been in a position to actually tell someone with some authority about them… Her ma had warned against it – but wasn't it better to run the risk of sounding crazy than to give a lame-ass excuse as to why they were dead and she was alive? Audrey let out a slow, weary sigh, lacing her fingers against the table as she stared evenly at him – the smeared makeup was probably doing fuck-all for her credibility.

"… Ya ever have déjà vu, Mister Franco? You're doin' somethin' and suddenly you get this strong feeling that you've done it before… I get that a lot – but I get it in dreams, before it happens. … I had a dream about today." His cynical stare urged her to elaborate, and she ran a sheepish hand through her strawberry-blonde locks as she continued. Her mother was probably right, again. She could already hear the endless "I told you so"'s ringing in her mind, probably from a jail cell.

"I write 'em down in a journal I've got – you search my house and you'd find it pretty easy, and it's jack full of this shit. I had a dream about today… I thought it was a nightmare, but seeing as I'm sittin' here with you lookin' at me like I've lost my mind, it's pretty real. I'm no murderer, but I can't help you – in my dream, I showed up and they were already dead… And I can't remember a thing about this afternoon 'cept for that."

Franco seemed to not know how to handle whatever sort of testimony he was getting – she doubted it would ever pass on a Law and Order episode. Even so, he didn't seem to outright think she was completely crazy; that was promising, right?

"So what you're telling me is you had a nightmare this morning, went on this little field trip, and next thing you know you're in an ambulance."

"Yeah. Said I had a panic attack or somethin', I'unno. But hey – a killer wouldn't do that, right?"

He glided right over that one, rising from his chair with slight bravado. "We're gonna get you tested for any gun residue on your hands – "

"And then I can go?"

"You can go. But not home – I'm relocating you for a bit in case the perp's lookin' for you. Even if you are giving me this psychic bullshit, you're our best lead."

"Hey – can I at least call my ma?"

Audrey ultimately complied, but certainly not quietly. The entire car ride was littered with her unwarranted comments, and she found some sort of delight out of watching his knuckles grow whiter and whiter against the steering wheel. "Damn – no phone call to my poor old lady, no 'good job on passing that gun residue shit, Audrey'… If I'd asked for a lawyer, I bet you woulda denied me. And by the way, since when did witnesses get 'relocated' for something like this? They were a couple'a kids, this wasn't a goddamn mob hit. And another thing – your tie SO doesn't match, it's been buggin' me all night – "

"For Chrissakes, exercise your right to be silent for a while," Franco finally snapped; she decided her work was done, falling silent with a small smirk as he continued to fume as quietly as possible in his seat. Partially because they both knew she was right – she'd seen enough crime shows to know witnesses were very rarely valuable or reliable enough to be put under protective custody to this degree, and that was usually reserved for instances with kingpins and fat Italian guys with ugly cats. Definitely not whatever the hell this double-homicide was about. Something was up, and it nagged at her incessantly – the top of her head tingling with intuition whenever she thought about it. Even so, he had a trustworthy aura; she supposed the badge helped, no matter how much she pretended otherwise.

Eventually they arrived at their location; a set of apartments not unlike her own, and again she wondered how this was any safer. She groaned inwardly as Franco began to take the stairs, knowing good and well he expected her to do the same. She'd never been particularly active in the evening hours – and she saw nothing wrong with that, as that was the time for sleep, damn it all. Here was this cop, a little heavy around the waist and no doubt a fan of Dunkin Doughnuts, and she was the one huffing and puffing once they reached the right floor.

"… You alright, Roberts?"

"Yeah… Phew… Long day..."

"Listen to me – don't cause any trouble for these people, alright? It's only for a few days."

"Do I look like a delinquent to you? Franco, I thought we had something special."

Wisely he opted not to answer, ringing the doorbell instead; she couldn't help but crack a small smile as the buzzing noise traveled along the paper-thin walls, just as they did in her own complex. There was some shuffling and a brief pause before a woman answered the door. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, much like her mother, although the woman's hair was even more unruly than Audrey's own (whereas Ma's always struck her with envy, being so full of volume and yet incredibly straight). Even so, this woman radiated an aura of kindness the likes of which she rarely encountered, and the tenseness in her body almost immediately slackened.

"Sorry we're late – traffic was..."

"It's New York, Detective. I understand," she finished for him with a small chuckle, her smile turning toward Audrey in the same breath. "You're Audrey?"

"Yeah – uh, yes ma'am."

"You can call me Sally," she corrected with a wave of the hand, promptly gesturing between herself and Franco. "Go on in, and I'll be right there with you."

"Sure thing – I'mma go call my ma."

