Disclaimer: I am not, and will never be, Rick Riordan. Sadly, this means I don't own Percy Jackson.

Warnings: Swearing, self-edited, PTSD symptoms.

"Do I dare disturb the universe? In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

-T.S. Eliot

Percy and Hazel were dozing off against each other when the car pulled up.

Judging by the clock on a gas station sign nearby, Percy realized blearily, their ride was also nearly half an hour than expected.

Either there was a magical bypass he forgot sometime around the last apocalypse, or his mom managed to break half a dozen traffic laws coming out of New York. Percy didn't care.

He nearly broke his own ankle standing up to run, steadied by a warmly amused Hazel as he tripped over himself, just in time to see someone getting out of the car in the same hurried manner.

"Mom," he gasped.

It was one step, two—then Percy was wrapped in the most suffocating hug of his life. It was tight enough to crack his ribs all over again, and his eyes stung as he felt his mom run a kind hand over his locks, pressing a kiss to them.

At twelve and short, Percy was practically smothered by her jacket, forced onto the tips of his toes so he could wrap his arms around her neck as he breathed her in. Her breathes were harsh and ragged to his ears; Percy just hugged her harder as his heart pounded in his ears. Overall, he was more than a little uncomfortable.

It was also completely wonderful, and Percy never wanted it to stop.

Then, like Percy was being spun around on the best carousel of his life, Grover was right there. They shared the brief crushing hug of best friends Percy vividly remembered making an art out of over the years—even if the satyr did not.

He stumbled a bit as Grover let go, the satyr letting out a bray of joyful laughter. Percy gave him a slightly dopey grin, feeling more than a little dazed by the onslaught of affection after days of imprisonment, from his mom, Grover, and—oh.

("Come back alive, Seaweed Brain, and we'll see.")

"Hi," Percy said hoarsely. With her blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, jacket collar popped around her ears, and chin tilted upwards, Annabeth looked as distant as her divine mother.

When she didn't say anything, Percy looked down at his feet, a stone of guilt settling in his stomach. "I'm sorry. For everything."

Her face remained as stony as he'd ever seen it, and Percy felt about two inches tall as he stared at Annabeth helplessly.

What was she doing here?

The longer they looked at each other awkwardly, the more Percy could see that more than distant or severe, Annabeth looked like she was keeping herself together through sheer strength of will. Her cheeks and nose looked raw, like she'd been wiping away at them, and her posture had a brittle quality Percy hadn't seen go away since Arachne, last time.

Percy felt like he could guess why she looked like this now.

Struggling through emotion manifested as an decent impersonation of a brick wall for her; most people could be fooled into thinking it was typical demigod stubbornness, but two people who'd known her for years knew better.

Grover was looking at her from the corner of his eye worriedly, and Percy felt a surge of affection for his best friend. If Annabeth was going to insist on being here to strangle him, at least she had someone she trusted keeping an eye on her.

After what seemed an eternity, Annabeth broke the stare-down.

"You're reckless, Percy Jackson," she finally pronounced, her voice thick. "And you definitely keep too many secrets to yourself."

. . .Okay.

That was. . .okay.

He thought. She wasn't wrong, anyway.

Percy nodded dazedly in agreement, and Annabeth shook her head with a sigh, before punching him lightly on the shoulder. She then gave him a quick hug, like awkward long-lost cousins at a family reunion.

Percy felt like smoke was coming out his ears.

She studied him critically, and the thunder swirling in her eyes abated, just a little. Her grey eyes lingered on his hair as she spoke, verging on pleading. "Don't think we're not going to have a long conversation really soon. I need answers, Percy. After everything, I deserve them."

"Yeah. Definitely," Percy managed, "You came."

Annabeth looked at him strangely as she began to pick at the edges of her navy windbreaker. "I was upset, Seaweed Brain. I still am."

Percy couldn't help it. The nickname, spoken with something resembling friendliness for once, made what was left of his brain short-circuit. Hazel nudged him, and Percy could see the soft look of understanding on her face out of the corner of his eye.

A bitter taste still continued to bubble up in the back of his throat, but the guilt loosened, just a little, at what she said next.

"I'm going to be upset about. . ." Annabeth trailed off, her voice beginning to wobble. She visibly swallowed as she collected herself, and Percy wished there was something he could do other than stand there like a lump. Eventually, she looked up at him, finding her words. As always.

