Hi again! Didn't edit this one overmuch, but I wanted to get it up since it's been over a week now. Thanks as always for the reviews! Enjoy!

The war is won before it's begun / Release the doves, surrender love

Percy wasn't happy.

Understatement of the year, of course—on the way home from Los Angeles, he experienced just about every emotion other than happiness. He was relieved that Atlas had been defeated, but nervous for what would be coming next. Losing Travis Stoll—one of his best friends since high school—had him equal parts angry and grief-stricken, with a side of bitter and a dash of disgusted. The lump of regret in his throat was so thick he spent half of each minute holding his breath. It was like failing to save Nico all over again. Or Beckendorf, or Silena. He knew full well that war begot loss—begot death and pain. Everyone knew that. But that didn't stop the shock when it was his pain, his friend's death. No logic or prior understanding could lessen a blow such as that.

Percy didn't speak much until Annabeth came to sit next to him on the jet a few minutes into their flight back to New York. Wordlessly she offered him a sad smile and wound both her arms carefully around his injured right one, resting her head against his shoulder. He assumed she was picking up on his silent stoicism and he appreciated her thoughtfulness, but after the night they'd had she deserved a chance to talk if she wanted to. She'd been through a lot with Atlas that evening, and he didn't want her staying quiet for his benefit.

"How's it feel?" he asked her, gently taking her hand. He knew further explanation wouldn't be necessary.

"…Empty," she replied after a pause. "I think… I've been against him for so long now that I expected to feel some sort of… triumph or something. Like beating him would bring a kind of fulfillment. But… it didn't. In the end, he was… just another kill."

Percy leaned his head against Annabeth's, frowning at the back of the seat in front of them. "Maybe that's a good thing," he suggested. "Maybe it means you're… moving on. Letting your old life—your old ties—go."

"Maybe." She hunched her shoulders. "Or maybe it means there's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"I feel sick, thinking about it," she persisted. "Nauseous. Like all the pain I should feel in my heart is twisting around in my stomach instead."

"Maybe you're just airsick."

Annabeth sat up and shot him a dry, pointed look. He returned an amused half-smile, glad to see the familiar expression on her face.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he repeated more sincerely, reaching up to brush a tangled strand of hair from her forehead and letting his fingers trail the side of her face. "You're trying to feel too much, that's all. Trust me, I've been there. There's nothing wrong with staying strong at a time when everybody else is going crazy. One of us might as well be level-headed here."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, and that has to be me?"

"Usually is."

Finally she cracked a smile, though there was sadness in her eyes. When she spoke again after a breath, her voice was lower and devoid of tension. "I'm sorry," she admitted, shaking her head and changing the subject. "I know it wasn't my fault, but… I just wish there was something I could've done."

The smile faded from Percy's face and he took a steady breath that seemed to squeeze at his heart. "So do I."

The rest of the flight was a relatively quiet affair. Together with Piper, they discussed their immediate post-landing plans and made arrangements to have an Olympus-owned ambulance meet them at the landing site for easy transport back to headquarters. After calling Jason and Thalia to recount the events of the evening (each had requested immediate updates after the fact), Percy decided he'd hold a meeting in the morning with whichever division heads were available on short notice to go over what had happened and what they intended to do next. Fortunately, the in-flight downtime and distractions allowed Percy an opportunity to bury his torrent of negative emotions beneath the surface of his mind. Unfortunately, it didn't exactly last long—it was all dug up again when the first person they saw upon returning to the Marten complex well past midnight Eastern Time was Harrison Stoll.

"Good, you're back," codename Hermes said to them as he exited the leasing office on the first floor to see the small group entering through the main entrance. His expression was grave, as though he knew bad news was forthcoming. "Percy, there's something I need—" He broke off the instant his eyes traveled through the glass doors to where Connor and their driver were wheeling the gurney bearing Travis's body out of their unorthodox ride by the sidewalk.

"Is that…?" he asked vaguely. "That's not…"

Percy opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. So he stayed silent as Connor pushed the gurney inside with dead eyes and Harrison approached his sons in stunned disbelief, clutching Connor by the shoulder and brushing Travis's hair with his fingers as though expecting it to wake him.

"How did this happen?" Harrison demanded, voice tight.

When Percy still didn't respond, Annabeth answered, "It was Atlas."

Harrison's dark blue eyes turned on her critically. "Atlas," he repeated with a growl. "I hope you killed him."

Annabeth met his gaze with just as much firmness. "We did."

Harrison nodded with satisfaction, turning back to his sons. "I never thought… No parent ever does…"

"Let's get him upstairs for now," Connor suggested sullenly. His father, still lost in the surprise and grief of it all, didn't argue.

"We should… get some rest," Piper suggested to Percy and Annabeth as the Stolls headed for the elevators. "I think we need it."

