Hello!

Progress on this story has started and stopped so many times, I honestly doubt any of its original readers are even around anymore. However, I have always said that I would not abandon it, that regardless of how long it took me, I would see it to its end. So this is me following through with that.

I've been away from FF for over a year and so much has happened in that time, but I am back and trying to be better now. And by better, I mean trying for at least semi-regular updates for this fic. I recently went through all the previous chapters of this story and refreshed myself on what's even been going on, and I am excited to get back into it for you guys.

So, I hope you all enjoy this update. As always, thoughts and ideas are always welcome!


"Logan, you have to be nicer to her," Annabeth said from atop the bottom step of the basement staircase, leaning with crossed arms against the wall with a stern expression in her stormy eyes.

"But she's such a know-it-all!" the sixteen-year old protested, his own crossed arms mirroring his mother's as he slumped in his chair. I stood in the space between the two, beside the physical therapy equipment and workout gear that took up a large portion of it and which had become relegated almost entirely to furthering his recovery these days.

"She doesn't have to help you," Annabeth countered, one eyebrow quirked at the teenager's attitude.

"She doesn't help me!"

"You know that isn't true."

The day after he'd finally asked for help, Logan had begun meeting with a therapist twice a week. We'd worried at first that it would be a challenge to maintain his motivation with everything he'd been dealing with but as he'd always been with everything in his life, Logan was an active participant in his emotional recovery. He attended every appointment, did the homework he was sent home with, and never once complained or tried to back out of it. After a few weeks, he started eating more normally and his eyes finally started to lose some of the dead, haunted look they'd carried since the quest. After a month, he'd sat down and talked with Annabeth and me about some of his feelings, not just towards his paralysis, but with the quest itself, the aftereffects, and especially what had happened with Sean. None of the regret or grief he felt had been surprising, but to hear him admit it, to talk it through and open up about it with us had been a huge, extremely encouraging step and I think we all left that conversation feeling lighter.

I think that night was the first decent night's rest either Annabeth or I had gotten in a long while.

In the three months that had passed since the breakup-induced outburst in the living room, we'd seen a marked improvement in our oldest son. He was still healing, still had a long road ahead of him in more ways than one, but he talked a little more, smiled a little more, and no longer shied away from interacting with the family as much. He'd even started talking with some of his friends again. While he still did not like spending much time away from home, Jarrod, a close friend of Logan's since junior high, had come over after school the previous Friday to play video games and stayed for dinner. After he left, Logan had seemed tired but in decent spirits and he even mentioned the possibility of him returning the following weekend for another round.

As far as I knew, he had not seen or spoken to Jasmine since that fateful night, which, as far as I was concerned, was only for the best.

For all the progress he'd made with his mental health over the past few months, the same could not be said for his physical improvement. It wasn't nothing, per say. With each week that passed, he gained a little more feeling here, a hint of movement there, but the progress was slow and minimal. He could wiggle his toes a bit, but his legs were still a far cry from anything close to weight-bearing. And Logan didn't have to say it for us to know that fact weighed heavily on him.

His relationship with Madison could still only be described as tumultuous at best. Still, the daughter of Apollo came by the house twice every week like clockwork and spent an hour each time locked in a battle of wills with him over this exercise or that. He'd seemed to find renewed determination a few weeks into his counseling, but his motivation wavered fast with the continued frustration with his lack of significant progress. He cooperated, but was less than confident in either of their abilities to get him mobile again. He threatened to fire her often, but had yet to actually do so and Olympus knew she was far too stubborn to be dismayed by his attitude.

In fact, I admired her commitment to her work. Even slow going as it was, Madison took each minute change as proof that all hope was not lost, and would return the next time with a more advanced set of exercises for Logan to complete and bicker with her about. She felt strongly that his doubt in the process was to blame for the near stalemate in his progress, but the fact that he could do something meant his nerves were not completely beyond hope. Which I chose to believe was encouraging.

The current situation had been brought on just a few minutes earlier by a tight-jawed Madison storming up the basement stairs after this afternoon's lesson, fire burning in her blue eyes. She paused on her way to the door with a "I think we've both had enough for today. Please make sure he does his exercises," directed our way before leaving with nothing more than a "Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson," thrown over a shoulder. I watched her go, wondering if she was headed to camp to let out her frustration on a practice dummy, before meeting Annabeth's eyes and falling in half a step behind her as she'd beelined for the basement door.

Logan was a good, respectful kid, current circumstances aside, and all of us, Madison included, knew his outbursts during PT were due to frustration with himself and his inborn pride and fear of failure, and not the therapy or therapist herself. He'd probably received the most patience from her out of everyone during their encounters. The girl really did have the bedside manner of a saint. But Annabeth could always be counted on to be the first to let him know when he'd gone too far, which was what was happening now. It did not actually happen often, but then, Madison did not often end their sessions fifteen minutes early either.

