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Percy swung open the door of his cabin and heard it hit the opposite wall. As much as he liked the Poseidon cabin, without Tyson, it felt even emptier than it had on that first night after he was claimed. The Hermes cabin might have been crowded but at least there were other kids there. Now, his only real sibling was gone, and he felt lonelier than ever.
The quiet was also giving him the unfortunate opportunity to ruminate over the events from the past two weeks. The prophecy, nearly losing Tyson, Clarisse, Annabeth, Circe’s island, getting turned into a guinea pig, fatal flaws, Kronos, Luke, Thalia. It was all too much, even for demigod standards.
Arguably, the prophecy deserved his mental energy right now, so he was embarrassed that it was Thalia he couldn't stop thinking about.
(Not in that way!)
It wasn't even about what Thalia meant for the prophecy; it was about Annabeth and Grover and Percy's itchy feeling that he was quickly becoming a fifth wheel.
Annabeth and Grover spent the night catching up with Thalia. After he said goodbye to Tyson, Percy tried to join into the group with them, but it only made him feel isolated. He slipped away to walk the edge of the beach without anyone even noticing.
Logically, Percy knew it wasn’t personal. He knew Annabeth and Grover were just excited to have their friend back. And why shouldn’t they be? They thought they’d never see Thalia again—why should it matter if seeing them together made Percy’s blood feel like it was evaporating? Why should it matter if seeing them together hurt worse than getting stabbed? Annabeth and Grover deserved to be happy, even if that meant Percy couldn’t be.
In fairness, the prophecy was nagging at him, too. Specifically, Annabeth’s silence when Percy had asked her whether she thought he’d destroy Olympus. Her lack of an answer was monumentally worse than a yes would’ve been, because it meant she wasn’t sure. Percy had told Annabeth that it only took him two days to see how special she was, and she still wasn’t sure about him? But she was sure about Thalia?
Percy landed on his bunk with a hard thud, feeling sorry for himself—which he felt like he had earned at this point—when someone lightly knocked on the cabin door. Getting up, Percy grumbled under his breath at whoever it was; he really was not in the mood for company.
He softened a little when he saw Grover standing on the other side, silhouetted by the camp torches. He pushed past Percy without a word. Not angrily, something more concerning.
“Grover?” Percy asked, closing the door behind him.
“If I ask you something, can you be honest with me, please?” he said, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Of course?” Percy said with a questioning glance.
After the debacle at Yancy, Grover and Percy had promised to be as honest as they could, so he wasn’t sure why Grover seemed so worried.
“Are you okay?”
Percy reared his head back in surprise. He’s not sure what he expected Grover to say, but he knew it wasn’t that.
“Okay as anyone could be, considering…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
It was an evasive answer, but it was still more or less the truth.
“Yeah. Yeah. That makes sense,” Grover said, pausing with an expression as if he was running some kind of internal systems check.
“Are you sure, though?”
Grover’s persistence was getting under Percy’s skin.
“Yes, Grover. How’s Thalia?”
It sent a pang to his gut to ask, but it served as a natural change of subject.
Grover’s face fell. “Don’t—don’t do that.”
The ache in his gut increased but it suddenly felt foreign to him.
“Do what?”
“Change the subject like that. You said you’d be honest.”
“I am being honest,” Percy responded, pitch raising with a defensive tone. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I can feel you, remember?”
Right, the empathy link.
Percy hadn’t fully understood how it worked when they shared that dream for the first time; he had just thought it was cool and hadn’t asked any questions.
He wished he would’ve now. It was clear the empathy linked worked with more than just dreams.
"I was telling the truth. How 'okay' am I expected to be?" He gestured towards the general direction of Zeus' cabin.
"She's not a threat, Percy," Grover said seriously.
"You can't know that. The prophecy has to be about one of us."
"That makes you just as dangerous. You can't put that all on her."
Percy's stomach started hurting again hearing how ready Grover was to defend Thalia. It only reminded him of everything he had to lose.
“That’s not what’s really bothering you, thought, is it?” Grover said, in a voice much lower and slower than before.
Percy scrunched his face up in frustration before turning away from Grover to face the back wall.
