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Percy hated therapy.
Okay, maybe that was a lie, but he did hate his therapist.
…Okay maybe that was a lie too, but what he did hate was not being allowed to hide from his problems.
Percy’s mom had managed to convince Percy to take the next big step months ago. She had practically begged him. Curled up on the floor of the emergency room, holding the limp hand of her only son.
“Please don’t die, baby. Mommy can’t live without you.”
That had been one hell of a sign, if any.
It was harder than Percy expected it to be. New York wasn’t known for its abundance of therapists, and demigods rarely lived long enough to make it to college. When Percy found his first therapist, a legacy of Athena, Percy was grateful enough to offer Athena an offering at dinner.
Every day, Percy regrets offering her that piece of steak.
The legacy was self-licensed with a diploma that might as well have been painted onto the drywall.
Percy had been approached by the legacy after leaving his last class at NRU. The man had been as old as dirt, with dirty blonde hair and a face as friendly as the average son of Ares.
Percy had been incredibly skeptical of the man when he first approached him, but his mom had been so ecstatic when Percy told her about scheduling his first appointment. He’d already broken her heart once; he couldn’t do it a second time.
So, off to therapy, he went.
The first appointment was…rough.
The man knew a lot about him. Percy figured it came with the title of hero, but it was unnerving having someone who was supposed to be his last chance at a fresh start know so much about him before he even sat down.
It became very apparent that his ‘therapist’ was more of an overgrown fanboy than a medical professional. Percy did not schedule another appointment with him after that.
The next few therapists were the same. Nobody legacies who wanted the bragging rights of ‘saving the hero from himself’ and a free autograph.
If it wasn’t for the fact his mom had such high hopes for him finding ‘the one’ he would have given up before he even started.
Luckily, the fates had taken pity on him. A once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity is in the form of a pop-up ad.
The computers at New Rome University were nearly as ancient as the school itself. Big blocky computer screens that ran at a snail's pace. The ad had taken up the entire screen and nearly crashed the whole appliance, but there it sat, as clear as day.
‘For the people who can no longer care. I care for you. Dr. Laura Hill, registered psychiatrist.’
At the bottom of the screen was an address and phone number. Grabbing the nearest pen and tearing off a corner of his anatomy homework, Percy wrote the number down in a messy scrawl. Something told Percy she was his last stroke of hope; if she couldn’t help him, no one could.
Percy shoved the piece of paper in the back pocket of his jeans and prayed his gut feeling was right.
Percy didn’t call the number until three days later.
He was nervous, ok?
Percy gripped the landline as though he was scared of it running out of the booth instead of him.
Percy cursed every time he messed up the number and had to redial it. By the time the phone rang, Percy was ready to give up. He only had so much hope in his body.
“Hello?”
Percy dropped the phone. He cringed at the loud bang that echoed in the booth as the telephone swung on its cord, bouncing off the window pane.
“Hello? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! I’m sorry I just dropped the phone.” Percy held the landline between his cheek and shoulder to wipe the seat off his palms.
“That’s ok, hun. Are you calling for an appointment?”
“Yes. I saw an ad for a Dr. Hill. Is this the right number?”
“It sure is. Is this your first time making an appointment with her?”
Yep. Can’t you tell from the clumsy fingers and the chattering teeth? If my bone shook any harder, I’d start an earthquake.
“Yes.”
“Alright, just give me a moment to take a look at her schedule…how are you today?”
Percy wiped his hands on his shorts a second time. The glass was beginning to fog up a ridiculous amount.
“I’m fine. I’m just really nervous. This is the sixth therapist I've been with, and I’m starting to feel hopeless.”
“I’m sorry to hear that hun. Dr. Hill is one of the kindest women I know, you’ll love her. I can just feel it.”
Over the line, Percy could hear the robotic typing of a keyboard. He hoped, Dr. Hill wasn’t flooded with traumatized teenagers to the point that she couldn’t fit in one more.
“Well, would you look at that! It seems like one of her other clients canceled their 1 o’clock appointment for tomorrow. If you’re available, can I schedule you for then?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m available. Thank you so much!”
“Alright! Can I have a name for this appointment?”
“Perseus Jackson.”
___
Percy sat as patiently as he could in the colorful waiting room of Dr. Hill’s office. Maggie, a bubbly-spirited daughter of Iris and the receptionist Percy had spoken with yesterday, had handed Percy a lollipop when he entered the room.
