Blank.

"If anything is under control, you're going too slow."

~Mario Andretti

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Percy became aware of just how tired and sore he was. He must have spent his years floating in the timeless world of empty space in a state of stasis, because his body was scarred severely. All evidence of Tartarus's killing blow was absent, but every mark prior to that was still engrained on his skin; some, temporary reminders of the hell he had gone through with Annabeth, and others more permanent.

Piper had nestled his head while he balled his eyes out, but eventually she had brought him to his feet, telling him that he stank and was in need of a shower. Her words had made him want to cry once more upon hearing them, innocent and pained though they were coming from her mouth. They were one-hundred percent true, of course; he was a complete wreck. His torn, tattered clothes clung to his body grossly, and his hair was greasy, matted with mud and debris. Fifteen years without a bath would have left anyone in a similar state.

Walking through Tartarus, Percy might have considered giving up his left hand for a warm shower, but the often strength-baring water completely failed to register in his mind as it cascaded down his beaten and bruised body. Annabeth's face was firmly imprinted in his mind. He felt a split-second of anger, decrying her betrayal...but as quickly as it came, he dismissed it with a hard pang of regret. That wasn't fair on her, and looking back, he wondered why he had cried so hard. She had moved on, and were he in the underworld, he knew that was exactly what he would have wanted for her. Perhaps it was the expectation, and the hope. He had died, and then been given a second chance at life. His conscience had been clear the moment he had forced Annabeth into the elevator, and yet...it felt cruel. Perhaps eternity on his own with just his thoughts for company might have been preferable...

Against the soft, comfortable bed, just as he did in the shower, he felt numb. Emotionally more than physically. He was aware of his hands shaking uncontrollably against the mattress and the fly that was buzzing around the overhead light, yet he couldn't describe how he felt inside.

Perhaps it was for his own good, the hardened exoskeleton that his heart had retreated behind, but he wanted to cry so, so badly. He wanted some kind of release, confirmation that he was indeed capable of escaping the suit of armour that he felt himself slowly but surely adorn, but the tears still refused to fall.

His mind wandered. The Fates. They had brought him back, knowing full well what kind of world was waiting for him. Why hadn't they come to him sooner if time passed so quickly in the Void? In fact, none of it made sense to him. Besides the obvious, it would seem the fates had cheated him, rather than the other way around. Denied him a heroic death, and eternity in Elysium; denied him Annabeth and peacefulness in the mortal world. They were the source of his true anger.

He thought back to what his guidance counselor had advised him to do when he was feeling angry and ready to blow. Count to ten and breathe. Count to ten? What kind of advice was that? Ten measly seconds to allow the anger to safely dissipate and a state of normality to take hold once more. It had never worked, of course, and it was the cliched simplification of emotions in human culture that, once again, had Percy struggling for a solution.

He glanced around the cabin, trying to shake off those pointless feelings. Angry at Fate. A futile exercise, he thought. Rather surprisingly, his cabin was eerily similar to the way he had left it after saying goodnight to Annabeth all those years ago. The Minotaur horn was still hanging on the wall, and the small fountain trickled away, but the layer of clothes he usually left on the floor had been cleaned, folded neatly into the drawers, no doubt, leaving just a thin layer of dust covering every surface. Much like it had been before Poseidon had publicly claimed him.

"You know, I've never actually been in here before…" a light voice sounded, assaulting Percy's senses with a fierce beam of Summer light as the door opened abruptly.

The son of Poseidon groaned loudly, recoiling sharply, still unused to the well-lit surface. "You know, it's rude to enter someone's cabin without knocking," he complained, voice muffled beneath his wet pillow.

"I did knock; you didn't answer," was Piper's reply, closing the door behind her as she gave the cabin a once-over, before focusing on the teenager in bed.

Percy pulled the pillow off his face, frowning at the daughter of Aphrodite; her features hidden by the shadows, though her kaleidoscopic eyes shone through, worried, but...more vibrant in the dim light, he noted, than when he had set eyes on her earlier that day. "Then...why did you knock in the first place if you were going to enter anyway?" he replied childishly.

Piper gave him a blank stare, before rolling her eyes. "It's called being polite…" she retorted, seating herself on the edge of his bed, and giving it a small bounce to test the springiness.

