Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson, Heroes Of Olympus, or anything related to the Percy Jackson Universe. The characters and anything else you recognize belongs to Rick Riordan.

This is a rewrite of Back To The Beginning (Published On: Nov 1st, 2016; Completed On: May 26, 2019).

Chapter One: Don't Care If The World Ain't Ready For Me

The first thought Leo had when he awoke was I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore.

The second thought was more appropriate: What the Hades?

Leo's eyes went from groggily blinking to snapping wide open as he effortlessly rolled upwards and used the momentum to propel himself onto his feet in one fluid motion, reaching for his tool belt, only to find… nothing. No tool belt around his waist, no switchblade in his pocket, and as he checked the rest of himself over, he found all of his weapons gone. The dagger he kept in his boot, the sword he stored in the sheath on his back, the knife he kept in the small sheath on the side of his right pant leg. Even the magical weapon that could turn into a sword, a hammer (or any tool for that matter), a dagger, or even a gun if you put the right combination in was missing from his pocket. The bracelet Hazel had given him, the one that could turn into a small knife (more like a scalpel than anything else, but it had come in handy more often than you would think) had disappeared.

Okay, Leo was starting to panic now. He kept six weapons (seven if you count his tool belt) on him for a reason. That way, when he was captured, monsters and traitors found it hard to locate all of his weapons. The fact that this person or monster or whatever had found each one of his weapons and taken them from him when he was unconscious without tipping him off in the slightest was more than a little frightening.

Not only that, but… Leo felt no pain. As sad as it sounds, he had gotten used to being in pain the past few years. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in pain since the world fell, or as Leo and his fellow survivors called it, The Fall, but now, he felt no pain. No agony from broken bones, no sting of cuts, no fiery pain from stab wounds, not even the deep but dull ache of bruises. He felt… fine.

"Leo Valdez."

Leo jumped, cursing himself for being so stupid as to allow himself to be distracted, and instinct caused him to reach for the sword on his back, only to remember that all of his weapons had disappeared.

The man in front of him did not look dangerous, but Leo knew better than to put stock in appearances. He was shorter than Leo and much older; age was a hard thing to guess, but this guy had to be at least eighty years old with wrinkled skin and thinning silver hair. He wore a golden robe, and his feet were bare, and he even had a small smile gracing his lips.

The only thing that suggested he wasn't an ordinary mortal was his eyes. They were golden like his robe but not cold like the shade of an eidolon's eyes, and when Leo looked into those orbs, he felt his heart jump and had the sensation of being dunked in cold water. Images flashed across his vision, images that were so distant to Leo and yet so clear in that moment, as if the very sight of this man's eyes had conjured memories from the deepest parts of Leo's mind.

His mother, pale and sweaty and exhausted but beautiful as ever smiling down at him….

("Welcome to the world, Leo.")

His mother's silky voice singing softly to him, the most wonderful sound he had ever heard…

("Did you see the flares in the sky?")

Flames dancing around him, Hera, disguised as Tía Callida, humming softly nearby in a rocking chair as Leo caught sparks like fireflies, giggling softly in the hearth…

("Let's see if you have what it takes to become my hero.")

The memories grew darker.

Banging his fists against the warehouse door, earthen robes shuffling closer towards him, the woman's closed eyes and sleepy smile, contrasting sharply with her words, the words that shook Leo to the bone and haunted him for the rest of his life…

("I don't want to fight anybody!"

"Wise choice.")

Foster homes, group homes, orphanages, countless stops on the path of Leo's life. Some memories he cherished and others he would rather forget…

("Diablo!")

("You little worthless brat!")

("Hey, look, it's the freak!")

("Welcome to the family, kid.")

("I love you, Leo."

"I love you, too.")

Getting sent to the Wilderness School, meeting his best friend in the whole world…

("I'm Piper."

"Nice to meet you, Piper. I'm Leo. So tell me… do you actually play the pipes?")

Arriving at Camp Half Blood…

("Well, Leo, welcome to Cabin Nine.")

Building the Argo II…

("Crayon drawing of Destiny. Why not?")

