𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 • 𝑱𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆

005.

[ maybe we are our families, after all ]

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The initial snap back to reality caused Mabel to inhale suddenly, jolting violently in her chair— a fact that she had unfortunately forgotten to tell Percy usually happened.

He jumped with a small scream that he would probably deny ever emitting. Quickly clearing his throat, he adjusted in his seat so he was no longer in the fetal position. "You okay?"

She made a small noise in the back of her throat, leaning forward a little and gripping her head. A killer migraine washed over her in waves, and she had to put immense amounts of concentration to even register what he had said.

Not wanting to nod, she grunted, nails digging into her scalp. "Fine. Just something that happens when I do one of these."

"Oh." Mabel kept her eyes screwed shut, afraid the minimal lighting around them would only worsen her pain. Despite her inability to see him, Percy Jackson was predictable enough for her to understand the difference between his satisfied silences and the silences where he was actively holding back a question.

True to her estimate, Percy spoke up again. "Was I still too tense?"

"No no, don't worry sugar it's not on you." She let out a shuddering exhale, trying to regroup herself— it wasn't working very well. "My powers have always worked like an exchange. Nearly all of them deal with me fiddling with people and their bodies. Since I do something to them, something kind of has to happen to me too. An exchange, if you will."

Gesturing from her head to where she assumed his still was, she muttered. "I look into your mind, mine feels like it's getting hit by a bulldozer. Exchange."

With Herculean strength, Mabel lifted her head, opening her eyes slowly. To no one's surprise, Percy was confused again. "So . . . what happens when you play doctor with people's fertility?"

She hummed. "Pretty sweet deal for me actually— my period usually gets super delayed. As in, I like, wouldn't get it at all for that month."

"Sick." Percy agreed. Rubbing his hands together, he re-adjusted in his seat. Clearly he had already been holding back his anticipation. "So, what did you find?"

She itched an eyebrow, not eager to burst his bubble. "Alright, I'm going to lead with the bad news first here. Hate to say it, Jackson, but I can't finesse your memories out of there."

A look of devastation flashed across his face, shoulders slumping. Though, in the next second, he'd altered his expression to that of indifference. Despite his efforts, his sadness still coated his tone. "Why not?"

That had confused her too. Rubbing her eyes almost aggressively, Mabel huffed. "For reasons that I can't quite seem to comprehend, there's—" she furrowed her brows, trying to think of a logical way to convey her message. "well, there's literally a wall in your head that's physically keeping your own shit from you. Honestly I have never seen something like that."

He frowned. "Does that mean I have some new, rare disease? I'm usually lucky like that."

Slowly shaking her head, Mabel tapped her lips with her index finger. "Not quite. It seems to me that you just have a new, rare variation of a pre-existing disease. In this case, a branch of amnesia." She crossed her arms. "Frankly what's confusing me the most is the wall. It's almost as if . . ." She trailed off, unsure if her theory was solid enough to voice aloud.