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242488.

242488.

242488.

That is the number of miles my poor, poor little Honda Accord had accumulated before finally dying on me. She kept me going all the way through High School, past countless hours on the road delivering pizza, and all around helping me achieve my level of 'tom-foolery'. She helped me through quite a few not-dates with one of my best friends, and honestly I don't know what I would've done without her bravery in the face of almost overheating on her last few weeks on delivery.

A moment of silence, if you please, for a true hero.

My best friend (female) is on her religious excursion! I've already gotten her first weekly email! So proud of her!

I've gotten a bit better since last chapter. Things are starting to smooth out, minus the Honda (*sobs*). Either way, still working hard at my job. None of them even know who Percy Jackson is, but a shout out to them for being so supportive of me these past few weeks. Actually, one of my co-workers has accidentally added onto this story in ways I doubt he's even suspected. I never expected it either, honestly. Probably going to add a new OC soon... hope you like him, at least a little.

Anyways, I'm not going to go on a big rant today (sorry to disappoint, new viewers who read the last chapter!). I just want to say how happy I am with how you are all so supportive of me... Really, thank you.

So, I have some new story ideas. I've already mentioned how this story will probably be my last before the two year religious excursion I plan on taking, but still. That's a few months away, at the very least. I'll be putting the idea's in my Bio after I'm done writing this. Go check them out, comment on the ones you like and which ones you didn't on this story, or my other one, Complications.

This chapter is dedicated to my car, resting in the big junkyard in the sky.

Disclaimer:I am still not Rick. Nor Marvel. Or... whatever else might want to copyright this crap. Whatever.


Jason:

Piper immediately reached over to Thalia and smacked her upside the head.

"Hey!" She said, protesting against the 'harsh' treatment. Jason held the two of them apart, keeping them away from one another. Gods, why did it always happen like this? Everytime he tried to get the family together…

In all actuality, he wanted to smack his sister upside the head as well. She acted just like a punk 15-year-old would sometimes (almost always) and it really, really messed things up. This family reunion just topped the list of blunders.

Jason loved his sister… but why did it always feel like he was the eldest?

Everyone was looking at her. No one hid there shock at her attitude, even though Jason wasn't all that shocked. Thalia was Thalia. She was coarse and held grudges, and Jason sometimes saw the 'Zeus' inside of her more prominently than himself.

Although, thinking about it, maybe he didn't see it all that well either. But that's why he had Piper.

Piper killed the stubbornness. Jason appreciated it.

Thalia didn't.

"That was uncalled for." Piper said, her eyes reflecting her obvious malice. Jason hoped he never saw that gaze directed at him.

Thalia crossed her arms, looking Piper in the eye. If anything, she looked even more angry after being charm spoken into silence. Jason didn't have to imagine how angry Thalia was- she wanted Piper gone.

It was a rift he had yet to mend.

"Leaving for five years without telling anyone where he had gone was uncalled for- calling him out on it was justified." Thalia said, though she seemed to waver, if only for a moment. Jason didn't understand why.

"But making his sister cry?" Rachel asked.

Oh.

Jason winced when he saw Thalia's steely demeanor slip. She ducked her head down, scowling. Thalia hadn't even ever met Percy's little sister, but she hadn't been lying when they said everyone loved her deeply. Thalia was beyond protective of her. Thalia loved that baby.

"It was about him, not her-"

"And it's obvious that he means the world to her." Piper said, standing up, although Jason tried to stop her. He failed, but at least he tried. "You don't just… go off on him with her right there!"

"But we all agree that it was beyond uncalled for, just leaving, right? Hope aside?" Thalia said, standing as well. She made eye contact with everyone in the room, even Jason.

Piper looked at her in disbelief. "You're turning against him now? After hearing what Zeus did to him? After what Zeus did to Sally Jackson? You really want to question why he didn't try to talk to any of us?"

Thalia looked absolutely furious, but Jason knew this wasn't about Percy anymore. This time, it was obviously Zeus. Jason knew that face. It was the kind only inspired by god-level rage. Thalia had inherited it from two jerk parents. Or, at least that's what she always told him.

"My 'dad' is a jerk, and we all know it." She said. "And I'm not even surprised anymore by what he'd do to hurt others. He's a lousy excuse for a king, much less a god."

"Then why drag it on? When Percy had to go against Zeus himself, why call him out for not calling us?" Reyna asked.

