Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews last chapter! :) Let's move on to some... vague responses! Yay! Ok, first, I know I said I really wanted to finish this within 30 chapters. Even then, way at the beginning, I'm sure we all knew I was lying. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at this and how much you enjoy the story) there will most likely (definitely) be more than 30 chapters. Cause I know exactly how I want this to end and it'll take us a couple more chapters to get there. So... This might not be finished quite by Christmas like I said but that's all good. People have already waited this long for a sequel to The Escaped Titan, what's a few more weeks? (Hopefully we're pretty close to what I wanted, but there's no saying for sure yet.) Anyways, as for this story, trust is definitely the biggest issue. By that, I mean Percy's trust in nearly everyone and everything he sees, even if that someone is actively torturing him physically and mentally (cough KRONOS cough). Because even if Percy knows Kronos is a bad guy, there are some lines he doesn't think even Kronos would cross. Which is a terrible decision. Anyways, enough of me ranting about things you might've already gotten from reading. I own nothing, but please enjoy the chapter! :)
Third Person POV
The three crept towards the door, weapons at the ready. As one, they peeked into the room.
Someone's dagger slipped from their fingers and clattered against cold concrete. "Percy?"
The first thing they noticed were the footprints. Etched onto the concrete with crimson blood that glinted in the eerie green lighting of the room, they moved towards the door and away from the back wall of the room. The prints were driest closest to the door, with the ones farther away still glistening with wet liquid, as if the criminal had recently stalked away from his crime.
His crime pertaining to the unmoving son of Poseidon leaning against the far wall.
Grover had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat at the sight of his best friend. His feet carried him forwards, his mind unconscious of it all except for his increasing horror as he took in the scene.
Percy was paler than Grover had ever seen him, his skin without any of its usual tan glow. His sea-green eyes hid themselves behind paper-thin eyelids that clung to the orbs they protected. He wore all black, just like the last time Grover had seen him (was that only hours ago? It felt like it was years ago.), but he was mysteriously without the navy blue mask he had been wearing last time the demigods cornered him.
Worst of all was the dagger handle sticking out of Percy's chest, right where his heart would be.
One of Percy's hands rested lazily on the hilt buried in his torso, as if to stop it from entering. At least he put up a fight, Grover thought darkly before a chilling thought occurred to him. Or maybe the hand was still resting on the hilt because Percy was the one to stick the dagger there.
Either Annabeth Chase hadn't seen the dagger embedded in Percy's chest or she chose to ignore it, because she was currently taking a the pulse of the dead corpse. (As much as Grover wished it not to be true, the only thing Percy could be right now is dead.) Luke kneeled on Percy's right side, easing Percy's left hand off the dagger gently and placing it in his blood-soaked lap.
"Annabeth," Grover murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Annabeth, there's no use. Annabeth..."
Grover's heart broke to see the strong daughter of Athena in such a state. He doubted his words even registered in her mind; all that mattered to her right now was the fact that they were too late. Too fucking late to save the life of the son of Poseidon.
The satyr heard soft taps against concrete behind him, then Beckendorf and Silena were standing next to him. The trio was only a few feet, maybe two yards, from the corpse of their friend. (Grover didn't think he could get any closer without vomiting. The stench of blood filled the room, rising up from the pool of blood the body was sitting in. (He couldn't think of the corpse as once being the body of Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon- it might break him.))
Beckendorf laid a large hand on Grover's shoulder, showing his sympathy in one of the only ways he knew how in this sort of situation. (And wasn't it horribly depressing that Grover was already categorizing this tragedy in his mind?) Silena nodded at the satyr and her boyfriend, tears brewing in her beautiful eyes as she stepped past them and towards the daughter of Athena.
"Annabeth," she said, voice even softer than Grover's was, "you need to stop. He's... There's nothing we can do for him now."
Annabeth didn't react to the daughter of Aphrodite until Silena placed a delicate hand on Annabeth's shoulder, just like Beckendorf had with Grover. Annabeth froze.
"There must be something," Annabeth muttered desperately, hand already outstretched to take Percy's pulse from his neck instead of his wrist. "He can't be... There must be something."
"Annabeth..." Silena trailed off, shooting a searching look at Luke. The son of Hermes kept his head down, absolutely no help to the others. Silena sighed. "Annabeth, don't make me say it."
