CW: Panic attack, medical scene (stitches, blood)
Mortals sure can come up with an excuse for anything. When Percy gets off the train, Annabeth's limp and battered body over his shoulder, passengers thank him for stopping the train before it 'hit that family of ducks.'
In reality, he stopped the train because there was a monster Percy didn't recognize running a rampage in one of the train cars. The mortals that were in the train car with him think they had to switch cars because some old lady's purse dog started peeing everywhere. Those people also thank Percy at the station, and one of them even buys him a coffee for his troubles.
He honestly wishes it were a pissing poodle or a family of ducklings to blame. He didn't like slicing a dog in two, especially not since he's a dog person. It looked so sad when it realized its unfortunate fate.
More than that, Annabeth looked so weak with a dog's tooth in the side of her face. Percy's never seen her freeze like that; she could have taken it. She wears weapons in her hair. She could have taken those weapons and killed the dog herself.
That's not important now. What is important is finding the nearest hotel and setting up a makeshift infirmary. He knows that cuts on the face tend to bleed profusely and for a long time, so the amount of blood on Annabeth's face truly looks worse than it is, but he doesn't know anything about that cloned monster that came after them. Hell, he doesn't even know if it was a cloned monster. There's no reason why Annabeth's ex-hookup and Pothos wouldn't be able to do the same thing with a regular animal.
Percy sets Annabeth down on a bench and finishes the last of his coffee before tossing it into a wastebasket. Hopefully, the caffeine gives him the energy to drag her to the nearest hotel. Munich is a big city. There's got to be a hotel somewhere.
They're due for a little luck.
***
The hotel concierge doesn't ask Percy too many questions when he shows up at the front desk, blood staining the shoulder of his t-shirt and Annabeth herself getting more blood on the other side of the shoulder. He just says, "Any room!" and then slides the New Rome credit card across the table.
He almost forgets to take the card back after the concierge gives him the room key. He doesn't even do a double take when he finds out he just bought the honeymoon suite.
When Percy, at last, gets into the hotel room, he goes straight for the bathroom because, despite the emergency, he'll still feel guilty if New Rome has an excessive amount of damage on that credit card.
Annabeth's been in and out since the incident. Now and then she mumbles something like, "I don't wanna..." or "Please leave me alone now." Percy doesn't know what any of that means. She sort of trails off before he can catch anything substantial.
He hoists her onto the countertop—the white countertop—and runs some tissues under the faucet, but then realizes a little too late that tissues are not supposed to be soaked, and has to pick little pieces of soggy tissue off his fingers.
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Annabeth teetering like a buoy. He manages to reach over and keep her from smacking her head against the mirror. She can't have a concussion on top of everything else.
Finally, Percy decides that New Rome is just going to have to make a sacrifice for the greater good, and grabs the hand towel hanging from the wall.
Annabeth hisses in pain when he dabs it against her cheek. Maybe she'll feel better if he talks to her. "Hey," he says, "I've gotta clean this out so it doesn't get infected. Don't freak out, but there's a lot of blood."
He can't get a good read on how she's feeling; her eyes don't open for longer than a few seconds at a time.
"Please..." she mumbles.
"I'm doing my best," he declares. "I'm going to run this under some water; it might be cold."
When he holds the towel under the steady stream, he notices that the water runs red, red, red, and then pink. It doesn't wash out very well, and by the looks of Annabeth's face, the blood is still coming.
"I might need to do stitches," he says. He can do that—not well—but he can do his best. It'll have to do. He pushes some stray hairs out of her face and presses the towel against the cut until it's saturated once again.
"Hang tight," he says. "I'm going to come back with ambrosia and see if there's a sewing kit in the drawers." Percy knows that you shouldn't use an actual needle and thread if you can help it, but he certainly can't help it.
"Okay," Percy says, coming back into the bathroom. "I'm going to... uh..."
Annabeth lays on her side on the counter. It's a miracle she hasn't fallen off.
"Are you alright?" he asks, knowing fully well that she is not alright.
"Leave me alone..." she mumbles.
He sighs. "I promise, I will leave you alone once I..." How do you nicely explain to someone that you are about to stick a needle and thread through their face? Actually, Annabeth is probably fine with that; she's been there.
Percy reaches to help her sit up and explains, "Maybe if you just turn this way-"
"Don't touch me," she whines.
"Annabeth, we have to do this," he says.
"No."
