"Cousin Percy!" a voice rang out across the otherwise empty beach.

It was a dark, cold night. The closest buildings twinkled with Christmas lights and faintly, beneath the roar of the surf, carols were playing. The night was peaceful, the stars alight over the water. Despite this, Percy had distinct Halloween vibes that night. It was almost the winter solstice. To those in the know, this was the time when darkness ruled, when evil powers stirred. Even on the beach, the threshold to his own domain, Percy had not felt fully at peace; a dark foreboding had been growing in him as December had progressed and he was on edge.

So the god suddenly approaching him with open arms had only himself to blame if a spout of water suddenly launched itself from the ocean directed towards his face. Luckily for all involved, Percy did not have to test this god's good will because he shifted the attack at a last moment's recognition and the seawater instead cascaded to either side, not so much as dripping one droplet of water over the god.

"Lord Hermes?" Percy said.

The god didn't answer at first, looking up at where the waters divided over him until the spout fell away, an oddly befuddled expression on his face. He looked different from the last few times Percy had seen him, not even counting the expression. Ever since the final battle…since Luke, Lord Hermes had gone completely gray-haired. He didn't quite look elderly, not in his haggard but unwrinkled face, but nor was he youthful in the least.

He looked different this night. Both better and worse. Less gray…but more worn. He was so different that Percy later wondered how he had so immediately recognized him as Lord Hermes, especially in the dark. Instead of an older or middle-aged man, he'd manifested as a youth. If it hadn't been Lord Hermes but some stranger, Percy might have assumed him to be his own age, some college kid out for a stroll on the beach. His hair was too dark to appear gray anymore, though Percy's night vision was not good enough to identify what color it had become instead. He was wearing his Hermes Express delivery outfit, but without the hat or satchel or, as far as Percy could see, his caduceus. He had no coat, despite the cold night.

The youthful face turned his befuddled expression on Percy, then smiled, not even an impish grin but an oddly innocent beaming smile of one who had caught sight of someone they liked and were happy to see. The expression didn't last, slipping instead into a frown as Percy got closer, until they were face to face. This close, Percy could see that the god had dark shadows under his eyes, and that his usually pristine uniform was mud splattered, even torn at one of the knees. The god's hair whipped about in the wind, the usual halo of curls tangling itself into a rat's nest.

It had somewhat become a game between them, especially during the solstices, that Percy would practice trying to pickpocket Lord Hermes whenever they met. Percy had in fact been practicing recently; the Winter Solstice was only a day away. But this meeting was so unexpected, and Lord Hermes' appearance so unusual, that Percy just stood before him while the god frowned up at him. Up…that was new. Either Percy had really grown a lot since the last time they met, or Lord Hermes had shrunk. Or some mixture of the two.

"Cousin Percy," the god said, tone stern. "What are you doing out here all alone? None of us should seek solitude so close to the Solstice. Even the gods don't dare wander alone."

"You're alone," Percy couldn't help but point out. He wasn't being defensive, just factual. In fact, he was having to hold back a laugh. Hearing a mentor try to scold him while looking and, to be honest, sounding like a teenager, a teenager who was now a few inches shorter than Percy, was just so bizarre. Of all the things he thought to see when he sought out solitude by the ocean, this was not it. If he thought he might see a god at all, he'd have expected his father. This being his father's domain, and all. Not that he minded seeing Lord Hermes instead. He liked Lord Hermes. It was just…unexpected.

"Nonsense," Lord Hermes answered, waving his hand as if to wave away Percy's objection. "I'm never alone. I've got…" But then he looked down at his empty hands, checked his pockets, then spun in a circle. "Oh no…I must have left it in the chariot…" For a moment he looked utterly dismayed, but it passed quickly, and the next thing Percy knew the god had thrown an arm around his shoulder companionably. "Anyway," said Lord Hermes, "We're together, so I'm not alone."

"Then I'm not alone either," Percy pointed out, trying to remember what all he had on him that he'd need to check for before Lord Hermes left his side. Lord Hermes had a way of getting at his pockets even when it should be physically impossible, and the god had been the first to teach Percy how physical touch could distract a mortal from wandering hands. Wallet, keys, Riptide, coin purse, knife, lucky nickel, shell necklace, ring…

"But you were alone," Lord Hermes pointed out, arm still holding onto Percy just the slightest bit too tightly.

