SUMMARY: Percy Jackson has a crush: on the bright moon that keeps him company during his night shifts, while he works at a common bar. However, falling in love with a trigger-happy moon goddess doesn't exactly fill the "crush" department. In which Artemis is both amused and horrified at the love-stricken bar boy, Percy likes the sound of trouble, and Aphrodite laughs from above. Pertemis

The façade slipped. The blankness in her expression faded away, replaced with something more guarded and hateful. Her silver eyes were impenetrable, though covered in shadows and something suspiciously like loathing.

Percy looked at her with a defiant glare, unable to suppress the curiosity bubbling in his eyes—she had done every anomalous thing he knew of: Hate him, while simultaneously expressing an interest in him. Tell him he was a stalker, when she was the one watching his every move. Act like he was insignificant and worthless, while bringing him to a pleasant restaurant.

It didn't make sense...for her to so cruelly dangle Olympus in his face, without actually letting him experience it for himself. What was the point of knowledge if there was no way for him to use it? What was the point of magic if he'd forever live this desultory life? There had to be a greater underlying purpose in his meeting with Artemis.

Artemis was a paradox, and Percy wanted to understand. He wanted to unravel her, strip her of every false pretense and enigmatic lie, so he could devour the truth within.

He needed it to make sense...but nothing about it did, and it was just infinitely frustrating for Percy.

Couldn't she understand that?

No, she's an unempathetic brat of a goddess, who couldn't care less about you, he thought to himself sternly.

Artemis, for a moment, pursed her lips. She calmly folded her hands together at the table, and she did not meet his eyes, looking away at the dazzling chandelier with a languid, tranquil expression. She no longer looked like a creepy stalker, or a cruel goddess, or a poisonous thorn in Percy's side; she looked normal. A girl, an incredibly beautiful one, to be fair, but nonetheless human—with the potential for human emotions. It was another lie, a veneer crafted out of a false fragility.

After all, there was nothing human about her.

"You're not sure why I've brought you here." There was no question in her tone, just a resolve that could topple buildings and command human wills. Artemis smiled icily. "Perhaps you've come up with your own theories. Of my great fascination with you, the specialness that you so inherently possess..."

Percy knew she was goading him. He tensed.

"—there's nothing special about you, Percy Jackson."

And her smile was gone. Artemis's eyes were dark, numb, and vacantly impassive.

The apathy in her expression was almost more painful than her fraudulent smiles, or her condescending smirks. At least then he could hate her as a liar or a snake. The deceit-filled neutrality in her tone and expression made it difficult for Percy to hate her, and that upset him. He needed someone to direct his anger to, a scapegoat that he could blame for his mortal problems, someone to point his finger at like he was some child. Guilt, shame, and still a bit of that stubborn fury clung to his heart, and he sucked in a bitter breath.

The calm, cool air at the restaurant felt almost oppressive; Percy felt like he couldn't breathe...that pure ice was being inhaled by his body, hurting his insides. He took another breath, and it felt like his lungs were freezing over.

Perhaps he knew that there was no chance of him being "special." Everyone wanted to be special. They wanted to believe that there was some reason for their existence, some reason that they were different from the rest. Percy mimicked that...he was more human than he'd anticipated. All he wanted at this moment was for Artemis to assure him of his innermost thoughts, telling him he was going to go to Olympus and fix his mom and become immortal and find love and be happy. But she hadn't. And now reality was sinking its teeth into his skull.

Percy shivered, despite himself. He didn't want this opportunity to go to waste, like sand between his fingers, but somehow, he knew Artemis would never help him. She was not the kind of goddess to come waltzing out of Olympus to help some nameless mortal man, that Percy was certain of.

So he forced his doubt back, clinging onto his hopeful plan. "I didn't say I was special," he snapped. "I said that you're talking to me. But you don't have to be. You could leave at any moment. Nothing's forcing you to stay. So that leads me to this conclusion: There's a reason you're here. A good reason."

He saw something flash, unbidden, in Artemis's gaze. She sat straighter in the chair, and her posture looked incredibly uncomfortable. Like she didn't know where to put her limbs. Percy, for the life of him, couldn't tell if this was another lie, another way for her to confuse and mislead him, or just Artemis's genuine reactions. With her, it was difficult to tell.