This is getting ridiculous. "I know this sucks, but it's going to suck a lot more if it gets infected-"
"Go away."
Percy doesn't get it. Annabeth is supposed to be the rational one. He's honestly surprised she isn't doing this herself. "Sit back against the wall," he says. "I'll do this quickly and we can go back and fix it when you're..." Not so crazy? "When you've gotten some rest."
A nap sounds like a great idea right now. Percy hasn't had a good night's rest in a while, what with taking care of Annabeth every night at the New Rome Resort and then sleeping on the floor the other night. He was hoping to get some sleep on the train, but that certainly didn't happen.
He cradles the side of her face in his palm while she protests, and then thanks the gods that he remembered to thread the needle before coming back into the bathroom.
He tries to coax her into cooperating. "Come on, we'll get this over with, and then you can borrow a pair of my sweatpants if you want and go to sleep."
"Leave me alone!"
It smells weird.
He gives her a piece of ambrosia from the Ziploc bag. "Bite down on this."
"No! Stop!"
"I can't stop; we have to get this taken care of," Percy says. He tightens his grasp and sticks the needle through her. He feels terrible about it. It's even worse than killing that dog.
He could be doing this a lot faster if she weren't moving around so much.
"Ow!" he shouts. She just bit him.
"You promised you wouldn't hurt me anymore!"
That one's new. As he presses her head against the mirror once more he starts to wonder how much of this is actually about getting shady stitches from a guy she probably doesn't trust. "I'm trying to make things better," he says calmly. Did he remember to wash his hands before doing this?
Her blood paints his fingers red, but he's beyond caring. The wound reaches from just below her eye to her jaw. That could leave a nasty scar if it isn't taken care of.
"Almost done," he says. "You're doing great." That's a lie. She is being a huge baby.
"No more monsters!"
"I... What?" Percy asks, thrown off by the outburst.
Annabeth's never been a screamer, and if that had changed, he's pretty sure he would have found out before now. She usually just swears when something scares her, not that she's ever been one to scare easily.
So needless to say, he's more than a little thrown off by her blood-curdling scream when she looks into the mirror and sees the damage.
"It's... It's not that bad," Percy insists. "We've gotten it stitched up—sort of—so it shouldn't even leave a scar! Just give it a few weeks and I bet it'll be back to normal!"
The kick he takes to the gut makes him suspect that perhaps she was capable of walking this entire time, but he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. "That hurts," he whimpers.
"Get out!" she screams, sticking her hand in a tiny puddle of blood. She doesn't even seem to notice.
At first, Percy wants to protest because she is clearly in no shape to be left alone, but he's tired of this. She can handle herself if he steps outside for a little while. Yeah, a walk is just what he needs to clear his head. The stitches should last long enough for him to do that unless she goes completely off the rails and pulls them out.
He'll make this quick.
***
There are a lot of different kinds of pretzels a sad guy can buy for himself in Munich. You can't just ask a person for a pretzel because they'll ask if you want a sesame seed pretzel, extra salt, honey, sourdough, or a bunch of options Percy's never even heard of. Sweet pretzels shouldn't be a thing. Pretzels are supposed to be savory.
The curiosity gets the best of him though, so he buys a chocolate chip pretzel and insists that no, he doesn't look like he needs a drink. He'll cope with his issues using sugar.
Well, that's just what Percy says. There's a time and a place to get into why he doesn't drink, and this hardly qualifies. Besides, he's pretty sure the only reason why the guy at the restaurant tried to force beer on him was the language barrier. What American doesn't go to Germany and get shit-faced?
Percy Jackson, that's who. He's seen what alcohol can do to people, and he wants no part of that. Gods, the idea of being so drunk all the time that you start treating the people you love like absolute trash is terrifying.
He takes a bite of his pretzel. Holy shit, that is amazing. Who gave food the right to be this good? He's going to need to buy a lot of these to bring home to his mom. Hell, Annabeth should try these too. Maybe that'll make her feel better.
Or maybe they won't make her feel better. She seemed pretty gone back in the hotel. He'd love to help her find some peace of mind, but he's not exactly sure what he can do. What is it that Will Solace has that he doesn't?
For a brief minute, Percy considers sending Will a text, but he's not so sure Will would be willing to share Annabeth's issues. There has to be more to it than an injury to the face. Granted, Percy would also be upset if he took a hit like that, but he knows Annabeth well enough to know that she could have taken that dog on herself.
Speaking of...
