Hey guys, school just started for me and it's my final year of highschool, so I'm probably gonna be focusing on that more than this. So please don't expect me to update too often from now on, 'cause it's a really important and busy year for me.
Well anyway, I based Percy's reaction and feelings loosely on my own before and during panic attacks, and the technique to calming down is actually one I use myself. It's really helpful, so if ever anyone-or yourself-is ever suffering from a panic attack, this method works for me, so you could always keep that in mind.
Anywho, that's all :3 Hope y'all enjoy.
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Percy had barely slept all night.
He had tossed and turned constantly, throwing the way too many pillows and blankets all around the huge room, never once caring that they were strewn haphazardly along the floor.
The times he had managed to go under was few and far between, and he had always surfaced again quickly, never falling asleep fully.
His mind was plagued by bone chilling threats and faces of the past.
Faces begging and pleading. Insulting and blackmailing. Bargaining and persuading.
And all of them wanting the same thing:
To live.
The feeling of cold fingers imprinted on his neck never faded, even as the night stretched out.
Or maybe it was his own imagination haunting him.
Among other things, of course.
But everything was... was wrong.
The bed too soft. The room too silent. His thoughts too loud.
He bolted upright with an almost animalistic snarl of frustration, raking his fingers through his hair and tugging at the dark strands roughly, feeling almost relieved at the sharp pain the simple action brought him. He bared his teeth and scrubbed at his eyes, taking no need to be careful. Everything was too much. The silence was killing him.
The silence was too loud.
He swung his legs off of the bed and stood up, feeling all too hot and claustrophobic. He could hear the blood roaring through his ears, as loud and constant as a rushing river. It was deafening. Almost overpowering the voices in his head. Almost.
Screaming. Crying. Begging.
He held his head in his hands, wanting nothing more but to rip his own ears off. Anything to make them stop.
I know who you really are.
'No, she doesn't. She doesn't!'
I know who you are and I know what you are.
'No no no no no please, please stop.'
I will be coming for you.
'I've changed!'
Maelstrom.
His legs trembled beneath him and he dropped to the ground without any warning, his limbs unable to take his weight any longer. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, almost choking on his panicked gasps, his chest tightening and his throat closing up.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't breathe.
He brought his knees up to his chest and he pressed his palms against his closed eyes, sob like sounds coming from his mouth now.
'I'm-I'm not him anymore! I'm not him!'
It was too much.
Everything was too much.
Everything was too much.
Everything was too much.
"Stop..." He whispered, his wheezing voice echoing around the room more than it should have. Or was that just in his head? He couldn't tell anymore.
He could only tell that he couldn't breathe.
His hands dropped at his sides again and he opened his eyes, realizing with a start that he was having another panic attack. What did he-he couldn't remember what to do. What should he do?
His eyes darted around the room frantically, searching. They landed on a deep purple pillow laying on the floor.
He remembered.
One.
His gaze shifted, landing on the beautiful mahogany dressing table.
Two.
The next item he saw was his bag, a comforting sight for sure.
Three.
He saw a tall grey candle resting on the bedside table by itself.
Four.
He tilted his head slightly to look up, seeing the dark grey material of the canopy over the bed.
Five.
His mind no longer felt as cloudy and clustered, his screaming thoughts slowly starting to die down. He reached out a shaking hand, slowly brushing his fingers over the soft carpeted floor of the room, feeling its gentle touch against his fingertips.
One.
He moved his other hand out to the side, feeling the cool, smooth bedframe that he was leaning on.
Two.
He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling too dizzy and lightheaded for his liking. He touched his hand against the fabric of his pants, the texture unpleasant and coarse, but not painful.
Three.
He grabbed ahold of his hoodie's string, twining it around his fingers and moving his thumb along the length of it slowly.
Four.
He kept his hand in place and his eyes shut, instead focusing on the things he could hear. He gritted his teeth at the overbearing silence, his attack worsening slightly.
'No, don't think. Just listen.'
So he did.
The first thing he could hear was the far too quick sound of his beating heart. Like a ticking clock. Too fast to be normal, still steady. Relentless. Soothing.
One.
The second thing that came to his ears was his blood. He could hear it pulsing past his ears. A sound that absolutely drove him crazy, but a sound nonetheless.
Two.
He focused intently on the third thing he could hear in the silence of the room. For a while he couldn't hear anything else, tearing a slightly distraught whine from his lips. Oh.
His voice.
He could hear his own voice. Of course.
Three.
He let out a shaky breath, his chest still hitching and his hands still trembling, but the attack was clearly starting to recede. He inhaled deeply, not caring that every breath he took was far too jerky and loud. Was that... Lavender? Yes. Yes, he could smell lavender. It was faint, but it was definitely there.
