"Stubble"

Paul stared at the screen of his computer. He had his lesson plan program open. Beside him sat the brand new textbook the department had ordered over the summer for the tenth grade English classes; it was still shut. He was only a month away from the start of the new school year and had accomplished exactly nothing towards getting prepared. His classroom was still in boxed shambles. His lesson plans were non-existent. He hadn't bought any supplies. He hadn't even entered the names of his students in his grade book. He felt like he was walking in a daze. He could sit down to work, get distracted, and suddenly half a day would have gone by while he just sat doing nothing, lost in his worries and thoughts. He had been this way since the previous December when Percy had gone missing. Things had only gotten worse after the news they had received last month.

They had hope, at first, that Percy would return soon. He always had before when he had disappeared unexpectedly. Then, the days turned into weeks, which turned into months, and there was no trace of him, no messages, nothing. It was as if he just dropped off the planet. Then, in June, finally a message – a short 17-second message on Sally's voicemail. Percy's voice was once more heard in the apartment, and after so long, hope was back. Then, less than two weeks later, the worst possible news came: Percy and Annabeth had both fallen into Tartarus. Tartaus. Hell. His son and son's girlfriend were literally in Hell. Processing that was all but impossible, but they were down there. It was a fact.

Devastation had hit him and Sally hard. Nothing could have ever prepared either of them for that. No one had ever dropped into Tartarus – not and survived to tell the tale, anyway, as far as Paul knew. It was as if someone had just doused their flame of hope.

Finally, about a week after news of Percy and Annabeth's fall, came more news. Annabeth, the genius that she was, had somehow gotten a note to Camp Half-Blood from Tartarus. No one knew how she had done it, but it was proof that both she and Percy were still alive, still trudging through that abyss on their way to close the Doors of Death, whatever that meant. It wasn't much, but it was enough to inspire hope. They had survived their fall. They had passed through a portion of the land of monsters without dying. They had a chance to sleep (because according to Annabeth, she had had a dream about some statue and a girl named Reyna). They must have eaten because the note was on a napkin that was smeared with pepperoni grease and pizza sauce. Maybe, just maybe, they could make it through alive. Hope was back.

However, they had heard nothing since then. Iris messages weren't working. Annabeth's cell phone kept going to voicemail, and no one at the camp had heard from the crew of the Argo II since that note from Annabeth. They did manage to talk to Grover once since learning of the note, and he insisted that he thought that at least Percy was alive because of the empathy link. He had said he was also reasonably certain that Annabeth was alive because of all the feelings that he was able to sense, grief wasn't a major one. Though, Paul got the impression there was a lot the satyr wasn't saying. Regardless, they were able to keep their small flicker of hope alive with that conversation.

If all of that wasn't enough, they had just also discovered, only ten days ago that Sally was pregnant. She was expecting their baby, and they were both simultaneously overjoyed and heartbroken about that. They were excited to be having a baby. It was something they had talked about since before they were even married. They had always wanted to expand their little family, and when they had said something to Percy about it last fall, he had beamed at them and assured them that he loved the idea. Now it was happening, and Percy wasn't here. Paul couldn't help but wonder if this was supposed to be some kind of message to them from the gods. As if the beings on Olympus were trying to say, "You won't get Percy back, but here, have this baby as a replacement." He would never think of his baby as a replacement or consolation from guilt-ridden gods. If Percy never did come back, Paul wouldn't ever forget about him or stop missing him just because there was another child in the apartment. Paul knew that Sally felt the same way.

At this point, they were both about ready to break into Olympus and slap some sense into the gods. Recently, Sally had gotten in touch with Frederick Chase, and from the conversations they had had, the Chase family would help with the slapping the gods thing. Apparently, several years ago, Frederick had even outfitted a small plane to shoot celestial bronze bullets that he had fashioned himself from some of Annabeth's old weapons, and Paul knew for a fact that Percy kept a small arsenal of weapons and armor in a trunk at the foot of his bed. Paul figured that they could do more than slap the gods, assuming they weren't blasted to bits first, that is.

Now, it was August third. He had lesson plans to make. Sally was supposed to be working on her book. He thought he could hear the clicking of her keyboard, so maybe she was making some headway today. It was nice to know that at least one of them was accomplishing something. Of course, she could just be writing a letter to Percy. It had become one of her coping mechanisms, to write him a letter about whatever was going on with her and Paul. Some weeks, she didn't write one at all, and then other weeks, she would write nearly every day. Paul didn't know whether to encourage or discourage it because what if Percy didn't come back, but it seemed to help her. He couldn't deny her one of the few things that helped ease her depression, even if it meant that she pretended that Percy was only on a vacation and would be back any day rather than fighting in a war against powerful immortal beings on the other side of the world and walking through Hell.