"On the contrary," she said quietly, "you're wrong."

Percy opened his mouth to disagree.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Percy Jackson," Artemis continued in a calm manner. "I value fairness and truth, above all else. I hate you—more than I can possibly put into words. And the worst part about it is that I can't place why I hate you. Hate isn't always a rational emotion."

He felt himself sneer. "Funny. I feel the same way—"

"I'm not making fun of you," she snapped, and Percy felt a bout of satisfaction when her calmness cracked. He knew he shouldn't have—angry goddesses were more likely to turn him into woodland creatures, but angry goddesses were also more likely to make him feel. And that was all he needed at the moment. Lighter, though still with the same perturbance, Artemis looked at him directly in the eye. "I wasn't lying about the rest. You are not special, Percy Jackson. You are insignificant. You were born ordinary, and you will die ordinary, and that is all there is to it."

A void opened up in Percy, swallowing up anything he could say to that.

Artemis continued emotionlessly, her silver eyes dull, "Perhaps the hate of a goddess makes you feel special. Perhaps you think that my attention is a good omen, that I'll somehow help you. I'll tell you this clearly and altruistically: put your silly delusions to rest—"

"Is that all you wanted to say?" Percy said roughly, flicking his eyes away. He played with the doilies on the table, curling his fingers through the pale, pretty patterns on the lace, clawing it almost. Anger rose in him, in great, sweeping waves. He didn't know how to feel—if he should feel. "That I'm weak and useless and that there's nothing special about me?"

Artemis's gaze flickered for an instance. Percy let out a bitter chuckle at that. It turned out the goddess did have a conscience, after all.

"Then tell me why. For a goddess who preaches honesty, you still haven't answered the question. If I'm so weak, poor, pathetic, insignificant, ordinary...why are you here? What does that say about you?" He felt a smile grow on his lips, in an uncharacteristic display of cruelty. He laughed harshly and spat, "You're just as pathetic as I am."

Artemis flared her nostrils, and the anger Percy felt from her was glorious. He had wanted to talk to her, properly and normally, nice, simple, impersonal questions about her interest in him. About the prospect of using some godly magic to reinvent his shitty life. Sitting on that cold pavement, hands over his eyes, feeling loneliness worm its way into his heart, he'd wanted something familiar. He'd wanted to approach matters kindly. She'd forced his hand.

Artemis seethed for a few moments, her searing eyes two silvery pools of rage and annoyance. It was utterly exhilarating. He didn't think he'd felt more euphoric in his life, and he neatly crossed his arms and leaned back on the chair with an arrogance he wasn't used to feeling.

To him, it was brilliant.

She clearly didn't think so.

Percy was starting to see a pattern with them.

Artemis snapped, "Are you always so unpleasant, Percy Jackson?"

"Smiling is part of my bar job," Percy told her idly, ignoring the anger in her glare. "I don't just do it for free. If you want me to smile and flutter my lashes at you, you're going to have to pay me."

"With what?" she asked mockingly. "I know mortal men like you well enough, Jackson. The barest amount of decency is just too much for you. Everything needs to be bought—with a check, in your case—doesn't it?"

"Decency, my ass! Don't tell me you've come down from the sky to lecture me about decency! You don't know me. You don't know the first thing about me."

"I know everything about you," Artemis said.

You don't have a clue. You don't know anything.

Before Percy could spit out his opinions, Artemis smoothly repeated, in a calmer tone: "I know everything about you." She couldn't even meet his eyes at that point. "All of it, and it's disgusting."

Percy's lips twitched. He brushed back his anger, and he forced himself to be steely and composed. It was difficult—a million messy emotions were whirling through his head, most of them consisting of flashing Artemis the bird and storming out. But Percy was far too stubborn for his own good; he wanted another addicting burst of euphoria. He wanted to win, and god, wasn't that just such a human emotion? It spelled out weakness, but it didn't matter—Percy Jackson was so sick of losing and depression and nothingness. He wanted to feel again.

"What part is disgusting? Me or you?"

Artemis stared. Percy could practically taste her thoughts. Are you an idiot? the pursed line of her mouth seemed to ask him. The darkening of her silver eyes was a warning, telling him not to overstep the boundaries between them.