Thalia looked about ready to explode, seeing Reyna join in. "He could've trusted us-"

"Lousy friends we turned out to be." Nico said, looking over at her cousin. "We knew he was alive. I knew he was alive, and when I told everyone we blew it off-"

"And I was an idiot! Is that what you want to hear? That I blew it off as you wanting to believe our idiot cousin was alive." Thalia said. "Imagine, if we'd helped Annabeth while the trail had been warm-"

"You know, there is a lot of cutting people off right now, but let's set the record straight. Annabeth was obsessed. We didn't want an answer, because we didn't know what we'd find if we dug up enough." Jason said, remembering the agonizing nights following Percy's disappearance. The constant self-doubt. But Zeus had been insistent, and Jason had followed.

Like a good soldier, Jason had followed.

He was an idiot.

Thalia looked at Jason, really looked at him. And in her eyes, he saw the same reflected emotions, the same pain he'd felt all those years ago. "It's obvious things changed- for all of us, Thalia. We were all acting like Percy had switched sides, regardless of what we personally thought. But we can't take our guilt out on him right now."

Thalia looked like she was about to speak, but Piper cut her off. "You missed him, Thalia. He hurt all of us when he left, and yeah, knowing that he was alive this whole time without telling us kind of hurts." Piper looked down at her feet, her hands resting on her stomach. "But you need to see it from his perspective on this-"

"I know what it feels like to be alone." She snarled. "Besides what Nico might say, I've been alone before. And I can't count on my fingers and toes how much I appreciated waking up with friendly faces around me instead of monsters about to eat me."

Thalia made eye contact with each of them, as if trying to make them all see her side of the story. To feel what she felt. Jason didn't know if he'd ever felt like that… so alone… but he understood Thalia was protective. Beyond her rough exterior, she loved fiercely.

Jason didn't want to comment in the restaurant, but Thalia was still his sister. More than that, she was still human, as much as she was god. She talked about being more- about immortality and the hunt being so important to her, but Jason knew- he knew that she believes that Percy's decision to turn down immortality was his greatest achievement. She didn't think being a demigod was weak.

"We never lost him, Thalia." Jason said, looking at her with sad eyes. "He never hated us, and he never wanted to leave us. But coming back- even to just talk to us again -would've been certain death. For him, and for Hope, too. But he's trying to talk to us now, and we need to listen." He looked between all of them, but emphasized his point when he made eye contact with his sister. "We just have to listen right now."

Thalia looked down at the ground, and this time she didn't try speaking. Jason knew he'd made his point.

"I'm going to go talk to him." Jason said, standing up and looking between them all. No one argued as he began stepping towards where Percy had disappeared to.

Jason thought that the house was actually kind of small.

Of course, this was coming from the man who had been living in the biggest cabin in Camp Halfblood, and a private senate apartment before that, but recently he'd been humbled. A modest apartment in New York for a few months, a room in the Big House since after the apartment, and the constant hotel rooms from his job.

But, beyond the sitting room that morphed into the kitchen, there were only two bedrooms, and what Jason assumed was a bathroom down a single hallway. There was also a second floor, but Jason would investigate that later. No need to when his friend was on the first floor.

He was pretty sure he could hear them behind the farthest door, or at least Percy, murmuring words too quiet for Jason to hear. He couldn't be sure, but odds were Percy was trying to calm his sister down.

Jason knocked softly. The murmuring stopped.

When the door opened, Jason expected Percy too look angry, or to drag Jason into the room and talk there. What he didn't expect was Percy to open the door and immediately close it behind him. His face was set in a stern line, his arms folded and his back pressed against the door frame protectively. His eyes were still a dark gleam.

Jason went to speak. Percy cut him off.

"Thalia is Thalia. I was an idiot for keeping Hope there." He said, then rolled his hand in a 'now continue' motion.

Jason smiled a little. "I should've told her to hold her tongue for a few minutes. Especially since Hope was there."

Percy smiled as well. "At least she never changed."

The two of them laughed, any tension defused, at least momentarily. Percy still stood guard over the door, as if afraid to leave his sister unattended. Jason noticed. "She knew us, before she even met us. You told her about us, didn't you? About the gods, demigods… Everything?"

Percy rolled his eyes. Jason was actually a bit shocked at the movement. That was more of Annabeth's thing.

Jason admits he forgets they were separate entities. "She's six, Jason. I… censor some of the other stuff out. And I still haven't told her about how Mom and Dad died."

Jason nodded. "She's still pretty young, even for… demigod stuff, don't you think?"