He does a quick Google search on his phone for GREEK MYTHOLOGY DOG.
And then when the only thing that shows up is Cerberus, he tries GREEK MYTHOLOGY DOG NOT CERBERUS.
Of course, Google doesn't completely understand that he wants less of Hades's Underworld pet, so he goes to the second page of Google search results. For Percy, that's pretty much the dark web.
And then a Wikipedia result catches his eye. "Bingo," he mutters, seeing that the picture is a perfect match. Lealaps was a Greek mythological dog—mythological, his ass—that never failed to catch whatever it hunted. The dog was passed down from Percy's favorite asshole god Zeus to Europa, to King Minos, and then to an Athenian Princess named Procris. That story has about as much crossover to it as the That's So Suite Life of Hannah Montana Disney Channel special that Percy had on DVD as a kid. He swears it's because he likes Zack and Cody, and maybe Hannah Montana's dad was kind of cool too. The mullet song at the end of the episode made him laugh.
Anyways, Laelaps was eventually sent to hunt the Teumessian fox, an animal that—plot twist—was impossible to catch. This created a paradox because if the dog destined to never miss a target wins, then there would be no such thing as a fox destined to never be caught. Alternatively, if the never-to-be-caught fox escapes the dog, then is there such a thing as a hunting dog that never misses its target?
The whole thing makes Percy's head hurt so much, that he actually can get on board with what Zeus did. Apparently, his brain hurt as much as Percy's trying to figure out the complexity, so he cast Laelaps and the Teumessian fox into the sky, and they became the Canis Major and the Canis Minor, which is sort of funny because that's Latin for "Big Dog" and "Little Dog." Percy can't say he wouldn't be a little upset if he were a fox immortalized as a dog.
Maybe he'll tell Annabeth about this if she asks. Percy doesn't want to risk setting her off, especially if being alone has been good for her. Besides, the dog is dead now, and it never really was the real thing, hence the stained pantlegs of Percy's jeans.
Although, if Pothos is managing to replicate the specific powers of the monsters he's magically cloning, that could be a really bad thing, right? So he should probably find a way to bring it up with Annabeth.
Or maybe he can call Nico! Nico would be a good person to talk to, and Nico loves dogs, so he can avoid talking to Annabeth altogether and get some expert advice!
And then what? Never bring it up to her because he's afraid of how she might react? The old Annabeth would want him to bring it up, and then she'd probably analyze the situation until he begged her to let him go to sleep.
The new Annabeth is tough as nails, but she's also a wild card.
He puts his phone away, and for the first time, notices the statue he's using as a bench.
The plaque reads NEPTUNBRUNNEN and based on the trident in the mostly naked guy's hand, Percy can confidently say that yes, this is the German depiction of his father Poseidon, although it looks like they might be using his Roman name, Neptune.
So Percy was right when he figured he was due for some luck; it's just not coming in the way he expected.
He hasn't heard from his father in ten years or so, although Percy's not convinced that he wasn't given a sign in the pool at the New Rome Resort, so praying definitely can't hurt right now.
"Hey, Dad." He must look insane right now, talking out loud to someone who isn't physically there. "Uh, so I don't know how much I have to catch you up on, but I'm having a rough time on this quest right now; Annabeth and I are completely in the dark, and we can't..." Maybe he should get in the fountain. He always feels closest to his father when he's sitting at the bottom of the Camp Half-Blood canoe lake.
He unties his sneaker and sets it on the ledge of the fountain, and then peels off his nasty sock. Then, he reaches for the other shoe, and-
"Percy Jackson, what are you doing? The sea doesn't like to be tamed, sure, but this is unhinged, son!"
"Dad? Oh, gods, Dad..." Percy says through a cringed smile.
Poseidon is wearing lederhosen and drinking beer out of a glass mug like some kind of German stereotype.
"Beer?" Poseidon offers the glass.
Percy backs away, tripping over his shoe slightly. "Oh, uh, I'm alright. I don't really drink..."
Poseidon shrugs. "Suit yourself."
Percy clears his throat. "So uh, what brings you to Munich?"
He raises an eyebrow. "I was on vacation and then you started talking nonsense to me about your girlfriend and a quest."
"Dad, she's not my girlfriend!" Percy says, suddenly feeling like a fourteen-year-old getting teased at the dinner table.
"You're on a quest."
"Well, yeah."
"Just the two of you."
"Grover wasn't exactly available to chaperone." Not that Grover would want to chaperone this hot mess of a quest.