"You," she said after a long intermittent silence, impassivity carved into her already-placid expression. "There's not much to know, but I do know it all. Your entire existence can be brought down to one word, for the sake of brevity: pathetic. All you do, Percy Jackson, is lie..." Her mouth curled unpleasantly. "What a half-baked existence to live."

Percy knew he shouldn't allow himself to dwell. If he thought about the words too much, they would sink their teeth into his skull, forcing him to come to terms with things he didn't want to come to terms with. His stupid sense of pride would go up in flames. He told himself not to, but Percy had never been much of a stickler for rules (unless they pertained to being fired, or losing his means of income, of course).

All you do, Percy Jackson, is lie...

It wasn't true. Unless "lie" was a fancy way of saying "work retail," none of what Artemis said made any sense.

Unless...

Did he lie?

He didn't lie, did he? Percy tried to examine his personality, tried to categorize himself with meaningful qualities, but he just pulled a blank. He recalled memories of himself in high-school—it didn't matter what he was doing or saying or representing, but Percy always stayed truthful to himself. He never masked the inner workings in his head—always with a stupidly blurted-out objection. Never sweetened himself, just so he could appease some nasty teacher or bully of a classmate. Percy Jackson wasn't, by any means, the pinnacle of goodness, but he did tell the truth. There was a sort of earnest honesty he possessed, along with his unintentional troublemaking habits, that Annabeth used to call "endearing."

Look at him now.

All he did was bite his tongue and smile.

Percy sucked in a thin breath. It was the way the world worked. Percy did not have the luxury of enjoying his life or being truthful to himself in the things he did. He didn't even live, at this point; all he did was work to keep food on the table and himself out of a homeless shelter. Who cared who he was? What he thought about, dreamed about? He was, as Artemis had so eloquently put it, insignificant.

And what did insignificant things do? They waited around to die.

Shit. Why did that hurt so much? Percy was no stranger to his mortality. He didn't believe in higher purposes. He was resigned to his fate of death, somewhere down the line. He was all right with it.

So why did it fucking hurt?

Percy sat up straighter, trying to clear his mind. He could feel Artemis's sense of victory, thick and choking, and although his eyes were closed, he knew she was smiling. Probably another one of her half-smirks, tilted and cruel. He tried to summon something to say, but he was blanking.

Then he thought about who they were. Who she was. Who he was. And he was putting the pieces together, and even though the jigsaw of Artemis's true emotions was still a mystery to him, he felt the pieces slowly coming together. He wondered if all that time mourning on a sidewalk had rotted his brain, at the crazily stupid conclusion he'd come to...

Finally, he came to the brilliant observation that Artemis—to be frankly put—was a fucking idiot.

His throat cleared, and the words came to him after that.

He took a breath of relief, his eyes opening and staring at Artemis unblinkingly. "I'm a human," Percy said assuredly, like that was somehow the answer to everything.

Artemis raised a brow. "I can tell," she said, and there was a note of distaste in her tone, something that was meant to be cruel but somehow fizzled out in confusion. "Your humanity isn't exactly discreet."

"I'm a human," he repeated, and he breathed thickly. "And you're a goddess."

"Well-noted," she bit out sarcastically.

"Which completely discredits everything you've said earlier."

Percy didn't know what to expect from Artemis's reaction, but certainly not this. Instead of indifference, or maybe more of that potent anger he'd felt before, her lips only curled—a little distasteful, a little amused. The amusement felt more condescending than pleasant though, like she was witnessing some hilarious little clown act. Like he was some village idiot who'd started doing a silly dance.

"Oh, really?" she said softly, almost a whisper.

"I'm a human. I'm going to die one day," he finally said, hoping his voice would come out stronger. It sounded a bit faint, like he was stuck in some stupid daze impossible to break out of. "But at least my 'half-baked life' has an end-date. It has meaning. Maybe I haven't found it yet, but I'm going to. But you—you and your stupidly long godly life will continue forever, and you will never find your purpose because it will never end."

Artemis stared.

Percy blurted, "You're jealous of my humanity."

He couldn't even look at her, not because he thought he was wrong, but because he was scared of her reaction.

