AN:
I have absolutely no real excuse for such a delay. My hand healed quite awhile ago and since then I've been putting off getting back into this as it is somewhat of a time constraint. But why am I irritating you readers before the chapter? Go! Go! Read on!
He pulled onto his street less than a minute after he had put Zoë in the car. Gliding up against the curb, he threw open the door and rushed into the house. Not bothering to shut the main door behind him.
He grabbed a large suitcase from the main closet by the front door, and set to work on the house. Running into his bathroom, he grabbed a first aid kit. Combination demigod and mortal medicines, he never knew what he could use at any time. Inside one of the compartments,was riptide, sitting in a custom made case for it's pen form.
Next, he grabbed clothes. Not bothering to check anything besides if they were in fact clothes. Throwing in items for at least five or six days, he then grabbed toiletries and rushed from the bedroom.
Then he got to work on the bookshelf. Sliding it away from the wall, he levered up a floorboard, and couched as the dust from underneath rose up to fill his nostrils. He reached down inside and came up with another bag. He shook the dust off before tossing it next to the suitcase. From the bookshelf, he grabbed a couple rare volumes and opened the second bag, throwing them inside. Careful not to crumple up the collection of various paper currencies that were banded up within.
Bags packed he hoisted them up, and started running towards the door, then he stopped. He sighed, and cursed himself, running back inside. In the music room, he took his guitar, packed it in it's thick case and rushed back. All the way violently cursing the way his mind forced him to act.
Each container was thrown in the back, and once fully in, the door slammed shut. He only took one thing from the bag, the ambrosia from the medical kit, which was clenched in his hand. He raced back around and threw open the driver's side door, switched on the ignition, and started off away from the house.
Once he felt like he was far enough away, he slowed the car to a stop. Seat belt already off, he leaned over the center console, and gently pulled Zoë towards him. He heard her breath hitch as even the tiny movement no doubt put strain on her body. Taking the ambrosia, he squeezed it tightly in his hand, and with some satisfaction felt it turn it into a somewhat gooey substance. A trick he had learned over the years, for when the recipient couldn't chew any squares at hand.
He opened her mouth and let the ambrosia drip off his hand. Then he moved his hands to her throat, and with practiced precision, carefully maneuvered his hands along her skin, lightly pressing down.
There was a gulp as she swallowed the liquid. And Percy allowed himself a sigh of relief. Wiping the remaining ambrosia on his pant leg, he put his hands back on the wheel and revved up the engine before speeding off down the road.
He was out of the town within ten minutes. No one else on the road aside from some late night stragglers who either hadn't reached home, or hadn't reached a bar. Perseus ignored them all, maneuvering around cars in front of him, and taking each opportunity he had to launch forward with any extra speed.
His eyes were searching for a specific marker. The world sped past them, only some sections illuminated by the headlights of other cars or his own vehicle, and the shining reflected off the metallic road signs.
He took an exit about half an hour later, pulling off into a small highway town. The sort that was solely in existence because of the highway right next to it, and of little more than a few houses, some fast food restaurants, a gas station, and maybe a cheap little hotel or two.
He looked around for a hotel. It took him a moment, not because he was picky for comfort, but because there was only a certain kind of hotel he could use, and they weren't overly common in England.
Eventually he found what he was looking for, and pulled into the main lot. He parked the car close to the door, took one glance at Zoë to make sure she was still asleep, and then exited the automobile. Straightening up, he adjusted his jacket and stretched his back. Then he shut the door, and walked over the reception office,and stepped in.
The inside smelled faintly of cigarettes, and Percy wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench. The man lounging behind the main desk looked to be the exact sort of person that would be emitting such a smell. It was with great reluctance that Percy walked towards him.
Percy arrived at the desk, resting his hands underneath the overhang on his side, and leaning forward a few degrees.
The man looked up from his tablet, and settled his eyes shakily on Percy. Once they met his figure, they widened and the man shot up out of his seat. Percy resisted the urge to look down at himself, he probably looked like hammered shit.
The man stammered a bit before regaining his lack of composure. "Um… can I help you… uh… sir?" The questioning tone at the end of his sentence would have caused Percy to laugh if he wasn't in somewhat of a mood.
"Yeah. A room. What do you have got?" Said Percy impatiently, his tone making it very clear that he was in no mood to dick around.
"Um, number 10 is-"
"I'll take it." Percy cut him off, extracting a fistful of cash from his pocket. He slammed it down on the counter and leaned down over it, a hand outstretched for the key.
