I just wanted to thank you all for the fantastic feedback this story has been getting. It makes me ridiculously happy, and I love reading each and every one of your reviews. So, 111 follows, 88 reviews, 52 favorites. It's a fantastic response I never expected, and thank you guys so much. I hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.

-ROC6

Percy's eyes felt like someone had poured sand in them then super-glued them together. His thoughts felt as though they were wading through a pool of jello, and there was a slight thickness in his ears, separating him from the rest of the world. Nevertheless, he pried his eyes open, slowly blinking the fog of sleep from his mind. He found himself staring up at the ceiling from his cot, which was a blissful white contrast to the yellow that was seemingly everywhere else in the facility. He'd been in the hospital for roughly twenty-four hours he estimated-no, longer. That medication, whatever it was, had left him loopy for a few days. He dimly remembered a conversation, something he wasn't supposed to tell the doctor. Oh, it was coming back to him. Percy had told the doctor about the mythological world. He knew this was bad, knew it should worry him, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset by this, which also should have made him nervous but he couldn't bring himself to be nervous.

In fact, he felt happy. Not in an excessive, over the top way, just… Happy. And relaxed. And maybe a little bit tired. Similar to what people typically referred to as their vacation mode, he surmised. He hoped Annabeth was doing well. He wasn't worried since he just wasn't capable of being worried. He was just happy. By Percy's estimation, it was probably because of the medicine that had been given to him, and while that normally would've infuriated him, he was, and he knew he was starting to sound like a broken record, happy.

The raven haired teen swung his legs over the edge of his cot, then hesitated after he stood up since his legs momentarily buckled. He then proceeded to just be, relaxed and content in his peaceful surroundings. For about five seconds. Then his ADHD took over. He started drumming his fingers, tapping his foot, walking laps around the room, jogging in place. Percy was going to resort to counting the lines on his hands when a nurse finally walked in and handed him a tray of pancakes, just like the one he'd had a few days prior, and, by his estimation, the past few days, though he didn't really remember for certain.

He finished breakfast, gradually feeling more alert, a niggling of doubt forming in his mind as he worried over Annabeth, fearing what he'd told Dr. Baker and what it spelled for the Greek world. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but he was so hyped up on medication he wasn't thinking straight, and gods, how dare that woman take advantage of him in that state.

Percy was finished his breakfast when he saw there was once again a little white pill waiting for him by the edge of his tray. He sighed, knowing he was going to regret this later, but he also knew that if he didn't take the medicine now, there were likely less desirable ways that the doctors could give it to him, so he took the medicine.

Gradually Percy started to feel better. The tension slowly seeped out of his muscles, his worries seemed suddenly less pressing. He became happy, calm. He was a little sleepy, but he didn't mind. He got up, fiddled with his shirt and did various other trivial things to expend some of the excess energy his ADHD gave him, though it didn't seem quite as bad as usual. Time was no longer a restraint, since he had no concept of its passing inside the annoyingly yellow room, besides when the nurse brought him breakfast, lunch and dinner.

At some point, the nurse entered his room through the panel door along the one wall, saying it was time for him to go to his therapy session with Dr. Baker, to which he easily and obediently complied.

He sat down in the chair across from the doctor's desk, a cushy reading chair someone might find in a living room, and propped his feet up on her desk.

"Good to see you, Percy," she greeted, eying his feet, clad only in thick white socks, warily, "You're feeling all right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, maybe a little too eagerly, "I feel fine. Great, actually."

"That's good," the doctor murmured softly, likely more to herself than to Percy, then spoke up a little louder so she was clearly addressing him this time, "How are you liking your accommodations?"

"Oh, I like them just fine," Percy answer cheerily, "I mean they're not perfect, but I can live with that. Though the yellow is a little… Excessive. I prefer the color blue. But I can live with it."

Seemingly satisfied with his responses, the doctor scribbled some note down on her paper, then set the pen down, "That's good. We're sorry for the excessive yellow, but since most people link the color with happiness-"

The green eyed teen waved her off, "It's fine."