Paul stood to get a glass of water. He rubbed his temples, though it did nothing to assuage the headache that had lodged itself there permanently over the past several months. He was tired. Of course he was tired. He was lucky if he got five hours of actual sleep a night any more. He tugged is pants back up. He wasn't eating a much as he once did, and most of what he ate any more were blue cookies and pancakes, another one of Sally's coping mechanisms. She said it made her feel closer to Percy, like she was keeping a promise, keeping hope. He reckoned it was something similar to keeping the porch light on for someone. Though, they did their own apartment version of that, too: a lamp in the living room window. That was Paul's way of keeping hope.

Paul sliced off a piece of homemade cinnamon raisin bread to go with his water. He really should eat something. It was nearly noon, and he had had nothing to eat, unless you counted the toothpaste he had probably swallowed while brushing his teeth that morning. Since finding out that she was pregnant, Sally had made a pointed effort to eat two small meals a day and have some hearty, somewhat healthy snacks around, hence the raisin bread. Last week had been banana nut muffins.

"Sally?" he called as he stuck his head around the doorway to look into the living room.

She glanced up at him from her place at her laptop. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and she had her novel notebook open beside her at the table. "Yes, dear?"

"I'm getting some raisin bread. Do you want anything to eat?"

She thought for a moment. "Maybe just a slice of the bread and a glass of milk. I'm not real hungry since having that breakfast this morning."

He nodded and went back into the kitchen to get the requested food. He wandered back into the living room and took a seat beside Sally on the couch. She pushed back her makeshift desk, also known as a tray table, as he sat a napkin-wrapped slice of bread on her lap and handed her a glass of milk. She smiled at him. "Thanks."

He nodded as he took a bite of his bread. They sat silently as they ate their bread. Once he was finished, Paul looked at her laptop. "Were you able to work on your novel any?"

Sally nodded as she swallowed the last bite of her bread. She took a sip of milk before answering. "Yes, actually. I just…I don't know…Today's a good day, I guess. I don't know why, maybe that I slept better last night than I have in so long. I just feel more at peace. That doesn't make sense, I suppose. It probably won't last, but I thought I should capitalize on it while I could."

Paul put his arm around her and kissed her forehead as she leaned into him. "I'm glad today is a good day. There hasn't been enough of those lately."

She reached up and squeezed his hand that was holding her shoulder. "You're right," she whispered.

They were quiet, again, for a minute before Sally pulled back and looked at him. "How about you? Did you get any planning done?"

Paul sighed. "No. No, I guess not. Maybe I should take a sabbatical this semester. I can't seem to get my head in the right place, and I'll do the students no good at this rate. I could work on a paper I've been toying with on the writings of Mark Twain. My friend Alex from the MLA has been wanting me to be one of the presenters for the convention for years, I could use the time off to research and write the paper and go to the convention. Maybe a change of pace like that would help."

Sally leaned over and kissed him softly. When she pulled back, she cupped his cheek in her hand. "You do whatever you need to do, Paul. I'm behind you one hundred percent. This has been a terrible ordeal, and you have been wonderful throughout all of it, despite it being just as hard on you as it has been on me. If a sabbatical is what you need, then that's what you should do."

He pulled her into a hug, tears pricking his eyes with love for this wonderful, gentle woman. How she could be so sweet, kind, and caring after all she had been through, he would never know, but he would also never take it or her for granted. At least the fates had smiled down on him in that regard.

Just as Paul was about to suggest going out for a walk and maybe having a real lunch at the diner around the block, there was a knock at the door. It was a timid knock, and it sounded vaguely familiar to Paul. The couple pulled apart and stared at the door for a moment before the knock sounded again. Sally shook her head and called out, "Just a moment. I'm coming."

She and Paul stood and walked over to the door. Paul stood back a bit as Sally checked the peephole. She gasped. "Oh gods!" She scrambled to unlock the deadbolt and slide the chain with shaking hands. Paul knew that whoever was behind that door had to do with Percy. He stepped forward and twisted knob with one hand and put his other hand on the small of Sally's back. He pulled the door open, and there stood Percy Jackson.

Percy was shifting nervously from foot to foot, fiddling with his pen with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He looked at them with sad, tired eyes that finally locked onto Sally. "Mom." He said it like he was seeing a dream. His chin quivered, and his voice was raspy.