It was dropped into his palm with commendable speed. The young man stood across from him and gulped. His Adam's apple bobbed in the process. His skin already shone with sweat, and his expression was one of considerable nervousness.
In his mind, Percy chuckled. Von Lipwig had really taught him well. He nodded meaningfully to the man at the desk and walked out of the room, careful to keep a slow pace.
As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run, darting back over to his car and climbing in. He revved the engine and maneuvered the vehicle across the lot, sliding it into an open space directly in front of room ten.
He took Zoë inside first, gently laying her out on the bed, and resting her head at a low angle on the pillow. Then he returned to his car and brought in his supplies. Guitar case was flung into a far corner, as we the clothing bags and supply kit. His first aid kit dropped down on the the bed. He unclipped the latch and flung it over, his fingers nimbly snatching this and that from inside.
The morphine was first. He had managed to obtain a spare supply over the years from a variety of less than reputable sources, but he knew for a fact that the stuff worked wonders. He gave Zoë a small dose, but not too large, he had no idea what her level of tolerance of the stuff could be.
He then set to work. Using a special pair of scissors to remove certain parts of her jeans and shirt to avoid aggravating the wounds. Gauze, medical tape, and cloth were all at his disposal. He wiped up as much of the blood as he could, zeroing in on where the actual injuries were. One done, he proceeded to take care of the external damages. There wasn't too much. Scrapes and bruises that looked like they came from a fall, some more sever cuts made by the creature's claws, and some nasty looking puncture wounds. Each was taken care of. Blocked off and sealed shut to the best of his abilities. He finished off by wrapping a long piece of cloth around a cut that ran down her arm, and fixed it in place so it wouldn't slip off.
He sat down tiredly next to her. She looked considerably better, but Percy knew more than to judge the outside. He had heard her breathing, and the way she had been blinking before she had lost consciousness was not an encouraging factor. At that wasn't to take into account that despite the ambrosia he had given her earlier, she had been shivering and moaning in pain for most of the drive to the hotel. There was significant internal damage, and he couldn't heal that with basic field medic education.
He left her sleeping peacefully and rushed into the bathroom. He spent a minute looking in the cupboards before he cursed. No bucket, no large bowls, nothing. He brought his hand up to his head and closed his head tightly, massaging his temples. He'd have to wait to heal her further.
There was a sound from the main room, and he jumped out from the bath. Zoë was moving slowly, not awake, but not asleep for long. He started to make his way over to her, then stopped. He looked towards one of his cases against the wall. He stopped and thought for a moment, then he turned back to the huntress. He made his decision, and walked over to the bags.
To Zoë, everything hurt. Actually that was quite not true. It was a strange feeling. She felt cool, a light breeze blowing over her body. A soothing experience after a rough day. Then her nerves fired up and then came the pain. It felt as if someone had poured molten steel in her mouth and now it sat in a pool along the entirety of her torso. Her head ached, and her legs felt numb. Only a slight movement of her right was enough to tell her that they were alright and functioning.
Actually no, if they were alright, she wouldn't be in this situation.
She frowned,. Something was off about her legs. They felt… different, as in one of them felt different than the other. She forced her eyes open, a dull room bathed in a faint darkness greeted her. She looked down. Her jeans only had one leg. The other cut off raggedly just below her thigh. Her first was covered in a bandage that wrapped from her ankle to her knee. In several case, it has doubled with a second bandage strapped on top.
"I had to remove the leg in order to get to a wound. Sorry," contrary to it's words, the voice who spoke didn't sound all that sorry.
Slowly she moved her neck, despite its protests, and looked at the source. The speaker sat in a chair a few feet away. He was covered in darkness; she couldn't see him. Despite this, she knew who it was.
"Percy." She tried weakly, then coughed. He didn't move. Presumably he was just watching her. Then he leaned to the side, reaching out and grabbing a glass of water from the table to his right.
He leaned forward into the light and she could see his face. His features betrayed no emotion. His head stopped a foot away from hers. The two stared at each other, neither saying a word. Then, with great deliberation, Percy reached over and set the glass down on the bedside table. His eyes didn't move.
Unable to move her head further, Zoë looked at the glass. Trying her arm, she found it barely worked. It was in no shape to pick up a glass. Percy watched her struggle, his eyes fixed blankly on her.
Finally she stopped, her eyes returned to his. She glared at him, "Don't be a fucking jerk."
