So… it has been brought to my attention that I have misspelled the names of Leopald Fitz and Jemma Simmons. Sorry. Like I said, unedited. This chapter is the same. It's a bit of a filler. The next one will have more action.

Chapter 10

Location: Indian Ocean

Date: 23/11/2012

Time: 01:21

Subject: Percy Jackson

He hit the water with an audible smack. It enveloped him, whooshing the air out of his lungs and leaving his breathless. He'd sunk twenty feet deep beneath the surface. Percy took a deep breath, feeling the water tickle the back of his throat. It was soothing, and he took a deep breath before sighing. He could feel himself heal in the saltwater, watched as the flesh on his calf knit itself back together, his ribs crack back into place, and the swelling bruises on his face recede. And yet, something still hurt, something inside of him ached. And he didn't know why.

Percy didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Angry, about the troubles that had befallen him? Perhaps relieved, that he'd finally confronted the woman that was the tipping stone of the failure of his life? Hades, Percy would even take confused or hungry. But he wasn't either of those things, he was just… empty. He felt nothing. And this scared him more than anything he had ever felt before. More than Kronos, more than Gaea. This hollow empty feeling, burrowed deep inside of him. It was terrifying.

He floated adrift, suspended beneath the surface as he gazed blankly up at the sun dappled surface. What was the point? Why should he keep going? He had nothing left to live for anyways. It was almost as bad as the River of Lamentation. But instead of drowning in despair, it was something worse, he was drowning in indifference. Percy had reached the stage where he really didn't care if he lived or died. It was petrifying.

No, he told himself, snap out of it. Forward, always. It would become his new motto. His motivation. Forward, always. After all, where else was there to go. So he swam, skimming a few feet below the surface, faster than what was considered humanly 'possible'. He collected his belongings from Goa, dug up the tin of cash he had buried under the hut, found a place to hide the majority of his belongings. There weren't many in the first place, and he packed the rest in a bag before diving back into the ocean.

He needed to lie low for a while, or at least until their fevered searching dies down. And the last place they'd expect is on the ocean floor. He set himself up a sort of hut-tent thing, by pushing two slabs of rock together to form a triangle. And that was where he lived. For a year.

Percy had no way of knowing how much time he'd spent beneath the sea. He would train consistently, when it felt like equal amounts of time between each session. In all honesty, he didn't entirely understand what he was training for. There were no foreseeable fights in his future, not unless the Gods needed him, but he trained in spite of it. It took Percy a few months to come to his answer, to decided why. It was in his nature, he reasoned, he was born a fighter. It was all he truly knew, so it made sense, that even if he didn't need to, he trained anyways.

It was lonely, at the bottom of the sea. He had no one to talk too, aside from the occasional fish that would gawk in amazement at his presence before hurriedly swimming off in another direction, presumably to tell his father. So Percy had taken to humming to himself, simply as a way to break the silence. He didn't want to talk to himself… he'd always heard that it was the first sign of madness. Percy wasn't insane, or perhaps he was… he didn't know anymore. But he knew he didn't want to talk to himself, so he took to humming, just to hear a human voice.

And so, a year later, Percy left his home, packed his very few belongings, and left. He revisited Goa, where he'd left his money, extra clothes, etcetera. And then he left India. Forwards, always.

Location: Classified

Date: 5/12/2013

Time: 16:12

Subject: Skye

Skye felt awful. In all her life, she had never, never felt so guilty. So worthless. She had ruined a man's life, forced him to hide as she, herself chased him. She was a despicable human being, and she hated herself for it.

A tear trickled down her cheek. This was all her fault. Everything was always her fault. Skye clutched her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slightly as sobs rammed their way up her throat. She gasped for air. She felt someone settle on the couch next to her. Skye ignored them. Her own guilt was bad enough… she didn't need anybody else making it any worse. A hand began to rub her back.

"He wouldn't want you to act like this, you know." A soft, feminine voice said, thick with a British accent. It was Simmons.

Skye turned to look at her, a single brow raised over puffy, red raw eyes. She wiped at the tear stains on her cheeks, imploring her to continue.

"It seems to me," Jemma began slowly, "That Percy Jackson, is someone who admires strength. Someone, who keeps going, no matter the consequences or implications, and I think that the best way for to earn his forgiveness. Yes… earn it," she said, taking note of Skye's expression, "I don't think he is the type to give it to you. The best way for you to earn his forgiveness, is to simply move past it."

"You… you want me to forget that I did all those things?" Skye asked incredulously.

"No. Never forget. Only a fool would forget. No, I mean move on. Stop wallowing in self-pity and guilt, and get on with your life. I think he would respect that. I would respect that. The time for grief is over, Skye, it's time to redeem yourself and move on."

Skye nodded slowly. Jemma was right.

Location: Scotland

Date: 1/1/2014

Time: 11:09

Subject: Percy Jackson

He lived in a lake. It was a little weird and the fish kept staring at him, but overall, it could be worse. The small village four kilometres away, was separated from his home by a forest, tall and lush, with trees that felt as though they had lived for eons.