Percy shrugged. "There might've been a third party that brought the subject up to begin with, yeah." He admitted. "She loves you all, though. She was excited to meet you all today."

Jason tried to imagine how he would be depicted in a story. Did Percy make him sound like a hero?

Unlikely. They were probably all presented as dorks.

"What now? How's she holding up?" Jason asked.

"She's taking a nap for a little bit. I'm sure she'll be better by the time dinner is ready tonight." He said, shifting on the doorframe. "Maybe Thalia could use a nap, too." He mused. Jason frowned, thinking of his older sister.

"She's slept enough through this trip. I'm sure she'll mellow out by dinner, too." Jason said, assuring himself as well. Thalia just needed to get it out of her system. She just needed to adjust a bit more. "She just missed you, I'm sure. And disappearing on us was a bit uncalled for." Jason said, trying to cushion the blow a little bit.

Percy just sighed, swinging his arms and moving away from the door. He started making his way back to the living room, Jason in tow. "Do you think she'll forgive me?" Percy asked, his voice going quieter.

Jason clasped his shoulder, shaking him in a friendly way. "Given enough time, I bet she just might."

Clint:

He was supervising.

Supervising.

This was the job Fury assigned him when P.E.G.A.S.U.S. was still up and running. Observe, report, repeat. No fancy shooting, no danger that went unseen by his all-seeing eyes.

It was the most stressful job he could think of existing. Especially when he was dealing with the team. The Avengers were stubborn, confused people. They all had very, very different opinions in regards to topics of the world. And the differences couldn't be any more divided… powers against no powers. Magic against science. Baja Blast against Pitch Black.

Independence against government overwatch.

It was a lot to juggle, getting into the mindset of each person he watched. He had to understand, and Clint wasn't very good at it, okay? He didn't understand Cooper's first crush on a rock, and he couldn't understand Tony's infatuation with disassembled engines. That was Percy. He understood.

But Clint gave it his best shot. He just… couldn't always hit the mark. Still, he sat in front of his computer, writing up his weekly status report.

James wasn't getting any better. If it helped, he wasn't getting any worse, either. It was a standstill at the moment, completely no change. Clint only hoped it got better soon.

Wanda and Vision were spending a lot of time together in the Avenger's headquarters. It was… more of a home, in most senses of the word, for the Avengers. They spent most of their time in the training room, doing… whatever it was Percy had asked them to. Clint noticed a lot of strange geographical challenges added to the simulator. He still knocked before entering either of their rooms.

Sam was still ticked about his wings missing. When he wasn't receiving bits and pieces of news that was probably irrelevant, he spent free-time combing through traffic cam footage of the day Annabeth escaped to tower, trying to locate his missing wings. No one can identify why the GPS attached to the things had been turned off. Clint suspected Percy had a lead already.

Thor was off-world, or with Jane. You could tell by the way his face morphed into a stony expression every time he returned from a 'mission'. With Jane, he smiled. At least, that's what Clint hoped. He didn't need Asgardian tantrums and relationship angst added to his own mounting stress.

Steve was preparing for some party. A reunion of veterans that he knew from some fight or another. They usually hosted these events in other buildings, or at a museum or anywhere besides the tower. Steve often argued that the veterans deserved a better venue than an ugly tower (he never told Tony to his face). This time, that rule had been waived.

Tony… there was a hard thing to bring up. He was obviously in distress. He had almost barricaded himself in his workshop until only recently, when Pepper had to basically tear him away from his work and into the kitchen. He seemed beyond his usual level of franticness. Almost like he planned on hurting himself. Like he had no choice.

Clint himself understood the feeling. He could, just barely, understand what they were all feeling. He liked to think this experience would help him understand all of his co workers better.

At the same time, he didn't want to know if Percy was pushing the team past the limit.

Clint finished typing away at his computer, saving all of the information. He just had to speak with Natasha, get her reports, and save it onto his email. Percy would get it, Clint would get a reconfirmation that the plan (that he didn't have the full picture of) was still in motion, and Clint would continue to monitor and assess the situation from wherever he could.

Fun.

He rubbed his eyes after pushing back away from the desk. He tried so hard to keep the brightness down on anything with a screen, but it always ended up hurting his eyes at one point or another. It didn't help that Tony's tech was always a bright blue color: after a while, it seemed to get brighter every second.

Clint exited his room, walking down the hallway that acted as private suites for each team member. Rooms weren't hard to come by in the tower, and not everyone on the team really kept in the same one for long. Clint knew why he did it: predictability was tough for a spy. It scared him. It made him feel unsafe.

