Chapter Text
The ship flew hard south, cutting through the night like an arrow shot with uncanny precision from a hunter’s bow.
The moon’s glow lit the deck of Argo II. Loose ropes swayed gently, casting strange silhouettes against the wood.
Piper found him on the deck, near the bow. Alone, with his gaze aimed towards the many stars which filled the sky. But Percy had eyes only for one.
Far behind them, she could still see glimpses of the flames still engulfing the streets of New Rome. Columns of smoke rose from between the mountains. The devastation they had left behind…
Piper shivered under the cold. The air was unusually chilling for that time of the year. Percy however, did not seem to notice the cold.
Hesitantly, she took one step closer, leaning against the railing next to him. From below the deck, Leo’s yells from the engine room carried upwards, followed shortly by Jason shouting something irritated back.
“You always sit alone and brood?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He did not turn to face her, but the corner of his mouth turned upward.
“You always go around interrogating people?”
Piper shrugged, her eyes studying the long scars on his bicep.
“That wasn't exactly an answer,” she said instead.
“I don't have one,” Percy said, lowering his gaze to look at the fields below them.
Rivers flowed eerily, carving through the land like veins. Piper had the uncomfortable sensation that the earth itself was breathing underneath the ship.
She eyed him for a moment longer. The slightly hunched posture of his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He seemed exhausted, but he carried himself as if he did not have the luxury to show it.
“I'm sorry,” she began, and when Percy turned to give her a confused look she continued. “For what happened in New Rome, I mean.”
Percy sighed. “It wasn't your fault, Piper. That kid –Leo, you said his name was?– it wasn't his either.”
“The spirit which possessed him…”
“Is gone now, what's done is done, Piper, now we only move forward.”
She said nothing for a moment, musing over his words. “You know, you are not quite like I expected.”
He raised a brow at that, amusement in his eyes. “Oh? Do tell then, what have you heard of my legendary exploits?”
She chuckled at his expression. Indeed, Percy Jackson was not at all like what she had imagined.
“You know, Leo is terrified of you,” she said.
The air seemed warmer now, her skin did not feel the prickle of the wind anymore. She thought that she could smell the faintest traces of sea. Yet the ocean was still miles and miles away from them.
“I thought that he'd be more scared of Jason,” she continued, “after the fiasco in New Rome. It was his home for so long.”
In moments like these, Piper realised how little she knew of the son of Jupiter. How much she had thought that she loved had been shaped by memories that were never truly hers.
Hera –Juno, she corrected herself– had been crueler than any liked to admit.
Percy leaned over the railing, his eyes catching the light of the moon. They seemed to glow then, green and bright. Yet never agreeing to a single shade, always changing, subtly. In a way, it reminded Piper of her own eyes, a spectrum of rainbows trapped within them.
“It was my home too, for a while…” he whispered, the words almost lost in the wind.
Beneath them, the rivers surged as one. Piper saw as the currents came to life, waves sweeping across them. Water surged violently against the banks, churning white beneath the moonlight.
Percy gripped the railing, knuckles turning white from the force. He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. When he opened them, the rivers calmed, settling back into their lazy flow, as if nothing had ever happened.
He stilled himself, as if expecting something from her, but said nothing.
The silence was heavy, as he kept staring over the railing, shoulders tense under his shirt. Piper understood then, with uncomfortable clarity, that he was waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to decide what he was.
“You do that often?” she asked softly.
He didn't respond, and for a second she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her over the engines.
Then he laughed once under his breath, humourless.
“More often lately.”
He still didn't look at her. Piper studied his profile carefully. At that moment, he looked less like a hero and more like someone utterly exhausted by himself.
Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm. “Does it happen when you are angry?”
He finally glanced at her, surprise flickering briefly across his face.
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
The rivers stayed calm below them. Yet Piper could still feel the raw violence with which they ferociously swep. The scent of the sea was stronger now, invading her senses in a surprisingly pleasant way.
She held his gaze, steadily. “That sounds exhausting,” she said.
Percy stared at her, like he couldn't figure out what she was doing, why she hadn't shied away from him.
“You're not worried?” he asked quietly.
His words sounded lonely, and something twisted painfully in her chest. She watched him for a long moment. There was something strange about him. Not his powers. Not his reputation. But his isolation, as if he had decided that he alone could carry the things no one else could see. Like he had convinced himself that there were parts of him that no one could touch.
She leaned back against the railing, close enough that their shoulders could almost touch.
“You stopped it,” she said simply.
