I am nice, hot, great
So why am I the body
Disposal unit
Apollo was practically vibrating when he knocked on the door to Percy's apartment. Unfortunately for the excited god, he was relegated to the end of the non-existent waiting line. He tapped his foot on the unkempt, dark landing as he waited. And waited. He knocked again, except this time he used his entire fist – maybe the occupants simply hadn't heard him the first time? This was what he got for being considerate and not just flashing inside. There was a crash before someone finally started moving about.
Apollo could tell that the person on the other side was putting in a concerted effort to be quiet, but it was hard to escape a god's hearing. The hobbling gait also made it easy to pick out the footsteps as Percy's injured leg hampered all her attempts at silence.
It was good that he hadn't expected her to open the door instantly, though, as otherwise he would have been in for a disappointment. A blue eye appeared in the peephole and analysed him for what must have been at least a minute before the young woman finally opened the door a fraction.
"Oh, you're really here." She sounded entirely too uninviting for someone who'd given him her address, albeit under duress.
"I told you I would be," Apollo pointed out. He'd even taken a mortal taxi – and he hated them. Though not nearly as much as he hated the one the Grey Sisters ran.
"Yeah … I thought you were maybe sleep-talking, or something."
"Who's even asleep at seven in the morning?" he asked incredulously.
"Me," Percy responded with alacrity. "I was definitely sleep-talking. I had a nightmare, thought something had happened, and called you. But then I woke up and realised it was … nothing. Sorry you had to come over."
Percy tried to close the door, but Apollo stuck his foot in the gap between the door and the wall before she could succeed.
"Wait," he held his hand up imperiously. "You're saying I got surgical gloves, a blowtorch, and oxy bleach and rushed here – for nothing?"
"What did you get all that for?" she asked disbelievingly.
Because he wanted to participate in a mortal crime drama. But since that wasn't something he was going to admit to, he went with the infinitely more respectable, "You can't get rid of blood by using just bleach, you know. You have to use oxy bleach, or the cops can still find it."
Percy let out an outraged squawk. "What, you think I took a knife and went all stab happy on someone? News flash, only chefs have knives that sharp. There's no blood anywhere. None at all!"
"But there is something," he said knowingly.
Percy opened and closed her mouth like a fish gasping for air. Apollo leant to the side to catch a glimpse of the room behind her, only for the demigod to rise on her toes to block his view.
Percy swallowed, looking like she regretted ever calling him. Honestly, Apollo hadn't expected his Mist compulsion to work even half as well as it had. But now that he was here, he wasn't leaving so easily.
He smiled charmingly and snuck a hand through the small opening to grip Percy's one visible shoulder. At the same time, before she could attempt to shut the door with his foot as an unfortunate casualty, Apollo pushed into the apartment.
Apollo might have cared about not sending Percy toppling onto her back, but she had no such compunctions about harming him. His back slammed the door closed behind him, Percy's arm an iron bar against his chest.
"Don't just come barging in." She hissed. Her breath smelled of cloves.
Percy's body radiated warmth along his front as she pushed him against the wood. She looked even more vibrant than usual, fury animating her features and lending sparkles to her eyes.
"You invited me," he said huskily.
She pressed against him even further, whether to pin him to the door or to take the weight off her leg, he didn't know. He didn't care.
Apollo slid his hand down her back, feeling out each bump along her spine. He paused when his fingers reached the small of her back, before settling his palm more firmly on her back.
Percy trembled minutely. Her eyes burned with suppressed emotions, reminding Apollo of a thunderstorm. She bit out, "Shutting the door in your face doesn't count as an invitation in my book."
"Pity, that," he agreed.
Percy closed her eyes, breathing deeply to calm herself. "Could you not make a move right now?"
"Whatever you need." Apollo acquiesced. That didn't stop him from wrapping his arm more firmly around her waist. She'd said right now after all – meaning she was amenable to advances, provided the timing was right.
Determination had filled her features by the time Percy opened her eyes again. "Well, since you're here and just so invested in being an accessory to a crime, why not. Come along. Just keep in mind – I've done it once, I can do it again."
Apollo smiled wickedly at the warming. Homicidal tendencies weren't actually a deterrent for gods. "Let me help you to a seat," he said solicitously.
She looked irritated at having her words disregarded so easily. She pushed herself away from him and asked sarcastically, "Where?"