Very briefly was she aware of a third presence, but her gaze was so intently focused on her phone that she paid it little mind. Making small-talk was a small horror compared to the terror of her mother's reaction to all this – especially since her last update had been her admittance to the hospital downtown.

The front door was shut as soon as Percy made his way to the hall, arms folded as if conserving warmth despite the humid September air. Since the whole narrowly-evading-apocalyptic-war excitement of the previous half-year, he'd spent a great deal of his time outside Camp in joint efforts to sift between pure mortals and demigods, an effort in which Franco was a willing participant. Mother and son looked to the detective expectantly, in which he gave a reluctant "Ehh..."

"You wouldn't bring her here if she wasn't – "

"Oh, don't worry, she's something," Franco assured with a hearty chuckle – as if it were some inside joke Percy hadn't been part of. Judging by Sally's stare, neither had she. "It's just a matter of what. You know that double murder on the news? She was there, but she can't remember a thing. Went on about psychic voodoo shit – "

"Wait – what, did you bring her here so we could figure out if she's a half-blood or just… Crazy?" Percy clarified, squinting somewhat both with the attempt to comprehend and the attempt to control his sarcasm.

"Somethin' like that. I'm about… Ninety-nine percent sure she's one of you. … Maybe ninety-eight. Other than the voodoo, she seemed pretty normal – well, not normal normal, but..."

He couldn't help but scratch his head as Franco stumbled over his own words. This guy's part of the justice system. He has a badge and a gun, but he can't string words together… Mixed feelings indeed. His mother really did have the patience of a saint, nodding along with the detective's rambling – then again, she had stayed with his former stepdad for the sheer sake of masking her son's smell…

"We'll see what we can figure out in the next few days, and get back to you. Thanks again, Detective."

"Hey, it's no problem. My son went there for a long time, and I don't wanna think about where he'd be without it… Whether it's the camp or a big, comfy therapist's couch, this kid needs some kinda help."

Once Franco left, mother and son dispersed inside. No sooner had he reached the hall did he hear some distinct, heated conversation going on – and naturally, edged closer to try and listen in. He eventually pinpointed it to the most versatile room of the apartment (first his nursery, then a play room, then his stepdad's "man cave" which was essentially still a play room, now a spare bedroom), leaning towards the door to catch some of the conversation. A good first test, right? She clearly passed, as an older woman's voice could be heard even from his distance from what he assumed was her phone – clearly not talking to herself.

"Ma – hey, Ma, it wasn't my idea – ! … Yeah, no, I'm fiiine. It was some kinda panic attack, that's all. Well – … Well, yeah, I was there. Didn't know 'em that well, but… – No, I can't remember a thing. Just from the dream I – … Well, now you know why I didn't wanna talk about it, you saw the shit on the news. … Yeah? Well maybe I should – Ma, you can't – Dad's got nothin' to do with whatever the hell these – Ma – Ma, lemme finish! … Okay. … Yeah – "

Although her voice had been getting closer, Percy was still caught off-guard once the door abruptly opened. A pair of dark, shrewd eyes were staring at him, sizing him up as if he were the unknown variable here. "Ma, I gotta go. – Yeah. Get some sleep." While eye contact had always been an iffy point for him – he'd gotten much better at it since attending Camp – all that went immediately out the window under her gaze. It was piercing, as if peering at much more than his eyes, and immediately snapped back to a much more normal quality as she inhaled sharply.

"You live here?"

"Huh? Yeah – hey, sorry about that, I just heard..."

"S'fine. I'd do the same thing. You got a name?"

He finally seemed to remember how normal social cues worked, extending his hand for a shake; her grip was firm and hearty, and if it weren't for the obvious makeup smears, he'd be worried with how well she appeared to be taking all this. "Percy – Percy Jackson."

"Audrey. … Hey, don't take the yelling seriously – my mom says it's just The Greek Thing."

"Greek Thing? You're Greek, then?" Clue number one.

She canted her head somewhat, as if a little amused. "Yeah, on my mom's side. We're the only ones that live in the States, actually… Only seen them a few times, though."

"What about your dad's side?"

Audrey paused a moment, flashing a polite smile before jerking her thumb towards the spare room. "Actually, I've had a pretty long day, so… This little Q&A's gonna haveta wait."

He couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment – of course it'd been a long day, if she really was involved in that murder on the news. He stumbled along a couple of apologies, but personally, he believed he'd murmured them a lot more smoothly than Franco could have. Inwardly, however, he was more than a little relieved as she shut the door in his face with a half-hearted "'Night" – she'd sounded perfectly normal in conversation. Not only that, but the slight wince at the mention of her father… He'd had that same reaction more times than he could count. Not to mention already being partially Greek…

Only time could tell.