He wasn’t sure if the empathy link let Grover know what was wrong or if it just let him know something was. He sincerely hoped it was the latter, because Percy could not admit this.
How was he supposed to tell his best friend that hearing him defend Thalia hurt worse than the broken nose Luke had given him? How was he supposed to admit that seeing Grover and Annabeth with Thalia hurt worse than getting electrocuted by her? That would only make Grover feel guilty for being happy that Thalia was back and Percy couldn’t do that to him.
“I’m just missing Tyson,” he said with a shrug, still turned around.
It wasn’t enough of a lie for Percy to feel like he was breaking his promise, but it also wasn’t enough of the truth for Percy to feel good about it.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Grover prodded.
“Nothing.”
He felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “Percy.”
The tone of Grover’s voice drained all the fight from him. The idea of continuing to lie to Grover was now more intolerable than telling him the truth.
“Seeing you and Annabeth with Thalia…” he couldn’t finish.
Using the hand still on his shoulder, Grover spun himself around so that they were facing each other again.
The silence made Percy panic. “I know she was your friend first. Just forget I said anything.”
“An empathy link can only be created between best friends, remember?” Grover said sympathetically, with no hint of condescension. “She’s not replacing you.”
Percy exhaled shakily, avoiding the satyr’s eyes. He almost hoped this was a consequence of the empathy link because the alternative meant he was far too transparent.
He was always worried he was replaceable, particularly since coming to camp and seeing how many better options Grover and Annabeth had.
Percy shrugged casually, as if mortification wasn’t curling low in his gut. “I know that.” His voice was an octave too high.
“Do you?”
Percy met his eyes, willing Grover to understand without words. He didn’t want to lie to Grover anymore, but he also couldn’t say this out loud. He tried to open up his thoughts, as if that would free up the link somehow.
Grover responded with a nearly imperceptible nod. Percy hoped his gratitude was equally as clear.
He expected Grover to leave after that, satisfied enough by Percy’s answer, but he sat on Percy's bunk, deep in thought, instead.
“This empathy link…” he shook his head. “You scare me sometimes, Percy.”
He didn’t know what Grover was referring to specifically, but considering what he had realized on Circe’s island, Grover was probably right to be.
"Good," he said, sitting down next to Grover. "You should be afraid of me."
Grover shook his head. "No. Not of you. For you."
Percy shot him a puzzled look.
"Are we going to pretend that I didn't feel what you felt on Polyphemus' island?"
"I'm okay," Percy said, much too quickly.
That was the truth, currently anyway, in fairness.
"I felt you, Percy. You couldn't have cared any less if that was Polyphemus or Tyson pushing that rock out of the way." Grover paused while he scanned Percy's face, like he was looking for something. In a much smaller and quieter voice, he continued, "it almost seemed like you wanted it to be Polyphemus. I've never felt something like that from you."
Percy winced. The empathy link definitely hadn't existed long enough because Percy had certainly felt like that before. He always had, in a way. Usually, it was more of a passive idea than on that island.
Percy knew all of this, of course. Not being able to get to Annabeth while her blood was spilling onto the sand was one thing; Luke being the only one who could help her was another. It had made vines of terror wrap around his throat. He had quite literally gotten on his knees to beg Clarisse for the fleece.
But that wasn't what made him silently wish for Polyphemus to come back: it was his lack of regret. They had managed to save camp in the end, but for as much as he knew at the time, he very well had killed everyone to save Annabeth. And it was worth it. He'd do it again. And again and again. For Annabeth. For Tyson. For Grover. For his mother. He'd always make that choice and he would never regret it.
And that made him dangerous.
Percy glanced at Grover out of his periphery and saw him still looking at him intensely. It was clear that he wanted an actual answer, which was making Percy's skin prickle. He didn't have one; not one that would satisfy Grover.
Percy didn't talk about this. Ever. With anyone. Not his many guidance counselors at school—which hardly did any guiding so Percy wasn't sure why they were called that—not the many therapists his mom had taken him to see.