Which, now that Apollo took a proper look around, was a very good question indeed. This was a pigsty even a porcine would refuse to live in. Beer bottles, cigarette butts, open wrappers, half-eaten food, and magazines lay strewn over every surface of the living room. The couch had deep impressions in it like some large creature had made it its resting spot for decades. Probably the person prone on the kitchen floor.
Even from this far away, Apollo could tell that the man was dead. And from the toppled over table next to him, he'd gone violently. Apollo returned his gaze to the only alive mortal in the apartment. Despite her bravado, Percy looked shaken in a way he'd never seen her before. But then again, presumably, he'd never seen her after she'd committed a murder before either.
He took out the surgical gloves he'd just conjured from his pocket and handed two to Percy. (And yes, he hadn't actually carried anything over – what sort of a failure of a god would he be if he couldn't even snap up things in an instant?) She looked at them hesitantly and then back at him.
Apollo shrugged, "Better not get your fingerprints where they don't need to be." And make more trouble he'd have to magic away.
Percy put the gloves on with trembling hands. As she did so, her sweatshirt sleeve slipped down to reveal a bruised wrist. Apollo's arm, which he hadn't removed from around her, tightened reflexively. He really didn't like it when pretty girls were treated badly.
She must have noticed where his eyes were because she pulled down her sleeve and brushed his hand away as if burned.
"So," she said brusquely. "How are we getting rid of the body?"
Apollo's lips twitched at that. "Presumptuous of you to think I know how to do that."
"Somehow," she said wryly. "I get the feeling you've disposed of many bodies in your time."
Apollo debated denying it, but … "Well, you're not wrong." Though disappearing someone was easy when you could burn them to ash. He could always do that here too, but maybe gaining a better idea of the situation might prove useful. Seemingly irrelevant, surreptitiously gathered clues often proved to be the most enlightening.
Apollo picked his way through the garbage to reach the body. The place stank like unwashed human and rotting filth. Disgustingly enough, he didn't think the rot had set in after the man's death.
He wrinkled his nose at the stench of tobacco and alcohol that wafted off the man. "It's been at least fifteen minutes since you called, and the body's still just ... lying here. What have you been doing all this time?"
"Panicking" was the prompt, unashamed answer.
Apollo snapped his head towards her at the response. He scanned Percy head to toe contemplatively. The only major sign he could find was the slight fidgeting that could be easily explained away by ADHD, that perennial complaint of demigods. "You don't look very panicked." He noted.
Percy blew out a breath. "I'm great at compartmentalization."
"Me too" Apollo agreed. "For example, right now, I'm compartmentalizing the biohazardous nature of this place."
"I live here." She spoke flatly.
"And you have my utmost condolences." He reassured.
"Just …" Percy gave up and waved a hand vaguely. "Brainstorm."
"Will you get in trouble if he just disappears?"
Percy scoffed. "He doesn't even go out of the house to do his literal job. No one's gonna believe he went for, what, a walk? And just got lost on the way back."
Apollo looked dubiously at the fat, bald man on the floor. It stood to reason that such a slob's first engagement of the day would be at never o'clock. Back in the day, Apollo would have already finished his morning solar circuit, performed multiple surgeries, and composed a song or two by now.
Apollo didn't want to, but the things he did to maintain a pretence – he bent in a crouch to better inspect the man. The rodent was so smelly that just breathing in his vicinity made Apollo concerned about catching some air-borne disease.
Apollo hummed in interest as he observed the lack of any non-self-inflicted marks. True to Percy's words – there were no stab wounds, or even any outwardly visible sign that someone else had been involved. Only a blue, swollen man. Apollo was getting an inkling of just what a gem he had accidentally stumbled upon. "So, how did he die? Drown in the sink?"
Percy flushed and then paled in rapid succession before sticking her chin up. "Yes."
Not likely. There was too much water on the floor and not nearly enough on his undershirt. He didn't point it out. Yet. "Any chance he's still got alcohol in his body?"
By the way Percy stiffened, Apollo had gotten the right idea. Next, he asked, "You have a tub?" Or he'd have to get creative. That was the unfortunate part of the new regime – the Mist was so overworked hiding giant slavering monsters the little things tended to slip by the wayside. And what wasn't overlooked, Apollo did his best to hide inside a drawer in a stranger's basement.
"Yes," Percy said. "But no one's going to believe he was having a bath."
"It's because it's him that people will believe it. Of course, the only time he wants to get clean is when he's drunk out of his mind." Apollo reasoned. "We'll just drag him to the tub, and pretend he drowned there." The fact that the man was dressed in just an undershirt and boxers simply made it easier. Apollo would conjure some extra alcohol in the man's stomach, hide the scratch marks on his throat, and make the attending cop more inclined to put this down as an unfortunate accident.
