"A Good Day"
It had been four months since the Giant War had ended. Winter had begun in NYC with a bang just between Thanksgiving and December first, but unfortunately for Percy Jackson, the city rarely shut down for winter weather, which meant that school went on like normal, complete with tests, papers, projects, and all. A couple of other things that didn't stop for snow: Greek monsters and PTSD symptoms.
Though, they had not come out unscathed, everyone was pleasantly surprised by how well the demigods from both camps were handling the aftermath of two back-to-back wars. Everyone was especially happy to note how well Percy, Annabeth, and Nico were managing after Tartarus. That's not to say that they weren't without PTSD symptoms, however. Nico could be easily startled and occasionally had panic attacks where his whole body would shut down, even to the point of not breathing. Annabeth had nightmares a couple of times a week. She would wake up drenched in sweat, often in tears, and she would IM Percy. They would talk until she had quit hyperventilating and was able to either go back to sleep or at least read, study, or get ready for her day. Percy was different still. He frequently dealt with insomnia and had flashbacks once or twice a week. Most of his flashbacks were over in five minutes or less. Either he would realize one was coming on and would shake it off himself, or Annabeth or his parents would be with him and help him ground himself in reality before one could really take hold. However, occasionally, a flashback would catch him on a bad day. He would be alone, off guard, and the flashback would come out of nowhere, sucking him deep into the memory, which he would just have to endure until the end. Those tended to last fifteen minutes or more. All flashbacks left him rattled and confused afterwards, but the after-effects of the bad ones could easily take the rest of the day to shake off. They left him exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. Thankfully, he hadn't had one of those in nearly three weeks.
One week after Thanksgiving, Percy had basketball practice for two hours after school. On his way home, he had a run-in with a dracaenae, which had cost him his last bit of ambrosia and nectar. Then, to top it all off, he had twenty trig problems to solve and a huge world history test to study for. By one in the morning, his dyslexia was so bad that he just stuffed his math homework in his textbook, the final six problems not even attempted. He was just starting to doze off around 2:30 when Annabeth's IM jolted him back to wakefulness. After an hour of talking to and consoling his girlfriend, Annabeth broke the connection with an apology, an "I love you," and a promise to spend Friday evening at the apartment with Percy and his parents. Percy fell into a fitful sleep, and he woke up so late the next morning, he only had time to throw on some clothes, brush his teeth, grab his backpack and a granola bar, and rush out the door behind Paul.
Unfortunately, Percy's day did not improve. Between being short on sleep and short on food, by the end of his first period class, Percy felt a headache brewing just above his right eye. This only hampered his dyslexia, which had not recovered from the night before. He was quite certain he failed his third period history test and wanted nothing more than to fold himself over onto his own lap on the bleachers and sleep during P.E. However, the coach required that they do something, even though she didn't have anything planned, so he opted for walking the track around the court.
When the bell rang, Percy gratefully headed to his locker to dump in his backpack before going to lunch. But as he passed the chemistry lab on his way to the cafeteria, his day went from bad to terrible with one whiff. The smell of sulfur hit him like a semi-truck, and it was all he could do to stumble into the library a few feet down the hall and collapse into a chair before he was sucked back into Tartarus. For the next seventeen minutes, he relived his first several minutes in Tartarus: the River Cocytus, the beach of broken glass, the River Phlegethon, the sulfuric air, Arachne.
Finally, the flashback released him, and he spent the last few minutes of the lunch period trying to regain his composure and sort reality from memory. His headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine by this point. The bell rang all too soon, and feeling like he had competed in a triathlon, Percy pushed himself out of his chair to grab his bag and head to English, which, regrettably, was not taught by Paul.
Shakespeare did nothing for his migraine or dyslexia, which led to him spending an unsuccessful sixth hour in study hall trying to complete his trig homework. Percy's final two classes, animal science and trigonometry, passed in a blur of severe dyslexia, headache pain, nausea, and shakiness.
Percy wanted to sigh in relief when the final bell rang, but as his luck would have it, he was taking an after-school SAT Prep class, and with the test just over a week away, he really didn't think he could afford to skip. Besides, they were studying the English portion of the test, and Paul was teaching it. Percy was in no shape or mood to walk home, so he would have to wait anyway. Percy slipped into the auditorium, wincing in pain brought on by the bright overhead lights and the loud chatter and clamor of one hundred other students settling in for the class. He silently prayed to Poseidon that his migraine-induced nausea would not turn into full on puking of stomach bile, seeing as how he had only eaten a granola bar and a fun-sized Snickers all day.