Percy hoped that this therapist was truly the one he thought she was if that meant he got to keep collecting candy.
“Perseus Jackson?”
From around the corner appeared a blonde lady in a beige cardigan. Standing up, Percy waved his hand like he was waiting for him to call on him again.
“Hi. I’m Perseus. You can call me Percy, though.”
“Right. Let’s head back, shall we, Percy?”
Opening the tiny gate that separated the waiting room from the private offices Percy waved to Maggie and followed Dr. Hill down the hall and into a room with lilac walls.
“It is nice to meet you, Percy. I hope you didn’t have any problems with getting here.”
Percy reached out to Dr. Hill shook her outstretched hand. She had a soft grip and cold hands. It was kind of like shaking hands with a zombie.
“None at all, I live around this area, it’s a surprise I haven’t heard of you before.”
Dr. Hill uncovered a dark purple armchair that was hidden under a baby blue sheet and sat across from it in a matching red chair. Accepting the seat, Percy sank into the velvet chair.
“I recently relocated offices so I could be closer to the city square. Enough about me, Percy. We are here to talk about you. Where do you want to begin Percy?”
For the first time since seeking out therapy, Percy felt like he was finally on the path to a fresh start.
__
Percy hated therapy.
Okay, maybe that was a lie, but he did hate his therapist.
…Okay maybe that was a lie too, but what he did hate was not being allowed to hide from his problems.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Laura.”
Percy slid the journal his therapist had placed in front of him back to her side of the table. Laura grabbed the journal and slapped it down into Percy’s lap.
“Just think about it, Percy. Doing this won't hurt you.”
“What would I want to write down all my trauma for? This is why I come to you once a week!”
Laura, for all her patience, looked ready to smack Percy upside his head. For the past three weeks, she’s been trying to get Percy to ‘write down his life’. She claimed that it would help him come to terms with his past, but it just felt like one big trauma scam.
“You come to me for solutions to a problem. I provide you with answers and potential solutions. It is up to you to figure out the rest.”
Percy sunk in his seat and picked up the journal. It was a simple leather-bound notebook. On the cover, Laura had printed out a sticker with his name on it and a second one of a dolphin. It looked like the kind of notebook his mom would write her rough drafts in.
Percy’s never been much of a reader, preferring it when someone verbalized a story for him, he had a flask drive at home loaded with audiobooks and old podcast episodes, not to mention the most writing Percy has ever done was argumentative essays that were worth a fourth of his grade.
“Your mom writes stories, right? Instead of seeing this as a chore, you need to do to make yourself feel better, think of it as a bonding activity that the two of you could do together,” Laura reached over and put her hand on his knee. Laura was touchy for a therapist, not that Percy’s ever had an issue with it, but right now, the last thing he wanted was to be coddled like a toddler. "Write it down. Turn it into a story."
"My trauma isn't entertainment."
"You're right. It's not. What it is is tragic. Show me what happens to those who survive the unsurvivable.”
Percy left Laura’s office with a blueberry lollipop in his mouth, and the leatherbound journal tucked under his arm. Spring break was around the corner. Before he walked back to his dorm, Percy stopped at one of New Rome’s phone booths and called his mom. If he was going to do this, Percy refused to do it alone.
__
Percy sat at his mom's dining table, bouncing the tip of his pencil against the blank sheet of paper.
Behind him, Estelle was singing along to an episode of Bubble Guppies. She unfortunately got her singing skills from him.
“Are you okay, honey?”
Percy clutched his mother's hand in his empty one. She had gotten more grey hairs over the last year. Percy felt awful knowing that most of them had come from him.
Sally held on to Percy’s shoulders like she was scared he’d disappear from the kitchen table if she let go of him.
“I’ve been trying to journal, but I don’t think it’s for me. I’ve been making so much progress, Mom. Why can’t I do this?”
If Percy wasn’t such an emotionally stunted man, he would have teared up, sank into his mother's arms, and wept about how unfair his life was.
In the living room, Percy could hear Estelle rush to the bathroom. She was getting so big, and Percy was missing all of it. Just yesterday, she was learning how to crawl, and now she was running around the house.
“Maybe you should take a break for today. It’s perfectly fine if nothing comes to mind right now, all that matters is that when you do think of something to write, it’s something from the heart,” Sally pressed a firm kiss to Percy’s temple like she wanted to do nothing more than fix whatever mental barriers were attacking her son. “How about joining me in the kitchen? I want to have spaghetti for dinner.”