The daughter of Athena stiffened under her friend's fingers. "No," she murmured, volume quieter than air.
A tear traced its way down Silena's perfect face. "He's dead, Annabeth."
A moment of silence prevailed, everyone visibly struggling to accept these words, even spoken aloud. (Wasn't it supposed to be easier with the words spoken aloud?) Then, suddenly, Annabeth exploded.
"No!" She cried, pushing away the daughter of Aphrodite. "I refuse to believe that! He's always defied the odds before, why should now be any different?"
Watching sadly as Annabeth bent down to take his pulse from his neck, Silena offered, "Maybe that's because he's never been at war with himself before."
Annabeth ignored her friend as easily as she did upon discovery of the body. Her fingers found the groove between Percy's neck and his jaw, where it was best to take one's pulse. Her index finger and her middle finger nestled themselves in the groove, waiting. Annabeth prayed to every god she knew that they weren't too late. Percy had to have one last miracle to give.
"Annabeth," someone called from behind her, but the daughter of Athena didn't do anything. She held her breath, hoping and praying. Praying to every god, hoping against hope that there was still something in life to hope for.
Thud.
Something beat against Annabeth's two fingers. She barely suppressed a gasp, a startled shriek, a shout of joy. Had she imagined it? She remained still, squeezing her eyes closed as she waited for the miracle to repeat itself.
The others looked on in confusion. Suddenly, Annabeth had stilled herself. Grover was convinced that she was no longer breathing, and her gray eyes were shut against the horrors of the world. But she didn't retract her hand from Per- the neck of the corpse. (He can't say his name. Not yet. Maybe not ever.)
After a frightening moment during which neither Beck nor Grover saw Annabeth's chest rise or fall, Beckendorf ventured, "Annabeth?"
Surprisingly, she responded by taking the unoccupied hand and lifting up a single finger. (Thankfully not the middle finger.) She wanted them to wait for a minute.
For what? Grover wanted to ask, but suddenly his voice felt so small in the crushing silence of the room. He kept quiet, hoping that he wasn't making a horribly stupid decision.
There was a lull of silence, each person questioning their own sanity as well as that of the daughter of Athena. Suddenly, like a gun shot on a quiet winter night, Annabeth exclaimed, "There it is!"
Silena blinked a few times in rapid fire. "... What? What was it, Annabeth?" She asked, voice gentle. Clearly she had already decided that, in the wake of this tragedy, Annabeth's mind wasn't holding up quite well.
"He has a pulse," Annabeth murmured softly, then repeated it louder, voice full of hope. "He has a pulse!"
"What?" Luke said, speaking up for the first time since entering the room. The son of Hermes raised his head, slowly standing himself up. He scooted around the motionless body, coming to stand where Annabeth was standing. Tentatively, he reached a hand out. "May I?" he asked hesitantly.
Annabeth nodded. She took her hand away, allowing Luke's to replace it.
Everyone waited with bated breath, wondering if Annabeth was merely insane or if there was actual hope that Percy Jackson was still, somehow, miraculously, alive.
Luke gasped. "I-I felt something!" He breathed. "I don't know how, but I felt a pulse!"
"Impossible." Beckendorf frowned, concern etched onto his face. Annabeth might've made up the idea in her desperate hope to find a living son of Poseidon in the room. Luke might've fallen for the delusion. There was simply no way someone with a dagger sticking out of their chest, sitting in a pool of blood, could be alive. There was no way.
Nonetheless, Beckendorf stepped towards the son of Hermes. "Excuse me," he said not unkindly, muscling his way to the body. Snatching Luke's hand away, Beck instead laid his dark-skinned fingers against Percy's neck and waited.
The others watched, Annabeth and Luke with blatant hope shining on their faces while Grover and Silena looked skeptical. They wanted Percy to be alive, don't misunderstand, but delusions would get them no where except to disappointment. Annabeth and Luke confirming the idea was one thing; Beck would be the deciding factor.
"I felt something," the son of Hephaestus whispered under his breath after a moment's pause. "I think I feel a pulse. It's weak and it's slow but I think it's there." He turned to his two uncertain friends, eyes practically glowing with joy and faith. "Percy Jackson is alive."