Tears began to slip down Sally's face. "Percy. My baby." She pulled him into the apartment in a tight hug. Paul closed the door and turned to find the two locked in an embrace. Percy was at least a head taller than Sally, but he still had his face buried in her shoulder. He was broader across shoulders than he had been in December, but he was a lot thinner than he should have been. His joints were too bony, and his skin was pale and covered in new scrapes, cuts, and scars. The worst part, though, was that Percy was clinging to his mother and crying in a way that was more characteristic of a five-year-old child than a nearly seventeen-year-old young man. His body shook with quiet sobs from months of pent up emotions. Paul couldn't begin to imagine what his step-son had been through the past several months, but if what was happening in that apartment at that moment was any indication, it was nothing but agony and terror.

Sally cried, too, as she gently carded her hand through Percy's hair, muttering little soothing statements in his ear. She rubbed his back and let her son try regain his composure. Paul came close and gripped Percy's shaking shoulder. He could feel the bones through the boy's t-shirt. At last, Percy calmed down and pulled back from his mother only to turn and hug Paul fiercely. He was still shaking, and Paul could feel just how thin he had become through his quest. "Thank you," Percy whispered to him. Paul didn't even know what Percy was thanking him for, but he pulled the young man closer for a moment.

Then Percy stood back from both of them, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. The nervousness from before was back. He looked toward the floor, his head hanging in what looked like shame. "I'm so sorry." His voice was thick with remorse. "I'm sorry," he repeated, pushing his hand through his hair. "I tried to send messages, but there was so little time and as usual, nothing was working. And I couldn't even remember either of you for the longest time, and I know you were worried. Chiron said you know what happened in Rome, but even after we got out, Annabeth had lost her phone in the fall. Iris-messages weren't working. I couldn't ever figure out how to make international collect calls because I never had the correct change for the phones, and I didn't have time to search for a post office while fighting off monsters on the stops that we made in Greece. And then there were the big battles to fight and funerals to attend and formal alliances to make and meetings to have, and I just barely got away this morning. I would have been here a couple of hours ago, but I got stopped by freaking monsters three times on my way here because some of them apparently just ran from the battle when everything finally turned in our favor, and gods, I'm just so sorry!"

Somewhere near the beginning of that speech, Percy had started pacing, gesturing widely, pulling at his hair, and talking faster. Paul had never seen him so distraught, and once Percy was finally done, Sally walked over to him and laid a hand on his arm. He stilled and looked at her. "Percy, it's okay, now. You're home, sweetheart. How about you tell us where Annabeth is?"

He took a shaky breath and released it before answering. "At camp. One of us had to stay. The Romans are leaving tomorrow, but I had to come see you. I tried to use an Iris message, but it's still not working. I can't even stay. I have to go back in the morning because there's still so much to do. So many people died, and I have to go inform their families-"

Sally gripped her son's hands interrupting him. He was getting worked up again. "Shhh…It's okay, Percy. It's okay." She spoke calmly to him as she led over to the couch and had him sit down. Paul watched in amazement. Percy hardly looked like the same person. His frame had filled out. He had grown to at least six feet tall, maybe an inch or so over that, and Paul knew that once he regained some weight, that Percy would look like the powerhouse that he was. Sally leaned over to kiss Percy's forehead. "I'm going to get you some cookies. Just relax. You're safe at home now. I'll be right back." She looked at Paul, silently asking him to stay with Percy. Paul nodded, and she turned to head into the kitchen, glancing back at her son once before going through the doorway.

Paul looked over at his step-son. Along with everything else, his face had changed, too. He was all hard lines and sharp angles, it seemed. There were dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks had an almost sickly pallor to them, and they were slightly sunken into his face. Percy's green eyes had aged. He looked tired, worn to his soul, and a darkness that came from fighting the most vile of beings lurked in the shadows of his irises. It struck Paul again that he would never be able to understand the full extent of what Percy had been through within the past few months. There were some things that Percy would never un-see.

The change that struck Paul the hardest, though, was that Percy had stubble. At 12:17 in the afternoon, Percy Jackson had stubble. This wasn't the peach fuzz he had teased Percy about last fall. At that time, Percy could still go a couple of days or so between shavings before developing even the barest of five o'clock shadows, but that was not the case, now. That bothered Paul more than he wanted to admit. Maybe it was because shaving was one of the few "fatherly lessons" he had ever taught Percy. Paul had been a part of the Jackson's lives for such a short amount of time that driving, shaving, and a few comments on being a gentleman and being responsible with Annabeth were pretty much all that he had under his title of "dad." Now, one of those had been stolen from him.