The god was swaying slightly; Percy could feel him leaning into him. Not trembling from the cold like a mortal might, but not entirely steady. It was so similar to occasions when Percy had to help a friend home after a night of fun that Percy blurted out, "Have you been drinking?" instead of answering Lord Hermes' accusations by pointing out that, out of the two of them out and about alone, Percy was the one who had kept hold of his weapon. Then Percy winced because there was no way that accusing a god of being drunk could be construed as respectful.

"No, course not," Lord Hermes objected, thankfully not sounding particularly offended, "I'm still on the job! Busy time of year, the solstice. Seems the whole country goes a bit mad. Everyone wants their precious gifts and season's greetings delivered this way and that, all around the world, and of course it must be quick, before the solstice, or before that holiday you half-bloods are so keen on, and let's all curse Hermes for being too slow when we want to wait until the day before and expect him to get it to the other end of creation, intact! Had to ask 'Pollo to help for some, and you know how he is."

Percy didn't. It took him a moment, what with the shorthand and the slight slur to Lord Hermes' words to even figure out he must mean Apollo. Not that Hermes waited or expected a response; he'd worked himself into some kind of rant.

"What," the god cried, "Hermes can't drag a thousand-pound marble statue to a stupid island in the middle of nowhere himself? But he says he can deliver anything anywhere! Like it's my fault that my chariot needs a road. I'm the god of roads, not…not…hermits! If it's off roads I have to carry it myself, and the shoes don't like weights heavier than five hundred pounds and if I dropped that in the ocean and had to ask Uncle…well, asking 'Pollo was the best choice."

"Is there a god of hermits?" Percy asked. If he'd thought about it at all, he'd have assumed they fell under Lord Hermes' domain, the word even sounding about like 'Hermes', but the god should definitely know what he was the god of.

"Course there is," Lord Hermes answered. "God for everything."

But he didn't say the name of the supposed god. Instead, he started to slump over, further into Percy. And between the swaying and the rant (complete with talking about himself in third person) and the raccoon eyes, Percy finally worked out what was wrong. Lord Hermes wasn't drunk. He was exhausted. Percy hadn't even thought the gods could get exhausted, not like mortals, but he was acting very similarly to Annabeth after several days of hyper focus on some project or other.

Annabeth might have claimed, back when Percy first learned about half-bloods, that the children of gods all had ADHD because they were wired to fight monsters, but now that Percy had somewhat gotten to know some of the gods he couldn't help but wonder if there was an even simpler explanation: ADHD is genetic. Between Lord Hermes' habit of misplacing such an important item as his own staff (and this was the second time that Percy had known this to happen; hopefully they'd find George and Martha safe and sound in the delivery van and not stolen. Again.), and the way Lord Hermes clearly had worked himself to exhaustion and showed no sign or intention of slowing down…well. Percy saw similarities, was all. Aaand Lord Hermes was really starting to slump now, a lot of his weight going onto Percy. For a god and a grown man, even if he was currently a young grown man, he was surprisingly light.

"Er…" Percy started to say, but stopped himself. He was going to say something like 'Maybe you should go take a nap?' but experience with Annabeth had taught him that suggestions of sleep were never a good idea. So he quickly changed it to, "Shouldn't we go get your caduceus?"

Lord Hermes stumbled a bit as he pulled himself off of Percy, and beamed in that loopy sort of way that college students got after an all-nighter.

"It's in my chariot," Lord Hermes said, as if he hadn't already shared that, though he sounded much more certain this time. Then he frowned and said, "But first I…why did I come to the beach?" And he looked at Percy, as if Percy should know.

This was, by far, his weirdest interaction with any god. In all other encounters, Lord Hermes had given off uncle or older cousin vibes; he was still the pipes in the wind, the wind in his hair, the warm feeling, the found items in a chest but he was also the teacher, the helper, the grieving parent, the mentor. There was always a sense of Lord Hermes being an adult, and Percy a child. Of Lord Hermes being a god, and Percy a mortal (albeit a very powerful mortal). It wasn't that Lord Hermes didn't respect Percy, especially after that final battle, but the flow of their interactions went one direction. Lord Hermes helped Percy…Percy didn't help Lord Hermes. Okay, there was that time with the giant and the stolen caduceus, but even then, it had come off more as a business transaction. Gods gave quests and half-bloods fulfilled them; that was normal. This just felt different.

