Teacher, Not Hero (femPercy Jackson X YJ)

Thirty-Eight: Boxes

Percy P.O.V:

After Wally left, I figured I should try and actually get some sleep. After all, tomorrow was Friday. Annabeth would be coming with tacos and we would spend the day in Happy Harbor and everything would be ok. I needed to be at least semi-rested for that.

I understood where Wally was coming from. He put himself in a situation where he wanted to save people. What happened when he couldn't? It was a logical fear. I did my best to give him some advice; even if I am a hypocrite. The guilt of people I had failed weighs down on me all day everyday. As touched as I am that he came to me for help, I'm not really the best person for advice when it comes to "moving on".

Despite this, I brushed my teeth and got into bed, hoping for a decent night's sleep.

Gods how I wish I just stayed up.

Percy Dream P.O.V:

I was sitting in the Big House. It was early morning. Today was going to be a hard day.

Annabeth came into view, another box in hand. This one had a light pink banner folded neatly on top. As she handed it to me, although it was identically in size, it felt a heavier than the rest.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Annabeth questioned. I sighed.

"Someone has to." Annabeth looked at me, sadness in her eyes.

"It doesn't have to be you, Percy. This wasn't your fault." I shake my head. In no way shape or from was this not my fault.

"I led them into battle, Annabeth." I take a breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "The least I can do is lead them home." Annabeth looks at me, sorrow marking her soft features.

"Well you don't have to go alone." She steps forward, taking my hand. I drop it and back away from her, box in hand.

"Yes. I do."

The scene changes, I'm walking up a drive way. Blackjack and another pegasus, Chestnut, are in the backyard. They are pulling a chariot. In my hands, the pink box.

She deserves to go first.

I knock on the door, and nearly break when I see a hopeful looking man open the door. He pauses in confusion at me. He doesn't know who I am.

I am the person about to ruin his life.

I clear my throat.

"Good morning, sir. My name is Percy Jackson. I have to tell you something regarding your daughter. May I come inside?"

The man tenses. He knows about the gods. He knows that if I know his daughter I could be a threat He doesn't let me in. I don't push further.

"No, sorry. What is this about my daughter? Has something happened?" I take a deep breath. I can't cry. I cannot cry. Not here. Here I have to be strong. I have to be strong. I steel my voice and lock my face in neutral.

"5 days ago your daughter, Silena Beauregard, was part of a battle in Manhattan. We were fighting against the Titan Kronos in a war for Olympus. I regret to inform you that during this battle, your daughter was killed in action." I pause to breathe, but not for longer than that. I have to keep going. If I stop for too long I'll break. I cannot break.

"She received a demigod funeral. Her name will be added to the K.I.A. memorial stone in Camp Half-blood. Should you wish to visit this memorial, please contact Chiron so that a demigod can escort you. Please feel free to create your own memorial for her." I can see the tears running down his face. He is falling apart. I am destroying his world. I am thankful that he is letting me finish. I doubt that luck will continue. I take another breath and check to make sure my face is still neutral.

"These are all of Silena's personal items from her cabin along with her armor and weapons. I must ask that you handle all celestial bronze items with care and do not sell them. If you don't want them, please return them to Camp Half-blood." I hold out the box and he numbly takes it. His face is wet with tears and I know he is trying his best not to scream.

"I am so sorry for your loss. Silena was a wonderful person. She sacrificed herself and was essential to winning the war. We would have lost had she not been as brave as she was. She died a hero." I can see that my words are barely registering with him at this point. I give a short bow and turn to leave. I am halfway down the steps when a small voice calls out.

"Wait..." I turn to face the man, holding in my tears.

"Thank you," he says. "Thank you for telling me in person." I try for a small smile but I know it comes off as more of a grimace. I nod at him once more before continuing my walk back to the chariot.

I wipe my eyes and sniffle. I can't start crying now. I can cry tomorrow. I can break and mourn tomorrow. I look into the chariot and a sob nearly escapes my lips.

I still have a lot of boxes to deliver.