Slowly, he brought his gaze to her, looking away from the glamor of the restaurant back to Artemis's beautifully brutal eyes. Those eyes made him feel like prey, like she could eat him raw, and he could see flickers of lightning in her eyes. Anger, rage, covered up by a thin, gauzy curtain of "impassivity."

Finally, the waves settled, lapping calmly at the shores. Artemis politely leaned forward, tracing his face slowly, intimately, with her sterling eyes. Percy felt like he was walking on a knife's edge, and the exhilaration of it was goddamn divine. He wanted to live like this forever, always kept on his toes, feeling something. Anything. She was just as likely as to kill him as she was to agree with him, and that was both fascinating and thrilling.

Then Artemis smiled. Percy had never seen this particular variant before—her smiles were usually vicious, alight with a violence that Percy had only seen in the narrowed eyes of predators. This one was a forgery, one carved out of deceit and blatant duplicity.

And you called me the liar... Percy thought to himself.

"Do you want me to agree with you?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question, Percy Jackson," Artemis said, and his name on her tongue was heavenly. Euphoria came crashing into him in great, gigantic waves; he wanted to drown in it. "Is that your desire? For me to tell you that you're completely right... That you've deciphered the code, cracked the enigma, solved the puzzle... Bravo, Percy Jackson. Well done." Her tone was sardonic, bitter, with a firm edge to it that Percy flinched at. It brought him down to reality.

"It's the truth," he said, tension on his shoulders. It released. "You like the truth, don't you? Well then, take it—" He looked at her curiously. "Everyone wants what they don't have. It's not just about you and me... It's like a universal law. The law of all laws, you know. It commands every living being. The squirrel doesn't have nuts for the winter...it's going to want nuts for the winter. It's not that complicated." He let out a light breath in between his rambling. "But we're not squirrels. I'm a human. You're a goddess. We've gotten the food we want for the winter, but that's not enough."

Artemis did not interject when Percy compared her to a squirrel. Percy considered this a very good sign, and he smiled, continuing: "You want to live...and everything that comes with living. I want the opposite. That's all there is to it." Not uncertain about the truthfulness of his declaration, but nervous of Artemis's reaction, he added quickly, "There are probably other reasons why you hate my guts... But I think I got the main one, yeah?"

"You're a strange man, Percy Jackson," Artemis said, after he had finished.

Percy stared. He didn't think "thanks" was the right reply for that. Artemis looked at him levelly; the hate and impassivity had evaporated, leaving something else in its wake. "In a good way?" he probed.

"In a strange way," she unhelpfully stated.

He looked at her, then away, and smiled. "Nice clarification."

A couple of beats passed, and Artemis finally gestured for the waiter to come over. "Can I have a menu, please?" she asked the waiter.

"Yes, ma'am," and the waiter brought it over. Artemis's eyes roamed.

"I didn't think we were going to order anything," Percy blurted. "I thought you were going to eat me alive, or something."

"I'd probably die of indigestion."

"You're immortal, you wouldn't die—hey...hey, you just made a joke!"

She looked up at him from the menu, her silver eyes half-lidded. "Is that the most surprising thing this evening?"

"But joking is for...friends," Percy said. "Does that mean you don't hate me anymore?"

She did not reply to his question. "How did it make you feel, when I called you 'insignificant'?" Her eyes did not leave the menu, and they seemed to gleam.

Percy looked at her dead-on. However uncertainty still returned to him, prickling and uneasy. Making a joke didn't mean he could forget what Artemis had said to him before. They had just been fighting minutes ago, for god's sake.

"Bad, because I know you mean it."

"So that brings me to your logical fallacy. How can I be envious of something insignificant to me?"

It hurt to be called "something insignificant," but Percy didn't think about it too much. He didn't want to go through another rabbit-hole of depression and self-worth issues. His smile did die though, and he saw the slightest flicker of victorious rage in Artemis's eyes at the sight of his misery.

God—gods—she could be so nasty at times.

Percy said, sharper than he'd intended, "I don't know what a logical fallacy is—it sounds like something an English teacher would talk about, and I failed English—so yeah, a clarification would be good... But I've never claimed to be a super logical person. My mom has always told me to speak from the heart, and that's what I've been doing." Artemis's lips twisted, clearly convinced that Percy was some kind of dastardly liar. Percy rolled his eyes. "You, Artemis, are a series of contradictions. I could list every one of them, but I'd grow tired, and you'd grow murderous, so I won't. But still...just because something doesn't make sense doesn't mean it's wrong. The best things in life are the unexplainable."