He frowned slightly.
“The rivers,” she clarified, shrugging. “You were angry, they reacted. Then you stopped it.”
“That's still not normal.”
“No,”, she agreed. “But it's still control.”
He stared at her. The wind roared around the ship, yet they felt none of it. Below them, moonlight sparkled silver across the ocean finally coming into view ahead.
And Piper realized suddenly that Percy looked at her like someone waiting for a door to slam shut. And when it didn't, something shifted in his eyes. Relief. Small and careful.
Piper felt it happen between them like the first shift in ice before a crack spreads across a frozen lake.
Percy looked away first. Almost abruptly, like he had already revealed too much.
“So,” he said, voice rougher now, “how are things between you and Jason?”
His attempt to change the subject was so obvious that Piper almost smiled. Almost. Instead she looked towards the ocean.
“We broke up.”
Percy blinked. “What?”
Piper let out a quiet laugh without amusement.
“We were already falling apart before all of this,” she gestured vaguely behind them, toward the darkness in which New Rome had disappeared. “The fake memories just made it impossible to ignore our issues.”
Percy stayed quiet, so Piper continued. “We kept trying…to force something because everyone expected us to work,” she frowned, speaking softly now, “even my mother.”
“That sucks.”
The bluntness of his response pulled a small smile from her. “Yeah. It was weird, knowing that your feelings were built by Hera.”
Percy's expression darkened. “She messed with all of us.”
Piper eyed him carefully, she thought at the warm way Annabeth had talked about him, with a longing plagued by sadness.
“You and Annabeth,” she began, “what you have was real before Hera.”
Percy stayed quiet, picking absently at a splinter in the railing.
“You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to.”
“No it's…” He exhaled slowly, “it's hard, you know?”
She did. Yet the honesty surprised both of them. Piper said nothing, waiting for the demigod to sort his thoughts.
“We spent months trying to get back to each other,” he said quietly. “Then we finally did and everything immediately became war.”
He looked towards the horizon, something tired in his expression. “We barely had a chance to be something.”
“You still love her.”
“Yeah,” he responded instantly. “But sometimes, it feels like we missed something,” he continued quietly.
The wind snapped sharply through the loose ropes above them. Piper’s heartbeat stumbled strangely.
“Missed what?”
“I don't know.” His answer felt unfinished, like he had more to say but couldn't bear himself to let the words become real.
Silence settled between them again. The ocean stretched before them. Behind, California had become a distant thing, a shadow swallowed by clouds and darkness.
“Even in New Rome,” she said, “people looked at you like something that needs to be kept in check.”
For a long moment, he just stared at the sea. Then, carefully, he whispered. “Maybe they should.”
Piper frowned immediately. “No.”
Her answer made him turn towards her, surprised. His jaw was tight with emotion.
“You barely know me.”
“Maybe,” Piper said, considering his words. “But I know what it looks like when someone is drowning and pretending they aren't.”
For the first time, she felt the full weight of his attention settling on her. Piper inhaled sharply. No one had warned her how dangerous Percy looked when vulnerable.
He was staring at her, as if trying to understand why she was still sitting here. Why she hadn't pulled away yet.
The ship slowly descended, until the hull gently skimmed across the surface of the ocean. Percy exhaled slowly, and the water answered. Gentle currents took over, long rolling waves rose beneath the ship, guiding Argo II towards their unknown destination, on a path no one was sure of.
Piper watched the moment carefully, before glancing back at him.
“You do that without thinking too?” she asked.
“Do what?” said Percy, a slight frown on his face.
“The ocean calms down when you do.”
For the first time all night, Percy looked genuinely caught off guard. He glanced over the railing. The waves settled immediately.
“…oh.”
Piper smiled faintly despite herself.
And somehow that tiny reaction—the embarrassment, the surprise, the fact that he genuinely hadn’t noticed—made him feel more human than anything else had tonight.
Below deck, someone shouted Leo’s name.
Metal clanged loudly somewhere in the engine room.
The world resumed around them.
But neither Percy nor Piper moved yet.
And Piper had the strange feeling that if she stood up now, something important would end before either of them understood what it was.
Beside her, Percy rested his forearms against the railing again. Closer than before. Their shoulders brushed briefly this time.
Neither acknowledged it. Far ahead, the Pacific stretched black and endless beneath the stars.
The world below them kept moving:
rivers toward the sea, the Argo II south through the dark.
But beside her, Percy had finally gone still.
And somehow, Piper understood that mattered more than anything either of them had said.