I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, nor do I own anything that involves Rick Riordan or Mythology. I am a teenage girl with some time on her hands, and that's all. This is for practice, not profit.
He had gotten used to the smell of disinfectant. The bright white walls still made his eyes tear up, though that could have been for a different reason. Percy tried to ignore the bouquet of pink carnations that adorned his mother's bedside table, a few already wilting pathetically into themselves.
Now that he thought about it, they reminded him of his mother. That was sad.
Sally's parched lips parted to speak, white against white.
"Promise, Percy." The boy didn't understand. His mother was a smart lady, smarter than anyone he had ever met—and his English teacher was pretty smart. Why would she—? A hacking noise caught his attention and effectively cut off his train of thought.
Terrified, the green-eyed ten year-old eyed the woman who was currently coughing into her clenched fist on the hospital bed. Percy knew she didn't want him to see it, but the splatter of blood coating her paler-than-snow skin—which was tinged the slightest bit of blue—was painfully obvious.
"Mom…" Please, his thoughts begged. Don't make me…
"Perseus Haley Jackson, promise me!" He flinched, eyes flashing as they darted about. How could someone so sick yell so loud? He was sure the walls shook with the power her voice held, and remembered the times when his mother never yelled.
Percy had thought her hand squeezing his couldn't get any tighter, but she managed just fine. His face shifted into countless expressions, one after the other, before his mouth finally settled into one grim line.
Ignoring how his body shivered from the suddenly too-cold room, he nodded. His mother smiled.
It was a scary sight.
Two Years Later
Poseidon Olympia would disagree if anyone said he enjoyed having a rich father. He would complain that he had never been around when he was child, that Kronos didn't even care for him, but you could see the sparkle in his eye that told a whole other story—after all, money was all he had. Poseidon remembered growing up with the finest toys there was on the market, the delicious and expensive food his sickly mother had prepared (He licked his lips at the very thought) and the huge bedroom he had slept in with its bed smothered in pillows. It made up for the mostly absent father part of his childhood.
And even now, instead of family, he had money. Or, more importantly, his father's money.
Poseidon had literally nothing that was his own.
He had no job, his father was the one who bought his house for him, and the last time he had managed to find an acceptable date (not a fling) was over three months ago. And despite all these flaws… To the world, Poseidon was the famous son of Kronos Olympia, with his good looks and countless surfing trophies. He was perfect.
Personally, he didn't know what they were talking about.
But because of this fame—this perfection, Poseidon was extremely used to silly rumors that floated around. In fact, there had been several reports about how he had a harem of breast-less, exotic wives whose tongues were like snakes and hair just as coiled.
To be perfectly blunt, he had refused to listen to any more of the bull that popped up here and there after that.
So when a social worker showed up at his home on an early Monday morning—his pudgy face beaming and his nametag reading "Tedd"—he slammed the door in his face. Honestly, who had time for such a stupid thing?
Tedd the social worker knocked again. And again. And again.
And again. Ridiculous.
Poseidon swung open the door and eyed the worker's sweaty visage with barely kept contempt. It was too early to smile. "Yes?" he asked through gritted teeth. The man's smile seemed to brighten, and Poseidon swore his eyes started to liquefy.
"Hello, Mr. Olympia!" Tedd chirped. "I'm so sorry to bother you at such an early time, but—"
"If this is about my supposed harem," he cut him off, scowling, "I wore protection." It was too early to have proper humor as well. Tedd blushed so hard even his ears turned red.
"Uh, n-no, sir, it's nothing like t-that…" His expression turned serious, and the esteemed surfer liked him even less. "I'm here to talk to you about Sally Jackson."
For a second, Poseidon swore his heart stopped beating. His breath hitched.
"S-Sal?" he stuttered. Yes, the man remembered Sally Jackson quite well. He remembered her pretty smile and the way her slim fingers always moved to tuck back the stray lock of hair that didn't exist, and he certainly remembered the love they had shared over twelve years ago. He hadn't seen her in years. The last time was… Poseidon swallowed hard before gathering some composure. "What about her?" He attempted to sound uninterested. Tedd just smiled in compassion.
Yeah, he definitely didn't like him.
"Well, I'm afraid she has passed away…" Poseidon gapped. Mostly because the idea of lively Sally being dead was absurd, but also because the man literally had no tact.