"Did you come to find me?" Percy suggested, because he honestly couldn't think of any other reason for the god to randomly stumbled along this beach at the exact moment that Percy had sought solitude.

Lord Hermes blinked at him blankly.

"Yes!" he exclaimed after far too long a pause, "I have something for you!"

But then he just stood there. He didn't look like he had anything on him, either. Maybe in a pocket, but he'd patted those earlier looking for his caduceus and they had seemed empty then. And Percy knew for a fact one of his pockets was empty because he'd checked it while Lord Hermes had leaned into him. Hey, Percy had gotten in the habit of trying to pickpocket the god whenever he ran into him; it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"What do you have for me?" Percy asked next, when Lord Hermes just stood there.

"It's…oh…" Lord Hermes answered, once again patting at his pockets. All he pulled out was a knife. Percy's knife, that had been in his own pocket. Percy sighed; at least it wasn't his wallet or his keys, as he accepted his own knife back. Lord Hermes frowned, saying, "No…it wasn't that. It must be back in my chariot, too."

"Well then, let's go to your chariot," Percy suggested, determinedly lighthearted despite how unsettling it was to see a god so out of it.

"Yes," Lord Hermes agreed, then didn't move.

"Lord Hermes?" Percy prompted.

Lord Hermes made a face, wrinkling his nose, and said, "Don't be ridiculous, cousin. You're family. Just call me Hermes."

"Er…right," Percy said, then, very cautiously, "Hermes?" Percy couldn't help but hunch himself up a bit a moment later, the need to use honorifics with the gods so well engrained in him by this point that he half expected Lord Zeus himself to strike him down for his daring, but there wasn't so much as a hint of thunder, and Cousin Hermes just beamed at him.

"Yes, Percy?"

For a moment the conversation had been so derailed that Percy didn't actually remember what he was prompting the god for, and the two of them just stood on the beach, the sound of crashing waves a soothing background. Then the moment passed, and Percy remembered.

"Which was is your chariot?"

Lord…Cousin Hermes looked blankly at Percy, swaying gently on his feet, but finally turned around and said, "This way," with confidence that Percy could only hope was justified, and the god started leading them along the beach.

As they walked, the sound of Christmas carols slowly grew. The two cousins walked in companionable silence, Percy placing himself on the side closest to the water if only to stop Hermes from wandering into it and kept an eye out for threats. Hermes hadn't been entirely wrong about the dangers of wandering alone so close to the solstice. Percy still felt fairly safe; it was hard not to when he was inches away from the ocean, but that was no reason to be stupid about things. And Hermes seemed oddly…vulnerable.

Downplay things as he had, Hermes had needed Percy to fight that giant back when his caduceus had been stolen. Percy wasn't sure if the god actually could defend himself without his staff. And the very fact that he'd misplaced it, again, told Percy all he needed to know about his cousin's fighting spirit. A true warrior would never leave behind his weapon, ADHD or no ADHD. Even if Riptide didn't magically return to his pocket, Percy couldn't imagine forgetting it. His own battle instincts were too finely honed, by necessity, for him to be so careless. Hermes was many things, both wonderful and annoying, and he might be able to fight, but he was not a fighter at heart.

So when Hermes' slow, staggering steps suddenly stopped completely, followed by the god crumbling to the ground, Percy's first instinct was to whip out Riptide while spinning about, looking for threats.

None came, and after a moment, sword still unsheathed, Percy knelt and cautiously tried to figure out what had happened. There was a little more light to see by right there; they had almost reached the beach house and its lights. The garish carols were loud enough to make Percy cringe; there was a reason he was so far down the beach, and there was the sound of voices over that, talking and laughter.

