Okay, guys, I know I haven't updated in forever. But I am posting something, right? Yay...? Don't kill me.

By the way, I know this might seem like it's related to my other stories, but it isn't. You'll see.

Wow, this is long. Over 8,000 words long. I started working on this over the summer, on my iPod, so please excuse my many grammatical errors.

Enjoy, and I DO NOT OWN.

Gut Instincts

…

Annabeth Chase was watching the duel intently. Clarisse la Rue and one of her brothers, Tyler Brock, were having a sword match, and it seemed pretty equal. Both were jumping back and forth and lunging at the right times, but neither could get the final slash to their opponent. Neither could end the duel.

Lost in thought about who would win, she was surprised when a voice whispered in her ear, "Thinking about me, Wise Girl?"

Annabeth whirled around to see the face of Perseus Jackson. "No," she squeaked, blushing furiously. How did he always get her like that? Clearing her throat, she said, "I was predicting who would win this duel." She motioned to the sword fighting siblings. "Personally, I think Clarisse will win."

"Why is that?" Percy asked, watching the duel before them.

"Why? What do you mean, 'why?'" Annabeth turned to Percy, raising one eye brow. Was it not obvious?

"Why do you think Clarisse will win and not her brother?"

"Well," she began, "Clarisse has more experience; she has been training longer; and she actually is a good sword fighter." Annabeth turned back to the sword fighters. "She has every advantage."

"No, she doesn't," Percy countered. "Clarisse is more of a spear fighter. Tyler over there may be new, but it's obvious he's a natural with a sword. And even if Clarisse has been training here longer than Tyler, he has been here long enough to learn some tricks and kick up his endurance." He grinned triumphantly. "I think Tyler will win."

"I don't think so—" Annabeth began, but she was cut off by Percy.

"How much do ya wanna bet?" he challenged, staring her down.

"I'm not going to bet you, Percy." Annabeth rolled her eyes. He really was a seaweed brain.

"Fifty drachmas."

"You don't even have fifty drachmas," she told him pointedly.

"That's how positive I am that Tyler will win." Percy grinned slyly, like he had some sort of trick up his sleeve.

"No, Percy," Annabeth said. "I won't let you pay me fifty drachmas."

"Okay then, we'll make a deal. If you win, I don't have to pay you anything. But if I win, you have to pay me fifty drachmas."

"That isn't fair," Annabeth pouted, crossing her arms.

"But isn't it obvious that Clarisse will win?" Percy asked, cocking his head to the side, a smirk plastered on his face.

That was it. Somehow, someway, Percy had trapped Annabeth, forcing her to go through with the bet. There was no way out. Either go with it, or back out, like she was unsure and... scared.

"Fine," she grumbled.

For another five minutes, they watched the duel, Annabeth intently as Percy knowingly. She didn't understand how Percy could be so sure of himself, because with each passing minute, it seemed Clarisse was getting the upper hand, but there he was, smiling the whole time, like he could already feel the money in his palms.

There was a clang, and Annabeth focused back on the duel. Percy mumbled to her, "Get ready to give me some money. It's about to end."

Annabeth didn't know how he could tell, since there was only the simple, usual clang, but then Tyler sent his sword lower than usual and nicked Clarisse's leg. Clarisse yelped, and her guard went down; Tyler swooped in and whacked the blunt end of his sword on her head. She stumbled, and it was already over. Tyler went into full offense mode, and it wasn't long until Clarisse was on the ground.

Tyler Brock had won the sword fighting duel; Percy Jackson had won the bet.

Annabeth gawked at the two siblings as Clarisse glared at her brother for beating her in the fight. Getting up on her own, Clarisse stormed over to Percy. "Tell no one, Prissy," she growled at him.

He chuckled. "I won't tell anyone, Clarisse, but I don't think it's me you need to worry about." Percy glanced over at Tyler and then Annabeth, who was still as a statue from shock.

Clarisse snarled. "What do you mean—?"

Percy held his fingers to his lips. "Shhh..." He grinned.

Annabeth chose that moment to explode. "That's—that's impossible!" she screamed. "Clarisse had the advantages. All of them! And she was winning!" She froze again. "What happened?" Clarisse walked over to the Annabeth carefully. "Did you make a bet with Prissy?" she asked, her voice a mixture of soft and accusing.

Annabeth nodded. "Yes. We made a bet: I said you would win, and he said Tyler would." She turned to Percy. "You trained him." She pointed at Percy accusingly. "That's the only explanation."

"Or, what I said before was correct and Tyler is a natural. Besides," Percy added, "I've never even talked to the guy before."

"But—but... How did you know?" Annabeth asked curiously. There had to be some trick, right?

Percy shrugged. "Gut instincts." He walked through the door. "I'll pick up my money later," he shouted over his shoulder.

The next day, basically everybody in camp had heard of the previous day's events: Clarisse la Rue had lost a sword duel to her younger brother, Tyler Brock, and, more importantly, Annabeth Chase had lost a bet, to Perseus Jackson, who insisted he won because of gut instincts, not a trick.

(If only they knew, Percy thought as he went to his cabin after the camp fire that night.

If only they knew what he could do.)