Leaving Camp Half Blood…

("I'll come back, Harley. I promise. We'll see each other again before you know it, Little Brother.")

Firing on the Roman Camp. Or more accurately, being forced to fire on the Roman Camp…

("Why would you do that?!"

"I… I don't know.")

Moments from their quest, bonding with his friends, laughing with them, fighting enemies side by side, growing as people together…

The Fall…

No.

Leo relived The Fall everyday when he wasn't fighting for his life. He would not relive it again because of this guy's weird powers.

Leo pulled his eyes away from the man and examined the room around him.

It wasn't extravagant like most throne rooms Leo had seen. There was a multicolored throne at the front of the room with splatters of blood-red and drops of sky-blue and strokes of inky-black and hundreds of other colors, some of which Leo couldn't even name. The walls were a deep red, so dark it looked brown from certain angles, with unlit torches lining them, each about four feet apart, all around the room. There was no door.

"Who are you?" Leo demanded, forcing his voice to go low and cruel, his tone a merciless growl.

The man rolled his eyes. "Do not use that wolf snarl thing that Reyna Ramírez-Arellano taught you, boy. I am not a mere traitor you can scare or a monster you can fool with confidence and that take-no-prisoners attitude. My name is Chronos. With a C."

The man's voice was strong but not deep or powerful like Leo assumed a primordial's voice would be. It was stern, like a parent scolding a child, and with a matter of fact tone.

"And why am I here, Chronos with a C?" Leo snarked.

He knew he shouldn't risk ticking off the primordial god of time, but after everything Leo had been through, he wasn't putting up with immortals messing up his life anymore.

To his surprise, however, Chronos laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle that caught Leo off guard, and before Leo could think better of it, his defensive stance dropped, and his brow crinkled so that he looked more like a confused little boy than the intimidating warrior he wanted to appear as.

"You never cease to amuse me with that spark of yours," Chronos said once his laughter had subsided, and the amusement on his face only grew as he added, "No pun intended, fire user.

"Anyway, while it is fun for me to speak with someone for the first time in a couple of centuries, we must be getting to the reason you are here."

Leo glowered at Chronos, narrowing his brown eyes. "Yes, we should."

"As I'm sure you're aware, Leo Valdez, Gaea won the war and destroyed the world," Chronos stated, getting straight to the point. "However, this is not the Fate the Fates and I had originally written."

Leo blinked. "Really? I thought the Fates had just screwed us over for the millionth time."

Chronos only smiled, not irritated by Leo's jabs whatsoever. "No, son of Hephaestus, we did not… 'screw you over,' as you so delicately put it. The Fate we originally wrote was this."

Chronos waved his hand, and two of the torches lit, causing shadows to dance between them, crafting images like some weird form of shadow puppets.

"You were supposed to defeat Gaea," Chronos began, voice grave, as the silhouettes on the wall blended to form a scene of a boy falling through open air, a dragon swooping down from the sky above to catch him, and a few of the shadows changed to become orange rather than black to create the illusion of flames all around the boy and the dragon. "The Earth goddess was supposed to fall to fire, but instead, the world fell to storm when Zeus challenged Gaea and was defeated. With the god of the skies gone, Gaea took his power, and her domain was no longer tied to the Earth. The only way to defeat Gaea would be to defeat her in the skies, but when Zeus fell and Gaea absorbed his power-"

"That was no longer an option," Leo finished, remembering the way the sky changed from clear blue to gray with storms to a blinding mixture of silver and blue from several lightning strikes… until the storm clouds cleared away to reveal that the sky was no longer blue but a murky brown and green combination, the sky becoming Gaea's just like the rest of the world.

Chronos nodded, somberly. "Exactly. However, there is a way to reverse the Fall."

That got Leo's attention, and his head jerked up, a hope he didn't dare to acknowledge rising in his chest.

"What do you mean?"

The smile appeared on Chronos's face again. "I am the god of time. I have the power to send you back to before the Fall, to keep it from happening."

Leo laughed. "Time travel? You've gotta be kidding me!"