Logan grumbled now, not meeting either of our eyes. "She doesn't help much. I can barely do anything."

"Do you want her to stop?" Annabeth asked him, her tone direct and unflinching, even as my heart stuttered a beat at the implication. Sure, progress was minimal, but to give up on the therapy would mean giving up on the chance that he might actually stand or walk or fight again, and no matter how many times I considered or discussed that thought, it left me with an uneasy pit of dread in my stomach.

Of course, even in his current mood, Logan was not unreasonable, and he certainly was not a quitter. His answering, albeit grudging, "No," was almost instantaneous.

"Then you have to be more patient, Logan. It isn't fair to her."

"I know," he moaned begrudgingly. "It's just…" He gestured helplessly toward his legs.

Annabeth signed quietly and then looked at me. A clear cue. "Doesn't give you an excuse to be rude, bud," I put in, "Especially with everything she's done for you this year. You know that."

Logan heaved a sigh, his anger vanishing almost completely. "I didn't mean to be rude. Madison knows that."

"Does she?"

"Yes. I mean, I would think so. That's just how we are. It's embarrassing, I get upset, and we argue. But I do what tells me, and we're always fine. She knows I don't mean it. We're… friends, I guess? I don't know."

"Does she know that?" Annabeth asked reasonably, straightening and stepping off the step.

"I mean… yeah. Yeah, she should," he answered, though he paused as if not completely sure, staring at the wall beside us, before looking up and adding, "She argues back, you know. It's not just me. It's, just, like, how we are…" He looked away again and this time, I thought his face looked a little redder than it had a moment before. I blinked and glanced sidelong at Annabeth. The early days of our friendship had certainly been tumultuous enough. And maybe not just those early days, either.

Beside me, Annabeth sighed. "Regardless, she looked pretty upset just now, honey. Whatever happened, whatever you said, it seemed like you hit a nerve. Whether you meant to or not, I think you may have hurt her feelings. And you know, regardless of how hard this has been for you, she's only trying to help. She doesn't deserve that."

Logan sighed and a second later, seemed to slump a little in defeat. "I'll call her and apologize."


About an hour after dinner, I stood leaning with my elbows on the railing of the back deck, watching the intense one-on-one soccer match that had sprung up in the backyard between Nick and Carly. It started as a dribbling contest when the latter challenged her brother, claiming confidently that she could keep the ball off the ground longer than he could. The teenager had raised an eyebrow at his sister in a distinctly Annabeth fashion and simply replied, "Doubt it," before rising easily to the challenge. He won, but just barely.

I'd been surprised when Nicky told us at the beginning of the school year that he wanted to try out for his middle school soccer team. I didn't remember him ever having expressed much interest in it before, but we'd obviously been supportive of the idea, even with the extra strain it stood to add to our family's already-hectic schedule. A month later, he made the team and had been a valuable offensive player throughout the season. Not that this was surprising. With the level of physical fitness required by being legacies, as well as regular camp attendees, our kids had always possessed above average athletic abilities. Logan had played baseball right up until his injury and was great at it. Nicky had just never seemed to care about organized sports before. But we'd ensured at least one of us attended every game we could, Carly and Hannah often tagging along. Logan had even showed up to a couple early on.

The dribbling contest disintegrated into a match when Carly, clearly dissatisfied with her loss, charged her brother, stole the ball from his possession, and took off across the yard. Ollie, who'd been lounging in the fading May sunlight off to the side, now raced excitedly with her. Nicky hesitated for only a second before, with a cry of "Hey!", he took off after her. He seemed surprised at having to work to catch up to her, and then even more so when Carly blocked his attempt at reclaiming his possession and maneuvered around him. "What!" he cried, doubling his efforts, "How do you know how to do that?"

What Nicky didn't know was that his little sister had not only attended his soccer games, but had watched each one closely, analyzing the movements each player made. She'd learned the rules quickly, and I'd caught her more than once out here practicing the footwork she'd seen his teammates use.

She'd gone to Logan's baseball games during the years he'd played, but had never seemed remotely as interested. I wondered if our youngest would soon take up the sport for herself. I wouldn't be surprised,

Carly only laughed now and put on the speed. At thirteen, Nick was quite a bit bigger than her, but Carly was fast. She held her own just fine. They paused the match a moment later to set up official goals for each other, before resuming.

Several minutes later, the game was still going strong. Nicky was ahead by one point. Ollie had given up chasing after them and now lay down in the grass at the bottom of the deck's stairs, tracking their progress even while he panted, tongue hanging out of his mouth. I watched with him, only half paying attention. My mind had wandered to other things.

