AN:
Yeah... I don't really ave anything to say here. Sorry for the short length... not really though. It's still three thousand words.
Percy Jackson slowly stood up, pushing the chair back slightly as he did so. Zoë didn't move, she stood in one place, watching the scene unfold before her. The mortal sitting across from him looked back and forth between the two, an expression of confusion on her face.
"Jack?" She said hesitantly. Jack?
Percy didn't respond. His gaze was still firmly fixed on Zoë, several emotions blurred in the lines of his face. Utter disbelief, confusion, and… hope? He slowly began to inch his way forward, like a man trying to walk with no sense of a floor below him. The rest of the cafe had gone silent.
Percy raised his hand, and pointed a shaking finger at the huntress. "You… you're dead. I-I saw you die!" He stopped, staring at her warily, his eyes were wild, as if expecting an attack at any second.
Zoë took a step forward, Percy shifted his weight to his back leg. She stopped, and shrugged helplessly, not quite sure of what else to do. She shook her head, still smiling a small smile. "Well… I'm here." She spread her arms out slightly. "I'm not dead, Percy."
He stepped forward again, and hesitantly set his arm on her shoulder, still not believing she was really there.
Zoë Nightshade had read many books in her life, many detailing the experience of someone seeing someone alive who they knew for certain was dead. They mostly tended to blow it off after the first sentence. That wasn't how it really worked. It was reality breaking, even in a world of mythology, to see someone you had watched die alive and well before you, when no one was supposed to know where you were.
"You...you're alive." He murmured, softly and she doubted anyone else heard it. "It's really you."
The mortal girl behind him watched the two, her expression was as if she had suddenly understood something she had been wondering the answer to for a long time. But there was something else, when she looked at Zoë, a slight...anger?
Zoë, guiltily, tried not to meet her gaze. She was pretty sure she understood why she felt that way.
Percy took his hand of of her shoulder and slowly lowered it back to his side. He stared at nothing briefly, and she could see, much to her surprise, dozens of thoughts running through his head. Once again showing how different he had become.
Suddenly his gaze hardened and his head whipped back towards her. There was an entirely new expression on his face now, but she didn't have time to see it.
He lunged forward, she tried to step back, expecting him to be attacking. But then she felt a strong pair of arms encircled her as he, much to her and probably his surprise, a quick hug. Then he backed away and walked over to the mortal's table. Pulling his wallet from his side pocket.
He rifled through the money and slapped some down on the table. Then he spoke to the young woman. "Sorry, Kate. This should make up for dragging you down here. I'll talk to you later." Before either Kate or Zoë could protest, he rushed past the huntress and threw open the door to the cafe.
Zoë stood, stunned, where she was a moment, before darting off after him.
She pushed open the door, whipping her head from one side to the other, trying to see where Percy went. Suddenly she felt someone grab her arm, the vice like grip turning her so she was facing the opposite direction. She tried and failed to move, the second person dragging her down the sidewalk. The two turned right and into a small alley. Halfway down she was released, and spun around by her shoulder. Her ashen eyes were met evenly by a pair of sea green. And they were storms of fury.
"What. The hell. Are you doing here?" Percy growled.
Zoë flinched at the tone. She'd been spoken to by far scarier, more frightening people. Or at least she would have sworn she had. The thought of Percy scaring her had never crossed her mind. She was a huntress, with two thousand plus years of experience dealing with all sorts of intimidating and frightening things.
But now? Standing a few feet from a man who she would have been proud to call her friend, she felt fear. She was actually scared of Perseus Jackson. It must have quickly flashed on her face, because Percy's gaze softened a bit, and he removed his crushing hand from her shoulder.
"I was here to find you." She finally said.
"I didn't want to be found," he hissed. "I traveled thousands of miles, not to be found."
"I know, I know," Zoë tried to appease him. "I understand. I heard what happened-" Percy's eyes flashed dangerously "And I am so sorry. But your time abroad is over. You need to come back."
"I need to come back?" Percy echoed. "For what? To be the Olympians lapdog? Lab rat? No, I don't think so, Zoë Nightshade."
"Per-"
"No!. I didn't leave to go on god damn holiday. I left because I was done! I am not going to go back to that life!"
"It's not your call, Perseus," said Zoë, and she slipped in a small white lie. "But It's not mine either. If it was up to me, I'd let you live your life, do what you wanted to do."
"No you wouldn't have." Percy said flatly.