"I'm going to be grieving Luke for a long time, Percy. It didn't mean I wasn't going to come and make sure you hadn't gotten killed yet. I know we haven't gotten along, but I still care, and I. . .I'm glad you're not dead."

Percy gave her what was probably a rather stupid smile. "I'm glad you're here, Annabeth."

Hazel nudged him gently. Percy amended himself. "We're glad you're here, Annabeth."

Annabeth's mouth curved upwards, ever so slightly, before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Good to know. We have a lot to talk about," she said seriously, "Including just how in the name of Hades you're not dead, when Luke's—gone. The camp's been going insane looking for you, and if the Titan Lord's back, we'll need everything you have."

Show me his sacrifice was worth it, she didn't say as she spoke. Show me that you're someone I can rely on, and who won't be lost.

Show me we can still be good friends.

Well, that last one was probably just Percy's fevered daydreams. But he liked to think it was there somewhere. Someday. If she still wanted.

("Come back alive, Seaweed Brain, and we'll see.")

"Everything, huh?" Percy asked, his shoulders feeling a bit lighter. "You have me and my magic pen at your service."

We can be, he didn't say. I won't let you down.

Something crossed her face as she looked at him—something he hadn't seen since they had died on the Acropolis—that Percy would've been brave enough to name when he was younger, and less scared of having things ripped away from him.

Hopeful. Trusting. Maybe.

But Percy heard the message loud and clear.

Annabeth's eyes softened. For some reason, this made Percy hit the panic switch in his brain. "I'm fine, though. Really. You didn't have to come, we're not under attack or anything, grateful as I am. We're not hurt."

As predicted, his mom took the opportunity to call him a liar and scold him, pointing out the rust-colored stains that were still on his t-shirt, and Percy had rarely been so relieved for it.

"Never again, Percy," she said firmly, looking him up and down again for injuries that Percy was suddenly very grateful were long gone. "I know you can't promise me that you'll not go on quests or stay out of danger, but. . .please don't disappear like that. I can't do that again, sweetheart."

Percy's gut twisted suddenly as he thought about what it would have been like in the other timeline, when he'd been gone for months, only for when he finally turned up alive, to go haring off on a doomed quest to save the world.

He had never seen her again. Ever.

Thank you, Your Bovine Majesty.

"I'll try," he said, his throat tight as his mom looked at him, pleading and resigned all at once.

He meant it, she nodded, and that was the end of it. Nothing else could be done when Percy refused to make his mom promises that he couldn't keep this time around.

She deserved the best.

"We'll hold you to that, P-Perce. And, uh, who's your. . .friend?" Grover sent another questioning glance in the direction of Hazel, who had been standing awkwardly off the side so far, and Percy's palms started to become sweaty.

It had only been a few minutes, but Percy knew he could tell that something was off with Hazel's demigod scent, and after all that Percy had told them happened, he certainly wouldn't let it lie. He wouldn't recognize it because she wasn't Greek, but Grover didn't know that. If she were literally anything but Big Three, maybe they could've passed her off as some rando minor god Grover had never seen, but as it was, she stunk too much.

One of these days, Percy was really going to have a word with whoever set that system up. Because it sucked.

"You're a demigod, then?" Mom asked, looking torn between protectiveness and keeping her guard up. Hazel nodded, Grover looked even more suspicious, and Percy desperately hoped their quite honestly horrifically bad plan worked—and when he thought it was a terrible idea, Percy knew it didn't stand much of a chance.

It was a very short plan, if nothing else: Hazel would meet Grover and Annabeth, she'd be introduced to Camp Half-Blood, and it might be fine. Everyone would be a little suspicious—because even Percy had to admit that finding three children of Hades within the span of three months, after a decades-long oath to sire no more children, even if you assumed the best, was just a little bit sketchy—but it would work out fine.

Probably.

Maybe.

He'd have to come back to that one. Later.

Hazel, meanwhile, was seemingly unfazed. "Yes, unfortunately. I'm Hazel Levesque. Percy and I met when the both of us were trying to escape from Othrys."

Even as one of the worst liars Percy had ever met, she did a good job keeping cool. For a moment, Percy thought they might fall for it at least for a little while, and give them a chance to figure out a real idea for integrating the two camps to fight Kronos.

