Percy Jackson is copyright R. Riordan.

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"What is that orange monstrosity and why are you wearing it?" came a voice like heavy sand.

He didn't jump or double-take or anything like that. Didn't roll his eyes either. But whatever a guy looked like when he was thinking Can't he use a phone like a normal person? for the five millionth time, that was probably what he looked like before he set the cooler down on the dock and turned around.

"How long has it been?" he said in what he thought was a pretty good impression of a normal voice. "Six years?"

The newcomer folded his tanned arms over the short-sleeved fisherman's shirt. His tone said I-asked-you-a-question-boy, but there was a smile pulling at the corners of his eyes. He looked the same, which meant he looked older. Back when Percy had been a teenager, he'd always looked like a guy in his forties. Not for the first time, Percy wondered how much thought Poseidon put into his human appearance or if it was like the mist. Did he look like he was pushing fifty-five—a strong fifty-five—because Percy was always expecting someone his mom's age?

"It's a life jacket," said Percy.

"I can tell," answered Poseidon, pointing to the large-print lettering on the sides. "But why have you got one?"

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Because if I take mine off, he'll think he can take his off. It's called setting an example."

Poseidon looked confused for a minute, and that would have made Percy confused if he hadn't figured that—

On cue, there was a loud crash from the end of the dock.

"Nothing broke!" came a shrill voice.

"Good 'cause I'm not covering for you like with your mom's dioramas!" Percy called back. "I swear," he said, turning to Poseidon, "I used to tell him to shout 'I'm fine,' but 'nothing broke' does save some time. To answer your question, I do not know if my son can breathe water and I don't want to find out in the emergency room. Hence, the fashion statement," he said, flicking the life jacket with one thumb.

Poseidon's eyes stayed at the end of the dock, where a small figure was pulling himself out of the smallest boat. Always wanted to climb out himself right up until he wanted to be picked up. Percy watched. His dad wasn't Athena, but this wasn't rocket science. When did you get a kid?

He had to admit, this was a little disappointing. He knew that there were rules preventing Poseidon from showing up whenever he wanted, but he'd used to think that he at least kept track, maybe had a screen set to twenty-four-hour Percyvision in the den or something.

"So you've been out of touch," Percy said, halfway to a question, smothering the implied again. Poseidon might not have Zeus's ego, but Percy doubted that he'd be happy to know that a mortal had presumed to forgive him for something, even if it was only being an absentee dad.

"A bit," said Poseidon. There was more to this, but Percy didn't ask.

"And you didn't get the sacrifices we sent?"

"Ah..."

"So you got them but you didn't read the card."

"That sounds like the sort of thing I would do." Poseidon clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Belated or not, congratulations. I know you've wanted this for a long time."

"It wasn't like we could send a birth announcement," Percy answered. "I was all for an old-fashioned hecatomb right up until I found out what that was."

"Been a while since I had a good hecatomb."

"I can imagine," answered Percy.

"What's his name?"

"Robby."

Poseidon's eyebrow shot up.

Percy folded his arms. "Hey, this may be California but you still do not want to be kid with the weird name. Also, dyslexia in both parents; he's going to have one that's easy to spell."

"So you took him fishing?"

"Not exactly," said Percy, "fishing is actually kind of weird for me."

Poseidon sobered, "Because it's what I do?"

"Uh, more because it's hard to shove a hook through their mouths right after they've asked for my autograph. Besides, at his age, it's fun just to be out there."

"Makes sense. So is it just the one?" he asked.

It took Percy a minute to figure out what he meant. Then he remembered Tyson, Triton, Phineas, Arion, Chrysaor, Janella (who was probably heading to camp right now) and the gods knew how many others through the ages. "Yeah," he said. "More than three of us in one place and all that." His plans for New Rome had been... Well, there were worse things than going to college part-time because you kept having to dodge monster attacks (and work as many jobs as you could handle). There were way worse things.

Years ago, Jason Grace had made a decision; he'd chosen to live as a son of Zeus rather than a son of Jupiter. Since that day, he'd become more wily, less limited by the rigidity that Rome and even Lupa demanded of their devotees. But he was the first to admit that he'd lost something too, a kind of strength. Jupiter had a sense of justice that Zeus couldn't always match.

Percy took in his father's grounded expression, the kindness that was never far from his eyes. This was Poseidon, not Neptune.

The Roman god's blessing had gotten Percy and Annabeth out of Tartarus once. In that moment, he'd been willing to call on any monstrous power from the depths of himself. But if he'd kept doing it, if he'd taken Son of Neptune for his permanent identity, he would have lost too much of himself. He wouldn't be standing here now, with the sun going down into the Pacific, a living ocean that he was content to feel but not command.

There were pounding steps on the dock that stopped short a few feet away.

"Daddy, who's that?"

"Good question," asked Percy. "Who are you today?"

Poseidon shot Percy a look and then asked Robby if he'd ever learned how to bait a fluke hook. Robby looked up at Percy before answering. He nodded, and the discussion of squid guts went on full force.

Raising a kid was messy, and not just in the happy-rainbow spectrum of bodily fluids. Percy'd known about getting pooped and puked on (fun times). What he hadn't been ready for was all the ways a kid could make your heart snort up ooze. Screaming and fighting and even the good stuff could stomp you until you were exhausted. Raising a highly active kid who was literally a magnet for supernatural trouble? He'd felt like he hadn't slept for the first two years straight. But then there were those times when Robby looked at him with his little gray eyes full of trust, and Percy just couldn't imagine how anyone could stand to miss this part.

The visit stretched to nearly half an hour. Percy loaded up the car and made sure everything was squared away. It had been a long day, and he was keeping all ten fingers crossed that there wouldn't be a tired-Robby tantrum in front of the elder god.

It looked like Poseidon really had no idea what had been going on these past few years.

Unless...

"Something happened, didn't it?" Percy asked quietly, switching to Greek. "This isn't normal not keeping in touch. You were actually gone. This was something." And that empty feeling of prayers unheard hadn't been his imagination.

Poseidon looked at him. He didn't need to nod.

In the old days, Percy wouldn't have hesitated. But in the old days, serving Olympus had been his only responsibility. Robby was holding his hand, round face looking worried. He didn't speak Greek, but he knew that was how the grownups talked when something serious was happening.

He didn't say it right away, but he still said it: "How can I help?"

Poseidon smiled. "You chose mortality, Perseus. You cannot help."

Percy looked straight ahead for a moment. "If I hadn't, then the matter with the giants—"

"I know," said Poseidon, a little too quickly, and it occurred to Percy that maybe he hadn't been the only one who'd had something to forgive.

"Anyway, I've just gotten back," Poseidon answered in English.

Percy would process this later, wonder what "just" meant and "back" meant and every other layer in between. He'd feel terrible that he'd been a jerk, grateful that he'd been nice, probably at the same time. But later.

"We going to see you around?"

Poseidon gave a small, sad smile. "Wouldn't miss it."

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