Paul was supposed to be there for all those nicks and cuts. He was supposed to tease Percy about using a disposable razor before surprising him with an electric one once Percy started shaving daily. He was supposed to hide the nectar and ambrosia from the boy, forcing him to bear the humiliation of having a piece of toilet paper stuck to his face as they drove to school. That was going to be his job, but it was too late. Percy had stubble with no trace of scabs from a healed nick, and he would certainly have a real five o'clock shadow by dinner time. Somewhere during the past eight months, he had gotten to and past that milestone, just like how he had filled out and grown into a man. Just like how he had left any innocence he had managed to retain about this world behind when he had walked through Hell. Paul and Sally had missed it; it was stolen from them. Percy, their boy, was stolen from them, and he was sent back nearly a full-grown a man.

Percy had been staring at his hands, which looked rougher and more scarred than they had been last December. Paul cleared his throat and threw out the first question that came to mind. "Why did you thank me, Percy?"

Percy looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "For taking care of Mom. For being here. It's more than what I've done lately." He sighed and looked back down.

"My guess is that you've been doing a lot more than either of us could ever understand," Paul responded.

Percy leaned back on the couch and ran his hand through his hair, again. "Not more than you could understand, but probably more than you would want to understand," he muttered.

All the new scars bothered Paul, too, and suddenly he remembered that Percy wasn't even supposed to be able to be wounded. "I thought you had the mark of Achilles?" he asked.

Percy smirked sarcastically and let out a huff that almost sounded like a laugh just as Sally came back in the room with a plate of blue cookies and a tall glass of lemonade. "'Had' would be the key word in that sentence, Paul. When I entered the Roman camp, I had to cross the Little Tiber River, and it washed it away since it was a Greek blessing. I haven't had the mark of Achilles since June." Percy gave his mother a small smile as he slipped a couple of cookies off the plate and took a bite out of one.

Sally sat beside him and pulled his arm over to look at it. "So you decided to get a tattoo on your newly vulnerable skin to commemorate the event?" she asked with her eyebrow arched.

Percy's eyes twinkled for the first time since entering the apartment, and he actually chuckled. "Well, not exactly, Mom. It's a Roman thing. Once they make you an official member of the legion, you basically get branded. That's not a regular tattoo; that's a burn. 'SPQR' is kind of their motto. The trident symbolizes my godly parent, and the line is supposed to represent one year of service, which, well, I only had like one week of service, but they had to grant me the full year when they elected me praetor after the battle that I fought with them."

"So no other tattoos?"

Percy shook his head, smiled, and laughed. "No, Mom. No other tattoos. Just a few new scars and possibly some asthma."

Sally's eyes widened. "Asthma!"

Percy shrugged as he ate the last bite of his cookie. "I don't recommend breathing sulfuric air for eighteen days or, you know, getting cursed with a wound that goes straight through your chest sideways. It's not good for your lungs."

Sally gripped his hand as a tear fell down her cheek. "Oh Percy!"

Percy looked stricken. He dropped his second cookie back onto the plate to hug his mom. "Gods, Mom…I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. I shouldn't have said that. I'm fine. Really, I am. The curse is long gone, and with more time to rest and all, now, my lungs should clear up from all the sulfur exposure. Our best healer at camp said so. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You really don't need to worry."

Paul answered as Sally pulled back and wiped her tears. "Percy, you're not fine, and you don't have to put up a front for us. We're your family, not the demigods that look to you for leadership. You've lost a ton of weight. You've got a sickly complexion. You look like you haven't slept properly in months. You've got all these cuts, burns, scrapes, and scars. Your hair is singed. You're not okay, but it is okay that we know that."

Sally sniffed. "Paul's right, Percy. We want to help you and Annabeth. We know these last few months have the hardest of your life, and we want to help you be okay, no matter how long it takes."

Percy was fiddling with his hands, again. His feet were bouncing around. He wouldn't look at them. This was not going to be easy, Paul noted to himself. It reminded him of the weeks following the war last summer, but it was worse this time around. Paul felt a flare of white-hot anger at the gods for forcing teenagers to have to deal with things that most adults wouldn't be able to handle. It was irresponsible and wrong. In all honesty, he didn't want Percy to leave this apartment, again, especially to go back to Camp Half-Blood. He wanted to put the boy to bed, feed him three solid meals a day, and allow him any snacks he wanted in the meantime until he looked a less like a famine victim and more like a healthy high school senior. He wanted to let him pick out stupid movies at the Redbox, play video games, skateboard, swim, and toe the curfew line on date night with his girlfriend. He wanted him to worry about grades and tests not monsters and gods that were hell-bent on destroying the planet. He wanted Percy's worst nightmare to be the possibility of having to wear a pink tie to prom, not the possibility of having to survive Tartarus. He wanted Percy to think he actually could have a future, to dream of life beyond this moment, to plan for it, work for it, and have the audacity to expect it like every other seventeen-year-old kid in the world. If you had more than three conversations with Percy, then you knew that graduating high school was a back-up plan for him on the off chance that he didn't die before then. What kind of screwed up reality was that?