Then Annabeth pinned him with an all-too-familiar look that said Really? so loudly and effortlessly Percy was shocked he didn't have a sudden onset of tinnitus.

"You just found each other," Grover said tiredly. "In the palace of the Lord of Time, where you were held prisoner."

Percy's mom looked similarly disbelieving, and Percy had to tamp down the urge to grimace.

"The two of you happened to meet, while being held prisoner. . . by a Titan," Annabeth added incredulously. "Of course. That's a completely logical and believable scenario."

"You weren't there, you don't know what happened," Percy said defensively, reflexively trying to patch up the half-truth. "For all you know, we could've met, I dunno, Daedalus."

Hazel's eyes gleamed interestedly at that, recognizing the accidental reference to the previous timeline, while Annabeth snorted derisively. "Daedalus has been dead for millennia. And even if he weren't, he'd never consider helping a Titan."

Under his breath and too quietly for anyone to hear, Percy muttered, "Then have I got news for you, Owl Head."

"What did you call me?" Annabeth demanded. Or not too quietly.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Just talking myself. It happens," Percy said with a wince, both at her annoyance and the memories of Daedalus, who he hadn't really thought about in. . .had it really been years? Of course, he'd helped them in the end, but not before almost selling out all of Camp Half-Blood. ("Your cause is doomed, my dear.")

While Percy had loved Mrs. O'Leary, he'd never forgotten the reason the Battle of the Labyrinth had been able to even take place.

"No, you called me something involving an owl." Annabeth shook her head; Percy shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "You've done that before, too, calling me something. Ages ago, back in May, you called me your. . .girlfriend."

She said it as if she were on the verge of a breakthrough, and Percy tried very, very hard not to freak. Thankfully, she seemed to be trying to come up with some kind of explanation that would actually make sense.

"Sure, I suppose. I don't really remember what I said. Sorry." He didn't sound sincere at all, even to himself. Annabeth opened her mouth, doubtless to press the issue further, but Hazel intervened.

"Could I suggest that this wait until tomorrow?" she asked, trying to save Percy's bacon. "I don't really know what this is about, but it's been a very long time since I've been able to sleep somewhere that isn't a cell, and Percy and I didn't exactly walk out of Othrys."

"Hazel's right," Percy agreed quickly, "It's been a long. . .week? Ish? Five days? I'd sail into the Sea of Monsters for some sleep in a real bed."

It was, he thought, a perfectly normal statement that would get everyone focused on the prospect of leaving and not talking about all the Unexplained Stuff Percy Had Nothing To Do With.

Instead, everyone looked at him strangely, and Percy wondered if he'd been concussed at some point and slipped into Latin without knowing it.

"Percy. . ." Mom said slowly. "It's been a little over two weeks."

Annabeth nodded confusedly. Grover just looked worried. "Percy, are—are you okay?"

Percy blinked, and looked at Hazel. As her hands continued to wring a bit of her ragged dress, she added gently, "Don't you remember, Percy? They didn't try and mess with our perception too much. We counted at least fourteen days."

Percy continued to look at her blankly. Hazel's eyes widened, and she started to look slightly afraid. "I wished you happy birthday a few days ago. Remember?"

Well—he did, actually.

Remember his birthday. Remember their days in Kronos's lovely hospitality. Really, Percy wished he remembered a bit less of it. That wasn't the problem as he froze up yet again.

His brain just hadn't put all of that together to get two weeks. Of course, Triton had mentioned fifteen days, but Percy's mind had been stuck on other things at the time, and it hadn't registered. It certainly hadn't really felt like two weeks, divided up into fourteen neat little days of torture and threats and Kronos doing the Buff Gollum routine and gods no Luke please no listen—

It was more like one long blur of hell, and Percy would be one to know. He sighed, again wishing that just once, he could just function normally after fighting out of Tartarus.

Hazel sidled over to him, nudging his elbow. "Percy. Are you good?"

Percy nodded, quickly mouthed Tartarus as apologetically as he could, and she quickly paled, before nodding in understanding. "Oh, that. Right, I'd forgotten about that. Silly me, I guess."

The rather unconvincing self-rebuke was targeted towards the non-time travelers. Unfortunately, they'd already been watching rather carefully.

"Tartarus? What does that have to do any of this?" Annabeth asked curiously, her eyes flicking back and forth between Hazel and Percy. "Percy, you're not making sense."

