Haunting - isa (lovelyxmh) - Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms (2024)

Chapter 1: amos hates the new kid (not really)

Chapter Text

Amos Morgan was not a people person. That’s not to say he didn't want to be one though.

For as long as he can remember, Amos had always been a bit… unsettling to some people. They didn't always realize it, but it was like they just couldn't help but steer clear of the scrawny boy; he remembered when he was eight and still living at the group home, they forgot to feed him dinner for three days, everyone going out of their way to avoid the young boy without realizing it. When he tried to make friends they avoided him, when he spoke up they ignored him, so at a certain point he just… stopped.

Things got better once he got to camp. Amos was pretty sure he'd be dead if not for Gleeson, the satyr that dragged him to Camp Half-Blood. The angry satyr was maybe the only person Amos could consider a friend — and wasn't that weird, his only friend was a middle-aged goat man — but everyone else… Well it wasn't as though Amos didn't try to make friends.

He tried for a solid week — an accomplishment in his opinion — but it was just easier to fade into the background. And he didn't mind being alone, not really. Camp had too many cliques; everyone was supposed to fit neatly into their groups, their cabins organized by godly parent, but for an unclaimed kid like Amos? Things didn't come so easily. Not to mention his little problem.

He’d had it for as long as he could remember — vitiligo, he remembered Google called it, but the workers at the group home had always called it a blemish — starting as a few white patches on his hands, then a few more on his arms, then on his face then…

Amos didn't like a lot of things about himself, but he didn't truly hate anything except for that. Maybe if he were pale it would be fine, something he could brush off, but with skin so dark other kids often made racist remarks, telling him he blended in with the shadows, he just couldn't. His splotches of pale skin made him a freak, more so than whatever it was that made everyone avoid him.

It had been bad when he was young, not understanding why it was happening, not knowing what to do about it. It wasn't until he was ten, a year before Gleeson came for him, that one of the girls at the home had helped him out.

Penny was only a little older than him, with skin as dark as his and a kind, pretty smile. She had been new to the group home, unfamiliar with the weird hierarchy that had developed which often left Amos at the bottom, unliked and often unremembered. He remembered her finding him, crying in the bathroom after a particularly nasty group of kids harassed him. Her gentle hands wiped his tears, the touch so tender it almost made him cry more. Then she had pulled out a tube of some cheap concealer and sat with him in the bathroom as he learned how to put it on — a skill that he still remembered and put to use every day, never wanting anyone to see the odd white splotches on his skin.

“There,” She had said, patting his head lightly, “Now no one will ever know.” She had said it so simply, had helped him as though it was nothing like kindness was something to be expected rather than something rare.

He still remembered trying to give the makeup back, his smaller hands shaky. Penny had simply laughed, shrugging him off with a sweet smile, “Kids like us have to stick together.”

And they did stick together, for a little while at least. It was probably the best week of Amos’ life, a small glimpse of sunshine in his otherwise dreary existence. She had left on a Tuesday the following week, her dark eyes sad as she left Amos alone once again. At the time it had been jarring, returning to his lonely life after Penny had left, like someone had doused him with cold water and brought him back to reality. So, Amos adapted, learning to find comfort in his solitude.

He had become somewhat of a hermit, staying alone at the home, at camp, it didn't matter. His seclusion became his new normal. Who cares if he could never find a sparring partner because everyone subconsciously avoided him? If he was often left without a spot to eat at the Hermes table and always had to squeeze in at the very end, almost falling off? Certainly not Amos! (Yeah he didn't believe that lie either.)

Still, it was what he was used to, so he couldn't really complain. It's because of that, that when the new kid showed up passed out holding a minotaur horn for dear life, Amos just kind of shrugged.

It was interesting, sure, but it wasn't as though it would affect him. The kid would probably go on to become some great hero, loved by everyone, and if anyone asked him about Amos, he'd say who? That was just the way things were… no biggie.

Except, it kind of was for Amos. He couldn't help the bitter jealousy that rose up whenever he heard the gossip about the new kid. He had shown up to camp passed out too a few years ago! Sure, it was because Gleeson got a little too carried away and accidentally hit him over the head with his bat, but surely it had to count for something. He couldn't help it; all Amos wanted was for someone to look at him and see something, anything.

It was frustrating, so Amos figured he might as well be productive with all his pent up issues and use the time to train.

Everyone at camp trained with some sort of weapon. Amos thought it was all a bit dramatic — if they needed weapons why were they fighting with swords and spears, why not celestial bronze machine guns or cannons or something? — but he supposed that might have to do with their parents. The Greek gods were the definition of drama queens, according to the myths at least. Still, it wasn't as though he was going to go against the norm, so Amos just sucked it up and did what everyone else did.

Despite all that, he did rather like his weapon. He had found it in the camp’s armory, a small tube buried underneath a pile of glittering swords and daggers, forgotten. Amos wasn't sure about the technology behind it, that was for Hephaestus cabin to know, but when he pressed the bottom of the tube, it went from a tiny thing — roughly the size of a tube of chapstick — to a full-sized spear. He had almost stabbed his own eye out the first time he hit the button, but once he got used to it Amos found himself begrudgingly fond of the thing; there wasn't any other weapon he'd rather have in his hands.

Even though he liked it, it didn't necessarily mean that his spear liked him back, which is how he found himself in his current predicament.

Amos had just wanted to train, and let off some steam in the way all the other guys at camp had decided was best. Without a sparring partner though, things became a little more difficult. Add that to his general clumsiness and it was really a recipe for disaster.

He should have seen it coming with his bad luck. Amos had wandered away from the training grounds and into the forest, alone and isolated like he was used to. It was fine at first, with him practicing his slashing and jabbing (at least he was trying to, with practically no training Amos wasn't exactly the most coordinated demigod around) but then he had tried throwing, and well…

He wasn't sure how it happened.

…Yes he was, one of the dryads had shown up and scared him, making Amos let out a very unmanly squeak as he dropped his spear. On his foot. The dryad had left after that — rather rude he thought, he almost wanted to yell after her, but getting stabbed in the foot kind of took priority in his mind — leaving Amos a cursing mess as he tried to hobble his way to the infirmary.

He was glad he hadn't wandered too far into the forest, too nervous to venture deeper, but it hurt. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he had to force himself to hold it in. Amos was very much on the verge of panicking, alone in the woods, limping with a bleeding foot and no friends to call for help, but he tried his best to stay focused.

Just make it to camp, he thought, Just to the infirmary then you can relax.

What would have normally been a five-minute walk turned into fifteen, but when he finally saw camp again Amos was so glad he could have jumped for joy (if his foot wasn't gushing blood). It felt like torture, avoiding the prying eyes of campers as he used his spear, the tip still bloody, as a walking stick and stumbled his way over to the infirmary. He could hear them whisper about him, but no one offered to help. Honestly though, what else did he expect?

Amos was mostly just glad he didn't collapse as soon as he stepped through the threshold of the infirmary. Well, now he was being dramatic but it really hurt. At the very least, the infirmary was mostly empty. Only one of the Apollo kids — Michael, he thought, though honestly he couldn't remember, he tried to pay as little attention to the others as they did to him — the Athena girl and the new kid were in the place. It was silent for a moment as all of them, except the kid who was knocked out, stared at each other. Then, gracefully, Amos flailed as he gestured to his foot, “Uh…”

“Gods, sorry!” The Apollo kid sprang into action quickly at that, as though he needed the reminder that he was supposed to treat injuries. “Can you get the ambrosia, Annabeth? Here, you can sit.”

He practically shoved Amos into a seat, which he would have complained about had he not been so relieved to have the pressure off his foot. He stayed silent as Michael knelt down, removing his shoe and sock. Amos had to bite his lip to prevent himself from letting out an embarrassing whimper. “You're really lucky it didn't go all the way through, you must have some pretty quick reflexes,” Michael laughed, trying to ease the atmosphere, but Amos in all his awkwardness could only manage half a smile.

Please, Amos prayed to the gods, Let this go by quickly so I can pretend it never happened.

Laughter fading awkwardly, Apollo’s son stood up quickly, “I'll go see what's taking Annabeth so long, and you know… get you something to elevate your leg.” The smile he gave him was almost painfully uncomfortable, and Amos got the feeling he was just looking for an excuse to get away from him.

When he was gone, Amos let out a soft sigh. His foot was throbbing with pain still, but the relief of finally being able to relax and get treatment was enough for now. As he sat, Amos found his eyes wandering to the sleeping boy in the corner of the room.

He was the talk of camp and he didn't even know it yet, didn't know how many people already envied him. When he had heard the gossip, Amos had imagined some superhero-esque figure, but this kid just looked… small.

He had to have been fourteen, the same age as Amos, with messy hair and a light tan. He slept almost perfectly, like the way actors faked being asleep in movies; if it weren't for his open mouth, a small pool of drool staining the pillow, Amos would almost think he was faking it.

He huffed out a light laugh at the sight, The next great hero of Olympus, Amos thought sarcastically, just some kid knocked out and drooling in his sleep.

At the sound of his laughter, the sleeping boy’s eyes began to flutter. They made eye contact for the briefest moment, though the boy's green eyes were hazy and disoriented, before Amos turned away sharply. Way to make a first impression, staring creepily at the new kid while he sleeps. He wanted to slam his head against a wall in embarrassment.

When Michael came back in, Annabeth followed him and darted straight to the new kid, Amos had never been so pleased. He barely listened as the son of Apollo lectured on and on about how to treat his injury, simply nodding in agreement and taking the ambrosia offered to him. He was quick to dart away, pressing the button on his spear to make it small again and limping away to the Hermes cabin.

The Hermes cabin was, simply put, a mess. It wasn't their fault really, but there was no room for anything in the cabin, not when they took in all the unclaimed kids like Amos.

At this point, he was certain the unclaimed kids must have made up around half of the cabin. There were a lot of beds, and even with those some campers, like Amos, had to resort to sleeping bags.

His sleeping bag was just about the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. It was old and ratty and an ugly faded shade of neon yellow, but it was his, and at the very least it served him well. In the Hermes cabin, anyone’s possessions were fair game. The children of the messenger god were known for their sticky fingers and mischievous smiles, so Amos had to come up with innovative ways to protect his stuff.

It wasn't as though he had much anyway — he wasn't exactly dragging along souvenirs from foster homes and group homes — just his old tube of concealer, his spear, and an almost empty travel pack of baby wipes, but he still feared someone taking them. His spear and wipes would be easier to handle if one of the Hermes kids swiped them; they'd ignore the wipes and might mess with the spear, but they'd probably get bored of it after a while as they did with most things they stole, and he'd get it back soon enough. But the concealer? Amos dreaded to think what might happen.

Maybe it was his self-conscious nature or his memory of brutal teasing he had endured after being caught with the concealer by one of the older kids at the home, but Amos could never let anyone know that he owned makeup. He could practically hear the taunts, the mocking jeers he had become too accustomed to at the home.

Don't you look pretty Amos? Do you want us to braid your hair and dress you up next? I didn't know they made shades that dark! Aw, look we made the freak cry!

He couldn't deal with that again, he wouldn't. So he hid his things as best as he could, ripping a small hole in the interior of his sleeping bag and slipping his things in there.

When he reached the cabin it was mostly empty, much to his relief. It was nearly midday, after all, most of the campers would be out doing other things. Amos relished the silence, slipping into his sleeping bag that was tucked into the corner of the room. The throbbing pain in his foot had lessened, the ambrosia taking effect as the pain faded to more of a dull ache. He let the silence of the cabin wash over him as his eyes slipped shut. A nap would be nice, and it wasn't as though anyone would miss him at lunch or dinner, so Amos allowed himself to relax, drifting to sleep with his retracted spear tight in his grip.

Naturally, because Amos was just about the unluckiest kid in the world, after being knocked out for days, the new kid had chosen that day to finally wake up. Amos had been woken from his nap when the rest of the cabin returned from lunch, loud and boisterous like they always were. It wasn't long after that Chiron, the Athena girl, and the new kid had shown up.

Still slightly hazy from sleep, it had taken him a moment to really register what was happening. It wasn't until he heard Chiron speak that he snapped out of it, “Good luck, Percy, I'll see you at dinner.” He said, voice deep and authoritative as it always was. Everyone in the cabin had paused by this point, their undivided attention on the new kid — Percy, wasn't that a strange name… though Amos supposed he couldn't judge — multiple campers erupting into snickers as the boy tripped his way past the entrance.

Since everyone was staring, Amos took the time to observe the boy. He looked different than he did when asleep, more guarded. His dark hair was just as messy as it had been in the infirmary, but somehow he was able to make it look good, like those annoyingly perfect people who could roll out of bed and still look presentable. He was thin, but he didn't necessarily look weak — there was no way he could be, not when he had killed the Minotaur — simply lean. Percy's eyes were probably the most interesting thing about him. They were green, though Amos was sure there must have been bits of blue and grey in there, and shockingly intense. His gaze pinned Amos to his spot, leaving him staring like an idiot. He hadn't even realized when they made eye contact, but as the realization washed over him he turned his head away swiftly, lowering his gaze. Amos felt his face burn in embarrassment, and he had to fight the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why can’t I have normal, unembarrassing interactions with this kid? He whined internally, his eyes locked firmly on his hands.

He snapped out of his thoughts as the cabin broke out into groans. Ah, Amos thought to himself, He must be unclaimed then.

Luke began his usual spiel, the same one he gave to all new campers. Cabin Eleven takes visitors, Hermes is for travelers, blah blah blah. Honestly, when he first arrived at camp Amos had enjoyed it, but after hearing the same speech time and time again he had grown sick of it.

“You can take this spot on the floor, right over there.” He heard Luke say, voice louder as he grew closer, and Amos almost groaned.

Example number two of him having the worst luck: Luke had stuck Percy right next to Amos.

He was really starting to hate the new kid. It wasn't anything personal, not really — though Amos was still embarrassed by what happened in the infirmary… and what happened when Percy stepped through the cabin… Amos swore he wasn't some staring weirdo, things just kept happening around the new kid! — but he had grown to like his little isolated corner, not to mention the attention the new kid would draw, which meant Amos would probably be dragged in just due to his close proximity.

Still, he felt kind of bad for the kid as he began asking questions. “How long will I be here?” It was such a genuine question, one many of the unclaimed kids had asked, to themselves, to Luke, to each other… Amos had asked himself that question a month after being in the Hermes cabin, but the more time passed the more hope he lost. If his godly parent hadn't claimed him after three years, he doubted it would ever come.

“Good question,” Luke didn't sound patronizing or mean, though he had a certain glint in his eyes, like he had lost hope too, “Until you're determined.”

Percy's eyes darkened slightly, and Amos could practically see his frustration beginning to bubble to the surface, “How long will that take?”

The cabin burst into laughter, with even Amos letting out a light snicker. Wasn't that the question they all wanted to know?

Annabeth, who Amos had kind of forgotten was there, practically dragged the boy out after that, the laughter in the cabin not stopping even after they left. Well, at least Amos didn't have to worry about his first impression anymore; he was certain the rest of Cabin Eleven had done a much worse job than he had.

Chapter 2: apparently the no maiming rule was a lie

Chapter Text

Amos was right about the new kid being trouble. Since he had arrived at camp, Percy fought the Minotaur and won, and he had made the toilets explode. Amos wasn't sure how accurate that was, but it certainly became the talk of camp, especially considering that it was Clarisse who'd been the main victim of the toilet attack.

Clarisse was certainly a character, and honestly, he felt bad that Percy had to deal with her so early on. Being that he trained with a spear like she did, the two of them often crossed paths. She had never been extremely antagonistic towards Amos, which he supposed was a feat in itself, but she still sneered at him, laughing when he made mistakes with his spear. For the most part though, it was one of the times he was glad most people avoided him; as long as he kept his head down she and the Ares cabin never bothered him too much.

Speaking of keeping his head down, Amos was avoiding the new kid. He could just feel something coming; it was only a matter of time before Percy got involved in something crazy, and Amos did not want to get dragged into that. He spent most of his time wandering near the edge of camp, the place just before the forest grew thick and dark. The solitude was nice, a comfort for him almost, just the trees to keep him company. No one ever came looking for him — truthfully, he doubted they even realized he was gone — so he felt at ease as he slowly made his way to dinner that day.

By the time he reached the pavilion, most of the others were already sitting, just a few slow-moving campers and naiads lingering. He slipped towards his usual spot, only for his terrible luck to strike yet again. He had to hold in a groan at the sight before him. In his usual spot, Percy sat, with Luke by his side as he kept a watchful eye on the newbie.

Amos tried to slip in as discreetly as possible, silently moving towards the only slightly open spot, conveniently right across from Percy and Luke. He could feel the other boy's eyes on him, but before the new kid could say anything Luke spoke up. He raised a blonde brow at Amos, “You're late.”

Amos supposed he shouldn't be too annoyed. Luke tried to be a good counselor, which meant caring for all the campers, even the unclaimed ones like him. It was true that Amos often slipped through the cracks, able to skip out on things since most forgot he was there to begin with, but he didn't blame Luke for that, not really. Still, that didn't mean it wasn't irritating for him to suddenly have attention on him, especially since he was so used to doing his own thing. “I just… got held up.” He had to hold back a wince at how pathetic his excuse sounded.

To his credit, Luke just gave him a good-natured smile, with only the slightest hint of teasing, “Just try not to make it a habit, alright?”

Of course not, Amos had to hold himself back from retorting, Not like I don't do this literally every day.

Instead, he merely shrugged, keeping to himself as he spoke softly to his goblet, filling it with soda, and began piling his plate with food. He was last in line from Cabin Eleven for the sacrifice, watching as Luke coached the new kid through what to do. It was definitely one of the weirdest parts about camp, which was saying a lot considering they were all a bunch of superpowered, godly kids. When it was his turn Amos threw in two dinner rolls, “To whoever,” He murmured, too soft for anyone else to hear.

The sacrifices had always made him uncomfortable, never quite knowing what to do. When he had first arrived, he was so desperate to be claimed that each week he would dedicate his sacrifice to a different Olympian, trying to determine who his parent could be. He'd been in foster care for as long as he could remember, so Amos really didn’t have any clue about his godly parent, never knowing a mother or a father. It had made him feel aimless the first few months at camp. He tried at first to figure it out, he really, really tried. He prayed to the gods for ages, begging for any sort of sign, but eventually he just kind of… gave up. Amos took their silence as a sign itself; his godly parent didn’t want him, it was as simple as that. It had stung at first, but he figured it was what made the most sense — he wasn’t exactly an impressive child, not overly smart, or strong, or quick, just… him. He had given up on being genuine with the sacrifices after that realization; if his godly parent really did want him, or even if simply they wanted his sacrifices, then they should have claimed him.

Usually, Amos ate in silence, but naturally, as he did with seemingly everything so far, the new kid had to change things up.

“I'm Percy.” He had practically blurted out. When Amos looked up, he was surprised to see the boy’s green eyes locked on him. If he had looked closely, he would have seen the faint tint of red beginning to spread to Percy's ears. “Uh, I mean, you were there when they introduced me to the cabin…”

Amos nodded awkwardly, though internally he was freaking out a little. Couldn't Percy pick anyone else to talk to? Why did he have to bother socially inept Amos, who quite literally ran away from social interaction? Yet another example of him having the worst luck known to man.

A silence washed over them, but instead of being comforted by it like Amos usually was, it was just awkward. He thought Percy might get the hint and leave him alone, but either he was socially inept in a totally different way from Amos, or he simply didn’t care. “What’s your name?”

He gave the new kid a weak half smile, “Amos.”

“Are you unclaimed too?”

“Yup.”

Gods, Amos wanted to slam his head down on the table and put himself out of his misery. It was probably the most uncomfortable thing he had to deal with in a while. Percy didn’t seem to share the same disdain for their awkward conversation as Amos did, spending the rest of dinner talking, seemingly about nothing, while Amos gave him nods or the occasional one-word answer. The more Percy talked, the more Amos found he surprisingly didn’t mind it so much. He figured the other boy probably just needed to talk — it wasn’t exactly easy to adjust to camp. Even at the campfire later that night, the new kid had stuck close to him, and once they returned to the cabin, he had pulled his sleeping bag next to Amos, whispering a quiet goodnight before they fell into silence and drifted to sleep.

It was…odd, but Amos figured there were worse ways to pass the time. Besides, it wasn’t like the two of them were going to become best friends; Percy was just lonely. Amos was certain that it was only a matter of time before the new camper made some real friends, and then he could peacefully go back to his isolated routines. He just had to wait it out.

＊＊＊

Amos must have been more charismatic than he thought because Percy had seemingly decided that they would be best friends. After his first real day, Amos had expected Percy to branch out; he saw him trying all the different camp activities, a perfect opportunity to make friends, but day after day Percy had stuck himself to Amos like glue. He’d return from his Greek lessons with Annabeth and tell Amos all about how boring Homer was, he’d try something like wrestling and run to Amos complaining about how mean Clarisse was, he’d ask Amos what he did all day and listen patiently as Amos looked for ways to make hiding out in the woods sound less bizarre. He sought Amos out in a way that had almost turned into some sort of weird game, where he tried to hide from any and all living things, and Percy still managed to find him. It was like the other boy had some weird Amos-GPS. (Truthfully, he was sure it had to do more with the predictability of his hiding spots, and the fact that he didn’t necessarily mind it when Percy went to find him.) The only time he really left Amos alone was when he was with his satyr friend — he couldn’t remember his name, but Percy had told him all about their history together — which he honestly didn’t mind. Amos still liked his solitude after all.

As the days dragged on he could see Percy becoming more comfortable, and each day that passed Amos was certain that Percy would finally expand his circle, moving on to better friends. (Amos did not have abandonment issues, he was just being realistic!)

He thought for sure after he had heard about the sword-fighting incident when Percy had somehow disarmed Luke, that the other boy would move on. He certainly had the opportunity to. That, plus the minotaur, plus the bathroom incident had left Percy the talk of camp; Amos was sure other kids at camp were dying to speak with their new hero, but unfortunately for them, he was still determined to stick himself with the camp’s self-proclaimed hermit.

When Friday came, Amos wished he could become a literal hermit, that he could find a cave somewhere and just wait everything out. Noticing his mood, Percy kicked his new friend in the shin lightly at dinner that night, raising an eyebrow at the sullen boy. “What’s up with you?”

Amos huffed. “Capture the flag,” It was a miracle Percy heard him in the noisy pavilion. He stabbed at a piece of chicken, “I'm just not a fan…”

Percy furrowed his brows, “It’s just capture the flag. Do they like… get super intense about it here or something?”

Amos scoffed, “Intense is an understatement.”

Before they knew it, both boys had been swept away to prepare for the game. Percy had been dragged away by Luke, probably so that he could have everything explained to him, so Amos did what he always did before the game and lingered by the sidelines. The worst part about capture the flag was that with armor on and their weapons out, most of the campers looked pretty much the same. This meant that whatever special talent Amos had that made people avoid him didn’t work. All they saw was what side he was on, in this case the blue side, and he became just another camper. It was one of the only times he engaged in sparring — though sometimes the game got a bit too intense to refer to as simple sparring — hence his disdain for it.

Once everyone was dressed in armor (and after they had done some good-natured yelling and cheering which Amos refused to participate in) they began marching south. Up ahead, he could see Percy talking with Annabeth, trailing behind slightly with a growing frown on his face as she walked forward with purpose.

Feeling bad for the boy, Amos let out a sigh and followed him to his assigned spot by the creek. Percy was scowling, gripping his shield and sword awkwardly as he just kind of stood there. Amos saw him raise his shield as he approached, managing to give him a small smile as he came into view, spear gripped loosely in his hand. “Just me.” He said simply. In the back of his mind, he thought about how this was so not following his plan of allowing Percy to ditch him later on. He was almost starting to consider the other boy an acquaintance — not a friend, definitely not that.

Percy’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed slightly, only to jump as the conch blew, signaling the start of the game. “This sucks,” He complained, “I think I get why you hate it now.”

Amos snorted, “Probably not. This,” He gestured with his spear, waving it around slightly, “Is nice. The fighting? Not so much.”

Percy huffed, shrugging his shoulders lightly in an agree-to-disagree kind of way.

For a moment it was kind of tranquil, and Amos found himself letting his eyes slip shut as he let the silence wash over him. Of course, the moment he let his guard down is when his bad luck kicked in.

“Cream the punk!” Clarisse's yell echoed in the forest, and his eyes flew open as she and a handful of her siblings exploded out of nowhere. They were mostly focused on Percy, but being that Amos was there, he got caught in the crossfire.

One of her siblings went after Amos, keeping him busy while the others surrounded Percy. If he had been more athletic, perhaps all his hours of aimless wandering and casual training would have led to something, but with a thin frame and a tendency to hesitate, Amos wasn't exactly doing too well. He could hear the other campers laughing as one of them slashed their sword at Percy while the Ares boy fighting Amos swept his feet, sending him to the ground. He tried to keep his spear between them, some form of protection since he had dropped his shield early on in the fight, but the other camper grasped it with one hand, ripping it out of his grasp.

Amos yelled as the camper held him down, one arm against his neck, the other gripping his dreads tightly to keep him in place. In the corner of his eye he could see Clarisse and her siblings cornering Percy, pushing him towards the creek. He wished he could hear what they were saying, but he was too busy getting mocked by the camper holding him down.

“Sorry kid, collateral damage,” He sneered down at Amos. “Seriously though, you were f*cked as soon as you dropped the shield! I mean what kind of idiot-”

Percy seemingly getting super strength after getting his ass kicked distracted both of them enough to make the mocking stop. The Ares camper ran to help his siblings just in time for Amos to see Percy snapping Clarisse's spear.

He stayed on the ground for a moment in shock, watching Percy fight off four campers alone. He knew the guy must have had some skill, especially since he had defeated the Minotaur, but Amos figured hanging out with Percy had blinded him a bit. It was hard to associate Percy — who was obsessed with making all his food blue and whined to Amos about a million little things — with the person he saw before him. He watched with wide eyes as Percy smacked Clarisse in the forehead with the butt of his sword, falling into the creek herself. For a split second, it was like time stopped; Amos and Percy’s eyes locked, green meeting dark brown in an intense stare.

The yelling and cheering snapped them out of it as they turned to watch Luke race off with the red banner, Clarisse yelling in anger as she and her siblings tried and failed to catch up with the Hermes counselor. The entire blue team celebrated their victory, save for Percy still in the creek, and Amos still on the ground.

Shaking his head lightly to get a hold of himself, Amos scrambled up, grasping his spear tightly as he stumbled over to the other boy with wide eyes, “Percy,” He breathed out, “That was-”

“Not bad, hero.” Annabeth's voice came out of nowhere, startling both boys. She went from being invisible to visible as she removed her cap — Amos really wanted one of those, it'd make his little isolation sessions way easier — “Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?”

Suddenly Percy, who had still been in a bit of a daze, scowled. “You set me up.” He accused, green eyes turning stormy, “You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out.”

“I told you. Athena always has a plan.” Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly, flicking her braids over her shoulder. Percy did not like that, slowly getting more and more worked up.

“A plan to get me pulverized.” Where Annabeth was seemingly uncaring about the situation, Percy was far too worked up, his grip on his sword tightening. “And what about Amos,” He gestured to the other boy, who jumped at the mention of his name. “He got dragged into your little plan just because he was there!”

Annabeth didn't roll her eyes, but Amos would bet that she really wanted to. “I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in but you didn't need my help. And well…” She looked at Amos skeptically through the corner of her eye, and he suddenly got the feeling she was judging anything and everything about him. “That wasn't planned but it worked out anyway.”

He dreaded to think how much she had seen. Shame filled him as he realized that she must've seen him pinned down by the Ares boy. It was embarrassing. Percy, who'd been at camp less than a week could take on four campers at once while Amos, who'd been there for years already couldn't even take on one. He averted his gaze, no longer wanting to see her critical eyes.

Instead, his eyes zeroed in on the wound Percy had gotten. “Percy,” his eyes furrowed, “Your arm.”

“Huh?” The boy blinked at him, anger fading slightly into confusion and mere frustration. “The sword cut? What about it?”

“It's gone.”

Before the boy could protest, Annabeth interrupted, “He's right,” She stared at Percy as though he was some kind of puzzle. “It was a sword cut. It's gone now, look at it.”

The three of them stared with a mix of feelings — Annabeth analytical, Percy confused, Amos in awe — as what was left of the injury, a faint scratch, faded and disappeared into Percy's unblemished skin. The boy stammered for a moment, truly and utterly confused, before Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Step out of the water, Percy.”

Amos raised a brow at her (which was pointedly ignored) as Percy stepped forward, leaving the creek. The change was almost immediate. He went from bright-eyed and intense to hazy and exhausted. Amos was sure that the other boy would have collapsed had he not been there to help steady him, gripping his shoulders lightly.

By this point, Amos was kind of freaking out. Annabeth had seemingly connected the dots as she murmured to herself, “Oh, Styx. This is not good. I didn't want… I assumed it would be Zeus…” But both he and Percy remained in the dark. Whatever she had figured out, she didn't seem too pleased with, causing a burst of anxiety to rise up from Amos.

“What?” Amos urged, brows furrowed as his eyes darted from Percy to Annabeth, “What are you-”

The howl cut him off, and suddenly they were all thrown into chaos. Amos moved slightly in front of Percy, his spear gripped tightly in his hands and Annabeth did the same, pulling out a sword.

“Stand ready!” Chiron shouted in Greek, “My bow!”

The hellhound was huge. Amos had heard stories about them but he'd never really encountered them. Now that he was looking at one well… He was certainly glad he'd never encountered them before. The monster seemed determined to get Percy, bright red eyes locked onto the boy as it charged. Amos tried to push Percy away, standing together with Annabeth as if to block the beast as she yelled out for the other boy to run.

Their attempts were useless as the monster leaped at Percy. The archers took down the hellhound quickly, but not quick enough. Amos could only stare with worried eyes as he saw the boy still breathing, but injured badly.

“Di immortales!” Even Annabeth looked shaken up, eyes wide, “That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't… they're not supposed to…”

Amos shifted closer to Percy, eyes glued to the blood seeping from his friend's — he supposed after what had just happened he had to consider the boy a friend now, even though the thought alone made him nervous — chest. “That doesn't look good, you need ambrosia or-” His voice was soft, really only audible to Percy, Chiron, and Annabeth.

Apparently a kid bleeding out wasn't enough to warrant panic, because Chrion ignored him. “Someone summoned it,” It was so silent it almost felt like the centaur's voice echoed in the forest, “Someone inside the camp.”

A certain wariness filled Amos. People could be dumb at camp, they were kids after all, and kids did stupid things, but something like this? It went beyond a stupid mistake, beyond something that could be a prank. A sense of dread settled deep in his gut.

Murmurs broke out amongst the campers as they speculated, with Clarisse's loud voice overpowering them, “It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!”

If he were braver, Amos might have told her to shut up, but he was glad Chiron spoke up, albeit more politely than Amos would have worded it. “Be quiet, child.”

“You're wounded,” Annabeth said suddenly, as if she had forgotten. Amos bit his lip to prevent himself from uttering a quiet duh! “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

Normally he'd question this, but it was clear that she had figured something out earlier, that Amos bit his tongue. He stayed silent as she urged the other boy to step into the water.

The moment he did, Percy lit up again. His shoulders sagged with relief and he stood up taller. Everyone stared as the wounds began healing. Then it appeared, the shining light above Percy's head, the one Amos and all the other unclaimed kids longed for.

Amos felt his own jaw drop as gasps rang out. There was no way. He couldn't even be bitter or jealous about his new friend getting claimed so quickly because he was just shocked. It was unbelievable — literally, since this meant that Percy technically wasn't supposed to exist — but the green trident floating above his head was undeniable.

He didn't even notice that Percy had been speaking, only snapping out of his shock when Chiron spoke. “It is determined.” Following the lead of all the other campers, Amos knelt, “Poseidon, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

＊＊＊

Things after the claiming were weird. Percy was moved out of cabin eleven the next day, giving Amos a tight-lipped smile as he left their corner. Amos thought he would've been happy — he finally had his corner to himself again, but now it felt lonely. He'd grown used to the other boy rambling before bed and the sound of soft breathing beside him.

Part of him wanted to pull away. It had been his original plan after all, to let Percy branch out so that Amos could go back to his antisocial routine, but when he saw Percy, sitting miserably alone at the Poseidon table he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So Amos continued on, trying to act as normal as possible for his friend. Their positions had kind of flipped in a way. While the rest of camp avoided Percy and left him isolated, save for Annabeth and Luke, Amos sought him out. It was harder than he thought it'd be — it made him appreciate all the times Percy had gone looking for him — but he still tried, often finding Percy by the canoes. He let the boy vent, ranting about the way Annabeth's behavior had changed at their Greek lessons and the dirty looks Clarisse often gave him, just listening and nodding like he usually did.

Dinner was lonelier too, as Percy sat alone and picked at his food, while Amos reverted to sitting in silence. Still, Amos lingered behind once dinner was over, walking with Percy to cabin three.

Amos thought cabin three was really pretty. With coral and seashells on the outside walls and the persistent scent of the sea wafting in the air, it almost looked like something out of a drawing. He hadn't seen the inside, but he was sure it must've been equally beautiful. Part of him felt jealous, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. While Amos was stuck in cabin eleven, sleeping on the ground in a disheveled sleeping bag, Percy had a whole cabin to himself.

Amos tugged at the long-sleeved shirt he wore under the typical orange camp shirt — something he always did no matter how hot it was in order to hide the white splotches on his arms — as they walked in silence.

Percy broke it once they reached the cabin, almost as though he was hesitant to go in, “Thanks… For not treating me like some freak.”

His gaze flitted up towards Amos for a moment, green eyes darkened with mixed emotions, before he averted his gaze. Amos paused for a moment before reaching a hand out and resting it on his shoulder, startling Percy. “You're not a freak.” I would know, He couldn't help but think bitterly. “Everyone is just…” He struggled to find the words, “Surprised. Things will go back to normal in no time.” Amos was kind of lying, and he was sure Percy knew it. Him being a son of Poseidon wasn't exactly a minor deal. It meant something big was happening; everyone at camp felt it, the unbearable energy and anticipation in the air.

Still, Percy offered him a weak smile, “Yeah…Maybe.” He let out a soft sigh, “You should go back, you don't want to get caught out after curfew.”

Amos let his hand drop, shrugging lightly. “Yeah… Good night I guess,” Their gazes lingered for a moment before he turned to walk away, Percy murmuring a soft good night before slipping into his cabin.

When he reached Cabin Eleven everyone was settling down, the lights dimmed. Amos enjoyed the quiet, settling into his corner. He pulled his wipes out, wiping away the concealer he had dabbed onto his hands, but leaving what remained on his face. He could hide the vitiligo on his hands easily enough if he just slipped them under the sleeping bag, but his face was much too obvious. He'd hidden the condition for three years at this point, he wasn't slipping up now. Besides, he'd remove the makeup from his face when he showered in the morning when he would be able to reapply it in privacy.

When he was done, Amos settled in his sleeping bag, sleep overtaking him rather quickly.

Amos had never really had nightmares, at least not since he was small. The first couple of foster homes he remembered had mentioned that he had vivid night terrors for some time, but by the time he turned four, they had faded. Most nights he simply had a calm sleep, no happy dreams but no nightmares either.

This night was different. He dreamt of a storm at sea, the waves crashing and thunder booming. It was like he was floating in the ocean as he felt his body rocking with the violent waves, a disorienting feeling. Then the sea split open and he was falling, falling, falling…

A voice echoed in his mind. Let them fight, let them destroy each other.

Then he was drowning. It felt real, his lungs burning and limbs flailing as he tried to escape the feeling. This was wrong. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew the fighting was bad, something bigger than Amos. But he was helpless, drowning and dying and-

He sat up gasping for breath, heart pounding in his chest. Amos wasn't sure what was happening, it was dark, as though clouds were sitting right above camp. Then he heard a boom of thunder, and he was running. It was instinct, his body on autopilot as he burst out from the cabin, running straight to the Big House.

He ignored the strange stares of other campers and bolted for the porch where Chiron sat with a satyr — Percy's friend, his mind uselessly provided.

The centaur furrowed his brow, “Amos-”

“There was- I had-” He hunched over, hands resting on his knees as he gasped for breath.

“Sit,” Chiron ordered. Next to him, the satyr looked vaguely uncomfortable, but Amos couldn't find it in himself to care as he practically threw himself into the seat. “What happened?”

Amos relayed his dream, watching as both of them grew paler the more they heard his story. Sitting down and telling them his dream forced him to calm down, and suddenly Amos felt foolish. It was all a bit ridiculous, him running to Chiron just because he had some bad dream; everyone had bad dreams, Amos wasn't special. “Sorry,” He crossed his arms, trying to hide his hands as he became hyper-aware of the fact that they didn't have makeup, the white splotches more noticeable than ever. “It was… I'm probably overreacting. I don't know why I came here, I just…”

“No Amos,” The serious look on Chiron's face almost scared him. “This is no overreaction.” Before he could explain further, Percy came out of the house, eyes tired. The two friends stared at each other for a moment in confusion,

“What are-”

“Why-”

They both spoke at the same time, but Chiron put his hand out as if to tell them both to stop. He motioned for Percy to sit in a third chair. “Amos, Percy, the two of you have had… eerily similar dreams. Percy, what did the Oracle say?”