"And you're sharing a bed?"
Percy groans. "I slept on the floor the first night."
Poseidon drops the subject, but something tells Percy he isn't buying it. He should though! Nothing is going on between him and Annabeth. Well, now that he thinks of it...
"We're actually in a weird spot. She was hurt by a clone of the hunting dog Laelaps and sort of lost it in the hotel when I tried to stitch her face," Percy explains. "We should be planning the next phase of the quest, and I'd do that without her so she can recover, except she's the one who had the dream about us having to go to Prague."
"I see," he says, scratching his beard.
"Yeah," Percy says. "Some of the stuff she was saying made me think that she might be dealing with something bigger than the quest, but how can I know if she won't talk to me? She's not taking anything seriously!"
"Remember that you used to cope with your issues with humor, son," Poseidon says.
"So I'm right!" Percy declares victoriously. "There is something more to her! Dad, you have to help me!"
Poseidon stares up at the statue and then looks down at Percy. "I can't help you with your girlfriend-"
"Not my girlfriend."
"Whatever. I can't help you there."
That... makes sense. "Can you help with the quest at least? Have the gods gotten word of what Pothos is up to?"
Poseidon sighs. "The Erotes are... well, one of a kind. That's for sure. They're not exactly known for being transparent."
"They?" Percy asks. "Like, as in more than one?"
"Where one is involved, it's safe to assume the others are close to follow. What Pothos wants, I couldn't tell you. The Erotes have never desired world domination or revenge; they only work for themselves. Your friend Pothos might have a motive, or he might be having fun leading you two on."
"So," says Percy, "this quest isn't important? 'Cause I thought the monsters were a concern."
"You could say so," he says. "You could go home and let some kids from Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter take this quest. They don't have a personal stake and they can probably avoid going with their not-girlfriends."
"She's not my girlfriend," Percy interjects.
"That's what I said."
He groans internally again. This is more frustrating than the time his mom tried to walk to Montauk. "It was the way you said it. You know what? Nevermind. Do you think letting this quest go to campers is the best thing to do? We've both almost been killed."
Poseidon purses his lips. "It seems like you have a lot going on in that head of yours. Have you tried unpacking this with your therapist?"
Shoot. Percy forgot to cancel the session he was supposed to have with his therapist Cletus today. If his secretary calls the landline and his mom picks up, she'll find out about the whole therapy thing. Is it too much to think that Will might pick up and choose not to say anything?
"I'll talk to Annabeth and see what she thinks. It should be her call," Percy says. It's true. If Annabeth doesn't think she can handle this, she shouldn't have to. She could go back home and pick up some shifts at Hooters, or maybe Percy can convince her to work at like, Applebees or something. Or maybe Buffalo Wild Wings. She loves wings.
"Well, I suppose I'll leave this with you, then." Poseidon pulls a jar out of his fanny pack and whispers to the starfish inside, "You better be good or so help me Hades I will rip all your limbs off and you won't be able to move around while you regenerate."
"Dad, don't threaten that poor starfish!" Percy scolds.
"Zebediah is... What is it you mortals say?" Poseidon asks. "Oh, yes. Zebediah is an asshole."
"The starfish's name is Zebediah?" Percy asks. Does it have a little Amish beard and suspenders too?
"Yes. Zebediah will guide you."
Percy tales the jar and looks inside at the little peach starfish. One of its arms is shorter than the others, which means it must have lost an arm at some point in its life.
Poseidon finishes off his beer and then says, "I suppose you'd better be getting back to the hotel; I hear the bedding is great for snuggling with not-girlfriends."
"Dad!"
Poseidon steps into the fountain—sandals and all—and waves goodbye. As he fades into a watery mist, he says, "And Percy?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
He rematerializes. "Don't be too hard on Athena's daughter, okay?"
"Okay."
Poseidon vaporizes into a graceful mist again, but then his eyes snap open and he rematerializes. "And Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell Sally hello for me."
"Okay."
Once again, Poseidon begins to disappear, the water droplets sending a graceful mist across Percy's face.
...And then he comes right back. "And Percy?"
He sighs. "Yeah, Dad?"
"You tell your girlfriend that Hades and company are giving that guy hell down there."
"I'm sorry, what?"
But of course, the one time he wants Poseidon to come back, he fades away into a dramatic mist.
Percy bends over and slips his sock back on. "She's not my girlfriend," he mutters.