It was the middle of summer and the heat was unbearable, so naturally, the Blofis-Jackson family decided it was time for ice cream. Sally saved what she was working on in her computer, Paul put aside the rest of the papers he was grading for later, Percy ended the skype call with Frank and Hazel with a promise to continue their catching-up session for later, and Estelle woke up from her nap. Once everyone was ready, they set out of the apartment; Sally claimed it was a perfect day for walking (Because I feel like taking a stroll, Percy, so stop whining and let's go), therefore they went to their favorite gelato place that was, coincidentally, a few blocks from their place. Percy took it upon himself to wheedle Paul into letting him get three cones, instead of his usual two; Paul, who got tired of hearing the reasons why Percy deserved a treat (I mean, I did save the world like three times, y'know? And I did the dishes today!) about two blocks in, finally sighed and relented. The teenager whooped and hugged him, which made Estelle giggle; Percy spent the rest of their walk making faces at her, trying to get the little girl to keep laughing.

A few minutes later, they finally reached the gelato place. Percy relished the cold air inside the store and immediately went to see if they had his favorite ice cream—the only blue gelato he'd found so far in New York (not that he knew many gelato places, now that he thought about it). They did, in fact, have it, so Percy did a little victory dance—only partly to make Estelle laugh—and stood expectantly while Sally ordered. Once everyone had their scoop (in Percy's case, three scoops) on hand, they took off toward the nearest park because Sally claimed the ice cream experience wasn't complete unless they ate them on a park bench while looking wistfully at the sunset; they hurried for the cleanest, nearest bench they could find so their cones wouldn't completely melt and they sat down.

"Now, isn't this nice?" Sally sighed contentedly. Percy eyed her resentfully, half his hand drenched in one of his blue scoops, but decided to keep quiet. Paul, who was taking his turn carrying Estelle, caught the look and chuckled.

"Yes, dear. It really is," he smiled at her and continued eating his gelato. Estelle giggled, which they decided to take as an agreement.

The small family kept licking away the snack in contented silence. Percy could admit (not to his mom, of course, that'd ruin his reputation) it'd been a really nice idea, actually; the sun was starting to set and a small breeze was picking up—with that and their ice creams, it wasn't as hot as it'd been, and it was actually enjoyable. His family was together and they were enjoying themselves in a small, mundane task. Percy was happy. The last few years had been hard for them, especially the last one; with the whole Great Prophecy bullshit and his little joyride into the literal fucking hell, he'd had a hard time. Even afterward, in the celebration, it had taken everything he had to not break down. It took months for him and Annabeth to even be able to sleep separated, let alone more than for more than three hours straight. Even now, almost a year later and what seemed like an eternity in therapy (turned out there are a few demigod psychologists out in New Rome willing to have sessions over Zoom), he still struggled with what seemed like a million things. He'd worked on his triggers, but sometimes they still took him by surprise; not even a month ago, he'd been walking with Annabeth to his apartment from the subway, when they got stuck in a crowd and were forced to let go of each other's hand. When the crowd was gone, he couldn't see Annabeth and he started to panic. Thing is, he found out really quickly that when he gets very stressed or upset, he can, well, he can shake the earth. Not too much, just little tremors, and not always, but his level of stress and the intensity of the tremors are directly proportionate—the more stressed he is, the greater the tremor is, though thankfully, it has never escalated too much. Anyway, he had been starting to dive full-on into a panic attack: he couldn't breathe, his hands started shaking, his vision blurred. Fortunately, before he could go into a complete-freak-out mode, Annabeth found him and led him through it (she had plenty of practice by now), which ended with them sitting on the sidewalk and leaning on the wall, Percy holding his head between his knees and Annabeth kneeling next to him. Fuck, but was he tired of this. At least he was in enough control by now to mostly be able to avoid getting panic attacks when he was only with Sally or Paul, but it wasn't always possible; he hated having to put his mom through that. When he was finally able to calm down and breathe normally, Annabeth told him in a shaky voice, "Percy, I think it's getting worse."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he scoffed. Annabeth shook her head.

"No, I mean," she hesitated, then took a deep breath and continued. "I mean, the tremors." Percy's head snapped up to look at her.

"What do you mean, it's getting worse?" he whispered.

"I could really feel it this time. Well," she corrected, "not just me. I think a few people noticed. Not many!" she quickly amended when she saw he started to look around madly. "Just, I noticed some people stumbling and looking very confused." She gently held his face and made him look her in the eyes. "Hey, baby," she said softly, "it's okay. I'm here, you're here, and we're both fine. We're getting through this, okay? We're working on it and we'll be okay, eventually. We just need to give it time." He nodded shakily, and Annabeth lightly pecked him on the lips. "Good, now come on, I'm starving." They stood up, and Percy held her hand again and kissed her temple.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go."

A gentle tug on his camp necklace brought him back to the park. Estelle was trying to fit one of the beads into her mouth. "Hungry, are we?" Sally chuckled. "I suppose we should get going, it's getting dark." Percy took their used napkins and went to the nearest trashcan a few meters away behind their bench.

Before the couple could finish getting up, a sudden snarl made them freeze—they looked up, and there, two big, red eyes were glaring at them from the shadows in the trees right ahead. Percy didn't think before he was turning sharply around and running toward them, Riptide in one hand and napkins forgotten on the ground, but he knew he wouldn't get to them fast enough. The hellhound erupted from the trees and Sally pushed Paul behind the bench, but she stumbled on a rock and fell and—she stayed there. She fell and she wasn't moving and Percy was too far away and Paul was shielding the now wailing Estelle with his body and looking with wide eyes at Sally's unmoving body. Percy saw the hellhound start to pounce over the bench and he knew it was after him but he couldn't take the chance it'd hurt his family so he threw out his hand and it stopped. The rear paws of the hellhound were barely touching the ground—it'd stopped mid-motion. Percy didn't stop to think about it and he pushed back and it was pushed back and he was finally there. He went over the bench (he didn't glance at his mom's prone body) and stared, sneering, into the angry and now confused eyes of the monster. He closed his fist and the hellhound let out a strangled whimper through its closed mouth. He heard rustling behind him; he didn't look away from the red eyes.