Percy closed his eyes and massaged his temples for a bit before hearing someone clear his throat over the speaker system. He looked up, and Paul caught his eye, giving him a brief questioning look. Percy waved off his concern, and Paul began the class.
It was an hour of torture, probably inspired by Achlys the goddess of misery herself. Percy could barely concentrate enough to pass worksheets and study packets down the row, let alone actually take notes or listen to Paul. He couldn't even summon the energy to wish for a second shot at drowning Achlys in her own tears and poison. He decided that was actually a good thing.
At long last, the class was over, and fifteen minutes later, Paul and Percy were doing a strange skate-shuffle across the frozen lot to the dented blue Prius.
"Perce, are you doing okay?" Paul asked. "You seem a little…out of it."
"Migraine," Percy muttered, lurching forward as he slipped on a patch of ice.
Paul grabbed his arm to steady him. "Did you have a flashback today?" His voice was quiet with concern.
"Yeah. Bad one at lunch. Never got to eat," Percy answered.
Paul stopped suddenly, grabbed Percy, and turned him until they faced one another. "Percy, why didn't you come and get me? I could have checked you out. You could have gone home, taken some medicine, eaten something, gotten some rest."
Percy looked at Paul. "I've missed too much school as it is. Besides, it's only a migraine. I'll live."
Paul shook his head and sighed but said nothing, and they began to shuffle, again. They were two rows from the car, when somewhere in Percy's pain addled mind he thought he heard a growl. He glanced around but only saw a small mixed breed dog at the edge of the lot about fifty feet away. He relaxed and took two more shuffle steps when everything went to pot.
Percy heard Paul yell his name. At the same time, he felt huge claws pierce the back of his right shoulder, rip off his backpack, and rake diagonally down his back. He fell to his knees, blood soaking the waistband of his jeans. He fumbled for Riptide, pulling it out of his pocket, but before he could uncap it, a second huge, hairy paw slammed into his chest, slashing his collarbones, and knocking him backwards, leaving him painfully and awkwardly lying on his own legs. Riptide skittered across the pavement, out of reach, and his vision was filled with a massive, furry head with gleaming red eyes and a mouth drooling in anticipation of fresh demigod for dinner. Percy Jackson, hero and savior of Olympus, was going to be hellhound chow. The beast snarled and leaned in. Percy's heart raced, and his breath caught in his throat. Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of sword against flesh, and the hellhound exploded in a shower of golden dust. Percy stared up at Paul who was pale and shaking, gripping Riptide in both hands.
Percy groaned. "Paul?" He tried to sit up, gasped in pain, and fell back onto his legs, black spots dancing in his vision.
This seemed to pull Paul out of his shock. Riptide clattered to the ground as he knelt down to help his stepson. He managed to get Percy back to his knees, only for Percy to start swaying on the spot. "Come on, Perce, stay with me," Paul coaxed. He pulled Percy's backpack over. "Where's your ambrosia? Nectar? In your bag?"
Percy nodded slightly. "Yeah…side pocket."
Paul searched the pockets. "Where, Percy? I'm not seeing it."
"Pockets…," muttered Percy, but then he remembered the dracaenae from the day before. "Oh, no…It's gone. I'm out."
"Out! What do you mean you're out?" Percy could hear the panic in Paul's voice. He, himself, was only getting weaker, his thoughts fuzzier. The blood flow from his back hadn't even begun to slow down. He needed help, and he needed it fast.
Paul took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm himself. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll call Sally, tell her to look for some ambrosia. We'll head home. If she doesn't have any, she can call Annabeth, and have her meet us at the apartment with some. You're going to be okay, Percy. Just stay awake."
Percy grunted in agreement, and Paul pulled one of Percy's arms over his shoulders and started helping him stand. Percy hissed in pain but got to his feet.
"Got your sword?" Paul asked.
Percy patted his pocket. "Yes," he whispered.
"Good," Paul huffed. "Now, to the car."
Painfully and slowly, they managed to get to the car. Paul draped an old towel on the seat and helped Percy get in and settled. Paul had his phone out, dialing Sally before he even got Percy's door closed.
Percy fought to stay conscious the entire ride home. Paul kept up a constant stream of commentary, everything from classes to Sally's novel to Christmas. If Percy got too still or quiet, Paul would shake Percy's knee and tell him to stay awake.
They got to the apartment building faster than Percy expected, but he wasn't complaining. He was to the point of having spots of vision among the black, his ears were buzzing, and everything hurt. Getting past the doorman didn't even cross his mind, but it did Paul's. He helped Percy out of the car and carefully draped the backpack onto his left shoulder. "It'll help hide the slash marks on your back. Do you got it?"