Amos felt his stomach drop at the mention of the Oracle. That meant a quest, and if he had the same dream… Dread filled him. He couldn't even take on another camper during capture the flag, they couldn't possibly expect him to go on a quest.

Percy told them the prophecy he had gotten, though honestly Amos was only half paying attention, too busy grappling with the possibility of going on a quest and still reeling from his dream. He heard enough though, something about going west and retrieving something.

He tuned back in as he heard about the Fury going after Percy. “A Fury? Are you serious?” Amos stared at his friend incredulously.

Percy shrugged as Chiron explained. “Yes. Furies only obey one lord: Hades. And there's the hellhound. Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest.”

“Great,” Percy voiced his thoughts, “There's two major gods who want to kill me.”

Amos felt his stomach drop as they continued discussing the quest and he began connecting the dots. Percy had to retrieve the master bolt… from Hades. Well, it was nice knowing the kid but there was no way he was surviving that, even if he was a son of Poseidon.

He didn't even realize he had been zoning out until Chiron addressed him. “Typically two companions may accompany you, but given that Amos had his dream-”

“What?” He cut off the centaur, eyes wide with fear, “You can't seriously think- I'm not cut out for a quest!” He shook his head adamantly.

Percy's eyes were sad as he looked at him, like he was sad that his new friend didn't want to go on a death mission, “I understand… Maybe-”

“I'm afraid not going isn't an option. Amos,” The hard stare he gave him made him shut up, “You had that dream for a reason. The fact that it was nearly identical to Percy's… You're meant to go on this quest.” Amos sagged in his seat. (Great, he didn't even have a choice. At the very least, Amos hoped that he wouldn't die an embarrassing death on this quest.) Chiron addressed Percy once more, “As I was saying, Amos will accompany you, and you've already chosen Grover as a companion, however-”

The air shimmered beside him as Annabeth appeared, a scowl on her face. “I am not missing out. I've been waiting a long time for a quest, Seaweed Brain,” She looked both him and Amos up and down. “Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up.”

Chiron sighed, “The rule of threes-”

“Has been broken before,” She cut him off, raising her chin stubbornly. “I'm going on the quest.” She spoke as though it were final, with no room for argument.

Percy raised a brow, “If you do say so yourself. I suppose you have a plan, Wise Girl?”

Her scowl deepened and her cheeks darkened, “Do you want my help or not?”

“The four of us,” Percy spoke, glancing at Amos for confirmation that he was going. Really, Amos wanted to slam his head into the table, or maybe find a cliff to dive off, but seeing as he had no choice he simply shrugged in confirmation. “That'll work.”

Chiron had given up on trying to prevent Annabeth from going, it seemed, “Excellent. This afternoon we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own.” A flash of lighting and the loud boom of thunder made Amos jump. “No time to waste,” Chiron urged, “I think you should all get packing.”

Wonderful, Amos thought to himself, Time to prepare for his imminent doom! He sighed. He really should have just stayed asleep.

Chapter 3: property damage, fun!

Chapter Text

By the time he went back to the cabin to get supplies, the gossip had spread. Amos supposed that maybe sprinting across camp to Chiron wasn't the most subtle thing he'd done.

The cabin was thankfully empty when he arrived, and since he had barely any possessions, packing was easy. He took an empty backpack — which could have honestly belonged to anyone, things like that always cycled throughout the Hermes cabin — and shoved three long-sleeved shirts, two pairs of jeans, and two camp shirts into the pack. Since he had time, Amos took the opportunity to shower. As it was past the morning rush, the bathrooms were mostly empty.

Not knowing what the quest would bring, Amos took a bit longer than usual in the showers, cleaning his skin of any concealer and grime that lingered. When he finished, he dressed himself quickly and made his way to the mirrors with caution.

The few campers that lingered before were gone now, much to his relief. As he stared at himself in the mirror, Amos sighed. His vitiligo had mostly stayed focused on his hands and legs, but as he grew older it only seemed to become more prominent. On his face, the most prominent spots were under his eyes, almost symmetrically placed near his tear ducts. He dabbed the concealer on the white skin, using a finger to blend it out. As he stared at his reflection, he felt a wave of bitterness rise up within him.

He hated that he had to do this, paint his face just so he could seem normal. But he supposed this was just who he was, Amos the freak who wasn't good enough for anything. He blended more of the makeup onto his hands.

When he finished, he stared at himself once more, taking in his tired dark eyes, his shoulder-length dreads, and his normal skin. Well, at least he finally felt like he looked like himself.

He left the bathrooms feeling refreshed, his backpack slung over his shoulder with the concealer buried safely in the bottom. As he made his way to the camp store to borrow some money, Luke stopped him. “Hey, Amos!” He jogged to catch up to the boy, one hand carrying a pouch, the other carrying a pair of shoes. “Here, I got you some stuff from the camp store,” He winked and shot him a charming smile, “Just don't tell anyone I swiped it alright?”

Luke handed Amos a small pouch filled with cash, drachmas, some more basic toiletries, and a deck of cards. “Thanks…” Amos would be lying if he said the actions of the older boy didn't surprise him. They had never really talked before, at least not after Luke had helped him adjust to camp when he first arrived.

“Come on, you're a little late so I'll walk you to the others!” He slung his arm over Amos' shoulder (which Amos kind of hated but he felt too uncomfortable to say anything) and joined the boy in his trek up Half-Blood Hill. “So, are you nervous? A quest is a big deal.”

Amos shrugged. “I…I guess. I never really thought I'd go on a quest to begin with. I'm not exactly the most skilled.”

Luke hummed thoughtfully, “Look, I won't lie and say quests are a walk in the park,” There was a touch of bitterness to his voice, and Amos couldn't help but think of his scar and his failed quest, “But you'll be in good hands, especially with Annabeth on your side.” He stopped Amos right before they reached Thalia's tree, “Listen, Amos, I know you're unclaimed, but as long as you're in the Hermes cabin I'm your counselor, so trust me alright? Don't worry so much about glory or anything like that, remember that you don't owe the gods any of that,” There was a certain weight to his words, a serious glint in his eye that made Amos pause. For a moment, it was like he was trying to convey some sort of message, but the moment disappeared in a blink. Luke patted his shoulder, smiling reassuringly, “Just do your best, you'll be fine. Now come on!”

They marched up the hill side by side, everyone else already there waiting for Amos. Maybe he had taken a little too long in the shower after all.

“Sorry! I held Amos up,” Luke shot everyone a smile, and Amos was surprised Annabeth didn't melt on the spot, “I'm glad I caught up with you guys though! I wanted to wish you guys luck and…” He turned to Percy, offering up the shoes he'd been carrying, “I thought maybe you could use these.” Percy examined the shoes with confused eyes, before dropping them in surprise as Luke uttered “Maia!” causing wings to sprout out of them.

The shoes flapped around for a moment on the ground, and Amos had the sudden thought that they looked a bit like fish out of water. They were all pretty amazed by the shoes, but Percy's satyr friend — Grover, he had finally learned his name — was most amazed, “Awesome!”

Luke smiled sadly, “Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days…”

Amos couldn't help but feel incredibly awkward — he was not cut out to be dealing with the older boy's emotions — but Percy seemed pleased at least.

His face tinted a light shade of red as he grew flushed, “Hey man, thanks.” Jeez, Amos thought to himself, Maybe Percy was just as socially inept as I am… Or maybe they were acting normal and I’m just the weird one.

Luke shifted slightly, looking a bit uncomfortable, “Listen, Percy… A lot of hopes are riding on you so just… kill some monsters for me, okay?” Not his best pep talk, but everyone else seemed happy with it so Amos internally shrugged. He didn’t really care too much either way, it was nice of Luke to try to reassure them all, but it wasn’t as though Amso himself had a close relationship with the older boy, at least not how Annabeth and apparently Percy did.

The older teen went on to say his goodbyes, patting Grover's head, shaking Percy's hand, and hugging Annabeth. When he reached Amos he clapped a hand on his shoulder, “Good luck,” He spoke simply, and then he went jogging back down the hill.

As they watched his figure get farther away, Percy spoke, his voice teasing and amused, “You're hyperventilating.”

“Am not.” Annabeth huffed, and Amos rolled his eyes as they bickered. He really hoped the entire quest wasn't like this.

After a dramatic, in Amos' opinion, conversation about the flying shoes — something about Percy not being able to fly because of Zeus, Amos honestly wasn't too sure, he was too busy wondering if he could still back out of this thing — which ended up with Grover wearing them and getting dragged around the lawn, they all got in the car. Percy fiddled with a pen while Amos stared out the window, zoning out.

This was real. He was really going on a quest, one he could die on. Amos pondered what might happen if he did die. He had no family, so they didn't have to worry about that, and his only friends were Percy and Gleeson. Considering they were on the same quest, Amos supposed Percy might die too, but for some reason, he didn't really think that was possible. The boy was like a walking miracle, the forbidden son of Poseidon who defeated the Minotaur and took on four Ares campers alone. Yeah, he'd be fine. If Amos died, Percy would just make new friends, and he'd just be a distant memory; Amos was fine with that, better distantly remembered than remembered for all his embarrassing moments. Gleeson on the other hand would probably be pretty upset, but Amos just hoped he'd get distracted by something else and forget about Amos too, that way it wouldn't upset him so much.

Pretty morbid, Amos thought, Maybe I should write a will.

When the car stopped and Argus — the security guard at camp, Amos figured the idea was with all his eyes he could see just about anything coming — let them out, he helped them with their bags and bus tickets, ensuring the kids were safe before he left with a silent wave. Or maybe it didn’t count as a wave since he was really using the eye on his hand to keep watch even as he got farther away… Whatever, the point was, Argus left and the four of them were alone now.

As Grover and Percy had their own conversation — they spoke in hushed tones, and the sad look in Percy’s eyes made him think maybe it wasn’t any of his business — Annabeth gave Amos a quizzical look. “You know I haven’t seen you around camp much. You’re a Hermes camper?”

Perfect, just what I need. Small talk.

Amos shrugged, “You wouldn’t have, I… prefer to spend my time alone.” He almost cringed as he said it. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, he only came off weirder. “And I'm not a Hermes camper, just unclaimed.”

There was an awkward tension in the air for a moment as Annabeth raised her eyebrows. She had a look in her eyes that Amos couldn't quite decipher, and he worried for a moment that things would suddenly become uncomfortable. Unclaimed campers were a sort of sensitive subject at camp; they received pity from lots of campers but hated it universally. Fortunately, Annabeth simply shrugged nonchalantly, “Oh, alright. So I've been wondering, how exactly does your spear work?”

After that they fell into a comfortable conversation, nothing too deep but nothing extremely superficial either. Eventually, Percy and Grover rejoined them, and the four kids ambled about as they waited for the bus to come. The weather was miserable that day, rain coming down relentlessly; he suddenly had the thought that this was a bad omen, but he tried to push that thought away. He didn't want to jinx them.

When the bus finally did come, the four kids stowed their bags and headed straight for the back, Grover looking over his shoulder anxiously the whole time. His nervous energy was rubbing off on Amos, and out of fear, he kept his spear in his jean pocket, too nervous to part from it.

Amos was ready to lean his head back and take a nap — gods knew he would need it, he was still kind of reeling from the fact that he was on a quest — but before his eyes could even slip shut, Annabeth's harsh whisper made him alert.

“Guys,” From her spot in between Percy and Amos, Annabeth gripped Percy's knee suddenly and elbowed Amos in the ribs. She motioned with her eyes towards the women who had just boarded the bus.

They were old, and wearing ugly velvet dresses with strange bright hats. Whatever fashion statement they were trying to make clearly failed, but despite how odd they looked none of the other passengers batted an eye. Amos almost elbowed Annabeth back — did she really just want them to look at their terrible outfits? — but then he saw the way all three women looked identical, and the evil glint in their eyes, and he suddenly remembered what they had talked about before leaving for the quest. Percy had been attacked by a Fury.

Furies. Amos almost felt like passing out. He was so not cut out for this.

“She didn't stay dead long,” Percy sounded like he was trying and failing at holding it together. Turning to Annabeth in an almost whining tone he spoke, “I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime.”

“I said if you're lucky,” She hissed back, “Obviously you're not.”

Beside the three demigods, Grover whimpered. “All three of them. Di immortales!”

“It's okay,” Annabeth's voice took on an authoritative tone, “The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows.”

Amos wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or them.

Grover groaned, “They don't open!”

Amos squeezed his eyes shut, “This is great,” He said sarcastically, *“*There's got to be some way out. A back exit? Emergency door?” He said hopefully.

The somber looks from the other three did not raise his spirits.

As the bus headed for Lincoln Tunnel, Percy spoke, “They won't attack us with witnesses around. Will they?”

“Mortals don't have good eyes.” Of course things weren't as simple as having witnesses, when were they ever? Amos might not have known much about living as a demigod outside of camp, since he had never left after he found out, but the Mist was one of the first things he had been taught about. “Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist.”

He tuned out the rest of Percy and Annabeth’s back and forth as all his brain could think of was a never-ending mantra of we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die. This, of course, was only made worse when the Furies began stalking towards them, their old voices crooning about the bathroom.

“I've got it,” The confidence in Annabeth's voice was reassuring, “Percy, take my hat.”

“What?”

“You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away.” It was a solid plan, Amos had to admit. He supposed Luke was right about how valuable Annabeth would be to them on this quest, she was surely the quickest thinker out of all of them.

“But you guys—”

She cut off Percy's protests swiftly, “There's an outside chance they might not notice us. You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering.”

“I can't just leave you,” Percy's eyes scanned the three of them, shining with guilt. Normally Amos would find it kind of nice — he was a firm believer that most people in the world were self-centered, far too concerned with their wellbeing; in the short time he had known Percy, the boy's kindness had made him seem like an outlier, the exception to all of Amos's negative thoughts — but in this instance they needed to move quick, and the Poseidon boy’s attitude was really dragging them down.

He looked at his friend with serious eyes, hoping to convey his urgency, “You have to. We’ll be fine, just follow Annabeth’s plan.”

Grover nodded in agreement, “Don't worry about us, go!”

As they watched Percy turn invisible and (hopefully) follow through with the plan, Amos braced himself. This was fine, everything was just great. Sure just a few days ago he got his ass kicked by one Ares camper, and yeah, he was about to face down against some seriously evil-looking old ladies who just so happened to be servants for one of the most powerful gods out there but… yeah who was he kidding, they were definitely toast.

As they approached, slowly becoming more and more monstrous, he pressed the button on his spear and held it out defensively. He gripped the handle tightly, hoping his nervous tremor wasn’t obvious.

The Furies unleashed their fiery whips, hissing in gravelly voices at the three of them who remained. Since Grover had no weapon, Amos and Annabeth had silently decided to keep the young satyr in between them, though he apparently had an arsenal of tin cans he was willing to sacrifice to defend them.

“Where is it? Where?” They spoke in an eerie sort of unison that reminded Amos of creepy horror movies. The unison combined with their gravely voices reminded him of some sort of demonic possession. One of them drew back her whip, but before the hit could land, the whole bus lurched.

All the passengers were screaming now, what they were seeing Amos didn’t know, but it must have been pretty gnarly. The Furies continued their hissing, and his palms began to grow sweaty with anxiety. Seemingly always ready for action, Annabeth looked fierce with her dagger, “He’s not here! He’s gone!”

If he was braver, Amos might’ve joined in her shouting, but instead, he hesitated, eyes darting nervously between the three monsters. He almost considered praying to the gods for help, but then the bus lurched once more and he found himself colliding with Annabeth. It was a mess, everyone yelling frantically and scrambling in their seats. In the commotion Amos dropped his spear, cursing as he threw himself to the ground after it. The bus spun out of control and he clenched his eyes shut as a wave of motion sickness approached — Amos had been worried about getting killed by monsters, but apparently, he should’ve been more worried about incompetent, possibly drunk bus drivers.

When it finally stopped, Amos rose on shaky legs as the mortals fled, his body sore from being tossed around. Since he had separated from Annabeth and Grover, the Furies had split up in turn, one focused on Amos while the other two teamed up against the others.

The Fury cracked the whip at him, and Amos just barely had time to use the length of his spear to block. He felt the heat radiating off of the fiery whip and for a moment he held his own. It was almost like a dance, the way he was fighting; an uncoordinated, awkward dance, but a dance nonetheless. He dodged and ducked out of the way, trying to rely on his instincts to keep him going. But Amos wasn't a fighter, not really, so when he was just a bit too slow to move out of the way, the flaming whip grazed his right hand. The burn made him yelp, dropping his spear reflexively. Of course, that's when Percy decided to reappear. Amos wasn't sure how he felt about this seemingly becoming a habit, with Amos continuing to miserably lose fights and Percy coming to save the day.

He probably should've felt a bit embarrassed that the new kid was already miles better than himself, but in this moment all he felt was relief. Where Percy had been hiding he wasn't sure, but he stood at the opposite end of the bus, brows furrowed. “Hey!”

As the Furies turned their attention to him, hissing and crawling around in a way that only further reminded Amos of horror movies. Seriously, the creepy speech and generally evil vibes were bad enough, now they were crawling along the walls and seats like freaky lizard creatures. With the attention off of them, Amos regrouped with the others. They nodded at each other as Percy kept the Furies busy, and slowly they began inching their way towards the monsters.

Amos tightened his grip on his spear — he really needed to keep his grip on it now, it was bad enough that he had dropped it once, he'd probably evaporate out of embarrassment if he dropped it again — as they watched Percy uncap his pen and it transformed into a glittering sword. Vaguely, Amos recalled Percy playing with it on the car ride to the bus stop, and he was suddenly very grateful the other boy hadn't uncapped it in the car; becoming a shish kabob wasn't exactly on his to-do list.

Seeing the sword, the Furies hesitated, and Amos raised an eyebrow at the sight. It wasn't celestial bronze they were hesitant about, after all, they had attacked Annabeth and himself pretty mercilessly earlier. He supposed maybe Percy just looked intimidating, and if that was the case he felt just a little insulted. Sure he had dropped his spear, but he could be plenty intimidating too! Not to mention Annabeth could be downright scary if she wanted to.

Despite their apparent caution towards Percy, the monsters were unrelenting, “Submit now,” One hissed, her hand tightening on the whip, “And you will not suffer eternal torment.”

“Nice try,” Percy's nonchalant attitude in the face of possible death was almost something to be admired if it wasn't so idiotic.

A lot of things happened at once, and if it weren't for his weird demigod instincts, Amos would surely be dead. One of the Furies lashed her ship at Percy, and as he began fighting, it looked like Annabeth was trying to borderline tackle one of them.

(Later, Amos would look back at this moment and laugh, because really, how ridiculous must they have looked to the mortals? A bunch of twelve-year-olds attacking a group of frail-looking old ladies. How could anyone not laugh at that).

As Annabeth and Grover struggled with that Fury, Amos had his own to deal with. This time, he felt more prepared to deal with the monster, being quicker to dodge in a way that almost made him seem agile. His newfound ease seemingly caught the monster off guard, and he was quick to take advantage of this as he spun his spear in a way that made him look much more capable than he really was and jabbed it into her.

Percy had dealt with his own Fury already, which meant there was just the one remaining. Grover tore the whip from her hand as Annabeth held her, ignoring the monster as she hissed angrily, “Zeus will destroy you! Hades will have your soul!”

In a moment of what Amos assumed must've been frustration, Percy's brows furrowed as he yelled angrily, “Braccas meas vescimini!”

Amos couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. He had no clue what it meant, but it sounded kind of cool, so he figured it was some sort of insult. Honestly, leave it to Percy to start throwing Latin insults at one of the extremely powerful, scary looking personal servants to Hades; he was seriously starting to question his friend's self-preservation instincts.

A boom of thunder was enough to snap them all into action once again as the bus shook, and Amos could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck.

Annabeth's dark eyes widened, “Get out! Now!” It was a miracle they all made it back in time. Amos pressed the button on his spear reflexively, reverting it back to its small tube and gripping it tightly in his hand as chaos erupted around them.

The mortal passengers were a mess, everyone screaming and arguing, with one tourist taking pictures of seemingly everything. The four of them tried to blend in with the chaos for a moment, catching their breath before the realization dawned on Grover.

“Our bags!” Amos felt his eyes widen as he realized what the young satyr meant. Their supplies, the ambrosia, the money, and more important to him, his concealer, all left behind on the mess of a bus. “We left our-”

Amos felt his ears ringing after the lightning struck, exploding all the windows on the bus. The ringing made it hard to hear, but he could faintly make out the wailing of the last remaining Fury.

“Run!” Annabeth's eyes were frantic, “She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!”

They ran away fairly quickly, leaving behind the burning bus, and headed straight for the dark, eerie, not at all ominous woods. This quest was definitely going to be the death of him, Amos was certain. If this was the starting point, how much worse were things going to get? (The answer, naturally, was way, way worse).

Chapter 4: don't talk to strangers, kids

Chapter Text

Once the shock of the situation wore off, things were pretty miserable. It was rainy and cold, and on top of the weather making him feel like sh*t, Amos was panicking internally. Maybe his priorities were out of whack, but all he could think about was his tube of concealer, forever lost thanks to the bus explosion.

As they walked, he pulled the sleeves of his shirt down to cover his hands slightly, protecting the makeup that remained.

How am I supposed to cover the spots now? The hands I could maybe hide but my face… His mind raced as they walked. The idea of telling the rest of them the truth, admitting that he'd been hiding these ugly pale splotches, made him tense. He could imagine their reactions clearly.

Annabeth would wrinkle her nose at him, I knew there was something weird about you. Grover would give him a fake smile and try to be nice about it, telling him Oh it's not that bad, but there would be disgust in his eyes, Amos just knew it. And Percy… He dreaded his reaction the most. The son of Poseidon, his first friend, would frown, You were hiding this the whole time? I mean I get why you would, it's gross and the makeup is bad enough, but you're a liar too?

Amos felt his heart clench at the thought. No. He was resourceful, he'd come up with a way to hide it. His companions on the quest could never know, he'd never let them.

Grover’s fearful voice snapped him back to reality. “Three Kindly Ones. All three at once.” All four of them were out of sorts, cold, and in shock. Amos could barely muster up a reply, merely shaking his head as he thought about the fight they'd just been in. Percy was in shock too, moving forward silently with wide eyes, like he couldn't believe that had happened either.

Annabeth was the only one keeping things going. “Come on! The farther away we get, the better.” She ushered them along with an agitated look.

“All our money was back there,” Percy spoke up. His eyes were still wide, almost spooked, “Our food and clothes. Everything.”

Wonderful reminder, Amos thought to himself, Not like we're barely holding it together as is.

What Percy had been attempting to get across, he wasn't sure, all he did know was that it irritated Annabeth tremendously.

“Well, maybe if you hadn't jumped into the fight-”

“What did you want me to do? Let you all get killed?”

Their bickering was starting to get unbearable, and Amos shared a pained look with Grover. If this was what the quest would be like, Amos wondered if he would've been better off letting the Furies kill him.

Annabeth furrowed her brow, “You didn't need to protect me, Percy, we would've been fine.”

“Sliced like sandwich bread, but fine.” Grover interrupted cheekily.

She rolled her eyes, though her words were slowly losing their heat, “Shut up, goat boy.”

Despite really not wanting to get between the feuding demigods, Amos felt bad letting Grover play peacemaker all alone. “Look, we can argue about it all day, but it won't change what happened.” He played with the retracted spear in his hands nervously, a habit meant to ground him. “It sucks that we lost everything, but we all could have literally died, so I think we ended up with the best result, all things considered.” His words dripped with slight sarcasm, because really, for as much as he was internally panicking about the lost supplies, they were lucky to all make it out relatively unscathed — the burn on his hand hurt, but Amos could handle it, he was mostly just grateful to still have a hand. “What we should be focusing on is deciding what we need to do next.”

Begrudgingly, Percy and Annabeth both nodded, and they fell into a brief silence as they trudged through the mud. Honestly, Amos was surprised that his words had worked. He had never been the most persuasive person around, and his limited people skills certainly didn’t help either, but the bickering had stopped at least, and that was enough for now.

After a moment the two demigods slowed their pace to walk together, speaking softly in what he hoped were words of apology; he wasn't sure he'd be able to play peacemaker the entire quest. As they walked, Amos couldn’t help but feel utterly lost — literally and metaphorically.

With the adrenaline rush gone, the pain from his burn was beginning to flare up, as well as the fear and anxiety he’d been holding in. More than anything, he wished Gleeson was there. The older satyr may not have been a traditionally comforting figure, what with his love for things dying and his tendency for violence, but Amos missed him all the same. It was reassuring to have him around; he could still remember a few years ago (though really it felt like a lifetime ago) when the satyr rescued him from the group home. Gleeson had taken care of him, even when he’d been stupid and tripped over his own two feet, spraining his ankle. He was a bit rough, often tossing Amos over his shoulder — which he made the satyr swear to never tell anyone — and dragging him around as he attempted to beat things with his club, but he still took care of him, practicing nature magic to help his injuries, reassuring him, making him feel safe. It was the first time he remembered being cared for like that.

Though the memories sent a bitter ache through him as he thought about how much he missed his friend, it did at least remind him of something. He turned to Grover with a curious look in his eye, breaking the brief silence between the two of them, “Do you know any nature magic?”

At this, Grover perked up, “Yeah, a bit! I'm not as skilled as some of the others but…” He scrunched up his face for a moment as he dug around in his pocket, “Aha!” He pulled out reed pipes, looking over them for a moment before blowing into them experimentally. Amos thought the pipes were broken by the sound it made, a deafening screeching noise that made him wince, but the smile on Grover's face told him it was supposed to sound like that. “My reed pipes work! If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!”

The others brightened considerably at the news, and Amos felt himself smiling lightly. He could not wait to get out of this miserable forest. Holding out his burnt hand, his faint smile turned sheepish, “Are you any good at healing? I know Gleeson can-”

Percy promptly walked into a tree, cutting him off with a loud groan. As all eyes turned to the boy, Amos could just barely make out the faint pink spreading to the tips of his ears. Brushing himself off as though nothing happened — though Amos was sure the bump on his head would bruise and ache in the coming days — Percy’s green eyes turned to Amos, his stare oddly intense. “You got hurt? Why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyes locked onto the burnt hand, and his fingers twitched, almost like he was holding back from grasping it to get a better look. Amos really didn’t think the burn was all that bad. It wasn't his whole hand that was burnt, mostly just the back of it, right below his knuckles. By the looks of it, it was a second-degree burn and a mild one at that. The skin looked almost shiny, and just a bit swollen, with small blisters. It might peel as it healed, and it'd be painful to hold his spear for a little while but considering he was hit by a whip made of literal fire, he thought the outcome wasn't too bad.

The way Percy looked at it made him feel like it was worse though. A faint wave of guilt and embarrassment washed through him. “Uh,” Amos struggled to find his words, suddenly flustered as all three of his companions stared at him with varying emotions. “We don't have ambrosia or nectar anyways, so there was no point.” He tried to justify, though the way Annabeth raised an eyebrow and Percy frowned made him feel like it wasn't convincing, “Besides, it isn't too bad.”

Ever the pacifist, Grover interjected before Percy — who had opened his mouth to argue, glaring at the hand like he wanted to set it on fire — could say anything. “I'm not the best at healing but I can try to help a little.” He played a short melody, which Amos swore was from Mozart, though it certainly sounded different when played through the screeching reed pipes.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was actually helping; the skin was still stinging and irritating, but he’d never actually admit that, especially not with the stares he was getting from his quest mates. Desperate to diffuse the situation and move on Amos simply smiled. “Thanks, it feels a lot better,” He lied. Turning to Percy with raised eyebrows, his smile turned slightly teasing, “Happy now? I'll be good as new in no time.”

The son of Poseidon narrowed his eyes a bit in suspicion but ultimately was satisfied with the performance.

They continued walking for another mile, complaining and muttering curses the whole way until they came across a neon sign. The smell of food lingered in the air, and Amos felt his mouth-watering. He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure it was real and not some sort of mirage. The four of them paused for a moment, staring at the building ahead of them.

It was bizarre, that's for sure. The area was deserted, no people or other open businesses in sight, which probably should have set off some alarm, but in Amos’ defense the food smelled really good. Weird little garden gnomes flanked the entrance, and through some hedges, Amos could make out even more bizarre statues. The neon sign flickered, bathing them in a faint red glow, though the words were impossible for him to discern.

Apparently, Percy shared the same struggle, “What the heck does that say?” He furrowed his brow as though frowning at the sign would somehow make it legible for them.

Amos shrugged as Annabeth spoke, “I don't know.”

Grover — their savior, the only one of them who wasn't dyslexic — read the sign. “Aunty Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium.”

“Is there really a big enough demand to justify a whole store for these things?” Amos stared at the ugly looking statues with a raised brow.

The smell of food wafted towards them once more, a delicious smelling distraction, and the three demigods moved forward as though in a trance. Annabeth rose onto the tips of her toes, peeking through the dingy windows, “The lights are on inside,” She pointed out, “Maybe it's open.”

The thought alone was enough to make his mouth water. They did lose all their supplies after all, might as well take advantage of food if it was available.

Percy seemingly agreed, “Snack bar…” He said wistfully.

“Snack bar,” Annabeth affirmed, like they were both possessed by some weird spirit hungry for greasy food.

Vaguely, Amos could hear Grover protesting, but the rumbling of his stomach was loud enough to drown him out. “It doesn't hurt to try knocking.” He said, feet carrying him to the warehouse door. Grover bleated in the background (something about an uncle? Amos wasn't listening) as Percy's hand reached up and knocked.

“I smell monsters.” Grover attempted, but the three demigods merely exchanged exasperated looks.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, “Your nose is clogged up from the Furies. All I smell are burgers. Aren't you hungry?” Despite the slight teasing tone in her voice, Grover's frown only deepened, and even Amos winced. He'd forgotten about satyrs being vegetarian plenty of times when talking to Gleeson, and each time resulted in the man giving him an annoyingly long lecture about the benefits of the diet.

Grover was equally irritated by the concept, but Amos was just glad he wasn't as overtly passionate about it as the older satyr, “Meat!” His brows furrowed, “I'm a vegetarian.”

Percy gave his friend a weird look, “You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans.”

“Those are vegetables. Come on,” The satyr pleaded, “Let's leave. These statues are looking at me.”

The demigods never got a chance to retort as the door opened with a loud creak. The woman at the door looked kind, even if they couldn't see her fully as she wore a modest gown and a veil. Even her face was covered, thin black fabric making it so they could just barely see the glint of her eyes.

Her voice sounded kind, with a gentle lilt in her words and a slight accent, “Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?” The concern in her voice sounded so genuine that Amos felt kind of bad that they’d have to lie to her.

The feeling was mutual apparently, as Annabeth struggled to explain. “They’re… um…”

“We’re orphans,” Percy jumped in. The word made Amos flinch slightly, reminding him of all his years in group homes when he was called just that. He hated the word, but he supposed it fit them best, with his mortal parent presumably dead and Percy’s mother having died on his way to camp; he wasn’t sure about Annabeth, but demigods never did have happy origin stories.

The woman looked properly concerned for them, as though them being orphans was a fate too harsh for her to imagine, “Orphans? But, my dears! Surely not!”

Apparently thinking he was on a roll, the son of Poseidon just couldn’t stop. “We got separated from our caravan. Our circus caravan,” Annabeth, Grover, and Amos exchanged looks. “The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we’re lost. Is that food I smell?” It was like word vomit, the way the boy couldn't seem to stop telling the ridiculous story.

“Oh, my dears! You must surely come in, poor children,” She ushered them forward, fretting over them much like a grandma might, “I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area.”

They shuffled forward after thanking her, and Amos nudged Percy lightly with his elbow, “Real subtle,” He said, “Couldn’t you just say we got lost and leave it at that?”

Percy flushed lightly in embarrassment. On the other side of him, Annabeth nodded in agreement. “Seriously, a circus caravan?”

“Well… it’s always good to have a strategy… right?” He smiled sheepishly, and the other two demigods simply exchanged a look. Percy may have been a good fighter, but thinking quickly on his feet was definitely not his strong suit.

“Your head is full of kelp.” Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she didn’t seem too genuinely annoyed, more exasperated than anything.

“I don’t know,” Amos teased his friend, his mood rising now that the promise of food was almost within reach. “I think it might be full of barnacles instead.” He laughed lightly as Percy shoved him in response.

The three demigods were so caught up in themselves and their desire for food that they missed all the warning signs — an embarrassing amount of warning signs really — tuning out Grover’s pleas for them to leave and missing the generally freaky energy Aunty Em gave off.

The older woman ushered them to seats, and Amos had to resist letting out a sigh of relief as he plopped down. The walk was long, alright? Sitting in that chair was the best he'd felt since they started the quest!

Thoroughly distracted, the issue of money didn't pop into his mind until Grover brought it up. “Um,” His voice sounded nervous, as though this little old woman could do anything to harm them; that'd be crazy. “We don't have any money ma'am.”

She waved her hand as though to dismiss them, “No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans.”

They all relaxed — well, maybe not Grover, who was still looking around anxiously — giving each other pleased smiles. Maybe this quest won't be so bad, Amos thought to himself. Later he'd curse himself; he really needed to remember that words like that only brought them bad luck.

Annabeth thanked the woman politely, and Amos could have sworn the older woman stiffened, the barely visible glint in her eyes under the veil turning sharp, but then he blinked and she was the same kind, helpful woman she had been before. “Quite alright, Annabeth… You have such beautiful eyes, child.”

The interaction had Amos furrowing his brows. It was certainly… strange, to say the least. He couldn't remember them introducing themselves, but maybe they had? Maybe the rush of the quest was simply clouding his brain, making him forget. Before he could dwell on the interaction, the woman left to prepare their food, and he was swiftly distracted by all the pleasing smells.

Once the food was placed in front of them they practically devoured it. Amos was in the middle of shoving fries in his mouth — handfuls at a time, obviously, what other way is there to eat them — when Grover spoke up again, his voice anxious. “What’s that hissing noise?”

His mouth full of food, Amos merely shrugged. He didn’t hear anything, and judging by the clueless looks on their faces, neither did Percy and Annabeth.

“Hissing?” Aunty Em (who Amos had forgotten was there) said, “Perhaps you hear the deep fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover.”

He gave the old woman a nervous laugh, “I take vitamins. For my ears.”

“That’s admirable, but please, relax.”

It was an odd interaction for sure, one that had Amos sitting up a little straighter and looking on with sharper eyes. At first, Aunty Em had seemed like a simple, sweet old lady, perhaps even comforting, but now Amos was sure he could detect the slightest shift in her voice. What had seemed sweet now felt abrasive. It reminded him of the social workers at one of the group homes he’d been cycled through; kind and gentle until they changed their tune without warning, quickly growing sick of him and all the other kids.

As Percy made pleasant small talk with the woman, Amos watched, acutely aware that something was weird even if he didn’t know what exactly.

“Oh yes,” Aunty Em said in response to Percy asking about her business, “I sell gnomes, and animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know?”

“A lot of business on this road?” Gods, this is kind of painful, Amos groaned internally, Percy’s small talk might actually kill me.

Aunty Em seemed unbothered by the awkward tone in the boy’s voice, “Not so much, no. Since the highway was built… most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get.”

Amos held back a comment pointing out her contradictions. It was popular yet she got no business? It might’ve been a simple slip-up, but this coupled with the off feeling that almost overwhelmed him amplified his sense that there was something off.

As Percy continued chattering with the woman, Amos nudged Annabeth lightly with his elbow. She glowered at him for a moment, staring at him as though interrupting her while eating was the worst crime imaginable. Normally, he would back off — confrontation was never his strong suit and she seriously didn’t look happy — and maybe it was paranoia and anxiety settling in, but something told him they were in for a lot more trouble than they expected.

He struggled for a moment, trying to decide how to convey his worries without drawing attention to them. Eyes darting to Percy for a moment, making sure he was keeping the woman distracted, Amos tried not to cringe as he whispered, “Omething’ssay eirdway erehay.” His face burned in embarrassment, he couldn’t believe this was what he was resorting to but… desperate times call for desperate measures.

Being fluent in Pig Latin wasn’t exactly an accomplishment. He had picked it up from other kids in the group home, listening to them talk to each other and practicing on his own. Secretly, he had practiced with the hope that one day he'd be able to use it with a friend, their own secret language. The older he got, the more this wish became a bitter memory, but at the very least now he hoped it would work as a way to communicate discreetly.

Unfortunately, Annabeth didn't share his knowledge of the language, “What?” She hissed, brows furrowed and her face scrunched in confusion.

It really took a lot of effort for Amos to hold back from slamming his head down on the table.

Before he could try to explain, Aunty Em interrupted. “Everything alright, dears?”

Amos froze, shoulders tensing as he held his breath. She still stood closest to Percy — who was giving both Amos and Annabeth strange looks — but Amos felt like she was leaning towards him, invading his space in a way that made him uncomfortable. Before his silence could become too noticeable, Annabeth stepped in, giving the woman a polite smile, “He was just saying how good the food was. Thank you again.”

“Oh, you're very welcome children.” She relaxed, and in turn so did Amos, slowly letting out a deep breath. It was agitating, the fact that he couldn't figure out why exactly the older woman put him on edge, but it was sending his fight or flight response into overdrive. “I appreciate your company so very much. It can be very lonely here.” Her voice turned forlorn, “Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company.” Goosebumps rose over his skin as her voice shifted once more, just the slightest bit, “But now you are here, keeping me company.”

