7. Starvation

Percy's feet dragged against the grass, little swishes of dirt stirring up as he put minimal effort into raising his feet off the ground. The smell of his dinner—healthy and hearty and far richer than anything his mother could have afforded— infiltrated his sense, rolling nauseously around his stomach. Percy couldn't even stand to look at the pile of steaming delicacies without feeling a lurch in his abdomen. The fire roared before him, the heat from its flames licking over his cold hands as it was his turn to present his offering.

"For Poseidon," the words tumbled out his mouth so quietly he could barely even hear them as he tipped nearly the entire contents of his plate into the fire. He watched the food disappear into the flames and didn't feel any better.

Nobody else sat at table three with him. Tyson was helping to rebuild their father's castle, an endeavor that promised to be ongoing long after Percy's short life expired. Grover sometimes graced Percy with his presence but, after the wars, he too had become an impermanent figure. He could feel Annabeth's eyes on him when he sat at his table, but he could sit with his back to her or, if he wasn't so daring, hunch over his plate and obscure himself from any watchful eyes as he pushed food listlessly around his plate before giving up and letting the harpies take it away.

"Is that all you're going to eat?" Grover asked on the occasion he managed to slip away and join his old friend at Poseidon's table.

"I'm not hungry."

A hand on Percy's shoulder stopped him from moving towards the fire.

"Why don't you sit down and eat?"

Percy blinked up at the centaur. Chiron smiled down at him but the expression was a little off. The smile was thin and a little sad. Percy wanted to hate the pity he saw there, but he didn't have the energy to muster the emotion. He didn't have the energy to feel anything inside.

"I haven't made my offering yet," was what fell off his lips instead.

"It's okay," Chiron said, reaching out to squeeze Percy's shoulder, perhaps a little too tightly. "Your father doesn't need your offering today, son, let's go sit down."

The hand on his shoulder propelled him away from the fire and towards cabin three's table. Percy sat down at the old teacher's urging. He glanced up at Chiron, who hovered around the corner of the table, watching Percy closely.

"Can I help you, Chiron?" Percy asked, too tired for this conversation.

He wished Chiron would just leave him alone. If he hovered for too long, Annabeth would get suspicious and come over. While his girlfriend's presence was always a balm on his soul, he knew she would try to force him to eat and he just . . . he was just too tired.

"We haven't had the chance to talk ever since you returned," Chiron said casually, as if Percy would buy that. His serious brown eyes, full of millenniums of wisdom and sadness, surveyed the demigod.

Percy heard the things Chiron didn't voice—ever since Tartarus, ever since Leo's disappearance, ever since the death of so many of their campers.

"I thought we could chat over dinner," Chiron continued with a pointed look at Percy's food.

Percy didn't look down; the smell alone was nauseating. He wondered if he would feel sick if he had the energy.

"You don't have any food," Percy pointed out with a sigh, leaning forward to rest his head in his hand, elbow propped on the table.

"You eat, I'll just talk," Chiron reasoned, eyebrows raising significantly as he inclined his head towards Percy's utensils, which lay glinting, untouched, in the sunlight.

"Chiron, I don't—" Percy began heavily when a sudden explosion rocked the camp.

Saved by mechanical bulls. Percy took off so fast, he didn't have to see the lines that crinkled around Chiron's mouth as he watched the hero go.

Fall dawned and waned, winter edging silently closer until snow coated the busy sidewalks and frost nipped at every breath. Percy, tucked in a worn blue sweatshirt that a year ago strained under the bulk of a demigod's hard labor now hung limply around his frame, sat alone in the cafeteria. Annabeth only sometimes came to school; half of the time she was on Mount Olympus, finally allowed to finish that design which was promised to her, sometimes . . . well, sometimes she was more like her boyfriend, the scars of yesterdays weighing too heavily on her mind to weather the mundane triviality that was mortal school.

Percy understood. He didn't blame her for the days she stayed away.

He pushed gray, shapeless food around on his lunch tray and waited for the bell to ring.

"Honey?"

Percy knew his mother was concerned. He stared at the plate she set before him. He had fought monsters and demons, titans and gods themselves but the thought of lifting the fork up to his mouth felt too herculean a task for him to partake. But Sally Jackson's eyes, too bright and full of love, wrinkles of suffering still haunting the eyes that cared for him when no one else would, make him reach for the damned utensil and try.

Screams and echoes reverberated in his ears; all he could taste was ash and blood but he managed to swallow a few morsels before conceding defeat. He kept his head bowed as he set down his fork, unable to watch his mother's heart break.

He remembered standing up. He doesn't remember how he ended up on the ground. He may have passed out. He was pretty sure he'd passed out, except he was weirdly both conscious and unconscious of the fact. His cheek rested flush against the scratchy worn carpet of the apartment floor, his arm uncomfortably tucked underneath his body, his legs tangled in the legs of the chair he tried to leave behind. His heart fluttered anxiously against his chest, briefly, for a moment, before settling down; he didn't have the energy to spare for that sort of excitement.

He was mostly certain he was mostly unconscious; his body was out of commission but his mind didn't quite seem to get the entire memo.

Vaguely, in that half-conscious sort of haze, Percy became aware that someone else was in the apartment. He figured he should be concerned. Annabeth would march straight down to the underworld and kill him again if he managed to get himself killed by a monster because he passed out. He couldn't muster the concern, however, and that annoying whisper in the back of his mind assured him he needn't worry. Which might just be the unconscious part of his brain trying to drag the conscious part under, but . . .

Someone was moving him.

Untangling his legs from the chair, freeing his arm from its awkward position wedged between his ribs. A gentle hand carded through his hair and Percy almost thought Mom before the hand came to rest against his cheek and no, that wasn't right. The hand was too large, too callous and the feel . . . the aura was wrong.

Dad.

My son. The words ghosted across Percy's mind, wavering and just out of reach, like waves crashing before they reached the shore. What good does this do you?

A thumb gently smoothed out the lines of Percy's face, easing the permanently edged scars of hardship into softer arches.

Please eat my son.

Percy didn't want to eat. It didn't feel right to eat, not with everyone who was dead, everyone he couldn't—

I cannot loss you, my child. Eat. Do not deprive this father of his son.

"Percy?"

Percy blinked. It was dark out. He was pretty sure it had been light before. Sally stared down at him in horror, hastily dropping bags of groceries to the floor as she rushed forward to her son. Percy realized he was on the ground, knees bent and head cushioned on his arms. Maybe he hadn't fallen? Maybe he had just gone to sleep . . . on the floor?

"I'm okay," Percy immediately assured her, pushing himself onto his elbows and blinking back the explosion of stars the sudden exertion caused.

Sally threw herself onto her knees beside him, arms reaching out to help.

"Are you sure, are you okay, did you . . . did you fall?" he could see the fear lurking in her tired, worried eyes.

"I'm okay Mom, it's okay," he soothed, letting her reach out and touch him, holding his arms out for her to cling to.

"How . . . how do you feel?" his mother asked cautiously, not so subtly scanning for injuries.

"I . . ." Percy's brow furrowed. A memory tugged at him, something important but it slipped away, flowing through his grasp and escaping before he could wrap his mind around it. He stared at his mother. "I think I'm hungry."

A/n I wish ffnet would let me put in big spaces instead of these stupid line breaks. Thank you all so much for your wonderful support, I love each and every one of your reviews!

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