His hands involuntarily clenched at the perfectly reasonable question, ("We're staying together. You're not getting away from me. Not again.") and Percy swore to himself that Annabeth would never fall into Tartarus again, over a giant magical statue or absolutely anything else. "Nothing. Tartarus has nothing to do with nothing. Er, anything. I mean, swearing, but I don't really use it for swearing. Except now, I suppose. Yeah, now."

"Percy, you're babbling," Mom said, not unkindly. "What's the point you're trying to make?"

"And I don't know what it is you—or Hazel—are hiding, but you have to do better than that. Swearing, honestly," Annabeth interjected, exasperated. "Whatever this is, you are doing a terrible job of hiding it recently."

"Recently?" Percy bit out, feeling angrier "I'll give you recently—"

The irrational feeling of panic began to rise again, and it must have shown on his face, because his mom cut in before anyone could truly get into it.

"Percy, you can trust everyone here," she said her voice so perfectly understanding and gentle it took all Percy had not to start talking right then. Or bawling. Underwater temper tantrum or no, bawling was not off the table. "Whatever has happened, I'm here for you, and so are Grover and Annabeth. I love you, and if something's happened to either of you, you aren't alone. You or Hazel."

Hazel choked at this, her hands leaping to cover her mouth, and Percy remembered late nights in Alaska as she haltingly explained, Frank with one comforting arm around her shoulder, and blankets Percy had stolen covering all three of them, what had happened to her and her mother in the land beyond the gods. What her mother had done right before Hazel had lost her, and what Hazel had done to save her from the Fields of Punishment.

And here was Percy's mother, offering everything right there.

"I don't know what it is," Grover continued, oblivious, and looking so anxious it hurt. "I don't care what it is, and neither does your mom or Annabeth. We do care when you're hiding things, really obviously dangerous things, and doing a really bad job of it."

"You're not alone, Kelp Head," Annabeth added, picking up the threat of the apparent intervention now, "Infuriating as you are, we won't let you be, if you stop trying to go at whatever the Hades this is alone."

I miss you, Percy didn't say.

I miss both of you, and you're right here.

"Well, are you?" Annabeth persisted when Percy didn't immediately respond. It wasn't harsh, per say, the way she said it, but it was clear she wasn't going to accept anything that didn't scan as less than the unvarnished truth. "Are you going to stop trying to get around whatever this is?"

I want you back.

Percy had been hoping he'd at least make it through the quest for the Golden Fleece before he got the first ultimatum.

Almost against his will, his mind immediately flashed to the consequences if he went with his initial thought. The reaction fueled by blinding panic at the imminent nightmare that was facing down the return of a bitter Titan who had not only managed to war against his own children for ten years, but had knowledge of just about every idea, every tactic his enemies would try.

It hit him like a gut punch, playing before him in his mind's eye.

Loss of what was left of Annabeth's trust—loss of Grover's trust.

Percy suddenly remembered how tired his best friend had begun to look when Percy would bullshit his way out of things before he and Luke had been kidnapped. The way he had picked up on all the little inconsistencies, the things that just didn't add up about how Percy acted. How Percy had brushed off his worries, saying he was imagining it.

And it certainly wasn't his twelve-year-old self's well-intentioned I'm sure there are no monsters here, and genuine Are you sure that's your Uncle Ferdinand?

It was a grown demigod's well-calculated partial lies, and his well-founded assumptions that he knew better. And what did that look like, coming from Percy as he was now?

And then, oh gods, he could almost see his mother aging before his eyes. What, precisely, would happen when Percy would begin to insist on disappearing to tie up loose ends—because it would happen. Percy had a list. Places to find ("Tell them the great god Pan is dead."), people to rescue ("Plant a garden in Manhattan for me, will you?"), monsters to kill ("Ah, he only regenerates every three centuries or so. . .").

She'd take it, because she was his mother and more awesome than Percy would ever deserve. But—

("My greatest fear is you'll never come back. And I'll still be here, wondering.")

And that, he found, was as far as he needed to think on that particular scenario.

Percy didn't want to be alone.

Far more importantly, Percy knew, as well as he knew himself, that if he didn't trust them with something now, he would never get them back. Ever. That kind of trust couldn't be fixed. Not like they had been—not what they could be.

Not to mention that Hazel would kill him.

Percy sighed, looked at the daughter of Pluto in question, who gestured back at him, the intent clear. Percy fought the urge to make a face.

