CH3

I stuck around for another half a day after sleeping over, but for some reason just couldn't feel comfortable staying another, however much they would protest it was fine. Cindy didn't elaborate much on her uncle, but she looked visibly perturbed by his presence. At times throughout the day she looked distant, as if paying attention to something else. I would ask her about something only for her to blink at me for minutes at a time as if she had turned into a vegetable.

Clearly, something about me was stressing her. I wanted desperately to know what troubled my friend, but it was to no avail.

Her mother was still friendly throughout, but I got the impression very quickly that she was worried as well.

So I had left without much to say after plinking at the target using the pellet rifle mostly wordlessly with Cindy for hours.

On the way out I noticed the silence had passed, and the mildly frightening experience I had on the previous day was gone. It felt safe again to be on the road.

The evening came fast. I went to a cheap burger restaurant for dinner, getting a cheeseburger with fries and a medium cola that could hopefully last me the night. Thankfully the server didn't ask any questions, obviously not one to care what some kid was getting or doing.

Looking around, I saw most of the restaurant was empty. I scooted up to a round table in the corner of the room and collapsed into the seat ungracefully, putting the food on the table.

Quickly, I unwrapped the burger halfway and kept it from contacting with my dirty hands using the grease-proof paper. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the beef mingling with the cheap cheese. It was familiar, and I supposed that was a good thing.

I looked at it for a moment. It was probably actually horse meat. Something about that thought was off-putting, but I shrugged.

Meh, who cares. I'm hungry.

The burger tasted good, although by no measure could it ever compare to the flavors of Mrs. Panagos's cooking that I'd been a guest to just that morning and the evening prior. I wouldn't let that get me down though. Still, I devoured the food ravenously.

Munching through the burger, I failed to notice the lady who approached me. She sat down on one of the seats opposite and looked at me. I was slightly startled when I noticed her. How the heck did she just appear before me, silent as a ghost while I was eating?

Looking at her, she looked similar to Mrs. Panagos with the strong straight nose that was apparently a characteristic of her Greek heritage, and large almond-shaped chocolate brown eyes. Her face was not as warm, but it showed fewer signs of age. Quite conversely – she looked much younger with flawless smooth skin. She sat postured, back straightened stiff as she crossed her legs.

"Where are your parents, young one?" she asked and I froze solid. She couldn't know, could she?

"Not here," I just shrugged, and she hummed in thought.

She regarded me from across the table. It was unnerving, but she made no move as if to harm me, "I expected as much."

I didn't say anything, barely glancing over my cheeseburger at the woman. I wasn't sure if I should have been calling stranger danger or something of the sort. The woman made no hint as to what she was doing here, and it made my stomach churn. If it could be avoided, I would have preferred not to make a big scene that could get the police involved: especially with my current situation being on the run.

"Does your father know you're here?" She asked. It was both an innocuous and creepy sound question at the same time.

"I never met my father," I answered truthfully nonetheless, "Lost at sea, or something…"

She seemed to be expecting my answer, but something had obviously piqued her interest. Whatever it was, she buried it and at least tried to appear sympathetic, "Too many fatherless children these days."

I bit into my burger again and nodded very barely in silent agreement.

"Well," She stood up, and with a deft hand slid me fifty bucks in five-dollar bills, "Good luck then, Perseus."

It took a moment to register.

Wait.

I froze, seeing only the woman before me walk away, heels clicking on the ground loudly in a way I shouldn't have missed earlier, before…

Silence.

I looked to where she should have been and stood, but there was nothing there.

"What the Hell?" I asked out loud, drawing a couple uncouth looks from a pair in the next booth. Picking up the money, I flicked through it with my fingers.

It felt solid.

It felt real.

How is that possible? This couldn't just be a cruel trick of my imagination, could it?

When I looked at the money, my mind immediately went to food, but I suppressed those thoughts – there were more essential things.

A sleeping bag for one.

Taking the bills as discreetly as possible, I folded them flat and tucked them away into my sock. It wasn't the best solution, but I wasn't about to have it in my pocket where it could be easily picked. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, I finished my burger. The fries were salty and greasy; not particularly hot, but still warm enough.

The cola was just the good old sugary kind. Health wasn't exactly at the forefront of my mind when I would have to be homeless and starving – I needed the calories to survive.

SLURP!