What part of her speech had triggered it, Amos wasn't sure, but something Aunty Em had said made Annabeth's eyes dart towards Amos for a second, sitting up straighter and looking more alert. “Two sisters?”

Aunty Em hummed lightly, “It's a terrible story, not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a… a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart.” Though they couldn't see her eyes, the sharp tone she directed towards Annabeth had Amos stiffening, “She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually, they passed on. They faced away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price.”

It was starting to get way too freaky for Amos to handle, the old woman's sob story making him remember something, but he wasn't quite sure what. It was on the tip of his tongue, annoyingly familiar yet just out of reach.

Percy was the only one of them not disturbed by the woman at this point. His eyes drooped slightly as he relaxed, so naturally Amos elbowed him in the ribs, trying to wake him up.

It made the boy jump, turning to Amos with a scowl, but Annabeth kicked his leg before he could open his mouth, “Percy? Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting.”

His green eyes stared at them in confusion, and Aunty Em leaned slightly towards Annabeth, “Such beautiful eyes. My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen eyes like those.” Her hand reached out, as though to touch the girl.

Jerking away, Annabeth stood up, “We really should go.”

“Yes!” Grover exclaimed. Maybe that was why he and Percy were such great friends, they both lacked subtlety. He stood up after eating some wax paper, “The ringmaster is waiting! Right!”

Not wanting to ruffle any feathers, Amos gave the older woman a strained smile, “Thank you for your hospitality, but we really should be leaving.” He grasped Percy's arm as he stood up, practically dragging the boy with him.

“Please, dears,” Aunty Em pleaded, sounding so sad Amos almost gave in, “I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?”

Pose? Amos thought to himself, Yeah, that's not freaky at all. Why would she make statues based on three random kids?

Annabeth seemingly thought the same. “A pose?”

“Photography. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children.” Aunty Em's words did not help her case in his eyes, because really, what sort of reasoning was that? (He did not want to think of her clientele, who were apparently so into kids they would take random statues of some.)

Amos shook his head as Annabeth spoke, “I don't think we can, ma'am.” She grasped Percy's other arm, as though she and Amos were going to drag him out of there by force if they had to, “Come on, Percy-”

“Sure we can,” He glared at the two of them, shaking them off and giving the woman a kind smile. “it's just a photo, what's the harm?”

Percy may have been his friend, but Amos was seriously considering jabbing him with his spear — just a little bit. Now, Amos was no expert in all things quests and fighting, but the first thing Gleeson had taught him when he brought him to camp, was that demigods should always trust their guts. And right now, his guts were screaming at him to get out of there as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, with no counterargument, Amos, Annabeth, and Grover dragged their feet as the woman led them and Percy to the garden of statues, directing them to a bench.

“I'll position you. You two,” She pointed at Amos and Annabeth, “Sit in the middle, the other boys on either end.” It was eerily quiet, the wind, and Aunty Em's general creepiness, making him shiver slightly.

“Not much light for a photo,” Percy remarked, only worsening Amos' nerves as he looked around, observing their surroundings and the woman. It was strange, the setup. It was dark, and not exactly nice scenery, what with all the strange statues lying about, not to mention-

“Where's your camera?” Grover voiced his thoughts, but she ignored him.

“The face is the most difficult part,” Amos couldn't help but look towards the statues surrounding them faces filled with shock or horror, or both. It made the feeling of familiarity clear again. This was…something, he had heard of this before, he was sure of it but it refused to surface from the depths of his mind. “Can you smile for me please, everyone?”

Grover turned his head to the side, examining one of the statues and muttering under his breath, “That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand.”

“Grover,” The old woman's voice was sharp, “Look this way, dear.”

“Percy, something's wrong.” Annabeth tried again, shaking him lightly.

Amos nodded and let out a shaky breath, “We should really go.” He agreed. Percy's eyes, still sleepy and relaxed, struggled to focus on the other demigods, and just when it seemed as though he might refocus, the woman interrupted again.

“I will just be a moment,” Aunty Em said, “You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil…”

Alarm bells were ringing in his mind as she reached to unwrap the fabric.

“Annabeth's right,” Amos tried getting through to Percy again, his instincts telling him to grab his friends and run, “There's something wrong-”

“Wrong?” Aunty Em said, voice cold, “Not at all, Amos. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?”

The sound of hissing suddenly filled the air, and his eyes became wide as his mind finally clicked, placing why she was so familiar.

Aunty Em. Oh, this was really not good…

Chapter 5: nothing like a bunch of angsty teens

Chapter Text

To say that chaos erupted would be an understatement. One moment they were all sitting there, eyes wide, the next they were scrambling, with Annabeth shouting, “Look away from her!” She pushed them off the bench with a harsh shove, urging them to scatter.

Amos was quick to follow, pulling out his spear, hands shaking lightly as he picked a direction and ran. He didn't go too far, since they sort of had to deal with a famous, extremely powerful monster again. Seriously, the luck that the four of them had was unreal, he couldn’t believe they were dealing with yet another legendary, super deadly murderous monster. Amos stayed close enough to hear what was happening, hiding behind some statues, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. This is fine, totally fine, Amos tried to calm himself, though he was nearing hysteria, It's just Medusa, one of the most infamous monsters who can turn all of us to stone with a glance. Totally fine.

A shout from Annabeth pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't have time to freak out, he could do that later once they were safely away from the gorgon, but now he had to act. The thought wasn't comforting, taking action was never really his strong suit. Still, he risked a glance, eyes quickly focusing on Percy, whose dazed form was on the ground, seemingly talking with the monster.

Amos couldn't hear what was being said, though he did hear Gorver's strained shout, “Percy! Duck!” and watched in surprised amusem*nt as the satyr whacked Medusa over the head with a branch, hovering in the air thanks to the shoes Luke had given Percy (which Amos had admittedly forgotten about).

Weighing his options, Amos put away his spear, reverting it back to the small tube and slipping it into his pocket, instead choosing to follow Grover's example, picking up a long branch. Medusa really should clean up the space, Amos thought to himself, as though the garden's only purpose wasn't to lure in victims and store their statues.

He moved forward with light feet, thankful for Grover distracting Medusa. When a hand gripped his shoulder, Amos let out a soft — humiliating — yelp, and his face burned as he turned to look at Annabeth, the girl becoming visible once more as she took off her Yankee's cap with a raised brow. “Warn a guy next time!” He hissed in embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah,” She rolled her eyes, “Come on, we have to get to Percy.” She put the cap back on, shimmering out of sight, and practically dragged Amos towards the other boy. If they weren't literally in life-threatening danger, it might have been funny, an invisible Annabeth dragging Amos silently as he grumbled and complained under his breath.

When they found the boy, his back was turned, eyes focused on Grover as he hit Medusa yet again. “Percy!” Annabeth said.

Amos had to cover his hand with his mouth to hide his laughter as Percy jumped, “Jeez!” He practically whined, “Don't do that!”

When she made herself visible, Annabeth looked scarily serious, “You have to cut her head off.”

Percy stared at her with wide eyes, and even Amos was surprised. He had figured when she found him that she must have had some sort of plan, but he didn't think the plan would be throw Percy to the monster and have him decapitate her.

“What?” The son of Poseidon said, “Are you crazy? Let's get out of here.”

Truthfully, Amos was inclined to agree. Maybe it made him a bad person, but all he really wanted was to get out of there, and fast. Getting rid of Medusa might be ideal but they were kids — magically superpowers half-god kids, but still. He couldn't fathom how they were meant to defeat this famous, powerful monster. (In the back of his mind, he remembered that Percy had slain the Minotaur; he supposed that if any of them could defeat Medusa, it would be Percy).

Annabeth let out a sigh, “Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself but…” She scowled at the ground as though it had seriously offended her, “But you've got the better weapon. You… you've got a chance.”

Her eyes met Percy's as though to convey her seriousness, but he merely shook his head, looking between Amos and Annabeth frantically, “What? I can't! What about Amos, he's got a -” His eyes focused on Amos once more, brows furrowing. “What happened to your spear?”

Once again his face burned as the two other demigods regarded him with strange looks. His grip on the branch tightened just the slightest bit, “Well I figured if we had to fight her…” He struggled to word his thoughts, “I wouldn't be able to see, since we can't look at her, and waving around a spear blind isn't exactly smart. I didn't want to accidentally impale one of you…”

Annabeth looked at him as though he was studying him, trying to understand him, but Percy was quick to nod eagerly, “That makes sense! You know what else makes sense?” He asked Annabeth sarcastically, “Not waving around a sword blind! I can't-”

She huffed in frustration, “Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?” She gestured around them, essentially guilt-tripping them. It was a slightly dirty approach, but an effective one. Percy's shoulders drooped in defeat, and Amos found his eyes lingering on the statues.

He wondered how many families were missing people they loved because Medusa had taken them. How many parents were missing their children, how many children missing their parents, forever waiting and searching for them, unaware that they were as good as dead in a monster's garden? A thought — an illogical, emotional thought — flashed through his head as he wondered about his own mortal parent, the possibility that perhaps his mother or father lingered in this garden of statues. So close yet just out of reach.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as Annabeth continued her explanation, “Besides, you won't be blind.” She grabbed a green gazing ball from a pedestal, “A polished shield would be better but…” It was as though Amos and Percy weren't even there as she studied the sphere with her usual critical gaze, “The convexity will cause some distortion, the reflection's size should be off by a factor of-”

“Is she speaking English?” Percy whispered to Amos. He snorted in response, but before Amos could say anything Annabeth leveled them with a harsh glare, her eyes stormy.

“I am!” She threw the ball at Percy, who fumbled it but miraculously didn't drop it and let it shatter on the ground. “Just look through the glass. Never look at her directly.”

In the background, Grover's voice sounded through, tired but surprisingly cheerful, “Hey, guys! I think she's unconscious!”

The roar Medusa let out proved him wrong, and once again he was left to scuffle with the monster.

“Hurry,” Annabeth urged, pushing Percy lightly, “Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash.” With a hesitant nod, he left, uncapping his pen and allowing his gleaming sword to come through. As he slowly neared the monster, Annabeth turned to Amos, “We'll have to pay attention, you keep watch and distract her if it seems like Percy's in trouble, I'll try to get Grover.”

She was so confident and self-assured that Amos didn't want to argue, but a thought lingered in his mind, “How am I supposed to watch without turning into a statue?”

He thought she might roll her eyes at him again, for questioning her, or for being weak, but she didn’t, instead surprising him with an attempt at a reassuring smile. “You'll be fine just.. listen and watch their feet.” It was awkward and a bit strained, but Amos couldn't help but think that maybe Annabeth wasn't as intimidating as she seemed. Maybe they could even be friends, like him and Percy.

Amos did as she said, moving so that he stood staring at Medusa's back, facing Percy as the son of Poseidon approached her. “You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy,” She spoke, her voice which once sounded so sweet and kind now sounding cold and stiff, like the many statues in her garden. “I know you wouldn't.”

For a moment, Percy stayed motionless, while Grover groaned on the ground, having finally crashed, “Percy, don't listen to her!”

The laugh she left out was a textbook evil villain laugh — Amos fleetingly wondered if monsters went to some sort of evil training camp to learn this sort of thing, because it was remarkably uncanny how typical all the monsters they encountered had acted — and it was like a million things happened at once.

As Medusa lunged, Amos moved, swinging his branch like a baseball bat as he aimed for her head. Simultaneously, Percy slashed his sword, and Medusa erupted into gold dust, which would have been fine if not for the fact that her head was the only thing remaining. The same head that Amos was aiming to hit with his branch. With the momentum too much to stop, the branch connected, and her head went flying, slamming into one of the statues with a sickening thud.

Amos and Percy stared at each other with wide eyes, and Amos dropped the branch almost immediately once he figured out what happened, thoroughly disgusted and mildly traumatized. “Oh, that's…” His stomach churned, and the burger and fries he had devoured earlier threatened to make a reappearance, “I might be sick.”

The head, despite being dead, was making nasty sounds (really not helping Amos' nausea) steaming and gurgling in a way that had Grover wrinkling his nose, “Mega-yuck.”

Annabeth, who was standing with Grover, rushed to find Medusa's veil, her eyes trained firmly on the sky, “Don't move.” She said once she finally located the thing. She dropped it on the head, which stifled the noise, but then to his horror, picked it up, holding it far from her as it dripped a nasty green liquid. “Are you guys alright?” Despite how strong she tried to act, the slight waver in her voice was still audible.

Percy was the first to speak, finally looking away from Amos, though he looked a bit green. “Yeah.” He managed to get out, voice strained, “Why didn't… Why didn't the head evaporate?”

Honestly, Amos was wondering the same, though he was still struggling to contain his nausea and recover from the shock, unable to speak.

“Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war.” She explained. Amos tried to listen but it was seriously hard to focus considering she was holding a decapitated head in her hands, “Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you.”

“Pretty sure no one was planning on that.” Amos finally said, albeit after taking several deep breaths to calm himself.

It seemed Percy had done the same, as his shoulders relaxed and he gave Grover a weak smile as the satyr approached him, “Great flying, good job, man.”

Grover smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun.”

Amos groaned at his words, one hand clutching his stomach, “I'm gonna have to disagree with you. Please don't mention that again.”

Percy patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, and they all made their way to the warehouse once more, wrapping Medusa's head in a couple of plastic bags and settling it on the table they had eaten at earlier. Again, the reminder of food plus the literal head did not help Amos' nausea.

They all sat down, exhausted and drained, mentally and physically. “So,” Percy broke the silence, “We have Athena to thank for this monster?”

Amos stiffened in his chair as he saw Annabeth grow irritated. It felt like a storm approaching, and for some reason, it felt different from the bickering the two had done earlier in the quest.

“Your dad, actually,” She scowled, “Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. that's why Athena turned her into a monster.” Thinking back to the myth, Amos thought they had done a lot more than meet, but he kept quiet. “Medusa had two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably remind her of him.”

Thinking about the myths once more, Amos considered her words. He wasn't an expert on them, not in the same way Annabeth surely was, but he knew that with Medusa there was another version of her story. In that version, rather than meeting with a boyfriend, she had been attacked by the god. He'd never really know which was true, especially not since they had killed her, but part of him wondered if the latter had been true, that she had been cursed for the simple crime of being a victim. He wondered if her kindness towards Percy was false, to lure him into a sense of safety before surprising him with violence, a shock, and assault. Just like she must have felt when Poseidon took advantage of her.

Regardless, Annabeth's words did their job of irritating Percy. His face burned and he matched her scowl with a fierce glare. “Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa.”

“'It's just a photo! What's the harm!'” She mocked him.

Amos was growing more and more uncomfortable the more they argued. He hated conflict, and it was worse that this was happening now when the four of them were stuck on a quest together with no way out. He exchanged a quick, weary look with Grover.

“Forget it, you're impossible.”

Percy's words should have been the end of it, but it seemed as though Annabeth's frustration was peeking, “I'm impossible? You wouldn't listen to us! You ignored Grover, and Amos, and me!” Her hands clenched at her sides, and Amos could see Percy getting more and more riled up. He really did not like this. The arguing was bad enough, but for Amos to be dragged into it? He hated it. “It's a good thing Amos was there at the end, just in case you messed that up too.”

“We all ignored Grover! And it's not my fault I was under her spell or whatever!” Percy countered. His green eyes were dark as he glared, “And Amos didn't do anything besides hit her when she was already dead! He wouldn't have been help anyway, he can't even fight!”

Amos swallowed, sitting silently. It stung.

Annabeth faltered for a moment, but was quick to counter, “You're insufferable.”

“You're-” Percy's words were cut off by Grover, but Amos had stopped paying attention.

Amos knew he wasn't the best fighter, and honestly, it didn't bother him too much. He wasn't like a child of Ares, who loved to brawl and who practiced violence as though it was second nature. He knew he was weak and often useless, barely skilled with his spear, and certainly not physically strong enough to be much use in a physical fight. He wasn’t like a child of Athena either. Amos wasn’t a super smart strategist, with tricks up his sleeve to help them through any situation like Annabeth. These were all things he had accepted about himself a long time ago, it was why he was so apprehensive about the quest in the first place, because he knew he wouldn't do well, that he had nothing to offer. But to hear the words from a friend? They echoed in his mind, over and over, just like the taunts from his childhood did.

He wouldn't have been help anyway, he can't even fight. He's weak. He's useless. Talk about being good for nothing.

Percy's words weren't even that harsh, and perhaps he would have overlooked them if the other boy had acknowledged him. If he took back his words or apologized or did anything else. Instead, Percy had spoken as though Amos wasn't even there, continuing on as though he hadn't insulted his friend. As though he didn’t regret his words. Then again, maybe they weren't friends. Amos had always thought he might've been reading into things too much, seeing friendship where Percy saw a mere acquaintance. Maybe it was alright, he had prepared for Percy to abandon him anyway, moving on to bigger and better people. He just wasn't expecting it to hurt this much.

He remained silent as Percy rummaged through Medusa's things, packing up her head and filling out a delivery slip to mail it to Mount Olympus. If they were friends, Amos might have tried to lighten the mood, maybe discourage Percy's actions. But they weren't, he knew that now. It still stung, but he pushed the feeling away and let his face fall into a passive, apathetic expression.

“They're not going to like that,” Grover warned the boy. “They'll think you're impertinent.”

Percy poured the drachmas he had stolen from Medusa into the pouch, and they all watched as it disappeared with a pop. “I am impertinent.” His eyes were still dark and stormy, as though he was waiting for one of them to tell him off for his, frankly idiotic, actions.

Instead, they all let him do as he pleased, though Annabeth did sigh, “Come on,” She sounded about as tired as Amos felt. “We need a new plan.

＊＊＊

It was already dark outside as they left, and though it was tempting to take shelter in Medusa's shop, they were all pretty creeped out by the statues. Instead, they walked for a bit, their shoes quickly growing dirty with mud.

As they walked, Annabeth wandered over to Amos, “Are you… Are you okay?”

His blank expression faltered as he looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to have noticed the switch in his behavior. Since Percy's words, Amos had stayed quiet. To be fair, he was always relatively quiet, but now he had gone fully mute, except for one quiet exchange with Grover. Truthfully, it was just Percy he wasn't speaking to. He tried not to be upset, not to hold the boy's words against him, since it wasn't his fault that Amos had misread things, thinking they were better friends than they actually were, but the words still stung and he found himself unable to move on.

He shrugged in response to her words, “Yeah, I'm fine.” The lie sounded just as bad out loud as it had in his head.

Hesitantly, Annabeth nodded. “I'm sorry,” She winced as she said the words, like it pained her to apologize, though Amos didn't take it personally. He was learning that she was just like that, stubborn and prideful, but not unkind. “I didn't mean to drag you into our argument, I was just mad. And…” She bit her lip, as though she was debating whether or not to say something, “I'm sorry Percy was kind of harsh, I'm sure he didn't-”

“It's fine,” Amos cut her off with a strained smile. He didn't want to talk about this, to linger in this hurt, “He wasn't wrong anyways.”

Annabeth looked at him as though she might argue, but ultimately decided against it, instead simply nodding hesitantly as they settled into a calm silence. Surprisingly, Amos found it was rather nice. Walking with Annabeth was sure to discourage Percy from speaking to him, though Amos was sure the other boy hadn't even noticed something was wrong with him. He wouldn't dare to think he was friends with the daughter of Athena, but he hoped that if they made it through this quest, maybe they could keep each other company sometimes. It was nicer than he thought it’d be, spending time with her. He had originally thought that their personalities were too different, but Amos was learning that he didn’t mind her more assertive and headstrong tendencies; maybe he needed someone like that in his life to balance out his hesitance.

To say the spot they had settled in was nasty would be an understatement. It lay about a hundred yards away from the main road and was littered with trash and flattened soda cans. Amos had to kick some away to make a clear spot for himself, but soon enough they had all laid out blankets and prepared to settle down.

They mutually agreed to sleep in shifts, and when Percy volunteered to take the first one, no one protested. Amos made himself comfortable beside Annabeth, but while she found sleep easily, Amos found himself unable to rest.

He didn't toss or turn, the ground was uncomfortable enough as it was, so he simply stared up at the sky, straining his eyes to make out the stars.

Amos listed the constellations in his mind, trying to ignore Grover and Percy as they spoke in hushed tones. He didn't want to eavesdrop, especially since it seemed as though Grover was telling his friend all about his life's dreams and goals — it was a little too personal for Amos to listen in on.

Still, his ears couldn't help but refocus when he heard them speaking about Annabeth. He didn't hear what Grover had said to prompt it, but he could make out Percy's response, bitter and sarcastic, “Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out.”

“Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me…” The satyr's voice faltered, and Amos let that sink in. He didn't know the two of them had some sort of shared tragic backstory, but he supposed it made sense, with how natural they seemed around each other. Amos had thought that maybe they simply knew each other from around camp, but Grover's words made it clear that wasn't the case.

“What a minute,” Percy pieced together, “Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp for five years. She wasn't… I mean, your first assignment went wrong-”

Oh, Amos thought to himself, That would explain a bit. It made Amos feel sad for both Grover and Annabeth. If the job went wrong, it must have meant that not everyone made it out. The thought that someone, perhaps a sibling of hers, or maybe just a friend, didn't make it but she did must have torn her up inside. Amos knew it would do that to him.

“I can't talk about it,” Grover's voice caught as though he might cry. He cleared his throat, “But as I was saying, back at Medusa's-” He paused, as if he mentally got derailed again, “You should really apologize to Amos, you know? I think you really upset him.”

Amos froze as he heard Grover's words, and although it was dark, and he knew they wouldn't be able to see him clearly, he closed his eyes, just in case either one of them glanced back at him.

He heard Percy pause, then sigh as though a big burden had been placed on him. “I didn't mean to be so-” He groaned, “I was just mad at Annabeth, I didn't mean to take it out on him.” He grew quiet, and then, voice barely above a whisper, so soft Amos had to strain his ears to listen, he spoke, “Do you think he's really mad?”

“I think he's more sad than anything,” Grover said softly. Great, Amos thought bitterly, Glad to know everyone can read my emotions so clearly. “Just talk to him, I'm sure if you apologize and explain he'll forgive you.” The satyr's words would have been good advice if Amos wasn't second-guessing every single interaction now.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. If Percy apologized he would accept it, he just had to remember the reality of the situation. They weren't friends, Amos wasn't friends with any of them. He didn't share the long history that Annabeth and Grover did, conversation didn't flow as easily as it did between Percy and Grover, even Annabeth and Percy, for all their annoyance and fighting, were better friends than Amos was with anyone. He was alone, the fourth wheel, and that was okay. It would have to be okay. Besides, it wasn't anything he was unused to.

He fell asleep shortly after that, negative thoughts swirling in his mind, dreading what the next day would bring.

Chapter 6: calm before the storm

Chapter Text

That night Amos' dreams were weird. It was almost calm at first, as though he was floating in a pool, weightless and carefree. Then he was falling and falling and falling, limbs thrashing wildly. And then he was drowning, no longer floating but sinking. He was dying, he was certain; his lungs burned and his vision darkened as he slowly lost his strength, fighting against an entity much too powerful.

Worry not, dear one. A voice echoed in his mind. Let this journey end in failure. Let them destroy each other.

He shot up with a gasp as the words echoed in his head. Annabeth was awake, having had the last watch, and Amos could see the faint pink in the sky telling him that morning had just arrived.

She regarded him with a concerned look, “Are you okay?”

Still out of breath, Amos nodded, though judging by her raised eyebrow, he wasn't convincing. “Yeah, I'm fine just-” He pushed some of his dreads out of his face, “Standard nightmare, not a special demigod one.” He looked around at the camp. Percy was passed out, mouth open and drool coating his chin, but Grover was nowhere to be found. “Where's Grover?”

She handed him a bag of chips — a breakfast fit for champions — as she spoke, “He got up early and went exploring. Something about nature calling out to him.”

Amos raised a brow, “You sure he didn't just go to the bathroom? You know… nature's calling, gotta go?”

She threw another bag of chips at him, this time hitting his head as she laughed, “Shut up, I don't want to think about that!” He held his hands up in mock defense, and despite his previous night's assurances to himself that he wouldn't confuse them for friends, he felt his mood lighten at the interaction as his lips quirked up into a smile.

Before he could say anything else, Grover appeared, though, not alone. “You see it too, right?” Amos whispered to her, finding her staring at Grover and his new friend with an equally baffled look.

“Yup. I see it.”

In his arms he carried a toy poodle, dyed an ugly shade of pink with the slightest bit of dirt caking his fur and paws. Amos had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't some sort of hallucination.

“Hey guys!” Grover, happy as ever, held the dog out towards them, “This is Gladiola.

It was silent for a moment as both Grover and the dog stared at them expectantly. Amos was the first to speak up, “…Hi? Nice to… meet you Gladioda…?” Honestly he was still half convinced he was asleep. It was bizarre, but then again they had quite literally decapitated a lady and then Amos had hit her head like a baseball so… weirder things had happened.

The dog yapped at them, and Grover smiled, “He said it's nice to meet you too. He appreciates your manners.” Oddly, Amos felt kind of proud of that.

Annabeth was next, though she seemed thoroughly unhappy about it, “Hello, Gladioda.” She said the words in the tone kids used when they said hello to teachers they didn't like.

As the dog yapped a few more times, apparently greeting Annabeth in return but judging my Grover's nervous laugh, he figured the dog might have used colorful language to do so. The three of them settled on the grass as Grover explained the situation. “Gladiola here is a lost dog, and after I told him a rough version of the past twenty four hours, he said he'd be willing to go back to his owners so we can get the reward!”

It was an oddly convenient plan, and while Annabeth shrugged and agreed immediately — he was pretty sure she'd do just about anything to get them out of these woods and started on the real quest — Amos felt kind of guilty about it. “Uh, are you sure you're willing to do that Gladiola?” It was awkward talking to the dog, and Annabeth was giving him that critical look she always gave when someone did something stupid, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit bad. “I mean you ran away for a reason right… were they mean?”

Okay yeah, Amos might have been projecting a little bit of his own sad miserable life onto this bright pink toy poodle. He couldn't help it! He thought back to when Gleeson rescued him, how happy he was to leave that place. If Gladiola's home was bad he didn't really want to throw the poor dog back to them so easily.

Gladiola yapped and then trotted out of Grover's lap and into Amos', plopping into his lap with a huff and resting his head on his knee, much to Amos' surprise. He had to struggle not to jump, never really having any interactions with dogs before. “He said it's okay,” Grover explained, looking like he was trying not to laugh as Amos scowled, “They're just annoying, but don't worry because they're also stupid, so he can run away again.”

After that, Gladiola seemed content to stay in Amos' lap, and he found himself relaxing with the small dog. It was sort of nice, the warmth that radiated from the small animal, a comforting heat that had Amos burying his fingers in the dog’s fur, stroking it lightly. As the sun steadily rose higher, Annabeth groaned. “I'm going to wake Seaweed Brain up. He can't sleep all day.” She marched over there with a stern face, which Amos might have laughed at if he wasn't dreading coming face to face with the boy again.

As he stiffened, Gladiola gave a soft yap, looking at him, then looking at Grover expectantly. Whatever the dog had communicated had Grover looking at Amos with sympathy, “I know Percy was kind of harsh yesterday. I'm sure he'll apologize today though! He really isn't normally like that, he was just… overwhelmed.”

Amos tried (and ultimately failed) to calm himself as he focused on Gladiola in an attempt to avoid looking at the satyr. “It's fine. No big deal, I'm over it.” And truthfully, he kind of was. The sting that had accompanied Percy's words had faded throughout the night. What hurt more was realizing that they weren't really friends, remembering that while he considered him a friend, Percy was someone clearly meant for great things. He wouldn't want to be shackled with someone as weak as Amos.

Before Grover could say anything else, Percy approached. He could tell by the way Gladiola began growling lightly. The dog yapped at the other boy a few times before Grover stopped him, “No, he's not.” He scolded the poodle lightly.

Though he couldn't see his face, Amos imagined Percy was blinking at them cluelessly. “Are you… talking to that thing?” Gladiola growled once more, and Amos stroked his fur to calm him.

“This thing is our ticket west.” Grover gave Percy a sharp look, “Be nice to him.”

“You can talk to animals?” To be fair, it was kind of a valid question. Amos had been amazed the first time he found out satyrs could do so, and had proceeded to badger Gleeson about what every animal was saying for at least a week. After that the older man threatened to whack Amos with his club, and the demands stopped. (Truthfully, it was just fun to bother the older satyr. He knew the man would never actually be violent towards him, at least not enough to do real harm).

“Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy.”

Finally, Amos risked a glance up as he tried not to laugh at Percy, standing above them with a bewildered look. “I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle, forget it.”

Annabeth glared at him, “Percy, I said hello to the poodle. Amos said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle.”

His green eyes darted towards Amos, and for a moment he froze and it was like a million emotions ran through him — regret, sadness, guilt, and something else that Amos couldn't quite place. Then his eyes turned to the poodle once more and he sighed. “Hello, Gladiola.”

Once they had returned Gladiola (which had surprisingly saddened Amos a lot, and had seriously made him consider if he could convince Chiron or Luke to allow the cabin to get a pet) they continued on. Not wanting to take another bus, they booked train tickets, and before they knew it they were on an Amtrak, heading towards whatever awaited them in Los Angeles. Well, actually, whatever awaited them in Denver, since they couldn't quite afford tickets straight to Los Angeles.

Once they boarded, they settled in seats near the back of the bus. Amos was quick to settle in the corner, his face turned toward the window in an attempt to isolate himself from the others. He had been much too relaxed that morning, scolding himself afterwards. Amos kept forgetting that they weren't really friends, just questmates, and was getting too comfortable. Glaring out the window, he tried to strengthen his resolve.

Much too focused on berating himself internally, Amos missed the whispering and shoving Annabeth and Grover were doing to Percy.

“You need to go over there and apologize,” Annabeth hissed with a firm look in her eyes, “He's been weird ever since you opened your stupid mouth and-”

“Okay!” Grover interrupted, “I think he's got it Annabeth.” Giving Percy a sympathetic look, Grover patted his friend's back, “She's right though, Percy. I know you didn't mean to upset him but you did.”

Percy let out a sigh, “I know.” He glared at the floor. It wasn't that he didn't want to apologize. He did feel bad about what he had said, and he hated that he had upset Amos so much — he could feel the other boy's absence, and he missed their conversations, even if they were short sometimes — but he just felt so… unsure.

When he had met Amos (their first real meeting, not when he had embarrassed himself in front of Amos at the infirmary while he was still half conscious) he felt drawn to the boy because he identified with him. The outsider, the one other people thought was weird… It reminded Percy of how he often felt at all his schools, pushed down and alone, the odd one out.

It was why he so stubbornly stuck with the other boy, even if he did try to avoid him sometimes — which, honestly, Percy thought was kind of funny, the way Amos had tried to hide but always went to the most predictable places… maybe he wanted to be found after all. The more he spent time with Amos, the more he felt that their friendship really could grow, but he wasn't blind. He could tell that Amos was holding him, all of them really, at an arm's length. Part of him feared that he had messed this — his budding friendship with Amos — up (the way I mess everything up, a part of him bitterly thought), and with the other boy's almost skittish behavior, he feared that he'd ruined it forever.

He took a hesitant step forward, only for Annabeth to shove him, making him bump into the seat next to Amos, successfully drawing the boy's attention. Percy tried not to feel disheartened as he saw Amos' eyes shift from confused to closed off as soon as he registered it was Percy standing there. Naturally, Percy found himself unable to speak normally. “Uh, hey,” He awkwardly shifted on his feet, “Could I uh… sit?”

For a moment Amos was silent, and Percy feared that he’d be pushed away. He couldn’t help the breath he let out once Amos finally shrugged his shoulders, giving him a stiff, “Sure.” Before turning to face the window again.

Baby steps, Percy, He told himself, Don’t scare him away.

“Look,” Percy said, his voice measured as he figured out how to word his thoughts, “Back at Medusa’s… I shouldn’t have said those things.” Amos, who had been stubbornly facing the window, turned his head slightly to look at Percy, and it made him falter in his words. Amos’ eyes were strangely intense, at least to him; they were so incredibly dark, like an abyss that always seemed to draw Percy in. Some might think they were unsettling, but Percy mostly thought they were entrancing.

Regaining his senses — he really hoped Amos hadn’t noticed his staring — Percy spoke once more, “I’m really sorry. I can’t take it back but I didn’t mean any of that I swear! I was just… mad. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Amos felt taken aback. Sure he had been expecting an apology (and he had tried and failed to mentally prepare for it) but he wasn’t expecting Percy to sound so earnest. He tried not to look into Percy’s eyes too much, as he was sure if he saw whatever sad puppy dog look the boy was giving him, Amos would give in and revert to their false friendship immediately. It’s better this way, he told himself, though he could feel his resolve weakening. Better to stop before I get too invested. Before he realizes that those words he said were just him telling the truth.

Nodding, Amos reverted his eyes back to the window. “It's okay.” Inwardly he cringed at how empty and apathetic his voice sounded. “Thank you for the apology.”

Percy floundered for a moment, “That's- huh?” He shook his head, his brows furrowing, “No, it's not… okay. I was wrong and it hurt you and that's not okay.”

Amos sighed, turning his body to finally face the other boy, “Look, you don't have to worry about it, okay? It won't get in the way of the quest-”

“It's not about the quest!” Percy blurted out. With his eyes locked on Amos, taking in the surprise that flashed through him, the words fell out of him without thinking. “I don't care about this quest! But you're my friend and I was mean just like- just like people have been mean to me, and you didn't deserve that. So, you can keep saying it's okay but I know it's not, and I won't stop apologizing until you know it too.”

It was silent after that, Amos staring at him stunned as Percy stared at him intensely, almost glaring as he stared at him with a determined gaze. A thought flashed through Amos’ head, that perhaps Percy wasn't lying. He had always sought him out at camp, finding Amos even when he hid like the recluse he was. It wouldn't be crazy to think Percy would find him like that again, berating him with apologies and promises until Amos gave in. (Secretly, Amos thought that didn't sound too bad).

He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous, but Amos broke eye contact and swallowed anxiously. “Are you sure you won't get sick of me?” His voice was soft, and if Percy hadn't been right next to him, the son of Poseidon likely would've had trouble hearing it. Amos was suddenly very thankful for his concealer — though truthfully, after a day of fighting and sweating with no reapplication, it was starting to feel uncomfortable on his skin — that covered up the lighter splotches on his face, as it helped to hide any sign of his face burning from embarrassment, though a hint of redness still poked through.

When he risked a glance at the other boy's face, Percy was smiling widely, his shoulders relaxed and in a much more carefree mood. That suits him much better, Amos couldn't help but think. (And then he tried as hard as he could to wipe that thought from his mind; he really didn't have the time, or emotional capacity to unpack what that might mean).

Percy shoved his shoulder lightly with one hand, a smile illuminating his face. “I think I should be the one asking you that. I've been kicked out of like, six schools, you know?”

Either his attitude was contagious, or Amos was just that relieved that his fears had been quelled, that Percy had declared them friends and apologized to him, because Amos found himself letting out a quiet stream of laughter. His eyes crinkled as faint dimples indented his cheeks, and his nose scrunched just the lightest bit, a sign that it was true laughter that left him, not the stilted huffs of amusem*nt he usually gave.

(If anyone noticed the slight look of awe on his face as Percy watched his friend — his friend who was sort of nice looking, objectively speaking, not that he had noticed — well… no they didn't).

Their other friends joined them shortly after, and despite the faint air of awkwardness around Annabeth and Percy, the mood was much lighter than it had been before. That is, until the newspaper.

It showed Percy — a blurry image, but still so distinctly him — running the bus they had left behind in New Jersey, his sword in his hand. Twelve year old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The sight of the newspaper was enough to ruin the good mood they had all been in. For the whole rest of the day, Percy alternated between pacing the train car nervously, and glaring out the window.

It was a little exhausting, even just to watch him stress out so much. Amos had tried to help lighten the mood once more by making conversation, but Percy was much too distracted for that. Eventually, he gave up, curling up on one of the seats and slipping into a dreamless sleep.

After two days of travel — two days of stiff necks, and uncomfortable sleeping positions, and a stuffy train car — they approached St. Louis, and Amos couldn’t help but be amazed by the sight. It was easier to cover up before, when they were mostly passing by empty fields, but Amos was kind of amazed by everything they had seen. Before the quest, the only other time he’d traveled had been when he went to camp for the first time, and that wasn’t really much of a sightseeing journey. Besides the fact that Gleeson had mostly just dragged him through wooded areas, he was originally from Connecticut, which wasn’t exactly the farthest distance from Long Island.

He had tried not to appear too stunned by everything, and honestly Amos thought he was doing a pretty good job, at least, until the arch. He stared out the window with wide eyes as he took in the sight. Next to him, Annabeth appeared equally mesmerized.

“I want to do something like that,” She sighed longingly.

Percy tilted his head slightly in confusion, “What?”

“Build something like that. Have you guys ever seen the Parthenon?”

Amos nodded as Percy shrugged, “Only in pictures.”

“Someday, I’m going to see it in person. I’m going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that’ll last a thousand years.”

Amos smiled at that. It was a nice idea — though truthfully he could do without the whole monument to the gods bit, didn’t they have enough monuments? — to create something that would outlive them. A legacy to leave behind.

Percy apparently didn’t share his thoughts, instead laughing at her words, “You? An architect?” He winced when Amos drove an elbow into his side with a glare, but he didn’t take back the words.