Percy grimaced and groaned but nodded. He leaned on Paul more than he intended as he struggled to move forward. He heard Paul speaking with the doorman but couldn't focus on their words. Soon, however, they were at the apartment door with Paul fumbling with his keys. Then, the door was flung open, and Percy saw a flash of blonde and felt someone gently guiding him into the apartment and to his bedroom.
In no time, he was stripped down to his boxers, and he was lying face down on his bed. He could hear his mom and Annabeth rushing to gather supplies. Annabeth was murmuring about how to heal him and calling him "Seaweed brain." He caught a glimpse of Paul setting his backpack against the wall beside his door. Then, his mom was there with a glass of water with a straw, a square of ambrosia, and an Excedrin. A few painful minutes later, Percy was drifting off into a dreamless sleep with Annabeth holding his hand and running her fingers through his hair.
Percy woke up about three hours later disoriented but pain-free and starving. He took a few minutes to remember what all had happened before getting out of bed, putting on clean clothes, and going in search of everyone else. He was nearly bowled over by blonde and brunette blurs as he came down the hallway. Percy laughed and stumbled back as he hugged his mom and Annabeth, both of whom had apparently been worried and were now speaking simultaneously at ninety miles an hour. He only caught bits and pieces.
"…stumbling in here bloody and pale as death…"
"…no food all day…"
"…migraine…flashback…"
"…woke you up last night…"
Percy continued to smile as he was led to the kitchen table by the women in his life. He sat down across from Paul who was grading papers. He looked up from his grading as the other three sat down. "You worried them," he said to Percy.
Percy smirked. "I gathered that. Women, right?"
Paul just snorted, shook his head, and went back to the paper before him. Annabeth, however, glared. "Don't go there, Seaweed Brain. We had a right and a reason to be worried, and you know it."
Percy looked at her apologetically and squeezed her hand. "You're right. I'm sorry for worrying you – all of you."
Sally shook her head. "It's not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last. But, seriously, Percy, you've got to take better care of yourself. You hadn't had enough food or sleep. You had a flashback and a migraine. You should have come home for your own health. I know you can't help the monster attacks, but you can help your immune system. Please, Percy…"
Percy sighed. "Okay, mom. Yeah, you're right. I'll try to do better."
"Thank you. That's all I ask. Now, about that food. You just stay there, and I'll warm up your plate from dinner," she said as she got up and walked toward the refrigerator.
Annabeth stood up, too. "I'll be right back. I'm just going to grab my book bag from the other room." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said as straightened and walked off.
Percy heard the scratching of Paul's pen on the paper he was grading, and he fidgeted in his seat as the memory of Paul standing over him, sword in hand ran through his mind. After all he had faced as a demigod, it was embarrassing enough to get bested by a simple hellhound, but to have to have your battle fought and won for you by a mortal… Mortified was too small a word. Percy felt his cheeks flame as he cleared his throat. "Hey, Paul?"
Paul looked up from his grading. "Yes?"
Percy gulped. "Um… Well, I'm sorry, first of all. It's my job to protect you from the Greek monsters, and uh, I failed at that today – rather spectacularly. So, yeah, sorry about that."
Paul opened his mouth to say something, but Percy ignored him and plowed right on through with what he had to say. "And, secondly, thank you. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I don't know what you saw, but you killed a hellhound. It was inches from turning me into dinner, so, uh, job well done and thanks. I owe you one."
Percy dropped his gaze to the table. All was quiet except the sound of soft footsteps as his mom and Annabeth made their way back to their seats. A plate of food appeared under his nose as his mom sat down beside him. Immediately, Annabeth dropped her bag onto the floor and sat down on his other side. Percy glanced at his mom who was sipping her nightly cup of chamomile tea. "Thanks, mom." She just smiled at him.
"Percy."
Percy looked at his stepdad. Paul had a serious look on his face, but there was a touch of humor and something else that Percy couldn't place. Paul stacked his papers. "You're welcome. And after taking part in saving the world at least twice, I'm pretty sure you don't owe me anything."
Paul stood up, grabbing his pen and papers. He walked around the table and squeezed Percy's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, son." And he walked out of the room.
Sally stood with her tea, kissed the top of Percy's head and followed Paul without a word. Annabeth glanced over and smiled at him.
Percy felt his chest swell just a bit as he grabbed his fork. The day had turned out pretty well afterall.
A/N: This is my first fanfic in years and my first Percy Jackson fic ever. Hope you liked it. Please read and review. Thanks!