I let out a sigh of disappointment as my cup bottomed out noisily. I guess it didn't last me the evening as I'd hoped it would.

Before coming into the restaurant I'd seen a Sports-Mart just next-door. Throwing my trash away, I was quick to leave the restaurant and get to the store.

It wasn't a big store on the inside. I naturally found myself gravitating towards the swimming and fishing sections, but I forced myself to pay no attention to it. My mother had tried her best to take me to the pool, but between her job, and Gabe's demands it was always more a luxury than a given.

And fishing? Well, she always told me my father loved fishing, but never said anything more than that.

"Camping… Camping…" I muttered to myself in a low chant-like way as I searched for the section. I passed by a hunting section where there was a fancy looking crossbow displayed proudly in a glass case.

"Cindy would find that cool," I remarked to myself, before looking at the price tag. I knew it would forever be way out of my price range, yet my eyes still bugged.

Two thousand dollars?

I snorted and looked on to see the camping section was right beside the hunting one, with a large graphic picture of what looked like a wood-fire in the night. There were a lot of examples of sleeping bags arrayed hanging on hooks with the rolled bags on a shelf below them. I was no less lost looking at all of the choices of bags as I was before I'd found camping. Different weights, brands, materials, and codes that just amounted to complete gibberish to me. I went for a medium-weighted bag that was inexpensive but was still comfortable enough… to look at.

It was plain black, with nothing fancy or interesting to it. I plucked the roll off the shelf and brought it over to the empty till where a bored-looking blonde lady clerk stood.

"Hello, and welcome to Sports-Mart," she sounded less than enthused, "Just taking the sleeping bag?"

I didn't really plan on making any conversation, so I just nodded my head silently, reaching up to hand it over the counter. She hummed to herself as she flipped it in her hands, looking for the bar-code.

BEEP!

She found it, "Would you like a bag?"

"No just the receipt please."

"Alright," she tried to give a smile before clicking a couple buttons on her point of sale, "That'd be $17.99."

I reached down into my sock, out of her sight, and pulled out the folded money. Fiddling with it, I eventually thumbed out four bills and handed them over.

"Twenty dollars," She muttered to herself as she opened her till before cursing to herself and turning to the nerdy looking guy who sat next to her on the next point of sale, "Hey Jerry, got any dollar bills left?"

The man looked startled when she spoke to him and I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I stifled a laugh, "Yeah, how many do you need, Brooke?"

"Just five for now," she handed one of the fives I gave her off to the man who took it while muttering something inaudible under his breath as he passed five singles back to her.

"Thank you, Jerry," she said in an obviously teasing way. The guy looked like he practically had a heart attack as he turned away.

Face still flustered, he called to an old lady who stood in the line, "Uh, next."

"Here you go, sweet," she smiled, seemingly satisfied with having entertained herself by teasing the guy as she handed the sleeping bag over with the receipt and change.

"Thank you," I responded, pursing my lips to stifle the laugh that threatened to split my face. I shoved the receipt and remaining cent into my pocket and bent down to tuck the bills away in their discreet location again.

"Have a nice evening," the lady said, before glancing over my shoulder at the next customer.

Taking the sleeping bag, I rushed out of the store and reevaluated the time. It was still bright out with the hot summer air. The air was never really dry – the city was right next to the ocean after all. Something about the humidity made most other people choke, but I never felt better. Whatever problem they had with it, was not something I could sympathize with.

I wondered where I would go next. A homeless shelter? No, they would turn me over to the police just because of my age. Perhaps I could go and hang out in Central Park for the night. After that? Well, the park keepers would probably kick me out, and living in a city park I would probably be noticed at some point.

Why is that kid sleeping here every day? Where are his parents?

That sort of stuff, I would prefer to avoid.

Maybe I could go to Montauk. It would be a long walk, but I knew exactly the way there. My mom had taken me every summer since I could remember. Others wouldn't look at it as the best beach around, but it was special to us. She never told me why we went to that beach specifically, she would just get a faraway look in her eyes and stare off into the horizon.

However, Montauk was not an extremely populated area. The chances of begging there if and when needed with much success would be incredibly low. Although, perhaps in the summer the few other beach-goers who choose to go there would drop me a few pennies.

Being a kid would help with that, right?

So my initial plan was set. First stop: Central Park.

Perhaps along the way I can pick up a hot dog or something…

No.