…

Perseus Jackson had done the same thing he had done to Annabeth Chase several times before in his life. He had made bets, simple ones people were positive they would win, and placed a large amount of money over the situation if he knew they were incorrect.

Of course, he always knew.

If he had to be honest, Percy had often questioned to himself why nobody asked if he had the special ability many of his siblings had. It was truly an amazing thing, to do what he could. There were also many downsides, however, and that was why Percy didn't use his gift often.

But, sometimes, when he lost control, when information would seep into his mind from behind his barriers, he would use what he saw. Percy would do the bets he knew he would win and, after, would say that he won from gut instincts.

That was a particular lie, though.

If any other camper said this, it would be believable. Percy just couldn't pull off the gut instinct thing: He knew too much, too well; he was too cocky. But he couldn't help it! Knowing what he knew, so early, so easily...

No. Percy learned long ago not to abuse his ability, his gift, his curse. Like what Chiron said, knowing too much is bad, he knew first hand.

So, when people needed someone to look into the future or past or some place in the present, look at something that nobody else could, Percy went along with whoever he was with to whoever had the same ability/gift/curse he did. It always worked out in the end, and he never had to use his ability to see what others could not on purpose. He never had to tell anyone.

Percy liked it that way.

And Perseus Jackson wanted to keep it that way.

…

Rachel Elizabeth Dare spotted Percy by the docks. "Hey, Percy!" she called, waving her arm rapidly.

Percy glanced up and beamed. "Hey, RED!" he called back, motioning her over.

When she arrived at the docks, breathless, she plopped down. Immediately, though, she said, "I heard about the bet with Annabeth."

Percy soured a bit on the bet. "Why is everyone so obsessed about the bet?" he asked.

"Because she's never lost one before!" screeched Rachel. "Annabeth always wins bets," she elaborated, "because she can strategize and stuff like that. No one ever wins a bet against her. Well, until yesterday, I guess."

Percy groaned and flopped back on the grass. "If I had known that everyone was going to make such a big deal out of this, I wouldn't have done the bet in the first place."

Now, Rachel wasn't a satyr, but she could tell there was something else bothering Percy about the bet besides the 'big deal' everyone was making out of it. Maybe it was the friend part of her, or maybe the oracle part of her kicking in, she had no idea. Rachel had the sneaking suspicion, though, that it was the oracle part, but she didn't push and prod. Only time could tell.

"Hey, it's fine," she joked. "It's not like the whole camp will suddenly start making bets with you, just to see if you'll win." Rachel shook her flaming red hair back and forth.

Percy groaned.

"Wait, is that why you're here, because people are testing your betting skills?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Sort of," mumbled Percy.

There was a shout behind them as an archery class started. A naiad waved barely below the surface of the lake.

"What do you mean? Sort of? Is there more?" Okay, Rachel had told herself not to prod and poke at the issue, but it was so vague; there was more, she just knew it.

Percy's eyes wandered over to the archery class and then at the naiad as she made a small splash. "It's nothing," he said offhandedly. "But, I really want to be alone for a while, Rachel."

Rachel, offended, stood up and began to scold him, "Oh, I see. I come over here to try and help you feel better, then you go and tell me to leave. That's nice, Percy. Real nice. You know..." She trailed off when she noticed Percy's pale, worried face. "Percy, what's wrong?" she asked, but he didn't reply.

Instead, Percy kicked her stomach; Rachel fell back on her butt, the air escaping from her lungs. Percy then dove into the water and pulled the naiad to the left.

For a millisecond, Rachel sat silent, dumbstruck.

After that millisecond, an arrow came whizzing by where she was standing before, shooting into the water to where the naiad was floating before Percy pulled her away.

Rachel yelped, scooting back a foot. When her heart finally slowed its insane tap dance, Rachel looked up from her shaking knees to thank Percy. The naiad, too, wanted to thank the Son of the Sea God for saving her life. However, when both girls tried to find him, they only saw his form sprinting away.

Perseus Jackson was already gone.

…

Perseus Jackson had no idea what to do. Not many people had ever witnessed him when he had saved someone from unpredictable events, but Rachel was there and she was a curious girl. Surely Rachel would attempt to figure out how he knew to be at the lake at that time, to push her away, to move the naiad where he did.

First the bet, now this. People were growing curious, some even concerned, about Percy, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Things were falling from his grasp, slipping between his fingers. Percy's image was cracking, his act of unpredictable nature becoming flawed—because Percy did many of the things he did from insights no one knew about. The fortress of knowledge he kept to himself was tumbling down, and it seemed the bottom bricks were going first.

Percy knew he needed to stop—stop using his gift.

But that was the thing.

For some strange reason, the barrier that blocked the information of a lifetime in his brain was opening; a hole was growing, and more and more knowledge was traveling to Percy's conscious brain.

He was losing control.

And the things he saw... They couldn't be ignored. When someone would be injured, and he knew he could stop it, Percy felt it was his duty to save them the pain. Yes, it was risky to change the things he saw, for, to change the smallest of details could change a life, but it was Percy's fatal flaw. He couldn't leave anything be.