A smile flashed across his lips and then it was gone. He took the cup from the table and held it up under her mouth. With a bit of maneuvering an angle was found where she could take intermittent sips successfully. The cool water was a blessing on her throat, and the sharp pain that plagued it slowly receded.
She watched him as he stood to refill the glass. He moved silently, both verbally and physically. It was as if he was a ghost hovering over the ground.
He returned with another glass, setting it on the table before turning to look back at her.
"That help?" He asked.
Zoë nodded, though sluggishly. Her neck felt stiff, like someone had coated it with
plaster. Every movement felt struggled.
Percy seemed to notice. He reached out and put his hand on her collar bone. Two fingers pressing gently into the side of her neck. She winced.
He pulled away. "I've done the best I can, but you aren't in good shape. You'll need a real doctor. Someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing."
She nodded, then frowned. "Can't you-" she cleared her throat. "Can't you use water to heal others?"
Percy smiled slightly and stared at her a moment. Zoë shifted under the gaze.
Suddenly he spoke. "I know a woman. Good doc, clear sighted mortal. She can be trusted," Percy leaned back in the chair, stretching his arms. "Unfortunately, she's in east London. Did Olympus give you anyo contacts here?"
Zoë shook her head. "No. I'm on my own."
The demigod muttered something under his breath. "I'll take you to her. Thanks to those bastards I have to relocate anyway. He'll patch you up and I can get you a plane back to the states."
Zoë frowned, then winced as a sharp jab echoed from her cheek. "On my own? Percy, please. We need yo-."
She stopped as his face hardened. The deadpan expression back in the blink of an eye. He stood up and walked away from her. Her gaze followed him helplessly. He bend down beside the bed and pulled something from a bag. He then turned and started back towards her side. The light from the other room glinted off the object ominously. It was a gun.
Her breath caught as he stalked straight towards her. His expression revealed nothing, but she could see his hands whitening due to his grip on the weapon. He stopped by her side, she looked down at the gun. Then she looked back up. Though his face didn't change, she knew her expression was plain.
She could see her fear reflected in his eyes.
She saw nothing but turmoil in his. But she could still make out one thing very clearly.
He reached under the blanket and took her hand, pressing the gun into her palm firmly.
"I'll be back later," he muttered, throwing on his coat and stalking out the door.
Zoë's protests were met with no response as the door shut behind him. She sighed. Using her good arm she lifted herself into a sitting position. Through the window she watched as he jumped into his car and sped off.
For a moment she worried that he would not return. Then the fear was brushed aside. He had left most of his stuff in the room. And she still had enough faith in his character that she could at least hope he wouldn't just abandon her.
Not while she was still wounded anyway.
The lights from the freeway glinted through the windows as she eased herself back down. Percy's eyes were still ingrained in the forefront of her mind. She had made a mistake. By the way he was acting, she had allowed herself to act stupid.
Cursing quietly, she curled up slightly under the blankets. She shivered as the eyes appeared back in her mind.
They were so dead, and full of so much anger, and so much pain.
Her eyes slid shut as she tried to force herself to drift off. The freeway rumbled from behind her and lights flashed through the windows as she lay there.
Alone.
AN:
Somewhat of a filler chapter to get me back on track I do apologize. Also it is, in fact, quite short. The next should be longer. In the following chapter you shall meet one of the next stars of the cast, and be thrilled as the relationship between them and one of our current heroes is...complicated.
Thanks to you all for being so patient, and for understanding about my injury. I hope to get back to fairly regular updating, but in a tactical error I loaded up on advanced placement and honors classes this year and they are kicking my ass time wise. So expect irregular updating. Next I plan to update Son of the King and introduce a fairly long term character there as well. Her respect and Boys are Back in Town shall resume following. I've unfortunately thought about adopting The Picture as I really didn't know where I was going with it. But I shall further that idea another time.
I would like to give a special shoutout to Plutosdaughter11 for taking the time to visit this miserable attempt at fiction and leaving a positively uplifting review. You know that feeling when someone cool like Tommy Emmanuel responds to an internet post or something like that. It's kind of a similar situation, except I doubt Pluto11 is a sixty year old man.
Please read, rate, review, favorite, and follow if you enjoyed it. And if you didn't, go watch the entire series of Keeping Up With the Kardashians with your eyes glued open because that is a hell only reality television can dare to dream up.
Until next time this is Hemlock Stones signing off.