It was simple, really. Eerily so. Just a few sentences, and it was out. No longer just two demigods against the world.

Oh yes, four demigods, a mortal and satyr is so much better. Dirt Face is shaking right now in her sleep, the contrarian in him grumbled, if only because Percy figured he'd earned the right to bitch at least a little about everything.

Only Hazel had at least lived through the last few months against Gaea. She knew enough to realize the stakes as a veteran of a supernatural war.

The Titanomachy and how well they weathered those years—how they won—would be so, so important. Most importantly, to Percy, it could mean people living. Friends who hadn't gotten a chance before.

The thought of a world where Nico had two sisters instead of one, where Silena wasn't killed trying to save the camp she'd been manipulated into betraying, where Artemis didn't lose so much of her Hunt, where whole cabins hadn't been decimated. It helped him breathe, just a little bit more.

Percy did made a face at Hazel, indulging the childish instinct of I don't wanna. Futilely, he hoped some levity would make him feel just a little bit less like he was going to pass out.

She snickered, but Percy didn't miss the minute signs of relief in her shoulders as she figured out what he was going to do. Hazel Levesque, one of the best people he knew, thought he had made the right choice.

Percy nodded to himself once, and then opened his mouth, before closing it again, the words sticking in his throat. He grit his teeth, and firmly told his subconscious to fucking grow up.

This was three people who'd trusted with everything last time. He could do it.

Right as soon as his lungs were functional again.

("Chaos and Ananke, you are a mess, Perseus.")

He made himself listen to the waves crashing against the sand dunes behind him, and let his heartbeat slow in time to it. To calm himself down, he thought through just what, exactly, he'd be saying to sum up six years of his life. Of their lives too, technically.

Holy Hera, where did he begin?

Other than her. Percy wasn't ever letting the amnesia thing go.

The suffocating sensation passed, and Percy rolled his shoulders, straightening himself up. Very deliberately, he looked Grover, Annabeth, and his mom in the eye in turn, gauging them. Hazel came to stand by his left, squeezing his hand encouragingly.

("Because you're my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?")

"And before I tell you. . .anything, I wanted to say that I'm not crazy. For the record," Percy tacked on, feeling a little foolish. He swallowed, and ran through his fingers through his hair, lingering on where he knew the grey hair would now be. "But that probably doesn't help."

I can't be alone anymore.

I can't.

He didn't say it, but he silently pleaded they knew.

A brief moment of silence passed that Percy didn't read too closely. Finally, out of excuses, and feeling like he was seeing that battlefield all over again instead of the peaceful beach, he breathed in.

Something intelligent, concise, and mature to start off. Clearly explaining what happened, and the stakes at hand.

"I'm a time traveler," he blurted out, "Six years from now, Gaea's going to wake and destroy the world, and pretty much literally eat us all for breakfast."

Brilliant. Positively smashing, Jackson.

Percy grimaced and kicked himself for his big mouth.

But nothing happened.

Gaea didn't swallow him whole out of timeline-hopping spite. Zeus didn't appear in front of them to electrocute demigods, the weird soul-link thingy with Kronos which Percy was trying very hard not to think about didn't burn. The Minotaur didn't even spontaneously appear for old times' sake.

The Minotaur probably would've been more comforting, now that Percy thought about it. No one was saying anything.

As irrational as the fear of voicing the truth had maybe been, it had been constraints. It had given him some direction, dividing apart the lists of the Do's and Do Not Even Think About It's.

Feeling like the ground was falling away from beneath his feet, Percy began to ramble, eyes firmly on his dirty shoes.

"Gaea—the Earth Mother, probably shouldn't say her name—the Gigantes, they woke her up, right in front of the Parthenon. We failed to stop her, and. . .everyone died. But we, Hazel and I, something sent us back. Someone. The Fates, maybe. Definitely wasn't anyone on the Council, seeing as they were, uh, dead."

No one said anything.

"I was eighteen then—and still am. Or nineteen now, technically. I remember all of it. Or I lived it. Didn't really get the details, which would have been really helpful, but no," Percy said mockingly. He swallowed, acknowledged the panic coursing through his veins, and then shoved it down. He clenched his fists so tightly his nails nearly drew blood. "We can't do something that would help us out, of course not. So."