They sat in silence for several minutes. Paul could see his thoughts mirrored on Sally's face, and Percy must have been reading their minds because when he finally broke the silence, he quietly announced, "The Romans have a city – a safe city for demigods. There's a college and houses and jobs. Demigods who can't be safe in the mortal world can live there. They can get married and raise their families there. It's a nice place."

Something pricked at Paul's heart hearing Percy talk about this demigod city. He could hear it in his voice, these barely thought about dreams, the inkling of plans and possibilities, things that were so precious he couldn't even speak of them barely above a whisper, things that were just maybes and one days and hopes. Percy had once given hope to Hestia the goddess of the hearth and home, but it would seem that just maybe she had given it back to him in the form of this little city he had stumbled upon. Paul found himself sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the Lady of the Hearth.

"Can you go there, though, since you're Greek?" Sally asked quietly. She sounded like she was afraid of the answer, afraid that she might pop this delicate bubble that Percy was holding.

"I don't know," Percy answered honestly. "But I intend to find out. Annabeth didn't get a chance to see the place much, and I know she doesn't want to leave New York, but I thought that maybe if we could just go for college, just catch a break for a few years, you know. I mean I love it here as much as she does, but I think, at this point, I would jump at the chance to not have to worry about everything else for once. After everything she's been through, too, lately, I think she will feel the same way. Besides, maybe we can talk the gods into letting us create a Greek city over here. Then, we'd have a safe place to be later."

They continued to talk about Percy's quest, the war, the Roman camp (which Paul found out was named Camp Jupiter), the demigods that Percy had met and quested with, and several other things. Paul knew that Percy was leaving stuff out and watering down other things, but they did learn that Percy actually had been sick for several days over the past week and had been unable to hold much of anything down during that time, which explained the sheer amount of weight he had lost and the color of his skin. He assured them that Annabeth had regained some weight since Tartarus and looked better than he did. Paul teased him about being biased on that note, and he was happy to see Percy's face turn a light shade of pink as he grinned. It told him that despite everything, Percy was still Percy. A lot had changed, but deep down, he was still the same as that fourteen-year-old kid that he had met a few years ago.

At long last, Percy's stomach let out a voracious growl that took all three of them by surprise and sent Sally into a fit of laughter that left her gasping for breath while tears rolled down her cheeks. Paul and Percy laughed at her joy and amusement. It took several minutes for them to all calm down enough to speak. "Oh my word, Percy!" Sally exclaimed. "I didn't realize how much I missed that bottomless pit you call a stomach. We need to get some food into you."

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Paul beat him to it. "How about we make this a real celebration? We'll go out for burgers and ice cream. You've only got one night, and we can have a real home cooked meal ready for you when you get back from camp, and you can bring Annabeth then, too. I really don't want to waste our short time tonight with having to cook and clean."

At the word "burgers," Percy's stomach had moaned again, and Sally's joined in at "ice cream." Clearly, the idea was met with approval.

Sally grinned sheepishly, and Percy laughed again. "That sounds great, Paul. Just let me put on a fresh shirt. I might have had to roll through a mud puddle while fighting off a monster on the way here."

"Just give me fifteen minutes. I have to get out of my writing clothes and into something presentable and run a brush through my hair," Sally responded as she popped up from the couch and headed into the back of the apartment.

Percy grinned as he stood and headed into his bedroom. Paul smiled as he watched Percy lumber down the hallway while running his fingers along the wall as if re-acquainting himself with his home. Yeah, there were going to be tough times. Percy had been through Hell and back and would have to adjust to being back home in the mortal world. They would have to be there for him, be patient with him, and carefully help him come to terms with everything that happened and all that would happen. It was a tall order, but Paul knew that Percy would be willing to work at it. He also knew that he and Sally would do whatever it took to help. For now, though, he was going to revel in the fact that Percy was home. He was also going to stop by the drug store while they were out and buy his son an electric razor because that was his job.

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Disclaimer: I do not own PJO, HOO, or TOA.

A/N: I wanted to include the pregnancy announcement, but this story had already gotten so long, that I felt like I should leave it for another story that I may or may not write. At any rate, I hope you liked this latest installment of my Paul and Percy stories, even if this one included a lot of Sally. Thanks for reading!