Author: thecivilunrest

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Story Title: "Fathom into Constellations"

Summary: He sees the outline of a girl in the sky, and he can't help but feel like he helped put her there.

Character/Relationship(s): Percy Jackson/Zoë Nightshade, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Zoë Nightshade/Hercules, Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque

Rating: K+

Warning(s): Mentions of death.

Story Word Count: 1100+

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.

Notes: I don't even know anymore, honestly. I kind of have this headcanon that while Percy was 'lost' he got only bits and pieces of Annabeth before he knew the whole picture, and that might help you out with the beginning of this fic. And um, yeah. I still don't even know. If you don't understand something, just leave a review or PM me and I'll try to explain as best I can.

My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.

-John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Fathom Into Constellations

The only thing to do at night is to look at the sky. He has nothing to dream about-dreams are made up of memories fused with fiction, and the only memory that he has is the tattered, much loved mental image of a girl. She has blonde hair and grey eyes and the name Annabeth, but that's all he knows about her.

There's only so much of that he can take, so he eventually takes to gazing at the stars.

All of the images there are familiar, but not forcefully. He can see the outlines of what he wants to see, and the names come to him eventually. Orion. Andromeda. Perseus. Hercules. The memories that he's getting aren't personal-more like they've been drilled into him because he has memorized them. Sometimes he thinks he remember Annabeth being with him, the warmth of her shoulder underneath a blanket as she sits with him, pointing them out. He's probably imagining it.

One constellation in particular stands out to him. As far as he can tell, because it's not like constellations are exactly connect-the-dots, it's supposed to be the outline of a girl running with a bow. Even though he knows that much, and he knows that it's important to him, he can't think of the name. He automatically grips Riptide when he looks at her, and he wonders if that means something.

She looks a bit like Orion, so he calls her Huntress in his head when he looks at her. Sometimes he even thinks that she's helping him on his way, protecting him from the things that are hunting him. And he's grateful.

.x.

Zoë Nightshade does not like Percy Jackson.

She's known heroes. They are arrogant, they are cruel. They use people-girls and women especially-in whatever way that they can. Every hero that Zoë has ever met has been like that, without fail. She has no patience for men, and heroes even less so.

But here he is, on this quest, and she must respect that the fates wanted him to come. And she kind of hates them for that.

"I'm sorry about Percy," Thalia apologizes. Zoë's surprised that the girl has the humility to apologize. She never would have guessed that about Thalia, but the longer they spend together the more her opinion of the girl changes.

She would have been a good Hunter.

"He's just... trying. He wants to find Annabeth and save Artemis as much as the rest of us do. He's a good guy."

Zoë looks over across the fire, at Percy Jackson talking with Grover. He doesn't look like any hero that Zoë's ever met, but looks can be deceiving. Percy's hair is messy, one of his top teeth crooked, and when he smiles his whole face lights up slowly. Not that she's seen much of that-Percy seems too worried for Annabeth, which is the whole reason that he's on this trip, she knows. It's not about Artemis, for him.

"We'll see," Zoë says before she looks away.

.x.

For some reason, Reyna seems familiar to him. It's not her dark hair, not exactly, but that might have something to do with it.

He knows that Reyna is not like Annabeth. He finally remembers everything with Annabeth, and he knows that he loves her, and that she is not Reyna.

Reyna is cool, composed, almost regal. To him, that's not Annabeth. To Percy, Annabeth is ink smeared on her cheek and Wise Girl, and four years of his life.

No, Reyna reminds him of someone different.

He just doesn't know who.

.x.

It's hard to believe, but Percy Jackson has grown on her. She thinks the phrase-she heard Thalia use it, so she knows that she's not just making it up-is stupid. But it's true. He's grown on her, like a weed slowly taking over a garden. (Not that any weeds would dare choke her childhood garden, of course.)

Percy is funny. He's kind. He is fierce, almost as fierce as any Hunter. He may not seem like much at first glance, but underneath it all Percy is good.

Percy is what every hero should strive to be.

She finds herself wondering what would have happened if it had been Percy that had come to the garden, instead of Hercules.

The only thing that she knows for sure is this: she wouldn't have become a Hunter.

.x.

Percy, Frank, and Hazel are just staring up at the sky. This reminds Percy of back when he was lost. Or at least, less found. He still feels lost, sometimes.

But not when he looks at the sky. Frank actually knows a lot of the constellations, like Percy he learned them from memorization. Unlike Percy, however, he seems to know all of them, not just a select few.

"Do you know that one?" Percy asks, pointing to Huntress. He wants to make sure that it's an actual constellation, not just something that he made up because he was so lonely. But Huntress just seems so clear to him. When he looks up at her, it's almost like he was there when she was created. He knows that she's there, the same way Frank knows the Little Dipper.

Frank looks up into the sky and squints. To those with unpracticed eyes the stars look like a hopeless jumble. "That one's actually kind of new. I think. But is it the girl running?"

Percy nods. "Yeah, I think that's supposed to be a hunter or something," Frank continues, "or maybe something about Nightshade? I don't know, exactly."

Thankful for the confirmation, Percy nods again before going to sleep. He's just glad that he was right.

.x.

Zoë's glad that Percy Jackson, and Artemis, is with her when she dies.

"We could have been sisters," she tells Thalia regretfully, because she truly loves the girl now. Thalia refuses to cry, instead blinking hard. Zoë can hear the girl say something else, but she hardly hears her now.

Instead she is focusing on Percy Jackson. She wants the sword, the sword that she made, the sword that he now carries. She's glad that someone that is worthy is finally carrying it. That sword will be the one way that she will linger in this world, and she's glad it's with Percy.

"You spoke the truth, Percy Jackson," Zoë whispers. "You are nothing like... like Hercules." It's the truth, and the highest compliment that she could have ever given him.

The last thing that Zoë sees of this world is Percy's face, and then the stars. The beautiful, beautiful stars. She hopes that she joins them.