"That's good," Dr. Baker said with a smile, before her face grew more solemn, "I need you to tell me, why do you think Poseidon is your father?"

Percy's smile melted off of his face, though he didn't look visibly upset, then he spoke, more towards himself, "Right, you know about all of that."

He surveyed the room for a moment, as if deciding what to do, then gave the doctor a cheesy, lopsided smile and snapped his fingers, a look of somewhat intense concentration on his face, "Hey, so, you know nothing of the Greek world."

There was an almost transparent, mist-like substance that was emitted from his fingertips, which both he and the doctor could only just see. He looked satisfied, then glanced up at the doctor expectantly. When she watched him, confused and remained completely stoic and aware of what was happening, he frowned.

"I know I did it right this time-Crap. She's clear-sighted," realization dawned on the raven haired boy's face, though he still didn't seem particularly upset or worried, and he glanced, disgruntled, at the woman before him, "You're clear-sighted."

"Clear-sighted?" Dr. Baker asked, head tilted, hands folded neatly in front of her as she gave him a polite smile.

"Yeah, well, since there's no erasing this from your memory," the doctor gave the teen an alarmed look, which he quickly dismissed, "Might as well explain. Some mortals, like you, have the Sight. It allows people to see through the Mist, the barrier that separates our world from yours. Typically, clear-sighted mortals are creative, open-minded people, though not always. Any questions?"

By the end of the explanation, the teen was clearly mimicking professors in an over the top and dramatic way, not particularly caring about anything, since he'd been induced into a perpetually happy state.

Dr. Baker studied his facial expression, then pulled her pen from where she'd tucked in her mousy hair and scribbled something down, before turning back to the teen, a gleam in her eye, "So, let's start at the beginning. Can you explain in more detail why you think that your father's a god?"

Percy stared at her blankly, "He claimed me."

"How?"

"Well, to summarize, he made a glowing green trident appear over my head," the teen was still giving her a blank why-are-you-asking-these-weird-questions look.

"And how did he do that?" the doctor pressed.

"Because he's a god," Percy shifted positions in his chair, bringing his feet off the psychologist's desk and drumming his fingers on his leg.

"You father is not a god, Percy," Dr. Baker gave him a sympathetic smile, and his thoughts, which felt more like syrup than thoughts, focused on trying to make her understand.

"Yes, he is. He's Poseidon, god of the sea."

"No, Percy," the doctor shook her head sadly, "According to your birth certificate, your father was a man named Louis Jackson, he died at sea when you were a month old. It was quite tragic, actually. Apparently, he'd owned an up and coming marine biology practice and was researching when a storm came by. Regardless, though, he's not a god."

Percy rolled his eyes at her obliviousness, "That's just a story fabricated by the Mist. It's not true, my dad's a god."

Leaning back in her chair, the doctor thought for a moment, then stared Percy in the eyes, "Think about this from my perspective. I've lived every day of my life living a fairly normal existence, and then, I meet you, and you tell me that there are monsters walking among us and that the Greek gods are real. It sounds a bit crazy, doesn't it?"

The teen shrugged, brushing a few locks of black hair out of his eyes, "It may sound crazy, but it's true. My dad's a god."

Sighing, the mousy-haired woman settled in for what was sure to be a long session, "Tell me about your dad."

Percy took a deep breath, then exhaled heavily out his nose, marveling at the obliviousness of mortals, "I just told you like five minutes ago, he's Poseidon, god-"

"No," Dr. Baker cut in sharply, much to his aggravation, "Tell me about your father."

"He's the god-" Once again, Percy was cut off, and his fingers twitched before his medication took over again and forcibly stopped the little bit of aggravation that had been growing in his mind.

"No, your father was not a god, Percy," the doctor's tone was gentle, but left no room for argument, "Tell me about your father."

The cycle continued for what Percy estimated to be about two or so hours, but with his ADHD, it was difficult for him to keep track of time, so it could've been only forty minutes or as long as four hours. But after a long and tedious session of being told that no, his father was not a god, it seemed that the doctor had finally tired of the fruitless exercise and let him return to his room (or was it cell?), which, while boring, at least wasn't stupidly annoying.