I cannot.

I stamped the thought out in my brain as soon as it came. My money was limited, I would have to ration it as best I could.

I walked slowly, my mind drifting back to the lady in the burger place. She had come as if from out of nowhere, silent like a ghost. Her eyes were warm, and motherly, although there was an undertone of darkness contained within that was not lost on me; quite unlike Mrs. Panagos's. For all their similarity in appearance, she somehow seemed entirely different. The way she had regarded me was intrusive, creepily so, but something about her just made me think of my mother.

However, she was still beyond creepy. She knew my name. Not just the nickname I went by and preferred, but my actual forename. The name of my namesake. It was beyond me how she possibly could. I had never seen her before in my life.

Did she know my mother? If she did, why would I have never met her? Or perhaps she knew Cindy's mom? Even then, both of them knew and Percy only – and have done so since we met in kindergarten.

No, there had to be more to it.

BEEEEEEEP!

I jumped in fright and leaned backward as a taxi passed by me, full speed ahead with its horn still blaring. Had I been moments slower to react, I would be a splat on the tarmac.

No more daydreaming

As I came into Central Park, I once again got that tingling feeling I had the previous day outside Cindy's house.

Something was off.

It was quiet, but not silent like the day before. I decided to stick to the lit paths for the moment where there were still other people milling around. This was one of the few areas in the city where sunlight was not entirely restricted by buildings, but it had fallen sufficiently in the sky such that the lights were needed.

Looking around, nothing was particularly out of order. A few park keepers were milling around. Other kids rushed for the last call at the ice cream vans and carts with their parents. It was a sight I looked on enviously. Every minute I spent with my mother I cherished. Normalcy was beyond our lives. Outside of the short trips to our rough cabin in Montauk, I didn't remember having ice-cream since I was a toddler. Those short excursions with the few holidays my mother had were the small blessings of my childhood.

And just yesterday I had put an end to that. All it took was a swift jab with a pen.

My mom had wanted to send me to a boarding school for the following year with the promise that it would get me away from Gabe. Goodness, as much as I hated school with a burning passion, I was only now realizing how much better the normalcy of it would be.

Would I be better off if I hadn't killed Gabe?

I bit my tongue and shook my head to myself.

No, I can't think that way. My absence would just have been my mom's misery.

No.

I made the right choices. He was about to hurt her again. What kind of son would I be if I allowed that?

I looked away from the ice-cream carts, I couldn't let the temptation overcome me and make me spend money on a worthless snack like so. The chime of ice cream still jarred my ears tauntingly, as if it were just out to mock me.

My pace quickened, I wanted to get away. As I walked I saw a discarded newspaper on the ground and bent over to pick it up and stood in place for a moment. Eyes scrunched up, I could barely make out 'August 17th, 2000'. The page was flipped to a sports page, and I could see the picture of a footballer dramatically catching the ball. Everything else was just garbled gibberish to me.

"Jumbo lemonade touchdown scores a hot-dog for the eight ball," I said aloud as I read the article's title, and blinked. That was how everything looked to me. Completely nonsensical, and incoherent. Tossing the paper aside I continued until I found a wooded area.

The sky was already getting dark. Even with the lingering bad feeling I got, there was no way I could possibly sleep near all the lights. The feeling returned as soon as I veered off the path.

I was probably just being paranoid right?

I found a nice looking tree and began to unroll the sleeping bag. It would be a long day of walking the next day, and I was already exhausted just from walking to Central Park. There was nothing else for me to do and the sky was barely lit.

Then, I thought I heard a giggle to my left.

I looked.

There was nothing there.

Shaking it off, I set my backpack on the ground where I could rest my head on it under the sleeping bag as a crude and uncomfortable sort of pillow.

That was when I heard the giggle again.

I couldn't be imagining that, could I?

"Hello?" I called out into the deepening darkness. There was no response and I started feeling unnerved, "Hello, is someone there?"

Was this what was giving me the bad feeling?

"Hello, Half-Blood," a female voice said to my right before she seemed to break down in a giggling fit.

Half-Blood?

"Who are you?" I asked, looking to where the voice came from and seeing a girl, roughly my own age with skin a coppery bronze color like people Cindy had said were from Persia when we looked in textbooks. Her eyes were of a unique caramel amber color I had never seen before in someone's eyes.