He didn't understand how Tony could keep everything so… set in a place like the tower. His room was perfectly manicured for him. He always had the same coffee made (if he could help it) and lazed around the house until he was told to do something, or he felt and urge to… exercise? Build? Clint didn't know, Tony seemed pretty stressed for a such a laid back individual.

Walking by down the hall, he saw Percy's room. On a whim, he stopped, opening the door and peaking in.

Now there was a room that never changed. A room fit for him. Mind you, Homestead was much more authentic, but this room- the one in Avenger's Tower -was a combination of work and home if Clint ever saw one. Laptops, a desk, stationery, and files next to picture frames, mementos, tacky souvenirs and crayon drawings (not all of them made by Hope). It was… Percy.

Blue everywhere, smiling faces and mug shots mixed together, and somehow all Clint could picture was Tony.

It had never occurred to him how alike the two were until the very moment he could compare the two rooms. Sure, Tony was definitely more elegant than the average college-age superhero, but the resemblance was there. Seashells, picked up by Hope in Texas of all places- didn't Tony have a scrap of junk framed above his dresser? There must've been some significance.

Percy kept a photo of himself and Tony in graduation robes, eating tacos- the moment Percy had sold his first (and last) patent on a design for a hydraulic door. A door still manufactured and used by Stark Industries. Tony had a small photo hidden in his sock drawer- so small Clint had had to sneak into the owner's room and peak -of himself and Percy, a selfie in Paris. Some sort of celebratory lunch for returning from the dead.

How was it that the inventor and the big brother shared so much- whether it was sarcasm, decor, or press awareness -in common, but have none of the same reactions to pressure? To stress? How did they both cope so differently?

It made a chill run up his spine. Clint closed the door, walking back towards where Natasha would be on any other weeknight.

"If you keep that hand guarded, you just open yourself up to worse injury."

"I'm already injured. I need to let it heal."

"Then why fight with a disadvantage?"

Clint watched the two agents spar, but it looked more like a really intense dance. The kind of dance where you each held a blade and couldn't disconnect eye contact with your partner. When one person stepped forward, the other must counter. The movements were smooth and precise, and it almost amazed him how graceful it could look before someone was thrown onto the mat.

He was above them, watching from the jogging track that overlooked the sparring mat(s). He'd been watching for only a few minutes, but it was definitely an even match between the two opponents, no matter how he tried to slice the favor into his own partner's favor. Besides, all the best teachers were unbiased, taking each lesson with a grain of salt.

Okay, Nat was better. But Hill was holding her own.

He had to hand it to the old pirate, Fury had a knack for picking protegees. She had a broken finger, an obvious target of opportunity, but still she held herself like it didn't phase her. Nat and Maria both had six inch blades in their hands, but Maria went so far as to grip the knife in her injured hand.

Most fighters would see this as a disadvantage.

Any Fury student will know, this was simply a challenge.

They circled the mat, constantly aware of one another's movements. Each breathed evenly. Each held a calm expression on their face. Both were obviously waiting for the other's patience to wax thin.

In the end, Clint lost.

"As productive as it would be to see you two slice into one another," He said, not even startling either of the two trained agents. "I need to speak with Nat before bed."

Neither moved. Neither looked away from one another. Each of them had their weight shifted evenly between their feet, but ready to change stances and positions until the other attacked first.

Clint rolled his eyes, jumping over the railing, and landing between the two of them. He then proceeded to disarm both of them.

Natasha was left blinking at her empty hand, seeing her knife buried into the mat beside an identical one. Maria Hill reacted equally semi-surprised/emotionless. Clint was still in a kneeling position, his hands on the hilts of the blades and his boredom clearly evident on his face. "Like I said, I need to talk to Nat. You can spar when I'm done."

On the inside, he was smirking. 'Still got it.'

"We were sparring now." Hill said, already reaching for her knife again. Clint went to grab it away from her…

… and felt his leg give way from under him as Natasha kicked it away.

Clint fell to the mat with an 'oof', seeing that both women had reclaimed their knives and were looking down at their prey: him.

Natasha started with a downwards thrust, going for his ribs on his right side. It wasn't a move he was familiar with, but he easily grabbed her wrist and brought the motion to a standstill. "Okay, wait just a second-" He began, but was cut off by the heel that slammed into his abdomen and took his breath away.