"After all you have seen and done and experienced, time travel is unbelievable?" Chronos inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Leo opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he didn't have an argument for that. After The Fall, Leo didn't think anything could surprise him anymore.

But there were still a few unanswered questions about this 'plan' of Chronos's.

"If you have the power to do that, why would you wait so long? I was barely sixteen when the Fall happened. I'm twenty-three now. Why did you wait so long?" Leo questioned.

"You're actually twenty-three and three hundred and sixty-four days," Chronos corrected, as if that was relevant. "You'll be twenty-four tomorrow. But to answer your question, sending even a single person through time takes a lot of power, so while I can do it, it takes time for me to gather the energy it takes to accomplish such a feat. The Fates (before they faded) and I agreed to this plan not three days after The Fall. It took almost eight years for me to charge my power enough for this. It might not have taken so long if the Fates hadn't faded so early on."

"That reminds me. Every other immortal except for Gaea and the ones on her side have faded. So why haven't you?" Leo asked.

"Time will never cease to exist, and it can never become Gaea's either," Chronos answered. "The Skies, the Seas, the Underworld… have all become hers. Others, like the Hearth, the Sun, the Moon, have been destroyed. Destroying Time would cause the entire world, the entire universe, to cease to exist. Without Time, there is nothing. No life, no existence. Even Gaea would cease to exist if Time were to be destroyed. She cannot make Time hers because Time is a being. Not like a god or even a Titan. A being. Factor of existence. Like the Earth. Like Tartarus. Like Chaos. These are powers that can never be claimed because they are more than powers. They make up the universe," Chronos explained.

Okay, Leo had seen and heard a lot of weird stuff in his life, but that was definitely in the top ten, he thought as he rubbed his temples, trying to wrap his head around this.

"Okay. Let me see if I've got this straight. You have the power to send me back in time, but it took you almost eight years to have enough energy to do it. And the reason you still exist is because Gaea does not have the jurisdiction to destroy you or claim your power based on some laws of the Universe she can't ignore without destroying the Universe itself," Leo summed up, speaking slowly as he attempted to process this information.

Chronos shrugged, pursing his lips as he thought over Leo's summary. "Pretty much," he finally settled on.

Leo sighed through pursed lips. "All right. That leaves me with one question… well, actually a lot of questions, but only one I really need to ask: why me?"

Chronos frowned. "I am not sure I understand."

"I mean… why me? Why choose me for this mission? Why not Miranda or Quinn or Dakota? Why me?"

"Because, Leo Valdez, you did not give up," Chronos replied. "You watched the world fall; you saw horrors no one can even imagine; you watched so many of your friends die. Percy, Annabeth, Hazel… Piper and Jason. And yet you did not give up. You stayed alive. You kept your fellow survivors alive. And you kept laughing, kept smiling. When Gaea destroyed Hope, you held onto it. You believed that there was a chance to defeat Gaea, even after she won. You believed in a chance, even when the world seemed to prove you wrong everyday. That is what I need."

Leo stared at the wall, at the image still fixed there of him falling through the air with Festus diving down to save him… the image of the way he should have defeated Gaea.

"If I do this… would I be able to save my friends?" Leo asked, voice nearly a whisper.

Chronos's small smile grew. "Child, if you want to save them, you can. If you don't, then don't. But I believe you want that more than anything. However, if you choose to accept, you will be on your own. While I have the power to send you back, I will not have enough energy to maintain contact with you. You will be on your own with no help from me, as much as I wish I had the power to assist you. You must keep that in mind."

Leo kept his eyes on the wall, thinking of Hazel's smile, Piper's laugh, Jason's friendship, the way Harley looked up to him. He thought of all of them: Percy, Annabeth, Frank, Nyssa, Nico.

And he made his decision.

"I accept," Leo decided. He was so tired of fighting; he wouldn't deny that. But if he even had a chance to save those he loved, he had to take it.

Leo Valdez did not smile or laugh or hope for himself. He smiled and laughed and hoped to spread that happiness and hope to other people. Leo Valdez was a candle, and he burned up to give others light, and honestly, he couldn't think of a better way to spend his existence.