"How profound," Artemis said acerbically. "You'd give Homer a run for his money."

For a second there, Percy thought about the wrong "Homer," before things suddenly cleared up for him. "Oh, the old Greek guy. The philosopher, right?"

"The writer. He wrote The Iliad and The Odyssey."

"Oh," Percy said. Percy had no idea what the hell those were—probably books?—and Artemis could tell.

She let out a brisk laugh, that turned into a sly smirk. "I suppose I don't expect you to know that. You don't seem well-read."

Percy knew he should find offense in that, but he could honestly only feel embarrassed. According to his mom, he was half-Greek, but Percy had never really thought much about the other part of his identity; he certainly didn't know about The Iliad or The Odyssey or whatever Greek literature Artemis considered necessary for being well-read. He retorted, "I thought you were a hunting goddess. I didn't know you dabbled with literature on the side too."

"All of the Olympians have read it," Artemis said, a bit defensive. "I'm not a scholar, not like my sister...but it's a necessary read. And my godly domains don't pertain to what I do on the downtime."

"Yeah, like visiting bars and stalking bartenders."

High color flared on Artemis's cheeks, and it was just such a stupidly strange image in Percy's mind that he let out a little stutter of laughter. She looked more intently at the back of the menu at drinks, bringing it slightly higher on her face, before she decided to call the waiter over to order.

"A glass of wine. Riesling, please," Artemis said, still not looking up at Percy. Finally, when a tiny silence had passed between them, she breathed out, "What do you want, Jackson?"

"The same thing," Percy said. "Please." He didn't know what Riesling wine was, but it sounded all right, and he really didn't want to order off of the menu, exposing his dyslexia to Artemis. She would probably mock him, and another blow to his pride wouldn't be pretty. Percy sighed in relief, glad when the waiter left with a little nod.

When they were alone again, Percy asked, "Do you think it'd be possible for you to see me in some other lighting?"

Artemis looked at him carefully. Studiously. Like he was some kind of strange experiment she'd completed, with data that included outliers. "What do you mean?" she asked in a calm tenor. "I'd daresay I already see you differently."

"I mean...not insignificantly," Percy said. "I can't be friends, acquaintances, banter buddies, with someone who sees me as pathetic and unimportant." Percy was too emotional to realize he'd just said banter buddies unironically.

"Does it hurt your mortal ego?" Artemis's words were not cruel, but rather curious.

"Yeah. You could say that."

"I don't think it'd be possible for me to see you differently," Artemis told him, her voice far quieter than usual, no longer with the rough bite of her vicious, feral anger. "And I mean this in the most honest way I can, Percy Jackson. I doubt it would be easy for you to begin empathizing with ants."

"I'm not an ant," Percy said with conviction.

"You die the same way," Artemis told him tonelessly. "But you understand my point, don't you, Jackson? I hope this little...meeting of ours has given you some understanding of my nature. I am not cruel. I am not unkind. I am honest, and sometimes that honesty in itself can hurt."

"It's wrong, though," he said. "Your honesty is wrong; everything you're saying is wrong; you are wrong. I might have a low esteem, but I'm not a fucking doormat, Artemis. Just because I'm human doesn't mean I'm insignificant. And to generalize and think of all this psycho shit...well, it's inhumane."

Artemis smiled at that moment, a glittering thing. She looked down, then back up.

Her eyes were framed by long lashes, like curled, wispy strands of pure amber. Percy had just noticed, and he recognized her eyes should've been beautiful...but they were just intimidating.

"It doesn't matter to me—what is inhumane and what is not—Percy Jackson. I am a goddess, as you've so expertly pointed out. Your human morals don't affect me like they do you. I could turn you into a deer and kill you, and it wouldn't matter. I don't need to act 'humane,' because I am not human. Different rules apply to me."

"Refrain from turning me into a deer, thanks," Percy said. "And also, what you've said doesn't hold weight. It isn't about rules applying to you, it's about having a conscience. It's possible for gods to act humane, just as it's possible for humans to act inhumane."