One.
He inhaled again, this time getting his own scent. The comforting smell of himself, most likely coming from his clothes.
Two.
He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, the voices in his head seeming to have died out and his heart rate almost back to normal. He ran his tongue around his mouth slowly, trying to get something. Oh, there it is. The slight taste of the overly bitter painkiller he had taken before he had gotten into bed was still on his taste buds.
One.
He sucked in a relieved breath, the tremor in it much less pronounced now. His heart had slowed down until it was just barely quicker than usual. His mind felt clear again and the voices were gone. The voices were gone, thank god. He ran his fingers through his hair again, ignoring how his hands shook with the after effect, as if he had too much adrenaline in his system. That was the first panic attack he had had in a long time. In fact, it was one of the worse ones as well.
He got to his feet, forcing his joints to lock as he stood there so that they didn't collapse beneath him again. He hated how his legs felt like jelly, as if he had just run three marathons without stopping, shaking and weak from exertion. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he practically had to stagger to make it to the bathroom, leaning heavily against the wall and fumbling around in his effort to find the light switch without looking. He winced at the harsh light that popped on.
God, it was too bright. Way too bright.
He suffered through it in silence however, and made his way over to the pristine marble sink. A tired and grimacing face stared back at him from the large mirror, dark bags hanging heavily under his eyes. His gaze flickered downwards and he swallowed thickly, immediately noticing the dark bruises that stretched around his neck, the shapes of fingers far too recognizable and visible for his liking. He hurriedly turned the tap on and scooped up a handful of water, throwing it on his face and rubbing his palms against his eyes. The cold water dripped from his cheeks and dripped down his neck. He didn't care about his clothes getting wet. After all, he could just dry it again whenever he wanted. And besides, the coldness of the water sent a soothing feeling running through him and a sigh of relief from his lips. The markings slowly disappeared before his very eyes, fading away to leave nothing but a clear canvas of tanned skin around his neck once more.
One less problem to worry about then.
He rubbed his face again, feeling his heart finally settle. He left the bathroom not long after that, debating whether or not he should take his backpack with him outside. On one hand, it might be a cause for suspicion, but on the other hand, what if he needed to make a break for it? He wouldn't be able to come back for it.
He pursed his lips, deciding to leave it. Just in case. He opened the door, peering down each end of the hallway. Both were empty, and there were no sounds coming from either direction. What was the time anyway? He hadn't bothered to check beforehand, and there were no windows in his room to look at the sky for an estimation. Oh well.
He started walking in the direction he guessed would take him further into the palace, based on where he had been led the previous night. The area was so quiet and still that even his light as a feather footsteps echoed loudly around him, and he fought the urge to make his footsteps silent to match it. He didn't like being so loud in comparison. It seemed too... Unprofessional.
He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. 'Oh shut up, it's not like I still do missions.' He berated himself mentally.
He came to a stop, uncertainty creeping up into him. The hallway turned off into two different directions now and he had no idea where to go.
The sound of a door opening and closing gently, and vaguely familiar sounding footsteps entered his ears. The person he couldn't quite identify just yet approached him. "Lost already?" Ah, Steve.
Percy pretended to startle and turned around, pulling a sheepish smile onto his face. "Ah-Sorry, I just..." He gestured around jerkily, as if embarrassed. "I didn't... Hear you coming."
Steve only smiled at him though, amusement glinting in crystal clear eyes. "Don't worry about it. I've been told I'm a little too quiet sometimes." He chuckled softly. "Anyway, I can take you to get some food if you'd like?" He said, raising the end of his sentence and making it seem more like a question than a suggestion.
"Oh uh... Sure, sure." He was stumbling over his words. He knew it. Steve only nodded and started walking, leading him down the left hallway. He could feel his face burn and he only hoped that he didn't look too flushed. God he's an idiot. Why the hell was he speaking like a schoolboy with a crush?
Him. Percy Jackson. One of the best assassins in his past. A superhuman. Someone who always knew what to say was feeling slightly tongue tied.
Then again, how could he not?
He grew up in a time with Captain America defending their country and protecting their people. The star spangled man with a plan there in the front lines, defeating the bad guys and pushing back the Nazi's. The very first Avenger.
And when he had been younger, his hero.
Wait... How did he remember all of this? He wasn't sure where this knowledge had come from, but it was suddenly in his mind. Like he had always known it, even if he definitely hadn't.
Being a kid with powers he didn't quite understand, how could he not idolise the super soldier? How could he not want to be him when he grew up, how could he not feel starstruck every time he was mentioned?
