Well I woke up to the sound of silence, and cries were cutting like knives in a fist fight.
He took a deep breath looking around the empty room. He could hear the cries, the defiant shouts of people at war, and it was more than just the news reports about the unrest in the Middle East. He released the held breath slowly, pushing himself out of his seat.
He had to go. He did not know where he had to go exactly, but he knew there was no time to sit here watching the news. He crossed the room quickly, passing empty tables with upturned chairs. Just as he was about to walk through the door he noticed someone at the bar.
And I found you with a bottle of wine, your head in the curtains.
"Um, sir. We're closed," he offered, his hand resting on the knob. The man at the bar gave a shuddering laugh, shaking his head as he lifted his glass.
"Sixteen years," he laughed. "It took sixteen years for me to see you, and that's what you say to me." The man's dark head shook again, he downed the contents of his glass and slammed it on the table, beside another full glass. "Maybe I deserve it. I've never been a good father," he emptied his second glass in one drink.
"I'm sorry, sir. I think you have me confused with someone else," he moved from the door toward the bar. "How much have you had to drink?" the man was surrounded by upturned glasses, well past his reach on either side of him.
The man snorted, draining another glass that was waiting for him on the bar. "Not enough," he answered staring at the empty glass in his hand, turning it slowly before him. "Thousands of years' worth of the strongest drinks imaginable and it's never been enough."
"I think you have," he took the empty glass from the man's hand, and the new full one that appeared on the bar. "And we're closed, so you need to go."
You swore and said, "We are not, we are not shining stars."
"Tell me kid, what are you doing here?"
"Leaving," he answered, taking hold of the man's arm and hauling him to his feet. "It's too early for you to be drinking. It's too early for anyone to be drinking, that's why we're closed and both of us are leaving."
The man laughed as he stumbled across the room. "Strong little brat aren't you?"
He threw the door open and started the toss the man out, but his hand was empty. He turned around to find the man sitting at the bar once again, another glass held in his hand as he stared at the amber contents.
"All my children are strong. They don't need help," he drained the glass. "I never had to worry about them; even though I should have."
"Why don't you go find your children, and tell them that," he crossed the room taking the drunken man by the arm once again.
"I just did," the man turned his electric blue eyes on him. "I only have two, and the other one has told me under no uncertain terms does she need me. But you, you have never been like Thalia."
This I know, I never said we are.
The name tore through him like lightning, and the feeling was not terrifying. Lightning was a comforting experience, and it was something that he had only just realized. What did bother him was that he did not anyone named Thalia.
"She's a tough one, that Thalia," he sighed draining another glass.
They were back at the bar, this time he had a drink in his hand as well. He looked down in shock at the glass in his hand, then back to the man. When had this happened?
"You know, it used to be a boy became a man at fifteen. Poseidon came to his son's fifteenth birthday."
"Poseidon?" he asked slowly setting the glass down untouched. "Like the Greek god?"
"I guess Hades did all he could. At least you're here, I suppose," the man sighed. "Jason, I'm sorry for everything, especially leaving you in Greece to fight against the giants alone."
Jason. He was Jason. He had always been Jason, but how could this man know that? He had never seen this man before. And the man was acting like he knew him.
"I think you've got me confused with someone else. I've never left the States, and there aren't any giants."
The man snorted again, "of course not. But you only think that because you're not my Jason; not yet anyway."
"I think you're confused."
"I am not," the man thundered, pounding his fist on the bar. "I am Zeus, Lord of the Skies, Head of the Olympic Council."
"Zeus is just a myth," Jason shook his head, needing to explain to this man but not wanting to upset him further. "You're drunk, you need to go home and sleep this off, and tell your family all that stuff you were telling me."
"I most certainly am not a myth," the air crackled with electricity around them. It was comforting. "I have come to offer advice before that child of Poseidon shows up and starts flaunting all the good deeds he's accomplished, making it impossible for me to blast him."
"What?"