"Oh, really? How many gods have you met, Percy Jackson?"

None, he thought. "It's a gut feeling," Percy said. "But that's besides the point. All I'm saying is that it's stupid to call all humans insignificant, just because we die."

"I'd beg to differ," Artemis indicated coldly. "Of course, needless to say, I do believe humans have some worth; why else would Prometheus create them? That worth, however, is not the same as significance. For instance, I have taken many mortal girls for my Hunt, and I believe that all of them have some inert value."

"That's Thalia, then, right?" Percy asked. Curiosity bubbled in him, and he forgot about the anger he should be feeling. "She's in the 'Hunt'? What's that... Is she okay?"

"It's a group of hunters. Mortal girls who I've given the gift of immortality to, in exchange for their vows of chastity and loyalty to my cause."

"Cause?"

"We hunt, Jackson. It's in the name," she said dully.

He blinked. "You're telling me, my best friend left me, so she could wear camouflage print and chase animals."

"To kill animals," Artemis corrected, and she looked away, "but yes."

"I thought you were a talent scout, trying to hire Thalia for a modeling agency," Percy told her, blurting shit from the top of his head, as if he were back in high-school.

"And that upset you?" she questioned, looking at him with weariness in her gaze.

I was jealous, he wanted to say, but his ego would not budge. "It's stupid thinking back on it now. I was being irrational."

Artemis didn't smile, brag, or goad him. She stared searingly at him, analytical. "Thalia doesn't speak of it," she began cautiously, "but I know she thinks of you often. Sometimes, she will stare at the riverbank for hours on end, as unmovable as rock. She stares at a river the color of your eyes, Percy Jackson."

"You didn't have to tell me that."

She stared. "Why not?"

"Because you hate me. Because you are still convinced that I'm worth jack-shit."

Artemis looked at him, a funny and strange look in her eyes. "I have many enemies, but I treat them all with respect."

"You're pretty good at lying too, Artemis. I have to hand it to you," Percy told her. "But my mom used to read me Greek myths. Your enemies are either dead or livestock."

Her smile widened, and she didn't deny it. "Consider yourself lucky, then."

The wine came, just when Percy was feeling the most nauseous. The two glasses, identical and equal in size, arrived set on a china plate, the white porcelain gleaming like diamonds. Percy saw his reflection in it, and his expression had so many emotions, bizarrely mixed and impossible to separate or decipher. God, what was she doing to him...his brain felt jumbled, and when he engaged with Artemis, he didn't even remember his own name.

Get a hang of yourself, Jackson, he telepathically commanded his reflection.

Artemis grabbed—no, the better word for it was seized—the wine-glass. Her fingers were feather-light, somehow delicate despite the viciousness of their owner. Percy could imagine her as an archer, in that moment; gracefully, skillfully pulling an arrow back, watching as it recoiled slightly, then the arrow darting away from the bow, gliding through the air like it was a winged animal, the shot finally landing true.

The way she took the glass was artistic in nature. He tried to think of a way to describe it, to put a reason behind the elegance in a person getting a fucking wine-glass, but it was impossible to describe. And besides, Percy was no poet.

So he looked away, at the wine glowing in front of him. It was a white wine, aromatic and with a strong smell that reminded Percy simultaneously of sweetness and bitterness. The liquid itself was white, though transparent, glimmers of pale gold being revealed upon catching light.

He reached out to take the Riesling wine. His fingers felt clumsy, as he stared at Artemis. She seemed to look amused, and feeling a hot sting of embarrassment at his weakness, Percy looked away, taking the pretty wine-glass and chugging from it like he was a man dying of thirst.

Was Percy a drinker? No. Was he about to look like a coward and an idiot? No.

He finally stopped when the taste caught up to him, and he grimaced. "God, this tastes like a kindergartener's apple cider."

"Riesling is one of the most expensive wines in the world," Artemis said, looking at him with a raised brow.

The acidity of the drink burned the back of his tongue. He would not be half-surprised if Artemis had poisoned it somehow. Bribed the waiter, played the long game to kill him... Fair play, Percy thought rather distantly, and he began to identify more of the strange hints of fruit in the drink. There were apples, of course, and...and...a light coating of apricot, traces of the sweetest of pears, the barest squeeze of a tart lime—

"I thought you would've asked me to bring her back."

