After the blood had subsided and he drew a breath, Alvie realised everyone was staring at him and this sent him into a nerve-wracking, crumbling panic.
He toppled backwards from his chair and scrambled backwards, his back hitting the wall seconds later. Crystal stepped towards him, as did the nurse, Francis and the principal, but he put his bloody hands out and they all froze.
Suddenly, all the students were on their feet as their chairs rattled beneath them and the tables gradually floated upwards. Everything inanimate that had been on the floor or on other objects was no hovering in the air, gently bumping into other things.
It was that moment of silence before the mass hysteria. Alvie wasn't paying attention, pressing his back to the wall and resting his forehead on his knees, his hands over his ears to try and quell the insistent, insanely high-pitched ringing that was splitting his head in two.
The principal started directing students out; shouting over the swell of screams and cries for mommy. This process took nearly ten minutes and it was only the crash of the chairs on the floor that bought them to their senses. The room emptied in seconds, including the nurse.
Francis looked ready to curl into a ball as well, rooted to the spot and pale with shock- a chair had nearly crushed the life from him when it hurtled towards the ground like a projectile and shattered almost as easily as glass.
"Do something!" Crystal exclaimed angrily, glaring at the headmaster. He scowled at her, drawing his cell phone from his pocket. Knowing the Jacksons, he probably had their number on speed dial.
As Mr. Brooks explained the situation, Crystal slapped Francis, jerking him back into reality.
"What-? Why are ze tables flying?"
"I'll explain later. We need to help Alvie." Francis stared at her, hand on his injured cheek. She ignored the question forming on his lips and cautiously edged towards Alvie. He didn't notice her until she put his hand gently on his shoulder. He jolted away, yelling as if she had touched him with a white-hot iron.
"Crystal!" Mr. Brooks protested.
"I was just trying to help…"
"You're part of the problem!" She winced and his expression softened. "Look, what I meant is that he's hurting and it's obviously taking a toll on his powers."
"But-"
"It's not your fault- not entirely, anyway. There's a lot going on that he's not said about." Crystal just nodded, but that wasn't exactly the reassuring comment she was looking for.
Percy arrived, alone. For a brief moment, Crystal thought he was glaring at her, but his eyes darted to Alvie and she wasn't sure. She wouldn't blame him if he had been.
"Alvie? Buddy, it's me." Percy knelt next to Alvie, placing his hands on his shoulders. Alvie mumbled something incomprehensible. "Look up." Percy persuaded softly. It took a short while, but he Alvie did look up at his father.
His eyes were wide, tortured and hollow. Lifeless. He appeared pale and gaunt, the blood on his chin and spattered across his cheeks a stark contrast.
Percy didn't miss a beat. "What's going on?" Alvie just stared at him, agape. "Alvie?" Percy frowned. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." Nothing. Just a blank, eerie gaze.
Eventually, Percy decided on taking Alvie home. Alvie had curled up in a ball again at some point in the last fifteen minutes, rocking. That was the first sign of life in the last hour.
He picked his son up easily in his arms. Crystal staggered, taking a step forward, but stopping herself. Percy had noticed, his eyes hardening slightly. She looked down miserably.
"Sorry." She mumbled. Percy didn't say anything. When she looked up, he was gone.
Even in his shell-shocked state, Francis managed to put a comforting, brotherly arm around her shoulders, but it had no effect.
Percy had put Alvie in his room, nestled under the blankets. He had cleaned the dried blood from his son's face and hands and charmed the water to rinse it from his T-shirt as well. He managed to get some nectar into Alvie before the pre-teen started choking.
"Hey, it's OK. My bad." Percy sat him up, cursing his seaweed-brain-ness.
Alvie settled back against the pillows, rigid and ghostly. He gave the odd twitch or murmur and it took Percy a few seconds to understand why- something in his mind, something horrible. What though? He thought as he tucked the covers around Alvie.
Deciding he needed better brains for this operation, he got up and stepped outside, retrieving his cell phone.
Annabeth answered on the third ring.
"Seaweed Brain?"
"Hi Wise-girl. Um, it's Alvie."
"What?" Annabeth was instantly alert and Percy heard a clatter in the background, as if she had dropped everything through concern for her son.
Percy hurriedly explained, glad the triplets had started nursery so that they wouldn't see the state their brother was in.
Annabeth cursed very colourfully in Ancient Greek. "Alright, I'm on my way. Keep an eye on him."