Annabeth’s face burned and she glared at the ground. “Yes, an architect.” She crossed her arms haughtily and flicked her braids over her shoulder, “Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention.”

It was quiet for a moment as Percy’s shoulders slumped, and Annabeth slowly deflated. Amos tried to subtly shift away, not wanting to get caught up in their weird rivalry. Of course, this was kind of hard to do, seeing as he was stuck between them.

“Sorry.” Annabeth said softly, “That was mean.”

Percy sighed. “Can't we work together a little?” His voice was pleading, though they were both still gazing out the window, stubbornly refusing to make eye contact. “I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?”

She paused, thinking, and Amos perked up. He wasn't the best with the myths, but he did remember this. “The chariot.” He interjected, turning his head to look at Annabeth. An awkward half smile formed on his lips. I really hope I’m not overstepping, he groaned internally. Dealing with emotions and conflict like this really wasn't his strong suit.

“I guess…” She sounded tentative, “My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to complete it.”

Percy perked up, “Then we can cooperate, too. Right?”

Annabeth remained quiet, eyes fixed on the Arch as it disappeared from their view. “I suppose.”

She said it begrudgingly, but Amos honestly could've jumped for joy. It was tiring dealing with Percy and Annabeth at times, and the fact that a lot of their tension revolved around their godly parents baffled him.

Perhaps it was his position as an unclaimed camper, but he couldn't figure out why it mattered so much. It wasn't just them, everyone at camp was the same, basing their personalities, their friends, their hobbies, and their rivalries on their parents. Parents that didn't even pay attention to them! He loved camp, but couldn't help the bitter feeling it gave him sometimes.

So much of life at camp revolved around their parents, something that so many campers lacked. He thought of the other unclaimed campers, who he wasn't friends with, but they all shared a certain sense of camaraderie. Ethan, who always tried to hide how much it bothered him that he was unclaimed. Alabaster, who was almost as stubborn as Amos and who was open and vocal about his distaste for the way camp treated them. Tatiana, who was only ten and had spent a full year praying to the gods to claim her; she hadn't lost hope yet but everyone could see her smile dimming and her eyes losing their youthful shine. And so many more, kids who lost hope and grew angry and bitter and sad. It just wasn't fair.

Part of Amos understood, or at least tried to. Their parents made up half of who they were, it's understandable that campers would be impacted by that, but Amos didn't think that had to mean all the unclaimed campers got overlooked.

He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts. Amos hated dwelling on the idea of godly parents so much. It only ever made him upset, and it wasn't as though he was in a position to change anything. Focus on the quest, He told himself, That's something you can sort of do something about.

The train pulled into the Amtrak station, and the crackling of the intercom sounded overhead, successfully distracting him from his negative thoughts. “Attention passengers,” The worker's voice sounded monotone and sort of like he hated his job (which Amos thought was understandable, he'd probably hate it too). “We've arrived in St. Louis. There will be a three hour layover and then we'll continue on to the lovely city of Denver. Be sure to return before the three hours are up, the train will not wait for late passengers.” The intercom crackled once more, significant that the announcement had ended.

They all stood, stretching and groaning about their sore muscles. “Food.” Grover groaned, half asleep.

“Come on, goat boy,” Annabeth said, and Amos could see a faint smile on her face. “Sightseeing.”

Amos perked up, standing straighter and immediately nodding in agreement. Sure, maybe it was stupid but when else would he get the chance to see something like the Arch?

Grover and Percy seemed unconvinced, exchanging apprehensive looks.

“Come on,” Annabeth frowned at them. “The Gateway Arch. This might be my only chance to rise to the top. Are you coming or not?”

“Let's all go,” Amos encouraged, receiving a grateful look from Annabeth and a weird one from Percy, “Don't we kind of deserve something nice after almost dying like, two times already?”

Despite the fact that they very much looked like they didn't agree, Percy and Grover shrugged. “As long as there's a snack bar without monsters.” The satyr shrugged, and that was that.

Amos couldn't help but smile as they walked over to the Arch, listening to Annabeth spew fun facts. They were finally doing something normal kids did. Hanging out, sightseeing… It was kind of nice. Not to mention the lack of monsters. Amos could definitely get used to this.

He really should've learned though, that anytime things seemed good, it just meant something worse was coming.

Chapter 7: percy destroys a national landmark

Chapter Text

Percy shifted anxiously as the four of them waited in line. It wasn't a long line by any means, which should have been good — he wasn't exactly eager to see the Arch, to begin with, but Annabeth and Amos had seemed so eager and determined that he didn’t feel like he could deny them the experience — since a shorter line meant getting it over with quicker. But there was something in the air… It almost felt like right before the bus in New Jersey had exploded, the sensation of hair sticking up as a charged energy surrounded them.

“You smell anything?” He whispered to Grover under his breath, watching as Amos gave Annabeth his full attention, the only one of them seemingly engaged in all her fun facts.

Grover sniffed lightly, then shrugged, “Underground,” He said with a frown. “Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything though.”

He then returned to scarfing down some jelly beans, but Percy couldn't shake the feeling in his gut. He wondered for a moment if this was what the others had felt back at Medusa's, the sense that something was wrong but the frustration of not being believed.

“Guys,” Percy spoke up, interrupting Annabeth as she rambled on about the construction, pointing out things to Amos — when the two of them became friends, Percy had no clue, though he supposed it might have just been due to the interest Amos apparently had in sightseeing. He ignored the unhappy look the other two demigods were giving him, “You know the gods' symbols of power?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“Well, Hade-”

Grover suddenly sputtered, coughing and clearing his throat dramatically, “We're in a public place,” He hissed once his scene was over. “You mean, our friend downstairs?”

“Um, right…” Ignoring his friend's horrendous acting and lack of subtly, Percy pushed on. “Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?”

“You mean the Helm of Darkness? Yeah, that's his symbol of power.” Annabeth shrugged, “I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting.”

“He was there?” For some reason Percy couldn't picture the god, probably as dark and intimidating as he sounded, sitting plainly in some council room.

Annabeth nodded. “It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus — the darkest day of the year.”

Barely audible, Amos mumbled under his breath, “So cliché…”

“But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat,” She paid the other boy no mind, “If what I've heard is true…”

“It allows him to become darkness,” Grover said with a nod. “He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard.”

Amos interjected with a slight teasing grin, “I'd like to get my hands on that.”

Grover simply gave him an unamused look, continuing with his explanation, “And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?”

“But then… how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?” The genuine worry in Percy's voice made Amos pause.

Grover and Annabeth exchanged a look, and while they didn't appear as outwardly nervous as Percy did, Amos could see the unease in their eyes. “We don't,” Grover responded.

Eager to rid the air of the anxious energy, Amos slung an arm around Percy's shoulders, aiming for a friendly, casual touch, the way he often saw other guys at camp do. “Come on, what reason would he have to watch us anyway?”

But Percy's shoulders tensed, and Amos almost immediately began to pull away. Stupid, stupid, stupid, He cursed himself internally, You guys just made up and now you're being all weird and touchy-feely. Nice going.

Sensing Amos pulling away, and nervous that it would make his friend shut them out again, Percy forced himself to relax. It wasn’t that he hated the touch, but it made his heart rate spike as a flash of anxiety passed through him, though Percy couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Trying to calm himself, he didn't exactly lean into the touch, but instead took deep breaths and focused on the warmth radiating from Amos rather than the nerves wound tight inside of him. It was awkward and a little embarrassing, but Percy would rather deal with that than have Amos close off again. He'd make sure that the other boy knew they were friends, even if it did result in a strange tangle of emotions settling in his gut.

He felt his face burn as Grover and Annabeth gave him and Amos weird looks, but Percy did his best to ignore it. “Oh, I don't know,” He said, forcing his voice to remain casual as he injected the slightest bit of sarcasm. “Maybe for whatever reason he sent his minions after us?”

His actions had seemingly worked, as his sarcastic quip had Amos relaxing once more, the arm on Percy’s shoulder growing slightly heavier as he became more confident in his movements.

“Come on,” Amos said with an eye roll, “The gods are too busy to claim their kids half the time. I’m sure our friend downstairs has other things he's busy with, I doubt he's spending all his time lurking around some teenagers.”

The mention of the gods and the blind eye they frequently turned when it came to their children had the rest of them pause, and he swore he saw Annabeth give Amos a sad look. Percy had forgotten, so carried away in the quest and thoughts of his mother, and his father, that Amos was one of the unclaimed kids. He felt stupid, for forgetting such a key detail; it was how they had met after all. Briefly, Percy wondered if the nights after he had been claimed had been just as lonely for Amos as they were for him.

Percy elbowed his friend lightly, “Whatever…” His eyes wandered to the candy in Grover’s hands. “Got any blue jelly beans left?”

After that, the line ran rather quickly, and it wasn’t until the elevator that both Amos and Percy began tensing up once more. Slipping his arm off of Percy’s shoulder, Amos gulped as he looked up. Mentally he knew that seeing the Arch meant going to the view at the top, but he hadn’t thought it’d be so high up.

They all shuffled along, getting shoved into an elevator with an older woman and her yapping chihuahua. As the elevator rose, Amos tried his best to take deep breaths, and beside him, Percy was beginning to look a little green. At least I'm not alone in my suffering, Amos thought to himself.

“No parents?” Amos jumped as the old woman spoke, her beady eyes boring into them. For a moment they all faltered.

It was Annabeth — naturally — who rescued them. “They're below. Scared of heights.”

“Oh, the poor darlings.” Her word choice reminded him of Medusa, her sweet treatment and constant use of that term of endearment. Goosebumps rose on his arms and he tried his best not to make eye contact with the woman as his mind raced.

There's no way… right? He tried to convince himself, No way all monsters use the same creepy pet names before they try to kill us. She's just an old lady, just a normal, non-monstrous old lady. She has to be.

Yeah… he didn't exactly convince himself.

Looking at the old lady and her dog critically, Amos narrowed his eyes as the dog began growling, “Now, now, sonny. Behave.” Amos was starting to seriously miss Gladiola, who was nice, and soft, and never growled at him, unlike this little demon. He swore there was some sort of… intelligence in this dog’s eyes, one that unsettled him.

“Sonny,” Percy spoke, his voice once again dripping with anxiety, “Is that his name?”

The old woman smiled, an uncomfortable smile that showed all her teeth, “No.”

Well, that was perfectly normal, Amos snarked internally. They reached the top pretty quickly after that, preventing him from verbalizing his thoughts.

If the others had an off feeling about the old woman, the view at the top prevented them from expressing it. Annabeth was quick to explain every detail about the Arch; how it was built, the structure, and what she would do to make it better… honestly, Amos couldn't pay attention, too focused on the terrifying height.

Percy looked on edge. Whether it was because of the height or because he was still on edge from earlier, Amos wasn't sure, but as soon as the park ranger began ushering them out, Percy practically shoved all three of them toward the elevators.

Unfortunately, in his desire to get the rest of them out, Percy forgot himself. The three of them were already standing kind of squished together, their shoulders touching.

“Next car, sir.” The park ranger's voice sounded dull and uninterested. Amos’ brows furrowed in concern as he stared past Percy, where the old woman and her chihuahua stood. Goosebumps erupted across his skin once more and a feeling of dread and wrongness washed over him.

He wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but he also didn't want to leave Percy alone. Biting his lip, Amos mustered up his courage. “I can stay with you, the elevator is kinda stuffy anyways.”

Beside him, Annabeth nodded in agreement, “We’ll all stay and wait with you.”

“Nah,” Percy waved his hand casually, brushing off the issue. “It's okay, I'll see you guys at the bottom.”

He tried to give them all a reassuring smile, but Amos wasn't buying it. He put his hand out to stop the elevator from shutting as a mixture of concern and frustration welled up in him, “Stop acting like everything’s fine. I know you feel it too. There's something-”

“Are you kids done?” The park ranger rolled his eyes in annoyance, “You're holding up everyone.”

They all looked down in embarrassment, and Amos felt his face burn. He took away his hand, the doors shutting as the last thing he saw was a fake smile from Percy.

“What was that about?” Annabeth hissed when they reached the bottom. “You drew so much attention to us!”

Amos groaned, “I know, it's just… didn't you guys sense anything weird? Did you smell anything, Grover?”

“I told you, it’s hard underground,” Grover bleated. “Besides, Percy’s just coming down in the next elevator. It won't be more than five minutes.”

Pursing his lips, Amos gave up arguing. He could tell that they didn’t believe him, doubting the sick feeling in his gut that told him something terrible was going to happen. It stung a bit, that they wouldn’t listen, and the familiar feeling of rejection and otherness washed over him. It felt as though no matter what, he’d always be different, never fully trusted, and never fully accepted. He tried to push those thoughts away. His little argument with Percy had shown Amos that maybe he was a bit too negative, always quick to assume the worst, but old habits die hard, and he couldn’t just rewire his brain to be positive.

Try as he might, those negative feelings lingered in the back of his mind as they waited for Percy. Amos tapped his foot anxiously as the minutes dragged on, and as more time passed he could see Annabeth and Grover getting nervous as well.

“Did our elevator take this long? I don’t think it took this long.” Grover anxiously began pacing back and forth.

Annabeth looked uneasy too. “Maybe… Maybe it did? It probably just feels longer because we’re waiting-” A loud boom made all three of them pale, and they joined the frantic crowd as they rushed out to see what had happened.

The Arch was on fire. A plume of smoke escaped through a hole that had been blasted through the metal, as though a bomb had gone off inside. The dread that Amos had been feeling intensified in a way he hadn’t known was possible. “I knew we shouldn’t have left him…” Internally, Amos was cursing himself for not trying harder to keep them together, for giving in when Percy insisted on being left alone. With all that had happened on the quest so far, all the monster attacks, they should have known better than to separate.

“It-It'll be fine,” Grover tried to reassure them. “It's Percy, we should have faith-”

The sight of Percy, thrown back by another explosion, and falling towards the river made them stop. All around them bystanders shrieked and ran, and for a split second Amos felt like it was him falling. It was like he was in his nightmares, falling and falling and…

Percy’s body hit the water, and all of a sudden Amos was running.

Vaguely he could hear Grover and Annabeth chase after him, yelling at him to slow down, but he just couldn't. It was hard, running amongst the crowd, but Amos elbowed his way through. The panic and adrenaline had made him out of breath, leaving him borderline hyperventilating, almost like he was drowning on land. Amos reached the river first, his heart pounding as he stared at the glittering water. It was still, no sign of Percy. “He- He has to be in there.” He breathed out. The river was large, and there was no telling where exactly Percy had landed, but all Amos knew was that he had to find him.

Embarrassingly, he could feel tears threaten to appear, the fear, panic, and desperation almost overwhelming. They had just made up, Amos had just accepted they were friends, and now… The thought of this being the end, of never seeing Percy again, was almost too much.

Grover and Annabeth had reached him at this point. “Did you find him?” The satyr was quick to ask. Amos felt bad suddenly, for how he'd been so self-centered in his misery. Grover had been Percy’s friend for much longer, and they were much closer. He couldn't imagine the pain and worry he must have been feeling. When Amos shook his head, Grover let out a quiet, mournful sound.

“It’ll be okay,” Annabeth said, though it was clear she was speaking more to reassure herself than anything, “He's a son of Poseidon. He can't have… This couldn't have hurt him. Water heals him.”

Amos bit his lip anxiously, and for a moment he even debated diving in to try and find the boy. It wasn't exactly a good idea, what with the fact that he could barely swim, but in his panicked state, it was the only solution he could think of. He might have done it too, if not for all the people. Around them, people crowded the scene, swarming and making Amos feel extremely claustrophobic.

He turned, trying to get out when he saw Percy following the crowd and walking along the edge of the river as though nothing had happened. Amos couldn't help the smile that formed on his face, filled with relief that his friend was okay. “He's there!” Amo shouted to Annabeth and Grover before shoving his way through the crowd. The bystanders around him definitely didn't appreciate it, and he could hear Grover apologizing behind him, but honestly, Amos couldn't bring himself to care.

He slammed into Percy, pulling the boy into a hug. “You're crazy, Jackson.” He spoke almost breathlessly, still reeling at all that had happened. Amos pulled away slightly to examine him, his hands firm on his shoulders. Besides his face, which was flushed and steadily growing redder, and his eyes which were wide with surprise, Percy seemed normal. Still, Amos had to ask, “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Grover and Annabeth burst out of the thick crowd. Amos pulled away from the other boy to give them a sheepish smile, as he hadn't realized how far behind they were. Thankfully, they were so caught up in Percy that they didn't do more than shoot Amos looks of irritation.

“Percy!” Grover practically tackled the boy — Amos had to hold back a laugh as Percy let out a soft Oof at the impact — pulling his friend into a tight bear hug. “We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!”

Annabeth stood with Amos, her arms crossed, though even with her seemingly constant irritation at Percy, it was clear she was relieved to see him alright. “We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?”

“I sort of fell.”

Amos snorted, “Yeah, we saw.”

Annabeth was less amused, her eyes narrowing and lips pursing into a frown, “Six hundred and thirty feet!”

Percy looked like he wanted to defend himself some more, but he was cut off by the incoming paramedics. They were rolling a woman on a stretcher, trying to calm her as she babbled. “And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing chihuahua-” At her words, Amos, Grover, and Annabeth snapped their heads towards Percy, who merely shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. “I'm not crazy!” The woman continued, “This boy jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared. There he is! That's the boy!” When she made eye contact with him, Percy paled, dragging them all towards the crowd to blend in.

“What's going on?” Annabeth hissed, “Was she talking about the chihuahua on the elevator?”

“I totally called it.” Amos couldn't help but interject. He spoke without really thinking, and when the others gave him unamused looks, he felt his face burn. He put his hands up, trying to defend himself from their dirty looks. “What? I'm just saying, next time let's not separate.”

Percy rolled his eyes, but his lips tugged up into a smile, “Alright genius, next time we'll make sure to listen to your infinite wisdom.” He went on to give them a replay of events, which consisted of the creepy old lady actually being evil — which, again, Amos totally called — her chihuahua being her son — bizarre, but weirder things have happened in Greek myths — Percy's award worthy dive, and then apparently a message from a lady who was in the river, sent there by Poseidon (?) — because that wasn't ominous at all.

All in all… pretty weird, but at this point, everything that had happened on the quest had been weird, so Amos just decided not to question anything anymore.

Grover and Annabeth were seemingly in agreement, as they didn't question any of his story either. Instead, Grover nodded, “We've got to get you to Santa Monica, then. You can't ignore a summons from your dad!”

Of course, with the wonderful luck they'd had on the quest so far, it was at this moment that they overheard a reporter. “Percy Jackson.” They all turned to Percy with wide eyes, “That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago.” Amos winced. They really should have expected that to come back and bite them. “And the boy is believed to be traveling west.” As though things couldn't get worse, the woman spoke again, “For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson.”

To say they rushed back to the bus would be an understatement. They ran and by some miracle made it back to the Amtrak station in time, though they were all breathing heavily by the time they boarded the train.

It was lucky that the train wasn't too packed, and that the other travelers didn't seem to care about the group of teens, otherwise they might be in more trouble than they already were.

Amos practically threw himself down into his seat, and across from him, Percy did the same, sighing with relief as he settled. He kicked his friend lightly in the shin to draw his attention, “Are you sure you're okay?” Amos couldn't help but ask. He was a worrier, and yeah Percy had said he was okay, but still… It had scared him, the fact that something like that could even happen. If it had been anyone else, they would've been dead. No one else could survive that fall and impact. Even Percy wasn't guaranteed to survive. He was a new demigod, still learning and unfamiliar with his abilities. What would've happened if something faltered and his water powers didn't work?

It was like Percy could sense his nerves, though really, Amos was pretty sure he just wasn't good at hiding his emotions. The son of Poseidon gave him a small smile, “Yeah. After everything that's happened so far, it'll take more than a little fall to kill me.”

Amos snorted, his nerves slowly dissipating, “Pretty sure over six hundred feet isn't little.”

“Six hundred thirty,” Annabeth corrected, settling into the seat beside them with a teasing smile. “I can't believe you destroyed the Arch.”

Percy sputtered, glaring at her, though it held no real heat, “Hey, that wasn't me! It was the Chimera!” They all laughed, and for the first time on the quest, Amos felt fully relaxed. The carefree mood successfully erased his nerves, and for once he felt almost normal, like they weren't three demigods and one satyr on a quest, but instead four friends, enjoying each other's time. It was nice, and though Amos still had some doubts about the security of the bonds he was developing, he thought he could get used to this. Who knew having friends was so rewarding?

Chapter 8: long distance calls suck

Chapter Text

For the rest of the ride to Denver, Amos treated Percy as though he had been injured, constantly asking if he was okay. It was as endearing as it was annoying, and though the continual need for reassurance got on his nerves just a bit, Percy entertained it nonetheless. He worried a little that if he didn’t, Amos might second guess himself again and think that they weren’t friends, so Percy figured dealing with a little babying was worth it. It was also kind of… nice, in a slightly irritating, overbearing way. The two boys had been friendly at camp, and Percy knew that Amos was nice because of the way that he let Percy ramble and never complained, and by the way that Amos had stuck by his side after he’d been claimed. Still, he hadn’t expected his friend to be so caring, worrying over him and fretting over his well-being even after he tried to reassure everyone he was fine. Mom would like him, Percy couldn’t help but think, a thought that made his heart clench painfully.

By the time the train rolled to a stop in Denver, Amos had finally decided he was convinced enough to ease up on his concerns. After days of travel, the four of them certainly had seen better days, all of them varying degrees of hungry and smelly. Amos had to resist scratching his face despite the uncomfortable feeling that had developed due to the concealer that he had put on his face days ago. He had been lucky so far, that the light in the train had been dim, and that the others were often too distracted by whatever monster was attacking them next to take notice of his face, but Amos was sure that luck would run out soon enough. The thought of it alone sent a wave of unease through him.

Annabeth spoke, snapping him out of his anxious spiral, “Let’s try to contact Chiron.” She marched ahead towards the downtown area like she knew where she was going, though Amos was almost positive she didn’t — she was a year-round camper like him, and that didn’t exactly give them many opportunities to explore and travel. “I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit.”

“We can't use phones, right?” Percy asked, which made Annabeth roll her eyes.

“I'm not talking about phones.”

For a moment Amos wasn't sure what exactly she was talking about, so when Percy shot him a look of confusion, he merely shrugged. She hadn't led them astray so far, and Amos was quickly realizing that Annabeth was often their best bet in situations like this. They all trailed her like a group of lost little ducklings, following her as she led them through town. Eventually, they reached a self-service car wash, empty and nearly abandoned, but still seemingly working. It wasn't until Grover picked up the spray gun that it finally clicked. “Oh!” Amos blurted, “We're I-M’ing.”

Since he had grown more comfortable with his companions, Amos had found that his internal filter had sort of stopped working. He figured it was all the near-death experiences — it was definitely an effective way to bond with people. So when he spoke his words of realization out loud he wasn't thinking about it. Annabeth raised an eyebrow at him, and even Grover gave him an amused look, as though he should have realized what was happening ahead of time. His face burned, “I knew that.”

Annabeth snickered lightly, clearly enjoying his embarrassment, while Percy steadily grew more confused. “Uh, I didn't. I-M’ing? Like… instant messaging?”

“It's seventy-five cents,” Grover mumbled, frowning down at the hose as he counted the coins in his pocket, effectively ignoring Percy. “I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?”

Percy looked like he wanted to throw his hands up in annoyance as his question went unanswered, the others too busy rummaging through their pockets. “Don’t look at me,” She said, crossing her arms, “The dining car wiped me out.”

When their eyes turned to Amos, he was already shaking his head. Percy was their last resort, grumbling as he handed Grover some of his leftover change. “Can one of you guys explain what we’re doing already?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes like she was tired of having to explain everything, but they all knew she secretly enjoyed it. “Iris Messaging. The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods, and if she’s not too busy — and you know how to ask — she’ll do the same for half-bloods.”

Percy looked at them skeptically. “You summon the goddess,” He said slowly, as though unbelieving, “With a spray gun?”

“We also throw food into a fire to sacrifice it to our parents, and believe in superstitious dreams.” Amos shrugged, “Is this really that much weirder?”

“Plus this is the easiest way to make a rainbow,” Grover told him, to which Percy could only nod slowly. Amos was right in that there were plenty of weird things they had experienced, but believing in communication via rainbow was pushing it a little.

Annabeth held out her hand, “Drachma, please.” When Percy begrudgingly handed it over, his eyes still a bit skeptical, she raised the coin over her head. “O goddess, accept our offering.” With a flip of her fingers, the coin went flying, disappearing in a gold shimmer. No matter how suspicious he had been, Percy figured the shimmering rainbow before them was evidence enough that he had been wrong. Note to self, he thought, If it seems crazy, it's probably true.

“Half-Blood Hill,” Annabeth requested, and they all held their breaths for a moment as they waited for it to work. The rainbow shimmered once more, and suddenly they were viewing the strawberry fields that surrounded camp, with a figure standing in the distance.

“Luke!” Percy called out, a smile breaking out over his face.

The counselor turned around with wide eyes, but when he saw the three of them — Grover was just out of sight since he was the one holding the nozzle — he smiled brightly. “Percy! Is that Annabeth, too? And Amos? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?”

Amos was surprised by the attention, though it did feel kind of nice. He had always assumed that no one really cared for him back at camp; it was nice to see that in his absence Luke had been concerned for him. Then again, he was Amos' camp counselor, so maybe it was more of an obligation than anything else…

He was also surprised to see Annabeth's flustered reaction. Amos had forgotten that she was harboring a painfully obvious crush on the older boy. In Luke's presence, the confident and stubborn girl they knew became a stammering, flushed mess. “We're… uh… fine!” She smiled at him and absentmindedly tried to straighten out her hair and brush the dirt off her shirt. “We thought- Chiron- I mean-”

Percy and Amos exchanged a glance, slightly pained expressions on their faces. They were just watching but it was hard even for them to witness her struggle to talk to the boy. Luke didn't seem like he noticed though. “He's down at the cabins.” His face turned serious, “We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover alright?”

Grover grinned, adjusting his grip on the nozzle to make himself more visible. “I'm here!” He waved one hand in a slightly awkward greeting. “What sort of issues are-”

Naturally, because people are assholes — and also because they were literally in a car wash — a car pulled up into the stall directly next to them. It was one of those annoyingly loud ones, with engines that revved loudly and a stereo that boomed like the driver wanted all of Denver to hear it.

Annabeth groaned in annoyance, and Grover mumbled under his breath as Amos pressed a hand against his ear in an attempt to muffle the noise. He could practically feel the headache threatening to appear, a faint throbbing on the right side of his head.

“What is that?” They could barely hear Luke over the noise.

“We’ll deal with it!” Annabeth shouted. “Grover, come on, just hand Percy the nozzle!”

The young satyr stammered for a moment, before Annabeth lightly shoved Percy towards him, and pulled Grover away towards the noisy car. Now it was just Amos, Percy, and Luke, still struggling to hear each other over the blasting noise.

The two younger boys stayed silent as Luke sighed, beginning to tell them all the events that had occurred while they'd been gone. “Chiron had to break up a fight. Things are pretty tense here, guys!” It was a bit ridiculous, the way he had to shout to be heard, and the thought of what Luke must’ve sounded like to anyone at camp merely passing by the Big House made Amos’ lips twitch up. “Campers are starting to take sides,” Luke continued, “It’s like the Trojan War all over again! Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus.”

It didn’t escape his notice that the older camper had failed to say where the Hermes cabin stood. It made a hint of wariness rise up in Amos, as he thought about what must’ve been happening at camp. Were the other unclaimed campers siding with whatever the Hermes cabin had decided on? Amos couldn’t imagine they would. The tension between the two groups, while not always too extreme, was always present. For as much as camp liked to group them together, many of the unclaimed campers were too bitter, too unhappy with their circ*mstances. Often this meant purposefully disagreeing with the children of the traveler god. Usually, it was over minor things — Amos could distinctly remember last summer when Alabaster (the oldest of them, and the one they all usually turned to) persuaded all the unclaimed kids to pick his side in a debate he had with the Stoll brothers — but if the tension was as bad as Luke had made it seem… He worried about what they were up to.

“So what’s your status?” Luke continued, as though he hadn’t just delivered potentially disastrous news, “Chiron will be sorry he missed you guys.”

Percy sighed, suddenly seeming as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Amos felt bad for not realizing before just how much pressure Percy was under. It made sense after all, since Zeus was quite literally attempting to place the blame on him as an excuse to start a war, but Amos hadn't realized just how much it had affected his friend. Now, as Percy gave Luke a summary of all the things that had happened, all he could focus on were the bags under his friend's eyes, and his tired, slouched posture.

“Wow,” Luke's eyes were wide with surprise, “The Furies, Medusa, Echidna… it sure has been a rough couple of days for you guys, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Amos scoffed sarcastically. “If we make it back to camp I'm going to need to sleep for like a month straight.”

Percy laughed nervously, “Yeah, uh… speaking of sleep,” His green eyes averted their gaze as Amos turned to him with a curious stare. “Are demigod dreams normal? Because there's been some really freaky stuff happening in mine.” Percy reluctantly looked to Luke and Amos for answers.

He looked sort of guilty, like he felt bad for sharing this information, or for hiding it previously. “There's just this voice.” Amos stiffened at his words, as he thought about his own dreams. Nightmares really, not dreams. They had almost entirely disappeared it seemed — after the Arch, they hadn't reappeared — but he could still remember the voice that whispered in his mind. He had thought that it was simply the dream itself, but if Percy was experiencing something similar… Amos dreaded to think about what it all might mean.

Unaware of his friend's internal strife, Percy continued, “I think it might be Hades but… I don't know, it just feels weird. Maybe I'm just being stupid, I-”

“You're not.” Amos cut him off. Percy's thought process hit a bit too close for comfort. Those same words had floated around Amos' head plenty of times, and while he could accept them as true about himself — and didn't that say a lot about his self-esteem — he couldn't bear to think about his friend feeling the same way. “Demigod dreams are normal, sort of. It's why I'm on this quest to begin with, remember?” He nudged Percy lightly, trying to give him a teasing smile in an attempt to raise his mood and stop his negative thoughts.

I should tell him about my dreams. He thought to himself, When will there be another time? He deserves to know he isn't alone. But for as much as Amos wanted to tell him, it was as though the words had gotten stuck in his throat. It was illogical to be nervous about it; not only had Percy just expressed that he was going through the same thing, but the two of them were friends, and Amos knew he could trust him. He thought about saying it, and his lips parted slightly in anticipation but… Nothing. He couldn't bring himself to do it, and then Luke had begun talking again, and the moment had passed.

“Amos is right,” The older camper explained. “It's common for demigods to have vivid dreams. You're right that it could be Hades speaking to you, I mean that makes the most sense, right?”

Percy nodded hesitantly, like he was trying to believe Luke's words but just couldn't. Amos made a mental note to bring it up again later.

“Man,” Luke smiled, a strange mix of bitterness and wistfulness. “I wish I could be there. At least if I was, I could be a bit more helpful. We can't exactly help from over here, I'm afraid.” He let out a sigh. “Just stay focused on Hades, alright? It has to be him, he was there at Olympus at the winter solstice. I remember seeing him, I was chaperoning a trip.”

Amos' brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the words. “Gods can't take each other's magical items though, at least not directly.” The words slipped from his lips without a second thought. Normally he would've stayed quiet but… It just didn't make sense. Amos certainly wasn't a picture-perfect demigod, not with his weakness and general antisocial attitude, but he did know a few things — he'd been at camp for three years, of course he learned a few fundamental truths. One of those truths was that gods couldn't directly meddle with the various magical items they all owned. (The gods bickered enough as it was, Amos dreaded to think how much worse it'd be if that rule wasn't in place). It was partially why demigods were so important, they could do the gods' bidding.

For a moment after he had said the words, Amos thought he saw Luke's eyes flash with an indescribable emotion, but it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “That's true, to an extent. But Hades is the one with the helm of darkness,” He pointed out. “How else would anyone be able to sneak into the throne room and take the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible.”

Luke's words hung in the air for a moment, both Percy and Amos stiffening at the possible implication. After a moment, Luke had apparently realized it too, and his eyes widened as he shook his head vehemently. “Oh, hey, I didn't mean Annabeth.” He looked almost guilty, as though he were truly worried Percy and Amos would begin suspecting her. “She wouldn't do something like that. I've known her forever, she's like a little sister to me.”

The two boys exchanged a quick look, surely thinking the same thing. Annabeth would hate to hear that.

Before any of them could continue their conversation, the music stopped abruptly, and the man in the stall beside them let out a loud shriek before slamming his car doors and speeding away. It was so ridiculous Amos almost wanted to laugh, but it felt wrong to do so after the three of them had practically been debating whether Annabeth could be the thief.

“You better go see what that was.” Luke gave them a crooked smile. “Listen, you're still wearing the flying shoes, right? And you've still got the stuff I gave you, right Amos? I'd feel a lot better if I knew I've been able to help at least a little.”

Amos had honestly forgotten about it, the small pouch Luke had given him before the quest started. Like all their supplies, it had been left behind on the bus, and surely all the money and other things Luke had given him were burnt to a crisp by now due to the bus explosion. He opened his mouth to apologize, suddenly feeling guilty for being careless with the supplies after Luke had gone out of his way to help him, but Percy cut him off.

The son of Poseidon gave the older boy a fake smile, “Oh, uh yeah! The shoes have been super useful. And Amos has been taking really good care of the stuff you gave him. Right, Amos?” With his fake smile and pleading eyes, it was clear what Percy wanted him to do.

Holding in a sigh, Amos nodded. “Yeah… We really appreciate it. And I've been super careful with my stuff.” Truthfully, he didn't think he needed to play it up as much as he was — Luke had only given him a small pouch filled with the bare necessities, nothing crazy — but he could tell that Percy was pleased, and so was Luke if his smile was anything to judge by.

“Really? That's great, I'm so glad to hear it! When you guys get back to camp we'll have to catch up more, that way you can tell me all about the quest after you succeed.” Luke's gaze lingered on Amos, but with the mist beginning to fade it was hard to notice. “You guys take care of yourselves, alright?” His voice was fading now. “And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just-”

The mist was gone now, leaving just Amos and Percy. They were quiet for a moment, both staring at the spot where Luke once was. Amos was the first to snap out of it, letting out a soft sigh. “So,” He turned to look at Percy with a slightly awkward smile in an attempt to cover up his concern, “What'd you think of your first Iris Messaging experience?” He wanted to keep things lighthearted, but in the back of his mind, Amos was still fixated on Percy's nightmares. It was no wonder the boy looked so tired, it made sense that he'd been having trouble sleeping. Amos felt terrible for not noticing sooner and vowed to try to pay closer attention.

Before Percy could answer, Annabeth and Grover burst back in, making the pair of boys jump in surprise. They had been laughing, but after seeing Amos and Percy their smiles faded. He supposed the heaviness of their conversation with Luke lingered.

“What happened? What did Luke say?” Annabeth sounded worried, and all Amos could think about was what Luke had said about the thief being invisible. It can't be her, He tried to rationalize, There's just no way. But still, no matter how hard he tried, the thought stubbornly remained present in the back of his mind.

Percy gave them a fake smile similar to the one he had given Luke moments before, “Not much.” It surprised Amos a bit that he could be a good liar.

(The memory of the story he had told Medusa, about the four of them being orphans in a circus, came to mind when Amos thought of Percy's lies. Perhaps he needed to give the boy some credit, because he wasn't doing too bad with the lies now).

Percy cleared his throat, “Let's find someplace to eat. I'm starting to get hungry.”

Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks, like they didn't quite believe him, and for a moment Amos thought one of them might speak up, but then Grover had merely shrugged. “Alright, let's go! I'll never say no to eating.”

The four of them left the car wash, heading towards a slightly run-down looking dinner down the street. As they meandered over, Amos snuck a glance at Percy — who had apparently decided to just ignore the entire conversation and instead acted as though nothing had happened. He felt a sudden pool of dread well up inside him. Something about the quest and the conversation they had with Luke had put him on edge, and Amos had a sudden sinking feeling that this whole quest was much more complicated than it seemed.

Chapter 9: a god extorts them

Chapter Text

The diner they had found was slightly run down, everything coated in a strange perpetual stickiness. Normally Amos would’ve complained, but after all that had happened so far, he figured he could deal with a slightly messy diner.

His stomach gave a loud rumble as he took in the smells of the place — greasy burgers, and fries, and an aroma of coffee that lingered even though it didn't look like anyone was drinking any. It was almost like Aunty Em's place, but hopefully without the bloodthirsty monster.

A waitress slowly made her way over, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Why would she be suspicious, Amos thought to himself, his internal voice snide and snarky. Four teenagers with no adult, stuck in the middle of nowhere. That was totally normal.

Still, despite being hyperaware of how odd they looked, Amos tried his best to put on what he hoped was a casual smile. “Hi, could we uh, order dinner, maybe?” Though his words had started slightly confident, that dissolved very quickly as the waitress continued giving them an unamused stare.

“You kids have money to pay for it?”

Amos really could have started tearing up at her words, and he was sure the others were equally as strung out and exhausted. Forget monsters, capitalism was the real thing out to get them on this quest. Their funds had depleted so quickly it was almost comical, and everywhere they turned it seemed their finances were the main issue. All they wanted was for one thing to go easily, was that too much to ask for? Couldn't this lady just give them a break?