So, when he knew he could help a friend, a random person even, Percy did. It was just like that. It always had been.

And he liked when people would thank him, even if they didn't think they needed the extra hand, only to later learn they did. He liked when he erased a never-to-be scar. He liked being the little helper no one tended to think about, because it meant he could continue to use his ability, if only slightly, to help even more.

Too bad his acts of kindness might come to an end.

…

Chiron rolled the wheels of his magical wheelchair nervously. Today he holding a counselors meeting, and the tension in the air was unbreakable, even with the strongest of men and sharpest of swords. All eyes were focused on one counselor—Perseus Jackson.

The past days were... unusual for the camp heroes, and it seemed Percy was to blame. Truthfully, the meeting was supposed to be just a check up on each of the cabins, but, as it was proving to be, there was a change of plans.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the Oracle of Delphi, waltzed into the blue house. "Chiron," she said professionally, "before anything continues, I would like to ask a question."

Knowing full well who the question was about, Chiron eyed the Son of Poseidon. "If you must," he answered quietly.

Rachel turned on her heels, head held tall, and faced Percy. "How did you know to be at the lake to save the naiad?" she asked her one question. "And don't say because of a dream, because I know dreams don't show small things like that."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Okay, I wasn't going to say a dream anyways."

"Really?" squeaked Rachel. "Oh. Then, what were you going to say?"

"Gut instincts."

Silence. In every direction, silence lingered. It was even silent outside, where there was no screaming or weapons clanging or pattering feet. It seemed the silence enveloped the whole world in its emptiness. There was absolutely no sound whatsoever anywhere.

Until Annabeth blurted, "Gut instincts? Why is it always gut instincts? I think something else is up."

Percy cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Nothing else is up. I just follow my gut. It's what I've always done."

"Well," Rachel drawled, "even though I thought there was going to be a different answer, this still works." She poked her head out the Big House door, and then she reached out an arm and yanked in a surprised Grover Underwood.

"What do you want me to do?" he yelped helplessly.

Rachel sighed. "Grover, all I want you to do is look at Percy's face"—she turned him toward the slowly paling hero—"and tell us if he's lying or not. Also, if you can, could you please tell us what's really going through that brain of his?" Rachel said all of these instructions slowly, but Chiron could tell that Grover had had no idea what Rachel had wanted him for before.

"O-okay," stuttered Grover, and he turned to face Percy, brows furrowing as he searched the now paled face. "Percy, how did you know to save the naiad?" Grover asked, and Chiron watched as suddenly Percy's face became impassive, his color returning to normal.

Then it changed again, becoming all-too-serious, his left eyebrow raised. "Why do you want to know?"

Sighing, Grover went over to Percy's side. "Dude, I know you're hiding something. We all do. So, could you please just tell us what's up?"

Percy cocked his head to the side, and Chiron thought he saw a glint of smugness in the hero's eyes. "I could tell you...," Percy said, "... but I really don't want to. I mean, what's the point? I thought I was an open book, and if I have one measly little secret or quirk—so what? Doesn't everyone deserve at least one secret?"

Percy faced the whole group of beings before him. "Do you get where I'm coming from?" He placed a hand to his heart gently, and his face had contorted itself to look hurt and mistrusted.

Chiron didn't know how Perseus did it, but he did: Everyone suddenly wanted to let the matter go, even Rachel and Annabeth.

There were mumbles of agreement and nodding heads all around, and Percy smiled a sincere looking smile. Chiron found his own head moving; it made sense: Everyone did deserve a secret or two, and even more so for the nearly open book demigod.

Only Grover, Chiron noticed, was slightly wary, but eventually he nodded and mumbled his agreements.

"Children," called Chiron, "let us proceed with the reason we all gathered. Let us start with the Poseidon cabin..."

It was only later that Chiron wondered how Perseus Jackson knew the exact words to gain even a satyr's belief, since Perseus never was one to be good with words before.

…

Perseus Jackson paced the length of his cabin. That was too close, he thought over and over again as he went from one end to the other. In the end, the only thing that saved him was his ability, but Percy figured it wouldn't be long before he felt the need to fix something. And when he did that...

... there might not be anything to save him.

Everything would spin out of control—out of his control—and then...

And then what?

The reactions of his friends remained unknown to him. Would they be angry for keeping such a secret from them? For not using it? Would they be disappointed? Jealous, even?

Percy didn't know anything, and when he didn't know, the Fates had something planned for him.

Because even though he wasn't supposed to know anything that was directly connected to himself, sometimes he could catch a glimpse through others' futures. Sometimes, Percy could find out if he was going to go on a quest or get food poisoning from a certain food by peering into other people's brains, other people's futures. Knowing always calmed him, because that meant he could keep things the way he wanted it, keep his loved ones believing that Percy Jackson was who he said he was.

But now there was nothing, no insight whatsoever. Everything was blurry, and there was nothing for him to use as his little cheat sheet.

And that scared him. Perseus Jackson had a facade, and if that facade failed, everyone would hate him.

Because Percy Jackson wasn't who he pretended to be.

He sighed and slumped into his bed, hoping a dream really would tell him the future.

Maybe a dream would stop this spiral into insanity.