Hermes looked horrible, strewn on his side like a marionette whose strings had been cut, eyes closed and face white. Though to be fair, anyone might come off as half dead under the pale lights, and the flashing Christmas garlands did not improve things either, alternatively giving Hermes a greenish hue, then red, neither of which screamed 'healthy'. But there were no wounds either. No arrow protruding from his torso, no ichor spilling over the sand. And while Percy hovered over him, sword drawn protectively, he swore he heard a brief snore.

After a moment, Percy sighed, then capped his sword and returned the pen to his pocket. Then he reached a tentative hand and nudged the god.

"Hmmm," Hermes responded, not opening his eyes.

"Alright, Cousin Hermes," Percy murmured. "Up you get." And he pulled at his arm until Hermes was half standing, half leaning, Percy holding most of his weight but the god managing just enough to not be a deadweight. They staggered together a few feet, Hermes going limper and limper, until Percy just gave things up and scooped the good up over his shoulder in a fireman's hold.

The darkness around them felt ominous, somehow all the lights and laughter highlighting how alone they were, separated from the crowd. Despite this, Percy did not hurry them towards the party, though he did start to skirt the house, heading towards its rear.

Technically, it was Percy's party. Well, his and a few friends. And Percy had enjoyed it, garish music and twinkling lights and all. His friends were safe; they had survived another year without a new war, without a new death. Percy's family was doing well, both godly and mortal. Percy's relationship with Annabeth was going strong. He had a future, a real future, that wasn't 'fight monsters, die young'. But at some point, the press of people, even if they were people he liked or even loved, and the loud music and the bright lights had gotten to him. The darkness of the year pressed, and he couldn't escape the creeping feeling that some new danger would seen crash over them all. So he had escaped down the beach.

And now he was back, with Hermes, who was worrisomely not at all protesting being hauled around by mere mortal like a sack of potatoes.

He was probably just exhausted. Even if it was hard to imagine a god being so…human. But Percy could not help but worry, and feel like something was terribly wrong. Hermes was supposed to be the adult, the one to tease Percy for being the idiot child. The one to imperiously make demands even after misplacing his own staff. Not the one to literally collapse.

A part of him thought he should go straight to the heart of the party, to call it to a stop, to demand battle positions. But he also rather thought that it wasn't what Hermes would want. For one, Travis and Connor were a part of the party. Percy couldn't imagine Hermes wanting his own sons to see him like this. Couldn't really imagine him wanting Percy to see him like this, but it would be worse if Percy displayed the god in his weakness for everyone to see. So he snuck around, like a thief breaking into his own room.

Except Percy was no Stoll brother. And he was paranoid enough to lock his window.

For a long moment, Percy just stood underneath his own window, listening to the partying around on the other side of the house, and felt rather exhausted himself. He looked around for a moment. Noticed a familiar delivery van. After all Hermes' talk of 'chariots', Percy had half expected to find a traditional Greek racing cart, complete with horses, but of course it was the van. Percy laid Hermes on the ground carefully, took a moment to note that, yes, the god was still breathing peacefully enough, then went over to the van.

The caduceus was there. So was Hermes' satchel. His car keys were still in the ignition. Carefully, Percy retrieved all three, locking the doors after himself.

'Percy!' the snakes greeted him, somewhat speaking over each other in their agitation, but the gist of things was, 'We lost Hermes, we need you to find him.'

"He's over here," Percy was quick enough to explain, "But he kind of…collapsed?"

'Oh, not again!' Martha's voice said, with a bit of a sigh rather than true alarm. 'I told him this would happen if he kept pushing himself.'

'Doesn't eat enough rats,' George agreed, sounding almost mournful. 'Doesn't sleep. Always happens around this time of year.'

"Well…what should I do?" Percy asked.

'Put him to bed,' Martha answered. 'He'll hate it, especially now when we have so many deliveries to finish, but…' She trailed off.

'We told him,' George said, sounding smug now, even gleeful. 'He was sure he could hold off until after the solstice. Ha! Put him to bed, and serves him right.'

"I was going to," Percy said, "Only…my window's locked."

'Is that all?' Martha asked, instead of something like 'why not use the door?' like one might expect.

'We can handle that,' George added, 'Here, just put us at the latch.'