Least of all his mom, who he talked to about most things. This was the exception. He couldn't tell his mom that when things at school got bad enough, which they usually did, he wouldn't always look both ways before crossing the street. He couldn't tell her that he would sometimes take the streets home she had told him not to. He couldn't tell her how he had wished Polyphemus would come back, just to put a stop to the hard pit of guilt and fear in his stomach.
It would only scare her, and Percy did that enough already.
Grover's insistence on an answer put Percy on the defensive.
"I can also feel what you feel too. You felt just as bad," he spat, harsher than he perhaps intended, but no harsher than he felt.
"Not like that!" Grover exclaimed. "I was worried about Annabeth and Tyson. And about what was going to happen to us."
"How's that any different than me?" Percy asked.
He heard his mom in the back of his head telling him that it wasn't fair to be grilling Grover like this, especially when he was showing genuine concern for him—he elected to ignore it.
"You know how," Grover said, voice tight.
Grover's reluctance to explicitly say what it was he was getting at was grating on Percy's spent nerves. He knew they were teetering on an argument, and while arguing with Grover was one of his least favorite activities, he was too exhausted to care.
"No. I don't."
Grover looked hurt. "It felt like you wanted to die, Percy. Or, at least, you wouldn't have cared if you did."
His words fell heavy in the darkness of the cabin.
It was the latter. Very rarely did Percy have enough energy to even muster up a desire for the former. There was every possibility he could die destroying Olympus. Could he really be blamed if he sometimes wished that he would never even reach the age of the prophecy?
"So?" Percy asked with a heavy sigh.
He wanted nothing more than to be able to go to sleep, but now it was Grover's feelings that were the problem. He felt the same as if Percy had just slapped him.
(He wanted to go to sleep and wake up, to be clear.)
"Wh-what do you mean 'so?'," Grover asked, incredulous. "That's a serious thing! H-how can you even say that?"
Percy gave him a one-shoulder shrug. "Dunno. I think I've always felt like this."
That felt like Grover had just gotten stabbed.
"That's... that's awful. You, you know that, right?"
"I mean, yeah. I'm sure it's not great to have imagined how your death will go multiple times before turning 16, but there are more important things to worry about right now."
"Sure, Percy, but you can't just—I mean you're too—I need—" Grover sighed, weary as Percy felt.
Seeing how horrible this was making Grover feel, and how exhausted he had become during this conversation, thawed the defensive caged around his heart. He heard his mom's voice in the back of his mind again and suddenly felt very ashamed. Grover was only trying to help.
"I'm sorry," Percy said, lifting his head up to meet his eyes. "I know you're only worried."
"I'm not just worried. I'm scared. I mean, you're my best friend, Percy. I can't lose you."
Percy just looked at him, mouth agape.
There was the confirmation of all that had passed wordlessly between them earlier, and Percy didn't know how to respond. He was so used to caring more about other people than they cared for him. He was so used to preparing for people to leave him, so it wouldn't hurt so much when they did.
(It always did.)
"I'm a demigod. How likely is it that I even make it to 16? How likely is it I make it to 20?"
"But that would be in service of Olympus. Not because you forgot how much people care about you. Not because you thought your life wasn't worth the cost of another's."
"Grover, I-I don't know..."
Percy wouldn't have had an answer even if his eyelids weren't drooping. He didn't know what to do with Grover's unwavering care for him.
"It's okay. We're both tired. I just," he paused, chewing on his next words for a moment. "I just wanted you to know that I know. And that I hope you can talk to me when you feel like this. I'm not going to make you promise because I know what promises do to you. I just needed you to know. I needed to know that I said it."
Percy knew what promises did to him, too. Circe had made sure of that. Polyphemus had made sure of that. But he didn't care. Love and loyalty were intertwined for him; they always had been. He didn't know how to care about people any other way.
"I promise, Grover. Share a dream with me and force me to send an Iris message if I'm ever being stubborn about it, okay?"
"You? Stubborn?" Grover laughed lightly. Not carefree, but getting there.
"I think you have me confused with someone else," Percy said, nudging Grover's shoulder with his.
The corner of Grover's mouth lifted in a half smile. "I meant what I said earlier. You're my best friend. I can’t lose you."
Percy wasn't exaggerating when he said that Grover was the first real friend he ever had.
"I love you, too."