"You need to come back," Zoë continued, bypassing his response. "Everyone wants you back. People miss you, Percy. Your friends, your family." She could tell that struck a chord. "What about Thalia? What about your father? What about your mother?"
Now Percy flinched. He looked towards the ground guiltily. Much of the fire that was in him moments ago burned out, turned to smoldering embers. His shoulders slumped tiredly.
"Please, Percy." She whispered softly. She had never been too close the the demigod, but she had gotten to know him. Through what she learned when they met, from what she saw from the sky, from what she had been told by others. She knew he held all of his friends and family closely. Even people like her, who he hadn't known so long.
"I can't." Percy responded at her volume, looking back up at her. There was still anger there, it hadn't gone, but it had been overwhelmed by guilt and grief. "I just can't, Zoë. You should know what it feels like to just know you can't go back to a previous life. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."
Zoë nodded. The two stood next to each other, hesitantly meeting each others gazes. Both had said words that struck bitter chords with the other. At that moment, the two felt much more like old, old friends, who had known each other for years, then two people who had known each other for only two weeks. But their friendship was anything but solid.
"Please don't make me go back. If you were ever my friend, or ever had any sort of respect for me, ever. Please do not make me go back to that life. I left it behind a long time ago."
Listening to the pain in his words, Zoë wanted to leave and return home. Tell them that she couldn't find him, or that he had fought her off and escaped. But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't.
I'm sorry, Percy Jackson," she whispered, and pulled a small pistol from her pocket. Percy just stared in disbelief as she leveled it towards his chest. It was surprisingly difficult to do. She had to overcome a lot in order to keep her hand up. To point the gun at the man, who through all that she had seen and heard, and despite his more recent flaws, had gained more respect from her than any other.
"My orders were to bring you back under any circumstances. Olympus needs you." She swallowed thickly. "You have to come back. Olympus needs you, Percy."
She prayed to any immortal being that she could think of that Percy wouldn't fight back. She couldn't shoot him, and she was pretty sure that he knew it as well, but she hoped somehow the situation would jar him into a different state of mind. It had worked before with different people.
"I told you, I left that life behind. Whatever problems, they are Olympus' business. I have my own business to deal with." In a blur he swing his arm around and slammed the gun out of Zoe's hand. It flew into the wall of the alley, and at the same time she jumped backwards. Out of his reach.
"Good luck, in whatever you are dealing with, but I'm not doing the Olympian's dirty work anymore." Percy began walking from the alley.
Zoë turned as he walked past and grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. In a flash he spun around and Zoë gasped in pain as his fist slammed into her chest. She was knocked back a few feet before she collapsed on the ground, trying to fill her lungs with air that wouldn't come. Pain erupted from the point of impact.
Percy spared her one glance, an apology for what he did, and then he continued walking, strolling out of the alleyway and out of her line of sight.
She grit her teeth, trying to block out the pain from her lower chest, and squeezed her eyes shut. She cursed under her breath, and slowly stood up, hand pressed to where he had punched her.
She lifted her shirt slightly, and could already see a bruise starting to form. She wasn't dumb enough to try and touch it.
It was impossible for her to leave the situation as it was, despite the fact that Percy had shown to be even more resistant that she had thought. She hadn't expected him to actually lash out. Not physically, anyway. Though she could only mostly blame him, not entirely.
She'd give him space for a day, and then try again. Approaching him, more indirectly. No matter how smart a person was, an indirect approach often was a way to get on their side.
She picked up her pistol from where it had landed, and slid it back into it's hidden holster. Then she walked from the alleyway, back to where she had parked her rental car. She still hadn't checked into her hotel, and it would probably be a good idea to do so. It looked like she'd be here awhile.
Line Break
Six hours later, Percy Jackson downed yet another cup of beer. The strong stuff that George Toolan kept under lock and key in a private back room at all times, in case some asshole decided to jump the bar and grab a bottle.
He slammed the empty cup back on the bar angrily, and it was slid from his grasp by another hand. He let them take it, as he stared blankly ahead.
Gods damn them. He cursed in the privacy of his head. He always knew that the gods would eventually find him, but he'd hoped they'd leave him alone. Or at least, if they contacted him, that they'd send someone he wouldn't feel terrible about punching in the stomach.
Of course he was glad to see Zoë Nightshade alive and well, he just wasn't glad to see her in England. They had reached a sort of friendship just before she had died, and a vicarious bond through their combined use of Anaklusmos. He still respected her, and to some extent she believed she actually had respect for him, but that didn't mean there wasn't a part of him that despised her from being from that world.