Percy closed the journal and forgot about it for the rest of the night.
The next day, during breakfast, Percy bounced the corner of the book against his knee. In the living room, his mom was trying to wrestle a shirt of his little sister.
“Estelle if you want to go to the park, you need to put a shirt on.”
“But old man Dan doesn’t wear shirts to the park!”
“That is because Mr. Dan is an adult. You, however, are not, so put the shirt on missy.”
Besides Percy, Paul watched his wife and toddler arguing about what made a person an adult until Sally finally managed to pull a shirt over the five-year-old.
“Be kind to your mom, Estelle. You wouldn’t want her to cry, would you?”
At Percy’s comment, Estelle let out a scandalized gasp and grabbed onto her mothers leg.
“Don’t cry, Momma! I’ll wear a shirt,” Rushing out of the living room and over to the laundry hamper, Estelle pulled out one of Paul’s button-ups. “I’ll even get old man Dan to wear one. Hurry!”
Rushing to the front door, Estelle grabbed her Ariel shoes and shook them at Sally.
“Oh boy, I can’t wait to see Estelle try and put a shirt on Dan. I’ll see you boys later.”
Sally pressed a kiss to Percy’s cheek and a matching one to Paul’s.
“Have fun at the park, Sally.”
“Later, Mom.”
Percy watched as Estelle dragged their moma and one of Paul’s shirts out the door and down the hall, standing up Percy closed and locked the door, hoping Estelle hadn’t taken one of Paul’s nicer shirts.
“She’s gotten so big, it’s crazy to think that she’s already five and hates clothing.”
Paul laughed at Percy’s attempt at a joke. Paul’s hair was starting to grey, too. He hoped it was from his students and not from him as well.
“She’s already hopping off of furniture as well and giving me and your mother chronic heart attacks.”
Percy picked up his still-empty notebook and flipped to the front page. Percy felt like Spongebob trying to write an essay. Percy had wanted to write down at least one page before his next appointment. Laura truly was a huge help, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Are you still having trouble with your writing?”
Paul had migrated to the kitchen and began to boil a kettle of hot water.
“Yeah. Mom told me to try and write something from the heart, but I have no clue what that means.”
“Hmm.”
Paul began to gather two empty mugs from the cabinets and four bags of tea. This was one of the many things Percy liked about Paul, he wasn’t like his past teachers who pushed Percy to think of solutions to problems on the spot, Paul was more than willing to sit in silence and wait for an answer to come naturally to him.
Once the kettle began to whistle, Paul began preparing their tea. He worked in silence, so Percy took it as a cue that the conversation was over.
When Percy was given his mug of tea, he didn’t fight back the smile that twitched on his face. The tea, just like his journal and mug, was a deep shade of blue.
Butterfly pea tea. Paul had bought it for Percy after he was released from the hospital. It had seemed like such a silly gift at the time, but it had quickly become one of his favorite drinks. Paul only brewed it when Percy came home from college.
Maybe Percy could write a paragraph on tea.
“I hate olives.”
Percy looked at Paul from over his mug. Paul was circling his spoon around the lip of his cup.
“Not because I’m allergic or because they taste bad, but my sister ate a jar of them when I was six and developed a rash. We had to take her to the clinic and get her cream. Ever since I’ve hated olives, I even wrote my college essay about it.”
Paul placed a firm hand on Percy’s shoulder, looking at the demigod as though he couldn’t be any more supportive of him.
“Just because it comes from the heart doesn’t mean it also comes from a place of love. I hate olives because I love my sister. I also hate them because I hate rashes. If it’s easier, try naming something you hate and then go from there.”
Paul patted Percy on the back and went back to grading papers like nothing had happened.
Percy picked up his ballpoint pen and began to write down all the things he hated.
I hate the taste of olives.
I hate seeing Mom cry.
I hate waking up before 8 AM.
I hate quests.
I hate being a demigod.
‘Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.’
Percy spent the rest of the afternoon writing.
When it was time for him to drive back to New Rome, he was buzzing in his seat, counting down the hours until he could show Laura all he had written down.
When he had presented the journal to Laura, he distracted himself with the bin of Legos she had stored on a shelf in her office.
When she had read through it, she snapped the book shut and dropped it on the table.