For a moment, Apollo contemplated snapping his fingers at Percy. He was already going to be doing the heavy-lifting – he certainly didn't want to do any of the literal lifting too. Then he took in the steely glint in those dark eyes and was reminded of the calm before a storm. She'd drowned a man in his own kitchen without any sufficiently deep pool of water. And drowning wasn't fast or easy – she'd waited out his struggles, his stillness, his convulsions, and who knew how much longer before she'd finally let the glob of water in her control collapse. If it hadn't been for his compulsion, he had no doubt she wouldn't have called him at all and would have simply disposed of the man on her own.
"Well," he said, feeling drained by the very prospect of having to touch that thing. "At least you don't have carpet."
"Right," Percy nodded her head. "Detectives can track drag marks in carpet."
Apollo looked at her incredulously. "I meant the extra effort required to fight against friction, but sure, that too." Why did he get the idea that she knew more about getting away with murders than he did?
She made a face but once he started dragging the fat, bald man, reluctantly offered, "Need some help?"
"With your luck, you'll fall down and break your nose." Apollo told her flatly.
She didn't take the opening to disavow her clumsiness and put all the blame on the currently dead mortal. Apollo supressed the disappointment he felt at that. At least, Percy didn't seem too upset about the death, just the logistics of escaping mortal law. For now, Apollo would simply have to be content with the fact that she must know what had happened to her wasn't right.
Percy led the way to the bathroom. The yellow-walled room was tiny, with a steel tub taking up half the real-estate. Once Percy entered it, Apollo – and the body he'd lugged along – were relegated to doorstop positions. Without any instructions from him, Percy opened the shower head hanging over the tub. The pipes made protesting noises before a trickle of water started falling down.
In contrast to the living room, the bathroom smelled of cloves – an artificial, pungent take on the spice that could only be emanating from the open tube of toothpaste lying on the shelf above the washbasin. Underlying it was the sharp tang of bile. A used toothbrush with the suds not yet washed off lay to its side. Percy, Apollo gathered, had spent the past fifteen minutes throwing up and then brushing her teeth.
Even with the tap opened all the way, the water pressure was so low the flow of water could only accurately be termed a drizzle. As the Herculean task of filling up the tub enough to create a drowning risk continued, Percy's eyes played peek-a-boo with him. Her gaze kept flickering towards him, but the moment their eyes met, her orbs would skitter away.
Apollo … wanted to speak. But he also wanted to analyse the demigod in front of him. Now that he knew, it was easy to pick it out – her divine blood was strong. And it was Greek (which was a good thing. Greek, Roman, he could deal. But the problems plucking someone from another pantheon altogether would cause!). But something was masking it – and well enough that he'd had trouble picking it out even though they'd been meeting at least twice a month for half a year.
The fidgets came on full force as Apollo continued staring at Percy. She barely waited for the bathtub to be halfway full before she was turning the shower nozzle off and scampering out. She gave both Apollo and the body behind him a wide berth – a tremendous achievement when one factored in the cramped quarters. Apollo didn't take it personally – it was clearly the body that was disquieting her so much.
It was only once Apollo had dumped the man in the tub with some judicial application of divine strength that Percy burst out, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
Apollo gladly turned to the demigod, happy to look away from the body lying under the water. Sometimes, he discomforted even himself. "I've said quite a lot already, don't you think?"
Percy scoffed. "You haven't asked the most important questions of them all! Who's he? Why did I kill him? Why should you help hide it?"
Apollo made sure his features were as gentle as he could make them before he responded. "For the first – I don't care. For the second – I'm sure you had a good reason. As for the third – why shouldn't I?"
That stopped Percy short. Apollo took the moment to manipulate the dead body's internal processes and clean up his nails and skin a little to fudge the time and cause of death. He was a god, it was easy. And whatever her missed, could be dealt with later.
His non-judgmental demeanour worked. Percy gulped before admitting, "It was an accident. I didn't mean to. He just kept going on and on and I panicked."
He knew gods were different, but Apollo rather doubted even demigods could panic for so long they successfully drowned a man on dry land. He didn't contradict her though. He'd meant it – what did it matter to him who or why she'd killed? Especially when the handprint on her calf belonged to this man's meaty fingers?
He did however ask, "Are you hurt anywhere?"
