A/N: Hey Demigods! Hope everyone's staying safe and well. A bit of a different chapter this week. Thank you to KateTEnglish, HarmonyHarpshine, alyssa dsouza137 and 27gutzwillriley for the lovely reviews. Each time someone follows, favourite or reviews I do a little happy dance. See you all next week! ~ Emma

"What do you want?" Rory said, his jaw already tense. His mind ran through the possible topics his father might want to shout at him for; swimming, report cards, his mom?

His father smoothed his hair back, though not a hair was out of place. "Why don't you come sit down?"

He weighed up between fighting or walking away. He just wanted to get back to Emma. In the end he decided that going with it would be the fastest way to get back out. He rolled his eyes and went in.

He hadn't been in his father's office before. He hadn't been to many of the rooms in the apartment, just the kitchen and his own room. He didn't spend a lot of time in the building anyway. He tried not to.

His father took a seat on the leather couch at the side of the room. Rory had expected him to sit behind the desk, treating everything as a business meeting as per usual. He couldn't help but wonder if it was…

"Is it mom?" Rory asked hesitantly, not wanting to be right.

"No," his father said quickly. "No this isn't about your mother."

Rory paused before taking a seat beside his father. He couldn't remember the last time they had a proper conversation. Not since he left. He didn't really see why his father would want to start now. His grades were good, he swam well, he didn't get into fights unless you count the one with Evan. Oh.

Rory decided not to say anything until his father did. That was usually the safer way to play it. Instead he looked around, taking in the room. Everything was so perfectly placed and designed in black white and brown. At least his father had the picture perfect life he'd always wanted. At least leaving him behind was worth it. He noticed photos from his father's wedding with Linda, the one he hadn't been invited to. Not that he'd have wanted to anyway. Next to that was a picture of a young boy running around on a beach. Once he saw it, he couldn't stop looking at it. That was L.A. That was… him.

"It's been a few months since you moved here, Rory." His father finally broke the silence. Rory glanced over at his father, his face was so tired he looked almost concerned. It wasn't a look he recognised on his father. "I had thought that maybe, if I gave you some time to cool down, you might start showing up for dinner or being around a bit more. I'm starting to see that that is not going to happen on its own." His father spoke slowly, as if struggling to find the right words. Guess that's what happens when you try to talk to your son after so many years. "I have been trying to get back into your life since the day I told your mother I had to move to New York. I know it is hard on a kid when a parent leaves, but it was not a choice I made lightly."
"You didn't have to stay with mum, you just had to not cheat on her." Rory clenched his jaw. Once he might have started shouting at his dad, letting all those years of anger come out. Not anymore. Now it was just cold hard anger. "You just had to call or write or visit even just once a fucking year."

"I wanted to. I could never just move and forget you."

So now he wanted to feign hurt for what he'd done to himself. Great.

"You're seriously just gonna sit there and lie to me." Rory narrowed his eyes.

His father sighed. "If I tell you the truth as I know it, would you listen? Because I don't see another way of doing this."

"I'll listen, but I can't guarantee that I'm gonna believe whatever lie you decide to spin this time."

Rory slumped back into the couch. He hated being caught up in the middle of his parents. He hated his father for making him sit through this.

"I never cheated on your mom."

Rory snorted loudly. "And I never learned how to swim."

"Rory, I am being serious. We separated when you were about six." His father was trying his best to look earnest.
"If I believe you, which I don't, why not just leave then?" He crossed his arms.

"Because your mother wasn't exactly stable. I couldn't leave you alone with her." His father took a deep breath, rubbing his neck. Rory hated that he got that from his dad. He didn't want to have anything in common with him. "We slept in separate bedrooms, we had our own lives. She thought I would go back to her, so when she found out about Linda she kicked me out."

Rory remembered that night all too well. His mom screaming and crying. His dad shouting at her that he had a right to be with his son. She threatened to call the cops on him until he left.

"So? I'm not mad at you for moving out." Rory laced his fingers, gripping hard. "Even if you didn't cheat on mom, what about when you moved here?"

"I had to move." His father placed his hand on Rory's shoulder. He wanted to shake it off, but his muscles were tight and rigid. "My company closed the LA office, what else could I have done?"

"Call? Visit? Act like you still have a son?" Rory snapped. He couldn't even look at his father. This cold anger was so much more painful than the fire he used to breath. It pricked his eyes and threatened to spill out the boy who burnt his wrist trying to make eggs for his drunken mom.

