AN: This takes place after HoO, around senior year, but I may be treating the "canon" timeline and events loosely (especially as the timeline is confusing in all the series, anyway). So, please allow me the liberty of possibly ignoring certain events or tweaking things to my preference.

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The glow of the TV light was the first thing Paul noticed from the kitchen. He'd come out for water, even though the clock read 3:16am. The TV was so low it was almost muted, a basketball game—not live, obviously. Something old.

Percy was crashed out along the couch, mostly in darkness, but the flickering images on the screen brightened to show that he wasn't asleep. Whether or not he'd heard Paul come in, he showed no indication.

Paul hesitated a long moment. And then another. This wasn't the first time he or Sally had noticed Percy up in the middle of the night. It would've been one thing if he'd been finishing a school paper, talking on the phone, or even sneaking out. That was normal stuff, stuff from Paul's teenage days.

But Percy's life was something unfamiliar. When he'd first come into Paul's life, there'd been something different there. Not just the usual delinquency and getting into trouble, but deeper. Like there were pieces that Paul was missing, and might never know. So when the entire truth came out, it had felt more like a puzzle finally fitting together than anything else.

And then Percy had been gone for months and returned and he was quieter and more serious and had seemed to age an incongruous amount in an unlikely span of time. He'd given them a very brief summary of what had happened, but had obviously withheld about 90%, and Paul wouldn't have known what to ask, anyway.

In the daytime, things were mostly normal. He was usually at school or out with friends, anyway. Nights were different. More and more, there would be a light on under his door, or they'd hear his footsteps in the early hours of the morning. Paul had heard Sally try to bring it up with him, and had heard him brush her off.

Now, Paul stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Percy passively watch the screen. "Pretty late," he said finally, voice quiet.

Percy barely moved; his eyes flicked to Paul before going back to the TV. "Yeah."

It was a tricky position, being a stepparent. Especially to a teenager—especially this teenager.

It resulted in a delicate balance; technically Paul was the adult, but he had sensed a mile off that the second he started to throw around a role of authority, he would lose any hope of having a chance with Percy. And, by extension, with Sally.

She had made it crystal clear from the start. I have a kid. A boy. A teenage boy. His father's not around, and he's been through it. I don't think he's going to like you.

And more—that Percy was her world. That she'd put him through hell with a different stepdad. That he got into trouble a lot, but he was an amazing, good-hearted kid. And that they needed to take things slow, because—it was clear—Percy came first.

And Paul had been game. He had nodded and then talked about the high schoolers he'd worked with, all the different needs he learned to meet, all the different backgrounds his students came from. "The thing about teenagers," he'd mused, "is that we all fail them. We expect them to act like adults, and yet we treat them like kids. Very seldom do we just…listen."

And so that was the role he tried to take on. A backseat to Sally, someone who was there if needed. It wasn't always simple, but there were no guidebooks for this.

The TV ran through a commercial, then another. Paul tried once more. "School tomorrow."

"Uh huh." Percy's gaze didn't waver.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Percy's eyes moved to Paul's. "No."

His voice was resolute, the subject closed. Percy went back to the screen.

Paul considered for a long moment; he could hear Sally softly turning over in bed, sighing in her sleep. His alarm would sound in just a couple of hours. He scratched his neck, listening to the refrigerator hum to life. And then he went and sat down in the plaid armchair by the couch, settling in to watch the re-run of the game in silence.

…

"Do you know where Percy is?" Sally set down her bag, looking tired. "It'd be nice to know if he'll be here for dinner."

Paul looked up from grading papers. "Out with some friends. He didn't say when he'd be back."

Sally sighed. "I wish he'd actually use that cell phone we got him. But there's only so much we can do."

The evening passed as they both worked and made dinner and then ate dinner. As Paul was wiping down the counters, the phone rang.

"Hello, sweetheart…" He heard Sally say from across the room. "Oh, no…I actually thought he might be with you?"

Paul heard the familiar undernote of worry in Sally's voice; a faint strain, but present. He finished with the counters as the conversation ended. "Well, he's been out for a few hours, now…would you have him call me, if you see him? Thank you, sweetheart, have a good evening."

Sally saw Paul's questioning eyebrow. "Annabeth." She sat at the table and took out her research books. "I suppose he's out with other friends. I just—" A line appeared between her brows. "I wish I knew when it was normal teenage stuff, and when it was…Greek stuff."

Paul easily translated this: I wish I knew when to worry.

He stood behind Sally and squeezed her shoulders. "It's early still, and all teenagers stay out late. All teenagers worry their mothers. It doesn't mean it's like last time."

Sally closed her eyes, putting her hand on top of his and breathing deeply. "It isn't getting any easier, you know?"

Paul kissed her hair. "I know. I'm not sure it was ever meant to be."

She squeezed his hand, and the evening passed.

…

It was 1:04am when the front door creaked slowly open, and the shuffling of someone coming in could be heard.

Paul had been in a light sleep, Sally sitting up beside him, reading by dim lamplight. Now he had one eye open as Sally eased out of bed and out into the main room, leaving the door partway open.

"…was seriously concerned, I didn't know whether something had happened…" Their voices filtered through, quiet enough that he couldn't catch it all. "Well, you need to call me if you're going to…yes, I realize that, but…"

Percy's answering voice was low; all that came through was, "…clearing my head, not that big a deal…"

"…asked her to tell you to call…"

"I wasn't with her, so…"

Their voices went on, but the words were hard to make out. Finally there were more footsteps, and the faint thud of a door closing. Sally did not return to bed.

At last, Paul got up and put on a robe. He found Sally on the couch, her head in her hands.

He sat wordlessly beside her, rubbing her back. After a minute he asked, "anything bad?"

She shook her head. "Nothing dangerous. At least that's what he said. He looked okay. Just…unhappy."

They sat there for a long time. When finally Paul suggested returning to bed, it was like Sally didn't hear him. She took a deep breath. "He apologized for staying out, but—that's not what matters. He—he's not—" She swallowed, staring at the wall. "Okay. Yes. Let's go to bed."

"Sally."

She stood, rubbing her arms. "I'll try to talk to him again tomorrow. Nothing is going to get solved tonight."

And so, somewhat reluctantly, he followed her back to bed.

…

But the next day was just as fruitless, as were the days following. Though Percy was thoughtful and present in some ways—unloading the dishwasher, asking about their work—and at times seemed upbeat, even normal, there was always something else there. An edge. A wall that kept appearing, wherein he became stolid and indifferent, deflecting questions.

Certain words floated through Paul's mind, but he never voiced them. Words like war, like trauma, like ptsd, and grief, and healing, and time. But he didn't know what he was talking about. Percy had a foot in a separate world. Paul had never known violence or death or suffering, not really. At a much older age, he couldn't relate, and he didn't know what had, and hadn't, happened.

And so he continued to make dinner, and to grade papers, and to watch the evening news. He went on walks with Sally in central park, to plays and readings and lectures. And he paid attention. And he was there.

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The next chapter will be from Percy's POV. While this story may have a serious-ish tone, there will be more lighthearted moments, too. And you'll be seeing other characters.

Please, please tell me what you think, and if you're interested in this. Sometimes it's hard to know! Thanks for reading xo.