Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or any of its cannon characters.

Explanation: Ok… sorry this part is gonna be so long guys, but it's a weird fic to begin with. I had an odd PJO-themed dream Thursday night, and this is literally me jotting it all down, just edited to make the wording a little better. That's why there's some Harry Potter and Chasing Vermeer stuff.

Setting: Unknown. Some stuff is present that means it's after TLO, but some that means it's during LT/TC/BotL. It was from a weird dream, just go along with it.


I awoke suddenly.

In the darkness of Cabin 3, all was normal—or at least, as normal as anything is at Camp Half-Blood. Weird monster noises in the woods, the sound of waves on the beach. Tyson on the bunk next to mine, snoring like a peaceful freight truck.

I rolled over and checked the time. 3:21 A.M. Everyone else would be asleep.

But I couldn't. After wrestling impatiently with my mind for about four minutes, I finally kicked the blankets off and got up. The harpies would be outside, I knew. But of course me and my ADHD paid no attention to this, and I got my shoes on then slipped out of the cabin. A nice walk along the beach, I thought, that'll clear my head up. Being the son of Poseidon, water had this calming effect on me.

I tread slowly, testing my right foot. Less than two weeks ago, that leg had been under critical care. Actually, all of me had been pretty much on deathwatch. That was why I couldn't go on the quest.

I kicked a pile of sand, my anger reminded to stir up again. It hadn't been anyone's fault. But here Annabeth had gotten her own urgent quest, and I had been in hospitalized state, unable to go.

So my friends were gone. Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia were off fighting monsters and saving the world somewhere, while I was stuck here alone.

Biizzzzzzzzzzzzz. I cursed in Ancient Greek. The harpies, of course. I had to get back to my cabin before I was eaten. Biiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. This time closer. I broke into a run. Over my shoulder, I saw three of them, squawking to each other excitedly. They'd spotted me.

Ducking my head, I sprinted the last few yards then ducked behind a bush. Hopefully they wouldn't find me.

"Hey!" a shrill voice rang out. I found myself face to face with a nymph, and cursed under my breath again. Things were so not going my way this summer. Before I could even try to shut her up, the harpies started squawking again. Found.

"Gee, thanks." I said to her sarcastically before running off again.

I was halfway across the big U where the cabins stood. Plain, open ground.

"Half-blood to eat! SQUAWWWK!"

I'd never been a runner, even fully healed now, and they were closing in. I raced the last few yards, shot into Cabin 3 and slammed the door behind me with all my might. For a moment, I slumped down and sat there, panting, then before I knew it fell asleep.

* * *

A brick wall slammed into me. Again. Then again. "Percy?"


"Percy! Why is my brother sleeping on the door?"

Tyson was standing over me, his big brown eye a mix of confusion and concern. I sat up groggily, realizing where I was. In my cabin. Safe. I straightened and turned to Tyson.

"Hey, big guy." I said.

"Is Percy okay?" Tyson asked, his one cyclops eye still huge.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I managed. I decided I'd rather not tell Tyson about my midnight escapade.

"I kinda, er, passed out earlier."

"Percy is okay." Tyson repeated, smiling now. "Time for breakfast?"

We headed out of the cabin and started walking, where we met up with my newer friends Damien and Carla. Damien Lestat was a cool African kid who was at camp during the summers, like me, but I'd only recently began hanging out with him much. Damien, like most Hermes kids, likes to be the center of a laugh, always making fun of his own small stature and funny glasses. The short side of hanging out with him (no pun intended), was that the more time you spend in his presence, the more details you hear that you did not want to know about Damien and his girlfriend.

Carla Argyros was undetermined and new to camp. About mine and Damien's age, she looks normal—but don't let that fool you. Her long, straight brown hair, braces, average light-coloured skin and average size hide this sometimes. Carla is an acrobat. She's amazing—jump off the rock wall, flip around dummies, whatever. Carla is the only camper who has ever beaten me at a swordfight (besides Luke), which she did by agilely dancing around and between obstacles, making me dizzy, then attacking by jumping from a perch above. Thick glasses cover her green eyes, but they never seem to fall off during her crazy stunts.

"Ellohello!" Carla cried, cart wheeling over as soon as she saw us. Before anyone could protest, she gave us both big hugs, making Tyson smile and giggle. He thought Carla's resemblance to a rubber band on espresso was the coolest thing since pegasi, or "chicken ponies" as he called them.

"Hi Carla!" he exclaimed eagerly.

Behind her, Damien was trudging over. He might have been still asleep.

"Yo," he mumbled in greeting. That was pretty much how I felt.

I couldn't tell if the nymphs would recognize me from last night and call me out, but I didn't take any chances. Hiding under Tyson, Damien, and Carla, I made my way to Poseidon's table for breakfast.

* * *