Home.

(2.3) Percy

Annabeth left a few days after Harry's arrival. She was working on Olympus from Camp Half-Blood as she helped build some new shrines there too. The first week had passed by quietly, yet for the first time in my demigod life, I wished it wasn't quiet. The silence was filled with hidden side glares and eye rolls and long sighs and clenched fists and restless nights on Harry's part.

Throughout the second week, he maintained a smile on his face only when Mom or Paul were looking. He tried to smile around me too, but I always kept prodding at what was bothering him. I knew that avoidance tactic. I practically am that avoidance tactic. Not letting others see how much you're hurting inside, thinking it'll hurt less if you don't face it.

But he became increasingly frustrated the more he tried to smile past his pain. It was as if he wanted to properly cope but couldn't because he didn't know how, which only made him more irritate and less likely to try a healthy coping mechanism. If I knew what he was trying to cope with, then maybe I could help.

As the third week slipped by, almost a whole month, Harry started secluding himself so we wouldn't see how little he smiled. I tried cheering him up with trips to the City, afternoons at Coney Island, spontaneous meals out. Nothing really worked. Sure, he laughed at the time, but the joy never stayed. And eventually, he began to shut me out too. That's when I knew it was time to pry. Well, even more than I was.

I already had some of it figured out. I knew he lost someone, a friend possibly. He had a panic attack when the graveyard was mentioned. He would change the channel every time death was brought up. He asked to avoid all memorials or cemeteries around Manhattan. And he wouldn't tell me about his friends from school. I understood not wanting to talk about school over the summer, but his avoidance of the subject was like Connor avoiding Annabeth when he pulled yet another spider prank on her—that is to say, at all costs.

The unfortunate truth of it was that I could definitely help in this situation. I've faced a lot of deaths. Blamed myself for a few. Indirectly caused a few. I guess the latter one would be connected to blaming myself. The point being that if, no, when he told me, I'd be there for him. I'd be able to understand what he was going through. The only thing to do was get him to open up. Easier said than done.

* * *

"Hey, Harry?" I asked softly.

"What, Percy?" came Harry's sharp reply.

"Let's go to Central Park."

"Why?" Another short reply.

"Because we haven't had lunch there since last summer."

I knew Harry would remember our first time eating lunch in the park. It was when he got a key to the apartment. One of the happiest days in both our lives, I think. It was for me anyway.

Memory lane must've worked because Harry's tone softened. "Fine... can we take some cookies to go?"

I couldn't hold back a grin. I nodded excitedly and dashed into the kitchen for the container. Before Mom could protest, I grabbed Harry's wrist then the pre-packed picnic basket and we dashed out as fast as we could.

When we got to the park, I laid out the blanket as Harry set up the food. We didn't talk much, but that was ok. I caught him staring at a bunch of seemingly random flowers. To anyone else, they would be.

"Red anemones. Sacred flower of Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love." I had on a small, sad smile as I pointed them out.

"They're beautiful. But it's an odd spot of grass. Why there?"

I chose my next words carefully. "There was a girl. A very beautiful and... enchanting girl. She was kind. But she was also fierce. She only wanted to protect those she cared about. One day, she did exactly that. But she did not come out alive. As a memorial to her, friends and family planted those flowers so her sacrifice would always be remembered."

Harry looked at me sadly and then understandingly. "You knew her then? The girl?"

I nodded slowly as I recalled the day in my head. "Yes."

"And you helped plant the flowers?" Harry asked slowly.

"Yes." Again, the memory resurfaced.

Harry was quiet for a while before he asked, "What was her name?"

That was when I smiled a bit. "Silena. Silena Beauregard."

"That's a nice name," he commented. I could tell it was genuine, and I appreciated that.

But in response, I only nodded, not trusting my voice. I came here to help Harry, but in truth, I hadn't figured out all my problems yet either. Regardless, the first step is always recognizing that there is a problem.

I spoke to Harry but kept my gaze on the anemones. "I was really upset when she died. I was angry even." Harry was looking at me now. "I was right beside her. I was right beside her when she died. I- I couldn't save her. And she was only there because I asked her to be. She saved both me and Annabeth that day. And I know the choice... it was hers to make. But I can't deny I had a hand in the outcome. And I know that there was nothing I could've done to save her." I finally looked right into Harry's eyes. "But the pain and guilt are still there. It probably won't ever go away. That's part of the reason I was so reluctant of coming here last summer. This place... I love it, but this place doesn't hold the happiest of memories for me."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "If I'd known..."

"If you'd known I still would've taken you here," I said firmly.

That definitely confused him. "Why?" Harry questioned.

With a sigh, I explained as best I could. "To make new memories. To have good ones that balance out the bad."

Harry was quiet for a long while, but we sat in comfortable silence. Finally, he confessed his own emotions. "I had a friend die this past year. He was murdered. And I didn't stop it. I'm not sure I could have, but I can only focus on the fact that I didn't. And it makes me so angry when people try to pretend to know what it's like to watch a friend's life drain from their eyes. It makes me angry that I could only watch as he was killed. He had so much to live for. He didn't deserve to die."

"Unfortunately, we have as much control over death as the sand has the power to resist the tide."

Harry looked over to me with a small smile. "That was the cheesiest line ever, mate."

We both fell into hysterical laughter as the pent up tension was finally released. Anyone watching us would've thought the scene absurd. The two of us literally rolling around the picnic blanket laughing and knocking over all the food as we spilled the lemonade.

When we both settled down, I turned my attention back to him. "On a more serious note, you can talk to me about anything. I understand wanting to keep some things private or secret even, but I don't want to see you suffer this alone."

"Thanks, Percy. Really. Thank you," Harry said, looking like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

We enjoyed a nice afternoon after that, and Harry's overall mood improved tenfold. Things steadily went back to normal. Well, almost. Over the next month or so, I started to notice some suspicious activity—I was being followed.