Would have posted this sooner, but there's no internet three hundred feet below sea level. It's always that dang southern atlantic...

Jacob's POV

Waking up at seven p.m. wasn't the perfect way to start the working day, mainly because most people were wrapping up their business by then. By the time I'd managed to track down Cynthia to bring me up to speed, she was asleep in her cot in the demigod tent. Night operations were all running smoothly on their own, no need for my intervention.

So after about a half hour of trying to find something General-esque to do and failing, I was actually starting to feel…well, useless. The time for strategizing had passed, there was no battle I had to rush to go fight, no urgent business to attend to…I wasn't needed right then. I had…free time.

I probably spent the first ten minutes just wringing my hands coming to terms with that. I could do…whatever I wanted. No one needed me to be anywhere. It was so liberating, it was almost intimidating. It had been so long since I'd had a minute to myself, I didn't know what to do.

What did I used to do for fun again?

I walked around base camp for a while, almost feeling lost despite knowing the layout blindfolded and backwards, until I'd found myself in the military barracks area of camp, where the soldiers slept with their various units when not on duty.

Some people said hello, others saluted, and one younger looking female soldier gave me a highly unprofessional wink. But right then, I didn't want to be General Jackson, honored war hero and leader of Allied forces. I was clinging to this night off thing too much. No General Jackson didn't get nights off. But Jacob did.

So I focused on being Jacob, just your average every day hybrid demigod.

You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?

With a talking sword.

My walk carried me on through the barracks area and past a truck, where a squad of soldiers dressed in off duty uniforms were loading up.

"C'mon Menchaca, I don't have all day," a young, handsome faced soldier sitting in the back of the truck yelled to one of his squad mates.

"What's the matter Bennett, got somewhere to be after this?" Menchaca asked as he climbed into the back of the truck along with Bennett and the other soldiers.

I chose then to step into the conversation. I felt like a little bit of an outsider, especially considering I was younger than all of these guys by at least three years.

Heads turned towards me, eyes widened, and several of the soldiers went rigid and saluted.

"General Jackson, sir!" one of them greeted, all professionalism.

"At ease," I said, and everyone relaxed as much as they could around the guy who was literally at the top of the command chain. "Where are you boys headed?"

"Re-stocking duty, sir," one of them explained. "The supply groups always need extra hands to help out with distributing supplies to refugees, organizing storehouses—"

"And generally lifting a bunch of heavy stuff," Menchaca added. "But Bennett here is in a real hurry to finish up early, aren't ya?"

"You had better pray the Embers get to you before I do Menchaca," Bennett threatened.

I took a good look at Bennett, and after a second his face clicked. He was the soldier from the med tent, the one who had donated blood to Alex when she'd been critical. He'd saved her life.

"Somewhere you'd rather be?" I asked Bennett.

Bennett shook his head. "Job comes first, sir."

It was my turn to shake my head. "C'mon, what's going on? Don't make me make it an order."

Bennett glanced back at his squad mates and gave them a warning glare before answering. "I have a friend back at the med tent…I usually visit them after the day's work."

"The kid's got a hot date and he didn't tell us?" Menchaca said incredulously. Bennett was giving him a death glare now. "Alright Bennett! Get some man!"

Bennett groaned as his squad cheered and slapped him on the back. I laughed, shaking my head. I saw that sheepish look on Bennett's face. So, he had someone special waiting in the med tent? This guy had saved Alex, so I my mind I owed him one. And besides, it's not like I had anything else to do today.

"Tell you what soldier," I offered. "Go visit whoever it is you have waiting for you in medical. I'll take your spot."

"Sir, I couldn't—"

"Okay, now I'm ordering you," I said, already taking off the jacket that was decorated with my various symbols of rank. "Go. Relax. And take this jacket back to the command tent on your way. I'd rather not draw to much attention to myself. Just one of the grunts tonight."

"You sure about that General? You might regret rolling on equal footing with us," Menchaca joked.

I tossed my jacket to Bennett, who looked more than a little surprised at the deal he'd just been handed. "Uh…thank you…sir."

I wondered how it felt to be Bennett. He looked younger than some of the other soldiers, but he still had to be at least eighteen. What was it like to call a teenager like me "sir"? I know I'd feel weird taking orders from a twelve year old.

"Dismissed Private," I said when he didn't immediately start walking.

"Get outta here Bennett," Menchaca told him. "Hey yo, Morales! Start the truck, time's a wasting!"

I jumped into the back of the truck, Bennett walked off in the direction of the med tent, and we were off.