“Well, actually-” Percy began, his eyes nervous as he struggled to come up with some sob story that might get them free food — whatever he had planned, Amos hoped it was better than the weird circus orphan thing he had told Medusa — but they were saved from his wonderful improvisation skills when a loud rumble echoed throughout the building.

They could practically feel the vibrations from the motorcycle outside, and all conversations in the diner came to a screeching halt. It was an intimidating sight, with glaring red lights and a shotgun holster — Amos hadn't even known you could do that. The biker himself matched his bike, equally menacing. He had a large stature, broad shoulders, and a face with a seemingly permanent scowl.

Amos could have guessed that he was a god, though admittedly, all the mortals abruptly standing as if to show respect for this random biker kind of gave it away. With a wave of his hand, they all sat back down, acting as though nothing had happened. It left Amos and the others looking at each other with skeptical looks.

“You kids have money to pay for it?” The waitress repeated, her expression a perfect mirror of what it had been before the biker entered.

“It's on me.” The biker said, his voice gruff. He slid into the side of the booth that held Amos and Annabeth, crowding both of them in a way that forced them to press as close to the window as possible. Amos was glad that the two of them were friendly enough with each other because at this point he was practically in her lap, trying his best to distance himself from the god.

He felt a sudden rush of frustration and anger. What's with this guy? He might be a god sure, but does that mean he has no sense of personal space? Amos' brows furrowed, and his face settled into a firm frown.

The others had settled into similarly irritated attitudes, frowns slowly beginning to make their way to their faces. “Are you still here?” The god said, one brow raised as he stared at the waitress like she was dirt on the bottom of his shoe. It made Amos feel bad for her — she certainly didn't get paid enough to deal with the whims of a god. She whirled around swiftly, marching back to the kitchen stiffly, leaving them alone with the mystery god.

Really, Amos was almost positive it was Ares, but never having seen the god before, he couldn't be sure. During the winter solstice, only a select few campers had been able to go up to Olympus, Annabeth and Luke included. Naturally, that meant campers like Amos who'd been there for years got the option to go too, but when the time came he had decided to stay out of it.

The idea of going up there and coming face to face with the gods, one of which was his parent just stung too much. It felt pathetic; he would've gone there and stared at them with pleading eyes just to be ignored once more. A handful of the unclaimed kids had stayed behind for similar reasons, and so did the newer campers who had yet to settle at camp. Amos didn't regret his decision — he still didn't know if he'd be able to do it, go to Olympus and face the gods — but it did make the quest a bit harder. While Annabeth and even Grover could recognize the gods since they had seen them, Amos was just as clueless as Percy.

(He tried not to be too affected by the fact, but it did cause a slight ache in himself. The fact of the matter was that Amos should’ve known better, given how many years he’d been at camp, and yet he still only had the same amount of knowledge as someone who was new to this whole world).

The god turned to Percy, whose frown had turned into a firm scowl, and shot him a grin. “So you’re old Seaweed’s kid huh?” Amos wasn’t one to stereotype, but the blunt attitude combined with the intimidating aura that reminded him of Clarisse but way, way more intensified, almost made it comical how obvious it was that the god before them was Ares.

Percy seemingly hadn’t realized though, as he glared at the god fiercely, “What’s it to you?”

“Percy-” Annabeth said, eyes wide and nervous. Grover looked scared too, anxiously biting his lip as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Luckily for all of them, but particularly Percy, who would have been struck down otherwise, Ares didn’t seem too offended. Instead, he laughed, raising a hand as if to wave her off, “S’okay. I don’t mind a little attitude,” He shrugged. “Long as you remember who’s the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?”

If it weren’t for the literal god of war beside him, Amos might have laughed at Percy’s expression. His look of realization was too good, almost like a cartoon character with a lightbulb flickering on as he worked out who the god was. “You’re Clarisse’s dad. Ares, god of war.”

Ares grinned, just the slightest bit malicious as he took off the sunglasses he had been wearing, revealing his eyes. Well… not his eyes — instead of eyes like a normal person, Ares has literal flames in his eye socket, the flames bright and raging. Amos sort of wished he would have left the sunglasses on.

“That’s right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse’s spear.”

Percy’s reply came a bit too quickly. “She was asking for it.” Annabeth, Amos, and Grover all turned to him with wide eyes. It was like he was asking Ares to crush his puny demigod self. Amos shot his leg forward, kicking Percy’s shin in an attempt to stop his friend from accidentally getting himself killed because he offended a god. He hit him a little harder than he meant to, having to hide his sheepish smile when Percy winced and gave him an unamused stare.

Ares didn’t seem to care either way. “Probably. That’s cool, I don’t fight my kid’s battles.” Personally, Amos thought he was trying a bit too hard to seem nonchalant, but then again, he might have really just not cared. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, considering the track record the gods had when it came to their kids. “What I am here for, is you.” Ares sat back, spreading out as though Amos and Annabeth weren’t squished beside him in the booth. “I heard you were in town, and I’ve got a proposition for you.”

At this point, alarm bells were ringing in Amos’ head — maybe he just didn’t like the war god, but the whole situation made him feel odd, sort of like that feeling when you feel someone’s stare on you.

Before he could elaborate, the waitress returned with trays piled high with the most appetizing food Amos had ever seen (or maybe he was just really hungry). Milkshakes, and fries, and onion rings, and burgers, practically the whole menu. Ares paid with drachmas, which shouldn’t have worked, but he followed up by borderline threatening the waitress, taking out a large knife to clean his fingernails when she questioned him.

Needless to say, she had taken the coins and got out of there as quick as possible.

“You can’t do that,” Percy protested. “You can’t just threaten people with knives.”

Ares let out a laugh so loud and booming, other customers were beginning to stare. “Are you kidding? I love this country! Best place since Sparta. Don’t you carry a weapon, punk? If not, you really should. It’s a dangerous world out there.” His words were eerie, sending a slight chill down Amos’ spine. “Which brings me to my proposition.” The four of them exchanged apprehensive looks as they listened to the god’s request. “It’s nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was on a little… date with my girlfriend — we got interrupted,” Why the god felt it necessary to talk about his date, Amos didn’t know, and didn’t care really, but he certainly wasn’t going to express that with Ares around. He continued, “I left my shield behind, and I want you to fetch it for me.”

“Why don’t you go and fetch it yourself?” Amos felt like slamming his head against the table. They really should have a talk with Percy about trying not to anger the gods, though considering the stunt he had pulled with Medusa’s head, that talk might be ineffective.

The flames in Ares’ eyes burned with an intensity Amos hadn’t thought possible. “Why don’t I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don’t feel like it. A god is giving you the opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward? Or maybe you only fight when there’s a river to dive in so your daddy can rescue you.” Ares and Percy stared at each other with equally angry eyes. Normally, Amos might be offended that the god was only interested in Percy, but when since it was Ares… yeah, he was happy to sit this one out.

For a moment Amos thought Percy might agree. He had shown at Medusa’s that his anger could sometimes get the better of him, and considering how much Ares had angered him already, he was sure this would be another example. Which is why when Percy said no, Amos’ jaw almost dropped. He kept his composure of course, because how embarrassing would it have been if he had expressed his surprise like that? He could tell though, by glancing at the others, that Annabeth and Grover were equally as surprised.

Ares was more irritated than he was surprised, but he was a god, and in the end, they’d do anything to get what they wanted. In this case, all it took was a mention of Percy’s mom.

“My mom?” Percy breathed out. The desperate, pained tone of his voice made even Amos sad. It was a low blow, but one it was clear Ares was willing to exploit.

The grin he gave them was cruel. “That got your attention, didn’t it? The water park is a mile west, you can’t miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride.”

And that was that. Ares disappeared in the blink of an eye, which was slightly disorienting, and though they didn’t necessarily want to help, they had no choice. They had been called on by a god, to deny him was asking to be punished. His threat to turn Percy into a rodent lingered in the back of Amos’ mind. If he had to pick between that or doing a quick favor for Ares, Amos would take the war god any day — he really didn’t want to become roadkill.

Amos had never been to a water park before, so he really had no frame of reference, but he figured Waterland wasn’t the best first example. The place was pretty sketchy, with the sign missing letters and the main entrance fenced away with a padlock and barbed wire. Knowing who Ares’ girlfriend was, Amos couldn’t imagine she’d be happy meeting in a place like this. She must have cared for Ares a whole lot to be willing to put up with places like this, which was impressive considering how off-putting the war god was.

“If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date I'd hate to see what she looks like.” Percy, probably still a little frustrated and bitter from the conversation with the god spoke in a slightly mocking, sarcastic tone. Admittedly, Amos found it kind of funny, but then he remembered all the myths about Aphrodite's rage and winced.

“Percy,” Annabeth sighed, sort of like an overworked teacher sick of dealing with troublesome students. “Be more respectful. He's still a god, and his girlfriend is very temperamental.”

Grover nodded adamantly, looking a little dazed as he did so, as though he was thinking about the love goddess. “You don't want to insult her looks.”

“Who is she? Echidna?”

Amos snorted at his words. “No, and don't let her hear you comparing her to that monster.” When Percy still looked confused, Amos felt his lips twitch up into an amused smile. “Aphrodite? Goddess of love and beauty?”

Percy's mouth formed a silent oh in realization, but the look of confusion quickly returned. He furrowed his brow, unconsciously tilting his head slightly. “I thought she was married to somebody… Hephaestus.”

Annabeth shook her head, as though disappointed Percy hadn't caught on yet. “Things like that don't matter much to most of the gods. We exist after all, don't we?” No one could argue with that.

As though he was eager to change the subject — maybe he had sensed the awkward atmosphere beginning to brew — Grover took advantage of his flying shoes. He flew over the fence without even offering them a ride, “You guys coming?”

The glare Amos gave him in return for that line was scathing.

After a very uncomfortable journey, which consisted of the three demigods slowly climbing the fence, doing their best to avoid the barbed wire, they made it through. Despite the slightly rundown exterior, the inside of the park wasn't too bad. It had definitely been abandoned for a while, but it wasn't as though things were destroyed or even vandalized. In fact, it even had a fully stocked souvenir shop, filled to the brim with useless merchandise, but most importantly, clothes. All their supplies had been destroyed after all; they were all eager to change their outfits, and though no one would mention it, Amos was sure they were beginning to stink.

“I call first dibs,” Annabeth was quick to say, rushing forward and snatching almost an entire row of random assortments.

It was so appealing, the thought of getting to change clothes, but Amos stared at the racks with a mix of apprehension and anxiety. They were at a water park. For Amos, who wore long jeans and long-sleeved shirts underneath his orange camp shirt all year round, the sight of rows and rows of shorts and short-sleeved t-shirts intimidated him. It was bad enough that his concealer was days old at this point and beginning to grow extremely uncomfortable, but now he had to think about what might show if he did change into the Waterland clothes, or at the very least an excuse he could give for why he wouldn't change.

As Percy changed — Annabeth had come out at this point, clad head to toe in the obnoxious flower print associated with the water park — Amos lingered by the racks, acting as though he was still deciding what to wear and not like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Amos found himself lost in thought. If I get an oversized shirt it should cover the vitiligo marks on my upper arm, but my right arm has that big spot near the elbow… Maybe they have wetsuits, those have long sleeves don't they? And the shorts…

“Still deciding what to get?” Grover's voice surprised him, making Amos jump.

His heart raced as a sudden rush of guilt and embarrassment ran through him. “Uh, yeah.” Amos struggled to come up with a reason why it was taking him so long to decide, and a faint wave of panic threatened to rush through him as he raked his brain for an excuse. “Lots of options, you know.” He let out a light laugh, which even to his ears sounded nervous and false.

Grover hummed, staring at Amos with eyes that were almost knowing. “You're lucky that your jeans aren't in too bad condition.” He said nonchalantly, though there was a glint in his eye that seemed like he knew something, or at least he thought he did. “Mine are pretty decent too, so I'm leaving them.” Grover paused, before offering Amos an understanding smile, “I get a little self-conscious too, you know. Everyone does a little I think. For me it's kinda obvious,” He motioned to his goat legs, “I know the mist hides them but I still worry people will see. So… I know whatever it is you’re worried about isn’t quite the same, but I get it.”

Amos nodded slowly, internally feeling hints of guilt. Here Grover was, being vulnerable and confiding in Amos because he felt they had similar issues around self-esteem and body image, but the truth was, Amos was just a liar. He's being nicer than I deserve, He thought bitterly, Just imagine how upset he'll be when he finds out that I lied. Amos tried his best to push down the shame.

“I saw some hoodies back there,” Grover continued with a friendly smile, unaware of Amos’ inner turmoil. “Those might help if you’re feeling kind of uncomfortable.”

Amos could only nod, words caught in his throat. When Percy left the dressing room, he was quick to file in, changing into the new shirt and pulling on a faded blue Waterland hoodie as Grover suggested, hiding the white splotches on his arm that signified his vitiligo.

The clothes were definitely not fashionable, but they served their purpose. It also helped that the gift shop had plenty of backpacks, making it easy for them to stash their old clothes and any other supplies they picked up. Amos had snagged a water bottle for himself, along with some new shoes, socks, and a cheap set of playing cards for Luke. It wasn’t a big deal, but Amos felt kind of bad that he had lost the ones Luke stole for him, so at the very least he figured he could return the favor and steal back a replacement set.

As they walked through the empty park, looking slightly ridiculous in all the obnoxious merchandise, Percy spoke. It was as though he was unable to take the stifled, silent atmosphere, eager to clear the air. “So… Ares and Aphrodite, huh?” He said, slightly awkwardly. “They have a thing going on?”

“That’s old gossip, Percy.” Annabeth rolled her eyes and shot Amos a look, as though to say Can you believe this guy? “Three-thousand year old gossip.”

Percy’s brows scrunched together the way they always did when he was confused. “What about her husband?”

She shrugged, “Well, you know… Hephaestus, the blacksmith. He was thrown off of Olympus by Zeus as a baby, and he’s been disfigured ever since, so he isn’t exactly handsome. Smart, and clever with his hands, sure, but Aphrodite isn’t into brains and talent.”

“She’s into bikers.” Annabeth could only roll her eyes once more at Percy’s comment. Amos had though she was teaching him mythology stuff back at camp, but clearly they hadn’t gotten very far into it, with the way that Percy was still asking questions. “Hephaestus knows?”

Amos had to snort at that. “Infidelity isn’t exactly new to the gods, Percy.” He motioned to all of them, “I mean, we’re sort of living examples of that. Except Grover, I guess.”

Annabeth nodded, “That’s true. Still, Hephaestus doesn’t exactly like it. He’s always trying to embarrass them, like with the golden net. That's why they meet in places that are out of the way, like… like that.”

The structure before them was certainly impressive. It almost seemed a little too good for a place like Waterland. There was a large, empty pool, shaped like a bowl and massive in size. Amos was sort of glad it was empty; he wasn’t exactly a strong swimmer, and by that, he meant that he could maybe float, and that’s it. He’d never had much of a reason to learn before, considering the opportunity never arose back at the group home, and even back at camp he avoided the lake like a plague. (He had tried canoeing once, and his arms had gotten so tired he swore to never try again). Around the rim of the pool, were about a dozen bronze Cupid statues, which were just the slightest bit unsettling — but that might’ve been the lingering trauma from Medusa. There was a tunnel too, with a faded sign. Thrill Ride O’Love: This is Not Your Parents’ Tunnel of Love!

Peering over the edge, Grover’s eyes widened. “Guys, look!”

At the bottom of the dry pool, was a pink and white boat built for only two people, a small canopy over the top of it with cheesy pink hearts painted on it. It would have been inconspicuous, if not for the gleaming celestial bronze shield on the left seat.

“This is too easy.” Percy said apprehensively, “So we just walk down there and get it?”

Slightly distracted by the Cupid statues, Annabeth hummed in thought, “There’s a Greek letter carved here,” She murmured. “Eta…”

“Grover, you smell any monsters?”

The satyr sniffed lightly for a moment before wrinkling his nose. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Percy raised an eyebrow. “Like, in the Arch and you didn’t smell the Echidna nothing, or really nothing?”

The hurt look from Grover made Percy pause, “I told you, that was underground.”

Amos elbowed Percy lightly in an attempt to chastise him, though it wasn’t really necessary. “I’m sorry.” Percy ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten up as he mustered up courage, “I’m going down there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Grover offered, trying to seem brave.

“No.” Percy said quickly. His words made Amos stiffen. With one word, he had reminded Amos of what had happened with the Arch. The fear he had felt when he saw Percy fall, the frustration at him for not being willing to accept help. Amos wouldn’t let that happen again. They had already learned that trying to be brave when it was unnecessary only brought bad things. He wouldn’t let Percy’s stubbornness get the best of him, not again. “I want you to stay-”

“I’m going with you,” Amos said, glaring at Percy as though daring him to challenge him.

Percy stared at him with wide eyes, caught off guard by Amos’ determination. “Uh, well-” He seemed at a loss for words. “…Okay.” Secretly, Amos was a little surprised Percy had agreed so willingly, but he wasn’t about to complain. Instead, he nodded with a false assertiveness. Percy turned to Grover and Annabeth, who both looked equally thrown off by Amos’ sudden boldness. “You guys can stay up here, in case something goes wrong.”

They both had thought there would be more pushback, particularly from Annabeth, who Amos had expected to want to take charge, considering she was such a natural leader. Instead, she simply raised her eyebrows at them, a faint smirk threatening to appear on her lips. “Okay. You two have fun.”

Amos didn’t realize until they reached the boat why Annabeth had seemed so amused. He felt his face burn as he saw the faded sign. Thrill Ride of Love… Suddenly it was hard to look Percy in the eyes. It certainly didn’t help that Aphrodite’s scarf was also left behind, pink and perfect, and oh so tempting. Percy, in a daze, reached out to touch it, but before he could Amos grasped his hand.

Amos thought it might have been the love magic — he hoped it was just the love magic, he wouldn’t know what to think if it wasn’t the love magic — but as soon as he grasped Percy’s hand he became hyperaware of the other boy. The green of his eyes looked just a bit greener, and the touch of their hands felt so intense it almost tingled. He shook his head lightly, trying to snap out of it. “Stay away from that. It’s love magic.” Percy nodded slowly, his eyes still slightly dazed as he stared at Amos. His lips parted, as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Flustered, Amos took his hand off of Percy’s, clearing his throat nervously. “Come on,” He averted his gaze. “Let's just get the shield and get out of here, Barnacle Brain.”

Snapping out of it, Percy’s cheeks flushed, “Right…” He mumbled, reaching his hand out and grasping the shield. As he did so, Amos saw his hand break through something — an old cobweb, a trick of the light, it really could’ve been anything. Except almost as soon as it broke noise erupted all around them.

That certainly doesn’t sound good.

Chapter 10: heart to hearts and other awkward situations: part one

Chapter Text

To say that Amos was freaking out would be an understatement. The sound of gears grinding was almost deafening as the tiny Cupid statues — which Amos now felt justified for feeling strangely about — rotated, shooting cables in a way that threatened to trap them.

From above, Annabeth and Grover were yelling, “Eta! Gods I’m so stupid! Eta is H! Hephaestus! It’s a trap for Ares and Aphrodite!”

“Oh this is bad,” Amos mumbled, trying to rein in his panic as he and Percy attempted to climb up. The cables the Cupid statues shot at them were thin and golden, weaving together almost like threads above them. “This is really bad.” If they climbed quickly enough, they might have made it out; that is if it hadn’t been for the water.

When they were close to the rim of the pool, almost close enough to pull themselves out, small hatches, built so well that they hadn’t been noticeable before, opened up. One of them opened right in front of Amos’ face, startling him for a moment as the sudden appearance caught him off guard. Then a jet of water shot out, hitting Amos squarely in his face and making him lose his balance. He tumbled back down to the bottom of the pool, coughing and rubbing furiously at his eyes, which now burned thanks to the sudden onslaught of water.

Percy was quick to head back down, his hands helping Amos up and his mouth parted as though he was about to ask if Amos was alright, but before he could, the Cupids started acting up again. Video cameras popped out from the tops of their heads as a robotic voice spoke. “Live to Olympus in one minute… fifty-nine seconds… fifty-eight seconds…”

Water was beginning to rise quickly, almost to their knees at this point, and Amos felt his heart speed up as he scrambled back and clambered into the boat in a panic, significantly slowed down by the water. Percy followed after him, moving quicker and with much more grace. “Amos, what-”

“The water’s rising too quick,” Amos said, his breaths fast and his eyes alarmed. “It’ll be full before the countdown ends and I can’t-” Panic threatened to overwhelm him, the words getting stuck in his throat.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Percy tried his best to reassure him. It was a bit rushed and frantic, but considering the situation they were in, Amos didn’t judge him for it. “It’s just water, and you’re with a son of Poseidon. I think you’re pretty safe, all things considered.”

It was almost like his words were tempting fate because that was the moment more hatches opened up. These hatches were closer to the rim of the pool, and from them spilled out weird, mechanical-looking spiders. They scattered along the dry parts of the pools, as though sensing where the water was, and similarly to the Cupids, began shooting cables at the two of them. These cables were much thinner, almost barely visible, though when Amos tried to push one away it proved to be unnaturally strong. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the spiders had begun jumping, leaping with perfect precision to land on the dry boat. Amos had to try really hard to not scream once that started happening.

He and Percy had devolved into uncoordinated messes, slashing at cables and spiders as the boat rocked precariously. The robotic countdown continued, now down to fifteen, as the pair of them kicked spiders away, Percy’s eyes darting around as he looked for anything they might be able to use to their advantage.

“Grover!” He yelled suddenly, startling Amos so much he stumbled, sending the boat rocking. Maybe it was a son of Poseidon thing, but Percy was almost entirely unaffected — he looked natural on the boat, never losing his balance and having such a strong sense of confidence Amos was almost envious. “Get into that booth and find the ‘on’ switch!”

“What? You’re trying to fill this place with more water?” Amos’ voice went high as he felt yet another rush of anxiety.

“Just trust me!”

If Amos died like this, drowning at a stupid water park, on the love ride no less, he’d make sure to haunt Percy for life. That is, if he survived. Then again, Amos figured that if he could survive all that had happened so far, he could survive practically anything. When a moment passed and there was still no change, Amos was sure that this was the end. But then Percy clenched his eyes shut, furrowing his brows as though he was thinking really hard, and the water pipes exploded, right as the robotic countdown reached zero.

The water swept away the spiders thankfully, but now it rushed all around them chaotically. Spotlights shone down on them as the Cupid cameras were officially broadcasting to Olympus, which was pretty embarrassing, though Amos supposed it might remind his godly parent that he existed. Then again, he wasn’t sure this was something that would make his parent motivated to claim him. Yup, that’s my kid! The one who keeps falling over and freaking out! Yeah… Amos couldn’t see that happening.

Stunned by the sudden gushing water that had risen faster than he thought possible, and the blinding spotlights, Amos let Percy push him onto the seat, and pull the seatbelt on. He was glaring at the water, as though challenging it to disobey him, and for a moment Amos felt safe. Percy was right, he’s the safest person to be around in water, Amos thought to himself, almost embarrassed for doubting his friend. But then the boat nosedived, heading straight into the dark tunnel.

Both he and Percy screamed, Amos holding onto Percy’s arm as though he was his lifeline. His grip was so tight it aggravated his healing burn wound, making the skin stretch and ache uncomfortably, though the current situation distracted him from fully feeling the pain. They blasted past cheesy murals, depictions of Romeo and Juliet, Achilles and Patroclus, Orpheus and Eurydice, and any other tragic love story that existed. Amos was beginning to understand why people sometimes got sick on rides; it was a good thing that his terror outweighed his nausea, the last thing he wanted to do was puke all over the place while they were being filmed for the gods.

They shot out of the tunnel, the speed they were traveling making the wind whip harshly around them. It looked like they were nearing the end, which might have been a good thing if not for the fact that the end — a steep ramp that would land them safely in the clear exit pool — was blocked off. “Unfasten your seatbelt!” Percy yelled, trying to think quick on his feet.

“Are you crazy?” Amos tightened his grip on Percy’s arm. “We’ll go flying and-”

“We’ll get smashed to death if we stay! If we time in right we’ll land in the pool!”

The fear Amos had felt earlier rushed back into him, a cold, paralyzing feeling. “No! There has to be another way!”

“There isn’t!” Percy looked slightly frustrated now, his green eyes alight with irritation. “Jump on my mark!”

It felt as though hands had come up, squeezing Amos’ chest and his throat as panic seized him once more. “I-I can't,” Tears had welled up in his eyes at this point, desperation, and hysteria clouding every part of his mind. “Percy, I can’t swim, I’ll-” The word drown remained unsaid, his throat too tight with emotion to speak, but Percy knew what he meant.

Amos jumped when he felt Percy’s hand on his, squeezing lightly as he stared at him with unwavering resolve. They were really cutting it close, approaching the ramp with increasing speed, but Percy acted as though that wasn’t happening, as though they weren’t speeding towards probable death. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine! Just trust me!”

And well… when he stared at him like that, eyes vibrant and confident and fearless, how could Amos say no? He nodded shakily, and slowly stood up, grasping onto Percy’s hand tightly.

Percy hesitated, eyes squinting as he tried to best time the jump. “Okay…” His voice shook slightly, showing the nerves he had done so well to hide. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze darting to Amos before they refocused. “Now!”

They had gotten lucky, jumping just barely at the right time as they narrowly avoided hitting the gates and instead headed straight to the pool as planned. Grover, however, wasn’t as lucky. He flew above them, likely in an attempt to catch them before any harm could happen, but his timing was off. Instead, he smacked straight into one of the photo board signs with a groan. Vaguely they could hear Annabeth yelling after him, likely trying to see if their satyr friend was okay, but Amos and Percy were too busy doing screaming of their own.

Amos clenched his eyes shut as he braced himself for the impact, but when he actually hit the water, it was softer than he thought it’d be. It was freezing, sure, but rather than the harsh landing he had expected, it was almost like the water embraced him. It sucked the both of them down, almost gently, before pushing them back towards the top.

When they broke the surface, Amos took in a large, gasping breath. While he felt thoroughly disheveled, Percy seemed mostly fine, though perhaps a bit shocked. Their eyes met, and Percy gave him a shaky smile, “Told you that you’d be safest with a son of Poseidon.”

Amos let out a laugh, and once he started he couldn’t stop. He was just so relieved, so glad that he hadn’t died on an embarrassingly cheesy death trap, glad that Percy was the one he went through it with. Percy joined in soon after, and the two of them dissolved into fits of laughter. They probably seemed crazy to anyone else, but after all they had just been through, Amos thought they were allowed to indulge in a little weirdness.

Amos wiped his eyes as their laughter died down, just in time for Annabeth and Grover to appear. They stood farther off, separated from them by a tall chain link fence. “Are you guys coming or are we going to have to drag you out?” Annabeth yelled out, her arms crossed in irritation.

“Sorry!” Amos winced. He had gotten so caught up in everything he had almost forgotten about their quest, and about the heavy celestial bronze shield Percy had strapped to his arm. “We’re coming!” Turning to Percy, feeling much lighter after the near-death experience, Amos gave him a teasing smile, “Guess we shouldn’t leave them waiting too long, huh?”

Instead of joking back as he expected, or giving him a sarcastic remark, Percy merely stared at him with furrowed brows, his smile fading into a confused frown. “Your… your face, it’s-” His head tilted slightly like he couldn’t quite figure out the words he wanted to say. “Is that… normal?”

“What are you-” Amos touched his face lightly, before remembering. He had been distracted — almost dying tends to do that to a person — and so caught up in his fear of drowning that it had slipped his mind to be careful. As he stared down at his hand, the pads of his fingers stained with the watery brown of his concealer, he felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. No matter how many breaths he took in, it was never enough. He knows. He knows and now he’s going to hate me or laugh and- Gods, he’ll tell everyone and-

Percy’s voice broke him out of his spiraling, eyes wide with worry. “H-hey, Amos, breathe, alright? Everything’s fine, okay? Just… Just try to take deep breaths.” He sounded frazzled, like he was unsure of how to even help. Biting his lip, Percy mumbled a quick sorry before he spun Amos around, switching their positions so that Amos’ back was facing Annabeth and Grover, his face hidden from view. The movement should have been difficult, considering they were waist-deep in water, but Percy was Percy, and he urged the water to push Amos in the right direction. The sudden movement surprised Amos enough to stop his mild hyperventilating. “Give us a sec!” Percy shouted towards their friends, ignoring the frustrated grumbling Annabeth let out in response.

Amos stared at him dumbfounded. “What… Why…?” He struggled to put his feelings into words, leaving him feeling all sorts of conflicted and frustrated.

“You want to hide it, right?” Percy said simply. He paused for a moment, growing slightly nervous under Amos’ stare. “I mean, that’s what I assumed at least, you don’t want anyone to see, which means you probably don’t want me to see either, not that I know what I’m seeing, but it’s fine either way. I mean I don’t have a problem with anything but even if I did it doesn’t matter because it’s your body- well face, but same thing.” The words spilled out of him almost uncontrollably, and weirdly, Amos felt almost comforted by it. At least he wasn’t the only nervous wreck around.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, “But I-” I lied, sat on the tip of his tongue. I hid things and I’m still hiding things and I’m a coward and I’m a freak.

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy tried to give him a reassuring smile, though it came out slightly awkward. “Just… do what you have to. I’ll cover for you when we go back.”

Truthfully, Amos sort of felt like he was dreaming. A strange, out-of-body sensation filled him, almost like it was someone else controlling his body, allowing him to move on autopilot. His hands reached up — shaking slightly, still wracked with nerves — gently patting and dragging the leftover concealer to cover up the white splotches once more. The makeup had stayed pretty good, despite the treatment it had gotten; if it weren’t for the water shooting into his face and making Amos rub at his eyes aggressively, it probably wouldn’t have faded so much. Without a mirror, Amos was left guessing, trying his best to cover up the splotches. “Is it… Can you still…?” His voice came out soft, almost ashamed.

Percy stared at him for a moment, his eyes mixed with emotions. “It’s fine now,” He gave Amos a slightly strained, crooked smile. “You’d never know.”

“Would you guys hurry up!” Annabeth’s frustrated voice yelled, “I’m about to send Grover over there!”

Amos winced. He wished he could curl in on himself, make himself small and insignificant so that he wouldn’t have to deal with anything. Now Percy knows and Annabeth’s mad at us… “I guess we should-” He froze as he stared at the boat with wide eyes, the annoying Cupid statues facing them, still broadcasting. The shame and embarrassment he had been feeling before doubled. “Were those things recording the whole time?” Amos’ voice sounded strained, going up an octave as he stared at the figures. Not only had they broadcasted his fear during the ride, but they’d also caught his breakdown after — it was bad enough that Percy knew he was a liar, but now all of Olympus knew too…

Percy grumbled, glaring at the Cupids as though his stare could light them on fire. “Show’s over!” He yelled out to them, before grasping Amos’ wrist — not harshly, but the movement still surprised the boy — and dragging him towards the edge of the pool. “We need to talk to Ares,” The shield, which was still strapped to Percy’s arm weighed him down slightly, though, with all his pent-up frustration towards the war god, you’d never be able to tell; Percy moved as though it weighed nothing. “He’s got some explaining to do.”

＊＊＊

To say the walk back to the diner was awkward would be an understatement. Annabeth was annoyed with them, partially because she thought they were just messing around in the pool after they had crash-landed — she hadn’t bought Percy’s excuse, despite the son of Poseidon insisting that the reason they took so long was because his shoe had somehow flown off and he had to focus and use his newfound water powers to bring it back to him… they really did need to work on Percy’s improvisation skills — and partially because she knew something was up.

Amos had retreated back into his shell after the incident, despite all of Percy’s attempts to make sure his friend was fine. Clearly, it was a deeper issue, one Percy didn’t fully understand, but he wanted to. He hated the way Amos had gone back to hiding, becoming reserved, shy, and nervous. That was the way he had been when the two of them had first met, unaccustomed to having friends, awkward, and just the slightest bit anti-social, but now that Percy had seen who Amos could be when he wasn’t isolating himself, he wanted him to stay that way. He liked the Amos who made jokes and had quiet sarcastic remarks at the oddest times, and who seemingly always blurted out his thoughts as though he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to lose this version of Amos, not over something as simple as appearances.

(Truthfully, Percy still didn’t quite know what it was that he saw. He could guess easily enough that his friend was wearing makeup, but he didn’t know why, not really. He also didn’t know what the pale marks on his friend’s face meant, though secretly he thought it looked kind of cool, at least the tiny bit of it that he saw).

Grover had sensed the strange shift in moods too, leaving him anxiously fluttering about as he struggled to decide who needed more support, Amos who had withdrawn, Percy who was sulking, or Annabeth who was irate.

As they walked into the diner, the bell chiming once they opened the door, Ares seemed unaffected by the miserable mood surrounding the young teens. He grinned at them, spread out across their booth smugly. “Well, I guess you brats didn't get yourself killed.”

Percy was unamused by his attitude. He dropped the shield onto the table carelessly, resulting in a thud so loud some of the mortals had looked in their direction. “You knew it was a trap.”

“Bet that blacksmith was surprised when he caught a couple of stupid kids,” Ares let out a booming laugh. With a cruel grin, he glanced at Amos, “Great show by the way. You look good on TV.”

Amos flinched back slightly as mortification filled him all over again. If he wasn’t feeling bad about himself before, he definitely was now.

Percy glared at the god, moving forward in a way that placed him between Ares and Amos. “You’re a jerk.” He huffed at the god as though he wanted a fight, which was an insanely stupid idea, but Ares was the war god after all, fights were what he liked.

Despite the blatant disrespect, Ares didn’t take the bait. He ignored the boy, turning his shield into a bulletproof vest and carrying it casually. “See that truck over there?” The truck itself was intimidating enough, one of those massive eighteen-wheelers, but it was the paint on the side that made Amos really nervous. Warning: Live Wild Animals.

He had not survived all of the obstacles they’d faced just to die getting mauled by a tiger or something.

The others seemingly shared his sentiments, Grover and Annabeth glancing at each other nervously as Percy gave the god a deadpanned stare. “You’re kidding.”

“Free ride west, kid. Stop complaining. And here’s a little something extra.” He tossed Percy a blue backpack in pretty good condition, stuffed with things like clothes and money, and most excitingly, Double Stuffed Oreos.

“I don’t want-”

“Thank you, Lord Ares,” Grover cut Percy off before he could really anger the god. There was still the threat that Ares might turn them into rodents after all. He gave his friend a pointed look, nodding with satisfaction once Percy took the bag — though he looked sort of pained doing so.

“You still owe me,” Percy said, once again staring the god down. “You promised information about my mother.”

Amos noticed the way his fists clenched on that final word. It was touching how much Percy cared for his mother, how desperate he was to get her back. Amos wondered what it’d be like to feel that way about someone, to love them so fiercely being apart from them would be painful. He also wondered, a bit morbidly perhaps, what it’d be like to be the one missed, to know that he was cared for in such a way. It must’ve been nice, the reassurance that you were loved. Secretly, he wondered if his mortal parent — whoever they were, wherever they were — missed him in such a way.

“You sure you can handle the news?” Ares raised an eyebrow at Percy, challenging him. When the boy didn’t falter, his smug grin grew. “She’s not dead.”

Chapter 11: heart to hearts and other awkward situations: part two

Chapter Text

Percy’s eyes widened and his whole body tensed as he processed the news. He stared at Ares with conflicting emotions, fear and hope and anger all mixing together. “What do you mean?” His voice was small, and Amos almost wanted to reach out to support his friend, but he was held back by what had happened before. His impromptu reveal had filled him with too much shame, and he was sure that once they were alone Percy was going to reveal his anger. Amos deserved it after all, for all his deceit.

“I mean,” Ares rolled his eyes, almost like it pained him to have to explain the situation, though he was the one that offered up the information. “She was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She turned into a shower of gold, right? That’s not death. She’s being kept from you.”

“Why? What’s the point of that?”

Ares scoffed, “You really need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control someone else.”

All four of them let the words sink in. It was a cruel move, to make Percy think she was dead. Then again, it was the gods they were talking about, cruelty wasn’t uncommon for them.

Percy glowered. “Nobody’s controlling me.”

“Oh yeah?” Ares laughed, the sound harsh. “See you around, brat.”

Ideally, this was where the god left and they hopefully never saw him again. Unfortunately for Grover, Annabeth, and Amos, Percy’s temper once again got the best of him. “You’re pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues.”

Ares’ laughter turned dark and angry, and a hot gust of wind washed over all four of them. “You’ve got jokes, huh? We’ll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you’re in a fight… watch your back.”

“Well, that was fun,” Grover said, a weak attempt at a joke as they watched Ares drive away on his motorcycle.

“That was stupid,” Annabeth corrected. She crossed her arms and gave Percy a dirty look. “You don’t want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god.”

If Amos wasn’t so in his head about everything, he would have spoken up in agreement with Annabeth.

“I don’t care.” Percy pushed away their concerns and made his way to the truck with an irritated glint in his eye. The rest of them followed suit, Annabeth huffing in frustration as Grover and Amos stayed silent.

The inside of the truck was more awful than Amos had thought it’d be, but not in the way he expected. He’d been expecting fearsome animals, growling and snarling and generally terrifying. Instead, the inside of the truck was just sort of… sad. It smelled awful too, so bad that it had his eyes watering.