He stared at her for a few seconds, expecting her to say more, before simply blinking, and then pressing her. "Right… Why are you here, Piper?"

She appeared to play coy, as though she was still quite unsure about the whole situation. Percy felt exactly the same way. "Do I need a reason to visit an old friend whom I thought was dead for 15 years?" was her lame reply.

"Our cabins are metres apart...we're going to see each other everyday…" was his equally as lame reply, which seemed to make Piper snap a tad, launching from the bed to stare at him deeply, frowning down at his bed-ridden form, finally able to get those words out.

"Yeah, right. I know what despair is, Percy. I know that if someone doesn't force you from this dust haven, you'll quite happily stare at the ceiling for days on end. You've only been here two or three hours and what have you done in that time? Pointed a sword at an innocent kid, had a little chat with Chiron, weirded out the whole camp, and then shut yourself in your cabin, that's what. Now come on, the dinner horn has blown," she ranted, eyes flashing with a touch of annoyance, though in truth, she knew exactly what he was feeling, and felt nought but pity for him. But even so, Piper knew full well that hiding away in a wooden shack for days on end was not the cure to Percy's ailment. She had been there.

The son of Poseidon stared at her, green eyes ablaze, expression blank. She thought he was just about to blow up in her face, though she held her ground, keeping her orbs focused solely on his, right up until Percy looked away from her with a small sigh. "I'm not hungry," he replied quietly, though his uppity stomach decided at that moment to growl fiercely.

Piper gave him a small smile, victorious. "Yes you are," she said, offering her hand to him.

"Yes I am…" he agreed with a small sigh, sensing the futility of arguing. Hunger was an understatement. They had been practically starved of food in the underworld. By his reckoning, the last time he had eaten was...fifteen years and two days ago. Some kind of record, he was sure.

He eyed her outstretched hand for a second, before accepting it gratefully, letting her pull his emasculated form from the bed, up to his feet, and out of the cabin door, letting go as the fierce light made him recoil in discomfort. He groaned, furrowing his brow, holding his tingling palm up to the sun to block it's murderous glare, only to sigh dejectedly. He suddenly found himself missing holding Annabeth's hand.

"Argus is going to take you to New York to see your mom," Piper told him as soon as he had caught up.

Percy choked a little, just now realising the despair and anguish he must have caused her. It felt like only yesterday since they had last spoken, but the reality was much more depressing. "W-when?" he swallowed, suddenly nervous at the prospective reunion.

Piper placed her hand on his shoulder, knowing just how overwhelming it must have been for the hero out of time. She ignored his subtle flinch at the contact, and instead gave him a comforting squeeze. "Tomorrow afternoon, and before you ask, she's doing great. They have a nice apartment, still living in Manhattan, of course."

He looked up, meeting Piper's eyes. "You've been looking after them?"

"Yeah. Sally, Paul and the-uh...yeah. They invite me over for dinner every month. Apparently the Gods gave the apartment to them shortly after your...vacation had been announced," she replied, almost letting slip an important detail, but she didn't want too much on Percy's mind. Besides, he would find out he was a brother, among other things, soon enough.

Percy almost smiled at the thought of his mom happy with a man that he knew treated her right, but hearing Piper talk about how the gods gifted his mother a new apartment just after he had died made his fists clench in anger. Frankly, he shouldn't have been surprised. It was such a 'god' thing to do. He could just about imagine Hermes knocking on the door to their old apartment and saying to his mother, 'Terribly sorry, Mrs. Jackson, Percy was killed whilst traversing hell...oh, and by the way, we've sold this apartment and brought you a new one in Carnegie Hill. Enjoy it.'

Piper noticed that he had zoned out, and that his arms were shaking just a tad. She gave his shoulder another squeeze, which seemed to break his stupor. Their eyes met once more. "Hey...are you alright?" she asked, voice calm, quiet, and soothing. Percy could only sigh in response. "I think we both know the answer to that question, Piper."

The daughter of Aphrodite didn't have a response to that. He was quite obviously not alright. From experience, she knew that time did heal all wounds. Maybe not completely. There were always going to be scars. But moving on was part of the road to recovery, not the end of it, and Piper hoped that Percy would have the strength and willpower for the road ahead, because there was a lot more that he didn't know, but would soon find out about.

"Come on… Let's eat…" was all she said, and with one final squeeze to his shoulder, turned, leading the son of Poseidon up the hill towards the dining pavillion.