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

"The world ended," Percy rasped. He wondered if this was what the gods felt like, living through the deaths of their children. "But we didn't."

No one said anything. Nothing happened.

Percy finally looked up out of sheer awkwardness, only to see identical looks of bewilderment. "Please. . .please say something."

Grover wasn't looking at him. His mom raised a hand, as if she was going to hug Percy again, then dropped it.

It was at last Annabeth, unsurprisingly, who articulated a reaction first.

Her face was a perfect storm, emotions crossing and leaving quickly, and while she was looking at Percy, her gaze was determinedly fixed on his left shoulder. "There is nothing to say to that. If this is your idea of a joke, I have to say it's a creative one, Percy."

Percy crossed his arms, and just stared at her, deadpan.

"Time travel. Time travel," Annabeth insisted, incredulous, "That's pure science fiction, and we're demigods."

Grover nodded slowly in agreement, his face beginning to screw up in a familiar look of concentration. Trying to get a bead via the empathy link, Percy figured. Figure out if Percy was off his rocker or setting records as the universe's favorite punching bag.

It had been a while since Percy had been scared enough to feel sick.

His mom kept looking him up and down, and her voice was strained when she spoke. "So, would that mean you're—"

"It's not like I'm from a different universe or anything," Percy hurried to explain, worried she would get the wrong idea, "It's not an episode of the Twilight Zone, where there's a very confused mini-me wandering around in another reality. I'm still me, still Percy, just. . .older, mentally."

Still your son. Please, please believe me. He did not just confess to lose his mom and wind up living year-round with Clarisse at camp.

She instead just nodded jerkily, the fear not quite leaving her face. "And if this time travel took place, then there was a—a reason why?"

An angry goddess got woken up by a nose bleed and killed us all, Mom. But even he still had enough self-control to not say that. Percy said succinctly, "Like I said, the world ended, and we all died. It sucked."

Grover must have felt something from that, because his eyes flew wide open, looking white as a sheet. "Styx, Percy, that's. . .gods, that was not—are you okay?"

Percy hadn't anticipated his whole tell-friends-the-truth resolution to be tested so soon. But this was Grover, he reminded himself. He didn't judge, and contrary to his claims, didn't scare easy.

If only the answer wasn't equally scary.

". . .No. No, I think I'm a bit of a mess, actually." As he said it, Percy couldn't help but give a slight watery laugh at the biggest understatement of the millennia.

The terror-induced nausea was still there, and Percy's palms were too sweaty to even imagine holding a sword, but Grover gave him an encouraging look anyway. His body language was still twitchy, but he didn't look like he was looking for the nearest escape route anymore. "Okay. That's okay, P-Perce. And the. . .time travel?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Percy felt his lips twitch at the way Grover barely got the words out without all the mockery they would have deserved under just about any other circumstances that were reasonable and not installments in Percy Jackson's Excellent Demigod Adventures.

He would've been no better, if the situations were switched.

"Yes, I'm curious to hear about how this happened, if you're telling the truth," Annabeth said, walking the fine line between sarcastic and genuinely curious; she probably meant both, Percy suspected. Fucking time travel. How was this his life? "The world ended? Did the Titans. . .win a war? With Gaea?"

"No, actually. Believe me, we were all as surprised as you are," Percy said dryly. He almost felt fond, thinking of those months where they had all been half-convinced that they would wake up one morning and find the camp burned to the ground by Kronos's forces. Amazing what two years and a successful apocalypse could let you think of something. "But Olympus didn't fall. It was hard, and we—we lost a lot of people."

We killed a lot of people.

Percy didn't say that, though, willing himself to stay calm. Pretend he was detached.

"And the Great Prophecy?" Annabeth asked, unafraid. "If you know what's going to happen?"

Pretend I'm detached. Hah. Percy inhaled sharply. "I'm not telling you. I've learned my lesson there enough times for it to stick, and enough's changed it could already be different."

"Bianca and Nico?" Annabeth said shrewdly, clearly already forming a theory, even if she didn't believe him yet. Percy shrugged sheepishly. "And. . .Hazel?"

Another shared glance between Hazel and Percy, before he gestured to the world at large. "Whatever you want to say, Hazel."

"Later. We have a lot to get through, and I don't really. . .come into it."

Considering she was dead, and all that. Percy wouldn't complain about the explanations. The sun was beginning to touch the horizon, turning the blue sky into fire as the day wound down.

