When Percy was in his last year of high school, his guidance counselor pulled him aside and said that even though his grades were up and he had great extracurriculars, he still needed at least forty hours minimum of volunteer hours to graduate. After much panicking, Percy applied to nearly every place in town that would normally always give volunteer opportunities to high schoolers: animal shelters, libraries, soup kitchens, even retirement homes! But no one was currently looking for volunteers. At Annabeth's insistence, the last place Percy applied for was the only place that accepted him. A museum.

Lame! Not even a cool museum like the one from Night at the Museum. This one had no T-Rex skeleton chilling at the entrance or angry capuchin monkeys. It was just a small museum that was technically part of NYU and all they did was focus on ancient civilizations. Which, yeah okay, maybe that was a little cool, except he hasn't seen a single sarcophagus or headpiece. Most of the items here were bits of pottery, half of a mural, some chains, and a bunch of reconstructed shoes and shirts. But, Percy lamented, it was the only place his application got accepted and at least they were flexible. Most of his hours were on the weekend, unless Casey, the assistant curator as well as his supervisor, needed him for one or two hours on some random afternoon. His job was just to entertain kids, hand out pamphlets, and just generally assist any of the researchers or grad students that oversaw a collection. He laughed a little the first time he visited the Ancient Greece section. For some reason, artists never could capture Zeus's indifference or even Hermes's carefree spirit.

Still, though, it was an easy gig. And even after Percy got the forty hours he needed, he stayed. Somewhere along the way, he got pretty interested in the stories of Tiamat, in the legend of Gilgamesh, in Horus and his pharaohs, in the Mayans, Persians, Shang Dynasty, and even the Romans. These stories were pretty cool, and Percy knew better than to dismiss them. After all, if the Greek gods were real, who is to say that others aren't?

When Percy graduated high school, he began interning for the museum instead. Something he could put on his resume, Paul said helpfully. And so his responsibilities grew. He still did the tours for kids on Saturdays, but since it was now summer, he became a more active member of staff. Casey, after discovering his affinity with Ancient Greek, put him nearly full time in the Ancient Greece unit, where every day he had to pretend that there wasn't a vase with his naked father looking at him or a mural of his naked uncle chasing a pretty nymph. It did, however, put him in a good position to hear any news. Upper staff tended to gossip around the halls, and the Ancient Greece exhibit was next to the Sumatran and Etruscan exhibits, and the people who ran those collections were always in the know, and sometimes, if he was lucky, he'd have a great story to take back home and entertain his mom and Paul with. Today was one of those days.

Percy was about to leave for his lunch break when he heard Miguel and Harper, two grad students that worked with the program, talking about a new addition to the exhibit.

"Hey, Percy!" Harper called him over, "have you heard? The guy the program normally sends out to auctions hit the jackpot!" Miguel shushed her, looking over his shoulder, but his grin was too wide to actually be reproachful. "Sorry!" She whispered.

"They sent him out to buy some more coins from Athens and some earrings from upper-class Spartan women, but he found a whole statue," Miguel whispered excitedly. Harper whisper squealed.

"A whole statue?" Percy asked, astonished.

"I know! Can you imagine? Us? With a statue?" she gushed, "and not even a small one, I heard from Edna and Casey that this thing is life-sized. Over six feet."

"I'm surprised one of the bigger museums hasn't taken it, honestly," Miguel hummed. Harper swatted his arm and glared.

"If you jinx it, I'll kill you myself," she warned. He pretended to zip his mouth. Nodding in satisfaction she continued. "But here's the craziest part," she said, leaning in. "The statue is of a god that we didn't know about." Harper was nearly spasming with giddiness.

"How do we know it's a god, then?" Percy asked.

Miguel grinned again. "The ornamentations on the pedestal are the same ones used with every major statue ever done of the gods. The headpiece he is wearing isn't any associated with nobles, merchants, or peasants. Plus, his chiton has a clasp near the shoulder with the symbol of Olympus."

"There's something in the details of the hem that suggest a linkage to the Island of Delos which means he could be related to the goddess Artemis," Harper added.