"I did. I called, I wrote, I kept trying to visit but your mother said you didn't want to see me. I meant it when I said I have been trying to get back into your life." Rory didn't want to see the pain on his dad's face. He didn't want to see the torment. He liked his black and white world and he wasn't ready to learn about grey. "I am sure your mother had her reasons. She thought I was bad for you, she told me that enough. When I finally found out what your mobile number was it was too late. You'd shut me out."

He remembered that too. Coming home from school one day to a message from his dad. He'd asked how swimming was going, asked him about his life and asked to see him. Rory had just gotten mad. He thought his dad was only interested because he'd started to do well – youngest ever captain of the swim team, anger under control.

"I am not asking you to forget what's been. That is not easy, I know that. I am just asking that you give me a chance to earn a place in your life."

Rory wondered if his dad had somehow heard him tell Emma that he wanted to see the best in people the way she did. She couldn't even have a relationship with her dad, good or bad, so would it be fair to throw his shot away?

All he'd ever known were bad relationships with his parents. He loved his mum, but that wasn't exactly a healthy one. Maybe his father didn't care, but then why was he doing this at all? He didn't have anything to gain from it. Maybe it was time to stop taking his dad for granted and give him another chance. At the very least it would take the burden off his shoulders. Hating a parent was exhausting. It exhausted him every day when he got home from school. What did he have to lose? It might even make New York tolerable when Emma was away.

"Alright. I'll try."

His dad just looked at him for a moment. He didn't think he'd ever seen his dad speechless before. A thread of guilt worked its way into Rory's stomach. Maybe his words had held an element of truth.

"Right. Great. Good. Urm Saturday? We can go out for dinner, just the two of us."

"You do realise today is Saturday, right?" A weak smile appeared on Rory's lips.

"Next week then," he amended, sounding a little out of breath. It was only then he realised how difficult that must have been for his dad.

Rory wished he could ask his mom, just to see, but she wasn't exactly prone to telling the truth. Maybe that's why his dad's story made so much sense.

"Next week it is."

Lazy Saturdays were a wonderful thing. Emma always loved spending a day in bed reading her way through a whole book in one sitting. When it was finished she always felt a little strange. She barely knew what to do with herself. She was training with Percy on Sunday, so she supposed she should get on with the chores. She dragged herself out of bed and flicked on the kettle before moving to the pile of letters on her countertop.

Most were the same old rubbish, but amongst the junk mail was a heavy handwritten envelope. She tore it open eagerly, wondering who on earth would be sending her an actual letter. It was the kind of thing her grandparents would do, but the stamps weren't English and there seemed to be a CD inside.

Dear Emma,

EXCUSE ME, BUT WHEN ARE YOU COMING BACK TO CAMP?! I read that book in a day and I NEED to read the next one. It was so good! Gods I love a book without a happy ending. Only criticism - their weapons aren't as cool as they think they are.

Everyone says hi; Sherman, Kit, Rachel and Nyssa, even Malcolm!

Kit wanted you to hear the song he wrote called 'I'll always show you who you love' so he recorded it and put it on that CD along with his experimental cover of 'Kiss the girl' from The Little Mermaid. It's a bit weird, and I'm pretty sure he's singing 'guy' not 'girl' but that's what you get for spending too much time in the sun.

I hope you've decided to pick up the slack on being a cool human and doing cool human things, because I don't think we can be friends if you don't come back with some stories. Unless you bring the second book of course, then you might be off the hook.

Either way you have about two weeks from receiving this letter to get back to camp or risk our friendship being destroyed because I need to read the next damn book!

See you soon!

Lou Ellen Blackstone

Emma felt a tightness in her chest. They remembered her. Was that what having friends was? People who still thought about you when you were gone?

She got up and put the CD on using her old and neglected sound-system. She lay back on the sofa and marvelled at how oddly comforting it was to hear Kits voice. Maybe it was just the way he sang. It was so pure and calming as he strummed along on his guitar. He told the story of her weekend. How she'd fought Sherman, rode a pegasus and been awful at archery, but every chorus was about how she'd found a friend who would always reveal the truth to her. The truth about who she loved.

Though she knew he'd used the word 'Love' with a bit of artistic licence, she had to stop and think. Was she there yet? No. Everyone says if you know, you know. She cared about him, gods she cared about him so much, but love seemed like this big scary storm-cloud that threatened to pull her even further out of her comfort zone. Besides, they were just getting started.

Chores forgotten, she listened to Kit making a song sung by a crab sound like a top 40 hit. She ended up singing along, letting the CD go round and round on repeat. It almost made her feel… homesick.

Maybe it was time to ask Annabeth for another lift out of town.