"I am." Percy assured. Annabeth gave a short farewell and hung up. Percy returned to his son, startled to see the bed empty. "Alvie?"
His panic was short-lived. Alvie was sat in the corner of his room, his arms wrapped around his legs and staring at the wall not three inches from him. He was shaking, rocking a fraction and mumbling to himself in gibberish. He paid no attention to Percy, not even when his father rested a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly in an attempt to focus him.
Annabeth, thankfully, turned up ten minutes later.
"Percy?" She called.
"Up here!" She materialised in the doorway seconds later, her hair fashioned in a messy bun. She was in simple jeans and one of his T-shirts. Being a self-employed architect allowed her to wear what she wanted.
Percy shifted over and Annabeth dropped to her knees, her arms twisting around their son. He didn't notice her either.
"Baby, talk to me." She pleaded quietly, rocking him like she used to when trying to put him to sleep when he was little. Alvie didn't speak, staring blankly at the wall with those fearsome, muted eyes.
They tried everything they could over the next four days. Apollo couldn't do anything- Dionysus cured madness, not him. But it wasn't like Mr. D was feeling generous. Athena and Poseidon tried instead, but they only had minimal effect, if any. Tobias and Max did their best, but even Tobias got frustrated and Percy had to pull him from the room before he throttled Alvie for paying the wall more attention than him. Crystal came over once, but she was blanked like the rest of them. The same thing happened with Francis, Alokia, Elsie, Charlie, Leo, the rest of the Jackson children and the mortal sides of their families.
But that knock on the door ruined all their attempts.
Someone at some point had somehow contacted a psychiatric unit. It had taken these past few days to approve the visit and to track them. Percy refused to let them in at first, but Annabeth pointed out that they might be able to help their son.
Reluctantly, Percy led them up to Alvie's room.
They monitored him for a few hours, one of them taking vital signs and the other making notes on gods knew what. Alvie didn't do anything other than mutter to the wall. They questioned Percy and Annabeth, but there wasn't much they could say without mentioning demigod-related topics and that would have them carted off to the loony bin as well.
"We don't know!" Annabeth snapped. "He just… he just shut down!"
"Ma'am, we are here to help, please don't-" Annabeth's glower silenced him easily. "We may have to take him in for further tests."
"You're not taking my son anywhere." Annabeth growled through gritted teeth, squaring up to the psychiatrist. He visibly quailed and took a nervous step back.
"It's for the best, ma'am." Percy put a hand on his wife's shoulder before she ripped the man's head from his shoulders in one violent, swift and gory moment.
Annabeth struggled for a minute, fuming.
"Fine." She snarled. "But I want updates twice a day and we can visit him whenever we want." Their visitor nodded. "No restraints on him and no tests without our consent."
"I understand, ma'am."
"Make sure you do." She stomped off upstairs and disappeared into Alvie's room.
Psychiatrist my ass.
They put Alvie to sleep for safer and easier transport, with the parents' grudging consent. The father insisted on carrying Alvie to the van and following in his own car.
The doors to the van closed. The 'psychiatrist' knew that his men were putting… extra safety measures in place. Right now, he had to talk to that stubborn father and try to deter him from following.
"Sir, we need to settle him and it won't be easy for him should family members be hovering around."
"Conditions." The father growled, bunching his fists.
"I'm well aware of those, sir, but he won't improve should reminders of home float around him."
"He hasn't noticed us for four days. All he's noticed is that bloody wall."
"Yes, I know, sir. We will contact you in a week at the latest, the required time for him to settle." The father made to protest, but he cut across swiftly and sharply. "It is protocol, sir, nothing more."
"Is there a problem?" Percy looked round as his wife came down the steps and towards them. She had that glower in her eyes that meant trouble and possibly some serious pain.
He had to explain it all again and put his persuasive skills to the test. She was even more stubborn than her husband and those stormy grey eyes were immensely unnerving.
They finally and extremely grudgingly agreed half an hour later.
"But a week. Any longer, I will personally track you down and make you hurt. And daily updates. Don't forget those."
"Yes ma'am." What else was he to say? She could tear him to pieces with those eyes.
He left quite hurriedly after that, hopping into the driver's seat. He glanced in the rear view mirror, satisfied to see his new patient strapped into a chair with a guard either side, secured in a strait jacket and his head lolling on his chest.
Psychiatrist, not really.
Men in white coats- that was more like it.
Oh my gods, I'm dying with laughter! I'm seriously liking this idea!