Chronos smiled once again, and Leo knew that the primordial did not doubt which option Leo would choose for a single second.

"I thought so. I will be sending you back to your eleven year old body. You will awake at Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, the home of Medusa, where you will meet twelve year old Percy Jackson on his first quest. To prevent the Fall, you must start at the beginning. I will dull your memories. I will not steal your memories by any means, but I cannot have you losing yourself in pain or grief, so the memories will be dulled but still there if you wish to think of them. Good luck, Leo Valdez. May we not meet again."

Leo barely had time to process that last statement before he was spiraling, falling and tumbling and somersaulting into a vortex of shadows and fire and basically getting the worst case of motion sickness ever.

And then he was out like a flame against a harsh wind.

Percy Jackson hated this. He, along with the Queen of Whining and the Goat Boy, were trudging through the woods, stumbling over branches and roots and all around having a very bad day. The trio hadn't conversed (which Percy was grateful for. He was hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and incredibly cranky. He didn't think he could speak without snapping at someone) since Percy had had a rather heated discussion with Annabeth, but when Percy smelled food, things seemed to be looking up.

Percy's stomach growled, and Annabeth was almost drooling as they halted at the top of a high hill overlooking a small diner/shop surrounded by statues, some of which were polished and spotless while others were covered in layer upon layer of dust. Florescent lighting shined through the windows, but that was the only sign of life. A neon sign read something like: Nauty Me's Danger Ognem Pemronimu.

Sorry, Percy's dyslexic, part of the whole demigod thing, so words often get mixed up in his brain. Apparently, his mind is hardwired for Ancient Greek or something like that, according to Annabeth, which is why he struggles to read plain English. Speaking of Annabeth, the son of the sea glanced at her, but she seemed just as confused as he was, which was surprising at first. It was hard to imagine the know it all daughter of Athena having dyslexia, but then again, almost all half bloods had dyslexia and ADHD, and it was a very rare thing when they didn't have at least one.

"Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium," Grover translated. He was undoubtedly nervous; his whiskery chin was even trembling. "I don't know about this, guys. Something smells off."

"Your nose is still clogged from the Furies," Percy pointed out, and he could've sworn he saw a look of hurt flash across his best friend's face, but he was too distracted by the amazing smell of hamburgers and greasy fries to pay much attention to it.

"Yeah, Grover," Annabeth agreed (wow, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase agreeing about something. That's not something you see everyday). "We're all hungry. What can it hurt to stop and eat something?"

Ocean's child and Wisdom's daughter marched ahead towards the building, for once a united front, and the satyr reluctantly followed.

Percy knocked, and the door was swung open by a woman with bone white skin, donning a black dress that covered every bit of her skin except for her hands, neck, and face. A dark cloth encircled her head, concealing her hair, and huge sunglasses hid her eyes.

"Hello, children," she greeted in a sugary sweet voice that sounded puzzled and concerned. "Where are your parents?" She wondered.

"We're orphans," Percy lied, blurting out the first thing that popped into his head, which, in hindsight, was not the best idea. Percy never was a good thinking-on-the-spot kind of guy, and his next words proved his point. "We got separated from our caravan. Our circus caravan. The ringleader told us to meet him at the gas station, but maybe he forgot or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" Percy rambled.

Note to self, leave the improv to Annabeth next time. Speaking of Annabeth, the blonde looked like she was having to resist the urge to face palm.

"Of course! Come on in, dearies," the woman offered, ushering them inside. It should have been odd that the woman had fallen for that lie, but they were too focused on the idea of food to give it much thought. "Please, call me Aunty Em."

"Circus caravan?" Annabeth repeated under her breath, perplexed and disbelieving, once Aunty Em had turned her back on the supposed 'circus orphans'.

"I panicked, okay!" Percy defended himself, but he still flushed slightly because even he could admit that was the worst lie in the history of lies. Still, the lady had believed them. Or maybe she had just thought they looked so pitiful standing on her door step that she couldn't not invite them in, even if they lied to her. Either way, they were in a warm building for the time being and were about to be given food! Percy called that a win.