The campers were all seated by the time they entered, and the atmosphere was at its usual party-level, though Percy could feel the eyes turn towards him when he appeared. The general chatter quietened, until only whispers remained. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and simply took his place at the head of the Poseidon table, though this only fueled the firestorm of rumours behind him. It was like reliving an unpleasant memory; an arbitrary one compared to some of his more recent escapades, but nonetheless, it reminded him of an imperfect time, before Annabeth.

Piper hadn't noticed Percy trailing off to his own table, but she certainly noticed the way his fists were clenched as she traced the object of those deafening whispers. Briskly, she was by his side, sending a deep, killer glare towards anyone who dared stare, or question her place on the Poseidon table. Rather quickly, the chatter rose to its previous levels, and Piper gave Percy a comforting smile as he visibly relaxed.

"Not one for following the rules, huh?" he said quietly, realising that in truth, he actually knew very little about the daughter of Aphrodite, aside from the obvious. That said, there were very few people he would rather have beside him in a fight. She was loyal, smart, and Percy trusted her with his life.

"You're one to talk, Perce," she teased in reply, bumping her shoulder lightly with his, before silence took its hold, as the last straggling cabins slowly filtered into the pavillion. Meanwhile, Percy's mind wandered. He thought about the Seven. About their mission. He thought about his mom and dad. He thought about his death and resurrection. Most of all, though, he thought about Annabeth. Where she was. What she was doing. If she was happy. If she had forgiven him.

He somehow doubted that last part. Annabeth was the type to storm right up to Hades and demand he bring Percy back to life, just so she could send him back to the Underworld herself for what he did. Try as he might, though, he did not feel happy that she had moved on, and he hated himself for it.

Pushing that particularly horrible thought away, his eyes came to focus on Piper's hands, and he found himself surprised at the lack of ring on her finger, and the lack of Jason, for that matter.

His ADHD got the better of him, and he blurted out, "Where is Jason, Piper? I would have thought you'd be in your thirties with a house of your own, a few kids, enjoying that New Rome heat… What happened while I was away?"

Piper appeared to be surprised at the question, a faraway look appearing on her face as she seemed to try and work out how to answer. Bluntly, and obliviously, she replied, "He died," smiling sadly at the now long distant memories of her past love, as though Percy had simply reminded her of how things used to be. Back then.

In contrast, Percy appeared shocked at the revelation. In his mind, it was only days ago that he was speaking and joking with the Son of Jupiter, and to hear he was dead? It was yet another sucker-punch to his gut, and all in all, his day wasn't going well.

He tuned the rest of the world out as his mind went blank, vaguely aware of Piper shaking his shoulder, regretting her choice of words.

It was only when the familiar sound of Chiron's silencing hoof reached his ears that Percy returned to the real world, gazing at the immortal trainer of heroes as he commanded the attention of the entire hall.

"Fifteen years ago, the children of the gods, all of whom not much older or younger than any of you here today, fought and beat a great evil that threatened the very existence of the world we know. They fought for the Gods, for the world, for each other, but mainly, for you. Today, we honour their sacrifices, their bravery, their legacy… To the fallen, and...to the risen!" he toasted, raising his glass, and to Percy's chagrin, gazing in his direction, followed by two hundred quizzical eyes.

Internally, he cringed, and externally, he sighed - something he was doing a lot of recently. He raised his cup, though, to his fallen friend; to the past.

The wood nymphs served food, dumping a fat, juicy burger right in front of Percy, and while the rest of the campers stood to offer a portion of their food to the gods, he could only sit there, staring at his plate, whilst Piper looked upon him with sadness and regret.

"You know, I would have done anything for a cheeseburger in Tartarus...but now that there's one in front of me...it doesn't seem all that great, does it?"

"I'm not so sure about this, Piper…"

The daughter of Aphrodite whirled around to face Percy, staring at him for a few seconds, drinking in his body language that oozed discomfort. "What do you mean?" she replied calmly.

He gave a shrug, eyeing the apartment and the warm glow emanating from the windows above. It was a nice place in a nice part of town - the very least his mother deserved. "It's been fifteen years… They're happy… I can't just show up out of the blue and jump straight back into their lives. It wouldn't be fair… Best to stay dead to them..." he said quietly, rubbing his face in his hands.