The next morning, he found himself exhausted and slightly depressed. Or haunted. Haunted worked.

Percy Jackson also felt haunted.

Because yes, oh yes, Percy had had dreams, but they were horrible. They were dreams filled with horror and death, and the burden of the information was killing him.

Perseus Jackson wouldn't last much longer.

…

Grover Underwood watched Perseus Jackson as he practically dragged his feet to his lonely table. The Son of Poseidon had dark black bags underneath his eyes; his posture was not one of a hero filled with confidence, but of a young, defeated child; and an aura of sadness radiated from him, screaming to keep away.

Basically, Percy looked like a total wreck.

Grover felt a pang shoot through his chest, but his suspicion still stood. The day before, when he was supposed to be reading his friend's emotions, Grover caught on to how Percy's eyes never made contact with his, and how most everything he said was in question form. Putting both of those together had confused the satyr, and he did not figure out what was going on with the hero.

But he was determined to figure Percy out, because there was something huge tucked in the mind of Perseus Jackson. Something unbelievable.

"Um, Chiron, I'm—I'm going to go sit with Percy today. He looks a little down." Grover turned to give Chiron a small wave and meek smile before dashing off before an answer could be given.

Trotting up to the table, Grover called, "Hey, man!"

Percy's eyes glanced up from his unusually unfilled plate for a flash, and then they were back down. "Hey, G-man," he said back, quite upbeat considering his disheveled state. "And, yeah, you can sit."

Grover sat down carefully. He weighed his options, taking each word, sentence, and phrase he wanted to say and weaving them together. Grover sucked in a deep breath of air, about to give his speech, when Percy stopped him with his melancholy eyes.

"Just get to the point," he said, eyes once again darting from Grover's.

"Tell me," Grover begged. "Please, tell me what's going on."

Percy's jaw visibly tightened as he met Grover's eyes. "What do you want me to say? I made a bet with Annabeth and suddenly I'm a freak?" He shook his head in disgust. "I'm through with this." With that, Percy stood from his seat and stormed off.

Of course, Grover wasn't letting him leave that easily. "Percy!" He began running after Percy, who then began sprinting, too. "Percy!" he called again, but the demigod simply sped up.

"Leave. Me. Alone!" Percy shouted, whirling around with angry, stormy eyes.

"No," Grover said, panting.

Percy suddenly got eerily calm, but the anger still swirled in his sea green orbs. Then he swiftly turned away, facing the building they had stopped in front of—the forge, where the children of Hephaestus spent much of their time.

Percy's face sobered. "I can't be here when it happens," he mumbled to himself, before he dashed off.

And again, Grover Underwood raced after him. He followed Percy as he darted this way and that, and even when he went between a dozen trees that smacked their branches in Grover's face. The whole time Grover was screaming: "Percy! Percy, man, stop! Please!"

Finally, Percy slowed down and stopped, huffing and puffing from his sprinting. "I can't be here when it happens," Percy kept on repeating as he slid down a tree. "I can't be there when it happens."

"Percy—Percy," huffed Grover, "what do you—you mean?" Grover really and truly was confused. What could Percy not see?

Percy drew his knees to his chest and placed his head between them. "I can't be there when it happens."

Sucking in a deep breath, Grover stepped toward Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder. The satyr almost flinched away when he felt the bone beneath his hand. Percy had been wearing baggier clothes lately, or so it seemed. When was the last time Perseus Jackson had a meal?

It was then that he smelled it. Smoke filled Grover's nose, and with that screams for help echoed in his ears. "Percy, we have to go."

Percy, instead of rushing off to save the day like usual, only clutched his head and ripped at his hair, repeating once again, "I can't be there when it happens."

"Percy, we have to go." Grover grit his teeth when Percy only ducked his head deeper between his knees. "Percy... Percy!" He gripped the demigod's shirt and pulled him to his feet. "We're leaving. Now." With that, Grover began dragging Percy to where the smoke was.

Because Percy was so stubbornly slow, the duo only managed to make it to the edge of the woods before the issue was resolved.

Well, mostly resolved.

What had happened was a fire in the forgery. It had started small, and the demigods had easily put it out. But the heat had remained, and soon there was another fire, one that grew and grew and grew. Some of Hephaestus's children were trapped inside, but they all got out.

There was only one little girl who had gotten out with some severe burns.

Grover wanted to go help, use some healing on the little girl, but Percy was still, frozen in place. "I can't go there," Percy stated quietly, yanking Grover back to him. "I can't."

When Grover stared deep into Percy's sea green eyes, he saw a swirl of emotions: fear, resentment, longing, insanity... That nearly covered everything else. In Percy's eyes was insanity, his crazed eyes wide and desperate.

"C'mon, Percy. You can." Grover tugged the demigod, but he tugged back harder, twisting the satyr's hand.

"No. I can't."

"But that little girl," Grover persisted. "I can help save her."

"No." Percy shook his head. "She's already dead."

Grover gaped. "No," he muttered, and then he left the Son of Poseidon, left those crazed eyes.

Left those wretched words.

He clopped in the infirmary, mind set on saving the little child of Hephaestus. "Will, where is she?" he asked, and Will Solace nodded in understanding.