She bit her lower lip before giving a jerky shake of her head.
Now why did he not believe her? She might not be aware of it, but there was a reason she always came to him when hurt – he healed all of her injuries and not just the bare minimum she divulged. That was part of running a successful healing gig – petitioners expected you to know what was wrong and have a solution for all of it. Now, loathe as he was to admit it, he didn't have the answers for everything. But healing a few mortals, improving their metabolisms, deadening a few nerves on prayer – that was well within his powers.
So, Apollo changed tracks. He gestured at the way Percy was listing to one side. "Should you really be on your feet so long? You have a competition on Wednesday."
She looked stricken at the reminder of her upcoming meet. "There is a dead body in the bathtub. We will both be lucky to not end up in jail by next Wednesday, let alone a competition."
She gave a miserable little chuckle. "You shouldn't have come. Now you'll be in trouble too."
Apollo smirked. "As if I'll ever end up in a mortal prison." he said scornfully.
"Mortal prison? What are you? Carlisle Cullen?" She mocked.
For a moment, Apollo couldn't understand what she'd just said. And then it registered. "What?" He squawked.
She looked slightly more cheerful now that something had popped up to distract her. "You know, the vampire doctor from Twilight."
"I'm not a vampire," he denied indignantly. "Do I like I have fangs or a metal leg?"
Percy was confused. "What does a metal leg have to do with anything?"
"Empousai?" He hinted. Her perplexed expression didn't disappear. Apollo gave up. "Vampires are based on empousai, demonic women with a bronze left leg and a donkey right leg. They feed on mortals."
"That's great," Percy said, unimpressed. "But you're changing the subject. First, you look like a runway model when everyone else at the hospital seems to think you're a middle aged, genial doctor. You vanished the blood and scratches on Gabe, and don't even try to tell me that doctors can now fix dead bodies, because I happen to know for a fact that cryogenics is the rich people version of snake medicine. And now, just a few minutes ago, you practically confessed that you're not mortal. Wanna explain that?"
Apollo blinked. Percy ... was too observant for her own good. Sure, he was flattered that she considered him an attractive tempter. But also – she'd accused him of being a vampire while being in no fit condition to even run away.
Now, someone who believed in convoluted plans, or just had a greater appreciation for her continued well-being, might have attempted to convince Percy that she was wrong. Apollo, however, was a teacher. Deliberately imparting false information, and not even in a thought exercise, went against his creed.
"It's probably the same reason there's a dead body in this house."
Percy froze. And yet, this wasn't the stillness of a terrified animal or even a cornered one. This was locking up your bones and burying your muscles fifty feet underground as desperation so intense that it was nearly its own person raged through your body. And Apollo had never been one for denying himself.
He smiled, letting just little of his divinity show. "Why don't we take this somewhere else? We can do better than the bathroom for a discussion this important, can't we?"
Percy's lips parted in a silent gasp. He wanted to bite those lips until she was gasping into his mouth instead.
Apollo made an after you motion with his hand, except, with a theatricality even Dionysus would have appreciated, he vanished his gloves. And hers. Percy swallowed.
She cleared her throat before saying, "Sure. We can go to my room."
Apollo followed Percy as she hopped-limped her way to a bare door. On the way, he removed any traces that a body may have been dragged from the kitchen, or even that someone had died anywhere other than the bathroom at all.
Percy's bedroom was small, with walls decorated with posters of various swimmers. A desk covered with books, notebooks, pens, and other stationary gave away that this room belonged to a student. But the centrepiece was a small plastic shoe rack repurposed as a trophy stand.
Percy dithered once they were both inside, seemingly torn between offering him the sole chair and taking the bed herself or vice versa. Apollo didn't allow her the choice – he settled down on the unmade bed that looked like someone had just gotten out of it. He patted the coverlet beside him. "How about a demonstration?"
Her mouth screwed up as she mumbled, "You wouldn't like it."
Apollo raised his brows. "Who said you'll be demonstrating anything?"
That calmed her down somewhat and she tentatively sat down next to him.
"Your leg?" He pointed at the limb in question.
She looked at him askance. "What about it? It's fine."
"I could make it better than fine," he said leadingly.
Her face lit up in realization. "You really are magic then!"
Apollo preened, just a little. It was always nice to be appreciated. He was tempted to show off something really awe-inspiring, but that would be too dangerous. He didn't want to draw attention here after all. Just because he could detect when some creature was spying on him didn't mean he could stop it and raise suspicions. And that was ignoring the fact that he didn't know Percy nearly well enough to accurately estimate her leanings. As he'd always said, prevention was better than cure. He wasn't planning to drive on top of a sinkhole anytime soon.