"Excuse me?" he asked hollowly. Tedd the idiotic social worker repeated himself, and continued to explain that she had died almost over two years ago over some disease Poseidon didn't care to think about. Sal's dead... Sal's dead? He shook his head once, twice, and finally met the man's nondescript brown eyes. Tedd gave the shocked man a small smile and continued. "She left you something." He blinked.
"Why would she do that?" The social worker laughed.
"I don't believe she had much of a choice!" He shook his head, amused. Poseidon didn't get it. He told him as much. Tedd's annoying, now shit-eating grin widened a fraction, revealing a piece of beige-colored food stuck between his teeth. "You have a son."
Now Poseidon was the one laughing.
After a cup of coffee (He was on his second cup now) and having Tedd explain everything for the fifth time, the words finally sunk in. "It was quite unfortunate," he had said, clucking his tongue. "I've heard so many wonderful things about Mrs. Jackson. And to imagine, her own son had to watch her fade away!" It was just sick, and Poseidon didn't know what to think.
"What's he like?" He questioned after a few moments of awkward silence. Tedd sank into his leather couch, his face screaming This Might Take a While. He was sure his expression screamed This Is Just like the Movies and I Didn't Sign Up For This.
Poseidon swallowed hard, and took another gulp of the piping hot liquid. It burned his tongue, but he ignored it, steeling himself for the worst.
"His name is Perseus, though I believe he likes to be called Percy." The social worker shrugged. "I've never really met the poor boy, though, so I can't tell you much. All I know is that my buddy Mike—he's a social worker too—is pretty attached to him. He would be here himself, but I think he's taking the kid out to break the news." Poseidon's bright eyes narrowed.
"Break the news?" He repeated.
Tedd grinned, shaking his head almost fondly. "Break the news about you, obviously." He just blinked. "Perseus doesn't even know that you exist."
"That about sums it up, yes." Well, that was lame. Poseidon, who was now apparently a father (And wasn't that just hilarious?), didn't know what to think as he scrubbed a hand across his eyes.
"This is just fantastic." His words were harshly grumbled out and gruff. "I mean, how am I supposed to take care of a kid?" He had been sixteen when he had last seen Sally Jackson, and they had not been on the best of terms when they had separated ways. When he had ditched her, to be specific. He cringed despite himself. What a dick, he scolded.
But he couldn't focus on that now. That was in the past.
Perseus, however, wasn't. He was a problem, and a big one at that.
He was only twenty-eight, so how could he be expected to take care of a troubled preteen? There was only a good sixteen years between them, it seemed, and Poseidon still felt much like a child himself.
Could he just… not take him? There would be better parents, better people… They could take him in, care for him… Maybe that Mike-guy Tedd was speaking of…
But no. Poseidon couldn't do that. His own father had at least not abandoned him, even if he wasn't the best… He had moaned and complained about his father when he was younger, still did, but if he ditched his own son… He'd just be a hypocrite, and Poseidon hated those kinds of people. "Why wasn't I informed sooner? You say she's been," he clenched his fists, "deceased for a while now." The social worker was positively embarrassed.
"Well… You see, some important papers have been misplaced for some time now, and…" Tedd averted his eyes. "Some new information has…popped up; the situation has changed."
"Changed?" he asked, suspicious. Tedd fiddled his thumbs.
"Perseus was staying with his step-father till a couple of days ago. He was deemed unfit to take care of a child." Poseidon opened his mouth to say something, sea green eyes flashing, but Tedd pressed on hurriedly. "I can't give you much information, t-this kind of t-thing isn't in m-my field!" The man stuttered out part of his sentence, having the guts to actually look ashamed as he stared up into the new father's furious eyes.
Good, Poseidon thought sneeringly. He froze. One question floated in his head.
And for the life of him, he couldn't find the answer for it.
Please don't kill me! I know I haven't been on in forever, but... Okay, I don't really have an excuse. To be honest, I've had Writer's Block for only God knows how long now, and I still haven't gotten rid of it. This little story-line has been in the works for around six weeks, and I just now managed to get it down on paper (document?). And look at how short it is!
On that note, don't expect me to update often. I just figured that you guys deserved a little something. Have you forgotten about me yet?
I really need to change my username, ugh.