Percy was about to agree wholeheartedly when Harrison suddenly called back to him, "Oh, Percy, I was about to tell you—it's your dad. He's awake."

Percy's heart skipped a beat. "Awake? How is he?"

"I don't know." The emotion in Harrison's clouded eyes was unreadable. "But he asked to see you as soon as you returned. Something important. I'd get down there."

When the Stolls disappeared, Annabeth turned to Percy and gently touched his arm. "Want me to go with you?"

"No, I got it," he said, shaking his head. "Go on upstairs, I'll meet you there in a bit."

Annabeth nodded. "I'll wait in the downstairs lounge," she decided instead.

Percy grinned. "Of course you will."

As he headed to his father's hospital room, Percy felt a bizarre and uncomfortable mixture of excitement and dread. He wanted to be relieved that Parker was awake, but the way Harrison had sounded when delivering the message… Sure, he'd just received some terrible news of his own and was affected by it. But something about the situation didn't seem quite right. He hoped against all odds that his paranoid side was simply jumping to conclusions.

No such luck. When he reached the room he let himself in to find Paul Archer leaning over Parker's bed, checking his vitals, and the first thing he noticed was that his father looked no better than he had the last time Percy had visited. Parker's eyes were open as he lay on his back, propped up at an angle by a stack of white pillows, but his skin was unnaturally pale and his face was gaunt—corpse-like. He was no longer hooked up to any medical equipment.

"Percy," codename Apollo muttered, looking up at the disturbance. He wasn't wearing the doctor's coat he typically donned on this level of the building, indicating something of an impromptu examination.

Parker's head turned toward the door and for the first time in weeks he locked eyes with his son, who felt a distinct wave of cold as it happened. "Is he…?" Percy started to ask Paul, unable to finish the question.

Paul set the instruments he'd been holding down on the table beside Parker's bed and started across the room. He came to a halt beside Percy and set a hand on his shoulder.

Percy fought to keep from flinching. It felt too much like a condolence.

"He doesn't have much time," Paul informed him, voice just above a whisper as he confirmed exactly what Percy had begun to fear. "…I'll leave you alone."

As Paul left the room, Percy stared at the floor, trying to make it sink in that now, after weeks of uncertainty, his father really was dying. This could be—probably would be—the last time they spoke to each other.

"Percy."

Percy blinked and looked up, forcing out, "Dad…"

Parker gave a tired smile. "I'm glad you're here. Should I ask where you've been?"

Something inside Percy hesitated; it still felt wrong to see his father this way. Every memory he had of Parker Grace was of strength and power. To see him now, so weak and close to death… It wasn't right. But like he'd said to Annabeth earlier that night, in every situation someone had to be strong. Someone had to hold himself up. Apparently now it was his turn.

"L.A.," Percy answered, letting some solidity back into his voice. "Fighting Atlas."

Parker's dark eyebrows jumped. "And?"

"He's not a problem anymore."

Codename Poseidon chuckled, shaking his head. "You're doing well," he noted. Sadness glassing his eyes, he added, "I'm sorry for putting so much on you."

Percy flinched. "No, I…" The last thing he wanted to do was make his dad feel guilty at a time like this—especially for something he'd had no control over. Walking closer and pulling up a chair beside Parker's bed, he argued, "It's nothing, really, I can—"

"Listen," Parker cut him off firmly, brow creasing. "Before your return, I… spoke with Grover."

Percy frowned. "About what?"

"About you. You've had it rough, haven't you?"

With a short sigh, Percy admitted, "It's been… harder than I thought, taking over. But I can handle it, really. Guess I just needed breaking in."

"Oh, I have no doubt you can handle it," Parker assured him. "No, not just 'handle'—you can excel at leading the family. But just because you can… doesn't mean you should."

"What? You don't think I…?" Percy glanced sideways, avoiding the look of concern in his father's heavy-lidded eyes. He had the sudden urge to explain himself, to make Parker see that he wasn't some sort of disappointment. "Look, I know things have been crazy lately, and… and we've lost a lot of people, but… but it's not just because of me, I mean, the agency—"

"No," Parker interrupted him again, coughing weakly. "That isn't what I meant. I firmly believe you're good for Zeke's position—I never would've recommended you for the job if I didn't. What I'm saying is… perhaps it's the job that isn't good for you." Alarmed, Percy looked up to see what looked like calm understanding in his dad's eyes. "Think about it—is this really the life you saw for yourself? Are you really doing what you promised all those years ago?"

With a pang of guilt Percy thought back on his life—on the vow he'd made long ago to protect the people he cared about. In the past few months alone he'd lost too many of those people, and all he'd done in his crusade to bring Olympus together suddenly felt supremely inadequate.

"No," he realized. "All that time on the phone or behind a desk—I don't feel right unless I'm out there, fighting for the things that matter to me. Maybe that's why I've been so messed up lately."