People say you shouldn't meet your heroes, and he understands why, he does. But after meeting Rogers... Well, how can you be disappointed with someone who puts trust in you and helps you when you didn't think anyone would? Of course he knew that his trust was likely misplaced-he would never forget what he used to be after all, but he still appreciated it. More so than he probably should, if he was being completely honest with himself.
Steve glanced over his shoulder momentarily to see if Percy was following him. The glimpse he caught of strikingly blue eyes sent his mind reeling with the almost overwhelming sense of familiarity.
A toothy grin stretched across his small face, one of his front teeth missing entirely. That didn't seem deter the ecstatic expression on his face though. "Mom, mom! Did you hear what Cap-Capta-ain Am-merica did, mom?" He asked, words colliding with each other in their rush to come out, his difficulty in pronouncing certain words audible in his haste. A kind, melodious laugh filled the air. One that was far from unfamiliar and brought a warm feeling to his chest. Then there was a face smiling down at him, rich brunette hair pulled back in a loose plait and a loving expression on her beautiful face.
"What did he do now, baby?" She asked, amusement twinkling in beautiful eyes.
With a few well placed, and wildly exaggerated kicks and punches aimed at invisible enemies, he danced around the room, telling the dramatic story of how Steve Rogers defeated a whole building of bad men with his team. One that he had just heard from one of his friends, Frank. Another huge fan of Captain America. "And-And then, hi-ya!" He paused in his pose, panting excitedly and his hand still sticking out after smacking an invisible enemy. "And he won the day!"
"Wow, very impressive!" He looked up at his mother, pride shining on his face at the compliment. "He must've been very brave."
Percy nodded fiercely, still beaming. "Yeah!" He agreed, puffing his chest out. "If I were there, I'd kick their butts!" He crowed.
"What, like this?" He looked over his shoulder just in time to be captured in a tight hug, squeals of laughter filling the room as Sally spun her son around the room, only stopping when the two of them got dizzy and were both grinning from ear to ear. She pulled him close to her and he clung onto her neck, burying his face into her hair. It smelt like... Like home. Like family. Like love.
"Mommy?" He asked, pulling his head back to be able to see her, green eyes blinking owlishly at her.
"Yes, sugar?" She replied gently, shifting him so that she was holding him with one arm. She used her free hand to wipe a rogue strand of dark hair out of his eyes and smoothen down his hair with her palm.
"Do you think-Do you think I could ever be a superhero like the Cap-Captain?" He spoke slowly now, only hesitating with his pronunciation for a moment.
Her smile only widened at that and she tilted her head forward to press their foreheads together, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "When you grow up, you're going to be the best superhero in the whole world, Percy. You're going to help a lot of people. I know it." Strikingly blue eyes stared into his own, portraying a whole range of soft emotions that he could barely identify, but still knew. Contentment. Affection. Fondness. Love. It left a warm feeling of happiness in his heart. "You're going to be the best hero the world has ever seen."
He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes threatening to overflow with tears and his mind shell shocked.
Mom.
His mom.
He remembered.
He forced his feet to start moving again, not knowing when he had stopped, but Steve wasn't too far ahead so he caught up again quickly. He raised a hand and wiped at his eyes, drying the tears up. It did nothing for the stinging feeling of wanting to cry forever though.
His mom. Sally. His mom.
He had been young at the time of the memory, he knew that. He wasn't sure how young though.
It still left a dull ache inside of him however. An almost empty feeling deep within his heart. A hole that could never be filled, no matter at he did.
Was remembering even worth the pain? Remembering the people that he had loved dearly, but had been ripped away from? Forced to forget every single thing about them?
"You're up pretty early, you know." He jolted out of his thoughts and wiped his eyes once more, hating how they had started tearing up again.
"Oh, really?" He asked, before clearing his voice at the almost hoarse sound that came along with it. "I didn't really look at the time."
"The only people awake are Sam and I." He said, leading him through the maze like building. Percy kept a mental note of which direction they were going though. Just in case, of course. "Force of habit, I suppose."
He nodded, before realizing that he was walking behind the supersoldier and he couldn't see him do that. "Makes sense." He added.
"You ever been in the military?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder once again.
Striking blue eyes.
Percy took that as a sign and picked his pace up to instead walk beside him rather than behind. "I have, yeah." He responded, not quite looking at him directly. It could be the wrong move to be truthful about that, but it could be worse if he lied more than he had to.
"How long?" His tone sounded curious. But he wouldn't be surprised if he had another motive to his line of questioning.