To bring back the lime? Artemis rolled her eyes, as if she could somehow read his thoughts.

"To bring back Thalia...Thalia Grace," Artemis clarified, staring at Percy's pursed expression at the wine. She tilted the glass in her hands prettily and took a light sip. "You haven't asked me once about getting her back."

Percy flushed, before he put the wine-glass away, saying, "It's not about 'getting her back.' It's just...if you can, then by all means, I'd love to see Thalia again. But it isn't my business what she wants to do."

"Huh."

"She's my best friend. That's why I was being so stupidly, impulsively protective of her. I know everyone at Moonlit about the same"—which meant, not nearly as much as he liked—"but Thalia is like me. She's got the same knack for jumping into trouble. I just wanted to protect her. It was stupid."

Artemis took another sip, this time more indulgent. "Am I 'trouble'?"

Percy couldn't help it; he let out a laugh, high and young. "Artemis, it's really hard for me to describe you sometimes," he said. Percy had stared ages at the moon, but he still had a very vague understanding of the ethereal goddess behind the moon's misty sheen. "But I do know 'trouble' fits you perfectly."

"You don't know anything about me."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Now you understand how I felt. I could say the exact same thing about you."

Artemis's lips twisted, and he was worried for a second that she would get angry, before she lightly said: "Touché."

Artemis continued to drink, and although Percy had initially neglected his wine, he felt pressured to continue. As an act of intimidation, to prove he was not going to lose to a glass of apple-apricot-pear-lime wine. God, it was sickeningly sweet and yet bitterly disgusting; who the hell drank this type of crap?

"So. About the insignificance thing," he finally said, after his fifth sip. Or rather, his fifth guzzle.

"It seems like that's your favorite word. What of it?"

Percy breathed in, then released. "I have a question, Artemis. How can you chat and drink with me? I thought you hated me—considered me an enemy, or something."

She shrugged. "Mortals wouldn't understand it. Hatred is different for gods. I hate a few of my fellow Olympians. They hate me in return. I still show up at family gatherings and act amicable around them."

Percy wondered who she was talking about, before he stumbled on the old story of the twin archers'—Apollo and Artemis's—births. Their stepmother, Hera, had cursed their mother with difficulty in childbirth, harassing the soon-to-be-mother constantly and ferociously. No wonder Artemis said she hated some of the Olympians—not all of them were kind, Percy knew.

"I'm not an Olympian. You don't need to tolerate my presence, or have a conversation with me."

"I'm curious about you," she said, her tone far lighter than before. "That's why I'm here."

Percy's heart skipped. He tried ignoring it, and he opened his mouth—

"But don't let that give you the wrong impression. Again, Jackson, you're not some special little ball of light that the world revolves around. That would be my brother, and I don't need another Apollo."

He looked at her, concentrating on the words. Exhaustion flooded his head in ripples.

Her expression darkened. "And if you look at me funny once, the way I know mortal men have the tendency of doing, I will not hesitate to uproot you from this earth and save everyone the trouble of your existence."

Percy narrowed his eyes. "I had the impression you hated men, but...wow."

Artemis continued to stare at him, waiting for his affirmation.

"I'm not going to look at you weirdly," Percy continued assuredly. "I already know you're all-powerful, and I'm not nearly depressed enough to be suicidal."

That self-deprecating talk made Artemis's lips curl a bit in amusement. Percy rather liked it when Artemis wasn't angrily indifferent. She was...nice, almost. Like someone he could have a conversation with, rational and—

She thinks you're pathetic.

...quickest wake-up call Percy had ever had.

"So, am I still insignificant?" He tried to put as much carelessness into his voice as he could, but it still came out choked and deprecating.

"I want to tell you a story, and perhaps it will give you clarity on my stance."

Percy stared at her, and Artemis continued:

"My brother is a liar." She flitted her gaze at him, but her eyes were distant. "He goes to every pretty mortal he can find, serenading them with romantic ballads and promises of eternal love. It has always ended tragically, always with his lovers being cursed...usually into floral or arboreal forms. He has put too much significance onto mortals, and that has always led to their downfall."