Parker smiled. "I understand. I was always the same way—feeling useless and incapable if I wasn't doing all I thought I could. I've lost some of that over the years in my age, but… on some level, it's still there. Why do you think I was there the night Kronos attacked? Risk or no risk, I had to do something, just like you feel you do. And though I wish that particular encounter had ended differently…" Sounding breathless, he waved a hand vaguely in indication of his current predicament, a direct result of said encounter. "I couldn't ever regret a decision I made to help, to be involved. That's exactly why the east coast has been under my oversight for so long. It's the hub of our trade operations, as you well know."

The increasingly-familiar tightness in Percy's throat intensified. "Yeah."

"The point I'm trying to make is… that the organization needs leaders like Harley, like the old Zeke. Business masterminds. But it also needs leaders like you and me—leaders in the field. Business is only half of what we do. Tactical skill is just as important—and that's something you have more of than my brothers ever did. I don't want you to throw that away for fear of disappointing anyone. I want you to do what makes you feel right."

Percy couldn't bring himself to return his father's encouraging smile. "Maybe central head is wrong for me," he conceded, leaning forward to rest his arms on the edge of the hospital bed. "But… Does it matter? I can't just pass this off to someone else. There's not even anyone to pass it off to."

"We're a family, Percy," Parker responded calmly, patting a hand on his son's un-bandaged forearm. "There's always someone."

This time Percy didn't respond. He'd realized by now that the central head position didn't exactly agree with his personality and skill set, but his devotion to the family had so far kept him from so much as considering stepping down. But what if his father was right—what if there was someone better suited out there? Was it possible that he could make himself more comfortable while also doing what was right for the organization?

"…One more thing," Parker went on, interrupting Percy's train of thought. "The night Kronos ambushed us, he spoke to me." His brow creased in consternation. "He talked about you."

Percy suppressed a swell of frustration at the new topic. "Me."

"Yes. There's no doubt he hates us all, but what he wants most is you." Parker grimaced. Speaking so much must have been causing him discomfort, but despite that he still seemed determined to get the words out. "He tried to make you his years ago. And instead of joining him, you joined his greatest enemy. You stole his best assassin. And now, you've taken out his right hand. He wants you dead—and he's so personally involved, I'm certain he'll want to kill you himself."

Percy ground his teeth; seeing his father in pain only made his own dislike for Victor Kronos grow more intense. "If you're telling me to watch my back, don't," he said—with a bit more harshness than he'd meant to. "I hope he does come after me. That way I get my own shot—a chance to stop him from killing people I love. To end this… before anyone else gets hurt."

To his slight surprise, Parker's expression relaxed into a small smile. "I was hoping you'd say that. No, I won't tell you to be careful. It's not a leader's job to be careful. I only wanted to make sure you see the opportunity here." His clouded, sea-green eyes swept over his son with increased fondness—a look Percy couldn't ever remember seeing before on that face. "…It looks like I needn't have worried," he went on in a quiet voice. "I always knew you'd grow up to be a good leader… a good man. But now, really seeing it… I'm prouder than I thought I'd be."

Percy cringed to hide the pain in his chest. "Dad, really?" he scoffed with a touch of humor. "Now you're gonna get all mushy on me?"

Parker chuckled airily. "Let me have it, just this once. And let me give you… one last bit of advice. From father to son."

Percy swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing thicker by the word. "What is it?"

Parker closed his eyes momentarily and replied, "Be… what I couldn't."

"What?"

"I tried to be… a father, to the organization." His voice was softer now , weaker. Each breath seemed to come shorter than the last. "A guide. And in the end, it wasn't enough to stop this war. Or to win it. What the family needs now is... a brother—a friend. Someone to grip their hand and fight alongside them. I couldn't give them that. You can."

Percy wanted to argue—had to argue. "You say that like you weren't good enough," he protested, "like everything you did for the organization meant nothing. That's not true."

"Maybe not. But things are different now, you know that. You've seen it. What was good enough then isn't good enough anymore. Now... the family needs better. They need someone like you." He shook his head just barely. "Otherwise this war will destroy them."

Percy lowered his gaze, glaring at his hands. "That's a lot to ask," he muttered, feeling a little like a child for saying it—regardless of how true it was.

"It would be," Parker agreed, "if it were anyone else. But for you… All I'm asking is for you to be who you are." Percy looked up to see his dad watching him through half-lidded eyes, a gentle smile on his pale, tired face. "Trust your head," he said, "and your heart. It'll come more naturally than you think."

Reflexively Percy nodded. Suddenly he didn't need to think about it anymore. "Alright. I'll…" A determined expression formed itself on his face as he vowed, "I won't let you down."

"If there's one thing left I know to be true…" Parker whispered confidently, "that's it."

Still leading up to the big finale during this chapter and the next (which is also basically finished, so it'll be up next week). Then things get fun again :D

Review? Thanks, all! Later days!

-oMM