"My bet is that he's her son or something," Miguel said.

"Oh jeez," Harper said, wrinkling her nose, "no, not that. Artemis is like the one goddess who would never have a kid."

"What's your theory then, huh?" Miguel prodded.

"Maybe her lover? Either before or after Orion?" she offered.

"Maybe a brother," Percy piped, lost in thought.

"Could be. Anything is better than thinking that Artemis had a secret son," she said, a pointed glare at Miguel. Miguel threw his hands up in defense. "What? It could happen!" The pair started to wander away leaving Percy with unsettled thoughts and no longer craving burgers.

When his shift ended, Percy walked back home still lost in thoughts. He couldn't even ask anyone right now if they had ever heard of this mysterious god that was linked to Artemis. A month ago, Olympus had closed and Percy hasn't seen heads or tails of the gods. He hasn't even been able to call Annabeth or Grover in that time because even Iris was indisposed! It was radio silence from the gods, and the last time this happened Percy had been twelve and Zeus thought he stole his bolt. And even then, the silence hadn't been that bad. Something had Olympus on edge and whatever it was it couldn't be good.

Percy glanced around and then looked over his shoulders. He couldn't sense any danger, so he reached into his backpack for his emergency cell phone and dialed Annabeth. He ducked and swerved with each ring that passed, knowing that with every second, a monster could home in on him. Finally, Annabeth picked up.

"Everything alright?" she asked, getting to the point. He worried her, he realized.

"I'm good," he said, "sorry. It's just," he ran his fingers through his hair and gave another look over his shoulder, "do you know anything about why Olympus is closed?"

She sighed into the phone. "No," she admitted, "last time I was there I couldn't see anything amiss."

"Shoot," he muttered.

"Why? Do you know something?"

"No," Percy said. "Maybe? I'm not sure yet." Annabeth didn't answer, prompting Percy to continue. "It could be nothing, but the museum found an old statue today. It isn't here yet, but they're pretty sure it's of a Greek god that we've never heard of before."

"What do you mean? Like a minor god?"

"No," Percy shook his head, "like, never before seen straight from the factory, new. And get this, the statue has ties to Olympus and Artemis." He knew that part would intrigue her. Artemis was basically a recluse who was only ever on Olympus two days a year, preferring to stay with her Hunters.

"You think this statue has something to do with Olympus being closed, then?"

"No clue," he responded, "but it's weird, right? This thing has already been authenticated by one historian, and he said that it's at least as old as the Pantheon." Annabeth gave a low whistle on the other end. "Exactly. The Institute is looking to get it authenticated like two more times before bringing it in, but Annabeth, I think it might be the real deal."

"But what god haven't we ever heard of? This is so odd," she said, sounding frustrated. She always hated when she couldn't figure out a puzzle or a problem. He hummed in agreement. This conversation had been going on for too long and there were no new answers. "Alright," he said, "I gotta go. I'll let you know if I figure something out."

"Me too," she promised.

"Stay safe, Wise Girl."

"You too, Seaweed Brain."

The call disconnected and he ran down the street. He looked behind him as he turned a corner and saw a monster sniffing around where he had just been. He grinned, that was a close one.

Percy would love to say that the day that the statue arrived was a normal Tuesday with absolutely no issues, but that would be a lie. The normally cloudy sky was almost pitch black when he left for his internship that morning. The scent of a thunderstorm thick in the air. Percy gripped his coat tighter around him and lifted the hood to protect his face from the strong winds.

When he finally arrived at the museum, he was only dry due to his powers. New York was soaked to the bone, barely a soul willing to wander the streets this morning unless they had to.

"Percy!" Casey, his supervisor, greeted. "How'd you escape the rain?"

"Please," Percy scoffed, smiling, "I smelled that storm from a mile away."

"Ugh," Casey groaned, "I should just call you every morning before coming in instead of looking at the weather app, your instincts never miss." Percy laughed and shook his head.

"So," he said, "what's on the docket today? I can't think that we'll have any guests with the weather like this."

Casey grinned ruefully, "Yeah, probably not. Doesn't mean we're going to slack, though," she said.