The unsaid words rang through his head. I don't want to be like him.

Percy wasn't sure what to take from that. "So you're telling me that his love turns humans into plants, while your hate turns people into animals?" Percy blinked stupidly. "That's kind of profound."

She stared at him listlessly.

Percy began to examine Artemis's words. Artemis didn't want to be like her brother, Apollo, because of his weakness for mortals... She didn't want to be trapped, enraptured, by a mortal—she didn't want to be weak...

Percy's pride hurt, because he could understand that.

Had he seriously begun to empathize with her?

Well, a little.

He was acting like Piper, always so sweet, charming, talkative, and empathetic. She was more prone to forgive, and perhaps Percy had become a bit like her in a way...

But it didn't change the facts... Percy was Percy, and he still had a load of issues. He often said things he didn't mean. Things like "I'll find my purpose in my life" when he was trying to prove a point, without actually meaning it... And, and..."I'm significant"...even though he often thought otherwise. And he was addicted to how easy it was to talk to Artemis, even though he was sure, moments before, that he utterly hated her.

Fuck. Perhaps he was the actual contradiction all this time.

"The point of my story is that I'm nothing like Apollo," she enunciated. "And just because I'm talking to you, perhaps even enjoying it, it doesn't mean your value has exponentially shot up. You are mortal, Percy Jackson, and despite all of the interesting things you've preached to me, you will stay unimportant and wither away."

She continued, looking at him straight in the eye. "It won't be by my hand, but you will die, Percy Jackson, and temporality is the true sign of insignificance."

"You're never going to see me as important," Percy said, and he stopped drinking. He set his gauzy glass down firmly. "You're always going to see me as the scum beneath your shoes. Nothing more, nothing less."

Artemis began, exasperated, "What do you want—"

Percy didn't let her finish. Didn't want her to finish, fearful of reality...of what she would say. "I'm no one," he rasped. "I'm nothing."

A stain. A shadow. A pest. A grain of sand, in the grand immortal expanse of the world.

He tried to summon his ego. It vanished, lost in the wind.

It too was temporary.

Percy knew he and Artemis had already reached an impasse... It was impossible to make a compromise, when she didn't even value him as an equal. He thought back to the earlier branch in their conversation, of their barbed retorts of mutual hatred; it felt so long ago, a foreign memory from a different time-period.

Percy couldn't believe himself. Was he so desperate for conversation that he wanted to talk with her? Artemis wasn't like Annabeth, with playful remarks and coy looks; Artemis—honest to god...gods...whatever—hated him.

And it was a hatred that Percy had only begun to see. Could he be friends with someone who hated him? Was he so desperate for companionship that he'd sink so low? He had Piper, Nico, and Zoë back at the bar, and wasn't that enough? He could breach the distance between them, become good friends with his coworkers, and as limited as his social circle would be, it would be better than associating with Artemis.

He could already taste tragedy on his tongue—he felt like it was very plausible for Artemis to turn him into an animal, or kill him, or do any other horrible thing to him, when she got angry.

He was going to get hurt, emotionally or physically... He was already hurt.

He saw the pattern, and this whole night had been the stupidest he'd ever witnessed. Percy had asked for Artemis to come down from the sky like she was a fucking pizza delivery service. And obsessed as she somehow was, Artemis had obliged him, swiftly arriving from the heavens in a single breath. And she had taken him here. And he had agreed to stay.

And gods...they were both idiots, weren't they?

"I'm done," Percy blurted in an instant. "It's been a nice chat. But I'm done."

And he left, because if there was anything Percy Jackson was good at doing, it was running from all of his problems. He went hastily, standing up and rushing past Artemis without so much as a look, in a burst across the room and through the door, into the night.

He didn't look back at the table. He didn't want to think about the expression Artemis was making.

He expected to be killed on the spot. For consequences to rain down on him for being disrespectful. But nothing happened, and Percy left without punishment or intervention.

The glass of wine remained unfinished.

A/N: This is the chapter I really want to get to; it's pretty much the turning point of the story where we see things actually start getting a move on. I hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review, so I can hear your thoughts. Forgive me for any typos...lol. Thank you for your patience and for reading.