Aunty Em led them inside and gestured for them to sit at a booth beside a wide window that gazed into the darkness outside. The woman smiled sweetly at them before ushering to the back to whip up some food for the trio while the three of them were left alone.

Grover took advantage of this.

"Look, something's weird, guys," Grover insisted, his voice a low hiss to keep Aunty Em from overhearing. "Don't you remember the prophecy?"

Percy shivered. How could he forget?

The Day Before

Camp Half Blood Attic, Home Of The Oracle Of Delphi.

Percy watched in horrific amazement as the mummy slouched on the tripod suddenly began to move, bones (or whatever you could call them) crackling louder than bubble wrap under the strain of the sudden shifting. The mummy straightened on the three legged stool, its decaying mouth opening, reminding Percy of a black hole, and allowing green mist to emerge from its cracked lips. The emerald green mist engulfed the room, forming a low hanging fog around Percy's ankles before spreading to every corner of the room until all that could be seen was Percy and the mummy.

"I am the Oracle of Delphi," its (her? Percy didn't know how he felt about calling this thing a her, so he settled for referring to the mummy as an it or simply the Oracle) voice was as frail and brittle as her body and yet was piercing at the same time, like nails on a chalkboard. "I am the speaker of prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, Seeker, and ask."

Percy did not move or speak for a moment, as though it took his brain a minute to register the fact that the Oracle was, indeed, talking to him. But once that sunk in, he gulped audibly. He had seen a Fury, a Minotaur, a centaur, a satyr, countless demigods, and a wine god, but the Oracle of Delphi presented a whole new level of creepy- not to mention so eerie, it should have been illegal- to the world Percy had recently discovered.

Percy inhaled deeply, biting back the urge to cough as he breathed in some of the green mist, before speaking, his voice sounding much stronger than he actually felt.

"What is my destiny?" He inquired, and a beat of silence passed. For a terrifying moment, he thought the Oracle would never respond (maybe he didn't have a destiny. Maybe he was just some random kid that happened to be the son of the Sea God. Maybe he was just what he had always thought himself to be: nobody).

However, just when he was about to give into the hopeless feeling growing in his chest, the mist swirled into thick tendrils, like snakes levitating off the ground and slithering through thin air (although, for the record, if that actually happened, Percy really wouldn't be surprised anymore), until it formed walls of green smoke on every side of him. He felt oddly claustrophobic, unable to see past the mist, and he whirled around in a circle, utterly bewildered (even more so than before) by this development.

The mist in the corner beside the Oracle gathered to form a boy. Percy didn't recognize him. It was hard to tell when he was made entirely out of mist, but he appeared to be Hispanic with curly hair, a mischievous smile, and a sharp dagger at his waist. Percy committed the image to memory; he had a feeling this boy would be important sooner or later, and he should probably be able to recognize him when he saw him.

The Oracle began to speak in that same raspy voice that made Percy want to cover his ears, but he resisted the urge to do so. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, reverberating through the room like when they used those echo devices on TV.

"Three shall go west and face the god who has turned.

You will find what was stolen and see it safely returned.

Three will find one more at the monster's lair.

He will protect you with a friend's care.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

You will fail to save what matters most in the end."

Just like that, the mist was sucked back into the Oracle's mouth, like dirt into a vacuum, and Percy caught one last glimpse of the mysterious boy before he dissolved into mist.

The Oracle closed its mouth, and everything was just as it was before, the Oracle lounging on the tripod, like she/it/whatever was nothing more than a mummy in an attic.

As Percy came out of his memory, he saw Aunty Em beckoning them outside, saying something about getting a picture, and now, even Annabeth looked a little nervous. If Grover had looked anxious before, he looked like he was on the verge of fainting now.

But Percy merely laughed off their nerves. After all, it was just one picture. It was the least they could do, considering she had given them food.

"Come on, guys, what can it hurt?" He asked, standing from the booth and following Aunty Em out into the garden.