Piper was taken aback. The Percy she knew would have broken the doors off their hinges if it meant seeing his mother.

She took a step towards him, swallowing, forcing their eyes to meet. And though he stood a full head higher than she did, those intense orbs were enough to make him listen. "How could you think that, Percy? This is your mother we're talking about. She thinks about you all the time… She didn't stop loving you, just because you went away. Now, you're going to see her willingly, or unwillingly. And don't think I can't make you," she said, with air of finality to her speech, as she straightened his fleece, and placed her palm on his back, encouraging him forwards and into the apartment lobby.

Percy breathed out, knowing better than to argue with Piper. She could be scary when she wanted to be, and under her incessant, guiding hand, he entered the clean, modern building.

They took the stairs, eventually stopping outside a rather innocuous-looking white door, Percy thinking only about how his mother would react to his reappearance. He knew that she would have been absolutely broken to hear about his death, despite knowing full well what a world he lived in. But if Piper said she was happy, then Percy believed her.

The fragrant air of homemade cooking filled his nostrils, triggering a wave of old memories from his childhood. His old step-father had been an utterly reprehensible slob, and it had been his mother's wonderful cooking that had kept his nostrils intact. Percy knew, instantly, that they had the right door. He glanced at Piper; she gave him a comforting smile. "I'm right behind you, Perce…"

Breathing in deeply, and exhaling loudly, he nodded, ringing the buzzer without further delay. Inside there was a small flurry of activity, and those brief seconds lasted several lifetimes inside his head.

The door opened, and Percy was greeted by a familiar face. Only...it wasn't. He stared at the boy in front of him, who can't have been that much younger than he was, and maybe an inch or two shorter. His hair was dirty-blonde in colour, messy in style, and semi-short in cut. It was his eyes, though. His eyes. Deep sea-green. They were the orbs that stared back at Percy when he looked in the mirror. It made his skin crawl.

Meanwhile, the teen in question was thoroughly weirded out. He stood his ground, though. "Can I...help you?" he asked slowly, fully prepared to slam the door closed.

His voice broke Percy's daze, and he shook his head, giving a small, nervous smile that looked more like a grimace. "This is the apartment of Sally Jackson, right?" the demi-god inquired.

The teen frowned, on guard. "No...This is the apartment of Sally Blofis. Now, who are y-" he began, but at that moment, Piper decided to appear out from behind Percy, smiling somewhat nervously herself, having prayed the person to answer the door wasn't going to be him.

"Hey, Luke," she greeted simply, defusing that built-up tension, and making the teen visibly relax.

"Oh, hello, Piper. I didn't know you were coming around..." he replied, opening the door widely so they could enter, though he eyed Percy with a certain level of suspicion.

The demi-god in question kept his distance as he shuffled in; his turn to be thoroughly weirded out, but not enough to make him bolt just yet.

It was a spacious, but homely place. An upgrade, certainly, on the place Percy had grown up in. He approved.

From the living room, appeared Paul. Or rather, an older version of the Paul he remembered. Salt n' pepper hair now grey, a few wrinkles...but with that same friendly, polite, genuine smile. "Piper! We haven't seen you for a while! Why didn't you...call...us…What the fu-" he began, eyes falling on Percy mid-sentence. It took a second, but the realisation dawned on him, and fortunately, Sally chose the right moment to pipe up.

"Who's at the door, Paul? For a second, I thought I heard…" she said, entering from the kitchen, voice trailing off as her warm, motherly eyes focused on the spitting image of her long-dead son.

Percy couldn't help but smile at the site of his mother, stepping towards her just as her knees buckled.

"Mom!"
"Sally!"
"Mrs. Blofis!"
"Mom?" the chorus sounded, but before the others could react physically, Sally's limp body was already being cradled in Percy's arms. With a degree of difficulty, he managed to snake an arm underneath her knees and carried her to the couch, placing her down gently. Unfortunately, just as the memories of Tartarus were fresh in his mind, his body was in exactly the same state as it was when he had fallen - broken, and it took all of his depleted willpower to stop himself from crying out as a syringe of hot, disabling pain shot its way down his back.

The soft but firm grip of Piper pulled him away seconds before he thought he would collapse on top of the comatose form of his mother.