"Be calm, Half-Blood, we will not harm you," another voice said from my left. The speaker's face was pale and white, almost like a ghost, with light blonde hair and eyes of onyx. She was probably a year older than the other at most.

"Why are you calling me that?" I asked and they both laughed at my question with a bright musical sound.

A new voice introduced itself, directly behind me, her voice in a lower register than the other two in a more matured sound, "You will find out in time, young one."

I looked behind me and saw another girl who looked extremely similar to the first, just a little taller and probably closer to eleven, maybe even twelve. She had a playful but relaxing smile.

"You don't have to worry Half-Blood. We will look after you for tonight. You were followed here, but do not fret, you will be safe with us." the girl approached and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. With a light press of the hand, she guided me down to the ground. Perhaps I should have been more suspicious, but they were reassuringly nice.

What did she mean I was followed though?

"A lullaby please, Birch," her sister said as she nudged me to lie in the sleeping bag. Most of my apprehension was lost as the girl began to sing in an unfamiliar language.

The two coppery toned girls hummed an accompanying tune. I wanted to protest and ask more about what she said about me being followed, but the lullaby was enchanting even though I couldn't understand what was being said. Something about it just demanded I submit to the night.

I could feel myself losing grip. I yawned and laid back, placing my head against the bag as I obliged to the spell.

"Good night, Half-Blood," the younger copper girl said, breaking her tune shortly, and everything was going dark. Her smile was reassuring, giving me slight ease as my vision faded.

After my vision was all but gone, I muttered quietly, "Good night."

I could still hear the lullaby. It was soft and the melody swayed with the light feeling of a breeze. Slowly all sound wound down, getting quieter and quieter.

Until suddenly it was gone, and in the darkness replaced it a bright cloud with the tune of birdsong that melded with the sounds of people conversing loudly in the background. In the clouds I saw two faint silhouettes, both men, one had the butt of a trident planted in the ground like he was using it as a quarterstaff.

"What of your son, brother," the man without the trident asked, all the rest of the sounds growing dimmer as his strong voice spoke, is he doing good?"

The silhouette raised the trident with a guarded appearance and asked, "Is this about your daughter? I swear I had nothing to do with it, and if you dare touch-"

"I will not do anything to your son," the man cut him off, raising his hand and looked away. The silhouette with the trident calmed down for a second. I remembered from some science textbook that Cindy had helped me through that the trident was a fishing implement, designed to counteract the effects of some weird water refraction thing when looking at it from above the surface. She said that someday I might learn to use one, although she preferred the idea of netting fish.

It's a more graceful, pragmatic method, she had told me, before quipping and it's less savage.

Are you calling me a savage? I had asked challengingly, to which she just laughed. The memory gave me some brief amusement.

"Good," the man said, the vision of my memory vanishing again.

"How old did you say he was?"

"Five," the trident wielder puffed his chest as if proud. I couldn't see their faces because of the silhouette abstraction, making it impossible to tell what either of them was thinking.

"Indeed," the other man stroked his beard, "Is there anything else?"

The silhouette of the fisherman tilted its head, and sounded genuinely confused, "What could you possibly mean by that?"

The other man hmphed, slumping back on an armchair that appeared out of nowhere, looking down. No words were said for a few moments, and the fisherman planted the trident's butt directly in the ground in front of him, leaning into it.

"For what it's worth, brother, I'm sorry for what happened to your daughter," he eventually said, and the sitting man shook his head.

"Don't be sorry. She's my failure, just be sure you do better by yours than I by mine," he said, standing again and walking out of the picture. The cloud evaporated, and the vision was gone.

(A/N) It took slightly longer than I wanted, but there were a couple of holes I needed to fill. The next chapter is almost finished, but I'll probably wait for the next weekend to upload it to pace it out, and to give me time to also work on some of the other stories I want to rewrite.

I'll be trying to keep this story chronologically in sync with Riordan's story. I could not find a date for Thalia becoming a tree, so it'll just be an ambiguous date just before what's going on right now. All I could figure out was that it happened in 2000 using Annabeth's age on arrival at camp.

I want to add some humor to the story because, of course, it fits with Percy's character, but unfortunately I'm not very funny and I haven't found a chance to use any yet. I'll try my best but it'll always be a struggle for me.

Let me know what you think / if you'd like to know anything (assuming I'm not holding the information reserved for now). I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

-MT13