For My Love (Percy Jackson/Avengers Crossover)

CHAPTER 3: PERCY

The officer on the left glanced at his partner, raising an eyebrow and almost imperceptible shook his head. I clocked onto this little interaction immediately. Were they too working with the murderer? Could I trust no one?

"Perseus."

"Percy, please call me Percy."

"Alright then Percy, we have the murderer in custody with a severe concussion and internal bleeding on the brain. But the thing is, he had no particular motive towards you or your parents. He just happened to in your apartment block, maybe looking for your one of neighbours or just a terrible coincidence. However, it is not your fault. And as you acted in self-defence and the law states that if someone breaks into your home, you are allowed to use any form of self-defence you deem necessary, you will not be trialled. Go back to the hospital, they need to keep you under observation to check that you've recovered enough from the blood loss. Get checked out and we'll have a social worker down to sort out your living arrangements for you and Lizzy, at least for until you turn 18."

A social worker. I sat back, astounded, the idea of foster homes having barely crossed my mind in the whirlwind of events. There was little chance that Lizzy and I would stay together as foster homes were often based around age; teens together and small kids together. I couldn't lose Lizzy as well.

"Percy? Kid, are you alright?" The officer leaned forward, peering at my face. "You're looking quite pale, you dizzy?"

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak in case my voice trembled and gave away just how shaken I was. Mutely, I stood up, leaning heavily on my crutches, Lizzy sitting in the baby rucksack I was wearing, and limped out of that room as fast as I could. I never wanted to speak to those men again, the men in blue were no help. For all I knew they could be trying to stitch me up.

I stood by the door of the church, greeting each of the guests as they entered, thanking them for offering their condolences. Like that would ever bring back my parents. Lizzy and I had been staying temporarily with Paul's parents but they simply didn't have the means to support two kids so it was only a solution until the social workers decided what would be the best course of action. I was almost certain it was going to be a foster home, where Lizzy and I would be split up because to give it straight, we had no relatives that we were in contact with who could support us.

Annabeth, Nico, Will and Jason managed to come up from camp and I didn't know whether to be grateful that they had come or frustrated that they were coming to see me at my lowest. I was meant to be the strong commander of the demigods, uniting Greece and Rome and I had been left fraught with worry after a few more deaths. Had I not suffered through enough to be unaffected by now? I didn't want to feel this; I wanted to stay strong in order to prove that I wasn't crippled by one tragic accident. If my mom was still here, she'd brush her hand against my cheek and say "speak to me mi cariño." Then all aches and pains would seem to fade away because she'd hold me in her arms and I'd be safe again. Mom and I against the world. Back when I didn't know I was a demigod; I was bullied because I couldn't read proper and I was always too fidgety. Yet mom would wipe away my tears and take me home to freshly baked blue cookies, blue to spite Gabe. Maybe that was why it became my favourite colour, a small way to rebel because I was too scared of him to do anything else but that. He was a monster and she didn't have enough time to do everything she wanted to do because of Gabe and I. Mom was always worried that I'd go out on a quest and wouldn't return, she never worried that she'd be the one to go early. I never imagined that. But I brought it upon them.

Flashes of cameras inundated the front of the church, focusing on the red Porsche Boxster and the figure stepping out. It couldn't be. He and mom hadn't spoken for years due to a fight between their parents that they ended up being dragged into. Mom had never told me much about my uncle, other than who he was and that they no longer spoke. I think she sometimes regretted it, never trying to apologise or reconnect after their parents died in a car crash. But Mom told me that often she saw flashes of her father in her brother and that scared her. Her father had been an alcoholic, a genius as well, but an alcoholic nonetheless. And he was always caught up in work, busy trying to find a man who everyone else thought was dead. But my uncle was another story. Although he liked a drink from time to time, he was rich, incredibly successful and had all the means necessary to reach out to my mom again and make the past right but he was doing it now. After her death like a coward. Maybe it was the fact that he had been through some tough times that made him rethink everything but he still waited until it was too late. Sure, a stint with terrorist kidnappers in the Afghanistan would make even the worst person in the world come around to their senses. For him, all it seemed to have done was instil a cowardliness.