"Of course not," Percy replied, dutifully.

"Of course not," Casey repeated, "we're actually expecting a shipment today," she said. "Edna thinks it might be the statue this time. We had it authenticated two more times and both times it's come back as the real deal, can you believe it? The last guy who looked at it even emailed me about how astonished he was that the statue was kept in such good condition. It's apparently as if no rain, sunlight, wind, or anything, ever touched it. That's basically impossible," she gushed. Then she looked at Percy, "if that thing doesn't get here before the end of the day, I'm blaming the Met. They've been gunning for it since last week."

"Sneak into the Metropolitan Museum of Art after midnight. Got it," Percy nodded.

"Good kid," Casey praised, "that's why we keep you."

"You keep me because I'm a delight."

"We keep you because you're the only one that applied," she reminded him.

"And because I'm a delight."

"That's not what I said."

"That's not a no," Percy grinned.

She waved him off, laughing. "Get out of here, go find Harper and ask her to set you up in the Mesopotamian section today. You've been getting too comfortable in Ancient Greece." Percy gave her a stink eye but did what she said.

Like he had predicted, the day went slow as the weather remained wet and dreary. There was rarely any sunlight, but today, the sky had been plunged into a pitch black abyss, with only the occasional bolt of lightning shedding some light. Percy grimaced every time he heard the rumble of thunder, wondering what on earth had set Zeus into a fury. Occasional guests did come in, though, and Percy did his job. He interacted with them and gave explanations if needed, handed out pamphlets, and pointed out where the restrooms were. The usual. By the time closing rolled around, it was only Percy, Casey, Edna, and a couple of graduate students.

Percy could feel Casey's disappointment at the lack of a new statue. Apparently, the shipment had gotten delayed due to the thunder and rain, and although Silas promised he'd get it in by the end of the day, it appeared even he was no match for the weather.

"I'm sorry," Percy said to Casey. They were walking out with the rest of the group, straggling a bit in the back. "Bright side," Percy tried, "at least we know it wasn't the Met."

Casey opened her mouth to respond when a loud creak sounded from the back of the museum. Percy and Casey stopped to turn their ears, prompting the others ahead to pause, too.

"It's coming from the back," Edna said.

"Do you think something fell?" one of the students asked.

"Sorry for the delay!" a new voice sounded, "the weather was killer, but Silas would never lie," Silas said. He was dressed in a khaki romper and had a utility belt around his waist. Percy snorted and stifled a laugh when he reached out to take Casey's hand, "Silas would especially never keep a pretty lady waiting."

"Silas," Casey greeted, pulling her hand back, "how have you been? We haven't seen you in so long."

"Too long," Silas agreed. "But enough about Silas," he said. He led them to the loading dock behind the museum and lifted the shutter doors of the truck he had parked. Inside the truck was a bounty of carefully packaged antiquities from all kinds of ancient societies, but all eyes search for the piece de resistance: the statue. And there it was, in the very back of the truck, secured, not knowing of the eager crowd that had waited two weeks for its arrival.

Silas whistled and called down the driver. "Marco, help Silas unload." Silas then turned back to them. "It is magnificent, no?"

"I can barely see it," Percy admitted.

"Why don't we show you where you will be setting up?" Edna proposed, eagerly. "Then you can come back and bring the statue with Marco, and we can all see it how it was meant to be seen."

Silas clapped his hands. "Perfect. Lead the way."

Once Edna and Casey showed Silas where the statue would go, he left with a promise to be back shortly. "Be prepared to have your minds blown," he grinned.

And blown their minds were.

