The Call - A Percy Jackson Fix-it Fic
A Percy Jackson fix-it storyâ a twenty-five year old Percy Jackson finds himself in âthe good lifeâ. Heâs working on his PHD in marine biology, completing an off-shore research project collecting data on endangered sea animals in the Galapagos. He spends his days measuring fish, analysing water samples, playing with whale sharks, and defending against the occasional monster attack. Heâs living the dream life, and yetâ his dreams haunt him every night. Versions of himself he feels slipping away, day by day. He would never complain about his lifeâ the research he gets to do, video chatting with his mom and Estelle on the weekends, running his environmental activism blog, and spending every moment he can in the water. But something just doesnât feel right. This isnât how his life was supposed to turn outâ for better or for worse, he feels like an imposter, getting to spend his days in some alternate reality where demigods get to live normal and fulfilling lives. His feelings turn out to be correct when the fates show up at his work one day, determined to correct the timeline⌠by sending him back to Yancy Academy thirteen years in the past.Â
Percy resigned himself to spend the rest of the school year training with Riptide. He spent every weekend and evening after class in the woods outside his dorm, using trees as training dummies, coming to bed with scrapes and bruises for his efforts. Percy was determined to increase his endurance as much as he possibly could - he knew what was coming, and he was going to be prepared. More often than not, his training sessions ended with him returning soaking wet to his shared roomâ the weather had been strange since the field trip. Hurricanes, thunderstorms, hail⌠Percy silently seethed against Zeusâ toddler-like temper tantrum, giving mortals across the east coast bad weather for weeks on end.Â
Almost as unpredictable as the weather was Grover. Either things had already started to change on this timeline, or Percy was more oblivious the first time than he realised. Everywhere Percy went, Grover seemed to be there, watching him. At breakfast, in Latin class, sitting and watching from the bleachers as Percy ran laps with the PE class⌠Grover had been suspicious enough of Percyâs âstudyâ sessions out in the woods during his free time, but his distaste for the unseasonably bad weather in the Hudson Valley kept him inside.Â
Luckily enough, Groverâs suspicions were assuaged slowly as Percyâs grades crept up. Two of his teachers had accused him of cheating within the span of a month. They had been forced to back down, red-faced and apologetic when Percy explained he was simply utilizing the dyslexic reading aids that were afforded to him as a student with a documented learning disability. Mr. Nicholl's, Percyâs English teacher had been especially surprised and excited when Percy had requested his vocabulary sheets be printed on black paper in white fontâ a common accommodation for dyslexia.Â
In truth, Percyâs grades were only slightly higher thanks to his accommodationsâ he hadnât found a sudden excitement for learning as his teachers seemed to believe, he was simply an adult doing the homework of a middle schooler; It was not challenging to bring his grades up in the least. And just in time for exam prep.
Two weeks before final exams, in the middle of April, Mrs. Kerr made good on the mistâs promise for an Earth Day clean up at Yancy Academy. And so, on a dreary, overcast Friday afternoon in late April, Percy found himself with twenty other delinquents combing through the forest between the school and the river, cleaning up trash and litter strewn about by the previous eveningâs thunderstorm. Percy had found a decent sized stick he used as a skewerâ stabbing empty pizza boxes and crushed soda cans and dropping them into his trash bag. He watched Grover about twenty yards away cleaning up what looked like remnants of a homemade fire pit, muttering under his breath about âtrashy humans, polluting green spacesâ, Percy laughed to himselfâ Grover really was not the best at blending in.Â
As they cleaned, Percy wandered closer and closer to the waters edge. Cleaning up spilled popcorn from the shoreline, he almost jumped when he saw a pair of eyes staring up at him from the murky depths of the river. Percy blinked. The eyes blinked back, slowly. A river Naiad.Â
Hello there. Percy waved, reaching out to the spirit telepathically.Â
Have you come to make another mess? The naiad asked him, tilting her head accusingly.
No. Iâm sorry the mortals have made such a mess here. Iâm trying to clean up what I can. The naiad assessed him silently for a full minute before breaching her head up from the surface. Her skin was gray with a tinge of greenâ like the rocks that covered the riverbank, and she stared up at him, half in wonder, half in fear.Â
Is there more underwater? Percy asked her, questioning it himself as he sent feelers into the Hudson. Like a sonar, they returned to himâ the riverbed was playing home to more trash than he had seen yet. Oh yuck, Iâm so sorry. Hereâ Percy stood up straight and looked around. Grover was nose deep picking pieces of confetti poppers out of a bush and the other students were more than 100-yards away. No one was looking at him. Quickly, he used his control over the river to push the debris; a shopping cart, a dented metal trash-can, a car tire, and a large collection of fast-food bags, to-go containers, and plastic soda bottles to the bank of the river. Percy loaded the tire into the shopping cart, and then the metal trash can into the tire, filling it up with all the smaller food trash.Â
The naiad was looking up at him curiously now, her eyes sparkling. My thanks, young one, he heard her speak in his mind. She waved her hand in his direction towards the shore, sending a shell onto the rocks at his feet. He bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was a pearl shell, somewhat common in this area, but dwindling as invasive species took over. On the inside of the shell, there was an intricate carving of a seahorse and a hippocampus playing. As Percy watched, the carving seemed to move and he had to stare at it extra hard to make sure it wasnât a trick of the light. When he looked back to thank her, he found himself looking into the empty expanse of the waterâ no eyes looked back this time.