Feeling a bit silly, like a child playing at being a wizard, Percy did as asked, and was rewarded by the gentle sound of a lock clicking. Actually getting Hermes through the window was rather difficult, and Percy might have dropped him. A bit. If it hurt the god, Hermes made not sign. Didn't even stir. He was really out of it, and Percy wondered again if he shouldn't be doing something more, like pouring nectar down his throat or summoning one of Hermes' godly relations.

But finally Hermes was in Percy's bed. Tucked in, the god looked weirdly young and innocent. For a long moment, Percy just hovered over him, holding his caduceus and satchel, wondering what to do next. With the snakes' reassurance that Hermes just needed some sleep, it would probably be best to leave him alone, but then Percy was at a bit of a loss as to what to do instead. Return to his walk down the beach? After Hermes' admonishments that no longer felt fully safe. Return to the party? He felt even less like company than before. What he rather wanted to do was just go to bed, but as Hermes had taken over his bed, that would be rather difficult. Percy sighed.

"He's stolen a lot of things from me over the years," he said out loud towards the snakes, "But my bed?"

'It is too bad,' George agreed. 'All those parcels we still need to deliver.'

Percy hummed in agreement. Then felt the weight of Hermes' car keys in his hand.

It was a stupid idea. A horrible idea. If Percy somehow didn't crash and burn, if he didn't run into some evil spirit of the stirring darkness, if he didn't make a horrible mess of things because he didn't know what he was doing…then at the end of it all he'd have to face Lord Hermes.

Lord Hermes who called Percy family. Cousin Hermes. And really, it was doing his cousin a favor…right?

"I could…" Percy said cautiously, still jingling the car keys and eying Hermes' staff speculatively, because he could do nothing if the snakes were not on his side.

As it turned out, the snakes were on his side. And as the god of thieves, surely Percy's cousin would understand? And it's not like Percy would go alone. After all, there was a world of difference between parading Hermes' unconscious form before the god's children, and offering said children a chance to go for a ride in their dad's chariot.

And if one thinks that a daughter of Athena might be wise enough to talk her idiot boyfriend out of his ridiculous scheme, well, Percy obviously led up to things by raising her curiosity. Annabeth's fatal flaw might be hubris, but her fatal weakness was curiosity. And she might have been slightly drunk (unlike Percy, which was good because neither Martha nor George would have allowed him near the wheel otherwise).

All in all, it was one of their better parties. Sometimes, solitude was nice. But nothing beat a mildly chaotic quest with friends.

Note: No, Hermes does not smite anyone, but he doesn't exactly thank them either. He isn't himself sure what to think of how things turned out once he wakes up (he sleeps so long he's almost late to the solstice meeting and only wakes up in time because Martha decides to wake him). Mostly he feels embarrassed (for collapsing, and he has his suspicions but no proof that his caduceus had somehow induced his sleep even from a distance. Martha and George just roll their eyes and insist no, he was really that worn down), but also proud of his cousin (he is the god of thieves and that was a pretty daring heist even if they only borrowed his things), but also furious (they stole his things!), but also relieved (deadlines were kept). So in the end he completely ignores the whole thing and pretends it never happened.

And for those who are wondering, the word 'hermit' despite sounding a lot like 'Hermes' actually derives from the Greek word eremites, meaning something like 'of the desert'. That said, if any god were to represent hermits, Hermes actually would be a strong candidate. At the heart of things, hermits are loners, wanderers, those who prize knowledge, and Hermes fits well in that category. Another could be Hephaestus, for his tendency to be alone, off in his forge away from the other gods. For the purposes of this story, Hermes is extremely powerful…but only in ways that include his domain. For instance, he can easily and pretty much instantly get to anywhere that includes a road, as roads are his domain. But if the place has no roads, he has to use his flying shoes to reach it. And if the thing he is delivering is awkward enough, like, say, a giant statue that for whatever reason is resistant to magic that could make it easier to handle…there are limits to what an already exhausted and overworked god can realistically manage by himself.

Also, the case of the giant and the missing caduceus, in case you only ever read the main series and were wondering what on earth was up with those references, comes from a book of Percy Jackson related short stories. Hermes does indeed forget his staff in his delivery van where it gets stolen by a giant leading to Hermes demanding that Percy go and get it back for him. So it's basically canon that Hermes is vulnerable or even powerless without access to his caduceus.