“Percy. Look at me.”
When Percy looked up at the older woman, he hadn't expected her to be teary-eyed.
“Have you ever considered becoming an author?”
By the time summer started and school was out for the season, Percy was on his way to publishing his first YA novel.
‘Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief.’
When Percy had brought home the first copy under the alias, Rick Riordan, and had gifted it to his mother, there was no stopping the tears from either of them.
Once Percy had published the first book he had begun writing the second. Then the third. Then the fourth and fifth. Based on the feedback he was receiving from his editor and publisher, two twin sons of Calliope, students across America were loving it.
Percy hadn’t told any of his friends about his new side career, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t found out about it.
Grover was the first one to come up to him about it, clutching, The lightning thief, in his hands like it was precious treasure.
Percy had told Grover about everything he had missed when he was traveling. Laura, the journal, the next four books he had lined up, and even Paul’s story with the olives. Grover had stayed over that night, both men curled up on his mother's living room floor whispering about all the crazy things they had gotten up to following the story of Percy’s first quest. Before Grover left the next morning Percy had signed his best friend's book and promised to send him a signed copy of the second one.
The next to confront him was Annabeth. She had wanted to talk to him about so much. Gabe, her actions towards him, his time at Yancy, Luke. Everything that Percy didn’t want to talk about.
Percy did not tell her about the rest of the series.
The next person to approach him was Nico.
The son of Hades had snuck into his Mom’s house just before lunch.
“Hey Percy, or should I say Rick?”
Percy pulled Nico into a rough side hug. “That’s Mr. Riordan to you young man.”
Nico swiped half of Percy’s Italian sub off his plate. “What kind of name even is that?”
“It was my great uncle’s name. The one my mom took care of.”
“Hmm.”
Nico did not ask Percy anything else concerning the book after that. Instead, he stuck around to play pretend with Estelle and eat dinner with the Jackson-Blofis family.
“Do you want to stay the night Nico?”
Nico was in the kitchen helping Sally clean the dishes despite her protests.
“I’m sorry Sally, but I promised Father that I would be home tonight. Thank you for the dinner though.”
Once the dishes were washed and dried Sally put together a to-go plate for Nico and waved him out the door.
When Percy went to bed he picked up the copy of his book that Nico had brought with him. In between the pages was a purple bookmark. Opening the book to the page Nico had left off on Percy blushed when he saw the note Nico had left behind on it.
‘Tempted to take a nap at my dad's feet? As lithe and graceful as a panther? You are a mess, Percy.’
Percy wanted to take a very long nap in a very dark room.
The rest of Percy’s summer went by in a breeze. It was rejuvenating to spend so much time with his family again. When the summer was nearly over and fall was on its path to begin Percy wasn’t ready to say his goodbyes but his marine engineering degree wasn’t going to earn itself.
Percy was also excited to see Laura and Maggie again. He hadn’t been to the office since school ended, but they’d been skyping once every two weeks over his Mom’s laptop.
While Percy sat in the waiting room of Laura’s office making small talk with Maggie, he tried not to make it obvious that he was ecstatic to see one of the other patients reading his book in the corner of the room.
“Percy?”
“Laura!”
Rushing to greet the woman Percy couldn’t hold back the bounce in his step. For the first time in a long time, Percy was happy with what his life had become.
When Percy opened the door to his condo after his appointment with Laura, he was overwhelmed by the smell of sun-bleached bones and pomegranate.
“Nico, are you here?”
Rounding the corner, Percy gasped when he saw that it was not Nico waiting for him. In the middle of his living room, flipping through his first journal was Hades.
“Hades! What are you doing here?”
Percy watched as Hade opened the notebook and read one of the lines from it.
“I was tempted to take a nap at Hades' feet. Curl up here and sleep forever,” Percy was starting to regret including that line. “For the past three months your father has been promoting this book of yours, it’s been driving the rest of us crazy. Especially Zeus and Ares. I wonder if your father has made it this far into the book though.”
Percy really regretted adding that sentence.
“Tell me Perseus, do you still wish to take a nap at my feet or would you prefer I ordered you to do something else?”
Percy cursed Laura for handing him that notebook.
“I…I’m…sorry?”
Hades, honest to god laughed.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about Percy. Show me your bedroom, allow me to repent for all that I’ve done to you.”
Percy couldn’t be more grateful to Laura for handing him that notebook.