Agent Hill followed up with her own thrust to his throat, but again Clint caught the blade. "When we spar in private, we do not enjoy being stopped." She said, retching the blade from his grip as Natasha started backing off as well. Clint stood, feet spread evenly and eyes trained between his (apparent) opponents.

"Ladies, my last sparring session wasn't too long ago. I see that you're busy now, so Nat can visit me when you're done-"

Said agent started to advance, blade thrusting into nothing when she tried to attack him. Clint went into full defense, dodging each potential cut and moving to disarm her when he saw Hill coming up behind him. He only barely caught her wrist.

Looking between them, now both captured in his grip, he saw the silent determination to make him pay for interrupting them. "Seriously, calm down! What's with the blades, ladies?" He asked, the question popping out of his mouth just as Natasha switched hands and Hill began punching at his nerves on his arm. He released them both, taking a step back and jabbing at Nat until she backed off.

"Archaic weapons, Barton." Hill said, now taking a slice at Nat. The red head caught the blade with her own, getting in close and slamming her fist into Hill's solar plexus. She barely winced at the awful blow. "There's no telling what might be happening later on these next few months, but we can't expect the Olympians to just sit and wait for Percy to meet with them." She said, pressing Clint into a corner and slicing at him.

Again, he caught the blade. Natasha came in for another kick, and Clint caught her foot. He was really good at catching. "Fair enough. But why-" He was cut off once again, Natasha's blade slicing through his shirt. She gave him an innocent smile, twirling the blade as she did.

Clint was ticked. This was the shirt his wife had picked out for him.

Clint had dropped Natasha's foot before, but when she started jabbing at him again he caught her wrist and pressed just right- when he could hear the bones pop and shift. Natasha hated when he did that to her, he knew.

While occupied, Hill began to advance from his side, blade still in her injured hand. Clint wasted no time, jumping up and catching the blade between his sneakers. He smirked, twisting and causing her to cry out and drop the blade. Simultaneously, he pulled on Nat's wrists and slammed her into the ground beside him as he fell.

While they were both down, Clint began to go to work. Punching and jabbing, kicking and grunting. They both put up a good fight, mind you, but Clint was the teacher. Nat and Hill sliced him a few times, true, but eventually they all fell onto the training mat, exhausted. Covered in sweat and panting, Clint put his fists up in the air, victorious.

"I wanna say I won." He said in between coughing and panting. The lights above him were giving off a sickening glare.

Natasha's heel came down on his stomach, effectively correcting his statement louder than any smack talk could.

"I think you're an idiot." She said, but her labored breathing gave herself away as well.

Clint was about to comment, but then another heel slammed into him. His eyes bugged out, and the idea of crawling to the infirmary entered his mind. "I think it's safe to assume this match was a draw, and that the next time we do this-"

"There is no next time." Clint said, his words devolving into coughs halfway through his statement. They each rested their sore muscles, eventually making their way to the benches and taking sips from their water. Natasha offered Clint some of hers when she saw him empty handed. Clint resisted to urge to backwash.

"I still need your report for this week." Clint said, pointing to Natasha. She nodded, unsurprised. There was no doubt in Clint's mind Natasha wasn't aware of Clint's job. What he didn't expect was Hill's voice.

"Has Percy… asked you to tell me anything?"

Clint had to turn in his seat fully to see the agent, and when he did he was surprised by how… casually she seemed suddenly. Like she was trying her hardest not to somehow sound as cold as she usually did.

Alright, Clint was no 'emotion bloodhound', but even he saw through her overt casualness. Make no mistake, Clint understood what a crush was like.

… But Hill was made of stone. She didn't have emotion.

Unless she was with Percy. Clint was tipped off after they were put in a recon mission some years prior. She actually smiled once.

"I'm afraid I can't say. After all, Percy never gave me any means of contacting him." Clint lied, although he said it in such a monotone, dead-weighted way that Hill could probably guess that he was in contact with him. It was probably an open secret with all of them, honestly. "Steve just wanted to make sure we could all be at his Veterans Ball in a few weeks."

She nodded, quietly excusing herself from the room, a towel hanging from her shoulders and water bottle to her mouth. Clint and Natasha both watched as she left.

"Do you think-?" Clint began, but Natasha cut him off.

"I try not to, when it comes to the two of them." She said, taking another sip of water. Her tone lowered when she spoke again. "I have the finer details regarding the Senator's task force. Percy needs to hear about it. Now."

Clint nodded, standing and making his way towards the door. Natasha followed after.


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