"Are you alright, Perce?" she asked quietly, concerned, just as Paul, who had gotten over his debilitating shock, and 'Luke', rushed to Sally's side.

"I'll be fine…" he replied curtly, grimacing slightly as the stabbing pain was slowly replaced by an uncomfortable numbness that colonised his lower and upper back.

The daughter of Aphrodite eyed him, the doubt and scepticism clearly present on her face as his sullen sea-green eyes stared his mother's form. She didn't believe Percy, but then Percy didn't believe Percy.

"H-how...w-what… H-how are you here, P-percy…?" Paul stuttered, turning around to face his ghost of a stepson, after ensuring his wife wasn't hurt in any way.

"It's...a tale...but I think we should wait until all parties present are conscious to hear it… Nice apartment you have here, Paul…" the son of Poseidon said, internally cringing at his pathetic attempt at lightening the mode. Paul could only nod mutely in response.

The splendor and grandeur of Olympus was unquestionable, and as Chiron walked along the ethereal pathway to the throne room, he couldn't help but think about how little it had changed in the last two thousand years or so. In fact, the only changes of note were the rebuilt statues and the addition of several gardens. It was a shame, then, that every statue, garden and palace that had to be rebuilt after the Second Titan War held a certain sadness to it, the explanation for which being the architect herself.

Annabeth had only enough time to design and oversee half of the rebuilding that was required to make Olympus whole again before the events preceding the Second Giant War were set in motion. It was several years after the war had ended when the daughter of Athena had shown up on Olympus out of the play, a modicum of blueprints in her arms, and commenced the rebuilding once more in earnest. It was a breath of fresh air from the Annabeth that had been brooding and depressed after the war, with good reason, but when he had asked her why she had completed the work, she had simply replied, 'Closure'...It was the last time they talked face to face, Annabeth disappearing that very night.

Without a doubt, the most stirring of reminders was the large statue of Percy himself that flanked the massive gates that led to the throne room. It was the piece that Annabeth added last, and it was similar to his statue at Camp Halfblood, though it was a lot larger and ten times as impressive. It took Zeus several months to realise it was there, though when he had grumbled about its size, the murderous looks of several council members were enough to make him back down.

Her reasoning for putting it by the throne room was a mystery to Chiron. He suspected it was to remind the gods who had fought and died for them, one last silent, subtle protest to point out their failures. Somehow, he doubted it had worked.

With one last sad glance towards the valiant marble sentinel, the centaur pushed open the doors, stepped into the throne room, and was immediately greeted by the headache inducing sounds of all-powerful deities talking over each other.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it was the day of their quarterly meeting, where, inevitably, nothing meaningful was talked about or discussed. Simply the timeless ramblings and feuds between immortal beings who took everything they had for granted.

They were, however, gods; artisans and thinkers. Warriors and custodians. And for all their many flaws, they were deserving of respect.

The throne room was as grandiose as ever - perhaps even more so than before after Annabeth's redesign had been completed. The only thing that had been left untouched were the thrones themselves, for they were of their respective gods' design; a reflection of their personality, and a physical link between the world of immortals, and the puny existence of mortals below.

Poseidon's, Chiron noted, looked as sullen and downhearted as the man himself these days. He mourned his loss, as any real father would, and while it was true that 15 years was insignificant in the eyes of an immortal, so true must it have been that gods could brood their lost loved ones a lot longer than mortals on Earth.

Chiron stepped into the middle of the madness, and bowed deeply to the 20-foot tall deities, sparing a glance as he did so towards the God of the Sea, who had thus far stayed out of the family feud.

At sight of the trainer of heroes, Poseidon straightened, immediately recognising that he actually had something meaningful to say… Or perhaps he simply wanted an excuse to silence the endless bickering. He slammed his trident into the base of his throne, which let loose an almighty crack, much like that of waves as they crash violently against a breakwater, which immediately silenced the family of 12.

Zeus gave his brother a glance of annoyance, as though he had stolen his signature move of deafening people to quietness. He certainly didn't voice his it, however, and so simply dipped his head in acknowledgment towards the comparatively tiny centaur below.

"Chiron… You have news for our ears?" Zeus said, direct as ever, and characteristically loud, even though he probably didn't mean it to be so.

Once more, Chiron spared a glance towards Poseidon, who sat up in response, as if sensing the centaur's trepidation.

"Well, my Lords and Ladies…"