"That and Poseidon made me promise I couldn't," Zeus waved the comment aside, picking up another drink off the bar. "So did Hera, though I don't know why."
If you're lost and alone, or you're sinking like a stone, carry on.
"Tell me about the war," Zeus leaned over the bar, holding his head up with his free hand as he looked at Jason.
"You should have been there," Jason sighed leaning over the bar with his arms crossed. "We thought Bacchus would be there, he had helped us on our way to Rome," the tale spilled from his lips before he knew what was happening. And even though he had no idea where the tale came from, it felt right and it rang of truth.
"But we were alone, until Hades gave us this chance."
So I met up with some friends at the edge of the night.
They turned from the bar to see a boy standing in the door, the one Jason had forgotten to close after Zeus slipped from his grasp. The boy crossed the room glaring at Zeus, his fists clenched at his sides. Zeus sighed, draining another glass.
"Taking lessons from Mr. D?" the boy asked, looking down the bar at the multitude of emptied glasses. "Or did he get it from you?"
"Go away. I'm having a private conversation with my son."
Percy glared at Zeus, his eyes floating between blue and green. "If you cared so much, why didn't you come to the Ancient Lands?"
"The Roman gods care little for their children. I had thought you learned that during your time at the Roman Camp."
And it's nice to know when I was left for dead. I was found now I don't roam these streets.
"The fate of the world is hanging in the balance, and you're sticking with that?" Percy shook his head, taking hold of Jason by the arm. "Come on, Annabeth's waiting."
"I regret that, Percy Jackson. But I couldn't do anything to seem weak."
"Compassion is not a weakness," Percy stopped half way across the room and turned back to the god at the bar. "I thought you had learned that by now."
"Why have you come back for him? You have Annabeth, shouldn't that be enough?"
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground, carry on.
"The prophecy called for seven heroes. I had to find them all once, now I'll do it again," Percy narrowed his gaze at Zeus. "It's something I shouldn't have to repeat."
"Don't lecture me Percy Jackson!" Zeus thundered, lightning flashing around him. "I understand responsibility. I am the King of the Gods! I am the almighty Zeus!"
"Who needs the inference of mortals to save you!"
"Stop it," Jason shouted, pulling himself free of Percy's grip. "This isn't helping anything!" Jason took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
All this arguing had caused a headache. It seemed that Percy was not a fan of Zeus. And the feeling was mutual. Jason did not have the energy to sort it out, there were more important things to discuss.
"Will you join us in the Ancient Lands?" he turned to the god.
"So long as the others come, I will be there."
"No, regardless of the decision of the other Olympians, I want to know: are you going to come?"
"I'll do my best."
Show me how no one's ever gonna stop us now, cause here we are, we are shinning stars.
"Come on Jason. Annabeth's waiting."
The demigods turned from Zeus, leaving the Lord of the Skies to his endless glasses of liquor. Out on the street Jason saw the blonde heroine leaning against an ancient Volkswagen bus painted in memory of the 60's. She was dressed differently than he remembered, but the air of the blonde waiting for them could only be Annabeth.
"What is that?" He was unsure if he was asking about the bus or Annabeth's drastic wardrobe change. Mini-skirts, button downs and fashion ties were not what Jason could ever consider functional. Percy took it as asking about the bus.
"This guy is really into the sixties," Percy answered, pulling a key out of his pocket. "At least I think he is. It's all a little fuzzy."
"Is this Jason?" Annabeth asked pushing herself off of the bus, her arms folding across her chest.
"Yea," Percy clapped Jason on the shoulder. "Zeus was in there, this has to be Jason."
On our darkest days, when we're miles away; sun will come, we'll find our way home.
"Then come on, we have to go find the others," Annabeth opened the door to let Jason climb in first.
As the door was pulled closed behind him, Jason looked back at the bar where his father was drinking. Sixteen years; Zeus had said it took sixteen years for him to come for a visit. If he had come sooner would they have lost the fight with Gaia the first time?
Why'd you have to wait to find me?