"This way."

Grover stepped by the cot, stating at the small, burned child. "Is—is she dead?"

"No," answered Will. "She might be soon, but we all doubt it. She's strong."

Grover's breath had hitched at the dead part, but had smoothed out once he heard that the possibility was unlikely.

He was about to leave when Will gazed over his shoulder, and then the Son of Apollo's eyes widened in panic. "Move over," he shouted, shoving Grover away. "Quick! I need healers, stat!"

Grover was soon pushed out of the doors where the little burned girl was. He stood there for not even a full ten minutes before all of the healers walked out, morose and defeated.

By the way of their steps... their hung heads, Grover could guess what had happened.

But he didn't want to believe it.

He was about to ask, but Will Solace cut him off: "She's dead."

And that was that.

Grover Underwood froze, his mind running a million miles an hour, and then it came to the conclusion that somehow, someway, his best friend had known this would happen. That his best friend had known the forges would catch on fire.

And he had done nothing to stop the flames from burning.

Perseus Jackson had done nothing to save a life.

…

Perseus Jackson did not know how much longer he could handle this. Every time someone touched him, he would see their futures, maybe even pasts and presents.

It was driving Percy over the edge.

He couldn't eat, and sleep was out of the question entirely, because the dreams held even more visions.

He was growing weak.

People were beginning to worry even more, but Percy Jackson couldn't possibly care less, not with the burden of information—of deaths—weighed down on him.

But it was a test—to see if Percy would do anything, would change the future.

Would save a life.

He knew better, though; Percy Jackson had learned his lesson long ago.

And nothing could erase that lesson from his mind.

Because nothing could save Perseus Jackson from the control of the Fates.

And that would ultimately lead to the breaking of a hero.

Yes, the great facade of Perseus Jackson, the Son of Poseidon, the Hero of Olympus, was crumbling; but soon there would be no person to act as a fake.

Soon, there would be no Perseus Jackson.

…

Will Solace felt his chest constrict as he went to knock on the Hephaestus cabin's door. Jake Mason quickly opened the door, his face creased with worry, and Will shook his head. "She didn't make it," he said, watching as Jake's entire face fell with grief.

"Oh... Can... can I see her?" asked Jake, shifting from foot to foot.

"Of course." Will gave a strained smiled, though there was nothing to smile about. "Follow me."

They began walking in the direction of the infirmary, of the deceased child of Hephaestus, when Grover Underwood came barreling past them. There was an angry look in his eyes, a look one only got after betrayal, and Grover seemed to know exactly who to go after.

Catching Grover by the crook if his elbow, Will furrowed his brows. "What's wrong with you?" he asked worriedly; Grover wasn't one to be angry.

Grover shook him off, mumbling, "Percy." And then the satyr was off again, making his way towards the edge of the woods.

This confused Will Solace even more. Percy? But they were best friends. Will have a look to Jake beside him, and they made a silent agreement: Figure out what is going on, and then go visit the burned little girl.

They raced off, following the distressed Lord of the Wild to the edge of the woods, where, strangely, Perseus Jackson was sitting quietly.

As soon as Grover stopped running, he accused Percy: "You knew."

Percy Jackson shook his head rapidly, but not in a 'no' gesture, almost in a defeated, insane way. "I'm sorry," he muttered, clutching his head, not catching anyone's gaze.

"You knew," Grover continued, shaking, "but you didn't do anything."

"I couldn't do anything. I can't—"

"Yes, you could have!" Grover shouted, his voice strained.

Will, worried for both of his friends, placed a calming hand on Grover's shoulder. "What did Percy know?" Will asked calmly, though the inside of his stomach was in a turmoil; this seemed pretty serious.

Percy shook his head and ducked it between his knees. Grover trembled, but he turned to face Jake Mason. "Percy knew about the fire. He knew your sister would die."

There was more silence. There was always silence around Percy nowadays.

"What?" Jake asked, baffled and angry.

"Percy knew your sister was going to die," repeated Grover.

"How—how?" Will asked, gawking openly at the child of Poseidon. It wasn't like Percy would notice, anyway; his head was still firmly trapped between his knees.

For reasons unknown to the Son of Apollo, Will grew angry. "C'mon," he growled, yanking Percy up to his feet. Percy tensed in his grip and tried to pull away, but Will held tight and dragged him to cabin three. Grover and Jake followed dutifully behind.

The four were in Poseidon's cabin, Grover Underwood and Jake Mason guarding the door, Will Solace towering of the only occupant's bed, and Perseus Jackson curled into a pitiful ball on his bunk.

"I couldn't have done anything," whispered Percy as he sat up, unfurling from his tiny ball of pity.

So pitiful, Will thought.

"Yes, you could have," Jake growled out. "You could have saved her."

"I can't." Percy shook his head.

"And why can't you?" Will asked, glaring.

Percy turned his head to face Will, making eye contact. "Ask Thalia."

"What?"

"Ask Thalia Grace," Percy said again, slowly, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Why?" What did Thalia have to do with anything? All Will wanted to do was chew Percy out for not saving someone. Maybe some more, but, still.