"Another cup for your musings, Jack?" Percy blinked and took the glass gratefully. He nodded to Toolan and drained a good half of it in one go.
George looked at him pitifully. "You know, if you were anyone else, I wouldn't dare give them the amount of this shit I'm giving you, but somehow you've consistently managed to not only avoid blabbering your emotions to everyone around you, but severe alcohol poisoning as well," George raised an eyebrow. "At least, that's what happens to most people."
"I wouldn't qualify myself as people," He took another sip, this one much smaller. "Because I'm not people, you hear?"
"Yes I hear, Jack. And you might want to save that a bit, it's the last I'm giving you for awhile."
Percy started to protest, George stopped him by clapping a hand on his shoulder. "For your own good, Jack." The old man smiled and walked down the bar, to serve a man who Perseus thought looked like he tipped how he probably fucked. Quickly, and poorly.
Line Break
Zoë Nightshade sat on the edge of the bed in her room. She had taken another dose of nectar, and had been waiting for its effect to kick in. The pain in her foot had returned from it's holiday, and she was gripping the bedsheets tightly to cope.
Eventually, she let out a long breath as the pain in her leg faded to almost nothing. Gingerly, she put some of her wait on it, and then all of it. When no pain came, she stood up. The room was a single, large, but not overly so. It was a good hotel, just down a side street from the town center. And from the balcony that her room included, she could see the lighting that came from any downtown on a Saturday night.
Her room was on the fourth floor, but since it was built partially on a hill, she could have jumped from the balcony and rolled to safety on the ground to the right of the terrace.
It was good to know, in case she decided to parkour, for some strange reason.
The bed was mostly taken up by her supplies. Her bag of clothes sat at it's head, below it was a small pouch for weapons. Then her boots, and at the very bottom, her medical supplies and some English Pounds. Which had been supplied to her by a contact that had been placed in the hotel. Though the young woman she had spoken to had managed she'd be leaving to return to the U.S. two hours after they had met. Which had been four hours ago.
That meant once again, Zoë Nightshade was alone, thousands of miles from Olympian controlled land.
Though it wasn't the first time. She had at one point spent six months stranded in Syria during one of the revolutions, and it had been the most dangerous point of her entire life. Including any time spent in the ancient world. At least the ancient world didn't try to rob, kill, indoctrinate, evict, and rape you all at the same time.
Usually it was just one or two.
She sat back down on the bed, and strapped on her boots. She had no plans of going out, but they provided a partial brace for her injured foot and lower leg, and the other just went to balance out the height difference caused by only wearing one of the two.
Sitting back, using her hands to hold her up, she realized that she hadn't eaten nearly all day, and at that point her hunger set in. She had heard that the hotel served a dinner, though it wasn't free. And that it, according to the time, was still going on and would be for another forty five minutes.
She pushed herself off the bed, and walked over to her suitcase. She pulled out a shirt, replacing the one she had been wearing the past twenty four hours. The clean fabric was a pleasant change from the sweat covered shirt from before. No one had told her the forecast that day in England, and she made the mistake of not checking, in case it was incredibly high. The long sleeved shirt was a bad call.
Now more comfortably clothed, she took her wallet from the nightstand and slid it into her pocket. She had refused, the day she was alive for the second time, to ever use a purse unless absolutely necessary. They were awkward, and uncomfortable to carry around, at least to her.
Zoë then walked towards the door, sliding open the deadbolt in order to make it possible to open.
Then she froze, on the other side she heard a noise. And it wasn't the sort that you associated with anything that should be found in a hotel anywhere on earth. And if you heard it in a hotel, and didn't know what it was, you weren't going to have a chance to be ignorant for very long.
With a quick outtake of breath, she sprinted back from the door, using the wall to catapult herself behind the bed.
She had barely landed in safety when the door exploded.
AN:
Hopefully all of you waiting to see the confrontation were appeased, though they wont be 'getting it on' as one person told me for awhile now.
Next chapter the villain of this novel will be introduced, and yes, Zoe may run into a lot of trouble. Then, by the chapter after this, the two will be on their way, officially on their adventure. It may not be the fastest paced story you've ever read, but that's because it's not supposed to be. It's supposed to get thievery set up in the beginning so the rest of the story can move without major delay.
Read, Review, Favorite Follow, and I will give you respect. Don't, and I will give you fish, dead fish, in your mailbox, because I know where you live...
Until next time, this is Hemlock Stones signing off