Percy uncapped his sword, allowing the gleaming metal to light their way. Despite how large the truck was, there weren’t many animals at all. Three sad looking cages had been loaded in, one with a zebra, whose mane was matted with gum and dirt, another with a lion so thin you could count almost his ribs, and the last one with an antelope, who had a deflated balloon tied to one of its horns.

The sight was depressing, and Amos’ fear instantly went away. The only creature he was still a bit apprehensive about was the lion, but he looked almost too weak to do damage.

“This is kindness?” Grover said, his voice outraged. It was a strange sight since for the most part, none of them had ever really seen the satyr angry. “Humane zoo transport?” He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to go on a rant, but then the truck roared to life. The floor vibrated and they all held onto each other as the truck lurched forward.

Once they actually settled down, making themselves comfortable (or as comfortable as they could) on lumpy old feed sacks, an awkward silence enveloped them. The bad moods they were all in had affected their dynamic. Gone were their jokes and playful teasing, now the four of them were quiet, almost uncomfortably so.

Grover, perhaps tired from flying into a sign earlier when he tried to save them, or from all the communicating he’d done with the zoo animals to try and help them out — which was as weird as it was cool — was the first to really make himself comfortable. He curled up on a bag of turnips, which seemed uncomfortable, but the satyr had made himself comfortable quicker than any of the others.

Annabeth, who had settled in one of the corners, munching away at the Double Stuffed Oreos, broke the strange silence that had developed. “When… When you talked to Luke,” Her voice was soft, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Did he really say nothing?” There was just the slightest bit of desperation in her voice, almost unnoticeable but still there, and Amos suddenly felt bad.

The quest had been hard for him because he just wasn’t good at all this stuff — fighting and thinking quick — but throughout the entire thing, he’d frame Annabeth as confident. She was a leader, secure in herself, just the right kind of person to be on a quest. He hadn’t thought about how being gone from camp might be hard for her. Camp was her home; she had been there longer than most campers, and her embarrassing crush on Luke aside, he was her oldest friend. Even Amos was starting to feel a bit homesick, though not necessarily for camp; even though he didn’t have any friends at camp (besides Gleeson, but the older satyr spent a lot of his time traveling, taking his job as a Protector looking out for young demigods very seriously) he missed being around the kids in Cabin Eleven. He never thought he’d say it, but he even missed his sleeping bag, and he hoped no one would steal the ragged thing while he was gone. Amos imagined that for Annabeth, these feelings were ten times worse. She had more things to miss — Luke, a cabin with an actual bed, her siblings. These thoughts floating around his head made Amos feel guilty as she stared at him and Percy with hopeful eyes.

The two boys glanced at each other, and truthfully Amos didn’t know what the right thing to do was. Luke’s words lingered in the back of his mind. How else would anyone be able to sneak into the throne room and take the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible.

Despite the doubt, Amos trusted Annabeth, and he was sure Percy did too. He nodded lightly, hoping to convey that sentiment to Percy.

He stared at Amos, pursing his lips as he decided what exactly to tell her. “Luke told us you guys go way back.” His green eyes darted to their satyr friend for a moment. “He also said Grover wouldn’t fail this time. No one’s going to turn into a pine tree.”

As soon as the words left Percy’s mouth, Grover and Annabeth stiffened. The uncomfortable silence echoed around them once more before Grover bleated sadly. “I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning.” His voice wavered, almost like he was about to cry. “I thought… I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn’t want me to come along with you.”

His words stung, piercing through Amos like an arrow. He wanted to tell the satyr that he was wrong. They’d never think of him as a failure, he was their friend and he didn’t deserve to be plagued with such negative thoughts. But as much as he thought that, a cynical voice echoed in the back of his mind, Don’t those words sound familiar? That’s what you think about yourself all the time. If you say Grover doesn’t deserve those thoughts, why do you think you do? That kind of thinking left Amos feeling oddly exposed, like all his insecurities had been poked and prodded one by one, analyzed and stripped down in a way that just made them seem stupid.

“You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus,” Percy said the words like they were a statement, not a question.

Grover nodded, averting his eyes, which were now red and teary.

“Luke and I were the other two demigods,” Annabeth said. Her eyes had a sad, faraway look to them. “I was seven, and a seven-year-old can’t exactly make it far alone. Athena guided me to them, towards help. Thalia was twelve, and Luke was fourteen. They had both run away from home and they were just… amazing.” She rubbed her eyes, likely wiping away tears, but no one would ever call it out. “They fought monsters with no training, and they were brave and kind, and… they took me in. We’d been traveling North from Virginia for two weeks before Grover found us.”

The satyr picked up where she left off, his eyes misty as he sniffled. “I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp. Just Thalia. We’d gotten word that Hades was after her, so I was supposed to lead her to safety but… I saw Annabeth and Luke and I couldn’t leave them. I was- I am a Protector. It’s my job to lead half-bloods to safety, how could I ever leave them behind? I thought I could do it, lead all three of them to camp.” He scoffed, wiping his nose as he shook his head miserably. “I was stupid. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up to us. I panicked and froze up and if I’d just been a little quicker-”

“Stop it,” Annabeth said firmly, cutting off their friend’s spiral. It was obvious that this was something the satyr had thought long and hard about, probably too long. It haunted the both of them, all the things that had gone wrong, all the things they could’ve done differently. Amos ached for his friends. “No one blames you. Thalia didn’t.”

“The Council of Cloven Elders do. They said it was my fault.” He said. He sounded bitter and sad, so unlike his usual cheerful self. “She sacrificed herself to save us. All because I couldn’t do my job.”

“Because you wouldn’t leave two kids behind?” Percy asked incredulously, “That’s not fair.”

Amos nodded in agreement. “What you did — trying to save them all — that was brave.” He surprised himself by how firm he sounded. Although it seemed like he could never be kind to himself, Amos had found that for his friends — it felt weird, deciding that they were friends finally, but he figured if they were spilling their tragic backstory to him, they must’ve trusted him — he could be strong and kind. “The council is stupid anyway. Gleeson is always complaining about them.”

His words made Grover, who was familiar with the older, brash satyr, crack a smile, which in turn had Annabeth and Percy relaxing slightly as the young satyr’s mood improved.

“They’re right,” Annabeth said, her tone leaving no room for arguments. “I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you, Grover. Neither would Luke or Percy. We don’t care what the council says.”

Grover smiled weakly. “Just my luck, huh? I’m the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy.”

“You’re not lame, you’ve got more courage than any satyr I’ve ever met,” Annabeth reassured him. “Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. We’re all really glad you’re here right now. Right, guys?” She kicked her legs out, discreetly hitting Percy in the shin as she glared at Amos.

It wasn’t really necessary, considering how much they all cared about Grover. Both Amos and Percy were quick to agree with her. “Yeah. It’s not luck that you found Thalia and me,” Percy told him, his faint smile genuine. “You’ve got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You’re a natural searcher. That’s why it’ll be you who finally finds Pan.”

Their satyr friend sniffled lightly, and for a moment Amos thought he was going to argue with them again, denying his self-worth. Instead, Grover simply wiped his eyes and nodded. “Thanks.” His voice was soft, almost like he still didn’t fully believe their words, but that was fine. They would make sure to remind Grover how much they cared for him as the quest went on, Amos was sure of it.

The silence that surrounded them was no longer uncomfortable and stifling, instead, it was almost comforting, well, it was for everyone except Amos. His mind was reeling — whether it was from the tunnel of love, Percy finding out his secret (sort of), or the sudden heart to heart they were all having, Amos wasn’t sure — and his head spun with contradictory thoughts.

He thought of all they had been through so far, how well he thought he knew them after such a short time, how safe he felt around them, his guard lowering more than he ever thought it would. He thought about all his inner thoughts, those fears and insecurities that made him feel less than worthless, the negativity that swirled around his brain like a constant storm. Amos was scared, more scared than he had been encountering the Furies or any other monster.

“We lied.” The words slipped from his lips, barely audible, yet all three of his companions whipped their heads to him with varying emotions. He didn’t want to do this, open himself up to them in such a vulnerable way, but part of him knew that if he didn’t do it now, he’d never do it. Amos was sick of it, the obstacles he made up in his head with his overthinking, complicating every little action. It was tiring trying to keep up such a facade. “About why we took so long to leave the pool. Percy covered for me.”

Beside him, Amos could feel Percy’s eyes focused on him, and he could feel the respective confused and skeptical stares from Grover and Annabeth, but he ignored them all. “What do you mean?” Annabeth was the first to speak, her critical eyes darting between him and Percy.

Amos clenched his fists in an attempt to stop the nervous shaking of his hands. “I… It isn’t that big of a deal, I mean it is to me, but for you guys… It doesn’t really affect anything, and technically there’s nothing wrong I just-” He huffed in frustration. Wording his thoughts had never been Amos’ strong suit. They had a tendency to get jumbled up, resulting in awkward half-sentences that never sounded the way he wanted them to. Rather than stumble over an explanation, Amos simply unzipped his Waterland hoodie and held out his arm, showcasing the uneven splotches of skin.

His arms and hands had always been the worst when it came to Amos’ vitiligo. Large pale marks littered his arms, a stark contrast to his warm dark skin. “It’s just a skin condition.” He said quietly, embarrassed. “It’s not contagious or anything, it’s just sort of… ugly.”

“It’s not,” Percy interjected. Amos still couldn’t bring himself to look at his questmates, but Amos could almost picture the way his brows were furrowed, the way they always did when he was frustrated. “It’s… interesting. And cool. It makes you unique.”

“Vitiligo?” Annabeth asked, as though wanting to clarify, though Amos was sure she knew what it was upon seeing it; she was smart like that. When Amos nodded in response to her, she hummed. “Why’d you cover it up?”

All three of them stared at Amos, waiting for his answer, and he found himself once again without words. There were a million things he could say, a million excuses. I hate it, it’s weird, it’s too different, it’s ugly, all swirled around his head. “I just…” He sighed. “Before camp, I was in foster care.” Amos’ voice was soft, his eyes focused on the ground. “When I was younger I went from foster home to foster home, until I guess they just got tired of moving me and stuck me in a group home. It wasn’t as bad when I was younger but by the time I was in the group home…” His finger trailed over one of the patches of white skin. “Kids are honest, you know? And sometimes they’re brutal with their honesty.”

Amos paused for a moment to look up, trying to gauge the reactions of his friends. Where he had expected to see judgment, perhaps even anger for hiding things, he instead saw that the other three were just sympathetic. They stared at him with soft eyes, sympathy almost turning to pity. Amos felt sick at the thought; he didn’t want pity, for them to feel so sorry for Amos they walked on eggshells around him. Fear sat heavy in his gut as he was struck with the thought of what might happen after, the way they would treat him now that they knew more about him.

He shook his head lightly, clearing his thoughts before he continued. “I was- I am different, this makes me different, and kids never liked that.” Amos shook his head as he relived those feelings, all those emotions of worthlessness and oddness washing over him. “I was sick of being stared at like I was some kind of disease, and I was sick of all the comments everyone made so I thought it’d just be easier to hide it. I use makeup,” He winced slightly at the confession. It was the first time he’d ever admitted it, and though part of him still feared their reaction to that, Amos tried to remind himself that these were his friends. They cared about him, they wouldn’t ridicule him. “I lost it when the bus exploded and I couldn’t reapply any so I tried really hard to make it last but…” He shrugged. “Getting doused with water kind of ruined it. That’s why we lied. Percy saw and covered for me so you guys wouldn’t know.”

Amos debated telling them more — about Penny and how she’d been his only friend before Percy even if she had only stayed with him for a week, or about his nightmares and the way they sometimes made him scared to go to sleep, or about how Gleeson was the first adult (the first person really) to look at Amos and want to protect him, the first person who had ever really cared for him — but he couldn’t bring himself to. He’d done enough emotional unloading for one night, Amos was sure that if he tried to do more he might have some sort of breakdown.

Grover was the first to break the silence that had settled over them after Amos’ story, his eyes still tinged with red from his own emotional story. He gave Amos a slight smile. “Thanks. For trusting us enough to share that.” For a moment they stared at each other, and Amos remembered their interaction at Waterland, when Grover had talked about his own insecurities. As their eyes met, Amos felt comforted by the feeling of camaraderie he felt. All of them knew what it felt like to be different, what with their world revolving around Greek mythology, but Amos knew that Percy and Annabeth didn’t know it the same way Amos and Grover knew it. The other two had felt different, and then found a place where those differences were normal, celebrated even; Amos and Grover had felt different and then found a place where they were still different, always the odd ones out.

“Vitiligo is just skin discoloration.” Annabeth frowned, her brows furrowing the way they usually did when she couldn’t believe the stupidity of people. “It’s normal, millions of people have it. They shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

Amos shrugged, a weak smile on his lips, “It’s fine. I know it’s strange for a lot of people, it’s strange for me sometimes.” He turned his gaze for a moment, an almost overwhelming feeling of anxiety in his chest as he tried to see Percy’s reaction.

His reaction had been the one Amos was most fearful of. Percy was his friend, the first real one he had made at camp, and though part of him knew it wasn’t logical, the larger, more emotional side of Amos worried that this would be the end. He worried that Percy would decide he was too weird; he had put up with Amos’ antisocial behavior, but maybe this is where he drew the line. Maybe he’d think Amos was untrustworthy now, maybe he’d judge the ease with which Amos had hidden his skin condition, a sign that he was deceitful.

A more irrational thought flashed through his mind, What if he thinks I’m the thief? I lied and hid things, and maybe he doesn’t feel like he knows me anymore... Amos pursed his lips, shoving that thought to the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford to think that way, it would only make Amos revert back to the nervous, cautious mess he had been at the beginning of the quest. Besides, Percy was a good person. He hadn’t done anything to make Amos doubt his sincerity.

As he glanced up, his dark eyes connecting with Percy’s green ones, he found himself lost in them for a moment. He looked for any discernible emotion in his eyes, trying to figure out how his friend felt, but Percy’s eyes (which were usually expressive to a fault) were unreadable.

After a moment, Amos looked away, embarrassed and disappointed as the lack of input from the son of Poseidon made him fear his worries were correct. As he averted his gaze, it seemed like Percy snapped out of whatever thoughts had been clouding his brain.

“It isn’t strange, or weird. It’s just… you.” Percy said finally. A light frown played on his lips. “I get why you hid it but you don’t have to worry about us treating you differently or thinking any of those things about you.” Annabeth and Grover nodded in agreement at his words. “And you shouldn’t worry about it at camp either. If anyone has an issue with it that’s their problem, not yours.” Percy’s voice was firm, the slight tone of sternness weirdly reassuring Amos. It made him feel nice, to know that his friends supported him, that they would defend him and support him.

Percy’s voice suddenly became sheepish, a faint pink spreading across his cheeks to his ears. “You’re one of my best friends. You all are. And nothing — not a skin condition, or a stubborn personality, or a weird obsession with tin cans,” Percy gave pointed looks to all three of his friends, the mood growing lighter with each word he said. “None of that is going to change the fact that we’re friends.” He looked around the truck with a small smile. “I’m glad you’re all here with me. I couldn’t imagine going through this with anyone else.”

Annabeth punched his shoulder lightly, eliciting laughs from both Grover and Amos. “We’re glad to be here with you too, Seaweed Brain,” She said. Her lips curled up into a teasing smile, “Besides, you’d sort of be lost without us, don’t you think?”

Percy sputtered, trying to think of a comeback as Amos laughed once more, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure if we weren’t here the quest would’ve been derailed back at New Jersey with Medusa,” He mimed taking a picture with a camera, “Especially since someone was so eager to model for her new collection of garden statues.”

They all laughed, even Percy who grumbled with false annoyance, and Amos felt lighter than he had in ages. He felt carefree, no longer burdened by his mess of insecurities. Truthfully, Amos was sure he had much more to unpack — in the back of his mind, negative thoughts still lingered, about his godly parent, about feeling unwanted, about a million other things — but in this moment, none of that mattered. For now, he was just a teenager joking around with his friends. He wished more than anything that it would stay like this, that they would remain happy and untroubled the way children deserved to be, but in the back of his mind, he knew it couldn't last.

They were demigods, entrenched in this world of gods and monsters, of fighting and killing, of war and thieves. Lives filled with ease just weren't made for them. Sooner or later, reality would come knocking.

Chapter 12: they make (more) bad decisions

Chapter Text

After unveiling all their emotional baggage, the teens rode in silence for a while. It was sort of nice, a comforting silence surrounding them as they all relaxed. Grover was the first of them to fall asleep — how he was able to do so with the bumpy ride and lumpy feed sacks they were using as cushions, none of them were sure. While he slept away, light snores escaping him, the three demigods sat in thought.

Amos was still reeling over his reveal. He never thought he’d be able to do it, talk about his vitiligo and the ways he hid it; he had gone so long holding those secrets in that he just felt weird. Light, and like a massive weight had been lifted off of him, but still weird.

Across from him, Annabeth’s dark brows furrowed in thought, her fingers playing with her necklace from camp. She was homesick, Amos realized, and he wondered if the discussion they had been having earlier, about Thalia and how she got to camp had brought up too many bad memories.

“That bead, the pine tree, is that from your first year at camp?” Percy asked suddenly. Apparently, he had been watching her too. Amos gave him a sharp look at the callous question. We just finished going into her childhood trauma where her friend was turned into a tree and you’re asking more questions about it? He seriously wondered whether Percy was lacking social cues, or if he just thought talking about feelings was more helpful. (The answer was probably both).

Annabeth didn’t seem to mind though, “Yeah. Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it in that year’s beads.” Her fingers traced the painted beads, not quite making eye contact. At this point, she’d been at camp for half of her life, arriving when she was seven and now on this quest at fourteen. The thought alone was strange for Amos to think about. He couldn’t imagine starting at camp so young, spending so many years there, but then again, he supposed he should get used to the thought. Camp was his home now too, it wasn’t as though he had anywhere else to go.

The seven beads on her necklace stood out due to their bright colors and strange designs. Amos’ favorite was the centaur in the prom dress; how they had managed to fit an image like that on such a small bead, he’d never know. Plus, it was the first bead he and Annabeth shared, the one from his first year. What mainly stood out on her necklace though, was the ring looped alongside the beads, resting in the middle.

Amos had always been curious about it, his eyes wandering to it often during the quest as he wondered why exactly she wore it. It was that curiosity that led him to blurting out words, the filter that prevented him from saying everything that came to mind slipping as he grew more comfortable and slightly sleepy. “That ring, is it from your mortal parent?” Amos didn’t know Annabeth well enough to know her whole backstory. He knew she was a daughter of Athena and a year-round camper like him, and that was it, but he tried to keep his words gentle. Most year-round campers didn’t exactly like talking about their mortal families, it usually brought on too many bad memories — some were dead, some had abandoned them, some just couldn’t take having a demigod for a kid, either way it usually wasn’t a happy story.

She stiffened at his words, her eyes turning defensive for a moment before she bit her lip, as though stopping herself from lashing out. “…Yeah.” She said simply. “My dad’s school ring.”

Her hands clenched around the ring, and Amos regretted asking immediately. He had known it was probably a sore subject and yet his mouth couldn’t help but blurt the question. A wave of guilt consumed him. “Sorry,” Amos winced, “I didn’t mean… I know mortal parents are hard to talk about, I get it.” He thought about his own complicated feelings about his mortal parent. “It was a stupid question.”

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head and gave him a weak smile. “My dad sent the ring to me a few summers ago. It was sort of… a symbol of his time with Athena. He always said he wouldn’t have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her.” Annabeth got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as though she was reliving old memories. She had to shake her head to clear her thoughts. “Anyway, he told me he wanted me to have it. he apologized and said he loved me and… he wanted me to come home, to live with him.”

A faint smile made its way onto Percy’s face. “That’s not so bad.” His eyes were light and optimistic, and Annabeth and Amos shared a brief look. The truth was, he wouldn’t understand, not like they did. Percy may have lost his mom now, and that was terrible, but he had at least known a parent who loved him. Amos — and from it seemed like, Annabeth too — hadn’t been familiar with a figure like that, at least not for a large part of their lives.

“It was.” Her voice was grave and terribly sad, like she was still mourning her fractured relationship with her father. “I believed him, and I tried to go home that school year. I-I did my best.” Her hand clenched around the ring once more, and Amos felt his chest ache for his friend. If there was one thing he knew for certain about his friend, it was that Annabeth put her all into everything, never one to back down or take the easy way out. She tried her best with her father, but it still wasn’t good enough; he couldn’t imagine how that must’ve hurt her.

Annabeth glared at the floor. “But it was dangerous, and my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn’t want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked, we argued. Monsters attacked, we argued. I didn’t even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood.”

It was quiet for a moment before Percy spoke up once more, “Would you ever try it again? Living with your dad.”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing with forced nonchalance, like the whole situation still didn’t bother her. “Please. I’m not into self-inflicted pain.”

“You shouldn’t give up,” Percy insisted. His words made Annabeth shift her cold glare to him instead of the floor, and Amos sent a subtle kick his way in an attempt to get his friend to stop, but to no avail. “You should write him a letter or something.”

“Thanks for the advice, but my father’s made his choice about who he wants to live with.”

Amos winced at her cold tone. He understood where she was coming from to a certain extent, though he couldn’t say he fully understood. Their situations were too different. Annabeth had come from a home, and had been raised by her father for a few years at least, she knew what a loving home was supposed to be like. Amos on the other had had never known anything but foster homes.

He remembered being young and being passed along to family after family. Some were nice, especially when he was really young, still cute and innocent, but it seemed the older he got, the worse the families got. He remembered vividly his least favorite home; they were an older couple with two other foster kids and two biological ones. Amos had been close to six then, chubby-cheeked and nervous to meet new people — he still remembered the way he tried to hide behind his social worker, scared to meet the people who were supposed to be his new family, at least temporarily. It had been fine at first, not ideal, but fine. The biological kids were a bit older, almost starting high school, and they each had their own rooms, wide and spacious with big beds and fancy computers. The foster kids on the other hand — Amos, a girl who must’ve been around eight, and a boy who seemed close to three or four — all had to share a room, twin beds against the walls, and always in second-hand clothes. Actually, it wasn’t all that different from his living situation now, crammed into a cabin with all the Hermes kids and unclaimed campers, sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags while everyone else got their own bunks.

He left that home eventually because the parents had decided that it just wasn’t worth the trouble, that he wasn’t worth it. He supposed they must’ve gotten sick of his vivid night terrors that woke the whole house, or perhaps they had gotten sick of his shy, timid nature. It didn’t really matter either way, in the end, they just didn’t want him. Amos was hurt at the time, sensitive in the way all kids are, but he was grateful for it now. In a weird, probably messed up way, he was glad he didn’t have to worry about a mortal family; it made dealing with magical demigod stuff much easier to handle.

As the conversation dragged on, Amos found himself drifting off to sleep, his blinking slowing down as his eyes grew heavy. It was funny, the way he wondered how Grover could sleep so easily just to do the same himself. His eyes slipped shut as he listened to Percy and Annabeth talk, their voices lulling him to sleep.

＊＊＊

Amos was glad to have no dreams that night, at least none that he could remember.

(Vaguely, he thought he could remember a short dream, but the details were already slipping from his mind. Something about a dark abyss, and a hypnotic voice).

He blinked sleepily as Annabeth shoved his shoulder roughly, “We’ve got to hide!” She hissed. Beside him, it seemed like Grover was doing the same to Percy, though he shook his friend a little gentler. It took a moment before Amos remembered where they were and what had happened, but then he made eye contact with the lion and scrambled up, hearing faint voices from outside the trailer.

For a moment Amos panicked, and he found himself once again wishing he had a cool invisible hat like Annabeth — this time for practical purposes and not just because he was anti-social. Not sure where else he could hide in the crammed trailer, Amos ended up just copying Grover and Percy, hiding behind the feed sacks. His heart raced as the trailer doors were opened, creaking loudly as bright sunlight was let in, illuminating everything. Amos really hoped their hiding spot was good enough, the last thing they needed was those workers catching them; if they did get caught what explanation could they even give for being there? Sorry for intruding, this Ancient Greek god smuggled us onto this truck because we have to stop a war. Yeah, Amos doubted that excuse would work.

“Man!” One of the workers exclaimed, sighing loudly. “I wish I hauled appliances.” He poured water into the animal’s dishes, and for a moment Amos thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe his coworker was really bad, and this guy was just trying his best with what he had available. That idea was quickly snuffed as he began mocking the lion. “Poor thing,” He said sarcastically. “Are you hot, big boy? Why don’t you cool off?” He splashed water directly into the lion’s face, chuckling as the animal let out an agitated roar.

Grover, who was hiding between Percy and Amos, glared at the truck driver fiercely. It was strange, seeing the satyr so angry when he was usually so kind and forgiving, but Amos couldn’t blame him for feeling that way, not when it was clear these men were terrible.

The truck driver tossed the antelope a Happy Meal before making his way to the zebra. “How you doin’ Stripes?” Out of the corner of his eye, Amos saw Percy tense as the zebra seemingly stared straight at him. “Least we’ll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You’re gonna love this one; they’re gonna saw you in half!” The man let out a booming laugh.

Amos felt his gut churning with fear and concern, worried about what would happen to all these animals once they left when a loud knocking sound echoed throughout the trailer. The truck driver grumbled in irritation. “What do you want, Eddie?”

From outside the trailer, a faint voice yelled out, “Maurice? What’d you say?”

Maurice? Amos couldn’t help but think, raising an eyebrow at the man from his hiding spot. This guy has got some nerve, abusing these animals like it’s some macho thing to do meanwhile his name is Maurice.

The knocking persisted, much to Maurice’s annoyance. “What are you banging for?”

“What banging?”

Maurice groaned, stomping out of the trailer and cursing Eddie for his idiocy with words so creative Amos almost wished he had a notebook to write them down. A second after he was gone, Annabeth reappeared. “There’s no way this business is legal.”

Grover, who was more irritated and snarky than usual due to the situation, rolled his eyes. “No kidding.” He paused for a moment, as though listening to something before his eyes widened. “The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!”

“Well…” Amos paused, staring at the animals in their cages with sad eyes, “We’ve got to free them, right? I mean, we can’t leave them here. You heard that guy say they were gonna cut up the zebra!”

His eyes turned to Percy, wanting to know his answer, and much to his amusem*nt Grover and Annabeth followed his lead, looking to Percy for his input. It was sort of funny, the fact that Percy had unknowingly taken on the role of leader during the quest. Maybe it should’ve been obvious since it was his quest after all, but Amos knew the reason they were looking to Percy was more than that. Percy just had that energy to him, like he was someone you just couldn’t help but trust and follow.

It seemed that the boy in question hadn’t realized that though, staring at them dumbfounded for a moment before he turned to look at the zebra, his green eyes intense. In a swift movement, he slashed his sword, freeing the zebra and letting it run out of the trailer. They ended up freeing all the animals, which was easy once Eddie and Maurice ran, chased by police hounding them for a permit.

It was chaos, and Amos wondered if maybe they should’ve thought things through a bit more as they heard tourists screaming as wild animals ran down the street. Even if it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Amos couldn’t bring himself to really care. At least the animals were free, and thanks to Grover’s satyr blessing, they’d stay safe. “We should probably go,” Amos said. “I’m pretty sure we just committed a crime by letting them all free so…”

Needless to say, they scrambled out of the truck quickly after that. Percy was already wanted for blowing up the Arch, they didn’t need more crimes added to the list.

As they walked down the crowded streets of Las Vegas, Amos found himself staring at everything with wide eyes. He’d never seen anything so grand. The buildings were flashy and bright, and there were street performers littering the streets; magicians and mimes, and singers. In all honesty, Amos probably would’ve gotten lost in the streets, distracted by all the new sights, if it weren’t for Annabeth occasionally nudging him forward.

He wasn’t quite sure how they had gotten there, not paying attention to where they were walking, but the group of four stopped in front of a casino. The Lotus Hotel and Casino, with a massive glowing neon flower and glittering doors. It was mesmerizing.

The doorman greeted them with a kind smile, which should’ve been a red flag but Amos was distracted by the fragrant air, floral and sweet smelling. “Hey kids, you look tired. Why don’t you come in and sit down?”

If they were in better conditions, with all their supplies, and if they hadn’t just spent the night in a smelly animal transport truck, perhaps they would’ve been more hesitant. Instead, they were tired and hungry, and the doorman had just seemed so nice that they couldn’t think of any reason not to trust him.

The four of them entered, and immediately Amos’ jaw dropped. The whole lobby was a game room, filled with fancy virtual reality technology, hundreds of video games, and there was even an indoor climbing wall on one side of the building. It was every kid’s dream.

“Hey!” A bellhop said, coming out of nowhere. The sudden sound of his voice had made Amos jump, startled, but the man himself seemed friendly enough. He smiled brightly at them, like he actually enjoyed his job, which again, probably should’ve been a red flag. “Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here’s your room key and your LotusCash cards.”

He handed the four of them shiny green plastic cards, and even though all of them were staring at the man like he was insane, the bellhop seemed unbothered. “Uh,” Percy stammered, glancing at his three companions with a lost look. “We didn’t-”

“Oh don’t worry about it! The bills taken care of already. No extra charges, no tips. Just go up to the top floor, room 4001. If you need anything feel free to call the front desk! And make sure to enjoy all the restaurants and games,” He winked at them. “That’s what the LotusCash cards are for after all.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, still skeptical, which was probably a good thing. Amos wanted to be skeptical but he was also dying for a shower so he was sort of willing to take his chances and head up to their room. “How much cash is on the cards?” She asked.

The bellhop only laughed, “That’s a good one! Man, kid’s these days…” He shook his head fondly. “Well, enjoy your stay!”

They watched as he walked away, and for a moment the four of them stood there, rooted to the spot. “This is weird, right?” Grover asked, his voice high and nervous.

“Definitely,” Amos said. “But I mean… it wouldn’t hurt to check out, right?” He glanced at Percy and Annabeth, waiting for their opinions.

Percy shrugged, and while Annabeth still had that skeptical look in her eyes, she didn’t seem too against the idea. The journey had been rough after all, they all were in desperate need of a break. “I guess if we stay aware of our surroundings, it wouldn’t hurt. It’s weird but we’ve got a little time before the deadline.” She decided, and that was that.

They made their way up the elevator and to their room, which Amos swore was bigger than the whole Hermes cabin. There were four separate bedrooms, and a kitchen stocked with all the soda and chips and candy a kid could want. There was a hot tub, massive beds, and a view that was to die for.

“This place is-”

“Sweet,” Grover cut Annabeth off. “Totally sweet.”

It was silent for a moment as they took in the sights, unsure what exactly to do. Suddenly, Amos became hyper-aware of how grimy they all were. Their clothes were sweaty, sticking to their skin uncomfortably, and Amos felt especially uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his hand, the concealer that was once there faded, and the minor burns he had acquired at the beginning of the quest were starting to itch.

He glanced at his friends before allowing his lips to quirk up into a teasing smile. “I call first dibs on the shower!” He laughed lightly as he ran in, snatching some clothes before he locked the door behind him, hearing the muffled groans from his three friends.

To say Amos needed a shower would be an understatement. He sighed under the warm water, feeling more refreshed than he had in days. He stared at his concealer-covered hands in thought for a moment debating. He had opened up already, talking about his condition and even showing some of the splotches, but Amos couldn’t help the irrational fear he felt about washing everything away. It would be fine, he knew that, but it didn’t mean it was easy for him, to let go of all those fears.

They’re my friends, He reminded himself. They trust me, so I should return the favor. Amos steeled his nerves, feeling his chest constrict as he rubbed the soapy lather over his hands, washing away the makeup and watching as the water turned slightly murky. Once that was done, he took a deep breath before washing his face, the last part of him he had covered with concealer. It felt good, washing away the layer of makeup that had quickly turned uncomfortable after days of travel, though fear still gripped his heart.

Once he finished, quickly dressing in the clothes he had found in the closet of the hotel — which was a little bizarre, since they were his exact size but he was too distracted to really notice — he wiped the fogged-up mirror with one hand, taking in his appearance.

The white splotches under his eyes and the smaller marks on his nose and chin seemed to stand out greatly, the contrast between the darkness of his skin and the whiteness of the marks too great. For a moment, he wished that he still had some concealer. He felt too exposed like this, too vulnerable. Amos looked down at his hands, the tips of most of his fingers completely white, with smaller patches on his knuckles and more traveling down his wrist and going towards his arms. It was strange, trying to accept this part of himself after hiding it for so long. The boy that stared back at him in the mirror, with uneven skin, his locs stopping just above his shoulder and a slight frown on his face didn’t exactly feel like Amos. It felt like he was staring at a stranger, someone unfamiliar to him.

He averted his gaze as he collected his dirty clothes and made his way to the door. It’s better this way, he tried to convince himself. No more secrets. He took a deep breath before opening the door, listening to the muffled voices of his three friends laughing and talking amongst themselves. Well… no more hiding.

Amos tried his best to seem casual as he made his way over to the teens, all of them sitting on a couch in the living room. He tried his best to ignore the way the other three teens had stopped speaking and the way he could feel their stares on him. “The water pressure in there is crazy,” He tried to joke, forcing his voice to seem casual and unbothered. Amos forced a fake smile onto his face. “Should I just throw out the dirty clothes?”

Annabeth was the first to snap out of it, “Oh! Yeah, you should, it’s not like we need them if this place has clothes.”

Her words seemingly snapped Grover out of it too, as the satyr nodded in agreement. “We did rock, paper, scissors to decide who’s next,” He said, before smirking lightly. “I won.”

Annabeth and Grover talked a bit more and Amos discarded his old clothes, ignoring the silence from Percy and the way he could feel the son of Poseidon’s eyes on him still. When he made his way back to the couch, Grover was already in the shower, and Annabeth had made her way to the adjacent kitchen, looking through the large assortment of chips.

Amos smiled uncomfortably as he sat beside Percy, trying his best to give his friend a little space. He was probably uncomfortable, Amos had decided, unused to seeing him without the makeup and adjusting to the new sight. It stung a little, but Amos understood it, it did look pretty strange to someone who’d never seen the marks before.

The silence between them was deafening, and Amos tried to act like he was busy watching the flat-screen tv, which was playing some cheesy sitcom.

“You look nice.”

Amos was startled by the other boy’s sudden words, so startled that he very intelligently blurted out, “Huh?”

He turned his gaze to Percy, whose expressive eyes flashed with embarrassment, and whose ears were burning a bright red. “I mean, without the makeup. You look- It looks good!” He let out a nervous laugh, “Not that it was bad before but…”

Amos couldn’t help the faint smile that made its way onto his face, and he hoped his own face wasn’t flushed, though he felt his cheeks burn slightly. “Thanks…” Amos averted his gaze back to the tv, trying to distract himself from the strange emotions bubbling up inside of him, while Percy awkwardly began drinking his soda and the pair of them reverted back to silence.

When Annabeth came back out from the kitchen, she stared at them like they were idiots, before shaking her head like she was disappointed. It was good timing for her to come out, as Grover exited the bathroom with a bright refreshing smile on his face. “I’m going in next. Try to decide what we’re doing next while I’m in there.” She ordered them.

With Grover there, whatever awkward energy that had surrounded the other two boys seemed to lessen as the satyr made himself comfortable in between them. “I feel great now,” He sighed happily. “I love this place.”

Amos snorted, “Don’t get too comfortable. We should probably only stay the night and then leave first thing tomorrow.”

Their satyr friend pouted slightly but nodded in agreement. They were still on a quest, they couldn’t exactly afford to waste time. “That’s probably a good idea… So what now?” Grover glanced at the two of them. “Should we just rest? Try to sleep a little?”

Amos was about to nod, but Percy spoke up before he could. He held out the plastic cards the bellhop had given them. “Play time,” He said simply. His smile was playful and his eyes light. The excitement he had was contagious, and Amos couldn’t help the giddy feeling he felt welling up inside of him.

Grover and Amos glanced at each other, smiles slowly forming on their faces. “We’ll have to convince Annabeth but,” Grover paused, and he and Amos each took one of the cards. “That’s a great idea.”

Chapter 13: percy takes a dip

Chapter Text

Annabeth was surprisingly easy to convince when it came to them taking advantage of the LotusCash cards. Maybe it had something to do with the quest and how draining it had been for them all — it was a well-needed break — but Amos secretly thought it had something to do with her finally taking a break. For as long as he’d known of her around camp, Annabeth had always had a reputation for being the responsible one, always ready to take charge. Even on the quest, for the most part, when they needed someone to steer them in the right direction, the three boys knew they could look to Annabeth for the right answer. He hadn’t realized it until she had excitedly agreed to join them in the arcade, but it must’ve been exhausting, having that constant weight on her shoulders. She deserved to enjoy just being a kid for once, they all did.

Amos had never really been to an arcade before, but the Lotus Casino was really exceeding his expectations. The four had tried to stick together, but then Annabeth set her eyes on this architecture game, and Percy wandered over to more physical games, and before they knew it they were all separated.

As he wandered, Amos did what he did best and blended in with the crowd. It was strange, being avoided again. Amos had gotten so used to Percy seeking him out and the company Annabeth and Grover provided that he almost forgot what it felt like to be ignored once more. If he were someone else, accustomed to different things, Amos might’ve been hurt by this, the natural aversion most people seemed to have for him. Now though, it almost felt weirdly normal, like this was the way things were supposed to be. It was sort of like slipping on an old sweater, the fabric worn but soft, and the warmth expected.

