Obbsession

Authors Note: Hello guys and gals, hope you enjoy my first Percy Jackson one-shot. I know Percy is pretty out of character here but combining survivor's guilt and his fatal flaw I think it's plausible.

He can feel the concerned stares burning into the back of his head but when he whips around they pretend to be doing other activities. He growls and goes back to his training.

Sweat runs down his back as he strikes the next practise dummy,slicing it into ribbons in mere seconds.

Not good enough.

He turns to the next target and tries a different attack, a horizontal slash, and gets the same result.

Not nearly good enough.

Someone comes closer and Percy stops momentarily to glance at the newcomer, this time it's Jason. Strange, they usually sent Annabeth to "reason" with him.

His response was the same no matter who they sent.

Percy turned his attention to the next dummy and feinted a slash to the legs but actually slashed through the dummy's midsection.

"Percy," Jason began, "we're all really worried about you-"

"Get to the point," Percy interrupted, tapping his foot impatiently against the wooden deck.

"Fine," the blond male snapped, "we're reaching the battlefield in a matter of days and we don't want one of the strongest fighters we have to drop dead of exhaustion on the battlefield!"

"That won't happen," Percy vowed, "I won't let it."

Jason's eyes flashed, "you need to eat and sleep and a bit of socializing wouldn't do you any harm."

Percy glared, "I can socialize after the war is finished and everyone is safe."

Percy moved to go back to the next target but Jason grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him in place. "Dammit Percy," Jason yelled, "the prophecy doesn't just refer to you, last time I checked the prophecy said seven demigods not one."

Percy forced Jason off him and moved back to the dummies and ,after slashing another apart, spoke quietly, "I can't afford to lose anyone else Jason."

Percy heard Jason move away,presumably back inside the Argo Two, and Percy breathed a long sigh of relief.

He hated their visits.

He gripped Riptide's hilt harder, why couldn't they see this was necessary?

He wasn't nearly strong enough to protect everyone. His fight with Chrysaor was proof enough of that, Medusa's son had trounced him.

And then there was Bob and Damasen … it haunted him that he had let them die in his place, because he hadn't been strong enough himself.

He hacked apart another dummy in anger and frustration.

He hadn't been strong enough.

And that had to change.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and swiped another dummy's head off in one brutal swing. He proceeded to kick the dummy in the torso, knocking it off his perch and sending it flying across the deck.

His arms shook in exhaustion and his stomach grumpled in complaint of his strict training.

"Just one more," he thought out loud, "just one more and I'll get some sleep and eat a hot meal."

Just one more.

One more and he would be strong enough.

He had to be strong enough.