"Two tours." Now that wasn't particularly a lie, since he had actually been in two tours when he was younger. That hadn't been during the actual war-he had been far too young at that point to even consider joining, but even so, he had been in the army. Before Hydra. Back in a time when he used his powers for good whenever he could, and he didn't think he'd ever be apart of any bigger picture than simply protecting his country and preventing another war. Back when he was naive and all too hopeful. Hah. Now that really was a long time ago.
Percy felt a sliver of something akin to... Camaraderie? Solidarity? Fellowship? Blossom from within him. Both Steve and Sam knew what it felt like to be in a war zone. Both of them knew what it was to be a soldier. Both knew of the responsibilities.
"How long ago was this?"
"Only about a year ago."
"Ah, no wonder you’re up early then." He nodded, expression showing a sympathetic kind of understanding. The hallway finally opened up into a large room that appeared to be used as a dining area of some kind. A beautifully designed table took up most of the room, fine carvings decorating the legs and sides with murals of animals and environments that seemed to come more and more alive the longer he looked at it. "The kitchen is just behind here." He told him, taking him through another door, revealing an even larger room-this one with an array of cooking equipment, devices and people already milling around, despite it being in the early hours. "They’ll cook anything you ask for. And believe me when I say that they can make some of the best dishes." Percy’s sea green eyes trailed around slowly, taking everything in. This was... The biggest kitchen that he had ever seen in his life.
"Well?" He prompted, a hint of an amused smile visible at Percy’s expense. "Go ahead and order something."
"I don't…" He trailed off uncertainly. "I don't know what to ask for."
Steve only laughed. "Don't worry, I'll order for you then."
Barely half an hour later found him sitting next to his childhood hero at a way too big table, still hot waffles stacked on a plate in front of him and a cup of delicious smelling coffee practically begging him to drink it. If he was being honest, he could get used to this kind of thing.
He immediately discarded that dangerous thought however. He didn't belong here and he knew it.
He looked down at the food, the smell wafting through the air heavenly and mouthwatering. There was icing powder dusted over the top and syrup absolutely drowning them, just like how he had hesitantly asked them to do it. Just how he liked it. After all, he had grown up in a time where sugar and other products like that were rationalized. Having anything sweet was always a treat for him, no matter what it was.
"What are you waiting for?"
He glanced to his side, Steve's eyes crinkling as he smiled at him. He'd never realized that Captain America had such soft expressions when he wasn't fighting. Did he always smile this much, or was he just trying to make him feel more relaxed? He honestly couldn't tell at this point.
"Uhm... nothing, I guess." He said. Following Steve's lead, he started eating-albeit more hesitantly than the other supersoldier. He almost let out a moan at the taste that enveloped his tongue at the first bite, the sugary sweetness and the soft fluffiness of the waffle was to die for. Or to kill for, perhaps. That made his apprehension disappear immediately and he dug in.
By the time that he was halfway through his second one and he had already finished his coffee, Steve was already on his third, the only sounds being the clinking of cutlery against plates and the soft bustle coming from the open kitchen door. It was silent save for that, but it was a companionable silence, comforting and relaxing.
"I know that all of this is probably a huge shock for you." Percy paused in his chewing as Steve set down his knife and fork and gave him a sideways glance. "It’s not every day stuff like this happens."
"Well you’re right about that." He muttered, causing Steve to laugh for a few moments before becoming serious again, shifting in his seat to look at him full on. His eyebrows drew together slightly and his expression took on a more solemn look that made him want to squirm in his seat. As if he was incredibly disappointed.
"But still... I’m not going to ask you why Tony was after you, I’m not going to ask why he called you a murderer. I’m not going to demand answers from you." Percy swallowed thickly, finding himself unable to tear his gaze away, no matter how much he wanted to. "We all have things in our past that we’d rather keep buried. And so long as your secrets don’t endanger any of us, we’ll protect you like one of our own. You have my word."
Percy could feel a weird lump form in his throat, making it difficult to speak and swallow. "Thank you." He managed to get out, his voice quieter than he had thought it would be, barely above a whisper.
Steve’s eyes softened and he rested his hand on his shoulder gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’re safe here, Percy. You really are."
He looked down, skin feeling considerably colder when Steve removed his hand again. "Why?" He asked, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. "Why are you... trusting me? You don’t know me. You know nothing about me-"
"I know that you’re wary." Steve cut him off. Percy’s eyes flickered back up to his slowly. "You enter a room and look around like there could be enemies anywhere. When people make loud noises or sudden movements, you tense up like you’re about to be attacked. You walk too quietly, you hesitate before answering questions about yourself, and it's clear that you’ve been on the run. Probably for a long time." He could feel his heart come to a shuddering halt in his ribcage. How the hell- "I don’t who trained you or why, and I'm not going to pretend to know what you’ve been through. But I know that you’re scared. You're looking for a place where you can be safe, where you can be free."