When Silas and Marco came back with the infamous statue in tow, Percy felt his breath hitch. Despite interning in a museum, Percy had never really been an art guy. He could never look at a painting and appreciate the vision of the artist the way Annabeth or his mother could. He would either think it was nice or that it wasn't, and that was it. But this? This was art. Somehow the artist managed to capture divinity in stone. The statue was of a young man, late teens, or early twenties if Percy had to guess. The marble somehow allowed for his curls to look soft but his jaw and cheekbones to look sharp. His chiton looks like it was flowing, and, if Percy looked close enough, he could see the veins running along his hands. But it was his eyes that had Percy mesmerized. Somehow the artist had captured raw betrayal. Marble was cold, marble was inorganic, it wasn't sentient in any way, and yet. And yet and yet and yet. There was pain shining from within the stone. The posture showed defiance, the eyes showed betrayal, and the hands showed suppliance- a last ditch attempt for mercy. From what, Percy didn't know. He wasn't even aware that there were other people in the room, all admiring the statue to varying degrees.

He looked down, the pedestal on which the young god was perched on had a litany of ancient Greek words. Percy leaned forward, crouching slightly.

For who should release Apollo from his keep, shall face the wrath of Zeus.

Apollo, Percy mouthed the name. He glanced up. The beautiful man was named Apollo. "What did you do, dude?" Percy muttered to himself.

"What was that, Percy?" Casey asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned around and noticed that the others were looking at him. He flushed, not having meant to get so lost in his head.

"Sorry," he smiled, chagrinned. Then he pointed at the inscription. "I was just trying to read the inscription," he admitted. "And I could be wrong," he wasn't wrong, "but I think his name is Apollo." No sooner had Percy said the name did the lights flicker completely off and the sound of lightning striking roared through the museum. Percy heard some people scream and felt parts of the ceiling crumble above him. He ducked behind the statue, except that too was beginning to crack. Beams of light escaped from each crack, slowly at first, but as the cracks began to spread the light got brighter and brighter, encompassing the entire room. Percy had to close his eyes and turn away. Never before had Percy felt such warmth and been in the presence of such brilliance.

When the light finally began to recede, Percy chanced a look back towards the statue, except, where there once stood a man made of stone, there now stood one born of flesh. The marble, Percy decided, did not do him justice. Beautiful was normally just an adjective, but for this being, it was an understatement.

The man, Apollo, Percy reminded himself, turned his bewildered gaze towards him and Percy fought not to buckle under the weight of such blue eyes. Get a grip, Jackson.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Apollo asked.

Outside, there was still an electrical storm happening. Lightning bolt after lightning bolt struck the area right outside the building, and Percy could feel the wind picking up. Wrath of Zeus, Percy remembered. Shit.

"We have to go," Percy said in lieu of answering. He glanced nervously at the windows, grabbed the god's hand, and began to pull him towards the exit.

Apollo pulled his hand back and looked affronted. "Do you know who I am, mortal?"

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"I am Phoebus Apollo. You've heard of me, I'm sure."

"Sorry dude, but can't say I have." Percy surveyed the area, looking for any form of cover. His eyes landed on Casey and Edna, crumbled by the wall, and the grad students and Silas thrown across the room. His heart ached for the people he'd come to care about. He didn't hear Apollo spluttering behind him.

"Excuse me?!"

Percy whirled around. "I do not have time for this," Percy growled. "Do you see that shit show outside? Do you hear all that thunder? That's a grade A upset king of the gods throwing an absolute fit because I accidentally released you from the statue you were in. On top of that, when he struck the museum we're in, my friends got hit and I don't even know if they're okay, so if you could actually tone down the diva behavior, Mariah Carey, that would be great!"

"Of course they're going to be fine, so how about we focus on me for a minute, okay?"

"How can you be sure?" Percy asked, worry and annoyance warring in his tone.

Apollo scoffed. "Hello," he gestured to himself. "That's what I do-" He stopped. His eyes widened. He touched himself quickly, first on the chest, then on his face, then had each arm inspect the other until he finally turned his attention to the injured mortals strewn like ragdolls on the floor. A low keen left his throat.

"I can't feel their injuries," Apollo whispered hollowly. "Why can't I tell what ails them? Why can't I cure them?" He asked, panic entering his tone. His voice pitched up, and his breathing started becoming more erratic.

Percy took this opportunity to grab his hand again and began running out the door and into the storm. He spared a glance to the god beside him who was too lost in his worsening hysteria that he didn't even notice he was being pulled away again. "We have to go," Percy pulled, "I'm pretty sure that the storm will follow you, so I'd really rather get it away from the city." He wracked his head trying to think of somewhere safe to go. He couldn't take the god back home, that would put his mom and Paul in danger, but he also didn't have many other options.