Re-stocking work wasn't too bad. Just heavy. I even ran into Han, who was headed out with his group in search of more supplies. It was nice to be able to see him off. Hades, it was nice to be a normal person for a change. I was just one of the grunts, working, sweating, and wishing for better food like everybody else.

When we finally got a break in the work, we set up lunch in the bed of the truck, ate beans, shared drinks, and traded stories.

Eventually we ended up speculating how Bennett's evening was going. Guess ranged from him getting to third base to barely gearing up the nerve to shake his mystery girl's hand when he said goodbye, and all of them came off as a joke at his expense.

"So you guys have no idea who he's visiting?" I asked.

Menchaca shook his head. "Not a clue. Heck, 'til tonight we thought he was sneaking off to go—"

"What he means," someone else interrupted, "is we don't know."

Menchaca checked a watch on his wrist. "That's it for tonight boys. Let's all get on back to whatever hole we crawled out of."

The truck got started and a few short minutes later we were back at camp. I said goodnight to Bennett's squad and walked back to the command tent, feeling a lot better than I had in a long time. The command tent was empty and dark as expected, but I found my jacket hung on a chair by the map, a sure sign that Bennett had been here to take my jacket back.

I let out a long breath and sat down on my cot. Despite having only been awake for a couple of hours, I still felt tired enough to go back to sleep. Miz was right. I needed as much of it as I could get.

Told ya. Nice thing you did by the way, helping someone else with the ladies while you get closer every day to dying alone.

"Shut up Miz," I muttered.

You ever get tired of saying that?

"Do you ever get tired of being annoying?" I countered.

Touche, Smart One. If you need me, you know where to look. Miz shrank from a full sword into a much small silver click pen. It fell out of the sheath on my belt, which was designed to hold a sword, not a pen, and rolled underneath my cot. I didn't even bother picking it up, knowing it would be back in my pocket soon enough.

Before I could settle down for sleep though, I heard a voice outside call my name.

"Jacob? You in there?"

I knew that voice. You tend to remember the voice of someone who once joked about becoming your mother-in-law.

I hopped out of bed and smoothed out my wrinkled shirt, as if that could magically clean it after all the dirt that had gotten on it while I'd been out filling Bennett's shoes. I didn't even have to time to grab my jacket. "Come in."

Thalia di Angelo entered the command tent just as I flipped the switch on one of the electric lanterns. She looked around, viewing the utter chaos that was my workspace. She then turned her gaze back on me.

"Taking care of yourself?" she asked. That was when I felt a warning light go off in my brain. Thalia hated small talk. It ran in the family. If a di Angelo was using small talk, something was off.

"Best I can," I said. "What is it?"

"Jacob, about your parents…" Thalia began, wringing her hands.

My blood probably froze. My parents were quite purposely stationed in the greater New York area, overseeing preparations and repairs in case the fight ever came to our last city. There was no fighting there, it was as safe as any place could be in this war.

I of course had fed both of them excuses to prevent them from noticing they'd been sidelined. Mom was one of the best architects alive, the ideal person to oversee construction of defensive fortifications. Dad was one of our best fighters and a respected hero, the best guy to serve as Camp Half-Blood's guardian while we were fighting a war.

They probably both knew why I had them assigned where they were.

But now, Thalia was saying…

"Gods," I said, feeling my whole world crashing down on me. "They…they're not—"

"No," Thalia assured. "They're alive it's just…they wanted to tell you this themselves."

Thalia handed me a golden drachma. "Talk to them. You haven't done that in too long."

She was right of course. My parents and I didn't talk nearly as often enough as we should have. I honestly didn't want to talk to them sometimes, so they wouldn't see what this war had made me become. Either one of them probably wouldn't hesitate to take my place, and either one would probably be accepted to.

Problem was, Mom was an ingenious tactician, and Dad was a powerful fighter. I was both of them, I was our best bet at winning this fight. Besides, both of my parents had held up the world when they were thirteen. I could handle it at fifteen with an army backing me up.

I took the drachma, wondering what I would say to my parents, but more importantly what it was they wanted to say to me. I thanked Thalia for passing on the message as she left, and reached into my pocket for Miz. One click later, and the three foot sword replaced the tiny pen.

I'm up! I'm up! What is it this time? Demons? Gods? Traitors? Grocery store ladies?

"I need to make a call," I told him.

Styx. Miz whined. You know I hate being used as a cell phone.

"Get over it," I told him, stabbing him into the ground a few inches.

Mist began spraying from the sapphires embedded in Miz's blade, and I held the drachma ready.

"Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering," I said, and tossed the coin in. "Perseus Jackson, Camp Half-Blood."