"Ask Thalia Grace about your brother, Halcyon Green."

…

Perseus Jackson was completely and utterly losing it, even more with every passing second. Every time a person touched him, images flash through his mind—their birth, childhood, present life, future, and maybe even their death.

It was killing him. Especially when the little child of Hephaestus died of smoke inhalation. Percy would have loved to save her, but he couldn't.

If he had saved her, like Jon Blurey... like Suzanne Wilkerson...

Bad things. Horrible things.

This was all a test, he would remember, from the Fates, to see if he would save a life. It was a test where failure wasn't an option, because failure led to consequences.

Those consequences were the horrible things.

Those consequences trained him.

Those consequences were what turned Perseus Jackson colder.

Because when you're cold, death doesn't reach your heart quite as much.

And Perseus Jackson knew about death.

He lived with it.

Maybe that was what was really driving him over the edge.

Not the information, truly; but the lack of ability to save people in that information.

…

Thalia Grace was checking her arrows in her tent when she got an Iris Message. "Grover?" She asked, surprised. "What's this about?"

"Don't worry. I actually have a reason for IM-ing you," said Grover Underwood, the satyr who brought Thalia to Camp Half-Blood. He turned to the person beside him; Thalia could not tell who it was.

"Good," Thalia chuckled. "I'd have to beat you to a pulp if there wasn't a reason."

Grover smiled, but it looked like a grimace to her. "I want to know about Halcyon Green," he blurted.

Thalia froze. How did he know who Halcyon Green was? The only people who ever met him and lived were herself and Luke Castellan. Not even Annabeth Chase knew who he was. Her tongue moving against her brain's will, Thalia stuttered out, "He—he was an old demigod. A child of Apollo I met."

"Did he... did he..." Grover gulped. "Could he see into the future?"

Thalia couldn't move, couldn't even think. How did he know? "Yes, he could..." She was wary. What was going on? "But he didn't like to use it."

"Oh." Grover gulped, and a boy—Will Solace, Thalia realized with a start—popped his head into the image.

"Percy says to ask why," Will said to Grover.

"What does he mean by that?" Grover asked Will, peeking over Will's shoulder, probably to look at Percy Jackson.

There was a sigh, and then Perseus Jackson stepped into the picture. "Tell them why Halcyon didn't like to use his ability." His eyes were crazed, but he had a defeated aura about him—slumped shoulders, bent forward, head ducked. Did Percy lose weight? wondered Thalia idly.

Thalia's mouth was dry like the Sahara desert. "He—he was cursed. Halcyon was locked up for sixty years. Over, I think. He couldn't speak, so the monsters that guarded Halcyon did for him. It was creepy."

"What did he do?" Percy insisted. "What did he do to that made the gods curse him?"

Thalia didn't want to say anything, but the way Percy was... She just had to, so she could figure out what was going on. "He saved a woman who was supposed to die."

That was all Perseus Jackson needed, apparently. He whirled on three people—Grover Underwood, Will Solace, and Jake Mason—his eyes blazing. "Mine was much worse."

The image was slashed through, but before it ended, Thalia Grace watched as Percy Jackson stormed out of the room. It had made it official: She needed to go to Camp Half-Blood and find out what the Hades was going on.

To find out what was going on with Perseus Jackson.

…

Perseus Jackson dunked his head under the ocean surface again, so he could linger in the salt and water, in his territory. It helped clear his mind, which was about to exploded from overload. Everything was getting to him nowadays it seemed; every little detail on someone's life, a little detail he was not supposed to know, just made Percy all the more jittery.

The water helped eased his suffering, but he knew it wouldn't last. Eventually, the knowledge would be too much, Percy knew, and then he would be no more. Perseus knew that, accepted it. There was no other way, because he wasn't planning on telling anyone his ability.

No way. Not ever.

Perseus raised his submerged head above the water line, gazing at the stars. It was far past curfew, though he had no intentions of leaving the ocean to go to his cabin. Leaving for his cabin meant sleeping, and sleeping led to nightmares.

Percy was sick of nightmares, just like how he was sick of this test.

This stupid, stupid test.

Seriously, just because he had made a "mistake" twice before didn't mean he would again! Percy could learn!

Those punishments made sure of that.

Perseus shivered as he slipped out of the water. The punishments were more than scarring; they complete changed his demeanor, him. They changed the very way he lived and acted.

Stupid, stupid punishments, ruining him.

Perseus Jackson headed for cabin three, already feeling the prickle of dread deep in his stomach.

Stupid, stupid ability.

…

Clarisse la Rue listened mindlessly to Annabeth Chase's endless worry about her boyfriend, Perseus Jackson. "He's always on his own now, and whenever someone touches him he gets this awful look in his eyes." Annabeth shook her head. "What do I do?"

"I don't know," grumbled Clarisse. "I have no idea what's going on with Prissy."

"Well"—the daughter of Athena threw her hands up in the air in frustration—"it has to be something."

"No kidding."

If Clarisse had to be honest, and though she would never ever admit it, she was worried as well. From the quick glances she had taken of him from her peripheral vision, Clarisse could notice the dark bruises under Percy's eyes, the loss of weight from not eating, the dullness in his eyes, as if he had given up hope. Everything about the Son of Poseidon was different, wrong.