âWow, Percy!â Mrs.Kerr exclaimed, walking up next to Grover. âThatâs quite the haul!â Percy smiled at her, quietly tucking the seashell into his pants pocket before anyone could question him about it.Â
Percy spent the next two weeks reciting monsters as he trainedâ their names, history, who had killed them, which ones he had fought before, and what weaknesses he could exploit. He tried to think ahead to what changes he could make â how he could ensure he made the âright choiceâ this time, whatever that meant, but every time he tried to think of what changes he could make, and what possible repercussions he would deal with because of them, his head throbbed. Percy had always been impulsive, intuitive even. He was great in a firefight, or in ambushing monsters. But planning out what felt like ten-steps in the future was some incomprehensible 3D chess game, and Percy couldnât even figure out regular chess. He had found his thoughts chasing each other through his mind when he started trying to think his way out of his motherâs summer trip to Hades. It was these thoughts hounding him as he entered his Latin final exam on the last day of class.Â
The three-hour exam wasnât half as hard as Percy remembered it to be. He was sure his dyslexia had made for a few interesting spelling errors, but had correctly identified the difference between Charon and Chiron, and had listed and explained all of Hercules labors (some really werenât that bad, Cerberus was honestly a sweetheart who just wanted someone to play with). On his way out the door, Mr. Brunner cleared his throat and called him back.Â
âPercy,â he said. âIâm encouraged by your growth since Christmas. Yancy will be lucky to have you back next year.â His tone was kind, his eyes twinkling, but Percy was still embarrassed, his face and ears growing hot under the unexpected praise. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other students finishing the test could still hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at him and made kissing motions with her lips. Percy almost laughedâ while he wouldnât argue with her that his grades turning around was suspicious, he wasnât a brown nosed, especially not with Mr. Brunner, or Chiron for that matter. He respected him, but found his ideology on the gods flawed. Then again, Chiron still feared the godsâ Percy did not.Â
âI appreciate it, Sir, but I will not be returning to Yancy next year.â Percy mumbled quietly, hanging his head to look at his shoes. Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasnât sure what to say.Â
âOh? Is there somewhere else youâll be heading?â He asked, curiously.Â
âThis isnât the right place for me,â Percy replied, echoing what Mr. Brunner had said to him the last time they had this conversation, âIâm heading somewhere my dad wants me to goâ I think itâs a year-round type of thing, so I wonât be coming back to Yancy in the fall.â The gears were already turning in Percyâs head. He had zero desire to deal with mortal schooling a second time aroundâ heck he hadnât wanted to do it the first time, not until college when he was able to learn about things he was actually interested in. It couldnât be that hard to get âhomeschoolingâ set up for him next year. That would allow him to spend more time with his mom, and eventually Paul and Estelle, without sacrificing his future. Besides, homeschooling had to look better on paper than the D and F report cards he had scraped by with previously.Â
Mr. Brunner looked positively puzzled, âOh. Right⌠That sounds like a good idea. This is a school your father wants you to go to?âÂ
âNot exactly a school, but Iâll be homeschooling during the offseason.â Percy replied, trying hard not to look Mr. Brunner in the eye lest he start laughing.
âI see.â Mr. Brunner replied, stroking his beard, lost in thought. Percy took the opportunity to scoot towards the door.
âAnyway, thanks for the great year, Mr. Brunner!â He said before zooming out of the room.
âWait, Percyââ Mr. Brunner called after him, but Percy was already gone, making his way to the dorms to finish packing.Â
On the last day of term, Percy loaded his suitcase onto the greyhound bus destined for Manhattan alongside Grover. He kept riptide in his pocket as always, and kept a backpack with his essentials with himâ one too many times being separated from his unmentionables after sudden monster attacks had made him an efficient carry-on packer. During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. Heâd always acted nervous and fidgety when they left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happenâ which something, more times than not, did usually end up going bad.Â
âNo kindly ones here, Grover.â Percy said quietly in his ear.Â
Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. âWha-what do you mean?â
âYou know, I am a lot smarter than most people give me credit for. Actually-â Percy stopped, mid-thought. â I think my Mom is the smart one. Iâm only smart because I listen to her.â
Groverâs eye twitched in recognition. âHow much did she tell you?â
âEverything she knewâ or could guess at.â Percy replied, lying smoothly. While his forward thinking in changing the timeline had been a hill he could not climb, he had been careful about what he said, to both Grover and Chiron. Everything he had let slip he knew about was something that Sally arguably could have told him; The existence of the Greek world, the furies (Alecto whom he had fought), and who he was. These are all things Sally knew about.Â
Groverâs ears turned pink. âLook, Percyââ From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. âTake this, okay? Just in case you need me this summerâ or need a safe place to land.â He eyed Percy seriously.Â
âAh.â Percy said, accepting the business card and giving it a quick once-over. âThis is the place my dad wants me to go.â He stuffed the business card into the front pocket of his backpack, missing the strange look Grover gave him.