Percy folded up the leg of her sweatpants until her knee lay exposed. No doubt she expected this to be a normal, clinical examination. That wasn't what Apollo intended at all.
He gently lifted her leg and placed it across his lap. Percy yelped and leaned back, throwing out an arm to brace herself against the bed. The leg still on the ground bumped against the side of his knee.
Apollo looked at Percy through half-lidded eyes as he put a warm hand on her bare skin. He took in her flabbergasted expression with satisfaction. A little flex of his power now and …
"Oh" Percy let out a little moan at the sudden cessation of any pain. Then flushed red and slapped a hand across her mouth in embarrassment.
Apollo suppressed the smile threatening to spill out. He drew circles on her knee as he asked, "Better?"
Even as they watched, the purplish tinge to her skin disappeared. He could have healed her perfectly in an instant but where was the drama in that?
Percy lowered her hand and tried to look as if the past few seconds had never happened. "Much better," she said regally.
Apollo pinched her leg in retaliation.
"Ouch," she yelped, like it had actually hurt. She mock glared at him before something in her seemed to relax like a bow being unstrung.
"I heal better when I'm in water." She admitted in a rush. "I can hold my breath underwater for a really long time – and it is underwater. My lung capacity above ground is nothing to brag about."
Apollo doubted that considering how long she could speak without taking a break. He didn't interrupt though. Now that Percy had started speaking, it was like a dam had broken – words just came spilling out, widening the crack until a meteor could have passed through it. She reminded Apollo of a cracked hourglass more than anything.
"No matter how exhausted I am, I always get energized in water. Drinking saltwater is like I took two energy drinks. And today I …" She broke off.
Percy looked searchingly at him. She must have found what she was looking for as she took in a deep breath to muster up her courage before continuing, "I could control the water. I could make a sphere of water and just … hold it in place."
Trepidation had scratched its claws all over her face. Apollo squeezed her now perfectly-fine leg. "Who was he?" He asked gently.
Percy blinked furiously. Apollo suspected the tears she was warding off weren't for the man's death but for what he'd made her do.
Her voice was steady when she said, "Gabe. He was my stepfather. And I'm not sorry he's dead."
Apollo was somewhat glad that it was a stepfather and not father she'd killed. Even when he had ordered Orestes to kill his mother, he'd been powerless to protect the young man when the Furies had chased him.
All he said was, "I'm sorry you had to kill him. But not that you defended yourself." Because he had no doubt that it was self-defence. He'd been healing her for months now – Percy spoke too fondly of her mother for the woman to have been the person putting all those bruises on her daughter.
Percy looked down. "Well, do you know what all this is, then?"
Apollo reached out and used his index finger to tilt her chin up. Confusion muddied eyes looked up at him beseechingly. And how could Apollo disappoint her?
"It's because the Greek gods exist. And you're descended from one of them."
A frown wrinkled up her forehead as Percy digested that. "Are you being serious right now?"
Apollo gave a small bow. "The god Apollo here. Not at your service."
Before he could say anything further though, his ears caught the opening of the main door. He stiffened. "We forgot to close the door."
"Percy? Gabe?" A woman called out. Running footsteps accompanied her voice as the woman made her way unerringly through the cluttered living room and towards Percy's bedroom.
"Mom!" Percy whispered, horror-struck.
A woman with grey-streaked brown hair skidded to a halt in the doorway. "Percy," she panted in relief once she saw the girl. "You're okay!"
Then Percy's mother seemed to register the tableau in front of her.
"You … have a friend from school over?"
Were he mortal, Apollo's heartbeat would have slowed until it gave up the ghost and stopped beating altogether. Friend he could accept. What else was Percy's mother supposed to think considering the highly suggestive picture they presented. But school?
Was his luck really that bad? Or was it something in the water? Was the water pressure so bad because it had to push anti-Mist elixirs out through the taps? Or was he supposed to assume this woman's clear-sightedness ran so deep that she could disregard even a god's compulsion?
"Mom," Percy spoke up tremulously. If she wanted to look innocent, she shouldn't have followed that up with a "Have you been to the bathroom?"
It must have been a mother's instinct. Apollo's mother got that exact same look on her face when he attempted to hide something from her.
"No," Sally Jackson said. "But I clearly should."