Also, his head still hurt, and explaining the existence of Roman demigods seemed much more doable after a meal, multiple showers, twelve hours of sleep, and a promise from everyone not to kill them.

"Okay, if you want to do that, fine, but what about us?" Annabeth asked suspiciously. "I mean if you're telling the truth. . .you're talking about an apocalypse, Percy. About at least one major god or goddess breaking nearly every Ancient Law in existence to rewrite history. I'm sorry, but I need more proof before believing something this outlandish."

"Like personal information? We knew each other pretty well last time," Percy said, choking back a more biting retort. Hazel started coughing, and Percy gave her a warning look.

Annabeth, thank the Fates, did not pick up on this. "Sure. Tell me about my siblings."

Her siblings, who Percy had yet to meet in this timeline outside Nestor, and very briefly running into Malcolm at the rock-climbing wall once. Gods, more people Percy hadn't thought about in ages.

"Outside Nestor, who got accepted to Cornell in April, but hasn't told anyone beside you yet because you're next up as camp counselor, and he's still worried either one of you will be killed before he can leave?" he asked, searching his memory for something that had actually happened already, "You'll be great, honestly, and should take Malcolm as your second."

Annabeth's jaw dropped, and Grover choked. His mom, meanwhile, had gone white, and an appalled look on her face.

"Percy," she murmured, her eyes welling up, much to Percy's horror. "Percy. Please tell me that I'm wrong. Your face, I. . .dear God. Only six years?"

Percy gave her a bitter smile. "Hi, Mom."

"How long has it been?"

"A. . .a while. A year."

His voice cracked, and his mom was about to cry, and now Grover looked ready to cry, and Percy just wanted to end it all, so he went for the one thing he knew that would convince anyone who mattered. ("Percy. Read the rest.")

"And there's something else, that I suppose that I should've lead with. Annabeth knows it," Percy added off-handedly.

Annabeth gasped. "Not—"

"A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds," he recited, hollow, "And see the world in endless sleep—"

"The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap," Annabeth finished softly. She was looking at Percy like she'd never seen him before. "A single choice shall end his days, Olympus to preserve or raze."

("Percy, you've had enough on your shoulders—"

"Without realizing I was going to die in the end anyway?")

"That's R-A-Z-E, by the way," Percy added, embracing the morbidity. He felt like they were discussing his funeral requiem. "You had to tell me, the last time. To destroy."

Annabeth had now upgraded to very freaked out, the whites of her eyes visible in the dim light, and Percy would've apologized, if he hadn't known she'd scold him. At the end of the day, she wanted knowledge. She wanted the truth, and Percy had given it to her.

"O-Okay," she said, sounding slightly strangled. "Percy Jackson. You make it to sixteen, then. You determine the prophecy. Not. . .not anyone else."

She may as well have screamed Thalia's name into the sky. Thalia, who had lived her entire life pursued by monsters over a prophecy from before she was born. Thalia, who had been convinced her baby brother's death was Beryl Grace's fault.

Thalia, who was still a pine tree.

"Yeah," he breathed, his head somewhere else for a moment as he thought of the daughter of Zeus. "It was me."

Percy didn't know if it would be him either this time; it had taken a very specific set of circumstances for Thalia to both have the ability and desire to jump out of the lineup. She'd loathed the Hunters before their quest for Artemis, last time.

"Percy?"

"Hmm—huh? What?" Percy shook himself.

Grover repeated himself, looking a little green. "P-P-Percy, I was expecting you to say that a Titan had recruited you. I have nothing to say. You should be, well, dead at eighteen."

"I was," Percy pointed out, feeling slightly offended at the implication that he would ever join Kronos. As bad as the gods could be, they liked keeping the human race intact. The majority of the time that didn't involve certain gods.

This didn't help Grover, who just looked even greener. An ominous creaking noise came from the pipes in his hand as he moaned, "Not. Helping. But to make it, Perce, that's. . .amazing, I—"

"No, no it isn't," Percy said uncomfortably at the awe creeping into Grover's voice. "Don't say that. Don't."

"Look, I know it was probably difficult, but you look fine, at least, even if you've had some. . traumatic stuff. I know I'm not exactly going to be useful for. . .time travel," Grover said, still unable to say the phrase seriously, "But I can try and help heal from whatever you've seen."