Poseidon was beginning to get impatient. (He would say impatient; it sounded better than worried.) What was taking the demigods so long? Had they reached Percy by now? Had they encountered trouble? Gods, he hoped that they hadn't encountered Kronos. But even if they had, wouldn't the titan know Poseidon was waiting outside for them? They all bore the signature residue from his powers when he teleported them here. Kronos would know that Poseidon was somehow involved. If the titan already killed them all, he would've come to gloat.
So, at least one of the heroes must be alive. If anything, Percy would bet on Annabeth Chase. There was a reason his son loved her, and it wasn't just for her looks. (Sons of the sea had better taste than to focus on only a woman's looks.) Annabeth Chase was easily the smartest child Athena ever spawned. If anyone would get his son back, it would be Annabeth.
Which takes Poseidon back to his earlier dilemma. Where were they? What could have stalled them for so long? Even if all of them died except for one, that one would still do everything in their power to save Percy. Right? Why did the sea god have such a terrible feeling in his stomach, then?
The mighty god began to pace back and forth, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, all the while keeping an eye on the door. Any minute now, the demigods would come running from the door with his son safely jogging back with them.
Poseidon waited, pacing. He glanced up at the sky, sea green eyes seeking the reassuring openness that reminded him of a cheap version of the ocean. He bet his brother was frowning down at him, trying to remind him that Percy Jackson was still a felon. He was to be captured and killed on sight. Poseidon was breaking Olympian law.
He didn't care. All he wanted was his son back. He wanted to march down the street in Manhattan, stroll up to Sally's apartment, and tell her with a big smile that after all these months, their boy was finally home. She would cry and her knees would buckle and she would fall into his arms, and he would hold her close one more time. He loved her, he always would, but he was happy that she was finding love in the mortal world too.
She deserved it. Sally Jackson deserved everything.
Poseidon paced back and forth, constantly fidgeting with his arms. He crossed and uncrossed them, swing them idly, and threw them about. Where were the demigods? Why weren't they here yet?
With a sharp intake of breath, Poseidon twisted his head towards the compound. Had he just heard...?
There it was! Like a dull throbbing in his ear, the sound of footsteps hitting concrete grew louder as the seconds passed. It was only through the miracle of having godly hearing to match everything else that Poseidon detected the sounds. They were coming! The demigods were returning!
The god of the sea had a brief moment of panic in the midst of his elation. Had they found Percy? If so, what shape was his son in? Was Kronos right on their heels, or was this an illusion from the titan of time? Was his mind playing tricks on him? What if one of the demigods didn't return, how would he explain that to their parent?
Before the sea god could think himself further into a panic attack, five figures appeared from the shadows of the doorway, running towards the tree line where Poseidon was waiting.
His heart sank. Five people went in, six were supposed to come out. That's what a rescue mission was, wasn't it? He saw the telltale blonde ponytail of the daughter of Athena and felt a rush of relief. At least he wouldn't explain to Athena how he killed her daughter on a secret mission.
The closer he looked at the faces, the more it seemed apparent that none of the five figures had the same sea green eyes as the god. Percy was not exiting the compound with his friends.
Fighting back tears, Poseidon took a moment before the demigods arrived to check again. No, none of the runners wore sea green eyes and jet black hair. Either they hadn't found Percy or... there was nothing to save.
"Poseidon!" Annabeth called as the demigods were about to breach the tree line. "Poseidon, come quick!"
Frowning, he stepped forwards. Was one of them injured? Now that he looked past their faces, he paled to see the bright blood coating each of them in at least one area. Annabeth and Luke appeared to be the most covered.
"Good gods, are you all right?" he asked, hurrying towards them.
"We're fine," Annabeth quickly deflected, coming to a slow, gentle stop. "But Percy needs help."
Poseidon opened his mouth to ask what the girl was talking about, when she slowly lowered herself to kneel on the ground. She deposited her cargo in the grass, the son of Hermes lowering himself to rest the same load. The god blinked. In his haste to spot his son in the runners, he hadn't noticed that the blondes were running a set distance apart, holding something between them.
A pale, nearly dead body belonging to the one and only Percy Jackson.
Swallowing his tears and his horror, Poseidon barked, "To Olympus!" In a flash, the seven beings disappeared from the trees. The only sign that they were ever there was a line of trampled grass and a dark stain of blood in the dirt.
Hey guys! Ok, so next chapter will be December 9, because I have a TON of things to do this coming weekend and will have little time to work on this. Hope you liked the chapter! :) Thanks! :)