The children in the village were cruel. They would throw stones at Percy when he passed, after all, he was known as the crazy homeless guy who lived in the woods. He understood why the village residents thought of him as such. His clothes were ripped and worn, his wild black hair was long and tangled, now reaching just below his shoulders, and a thick beard covered his cheeks. Percy hadn't shaved since Goa. There was no reason to when you lived at the bottom of the Indian Ocean.

Percy often wondered if he had made the wrong decision in leaving the apparent safety of the sea, but after time, he had come to crave human contact, and the isolation was slowly driving him mad. So he left, he made an attempt to live normally. That was the reason why he had left the Greek world in the first place, to live an ordinary life. That, and the fact that he knew his mother wouldn't want him to be alone forever.

And here he was. In Scotland. Living in a lake.

Percy stood from his sitting position beneath the lake, and stretched his arms, feeling the sockets twist and pop. He had lived here for two months, and ventured into the village once a week to purchase supplies from the local store. His head broke the surface of the water, causing ripples to spread across the almost unnaturally still water. There was no breeze today, not even a whisper in the still air. It felt too quiet, too tame. Like the calm before the storm. It was unnerving.

He strode through the forest, his feet treading the worn path silently. Animals flitted through the trees ahead of him, and, for the first time in years, Percy found the world beautiful. Sunlight dappled the path in front of him, filling the world with ethereal light. He walked onwards, deeper and deeper through the trees, until the dappling light faded, and the animals grew more scarce. He was deep within the forest now, the trees feeling as ancient as the Gods themselves. It was deathly silent.

Until he heard a voice. The voice of a young girl, singing softly in the dim light. Curious, Percy pressed onwards, scratching his head in confusion. Why would a young girl be in the middle of the forest? Unless it was a monster. His hand curled around Riptide. If it was a monster, it wouldn't be alive for very long.

The girl looked to be about seven years old, and she was crouched in the middle of a clearing, her small hands delicately cupping a flower bud. Her voice was high and sweet, and as clear as a cloudless sky. It was beautiful. Her crooning voice became stronger, and the flower opened it's petals to reveal a wild flower of a deep blushing red. The child laughed, a light tinkling sound, that was so joyful and innocent, that Percy knew it didn't belong in a world as savage as this one.

Without making a sound, he continued walking, his head filled with thoughts of the girl, and his ears ringing with her sweet song. She could be a demigod, he decided, and, by the looks of it, a child of Demeter. There was always the possibility that she was an enhanced, but at her age, it seemed unlikely. Percy broke through the edge of the trees, squinting at the sudden burst of dazzling sunlight. The village lay spread in front of him, bustling with activity. Taking a breath, Percy stepped forward, preparing himself for the onslaught of judgement that was sure to accompany his presence.

As he strode through the narrow, cobbled streets, he could hear the carrying whispers, see the pointed fingers, sense the unwarranted accusations. A boy threw a stick. He dodged it. The little shit cackled, before lobbing an apple at Percy's head. In a smooth, blurred motion, Percy plucked the apple from the air and took a bite, giving the boy a carnal, threatening grin. He averted his eyes and turned away. Percy's grin widened.

Turning into the corner shop, he could sense the mood dampening, the sudden shuffling in the other direction, the muted mutters of apology. Percy looked at them. They flinched. Was his appearance so threatening? Was he so unkept that they thought he was a threat to their safety? Perhaps he should clean himself up, at least a little bit. He grabbed a packet of razors. What the hell. Why not. It had been over a year since he had disappeared into the ocean. Surely, they wouldn't still be looking for him. He grabbed the rest of his supplies before heading to the counter.

"How much?" He asked gruffly, his voice deep and rough from misuse.

"Thirty-seven pounds." The cashier replied, not looking at him directly.

Percy slid the money across the counter, ignoring the girl's flinch when his hand brushed hers.

"Have a nice day." He told her curtly. He picked up the paper bag with a single hand and left. He didn't need their judgement. He didn't care for their disapproval.

Percy dawdled back through the streets, savouring the presence of other human's, even if it wasn't favourable. With a fatal flaw of loyalty, he craved connections with people, as reason to fight, a reason to survive. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't allow himself to establish friendships. They would be his destruction.

It was just as he was thinking this that he saw the girl again, skipping down the road past him, not sparing the crazy, homeless guy a second glance. Her hair was chestnut brown, her eyes a pale, leafy green. He skin was as white as fresh fallen snow, and Percy couldn't help but think that she was the cutest little girl that he had ever seen. She skipped into the open door of the florist, calling to her father. Definitely a daughter of Demeter.

Percy shook his head. What did it matter to him? It wasn't part of his life anymore. And besides, her life wasn't threatened, he hadn't seen any sign of monsters or danger. Why should he uproot her life and destroy her childhood needlessly? It wasn't his business. She wasn't his responsibility. Percy put his head down. No connections. No emotions. With his bearded face a cold, blank canvas, Percy walked on.