She didn't know what could be weighing down on Percy like this, but she did know that Grover Underwood, Will Solace, and Jake Mason knew exactly what was going on. Clarisse had spotted them dragging Perseus to his cabin, and then Percy storming out in a rush, leaving the three boys dumbfounded. They knew something, and Clarisse was about to confront them about it, especially Will, considering that he was in the same room as her.

Right after this counselors meeting, that is.

Chiron cleared his throat loudly, gathering the attention of all the demigods in the room. "I understand we are all... concerned about Perseus," he rumbled, and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. "Now, if anyone knows anything—anything at all—please tell. We wish to help the Hero of Olympus in his time of need."

Clarisse thought no one would stand, because no one had any true information except Will Solace, and Will was a wimp. But, apparently, Wimpy Will had some form of guts.

"I know something." He raised one hand as he stood.

Chiron raised a surprised eyebrow, but she nodded for Will to continue.

"Percy—he— Well, I think..." He trailed off as Perseus Jackson himself casually stepped in the room before flopping down in a chair.

"Please, do continue," he whispered softly, yet commandingly. "I want to hear what's going on here." Smiling slyly, he snuggled deeper in the chair, as if what he was doing was innocent, normal, even.

"Um, well," stuttered Will, and Clarisse stood to his aid; actually, it's more she stood to put Prissy back in his place—it was all that, really.

"What are you doing here, Prissy?" she bellowed, leaning forward to get all up in his face.

Percy raised an eyebrow carefully, but it all seemed too... planned, almost, to Clarisse. "This is a counselors meeting, correct? Well, I am a counselor, so"—he motioned to himself and the area around him—"I am here."

Clarisse bristled, her shoulders quaking. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a bit busy shunning everyone."

The corners of Percy's lips curved downward, but all emotions were quickly wiped off after that minuscule moment. "No, I wasn't, thank you very much." His eyes hardened, like they were rocks about to penetrate through her skin. "Actually, it seems more like everyone is ignoring me." Leaning back, Percy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

"I bet they aren't!" a voice shouted from behind the door, and suddenly Thalia Grace was storming in the Big House, her hands gripping a bow tightly; her boots made echoing thudding sounds against the wooden flooring, and Thalia knocked on Prissy's head with her bow. "I will bet my life on it that you're the one avoiding them. My. Life."

Percy didn't even bat an eye at Thalia's sudden appearance, but everybody else was stunned.

"Thalia!" cheered Annabeth, sliding around the Ping-Pong table to swing her arms around the huntress's neck. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't visit?" Thalia smiled cheerfully and hugged Annabeth back.

"No, it's just—"

"That I usually have a reason?" Smirking, Thalia plopped down into a seat, but then her playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a menacing glare at Perseus Jackson. "Now, tell me, what's wrong with you?" she spat, but Percy remained indifferent. If anything, it looked as if he were even more comfortable than before.

His lips pursed, the Son of the Sea God sighed, slouching in his seat. "What is wrong with me...?" he hummed to himself. "What do you think is wrong with me, Thalia?"

"I think," Thalia snapped, electricity sparking off her shoulders, "that you're a butthead, and you're avoiding everyone for no good reason." She practically threw her bow at the table in aggravation, and Clarisse caught it with a start.

Percy shrugged off her words easily, turning to Will Solace. "And what do you think?" he queried with a raised eyebrow.

"I..." Wimpy Will gulped. "I think that... that..." He coward at the stare Perseus was giving him, even though the look sent his way was not a glare, not even one with any emotion; it was blank. "I think you..." Bringing his pointed finger back, Will snapped his jaw closed. "Never mind. It's silly."

And that was that. Nothing else was spoken, and the demigods left for their activities for the day.

Clarisse la Rue didn't even bother to confront the trio, for the information was bound to be awful.

…

Perseus Jackson hugged his knees to his chest tightly, eyes shut tight like this would end the visions terrorizing his mind.

He was remembering. Remembering Jon Blurey and Suzanne Wilkerson. What he did.

Percy would never take what he did back—not in any lifetimes—but he knew he would never do what he did for those two ever again, because Percy Jackson was selfish like that. He never wanted to feel any torture like that ever again, because, yes, he hated the pain that much—so much as to never save a life again.

Of course, the pain of not saving a life and saving one were both excruciating, but the consequences of saving one overpowered the knowing of not saving one.

The consequence for Jon Blurey, his first offense... Percy recalled the blank white eyes of Phineas and wondered if his had been that way. No, they hadn't, but being in the dark like that was an awful thing.

The consequences for Suzanne Wilkerson, the second and last offense... Percy felt like he was actually walking the whole of North America all over again, searching for six innocent demigods so that he could officiate their futures, their destinies, their fates. "All of you are intertwined," Percy had been told in a dream. "You will be the Seven. Find the others and seal their Fates." The voices, three of them, were ancient but powerful, and the next thing young Perseus had known was his pounding feet on the abandoned rode, off to find the Daughter of Athena, the one who walks alone.