He turned to Apollo. "I need you to snap out of whatever you're going through and shelf it for a better time, dude, sorry." Apollo nodded, though he hadn't regained the confident air he had before. "Good. Can you do that god thing where you pop to a different location like that," Percy asked, snapping his finger.

"Maybe?"

"Okay, let's try." Percy pointed at the streetlight across the road, "can you take us there?"

Apollo squared his jaw and gripped Percy's shoulder, concentration lining his face. With a pop that left Percy's ears ringing, they were across the street under the light post. Percy turned to grin at Apollo and saw the god looking relieved.

"Good," Percy breathed, "good, good. Okay. I think I know a place. It's far enough from the city and secluded enough that there's probably no one there, and best of all, it's close to my father's domain so dear uncle probably won't try anything." Percy said, then paused. "Maybe won't try anything. Hopefully. You never know."

"There are few people my father would hesitate to cross, who is your father?"

"Your father?" Percy choked, "Ze- he's your father?"

"Yes," Apollo said slowly. "Mortal education must really be lacking; I'll have to rectify that. But continue, who is your father?"

"Poseidon."

Apollo nodded. "That will do, father only upsets uncle if there's no other way. He'll reach us eventually, of course, but his hesitation should buy us some time."

"Great. Cool. We'll get back to that other thing later," Percy said, "for now though, take us to Montauk. There's a cabin there that only me and my mom ever use."

"Montauk?"

"It's this little place off of Long Island," Percy explained. Apollo shook his head, still lost. "Like 2 or 3 hours out of New York City?" The blank look in Apollo's eyes remained. "Dude." Apollo shrugged, helplessly. Percy gaped. "Just how long were you a statue?" he asked incredulously.

"What do you mean?"

"When I found you," Percy explained, "you were a statue. A six foot something block of marble."

Apollo looked lost. "The last thing I can remember," he started, "was being on Olympus before the Council. I was called forward, but I don't recall why," he continued. Percy could tell he was losing himself more and more in his memories. "There were whispers of a mutiny, but I had nothing to do with that. Not this time. But father wouldn't believe it." The blonde god grew more agitated. "He was going to kill me," Apollo realized. "I was brought to the Council to be made an example. He turned me into a statue?" he asked, turning to Percy. Percy nodded, unable to say anything.

Apollo sagged in grief. "No."

"I'm sorry."

"No, no, no!" Apollo ran his hands through his curls, messing up his hair. "What is this New York City? Is it by Athens? Sparta? Perhaps closer to Crete? Ithaca? Please, tell me."

"This isn't Greece." Percy said, "Olympus hasn't been in Greece for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Nearly two thousand years."

Apollo sunk to his knees and wailed.

In that moment Percy hated Zeus for doing this to his own son. Sure, the guy had been cocky, but now he was broken. The knowledge that the world had kept going while he was trapped in stone was weighing down on him, and Percy could see his shoulders shaking. Tears mingled with raindrops on his face. They had to go but Percy wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Apollo," he whispered, "Apollo we can't stay here."

"Okay," the god responded. "Okay." He cleared his throat and wiped his face, then went to get up. "So, this Montauk," he started. Percy could see he was embarrassed about crying. "If you picture it in your head and let me see it, I should be able to find it." Percy nodded in acquiescence. That sounded like a plan.

He closed his eyes and pictured the cabin, the sand dunes, and the beach. He could see the waves crashing into the shore, the small piper birds running around, and the multitude of seashells scattered everywhere. Despite the current situation he was in, Percy couldn't help but smile.

"Got it," Apollo whispered. And with a pop, they were gone. No sooner had they left before a lightning bolt struck the spot they had just been standing on.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in the cabin he and his mother would always rent, Apollo standing next to him. Still not looking comfortable or confident but trying to put up a front.

"Let's get some sleep," Percy suggested. "I get the feeling tomorrow won't be any easier."