Percy let out a long breath, blinking a few times. "How did you..."
"How did I know?" He finished for him, a sad smile curving at his lips. "I know someone who was in a situation like yours. I’m more intuitive than most people think, you know." They both fell silent at that, Percy lost in the thoughts swirling around his head.
"Natasha," He started off hesitantly, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie nervously. "She..."
"Natasha doesn’t trust anyone unless she knows them well." He explained gently. "She’ll warm up to you I’m sure."
"No, I mean..." He paused again, frowning deeply. His mind was conflicted. He wanted to tell Steve about his past. He really wanted to tell him, but... It would change everything. It might even ruin everything even more. But he should. "Steve, I-"
"Good morning, you two." Percy's hands tightened slightly at T'Challa's all too quiet entrance. It disturbed him at how easy it had been for him to sneak up on them. Percy forced a natural smile onto his face as T'Challa gave him a polite nod. "I hope everything was to your liking?"
"It definitely was, thank you."
"Well I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I need to talk with you, Steven. If you don't mind, of course."
Steve gave Percy an apologetic look as he stood up. "We can continue this later, yeah?"
"Yeah." Percy agreed, almost sighing. Maybe it just wasn't the right time to tell him anyway.
"In the meantime," T'Challa started, talking to Percy once again. "Feel free to explore the palace all you want. Or you could even wait for the others to wake up. It's your choice." With that, the two men left the room, neither of them talking to each other just yet. Most likely because they didn't want him to listen in on them.
His appetite effectively ruined, he pushed his plate away, the once delicious taste in his mouth long gone. Since Steve had left his plate there, he decided to as well. He stood up and pushed his chair back in, if only out of a long forgotten habit, then started walking.
What was he thinking? He had almost spilled everything, and why? Because Steve was just being... nice to him? Was that all it took nowadays? He could have smacked himself at his own stupidity. He could have messed everything up-even without the help of Natalia. Natasha. Whoever the hell she called herself, he didn't care. 'But telling him could have helped too.' The little voice in his head piped in. This time he didn't bother in trying to argue. He was just tired of not knowing what to do.
His footsteps faltered and he looked around slowly, realizing that he was completely lost. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with his hands, mentally berating himself for being too lost in his thoughts and not paying attention to his surroundings. What was happening with him lately? He was acting... differently. Even he knew it.
Taking a chance, he turned left down the next corridor, eyes raking around in hopes of finding a sign or something that would direct him. Very unlikely, but he could still hope.
No such luck. He was still completely and utterly lost after ten minutes of guessing which way to go. "Well this is just fantastic." He muttered to himself, walking in a random direction. "How the hell am I supposed to know where to…" His words ventured off slowly at the sight of an open door, a pale light shining through it and onto the floor and walls around it. "-go..." Maybe someone in there could help him find his way back?
He peeked around the corner, confusion flickering through him. It seemed to be a laboratory of some kind, the walls and floors all a pristine white colour and far too advanced looking lab equipment set up neatly all around the spacious room. He stepped inside hesitantly. No one was inside to stop him, so he continued his path through the room and towards the door on the other end. He opened it slowly, surprisingly finding it unlocked. Connected to the room was another large room, this one looking more like a tech room with multiple monitors and computers filling it, large screens stretching out across the walls. He glanced through them as he continued walking, his confusion only growing. A few of them showed feeds of empty pods of some kind, while others showed rooms he hadn't yet seen. Again, no one was in sight, not even on the screens.
Where was he? What was this place? And where was everyone else?
He opened another door as quietly as he could and stepped inside, this adjoining room looking more like a medical bay or nurse station. Beds were spread out in even rows, medical equipment and machines set in place next to each.
He immediately froze at the sight of someone sitting perched on the edge of one of the beds, brunette hair brushing his shoulders and his back towards him. He couldn't see his face from where he stood, but even if he could, it would probably be hidden by his hair with the way his head was bowed down slightly. He wasn't moving, save for the soft rise and fall of his chest that even he could see from behind.
His gaze scanned over the person slowly, taking everything in. The clean white clothes he wore, the drip in his right arm, the fact he had no left arm, the silver metal on his shoulder that peeked out from under the sleeve of his tank top-
Wait what?
The world stopped around him at the sudden realization, his breath hitching.
Was this...?
It couldn't be.
Could it?
"James?"
The man stiffened automatically and turned his head over his shoulder cautiously, deep blue eyes instantly widening and expression slackening in stunned recognition.
"Perseus?"