It was mid-May. In just over three weeks, the kids would be out of school and heading to camp for the summer. I had mixed feelings on the idea, and felt a bit like a hypocrite for it. Logically, I knew camp was basically the safest place for them to be, but after the events of the previous summer, I found myself wanting to keep them all close by. Which was stupid, of course. I remembered growing up as a camper myself. Even with everything I'd gone through, I'd never wanted to spend my summers anywhere else. And I knew the kids felt the same way.

Well, two of the three anyway.

We'd made Logan promise to attend the summer session with his siblings months ago, but it remained somewhat of a sore point between us, even with the steady progress we'd been making with him in other areas. And while I didn't blame him one bit, I was glad we'd held firm on the subject. We'd still not found an answer to the question of how he would defend himself in an attack. We'd made a handful of attempts over the past several months to come up with something, but they'd always ended quickly, usually with Logan getting upset before wheeling himself away to brood. So far, we'd been lucky, even if he didn't really go anywhere other than school. But we'd be foolish to keep pushing it.

I really had no idea how the progress on that front would be any different at camp, but I figured if anyone would have any insight on the matter, it was Chiron. Logan didn't like it, but then, I figured he didn't really have to. His safety was more important. And I think deep down he knew that too, because he'd never pressed the issue that much.

The sound of the back door sliding open caught my attention and I turned to find Annabeth stepping out. Ollie rushed to greet her, tail wagging. She absently patted his head. "Hey," I said.

"It's getting late," she said by way of reply, gesturing toward the sky where the sun had all but set by this point. It had to be nearly 8pm. "Carly needs to start winding down for bed soon. And they'll both need showers."

I nodded and turned back toward where the kids' match continued on in the grass. Both of them were barefoot. As far as I could figure, the game was tied 2-2 currently. They were breathing hard, but neither showed any inclination of quitting. "Wrap it up, you two," Annabeth called out to them, standing beside me now, "It's a school night."

"Kay!" Nicky called back in reply, not looking away from the ball he was currently working to keep in his possession. "Next point wins." This last part was directed at his sister, who ran alongside him, brown curls bouncing behind her.

I saw the sparkle in her green eyes a moment before she moved, spinning back and ducking low as she swept her brother's feet out from beneath him. Nicky, clearly caught off guard, crashed to the ground while Carly gracefully caught the soccer ball with her foot, arching it over to her side, before she spun and, with one forceful kick, sent it flying toward her makeshift goal, marked on one side by a discarded hoodie and the other by an old practice bow that had surely seen better days. The ball sailed perfectly through the center. Carly beamed.

"No fair!" Nicky yelled, already back on his feet. "That's a foul!"

"We never set any rules!" Carly defended, "I win."

"We didn't have to set rules, that's not how it works."

"I think she learned that particular move from you," I murmured in Annabeth's ear as the bickering descended into a full-blown argument between the two. I couldn't help the grin that had spread across my face.

Annabeth only smirked and shook her head. "Alright, time to come in," she interrupted the kids.

"I want a rematch!" Nicky protested, "I didn't know we were playing dirty." He made a face at his little sister. She simply smiled and gave an innocent shrug in return.

"You'll have to get your rematch tomorrow," Annabeth reasoned, "It's too late now. Come on. Get inside, please."

"Fine," Nicky muttered and went to retrieve the hoodie that had made up half of his sister's goal before moving to obey.

Carly, scooping a pair of discarded flip flops from the grass on her way over, looked very pleased with herself. She followed her brother through the door, a smug smirk playing at the edges of her lips. Snorting to myself, I shook my head and brought up the rear.

Was it technically cheating? Probably. But then, Carly had spent her whole life competing with two older brothers. She knew how to bend the rules to her advantage.

And it really had been a beautiful move.


"Hey, champ," I said quietly from the open doorway of Logan's room, having just kissed Carly goodnight across the hall and closed her door behind me. He glanced up. He lay propped up on his side in bed, head resting on a hand as he read from a worn book laid out beside him in the light from the lamp next to him. His wheelchair was tucked beside his nightstand, in easy reach for when he needed it.

"Hey," he offered halfheartedly.

I nodded toward the book. "Anything good?" He shrugged and then pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning now against the headboard to face me. "It's for school, so not really."

"I'll leave you to it, then," I replied, not wanting to interrupt. I didn't really have a reason for stopping in anyway. I straightened to leave.

"It's okay," Logan spoke up, surprising me. "I'm, like, three chapters past what I was supposed to read tonight anyway."

I smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "Why doesn't that surprise me."