"P—Percy," Paul breathed. "What are you doing?"

"It hurt my mom." Was that his voice? It sounded so flat. Unemotional.

"She's fine," he said with a small tremble in his voice, "she's unconscious but she'll be fine. Percy, we need to get her checked out. Please."

"It hurt my mom."

"Percy." He was starting to sound scared. Paul was scared. Of him. Shit, what was he doing? He knew, he knew what he was doing, but he couldn't think about it or he'd have a panic attack and he'd hurt his mom even more, and—and he needed to stop. He let out a deep, controlled breath, and slowly opened his fist. Before the hellhound could even finish his snarl, Percy slashed. Before the golden dust even finished settling on the ground, he turned around and hurried toward his mom, avoiding Paul's eyes.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Percy said, voice raspy. He was trying not to cry; his mom was hurt because of him, and he had done—something. Something awful. Something he didn't want to think about. I know it's hard, but you have to, eventually, face the things that happened to you and the things you've done, he heard Betsy's voice in his head. Godsdammit, he didn't need his therapist's voice messing with his head right now. Right now, he had to help his mom, and—she was waking up.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Percy asked frantically. Sally blinked.

"Yes, yes, what happened?" She slurred slightly and then her eyes widened. "There was a—"

"Yes, but you fell and Percy took care of the monster," Paul interrupted her gently. "Don't worry, honey. But now we have to get you checked out. How do you feel?"

"I'm o—"

"Percy?" He looked up sharply and there, under the trees the hellhound had slipped out from, was Nico. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" Percy stood up and marched to him. "What the fuck was a fucking hellhound doing here?" Nico backed up from Percy, eyes wide. Nico winced.

"Well, that's actually why I'm here." When Percy just kept glaring at him, he continued. "There was a, um, logistical error, and some hellhounds somehow managed to break out of the Underworld. I've been corralling them up and sending them back, this one," he glanced at the dust littering the grass around them, "was actually the last of them. Actually, I was worried one would find you." When Percy just raised an eyebrow, he hastened to explain, "Well, hellhounds have a very good sense of smell and, you know, they can smell the Underworld and, er, Tartarus, so I thought maybe one would find you to try to take you back under." He looked uncomfortable.

"You knew it might come to find me and didn't even call to warn me?" Percy growled. "Fuck you, Nico." When he started to look offended, Percy talked over him, "No, shut up. My mom got hurt because of your little logistical error, godsdammit." No, he couldn't do this right now, his mom needed him. He let out a frustrated breath and raked his hands through his hair. "You know what? I can't deal with you right now. Fuck. I'm going to help my mom and then I'm gonna pay Hades a little visit." He snarled. Nico's eyes got very wide.

"No, no, Percy, hey. I'm sorry, okay?" He put out his hands as if calming a wild animal. "I swear I'm gonna get to the bottom of this and make absolutely sure it doesn't happen again, okay? You know I love Sally, I wouldn't ever let her get hurt. I'm sorry," he repeated. "Go take care of her, okay? I'll speak with my father and resolve all this." Percy looked at him for a few more beats, then finally looked away and gave a sharp nod. He knew it wasn't Nico's fault, but shit, he needed to blame someone.

"Yeah, fine." Nico let out the breath he was holding, looking relieved. He did not like being the object of Percy's fury.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" Paul asked quietly when he came out of the bathroom. Percy looked at him from where he was leaning against Sally and Paul's bedroom door. The older man looked weary, hair still wet from the shower. It'd been a long night. They took Sally to the hospital to confirm her claim that she was okay and, fortunately, it was true. She only had a mild concussion, and she had to take it easy and rest for a few weeks, but she'd be fine. Still, Percy was tense with guilt and worry, because, yes, it was only a mild concussion, but what if it had been worse? What if it had been Estelle who got hurt? He couldn't let something like that happen again.

"Yeah. You?"

"Better now, I suppose." They both looked at Sally sleeping on the bed for a few moments. "Hey, can I ask you something?" Paul glanced at him. Percy tensed up, sensing what was coming. He nodded. "What was that? In the park?"

Percy licked his lips and selected his words carefully. "I'm not sure. It's the first time it's happened." It wasn't a lie, not really. He knew he could control other liquids besides water—he was not going to think about Aklhys—but he never could have imagined doing what he did to that hellhound. It was terrifying, that he had the ability to—

"What exactly did you do to it?" Paul asked carefully. Percy was definitely uncomfortable. He didn't like that Paul had to watch what he did, and he liked even less that he was trying to talk to him about it. After a few minutes of silence, Paul seemed to realize Percy wasn't willing to answer because he sighed resignedly. "Well, that's… Just, I think it's something you should maybe bring up to Betsy." Percy swallowed audibly.

"Yeah, I… I can do that." He had actually already thought about it. He didn't want to, he really didn't want to, because saying it to her meant admitting it, but Paul was right. Percy knew he would get nightmares about this, and he did not want that, and Betsy had been able to help before, so… More material for him to suffer talking through, yay.

Paul pet him on the back and went inside the room, stopping to peck Estelle's forehead before joining Sally on the bed. Percy looked at them a moment longer, making sure the three of them were there and safe, and finally closed the door to go lay on his bed and pretend to be able to sleep.