By saving two lives, Perseus had killed many others, and never again would he make that mistake.

He rocked back and forth in the corner of his cabin, trying with all his might to gain back control, but nothing worked.

The images continued, and Perseus Jackson felt himself crumble to ash.

…

Nico di Angelo was visiting Camp Half-Blood. Earlier in the Underworld, he had received an IM from a disheveled Annabeth Chase, and she was acting as if Perseus Jackson was dying. So, of course, the Son of Hades had to check if his cousin was indeed dying.

And that meant somehow getting into cabin three. Nico could always shadow travel, but bringing along Annabeth Chase, Thalia Grace, Grover Underwood, Will Solace, Jake Mason, Clarisse la Rue, and Chiron was a completely different matter entirely. Pursing his lips, Nico poked the door with his Stygian sword gingerly, before placing his foot firmly against the wooden door. Bring the foot back a little... he thought, and then WHAM! The door exploded inward.

Perseus Jackson was in front of Nico immediately, and the Son of Hades automatically knew what everyone was worried about. Percy looked like death. At least twenty pounds he really needed were missing from his physic, bags bigger than his actual sea-green eyes hung on his face, his hair looked like it had been torn at, and his eyes themselves looked lifeless.

And from the aura Percy was sending off, Nico could tell Percy was dying. Soon.

"What do you want?" Percy asked gruffly, stalking off to his bed.

"We want to help you," Annabeth whispered, cautiously making her way toward her boyfriend. Everyone else followed her lead, slowly making their single file into the cabin.

"There's nothing to fix." A scowl covered Percy's usually happy face, and, apparently, that is what caused Thalia Grace to act out.

"Shut up already!" She flung herself forward and grasped Percy's shirt, hauling him up to his feet. "There is something wrong with you! Stop acting like a child and tell us!"

Nico watched carefully as Percy's sea-green eyes clouded over, glowing ever so slightly. "Let go," groaned Percy, holding his neck.

"No! Tell me!"

"Thalia, let go!" His voice was becoming panicked, worried.

"No! I—"

"You left after Jason disappeared because you thought you had nothing left."

Her grip loosened, and Percy took his chance to escape. "How...?"

"Your mom was an alcoholic and did stupid stunts to get Zeus's attention when you were real little, and then when your dad came back you noticed how he paid more attention to you."

"You..."

"You joined the Artemis's hunters because you learned your fatal flaw." Percy was ranting now, his eyes wide and hands covering his ears, like that would block everyone out.

"You'll be in the hunt for a lot longer than Zoë Nightshade ever was, and you'll die in battle with a mortal."

"You..." Thalia trailed off. "You have the Sight."

Percy nodded, breathless, and in that moment of silence, Rachel Elizabeth Dare decided to pop her head through the open doorway. "You guys figure out what's up with Percy yet?"

"Yeah..." mumbled Nico weakly.

Rachel came in then, Leo Valdez, Frank Zhang, Jason Grace, Piper McLean, and Hazel Levesque behind her, and the Seven lined up in that order next to Annabeth Chase.

And apparently, this was highly amusing to the Son of Poseidon. He chuckled; then that little chuckle became full on laughter. "I found all of you in exactly that order," Percy said after a while, and in reply there was silence and questioning glances.

Percy stood, looking insane as he did so. "You"—he pointed at Annabeth—"I found when I was seven, after you ran away from home. And you, Leo. I was in the hospital with you after your mom died. She was a nice lady, Esperanza. Frank." Percy moved on to point at Frank. "Gods, Frank! I gave you your first bow and arrow. Can you believe that? Jason, we met during one of your little quests, right? You tried to stab me! Piper, Piper, Piper. Are people still bullying you? And Hazel! I told you, you would have a second chance. Yes I did, yes I did."

The Seven were silent after that, until Annabeth whispered a single word, a single name: "Alaster?"

"A promise is a promise, isn't it? Even if you don't know it is fulfilled." Percy slid down the wall, a smile on his face. "Huh? Isn't that right?"

Nico di Angelo sensed the life draining out of Perseus Jackson, and so he did the only logical thing: he screamed. "He's dying! Get him to the infirmary! He's dying!"

…

Perseus Jackson had another dream, even though he was positive he was going to die. The dream was only him—or his senses, really—in a pitch black room, in nothing. Like he was blind again.

"Perseus," the three voices rang out, "you must live. You must do your duty, your duty to us."

Percy said nothing, and he did not think he could anyway.

"You will work for us for the rest of your life, but your time has not come yet. We have many years left in store for you, Perseus. Now, awaken."

And Percy did wake up, somehow knowing that the test was over, that he was once again in control. Percy Jackson opened his eyes to all his friends crowded around his little cot. They were worried about him, Percy could tell, and he knew he was the cause.

No more.

Percy Jackson let everything out that day, and maybe that was a good thing. His ability didn't need to be kept a secret. It never had to.

That day, Perseus Jackson was finally set free from his curse.

Even though it never really was a curse in the first place.

…

So… What do ya think? Please tell me in reviews.

There will be a companion fic to this, though I have no idea what the name will be.

Peace and all that other stuff.

~XxxXGreek GeekXxxX