He weaved through the crowd effortlessly, people subtly moving out of his way without realizing it. Maybe I should look into if there’s a god of ignored people, Amos thought to himself, Pretty sure that’s my only natural talent. He fiddled with the plastic LotusCash card absentmindedly, looking for any game that caught his eye, but truthfully they were all just too flashy for him. They were overstimulating, with bright colorful lights and obnoxiously loud noises.

Amos stared at one of the games for a moment — one of those stupid shooting ones about hunting ghosts or zombies judging by the gruesome art flashing on the screen — when a boy bumped into him. The boy, who must’ve been only a couple of years younger than Amos barreled past him, laughing and yelling out an obviously false apology as he headed towards some sort of card game tournament.

“Nico!” A girl shouted, trying to run after him but slowed to a stop as she neared Amos, panting with her brows furrowed in frustration. Her voice had a light accent, though he couldn’t quite place from where, and she seemed unamused, as though she had been chasing the boy for some time. “I’m so sorry,” She told Amos. The girl looked to be around his age, with dark hair pulled back and a floppy green hat atop her head. Frankly, her clothes looked like they had seen better days, and they were strangely outdated, not super obviously, but enough for Amos to get a strange feeling in the back of his mind, like something wasn’t quite right. “My little brother’s a handful, I swear he’s usually not this rude.”

Amos blinked in surprise. Honestly, he didn’t think it was such a big deal, though it did surprise him that both kids weren’t avoiding him. He gave her an awkward smile, “Oh uh, don’t worry about it.” His eyes darted to where the boy had run off too. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, this young boy playing cards with a bunch of older teenagers — and judging by the way the teens around the boy seemed to grow angrier, winning said card game. “You should maybe go get him though,” He pointed his finger to where the boy was just a couple of yards away, oblivious to the growing frustration of the other players. “Those other kids don’t look too happy.”

The girl spun around and cursed under her breath at the sight in a foreign language. “That little…” She shook her head as she made her way over there. “Thanks,” She called over her shoulder, running off to save her little brother. “And sorry, again! I’ll make him apologize to you too!”

“Oh, that’s not-” Amos stopped himself with a sigh. She was already too far away to hear him. “That’s not necessary…” He shook his head in defeat. Something about the girl, maybe her attitude or the way she carried herself, made him feel like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. He made his way over to the shooting game. Might as well do something to pass the time, he reasoned to himself, but before he could even swipe the thin plastic card Percy came running towards him.

Annabeth was with him, her face bleak, but before Amos could even ask what was wrong, Percy grasped his shoulders. He shook him lightly, his green eyes wide with fear and anxiety, “We’ve got to get out of here!”

“What?” Amos frowned. “I didn’t even get to play a game.”

“Good! This place is… I don’t know, cursed or something!” Amos almost laughed at the son of Poseidon’s words, but his serious face and Annabeth’s calculating eyes stopped him.

“It’s like it’s frozen in time or-” Annabeth’s eyes widened momentarily before she slapped her forehead with a loud groan. “It’s like the Odyssey! You eat the lotus and you forget about wanting to leave! Gods, how did I not realize it…”

Taking in the seriousness, Amos pushed Percy’s hands off of his shoulders lightly. “We’ve got to find Grover.”

They went searching for him, only to find their satyr friend playing some weird version of a hunting game, the main difference being that humans were the prey, not the animals. “Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!” He shouted at the screen. (Which was strange to see, to say the least. Briefly, Amos wondered if he should maybe sleep with one eye open around his satyr friend).

They ended up having to drag him away, kicking and screaming the whole way. It was hard, deciding to leave the place when Amos so desperately wanted to stay. He thought about the soft beds that awaited them in their room, the unlimited snacks, and all the games he hadn’t even gotten to play. Every fiber of his being was begging to stay and enjoy it for just a bit longer. But he knew that they couldn’t, not with the fate of the world sort of riding on their shoulders. They ran out into a storm, lightning flashing dangerously over the horizon. As they left, a fleeting thought came to Amos; he had never waited for the girl and her brother and had never gotten that unnecessary apology.

Back in the Lotus Casino, Bianca di Angelo mumbled under her breath about rude boys. “Don’t feel bad, fratellino,” She placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder, steering him back to their room. “He didn’t deserve your apology anyway.”

＊＊＊

The taxi ride to Santa Monica was definitely something. How the LotusCash cards were able to work as regular money, Amos didn't know, but he supposed that since it was magical — because of course, with their luck nearly every place they'd run to had been magical in some way — he probably shouldn't question it. Of course, he did think the driver calling Annabeth Your Highness after she told him he could keep the seemingly endless change was a little much, but the girl herself seemed pleased with it. A little too pleased maybe, but pleased nonetheless.

As they drove, Percy recounted a dream he had on the way to Vegas. (A strange feeling flooded through him as a thought prodded the back of Amos’ mind, like it was trying to remind him of something. The feeling was fleeting, gone before he could really think about it and remember his own dreams from that night.)

“There was this throne room but it wasn’t the main part of the dream,” Percy explained with a troubled look on his face. “And there was this pit with a voice and… I don’t know, it just felt weird. It didn’t feel like a god’s voice.”

None of that sounded familiar to Amos, but Annabeth’s eyes widened and her face paled. “What is it?” Grover asked. “Did you think of something?”

“No, it’s just…” Her voice wavered for a moment before she shook her head vehemently. “No. It has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the masterbolt and something went wrong. Maybe the thief lost it or had to hide it, and failed to bring it to Hades. That’s what the voice in your dream said, right?” Annabeth didn’t wait for a response, continuing her rambling as though she couldn’t stop, her thoughts moving too fast. “The thief failed, and maybe that’s what the Furies were searching for on the bus when they attacked. Maybe they think we have it.”

Percy tilted his head slightly in confusion. “But if I already have the bolt, why would I go to the Underworld?”

The taxi became quiet for a moment. “Maybe they think you’re going to threaten Hades?” Grover suggested. “You know, like to bribe him or blackmail him so you can get your mom back.”

The atmosphere was tense as they all thought about their bleak situation. A thought flashed through Amos’ mind that if Hades didn’t have the bolt, they’d be in big trouble. The four of them had already lost five days thanks to the Lotus Casino, and with only one day left to return it, they were cutting it close. They were placing all their hopes in the idea that the god of the Underworld was so spiteful he wanted to cause a war between his two brothers. If they were wrong… well, Amos supposed that they’d have to be prepared for World War III.

Percy broke the tension, whistling lightly at his friend’s words. “You have evil thoughts for a goat.”

The discussion ended shortly after that, with Annabeth being weirdly cagey about the situation. It was clear that she had her own theory about what was happening, but judging by her reluctance to share any information, it must’ve been bad.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, Amos staring out the window as they drove. The silence gave him time to think, processing all that had happened to them throughout their quest. He had been so scared when they first began the quest, positive that he was going to die or at the very least be seriously mutilated. If he was honest with himself, Amos was still sort of scared.

He worried about how they would complete the quest in such a short time frame, and about what might happen after the quest. If they failed the aftermath was clear, there would be a massive war and they would have to keep fighting, or try to rectify it in some way. Even if they succeeded though, Amos worried that it would change everything. For the three years that he’d been at camp, Amos was content to fade into the background. He even sort of liked it, being able to avoid activities he didn’t want to do and generally not have anyone keeping tabs on him. Now though, if they succeeded, everyone would know who Amos was. The attention would be on the four of them, the first successful quest in years, and he just wasn’t sure if he could handle it. Still, he supposed that there might be some positives to being noticed for once.

His godly parent, whoever they were, surely couldn’t avoid him after this, if he helped stop a war amongst the gods and was declared a hero at camp. Amos usually didn’t like to think about his godly parent or being claimed, because he had spent far too many years being disappointed, but now he felt a bit of hope well up inside of him. If they succeeded, maybe he would make his parent proud, and show them that he wasn’t a failure. Maybe he could prove that he was a son worth being claimed.

By the time they arrived in Santa Monica, the sun was setting, which made Amos a bit nervous considering they had such a close deadline. The view was picturesque, and it reminded Amos of the way beaches looked in movies, with pretty waves and soft-looking sand. It was still pretty different than what he had expected though — the movies had never talked about the smell the place had, or the concerning amount of homeless people sleeping in the sand dunes.

The four of them made their way to the beach, stopping just before the sand turned wet as sea foam washed along the shore. “So… what now?” Annabeth asked, and she, Grover, and Amos stared at Percy expectantly. He was the son of Poseidon after all, it was his father who he was coming here for, so if anyone had any idea what to do, it had to be him.

They watched as Percy remained silent, his eyes locked onto the sea, before he began walking forward. He stepped into the water wordlessly, sort of looking possessed.

“Uh, Percy?” Amos said, his voice raising slightly in nervousness. “What are you doing?” When he got no response, Amos just kept talking, hoping that his friend would respond to something. “Maybe walking straight into the ocean isn’t the best idea. I mean this place has got to be polluted and-” Percy walked far out enough that his head was submerged and the three of them stared at the water in silence.

“Well,” Grover began. “I guess we just sit here and wait.”

Annabeth mumbled under her breath in frustration as they sat in the sand. “That idiot… He could’ve at least said something before walking out there…”

They waited for what felt like hours, but was probably closer to ten minutes, passing the time by talking about the games they had played at the casino.

“It was so cool,” Annabeth pouted lightly, like she was still upset she had been torn away from her game. “I was building this city and-”

They were interrupted by a splashing noise as Percy burst through the top of the water.

“Should we help him or…?”

Annabeth snorted as they watched Percy trudge his way towards them. “No, the sea’s his domain he doesn’t need our help.” She gave both Amos and Grover a teasing smile. “Besides, that’s his karma for just walking in there without explaining anything.”

When he finally reached them, Percy’s clothes were fully dry — he was so lucky that he didn’t have to deal with uncomfortably wet clothes due to his water powers; Amos still remembered the irritating way his clothes had stuck to his skin after the Tunnel of Love ride. “I met with this Nereid. She gave me these,” He opened his hand to reveal four gleaming pearls. “They’re from my father, I think. She said when the time comes we just have to throw them down.”

“When the time comes for what?” Amos asked, staring at the shiny pearls. They were beautiful, and he suddenly felt like he understood why rich people made such a big deal about pearl necklaces and things like that. It was a little ridiculous, but part of him felt kind of sad the pearls were an item they’d have to use, not something they could keep for themselves. If it wasn’t such an embarrassing thought, Amos might’ve asked Percy if he could get him a real pearl one day. He felt heat flood his face at the thought of it alone and quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

Percy, unaware of Amos’ conflicting inner thoughts, shrugged lightly. “I’m not sure. She just told me to have hope, and to be careful around Hades.”

“What did you offer her to receive the pearls?” Annabeth asked suddenly, her brows furrowed in deep thought. “No gift comes without a price.”

Percy frowned. “They were free.”

“No,” Annabeth grimaced, a grim look on her face. “‘There is no such thing as a free lunch.’ That’s an ancient Greek saying that translates pretty well. There will be a price, there’s always a price. We’ll just have to wait and see what it is.”

They left soon after that, their moods down as they thought about the grim situation that awaited them.

Chapter 14: they go to hell (literally)

Chapter Text

After a very traumatizing experience with another mythological figure — why they had decided to trust a guy named Crusty, Amos wasn't sure, but the stretching that he, Annabeth, and Grover had endured had left him sore and possibly an inch taller — they were finally headed to their destination, the Underworld. They had known that this was the plan the whole time, but as they neared the entrance, being directed by a map Percy had found in Crusty’s office, Amos couldn't help the nerves building up inside of him.

There were a couple of well-known myths about mortals traveling to the Underworld; Orpheus going down to try and save Eurydice, Adonis traveling there to be a lover for Persephone, and Persephone herself being taken there and made queen of the place. The stories that Amos knew were grand, with the mortals that traveled down to the Underworld being exceptional in one way or another — Orpheus with his musical talent, and Adonis with his supposed incredible beauty. When he thought about the four of them, well… As self-deprecating as it sounded, Amos wasn’t sure they measured up to those mythological figures. It made him nervous, anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach and weighing him down. He kept these thoughts to himself though, scared that if he mentioned it to his friends, he’d bring down the mood or worse, jinx them.

When they reached the building, which was opulent with its black marble and gold lettering, Amos realized he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Percy looked pale, his green eyes wide with worry as he stared through the window and into the crowded lobby. “You guys remember the plan, right?”

Beside him, Grover bleated nervously. “The plan. Yup… I love the plan.”

The plan in question was actually pretty stupid, but they were short on time and no one else had any better ideas so they were sort of stuck with it. They were supposed to sneak in and act like normal spirits headed to the Underworld. How they were supposed to fool anyone, Amos wasn’t sure, but he just hoped they didn’t get killed in the process and end up in the Underworld for good. “So, quick question,” Annabeth began, trying and failing to act like she wasn’t scared at all. “What happens if the plan doesn’t work?”

“Don’t think negatively.” Percy tried to brush her off, probably because he didn’t actually have an answer to her question.

“Are we seriously heading down to the Underworld and just winging it? No backup plan?” Amos’ face was grim as he spoke. It really was a terrible idea. It’d be stupid to go through with it but they must’ve been a bunch of idiots because they were doing it anyway. Amos put his hand in his pocket, gripping his retracted spear tightly in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

Percy stared at the pearls in his hand for a moment, deep in thought, and Amos instantly felt guilty for letting his fears control him. The quest was for the bolt, sure, but really they were there to rescue his mom. Amos figured she must’ve been a pretty amazing woman, to have Percy fighting so hard trying to get her back. How lucky she was, to have Percy love her with such fierceness.

Annabeth gave Amos a sharp look due to his insensitivity and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. “It'll be fine. The plan will work, we'll make it.”

“Yeah,” Amos rushed to agree in an attempt to correct his mistake. “Sorry, I'm just nervous, but it'll all work out. We trust you.” He nudged his friend lightly with his elbow in an attempt to bring his mood up slightly. “We'll get the master bolt and save your mom and be out of there in no time. Maybe we'll even set a record or something.” Amos joked, smiling as he saw the corners of Percy's lip beginning to twitch upwards.

Percy rolled his eyes, but Amos could see that his shoulders were much less tense now. Slipping the pearls pack into his pocket, Percy smiled gratefully at all of his friends. “Let's get in there and kick some Underworld butt.”

As they walked into the building where the supposed entrance to the Underworld lay, Amos found himself feeling on edge. This was it, the big moment they had been preparing for, they couldn't afford to mess up now.

The building certainly looked like it could house the Underworld, with the entire room covered in a bleak grey and black color scheme. Though Amos had to admit, the leather couches were pretty nice. A strange feeling began building up inside Amos, as he slowly became hyperaware of everything around him. He wondered if maybe it was his paranoia, but he swore that all the people in the lobby — if they were people that is; Amos swore they began looking a bit translucent and sort of… dead, if he stared hard enough — were letting their eyes linger on him, their stares piercing. It was like they all secretly knew something about him, something that he was completely oblivious to.

Unsettled, Amos let himself follow Percy's lead, resisting the urge to cower behind his friends. They approached the security guard, who stood on a podium, raised just high enough above them all that the four of them had to crane their necks to make eye contact.

Despite being labeled a security guard, Amos was almost certain the figure before them was a god. For one, he looked more solid than anyone else in the lobby, lacking the ghostly transparency many of the wandering souls had, not to mention the way that he looked. He wore a fancy Italian suit, the fabric looking expensive and soft, and he was tall, his presence commanding attention.

With Percy leading them, he was the one meant to do all the talking, but Amos was swiftly reminded of all of Percy’s failed attempts at improvisation as soon as he opened his mouth. “Your name is Chiron?” The son of Poseidon said, squinting at the shiny silver name tag pinned to the man’s suit.

The man leaned over, moving so that he was uncomfortably entering Percy’s personal space. He grinned, a sly, cold sort of grin, like a predator playing with his food. “What a precious young lad,” He said, his voice deep and with a slight accent. “Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?”

Percy gulped nervously. “N-no.”

“Sir,” The man added smoothly.

“Sir.” Amos didn’t judge Percy for giving into the man’s whims, not with the vague unsettling nature of the man before them, though if they all weren’t so nervous, he might’ve teased the other boy for it.

“Good.” The man smirked. “Can you read this? C-H-A-R-O-N. Charon, not Chiron. I hate being confused for that old horse man.” He scoffed, and though they couldn’t see his eyes, Amos was sure he was rolling them. “Now, how may I help you, little dead ones?” Charon looked at the four of them expectantly, waiting for a response.

Charon… Amos pondered, trying to remember where he had heard the name before. Oh! The ferryman to the Underworld. Guess we’re closer to our destination than we thought we were. “We want to go to the Underworld.” Amos blurted out. He wasn’t sure where the sudden burst of courage had come from. Maybe he had just gotten sick of the tense atmosphere Charon had developed, or maybe he was just on edge due to their short time limit, Amos really wasn’t sure. All he knew was that one moment he was cowering behind Percy, and the next he had captured Charon’s attention.

The god’s eyes weren’t visible, but Amos swore he could feel his gaze narrow on him, the stare feeling judgmental and critical. “Really? Now, isn’t that interesting… Very straightforward you kids are.” He laughed lightly, “No screaming, no ‘Please, Mr. Charon! There must be a mistake!’ How refreshing.” Charon paused lightly, before raising an eyebrow at all of them. “So, how’d you die then?”

The four demigods were silent for a moment before Percy nudged Grover lightly with his elbow. “Uh…” The satyr’s eyes darted around nervously. “We drowned…” That explanation would have been good enough, but of course, none of them knew when to shut up apparently. “In a bathtub.”

Amos had to hold a heavy sigh at the satyr’s words, and beside him, he swore he saw Annabeth’s arm twitch, like she wanted to elbow the satyr.

“Big bathtub,” Charon said, amused. “I don’t suppose you four have any coins for passage, do you? Normally, with adults I could charge your credit cards, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill, but with kids like you… Alas, you never die prepared.” He sighed, sounding sad for them, though Amos doubted it was genuine. “Well, I suppose you should take a seat. Maybe in a few centuries some generous soul will help you out.”

Percy’s eyes light up, glad that they were finally getting somewhere. He shoved his hands into his pockets, pulling out the drachma he had stolen from that Crusty guy. “We have coins.” He placed four of them on the counter, biting his lip as they waited anxiously to see if the ferryman would accept it.

“Well…” Charon licked his lips, which just looked outright weird and slightly creepy as he stared at the coins like a man starved. “Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven’t seen these in…” His hand hovered over the coins. They were so close, so incredibly close to finishing out the quest, they could almost taste their success. Charon’s finger grazed one of the coins ever so lightly before he suddenly pulled away, his stare cold and he zeroed in on Percy. “Hold on a second… You couldn’t read my name. Are you dyslexic?”

Amos’ heart was pounding now. He had known the plan was shaky at best, but he hadn’t exactly considered what would happen if it did fail. He feared what might happen to them once it was revealed they were trying to sneak their way in. Then again, Amos’ heart was beating so hard, part of him worried that he might have a heart attack or something — at least then he’d get to the Underworld for sure, he might not be able to get out, but he’d get there at least.

“Nope.” Percy denied, seemingly calm in the face of doom. “I’m dead.”

Charon groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I should’ve known. It was too good to be true, you reek like a godling.” Percy furrowed his brow, as though insulted that Charon thought he stunk. “And you,” Charon turned towards Amos, who really did think he might drop dead any moment. “You’ve got a certain…” His voice trailed off, as though deep in thought before he shook his head. “It’s not important. Point is, I can’t let you through little godlings.”

Percy shook his head adamantly. “We have to get to the Underworld. It’s urgent.”

The ferryman didn’t like that one bit. He growled, and all the spirits in the waiting room began growing agitated, as though stressed out by something. It was unsettling, to see people simultaneously begin pacing and running their hands through their hair, nervous for a reason they didn’t know. “Leave while you can. I’ll just take these,” His gaze was still firmly locked on the drachmas, hungrily. “And I’ll forget I saw you.”

Charon reached out, looking like he was just itching to grasp the drachmas, but Percy beat him to it. At this point, having been on the quest with Percy and sort of knowing his habits, Amos was almost certain that the son of Poseidon was just winging it and hoping that everything would work out. Granted, for the most part, it had worked out for them, but Amos wasn’t exactly keen to test their luck, and he could feel that this — taunting Charon and trying to bribe him — was pushing it.

“No service, no tip.” Percy crossed his arms haughtily, ignoring the way Charon growled louder, agitating the spirits more. They had begun pounding on the walls and elevator doors, which felt like something straight out of a horror movie. He sighed, sounding about as insincere as a person could be. “It’s a shame too. We had more to offer.” Percy pulled out the full bag of drachmas, letting the coins run through his fingers as he weighed the bag in his hand.

If Charon didn’t smite Percy on the spot for his ridiculous taunts, Amos was seriously considering taking the son of Poseidon out himself. Someone, please let this interaction end, and if Percy gets us all killed, please let me be one of the spirits that tortures him. He thought to himself, resisting the urge to clench his eyes shut to prevent himself from seeing the train wreck happening before him.

Charon’s gaze seemed focused on the bag, his growl shifting from anger to something a bit lighter sounding, and the spirits in the waiting room calmed. “Do you think I can be bought? Just… Just out of curiosity though, how much have you got there?”

Percy smirked, and beside him, Amos saw Annabeth roll her eyes, though a faint smile was visible on her face. “A lot,” Percy said. “I bet Hades doesn’t pay you well enough for all your hard work.”

Amos almost slapped his hand over Percy’s mouth — it didn’t exactly seem smart, to not only mock Hades in his domain but to mock him to his employee — but that wasn’t necessary. Percy’s words had seemingly broken whatever walls Charon had put in place in order to seem intimidating. Now, the ferryman seemed sort of comical, with the way that he very obviously was eager to talk down on his boss.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.” Charon leaned over the podium once more, however instead of being menacing he just seemed like he wanted to talk sh*t with a group of teenagers, which… really was what he was doing. “How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always ‘Please don’t let me be dead,” or ‘Please let me across for free.’ I haven’t had a pay raise in three thousand years!” He motioned to his suit. “Does this suit look cheap to you? It’s silk! Craftsmanship like this isn’t exactly inexpensive.”

Percy nodded, as though he had any idea what the god was talking about. “You deserve better.” He placed a drachma on the counter and then added more as she spoke. “A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay.”

Charon hummed lightly, “I must say, lad, you’re making a little bit of sense now. Just a little.”

Percy stacked more coins, his eyes mischievous. “I could mention a pay raise while I’m talking to Hades.” He offered, eyebrows raised.

That seemed to be the breaking point for Charon. He let out a heavy sigh before he begrudgingly scooped up the coins. “The boat’s almost full anyway. Might as well add you four and be off.” He walked off, motioning for them to follow with a wave of his hand. “Come along, then.”

The four of them exchanged glances for a moment, unsure and hesitant, before Percy began following the god, and the rest of them trailed behind them.

＊＊＊

It was disorienting, boarding the boat that would take them to the Underworld. Well, they didn’t board exactly, it was more like Charon transported them there. Amos blinked, and suddenly he could feel the subtle rocking of the boat as they traveled across the murky river.

“The River Styx.” Annabeth breathed out, seeming equally amazed and horrified by the water. “It’s so…”

“Polluted,” Charon grimaced. “For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in anything you could think of. Hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Quite irresponsible if you ask me.”

It was sad, Amos thought, that there was a place for all the lost hopes and dreams of the world. He leaned over slightly to stare at the dark water, swirling with bones and crushed flowers. He wondered if any of his hopes were floating in the river, forever lost and unattainable. Amos tried to lean over just a bit more, to get a closer look at the lost hopes in the river, and to stare at the mist that curled up off of its surface, when a hand pulled him back.

Percy grasped Amos’ hand tightly, tugging him back just barely hard enough to snap Amos from his thoughts. He opened his mouth to ask why the son of Poseidon had dragged him back, but his question was answered when he stared at his friend’s face. Percy was scared, which was a strange sight considering how fearless he’d been during the quest. Now though, it was obvious that he was scared, probably overwhelmed by the nature of the Underworld. His face was pale, and his hands clammy. “Don’t…” Even his voice sounded weak.

Amos thought back to the Tunnel of Love, when he had been forced to confront his own fears. Percy had supported him then, giving him the reassurance needed to get through it; it was only fair Amos returned the favor now.

He squeezed Percy’s hand lightly, moving away from the edge so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with his friend. “It’s fine.” Amos tried to reassure him. “We’re almost there, almost to your mom. We’ll all be by your side when you get her and the bolt back, okay?” He smiled lightly when Percy nodded.

Truthfully, Amos wasn’t really sure how to comfort people — the whole not having friends before thing kind of made it hard for him to get any practice in — but he supposed he must’ve been doing something right as he saw the slightest bit of tension leave Percy. Amos kept their hands linked together for the rest of the boat ride, trying to offer his support by simply being there for his friend. He squeezed his hand one last time as they approached the shore before allowing Percy’s hand to slip from his. The boat slid rather smoothly onto the soft-looking black sand that lined the shore, marking the end of their journey.

A loud, echoing howl made all four of the mortals jump. “Old Three-Face must be hungry,” Charon said, a sick smile on his face, as though taking enjoyment in their demise. “Tough luck for you, little godlings.”

Spirits began exiting the boat, and for a moment Amos let his eyes linger on them. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sad as he watched people of all ages leave — old men and women supporting each other, a girl who couldn’t have been older than five walking with what looked to be her mother, people walking alone, looking lost and helpless. He knew that was the way things were; people died no matter if they were old or young, cared for or neglected, remembered or forgotten… That didn’t mean it wasn’t a bit sad, to see the spirits wandering towards the Underworld, their final resting place. He hoped the journey there was easy for them, that they didn’t suffer in the Underworld as they might have done in life.

“Amos,” Annabeth snapped him from his thoughts, making him avert his gaze. By the time he looked back, Charon had left, and all the spirits were off the boat, headed towards the afterlife. “Are you okay?” She looked worried, though Amos couldn’t exactly blame her. He had sort of zoned out and gone quiet when they were quite literally in hell — it wasn’t exactly a good look.

He smiled sheepishly, ignoring the concerned stares he was receiving from his three friends. “Yeah, sorry. Just… thinking.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, like she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t question his words. “Well stop thinking so hard. We’ve got a god to interrogate.”

Chapter 15: love and loss

Chapter Text

As the four of them walked through the Underworld, they looked around with wide eyes. It was certainly different than Amos had been expecting. Perhaps it was due to the bias people generally held towards the Underworld — the whole land of the dead thing didn’t exactly scream warm and cozy — but he had expected the land to be more desolate. Instead, the Underworld was surprisingly crowded.

There were three entrances, each of them congested as lines and lines of souls tried to get in. The entrances were labeled, two of them with signs signifying an attendant on duty — probably another spirit who would judge the souls entering — and the last line with a bright, bold sign: EZ- DEATH. Out of the three lines, that one was moving the fastest, souls entering with no issue, unlike the other two lines.

“That line probably leads to the Asphodel Fields,” Annabeth said, and Amos found himself nodding in agreement, “Those souls face no judgment, they just go right in, probably because they don’t want to risk being judged harshly and getting dealt something worse.” She crossed her arms as she examined the lines.

For some reason, Amos felt a strange desire to defend the spirits. “That’s not the only reason,” He argued. “Maybe one of their loved ones is in the Asphodel Fields and they don’t want to leave them alone, or maybe they don’t want to wait in the long judgment lines if they think they’ll be sent to Asphodel anyway.” Amos stopped his defense once he realized his three quest mates were giving him strange looks. He felt a sudden rush of embarrassment — he wasn’t even really sure why he had felt the urge to defend the spirits so stubbornly, when all Annabeth had made was an insignificant comment, it had just felt wrong to let the spirits go undefended when they couldn’t really defend themselves to begin with — and Amos desperately hoped his face wasn’t turning red. “Never mind,” He mumbled, looking away from his friends in hopes of calming his embarrassment. “It’s not important.”

“Hold on,” Percy said, and Amos was thankful to have the attention off of himself. “Judgement? There’s a court for dead people?”

Spirits, Amos wanted to correct him, Souls, not just dead people. He bit his tongue instead. It was making him a bit nervous, the way the Underworld was affecting him. While his other three friends were growing more wary, anxiety rising within them, Amos felt none of that. He almost felt calm, and more confident, though it was those feelings that were making him feel the slightest bit negative; it was weird, his lack of reaction to the land of the dead, and he feared what that might mean for him.

Annabeth nodded, looking pleased that she was once again able to show off her intelligence and explain things to Percy. “Yeah, three judges. They cycle through them, but usually, they’re influential spirits — Shakespeare, King Minos, Thomas Jefferson,” She wrinkled her nose slightly at the last name. “They’re not always good people necessarily, but they’re influential nonetheless. Anyways, they look at a person’s life — all the good and the bad — and decide where that person should end up. Sometimes they send people to Elysium, that’s basically paradise, but other times they decide the person should be punished. Most of the time though, people live pretty basic lives, so they end up in Asphodel.”

The son of Poseidon tilted his head slightly, his eyes a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “And do what?”

“Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever. Just standing and staring until the end of time.” Grover grimaced at the thought. “It could be worse though. There’s always that.” He nodded his head to where a punishment was being dealt out. Figures in heavy dark robes surrounded one spirit, frisking him as the spirit shouted objections.

“Oh,” Percy said, his eyes wide, “I remember him from the news. Some televangelist who used money raised for orphanages to buy mansions and stuff.” Amos, who had been feeling conflicted about the punishment, felt all sympathy he had for the man’s soul leave. Perhaps his opinion was harsher since it hit too close to home for him — he thought about the group home that he had lived at; the poor funding they had received, the second-hand clothes they all wore… it wasn’t terrible, and he knew that he was lucky in a way, that he had spent most of his childhood with a roof over his head and never worrying about food, but it still wasn’t easy — but Amos hoped that whatever punishment they gave him was good, that the man suffered just as much as the kids he had given false hope to suffered.

“Looks like he’s getting a special punishment from Hades,” Amos said, watching as the robed figures dragged the man away. Feeling Percy’s curious stare, Amos elaborated. (Honestly, Amos thought to himself, Someone needs to finish going over the myths and stuff with Percy. He’s been confused for like half of the quest). “If a person is bad enough Hades will give them special attention as soon as they arrive. The Kindly Ones are probably setting up some sort of eternal punishment for him right now.”

All four of them shivered lightly at the reminder of the Furies. Amos really hoped they wouldn’t encounter them again, but he tried his best not to hope too hard — with their luck he’d jinx them and the Furies might actually kill them the second time around.

As they continued walking, approaching the gates of the Underworld, a loud howling echoed through the place, so loud Amos swore it nearly shook the ground. His eyes looked around, searching for the three-headed beast that was likely making the noise, and when he saw him, Amos felt his jaw drop. He was the first to spot the animal, a massive, mildly transparent beast, with three snarling heads. “Guys,” He said, pointing to the dog. “I think I found Cerberus.” It took a moment for the others to see him, their eyes squinting as they struggled to make out his figure, but once they did his three friends dissolved into a similar state of shock.

“He’s a Rottweiler,” Percy said, eyes wide in shock. It was a little funny, seeing such an extraordinary mythical creature look like such an ordinary dog breed, and if they weren’t trying to sneak into the land of the dead, Amos was sure they would have laughed about it. Percy gulped nervously, his gaze still on the dog. “I think I’m starting to see him better,” His gaze darted nervously to his companions. “Why do you think that is?”

Annabeth looked grim. “I think it might be because we’re getting closer to being dead.” A tense silence enveloped them at her words, but Amos was certain the reason for his silence was different than his friends. Because Cerberus had always been clear to him; sure, he was a little transparent, probably due to his nature and his home, but Amos never had any trouble seeing him, not like the others did. Anxiety curdled in his gut, as he pondered what that might mean for him.

“So,” Grover said, his voice weak. “Time for the plan?”

The plan. Amos really hated the plan, mostly because there was no plan other than to try to sneak in and not die. The four of them began moving slowly but surely towards the death line entrances, which were being guarded by the giant three-headed dog before them. For a moment, Amos thought they might get lucky, as he watched the spirits of the dead walk past the peace peacefully and without worry. Maybe Cerberus is secretly really sweet, Amos thought to himself weakly, knowing that the odds of that being a reality weren’t great. But then the middle head snarled, nasty, ghostly drool dripping from its jowls.

“Can you understand it?” Percy asked Grover, all four of them freezing in fear.

The satyr nodded, his hands shaking lightly. “Oh yeah. He is not happy.” Cerberus snarled again, this time the left head joined in while the right one threw them wary glances. “Um,” Grover’s voice went up an octave in fear. “Not to alarm anyone but he said we have about ten seconds to pray to the gods and after that… he’s hungry.”

They began scrambling, trying to think of a way out of their mess, while Amos found himself desperately wishing for Gladiola again. Oh, why couldn’t Cerberus be like that tiny pink poodle, He whined internally, almost certain that this was the end. What an embarrassing way to die, becoming a snack for Cerberus.

“Wait!” Annabeth yelled out, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a bright red rubber ball, with the tacky Waterland logo printed on it. “See the ball?” She cooed, and to their amazement, all three heads became laser-focused on the object. “Cerberus! You want the ball? Sit!”

Amos almost believed that he did die, because certainly that would be the only explanation for Annabeth’s antics to actually work. (Embarrassingly, Amos almost felt like he could cry with relief as he saw the technique working). Cerberus plopped down, the left head panting happily as his tail wagged, smacking spirits and making them dissipate into angry hisses each time.

“Good boy!” She threw the ball to him, ordering him to drop it and praising the dog each time he did. As she threw the ball for a third time, she turned her head to address the three of them seriously. “Go now. I’ll keep him distracted while you sneak through EZ-Death.” They all began to protest, but Annabeth gave them a fierce look that Amos was sure could rival Athena, and they were all quick to shut up.

They rushed past the dog, and Amos swore he saw Percy pale as they walked between the monster’s legs. Annabeth threw the ball one last time, distracting the beast as all three heads began fighting over it while she met up with the rest of them at the metal detectors. She was out of breath, and though Amos thought they would’ve been celebrating — it isn’t every day you sneak past Cerberus after all — Annabeth just looked sad.

She wiped at her eyes furiously, like she didn’t want her friends to see her weak. “When I was little, at my dad’s house, we had a Doberman…” Her voice broke slightly as she trailed off. “Sorry, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Amos nudged her lightly with his shoulder, trying his best to give her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “We should try to convince Chiron to let us get a pet for camp,” He suggested, his voice teasing, though Amos was sort of earnest about it. He’d never had a pet before; actually, before the quest, Amos had barely interacted with animals before, but now that he had, he had found that he sort of liked it. Sure he wasn’t necessarily fond of Cerberus, due to his desire to eat them, but meeting Gladiola had been nice, and had triggered an unexpected desire for a pet in Amos. “It might be a hard sell, but maybe we can get Luke in on it too. Chiron would have to listen then, don’t you think?”

Annabeth laughed weakly. “That’s so stupid.” She looked back at Cerberus with sad eyes. “It would be sort of nice though…”

“Uh, guys?” Grover bit his lip nervously. “Less talking, more moving! We’ve got to go!”

Annabeth nodded, trying to look strong. “Yeah… Good boy, Cerberus. You’re a good dog. I’ll come visit you soon, okay?” She called out to the beast, before turning away from them all, focusing on the EZ-Death entrance. She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to take on a confident, unbothered tone. “Let’s go.”

In the background, they could hear Cerberus whimpering softly as they walked away, and if Annabeth had to wipe away a few more tears, the dog’s cries making her heart clench, no one paid her any mind.

＊＊＊

After they ran past the metal detectors — which had only added to Amos’ stress with the loud blaring of the alarms and the ghoulish security guards chased after them — the four teens found themselves blending in with the large crowd of spirits.

To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement. Asphodel was more crowded than any place Amos had ever seen. Spirits brushed up against them, their bodies shimmering as they whispered. His friends looked rightfully unnerved, shivering each time a spirit passed by them and keeping their gaze down to avoid looking at their faces, but Amos couldn’t help but feel drawn to the spirits. He made eye contact with many of them, taking in their sad, confused faces and trying to commit them to memory. It felt wrong to ignore them when Amos knew many of these people had been dead for years, decades even. (How many of them have no one left to remember them, He wondered. Is that what awaits all of us? An afterlife wandering an empty field, forever confused, searching for familiar faces that would never appear? The thought saddened him).

They passed by Elysium, the place for heroes, the place they all wanted to go. Perhaps it was his negative thinking returning, but a part of Amos doubted he would ever make it there. He wasn’t brave or heroic, not really. He was a bystander more than anything. His friends though, he could envision there perfectly. They all might have been on the same quest, but in his mind, they still weren’t necessarily equals. It was so obvious to him — to everyone really — that Percy and Annabeth were destined for great things, a future filled with heroic accomplishments. Even Grover, despite his nervous disposition, seemed like he could be someone great; he was already a wonderful protector, even if the satyr himself had a hard time believing that. Amos viewed himself as more of a sidekick though, someone good on the sidelines but not so much in the action. It was a nice fantasy to think about though, all of them making it to Elysium, spending eternity in paradise.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Grover yelping, his body being thrown forward as his sneakers sprouted wings and dragged him away from the group.