I thought I saw a ghost of an embarrassed smile cross his face at that and I swear my heart rate increased a bit. It was crazy how such a small gesture seemed so significant now, after everything.

"I didn't have anything better to do." I nodded, not sure what to say to that. Logan glanced up at me for a second, before dropping his gaze to his lap, as if suddenly unsure how to act.

"Everything okay?" I asked quietly, watching him,

He nodded, then swallowed. "I, um, called Madison before. Apologized for what I said."

I nodded supportively. "I think that was the right thing to do."

"Yeah." He was still staring down.

"How did that go?" I pressed. He seemed like he wanted to say more.

"It was fine. We're cool." He answered quickly, then paused. "I mean, I think she was surprised… that I bothered."

"You think so?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "Well, yeah. She actually told me as much," Another pause. He was still staring down. "And, um," he continued, "honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"That she was surprised?"

"Yeah, I guess." He shook his head and glanced up at me. I took the cue to step inside and shut the door behind me. I crossed to the desk, piled with textbooks and dirty clothes, and slid backwards onto the chair, facing him. I crossed my arms atop the chair back and looked at him, waiting. Logan took a deep breath. "I've been a jerk, since everything happened. To everyone." He took another breath. "And I don't want to be. I never meant to be. I'm just…" He trailed off.

"You're angry," I supplied.

He nodded and met my gaze for a moment before looking away again. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked quietly, "If I never walk again?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, studying him. I'd asked myself that same question so many times over the past year, I'd lost count. And what could I say, really? There was no answer.

"You be you," I decided. Logan met my eyes again at that. I sighed. "You're still the same person, Logan. Still smart and kind. A good leader, and a brother, and a friend. You're still my son. You don't need legs for that."

"I haven't been a lot of those things for a while," he countered, eyes downcast. "I haven't been a good brother or friend." He glanced up. "Or son."

My heart sank a little at that. "You've been going through some really hard stuff. That doesn't make you not those things. And no one who cares about you would ever hold it against you."

"Doesn't mean I don't," he murmured, so soft, I almost didn't catch it.

I paused, studying him. His eyes never left the quilt draped over his lap. "Well, then I guess it's up to you to change that," I said quietly.

A beat of silence passed. Then he sighed, "Yeah." When he met my eyes next, he failed to hide the tears filling his own.

"Hey," I breathed, standing now and crossing the cluttered room to the bed. I sat down next to him and wrapped my arms around him. I waited for him to protest, but he allowed it and even leaned into my chest in response. "Whatever happens," I murmured, "you will figure it out. You're not alone in this, Logan, no matter how it may feel. And regardless of whether you believe it now or not, your life will go on even if you don't ever walk again." He opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but I continued before he could. "It'll be different, yeah. It's already different. That doesn't mean it has to be bad. But only you can decide how you want it to go from here." We were quiet for a minute, and then he nodded against me. We sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a minute "I'm here for you," I promised. "We all are. Always." He nodded again, and after another few seconds, sat up. He swallowed, and then looked at me. And the determination in his gray eyes matched his mom's exactly. I offered a smirk.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

He was quiet for another few seconds, He looked pensive. Then he met my gaze once more. His own was firm, but warm. "I love you, Dad."

This time, I smiled for real. "I love you too, Logan. I always will." He nodded, looking away again. I guess I couldn't expect much else. He was, after all, a sixteen year old boy discussing feelings with his dad. I resisted the urge to grin now and instead leaned forward my arm still around him, and kissed his head. "Get some sleep, alright?" He nodded, and I squeezed his shoulders one more time before I stood to go.

"G'night," he offered as I reached for the door knob.

I glanced over my shoulder. "Night, champ."

I slipped out of the room then, closing the door behind me, and found Annabeth leaning against the wall beside it. Her eyes looked bright in the dimness and I knew she'd heard everything. Before I could say anything, she grabbed my hand and all but dragged me down the hall and into our own bedroom. The door swung shut with a click. Without even bothering to flip on a light, she kissed me. Hard. Her cheeks were moist. And even after seventeen years of marriage, I found it hard to form thoughts by the time she pulled away probably a full minute later, my face cupped firmly in her hands. "I love you," she declared, voice thick, "You're an amazing father and we're lucky to have you and, gods, I love you so much. I just want you to know that."'

It took me a second to remember how to speak. "I love you too." And then I kissed her again, because I could, feeling better than I had in a while. And, gods, it felt good.


Thanks so much for reading! I'm trying to give you all a reasonable timeline, so I will try to have the next update for you within a week or two.

If you are one of those original readers, or even a more recent one, feel free to drop me a review and let me know you're still here. I always love hearing from you guys!