âYou knowâ youâre in contact with your father?â He asked, voice straining on a note of surprise.Â
Percy winced. âNot exactlyâ he told my mom about the place. She hasnât wanted me to go there, though.â Percy smiled, thinking about his momâ about how she wanted to keep him close. Fates be damned, he was not going to let his mother go to Hades this timeâ he owed her that much, hell he owed her everything, but this was something he could change. This was something he knew how to change now.
Grover cleared his throat, not meeting Percyâs eyes. âMaybe itâs time for you to go. With what happened on the field trip.â He looked down at his shoesâ oversized sneakers Percy knew to be hiding his hooves.Â
âMaybe.â Percy answered, pretending to mull it over. âBut I want to spend some time with my mom. I havenât seen her since Christmas. If Iâm going to spend all summer there, I want to see her first.â Grover only hummed in response. Right on cue, there was a loud grinding noise coming from the bottom of the bus. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed loudly and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.
After a few minutes clanking around the engine compartment, the driver announced that all passengers needed to deboard temporarily. Grover and Percy dutifully followed the line of irritable travelers off the bus and onto the side of the highway. Grover eyed the litter-filled ditch mournfully. The bus had stopped on a stretch of country roadâno place youâd notice if you didnât break down there. On their side of the highway maple trees lined the ditch, blocking the view of houses from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.
The stuff on sale looked mouth watering: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting a large pair of socks Percy recognised from last time.Â
The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarnâLukeâs lifeline Percy remembered. A memory resurfaced of May Castellan, Lukeâs mom, lamenting her sonâs terrible fate. Percy commiserated with her. Luke had so much potential⌠and for what? Made into a lackey for the powerful titan, Kronos. Percy shook his head, clearing himself from his stupor. He was determined to learn from his mistakes, including not sampling the delicious looking cherries the Fates had for sale.
âTell me theyâre not looking at you. They are, arenât they?â Groverâs voice was barely above a whisper.
âWell, I am definitely looking at those cherries. Be right back!â Percy took off at a sprint.
âPercy, wait-âGrover called after him, but Percy was already darting across traffic. A driver honked at him as he made it to the other side of the highway, whether it was the mist changing the mortalâs perception or just the New York level of apathy keeping drivers from stopping, Percy did not know.Â
Percy gave a quick bow when he made it to the stand. âLadiesâ Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos.â He greeted them all respectfully. Lachesis raised an eyebrow at him, but all three ladies remained silent. âRight. Iâm not sure exactly what I am supposed to be changing. The directions you gave werenât exactly clearâŚâ Atropos gave him a look that could only mean how can one mortal be so dumb? âBut thatâs fine, you knowâ learn as you go! Always been my motto.â Percy was nervous, addressing the three fates personally, especially in the body of his twelve-year-old self.Â
âAnyway, the cherries look delicious, so Iâm just gonna help myself.â Percy dug around in his backpack and quickly swapped a carton of cherries with a ten dollar bill. âThanks! Stay safe out there!â He ran back across the highway, being mindful not to spill the cherries on his way. If the Fates were baffled by this behaviour, they didnât show it.Â
Grover was fuming when he returned. âNot funny, Percy. Not funny at all.â
The old lady in the middle, Atropos, took out a huge pair of scissorsâgold and silver, long-bladed, like shears.Â
Grover gasped, his voice caught in his throat. âOn the bus. Weâre getting on the bus.â
âWhat?â Percy asked, leisurely popping a cherry into his mouth. The taste was sweet and tart at the same time and oh so juicyâ the Fates really should have made the fruit stand their full time gig, they could make bank selling fruit this delicious. Grover stared at him open-mouthed and dumbfounded.Â
Across the road, the ladies were still watching Percy. The middle one cut the yarn, the resounding snip cutting clear across four lanes of traffic. Her friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving Percy wondering once again who they were knitted for. Zeus, perhaps? In his full-godly form of twenty feet tall might fit them, Percy pondered silently, still munching on the cherries.Â
At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life. The passengers cheered.
âDamn right!â Yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. âEverybody back on board!âÂ
Once the bus got going, Percy offered Grover a cherry. He was looking feverish, as if he caught the flu, shivering and chattering his teeth.
âGrover?â Percy asked, raising the carton of cherries between them. Grover hummed in response, taking a cherry and nibbling on it. His expression was hard to read.
âI donât want it to be like the last time.â He finally mumbled, stuffing the pit of the cherry in his own backpack, no doubt with plans to plant it later. Percy thought that was a good idea and did the same with his pits.
âI donât know what happened last time, Grover.â Percy started carefully. âBut Iâm tougher than I look.â Grover caught his eye and Percy couldnât help but wink at him. The two broke down into a fit of laughter.