Outside with his stomach no longer roaring and trying to eat itself, he was able to actually observe the statues. There were dozens of them, all of different subjects. Most were human, but there were a few animals, and Percy thought he even saw a couple 'mythical' creatures, such as the satyr statue beside the bench. But what was odd… was that all of the statues had terrified expressions etched on their stony faces. He noticed one of a dog baring its teeth and standing protectively in front of a young girl with one arm in the process of reaching up to cover her face. Another statue was of a woman and man hugging each other, tightly. Another was of a woman, a shocked expression on her face, frozen in time; another woman was clutching onto her, embracing her in desperation, glancing over her own shoulder at something as she clung to the first woman.

Percy should have known something was wrong, but even Percy would admit that he had always been a bit slow, so before his tiny amount of logic could get through to him, he had seated himself on the bench between two statues: one of a satyr that Grover kept eyeing warily and one of a boy with a sword raised, a cat crouched in a defensive position by his frozen feet. Annabeth and Grover, against their own better judgement, settled themselves on the bench with Annabeth in the middle, Grover on the left by the statue of the satyr and Percy on the right by the statue of the sword-wielding boy and the cat.

That was when Percy noticed something too strange for him to brush it off. Aunty Em had asked them for a picture, so…

"Where's your camera?" Percy wondered.

Aunty Em smiled, and Percy felt a chill run down his spine, every muscle tensing like a rubber band stretched as far as it would go. Every instinct in him was screaming for him to move.

"Oh, I don't need one, dearie," Aunty Em assured him, reaching up to undo the cloth wrapped around her hair. Or what Percy thought was hair. Now that the cloth was no longer bundled tightly around it, he could hear a symphony of hisses sounding from beneath the final layer of the cloth that Aunty Em was about to unwrap.

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelped and dove behind a bush. An impressive reaction time, Percy would admit. Much better than his own, as Annabeth had to shove him off the bench. Percy ended up with his face in the dirt, and he heard Annabeth hurrying to get down as well behind him.

All that could be heard was the sound of hissing snakes, and Percy fumbled for Riptide, but Aunty Em- Medusa- kicked it away from him, and he watched it skid helplessly out of reach.

Medusa knelt down beside him, and Percy clenched his eyes shut. Her hand, cold but smooth for a centuries old monster, stroked the side of his face, and he recoiled in surprise and disgust (but mostly disgust).

"You look just like your father," Medusa murmured, more to herself than to him. "I'm sure you must have his green eyes, as well. Let me see them. Sneak… a… peak."

Percy knew better. The tale of Medusa was one of the few things he remembered from his mythology lessons with Annabeth. Even people who knew nothing about Greek Mythology usually knew Medusa could turn people to stone with a glance, but despite knowing this, despite knowing that he would become yet another statue in her creepy garden if he looked, he couldn't resist the urge to turn his head. It felt like he was in a trance, like he was half asleep, and he was prepared to open his eyes…

"Percy, no!" Annabeth yelled, and she actually sounded worried. Percy didn't think Annabeth was capable of being worried about him.

Then, a disgusting squelching sound was made, and a wet plop! sounded as Medusa's slimy severed head landed a foot away from Percy, thankfully face down.

Leo Valdez promptly crashed to the ground, his dagger flying away from him to land in the dirt, the blade coated with the blood of Medusa.

Word Count (with authors notes): 5300

I used to do trivia, but I'm going to do something different in this rewrite. Fanfiction Recommendations! I will try to stick to the Percy Jackson fandom; the recommendations won't all be Leo Valdez, but I will try to keep them PJO/HOO as much as I can.

The two recommendations for this chapter are:

Stronger Than The Hero's (by bluelightningbug): Most would be presumed blind, if they said that Leo Valdez was the strongest hero of the Seven. After all, none could beat Jason, Percy, or Frank. But Reyna wasn't blind, quite the contrary, in fact. It seemed she was the only one who opened her eyes, and saw the truth for itself, though.

-One Shot

Seventh Wheel (by Vio14): "It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane." ― Philip K. Dick, VALIS. Over time, slowly, Leo cracks- but it's really no surprise, is it?

-One Shot/Drabble