And a moment later, I was looking at my dad through the IM. He was dressed in black denim pants and a white button-up shirt that looked like it had seen too many days since its last good wash, his hair was its usual mess, and his forehead was bandaged, but he looked fine.

"Jacob!" he greeted, surprised but definitely happy. "Gods, it's been way too long kiddo."

I took the "kiddo" in stride and grinned. It was just too easy to be happy with my dad around. I realized right then how much I missed him, and Mom.

"It's good to see you Dad," I said, gesturing to the IM. "Well, you know what I mean."

My dad laughed. "You still have a sense of humor? Thank Poseidon, there's hope for you yet when this is over."

That was dad, the optimist. But frankly, I could use a little optimism right now. He went deadly serious though afterward. "How you holding up son?"

"I'm doing fine Dad," I assured. "Still have all limbs, sanity more or less intact."

Dad gave me the look that said You know that's not what I meant, but he didn't say anything other than, "Good to hear. And everyone else?"

"Well, we all hate Urunos, and Roxanne has come up with some very creative things to do to him when we finally bring him down, but we're all still alive, thankfully," I said. I left out the Hunters from my summary. They were most certainly not okay, no matter which possibility you chose to believe. "Dad, Thalia said you and Mom wanted to tell me something. Is everything okay with you guys?"

Dad ran a hand through his hair. "Ah, right. That. Jacob, I was going to let your Mom tell you this—"

"She is better at talking than you," I joked, trying to keep things light even when I knew they were about to get heavy.

My dad gave a half-laugh. "Yeah… Jacob, I don't really think there's a right way to say this, but your mother's pregnant."

"W-what?" I asked. I really couldn't believe it. "That's…that's great! Right? Dad…?"

"Despite her claims, you mother cannot fight a war and carry a child at the same time," my Dad said. "She's going to be out of the fight very soon, and she'll be staying out for at least a few months."

"That's inconvenient, but what's the real problem here?" I asked.

"Jacob, the prophecy told of a child born out of a resurrection," my Dad said. "Our resurrection. Your birth. You were the child of the prophecy, the one who was either going to save us or get us all killed. It's one of the main reason the gods let you stay in charge, and it's also why several of the mortal leaders are still following you. But if word gets out that you might not be the child of the prophecy, that it might be your new sibling…Jacob, if you have enough enemies in high places, you could lose your command to the next most qualified person, especially if you give anyone a reason to think you're not the right man for the job. The mortals won't let a god be in charge, which means Athena couldn't step in. Your mother would be ruled out if they decided her hormones caused bad decision making…Jacob, if you lose command, there's no telling who'd end up with the job…or how well they'd be able to do it."

"So…what do we do?" I asked.

"Your mother and I will keep a lid on this, keep attention off of us. We both might disappear for a while," my Dad explained.

"And me?" I asked.

"Up on Olympus they already know about this," my Dad warned. "Nothing gets past Hera. Your job is to get to Olympus the first chance you get, and convince the gods that you are the child of the prophecy and our best shot at living through this war."

"And then?" I asked.

"Then you actually have to go out and win this war," my Dad finished.

I nodded, soaking up everything my Dad had said, absorbing it, analyzing it, and filing it away into a photographic memory. It was a simple, but effective plan, which was how I knew it was Dad's. Mom would have added at least three layers of subterfuge to root out anyone out to discredit me, save my job and give us a leg up in the war all in time for dinner.

"Alright," I said. "Convince the gods, win the war. I can do that," I assured. "So…new baby. How'd this happen?"

"I don't think you want all the details."

"Good point," I said quickly. "Any ideas on a name?"

"Your mother wants to name it Alchimede or Argos, depending on gender," my Dad said.

"Argos," I repeated. "Dad, please don't let Mom name my baby brother after Odysseus's dog."

We both laughed, then locked eyes in that way that let us say everything else we wanted to say. I'd felt close to my Dad, this moment was no different.

"Take care of yourself Jacob," my Dad said in goodbye. "I'm proud of you son."

The Iris Message shut down as we passed our hands through it simultaneously. "Bye Dad."

003: People have to be hating what I just did with Jacob and Bennett. Connect the dots, and you realize Jacob helped Bennett move in on Alex. I'm so evil.

Originally, I planned for Jacob to get drunk during this chapter and then Percy getting mad about that, and then the chapter as a whole taking a more depressing turn, but then it occurred to me alcohol abuse in minors was moving into an M rating, so that was cut and replaced with this.

I'll be damned though, a fairly serious AN. Usually by now something bizarre has happened that-

1136: 002 bought a pregnancy test.

003: ...

1136: 003? Hello?

003: ...

1136: Oh crap. I broke him.