“Grover,” Annabeth scolded, a frown on her face. “This isn’t exactly the time to mess around.”

He yelped again, his voice squeaky with fear. “I didn’t-” Grover had begun levitating now, the flying shoes trying to take him somewhere as the three demigods watched on in terror. “Help!”

Percy tried to reach out for him, his hand just barely grazing Grover’s before the satyr was pulled farther away. They ran after their friend as fast as they could, dodging spirits left and right. Being the tallest out of his friends (not by much, as he was only a few inches taller than Annabeth, who was an inch or two taller than Percy) Amos was closest to their satyr friend, his long legs making the journey easier. It also helped that he was able to dodge the spirits easier than his friends, almost as though the spirits were moving out of the way for him. “Try to slow yourself down!” Amos yelled.

“How?” Grover yelled back, scared and exasperated. Not that Amos blamed him for the attitude, he was sort of facing his imminent doom.

“Untie your shoelaces!” Annabeth shouted, a few feet behind Amos. “Grab onto something! Try anything!”

To his credit, Grover did try, grasping at the dirt and gravel that surrounded them as the shoes dragged him to some sort of tunnel. If there had been rocks or something bigger, Amos was sure it would’ve worked, but with how small the gravel was most of it simply slipped through his fingers, no matter how hard Grover tried to hold on.

The tunnel they were in got darker, colder even. It unsettled them all, and Amos swore that if it weren’t for his adrenaline and his desire to save their friend, he probably would’ve turned and run in the other direction. It felt terrible down there, a foreboding feeling that made his chest clench with fear.

As they approached the end — how Amos knew it was the end, he wasn’t sure, it just felt like it — the tunnel opened up, revealing a deep dark cavern that made Amos stumble and pause in fear. His eyes were locked onto the dark abyss; he didn’t know what it was, but he knew it was bad, it felt evil, and it was straight where Grover was headed. His hesitation allowed Percy and Annabeth to catch up with them, the two of them pausing just like Amos did at the sight.

“That’s-” Amos couldn’t see his face, but Percy sounded just as scared as he felt.

“I know! It’s the place you described in your dream! But Grover’s going to fall, he needs us. So come on, both of you!” Annabeth sounded stern, strong in the way she always did, but he could hear the faint waver to her voice that showed she was worried by the dark chasm too.

She grasped both of their wrists, pulling them back into the action as they ran towards their satyr friend. It looked hopeless, and Amos felt his stomach drop as he saw Grover on the edge, clawing at the ground with tears in his eyes. They wouldn’t make it in time. They wouldn’t make it and Grover would fall, and it would be their fault that he had met his demise. Amos felt like crying, and truthfully he almost did as he thought about what would happen to their friend, but then one of the winged shoes went flying off. He supposed it was probably because of Grover’s hooves, the odd shape never quite allowing the shoes to fit tightly, but whatever it was had saved the satyr's life.

It gave the three demigods enough time, allowing them to reach their friend and pull him up despite the remaining shoe tugging at his leg in protest. Eventually, that one came loose too, and the four friends collapsed onto the dark gravel with weak limbs and panting breaths.

“I don’t…” Grover panted weakly. His hands were bleeding, and he had scratches all over, but he was alive, and Amos almost felt himself cry once more, though this time in relief. “How did that…”

“I’m pretty sure that just shaved off like ten years of my life.” Amos breathed heavily. He clenched his eyes shut as he focused on the feeling of the gravel digging into his back, reminding himself that he was still alive.

They all stayed there for a minute, catching their breath, before Percy sat up abruptly, his eyes wide. “Do you hear that?”

Amos strained his ears, his brows furrowing as he struggled to listen. He almost missed it, the sound low and deep, but then he heard it. It felt dark and evil, the voice that they heard coming up from the chasm. The pits of hell, Amos thought to himself, his body tensing, distressed, Where they threw the Titans.

“Tartarus,” Annabeth breathed out in horror, coming to the same conclusion as Amos. “That’s-That’s the entrance to Tartarus.”

They were all sitting up now, Amos inching away from the pit slowly as Percy stood up. He almost screamed when the son of Poseidon lightly leaned over towards the pit — not quite leaning over the pit since they were a few feet back, but moving just a bit closer to the edge. It made Amos want to grasp his friend, to pull him back and away from the evil pit, but he was too scared to move anywhere besides away from Tartarus.

Percy uncapped his sword, allowing the light that shone from it to illuminate the chasm. “It’s like magic…” He mumbled.

“Percy,” Amos said abruptly, unable to take it anymore. His dark eyes were wide, conveying the overwhelming fear he felt perfectly. “Don’t-” He paused as the words got caught in his throat. “We have to go. Please.”

He put his sword away after that, and the three of them began helping Grover out of the tunnel, carrying some of his weight as his legs shook slightly. Amos’ hands shook the whole way out of the tunnel, the memory of the pit, of the way Grover had almost died, and the way it had made them all feel ingrained in his mind.

＊＊＊

Needless to say, the rest of the journey to Hades’ palace was mostly silent. Amos’ hands still shook a bit, and he could tell Grover still felt shaky too, but there was nothing they could do about it. It was now or never.

The gate was open when they walked up, a beautiful dark bronze color, and up in the sky the Furies flew above them, as though standing guard. As they walked through, Amos couldn’t help but be entranced by everything. For a place so dark, that people associated so much with sadness, Hades’ palace was a beautiful sight. There was a garden, filled to the brim with colorful plants that Amos couldn’t even begin to name, and precious jewels could be found scattered throughout — shining rubies and diamonds and emeralds. Percy had to drag both him and Grover away, as the pair of them were perhaps a little too entranced by the palace — which was a bit embarrassing, but Amos figured they should be allowed to be a little distracted, it was a rare sight after all.

They reached a guarded door after that, and they all knew that this was it, where their quest finally came to fruition. “You know, I bet Hades doesn’t have trouble with door-to-door salesmen,” Grover remarked quietly, staring at the intimidating skeletal guards that stood by the door. No one laughed though, they were all far too tense.

Beside him, Amos could see Percy rubbing his shoulder uncomfortably, as though the weight of his backpack was suddenly too much. Amos wanted to ask about it, to find out what the issue was, but they didn’t exactly have time. “Well…” Percy shifted on his feet awkwardly. “I guess we just knock…?”

Annabeth nodded, ready to lift her hand, when a hot gust of wind blew down the hall, almost knocking Amos off his feet and making the doors fly open. “That works too I guess,” Amos muttered softly.

The guards stepped to the side, allowing them entrance, and Amos forced himself to take a deep breath as they stepped through, clenching his fists in an attempt to hide his shaky hands.

In the middle of the room, was a large menacing looking throne which looked eerily like bones — Amos really hoped they weren’t, the thought alone made him feel slightly nauseous. The god on the throne was even more menacing, with skin paler than Amos had thought possible, and dark, silky hair that rested just above his shoulders. He wore pitch black robes, with a beautiful gold crown adorning his head. Hades was terrifying, and he was also beautiful, like death itself.

“You’re brave to come here, son of Poseidon.” His voice was deep and powerful, and it made Amos want to bow his head and cower. “After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish.”

What you’ve done to me? Amos thought in confusion, shifting his eyes to glance at Percy.

The boy in question looked just as scared as Amos felt, but he stepped forward regardless, ignoring the god’s words. “Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests.” Amos gulped as Hades’ eyes darkened, irritated by Percy yet not interrupting him. “Lord Hades, sir, look, there can’t be a war among gods. It would be… bad.”

“Very bad,” Grover interjected, though Hades’ dark glare made him cower immediately after.

“Please, return Zeus’ master bolt to me. Let me carry it to Olympus.” Percy said.

Hades didn’t seem to like this, his eyes, which were a bright unnatural shade of amber, seemed to almost glow in his anger. “You dare keep up this pretense? You dare make false requests of me? After all that you have done?”

The throne room shook with Hades’ anger, and the four teenagers exchanged fearful glances. “Uh, Uncle?” Percy’s voice came out nervously. “You keep saying ‘after what you’ve done.’ What exactly is it that I did?”

Hades scoffed. “You think I would want a war, godling? So typical of a child of my obnoxious brothers!” He bellowed in frustration. “Did you not see Asphodel, all those spirits? Do you think I need more subjects, more work? In this past century I’ve had to hire more security ghouls, deal with traffic issues in the judgment pavilion, and double overtime for staff,” Hades was ranting now, and later, when they weren’t facing their probable death, Amos might laugh about it, the seemingly mundane worries of the Lord of the Underworld. “I’m meant to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all precious metals under the earth, and yet my pockets are drained by all these expenses.”

The god groaned, and Percy said probably the worst thing he could in their situation. (Which, actually was sort of normal for Percy. It was like he simply couldn’t stop trying to aggravate every powerful being they came across). “Charon wants a pay raise.”

“Don’t get me started on Charon!” Hades hissed. “He’s been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits. Problems are everywhere, and I must handle them. It drives me insane! And there is no break, no stop to the dead coming. So no, you foolish godling,” Hades growled, “I have no need for a war.”

His slightly amusing rant came to an end, shifting to a far more serious, threatening speech. “However, I see your father’s plan. My other brother may be too dense, but I am no fool.” The ground rumbled beneath their feet once more, and Amos found himself having to hold on to Grover and Annabeth to keep himself steady. Skeletal soldiers began filling the room, blocking their exits, and Amos allowed one of his hands to travel to his pocket, gripping his retracted spear tightly. “You were the thief on the winter solstice,” Hades accused Percy, and Amos felt his heart drop. “Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus. He allowed you to take the master bolt and my helm! Poseidon might’ve succeeded in hiding his scheme at the start, but now you have been forced into the open! You will be exposed as a thief, and I will have my helm back!”

There was no way any of that was true, he knew that it was impossible, that Percy’s desire to rescue his mother was too real for everything to be some sort of ploy, but Hades didn’t know that; it suddenly made sense why the Furies had been trying to kill them so intently.

“Y-Your helm of darkness is missing too, Lord Hades?” Annabeth said, her mind racing and her eyes clouding over in deep thought.

“Oh don’t play innocent. You three have been helping this thief! you are accomplices, just as guilty as the thief himself.” Hades’ eyes glanced over the three of them, and Amos gripped his spear tighter in fear. “Does Poseidon think he can blackmail me? Bring me an ultimatum in order to gain my support?”

“No!” Percy shouted. His eyes were wide, filled with so much confusion and fear. Amos had never seen his friend so vulnerable; for as long as he had known him, Percy had always seemed so strong, so untouchable. Now he was scared and weak, just like Amos felt. “Poseidon didn’t- I didn’t-”

“Return my helm now, or I will stop death,” Hades threatened, his eyes cold. “This is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and unleash a nightmare, allowing the dead to roam free in your world. And it will be your skeleton, Percy Jackson, which leads the charge.”

Great, so Hades is going to kill us and then start the zombie apocalypse, Amos snarked in his mind, Some heroes we are, we basically just guaranteed the end of the world.

Percy’s frustration and fear seemed to combine, overwhelming him until he burst. “You’re just as bad as Zeus! You think I stole from you? That’s why you sent the Furies after me?”

Hades stared at the demigod like he was stupid. “Of course. I wanted no quick and easy death for you, godling. The Furies were meant to capture you, bring you back alive to the special punishment I had waiting for you. Why do you think I allowed you entrance into my kingdom?”

Amos wanted to slam his head against one of the shining marble walls. They were so stupid, to believe that they could somehow outsmart Hades and sneak in.

“But I don’t- I don’t have the helm! Or the master bolt!”

“You lie!” Hades shouted. “Open your pack and reveal to me and your little godling friends the depths of your lies.”

Percy grew pale, and Amos felt his stomach drop. It couldn’t be true, he didn’t want to believe that it was true, and yet when Percy unzipped his bag, he pulled out a shiny golden cylinder brimming with energy. The master bolt.

“Percy,” Amos breathed out, a betrayed feeling washing over him. Was it true? He thought to himself, sick to his stomach. Was it all just a lie, some elaborate act? He met Percy’s gaze, his friend staring at him with pleading eyes.

“I don’t know- I swear I didn’t-” Percy’s eyes darted between his friends and Hades, so much so that Amos wasn’t sure who he was talking to, them or the death god.

Hades shook his head. “You heroes are all the same. So prideful, so confident, yet time and time again that is your downfall.” He sighed, “I have no desire for the master bolt, but since you are presenting it to me… Yield it to me, and give me my helm.”

Percy took a deep breath. “Lord Hades, wait, please. There’s been a mistake.”

The ground shook once more. “A mistake?” The Furies entered, flying in with cruel smirks on their faces, as though awaiting Hades’ words to attack. “There is no mistake. I know why you have come, your real reason for bringing the bolt.” He snapped his fingers, and a bright gold ball of fire exploded on the steps just a few yards away from them. “You have come for her.”

Percy’s mom stood, bathed in gold light, a terrible expression frozen on her face. Despite the expression of fear she held, Amos could tell she was beautiful. She looked a lot like Percy, with the same expressive eyes, and wild hair. He wished that his first time seeing her was under better circ*mstances. As Amos looked at his friend, taking in Percy’s heartbroken face as he tried to reach out to her, he felt all his fears of deception fade away. There was no way Percy would do such a thing. Even with Hades’ reasoning, his mother had been taken when Percy arrived at camp, after the solstice, when he had just learned about his godly heritage. Besides, Amos trusted his friend. He knew Percy, and that meant that he knew such an act of betrayal was something his friend could never do, too kind and loyal to even think about it.

“Yes,” Hades grinned, so clearly satisfied with himself. “I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and I may let her go. She is not dead, not yet at least. But if you displease me, well… that can change.” Subtly Percy reached his hands into his pocket, feeling for the pearls his father had given him, only for Hades’ voice to stop him in his tracks. “Ah, yes, the pearls. My brother does love his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson.”

In no position to deny him, Percy did as the god asked, showing the god the four gleaming pearls. Hades hummed, though his eyes glinted with a sick sort of amusem*nt. “What a shame, only four. Each pearl will only protect one person, so I’m afraid you have a decision to make godling.” He grinned, a cruel sort of smile, like he was enjoying their bleak situation. “You may take your mother, but one of your friends will have to stay behind. If not, you must leave her behind. Choose wisely, demigod. Or perhaps simply give me the backpack, and accept my terms.”

The four of them huddled together, trying to form a plan. “What do we-”

“Leave me behind,” Amos offered, speaking up before Annabeth could even finish her sentence. His self-deprecating nature may have played a part in how he had made his decision, but Amos meant it earnestly nonetheless. “You three are important to the quest, and you deserve to have your mom, Percy.” He gave his friends a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. There’s no one waiting for me back at camp anyway.”

“No, are you crazy!” Percy hissed, his eyes angered and frustrated. “You’re important too. We’re not leaving you here to be tortured.”

Grover nodded. “Percy’s right. We’re not leaving you to be tortured, but you guys should leave me here instead. I’m a satyr, our souls are different from yours. If he tortures me he won’t have me forever, I’ll just reincarnate into a flower or something. This is the best option, you three get to live and Percy gets his mom back.”

“Grover,” Amos began, trying to think of ways he could persuade his friend to not sacrifice himself when Annabeth interrupted him.

“No,” She drew her knife, gripping the handle tightly. “You three go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher’s license and find Pan like you always wanted. Percy, you have to save your mom and finish the quest. And Amos… you do have people waiting for you back at camp. The other unclaimed campers would be devastated if you didn’t come back, I’m sure of it. Besides, I need you to go back to Luke, to tell him-” Her voice wavered. “To tell him all that we did. To tell him that I went down fighting.”

“You can tell him yourself,” Amos insisted. “I’m staying.”

Grover shook his head, “No way-”

“Can you guys stop!” Percy hissed. He looked pained, like the discussion was breaking his heart. “Stop acting like you’re already dead. I have a plan.” He held out the pearls. “Take one. All of you.”

They all hesitated. “Percy…” Annabeth trailed off sadly.

The son of Poseidon turned to face his mother, tears trailing down his face. He reached out once more, only to be stopped by the scalding gold flames surrounding her. “I’m sorry,” He said sadly. He sounded so small, so young, and Amos felt his heart ache for his friend. “I’ll be back. I’ll find a way.”

The co*cky grin on Hades’ face began fading. “What…”

“I’ll find your helm, Uncle,” Percy said, his voice suddenly strong and confident. How he was able to switch so easily, Amos would never know. Maybe he was just good at hiding things, at pretending to be okay even when he was dying inside. Amos made a mental note of it, to remind himself to always check up on Percy, even if he seemed fine. “I’ll return it. Don’t forget about Charon’s pay raise.”

“Perseus Jackson,” The god hissed angrily. “Do not dare-”

“And play with Cerberus every once in a while. He gets lonely, I think. He likes red rubber balls.” Hades only appeared more angered by Percy’s words, his eyes gleaming with fury as he began calling on his ghastly soldiers. “Now, guys!” Percy shouted, and they all threw down their pearls, encasing themselves in white glimmering spheres. They floated up, leaving behind the Underworld as Hades and his soldiers attacked them furiously. Leaving behind Percy’s mother, her son heartbroken, feeling as though he had lost his mother all over again.

Chapter 16: percy fights a god (and nearly gives amos a heart attack)

Chapter Text

Amos swore he felt his life flash before his eyes as the four of them crash-landed in the ocean, courtesy of the pearls Poseidon had gifted Percy. Considering it was the second time he was sure he was going to drown and die — the first time being on that awful ride at Waterland — Amos was seriously considering taking up swimming lessons. Maybe Percy can teach me, He thought fleetingly before shaking his head. He could envision just how embarrassing that would be, the son of Poseidon gliding in the water with ease as Amos flailed around helplessly. Yeah no, not a great idea.

It was embarrassing enough that Percy had to rescue him, moving quickly to grab onto Amos and practically throwing him towards a nearby life buoy. He did the same for Annabeth and Grover, and soon enough all four of them were wading in the water — well, Amos was more so clinging onto the buoy as tight as he could and hoping for the best, but close enough — waiting for the coast guard to come pick them up.

When they did come, Amos couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on Percy. His heart ached for what his friend had gone through; all that effort, all that hope that he’d find his mother, just for her to slip from his grasp. It wasn’t fair. Percy was kind and loyal, a good person; he didn’t deserve to experience loss like that. With all that had happened, Amos had expected Percy to be sadder, but instead when he looked at his friend, he just saw anger. The normally bright sea green of his eyes seemed darker, almost like the sea before a storm. It was a strange look on his friend; Percy had proven that he had a bit of a temper before, but it had never been quite like this.

When they reached the shore, all of them soaking wet and varying degrees of frustrated and confused.

“I don’t believe it,” Annabeth said, a mix of shock and annoyance. “We went all that way… Did all that stuff… ugh!” She crossed her arms in irritation.

Percy’s frown grew deeper. “It was a trick. A strategy worthy of Athena.” He sounded bitter and sad, defeated almost. At his words, Annabeth raised an eyebrow, as though ready to challenge him, but he cut her off before she could say anything. “You get it, don’t you?”

Percy’s voice was harsh, and Amos suddenly felt like someone had poured cold water on him as he processed what his friend was saying. Because he was right, it was a trick. They had practically been lured down to the Underworld, sold on the idea that it had to have been Hades pulling the strings, with Percy’s mother being used as an extra bargaining piece. They had been so satisfied with that plan, with the easy conclusion that the conflict was a result of tensions rising between the big three. It was expected, typical even, the perfect explanation that would keep them satisfied enough not to question anything. Amos felt stupid, as he was sure they all did for not questioning anything.

Annabeth sighed. “Yeah,” She said defeatedly. “I get it.” She paused for a moment, a sad look on her face. “Percy… I’m sorry about your mom.”

Percy looked pained, and Amos felt the sudden urge to give his friend a hug, or at the very least try to comfort him in some way. Percy was angry, but more than that he was sad, devastated by the loss of his mother. “The prophecy was right,” He said, ignoring Annabeth’s words. None of them commented on it, but his voice broke as he spoke, sounded strained with emotion. “‘You shall go west and face the god who has turned.’ But it wasn’t Hades, he doesn’t want a war. Someone else does. They stole the master bolt, and Hades’ helm, and framed me in order to frame Poseidon. Now a three-way war is about to break out and it’ll all be my fault.” Percy’s voice broke again, and although he was glaring ahead, looking frustrated and angered by the situation, he also sort of looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Unable to take it anymore, Amos placed a hand on his shoulder, urging his friend to look at him. “It is not your fault, okay?” His voice was surprisingly stern, making Percy stare at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t ask for any of this. And if you think the blame is on you, then you better blame the rest of us too. We chose to go on this quest with you, to work together and try to stop the war. It’s as much our fault as it is yours.”

Percy opened his mouth, looking like he might protest, but Grover cut him off, an encouraging smile on his face. “Yeah! We’re in this together… I still can’t figure it out though. Who would start all of this? Who could want war that bad?”

The satyr’s words made a lightbulb go off in Amos’ head. Oh… That makes a lot of sense actually. He thought to himself once the realization sunk in. Percy and Annabeth had seemingly figured it out though as they exchanged tired looks. “Gee.” Percy deadpanned, “Let me think.”

Ahead of them on the beach stood the figure in question. Ares grinned, looking all too pleased with himself as he leaned against his motorcycle. In his hand he held a gleaming metal bat, propping it against his shoulder. It added to the violent, mildly unhinged energy the war god had, almost seeming like he was going to beat them up with the bat. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past him to do that, Amos thought to himself. He seems like the sort of guy to beat up some kids for fun.

“Hey kid,” The war god only addressed Percy — not that the rest of them particularly wanted his attention though. “You were supposed to die.” Wow… what a nice way to start this confrontation, Amos grimaced.

Percy glared at the god. “You tricked me. It was you that stole the helm and the master bolt.”

“Well, I didn’t steal them personally.” Ares sneered at them like the situation was one big joke to him. “Taking another god’s symbol of power is a big no-no, but that’s why we have little brats like you. You’re not the only hero who can run errands.”

“Was it Clarisse?” Percy asked. “She was at the winter solstice.” The thought made Amos feel oddly upset.

He certainly wasn’t friends with the aggressive daughter of Ares, but that didn’t mean he thought she was necessarily a bad person. Clarisse was just so strong all the time; sure, sometimes she was a little too aggressive and mean, but really, she just seemed like a person who wanted to push themselves to be the best. Amos admired it in a way, her strength. (Not that he would ever tell her, or anyone else that fact. It would be embarrassing, to admit that he had sort of looked up to the camp bully).

Ares laughed, loud and obnoxiously, as though the thought of it being Clarisse was ridiculous. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, you’re screwing up my war effort. See, you were supposed to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you, all while Zeus is mad at Corpse Breath for having the master bolt. Not to mention, Hades is still looking for this.” Ares pulled out a ski mask, so dark Amos swore it almost blended in with the shadows. When he placed it on his bike, resting it on the handlebars, it transformed, shifting into a gleaming bronze war helmet.

“The helm of darkness,” Grover breathed out, looking both mildly amazed and terrified.

Ares’ grin grew. “Exactly. Now where was I? Oh yeah!” Amos swore he could see the flames in the god's eyes grow brighter from behind his sunglasses. “Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon since he won't know who took this. Next thing you know we’ll have a nice little three-way fight going.”

“But… They’re your family!” Annabeth protested. For the first time since he’d been getting to know her, she looked truly thrown off guard, like the concept of betraying family was unfathomable to her. Truthfully, Amos could understand why she felt that way, considering all her close relationships at camp. Even Amos, who arguably had no close relationships there couldn’t imagine betraying any of his fellow campers, it would just be too cruel.

Ares was unfazed, shrugging nonchalantly. “That’s always the best kind of war. All the blood, the betrayal… There’s nothing quite like watching your relatives tear into each other.” He laughed again.

“You gave me the backpack in Denver,” Percy interjected. He had looked angry before, but now he looked furious. Perhaps it was due to Ares’ nature, his tendency to rile people up, or perhaps he was just sick of it. There was so much deception, so many lies and tricks, and with the loss of his mother still fresh, it wasn’t unimaginable to think that Percy had simply reached the end of his rope. “The master bolt was in there the whole time.”

“Yes and no,” Ares shrugged. “Your little mortal minds aren’t advanced enough to understand it, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just tweaked a little bit. The bolt was always connected to it, sort of like how that little sword of yours is connected to you, always finding its way back. I tinkered with it a bit so that the master bolt wouldn’t appear until you reached the Underworld, that way if you died on the way, I still had the weapon. No harm, no foul.”

Amos felt his head spin. The whole situation was such a mess, almost too confusing to follow. It was weird, and he couldn’t help the foreboding feeling stirring inside of him, like this was just one piece of a larger, more evil puzzle.

It seemed like Percy agreed as he stared at the god with furrowed brows. “But why not keep it for yourself? It’s the master bolt,” The son of Poseidon tilted his head slightly as he questioned the war god. “Why go through all this effort to send it to Hades?”

“Yeah…” Ares mumbled, suddenly stiffening as though he was listening to something else. “Why did I… With that kind of power I could…”

The four teenagers exchanged concerned looks. Annabeth’s gaze grew steely and grim, like she had just realized something terrible. That’s not at all concerning… If whatever was going on with Ares was related to Annabeth’s dark look, Amos feared what it might mean — for them and everyone else.

After a moment, Ares’ face cleared, as though he hadn’t just fallen into a strange trance. “I didn’t want the trouble, simple as that. Better for you to be caught redhanded.”

“You're lying. Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“Of course it was!” Ares growled. Smoke rose up from behind his glasses, the fire in his eyes blazing with fury. “I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don’t have dreams!”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about dreams?”

Dreams… Amos felt his stomach drop. Dreams like Percy has been having? Dreams like I’ve been having? His own nightmares had slowed down throughout the quest, fading as they reached the Underworld to the point that Amos could only remember the fact that he had dreams. He barely remembered what they were about, the memories fading as soon as he woke, but his body remembered, always leaving him with shaky hands and a racing heart.

If dreams had made Ares the thief, if they had prompted him to try and start a war, what would they do to him and Percy? The thought alone made Amos hold onto his retracted spear just a bit tighter, hoping to get some sense of security.

“Let’s get back to the problem at hand, kid,” Ares said, quick to change the subject. “You’re alive, that’s a problem for me. See, I can’t have you taking that bolt to Olympus and convincing the idiots up there to listen to you. So it’s nothing personal but…” He snapped his fingers, and the sand exploded at Ares’ feet. He had made a wild boar appear, with unnaturally red eyes and tusks that seemed almost razor sharp. “I’ve got to kill you.”

“How are we going to get out of this…” Annabeth mumbled, half to herself, and half to the three boys. “Maybe if we-”

“Fight me yourself, Ares.” Percy declared loudly, stopping any attempts to try and think of another way out.

Amos was terrified for his friend, they all were. Grover looked pale, and Annabeth was staring ahead with wide, nervous eyes. “Percy-” Amos hissed quietly. He wasn’t sure what he could say to convince his friend to back down, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just let Percy charge in impulsively, dying because he had been egged on too far by Ares.

The war god laughed, loud and booming. “You’ve only got one talent kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera, from the Underworld…” Amos could see Percy clenching his fists the more Ares spoke. “You don’t have what it takes.”

“Scared?” Percy asked, impertinent as always.

“In your adolescent dreams,” Ares scoffed. The fire in his eyes was so hot it was melting his sunglasses, showing just how irritated the war god was with the boy. “No direct involvement, sorry kid. Besides, you aren’t at my level.”

Annabeth, who had been keeping her eyes trained on the boar shouted suddenly, making Amos jump in surprise. “Percy, run!”

The boar charged, snorting and squealing with rage. It was thankful that Percy had such quick reflexes, otherwise he definitely would have been skewered by the animal. Instead, he was quick to uncap his sword slashing at the boar’s tusk in order to throw it off balance. While it was unbalanced, stumbling slightly and veering off towards the sea, Percy waved his hand, prompting a surge of water to rush up. A large wave swallowed up the animal, leaving Percy staring off against Ares.

The action left Amos staring at his friend with new eyes. Wow… He thought in wonder, Has he always been that good? Or has he secretly been practicing when we’re all asleep? Amos knew Percy was naturally talented, but still, with no training and still new to the world of monsters and gods, it was impressive that he could use his powers so efficiently.

As he stared at the war god, Percy kept his gaze even, which honestly was pretty impressive. It isn’t every day a person tries to face off against a guy who was literally the embodiment of violence and rage. “Are you going to fight me now? Or will you hide behind another pet pig?”

Ares’ face reddened with anger. “Watch it, brat. I could turn you into-”

“A co*ckroach. Or a tapeworm,” Percy said, and Amos had the sudden urge to pull his friend back and whack him over the head. He’s really never going to learn, Amos lamented in his mind. Percy is probably always going to try and anger the all-powerful beings who can kill us with a snap of their fingers, isn’t he? “Yeah, I’m sure,” He continued. “That’d save you from getting your butt kicked, wouldn’t it?”

“Man,” Ares laughed again, though he no longer sounded amused. Now, he was just mad. “You really are asking to be smashed into a grease spot.”

Percy paid the cruel words no mind. “If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt.” Amos felt his heart drop. There’s no way he’s actually doing this… right? “If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away.”

Ares sneered, twirling the bat he had been carrying. “How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern.” Silently, Percy simply showed him his sword. He’s really doing this… “Cool, you got it, dead boy. Classic it is.” With another twirl of the bat, it transformed into a massive bronze sword, encrusted with rubies and skulls.

“Don’t do this, Percy,” Annabeth said, pulling their friend back to talk as her brows furrowed in worry. “He’s a god.”

Percy glared at the ground, a frown firm on his face. “He’s a coward.”

“Percy, there are other ways,” Amos said, his voice wavering. “We have the bolt. Let’s just go to Olympus and maybe Zeus can help-”

“No,” The son of Poseidon shook his head. “I have to do this.” Amos wanted to scream at his friend’s stubbornness.

Annabeth sighed, looking down briefly in defeat. “Take this at least. For good luck.” She took her camp necklace and tied it around his neck. “Reconciliation. Athena and Poseidon together.”

Percy smiled, and for the first time since leaving the Underworld, he looked happy. It was a nice look on him.

“And take this,” Grover said, handing Percy a flattened tin can. “I was saving it but… Forget that. The satyrs are behind you.”

“Grover… Thank you.”

Amos flushed slightly as Percy glanced at him. He had nothing to give, no secret possessions, no symbolic gift. Gods, maybe I should have picked up more souvenirs from Waterland… He smiled sheepishly. “I don’t have anything but…” Amos paused slightly, feeling his face burn. Oh, what the hell. He pulled Percy in for a sudden hug. “Please try not to die,” Amos spoke quietly. “You’re my first real friend and I-” His voice broke slightly, the stress and the worry and the fear catching up to him. He tightened his hold on his friend slightly. “Just don’t die, Barnacle Brain. We need you.”

When he pulled away, Percy seemed flustered, a faint smile and a warm glow on his face.

Considering he was about to face off against the literal god of war, he probably should have been more preoccupied with that, but as he stared at Amos — who was smiling at him sadly, and whose eyes seemed to shine despite the darkness, and who was fiddling with his retracted spear the way he always seemed to when he got nervous — Percy found himself focused on more trivial things. I really hope my face isn’t red. “I won’t.” He said simply, trying to give Amos a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

Amos wanted to talk more, to stop him from being such an impulsive idiot and trying to win a fight that was so stacked against him, to tell him not to make promises like that unless he meant it, but before he could even get a chance Ares spoke once again.

He sounded co*cky, an arrogant air about him as he walked towards them. “All done saying goodbye?” He smirked patronizingly. “I’ve been fighting for eternity kid. My strength is unlimited and I can’t die. What have you got?”

Percy didn’t respond, and Amos was pretty sure the fight that broke out shaved a few years off of his life from all the stress and worry.

Watching Ares attack Percy was terrifying. They were kids after all, they were meant to be having fun and living carefree lives, not going through a potentially deadly fight against a god. Amos felt his heart race each time he saw Ares’ sword swing close to Percy, and his grip on his spear was so tight it made his knuckles sore, the skin still sensitive from his interaction with the fiery whips of the Furies at the start of the quest. His heart dropped as he watched Ares land a hit, sending Percy flying towards a sand dune.

Just then — because the universe was surely against them at this point — the cops showed up. Amos wasn’t sure what the mortals saw, but whatever it was must have been probably highly concerning.

“That looks like that kid on TV…” Amos heard one of the officers say, and he suddenly felt like the biggest idiot in the world. He had forgotten that Percy was technically wanted for questioning. They had been so caught up in the godly side of things they didn’t even consider what was going on in the mortal world.

“What do we do?” He asked Annabeth and Grover anxiously. His eyes darted from Percy and Ares to the cops, who were increasing in number. “How are we supposed to get out of this?”

Annabeth gave him a bleak look. “We can’t.”

It was overwhelming, all that was going on. As Ares and Percy continued fighting, and the cops continued surrounding them, the sound of wings flapping echoed overhead, and a shimmering mist began rising from the ground. The Furies, Amos realized, And spirits. The spirits surrounded them, almost as if they were simultaneously trying to see the spectacle, while also trying to hide the three teens not involved in the fight. Beside him, Annabeth and Grover shivered, the cold feeling that often accompanied spirits affecting them. “W-What are they doing…?” Grover breathed out, hugging himself to ward off the cold.

“Helping.” The words slipped from Amos’ mouth so easily, like he was in tune with the spirits. “Hiding us… I think.”

The sound of the police trying to interfere saved Amos from having to answer the weird looks Grover and Annabeth were giving him. “Drop the guns!” One of the officers shouted over a megaphone. If they weren’t in a life-or-death situation, Amos might’ve found the fact that swords became guns in the eyes of mortals amusing. “Set them on the ground, now!”

“Leave us be!” Ares shouted in anger. “This is a private matter.” With a wave of his hand, a giant wall of flames burst forward, cutting off the view of the police.

After that point, it was a little hard to see the fight. The spirits around them made everything sort of hazy, and the brightness of the flames certainly didn’t help. They could only barely make out the figures, watching as the smaller figure — Percy — successfully stabbed at Ares’ heel. The shout that Ares let out was so loud Amos swore it shook the ground. “Did Percy…” Grover began with wide eyes, staring at the scene in amazement.

“He did.” Even Annabeth was shocked, her voice astonished. “Percy just stabbed the god of war.”

The flames died down, and the spirits seemingly parted around them, as though knowing the three other teens wanted to see their friend.

“You’ve made an enemy, godling. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse.” Ares sneered. “Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.” And with that, he began glowing, a warm glow from beneath his skin that only seemed to grow brighter. Amos had heard of what happens when a god reveals their true form, but he hadn’t thought it would look so nice, pretty almost. (Or that he would be associating those words with Ares of all the gods).

“Percy, don’t watch!” Annabeth shouted in warning. It was a good thing she did, as Amos was so caught up in the view he almost forgot to look away.

When Amos opened his eyes, the Furies were there taking back the helm with an almost disappointed look in their eyes. It’s like they wanted to kill us. Amos shivered at the thought. “Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again…” She trailed off, cackling with her sisters as they flew off.

As they left, the spirits around them seemed to sink into the ground. “Thank you,” Amos said softly. For trying to help us, for hiding us from the mortals, he wanted to say, yet none of the words came out. Despite that, as they disappeared into the earth, he felt like they understood him, and he swore he saw one of the spirits nod to him before vanishing from sight.

“Percy!” Grover shouted, a bright smile on his face. “That was so incredibly…”

“Terrifying.”

“Cool.”

“Stupid.”

Annabeth, Grover, and Amos spoke simultaneously. Percy gave them a weak smile, like he wanted to laugh but simply couldn’t muster up the energy. To be fair, he did fight with a god though, so that added up.

“We have to get back to New York.” Percy said, quick to remind them of the approaching deadline, “By tonight.”

Annabeth shook her head. “We can’t. Not unless-”

“We have to fly,” Percy said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, like in an airplane? Like in Zeus’ domain where he could very easily strike you and the rest of us out of the sky?” Amos raised an eyebrow at his friend, apprehensive about the whole situation.

Percy gave them another smile, though still very clearly exhausted. “Yup.”

Annabeth, Grover, and Amos exchanged wary glances, but in the end, they couldn’t really argue. They did need to get back and stop World War III from breaking out. Amos gave a heavy sigh, feeling like he would regret his decision. “Well… I guess we’ve made it this far. What’s one more near-death experience?”

Percy laughed lightly, “That’s the spirit. Come on, we’ve got to hurry.”

As they began walking towards civilization, Amos noticed Percy lagging behind, still affected by his fight with Ares. He hesitated for a moment before slowing to match his friend’s pace. Amos was still new to the whole having friends thing, so truthfully he felt unsure and a little embarrassed, but he wanted to help. “You can… lean on me if you want?” He felt his face burn as Percy stared at him in confusion. “You know, like…” Struggling to verbalize what he meant, Amos huffed softly before taking Percy’s arm and draping it across his shoulders, providing his friend’s weak legs some more stability.

“Thanks.” Percy felt his ears turn red, and he tried not to be too aware of how close they were to each other.

“Anytime,” Amos said softly. “That’s what friends are for.” Yeah, he thought to himself. Friends… He looked ahead at Grover and Annabeth, who were trying to work out the best way they could avoid the cops and make it on a plane. How did I go so long thinking I didn’t need them? He walked the rest of the way with a soft smile on his face, surrounded by friends.