Percy blinked. "Bigger problems, G-Man. And I look twelve, of course I look fine."

"You hold yourself like Luke after that thrice-damned quest. And bigger problems? If you don't have PTSD, I'll eat my—"

"Boys," Percy's mom interrupted. "This is a conversation we can continue later. I believe we all want to go home."

"Thank you—"

"And we will, Percy," she said sternly. "Believe me on that."

Percy gulped. That tone was never a good sign. "Hey, time travel? Remember? Shouldn't we talk about all that, now that you've apparently decided that I'm not completely insane?"

"Oh, the jury's still out on that," Annabeth muttered, not letting anything keep her off-kilter for long. "We just know you're not delusional."

"Hey!"

"You ran around for three months convinced no one would notice that you are literally trying to rewrite six years' worth of what's apparently pivotal history," Annabeth said, unamused by any of it. "As a twelve-year-old that half of Olympus wants dead."

Percy looked to Hazel for help, who gave an apologetic shrug. "She isn't completely wrong."

From anyone else, it would've sounded snarky; but from Hazel, it was nearly annoyingly sincere, and that was nearly worse.

"I can deal with it," Percy muttered annoyedly, sounding like he was two. "I know what I'm doing this time."

Correction: You know what's coming this time, idiot.

"You traveled in time too, didn't you?" Grover asked Hazel. "K-Kronos knew somehow, and that's how you found each other at Othrys."

She nodded, biting her lip as she stayed silent; if Percy had a battlefield of memories and questions to navigate, hers was an entire war. "Not as far as Percy; there's only a few months' difference for me. I am thirteen, almost fourteen."

"How did that work?" Annabeth wondered. Her gaze was sharp as she studied Percy and Hazel like they were strangers.

Hazel fell silent. Percy ran his hands over his face, unsure whether it was a reflexive reaction to Annabeth's prodding, or the fatigue kicking in again. His mom, thankfully, noticed before Hazel was forced to answer. She looked at Percy, and whether it was because she thought he was still hurt and not saying anything or just tired, his mom intervened before they took on the Demigod Inquisition.

"As the only driver here—time travel or not—we need to start leaving now," she advised firmly. "I don't know what kind of monsters would be attracted at night by all of you, and I have no intention of finding out."

The fact Percy could immediately think of three separate monsters he'd fought that would fit the bill said something very, very depressing about his life.

"Percy and Hazel can sleep in the car. It's a rather long ride back, and I don't like my chances of rewriting traffic laws again," Mom added, an air of melancholy humor accompanying her words.

Annabeth nodded vigorously in agreement, while Grover whimpered, "Yes, please don't."

Percy couldn't bring himself to laugh. And with that, the five of them began to walk back to the car in a heavy silence.

Annabeth's eyes kept flicking back to Percy, switching between intense curiosity and the telltale beginnings of naked fear that Percy wished he didn't know so intimately. She muttered to herself in Greek.

Grover began to nervously chew on the collar of his sweater as he walked along the sand, his rasta cap twisted over and over again in his hands. For his part, Percy stuck close to a worryingly blank-faced Hazel, his mom on his other side.

He tried not to think too hard about everything. Instead, he focused on divining the source of the myriad aches that were now putting forth complaints.

Gods, was he not looking forward to going back to Camp Half-Blood.

They were almost halfway back when Percy's mom sidled up closer, and carefully put her hand on his shoulder.

"Is—is this still alright with you?" she questioned quietly, the pads of her fingers barely touching Percy's ratty t-shirt.

"It's great," Percy murmured, smiling weakly.

Her arm settled around his shoulders more securely. He leaned his head against his mom, and they stayed like that for the rest of the walk as daylight faded.

A/N: Hey, look at these kids making somewhat emotionally healthy decisions for once in their lives. Only took. . .all of that other nonsense.

If we're laying all cards on the table, I loathed this chapter. The Confession (TM) has been coming for a long time, but this just felt like one mess after one another, writing-wise (Which may be what works, I don't know). Part of it is that we're restricted to Percy's POV, and there's a lot going on inside everyone else's heads, so there's a bit of unreliable narrator at work.

This was the first half of about 14K words that I couldn't really edit down to what I wanted for one chapter, so if you're wondering why it seems like there's a bunch of loose ends—Hi, Hazel's existence—it's because of that. Next chapter picks up literally thirty seconds later after this.