Aroma ~ A Percabeth Story (ongoing): Book 3 - Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Three ~ PERCY

Chapter Twenty-Three
PERCY

Esme wrung her hands nervously. "Should we... wake him up?"

Nero nodded. "It's okay, Es. He'll be okay. Come on."

Tentatively, Esme knelt by the body. She shook his shoulder, and nothing happened. She shook it again.

In the end, Nero leant over and punched the man's face. He sprung up, yelling out, until he saw the two anxious faces of the fifteen-year-old twins.

"Oh, my gods," he whispered. "It's you two."

Nero gulped. "Hello... Dad."

The moment that passed was the longest moment Percy had ever felt as he drunk in the sight of his two children, the two people who he was supposed to love unconditionally and protect with his entire life. Two children who he'd let down, two people who had relied on him and he'd failed. Two people who he remembered but didn't remember, who he loved but didn't remember loving, who he had no clear memory of. They were hazy, like a static TV, a show that was dying to break through but couldn't quite make the connection.

Suddenly, Esme threw herself at him in a tight hug. Percy hesitantly wrapped his arms around his daughter. She had a sweet musky smell, and he felt her cold tears on his neck, her body slight and warm in his arms. He felt something surge through him - it wasn't quite love, or even affection, because he couldn't wholly remember it. But this was his daughter. His little girl.

The moment ended, and Esme pulled away, looking concerned. "Dad?"

Percy cleared his throat and gently shuffled back. His face stung from Nero's punch. But the boy himself stood back, observing the situation.

"You still don't quite remember us. Do you?" Nero asked. He didn't sound too surprised.

Percy shook his head, and looked again at Esme, who appeared to be devastated. "Um... no. Listen, I - I know I'm your dad, okay? And... I know that whatever this all is, it'll come back to me. In time. But until then, can you guys call me Percy? For now? Please?"

Esme wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Whatever," she snapped. She walked away to stand by Nero's side, facing the wall, looking anywhere but at her father. And that hurt Percy, perhaps more than the punch.

"Nice right hook, there," Percy commented.

Nero's expression didn't change. "I'm a lefty," he said calmly. "And I'm a pretty good fighter, now."

"You've got a lot of strength." Percy sighed. "More than I have right now."

He analysed the two of them. Esme was skinny, very skinny, her cheeks hollow and her hair dry and limp. She seemed to have recovered from the major injuries she'd received as Carlie Oswald from the unknown monster, and returned to this world, emaciated and battered. Her face was a mass of cuts and scratches, and she had a black eye and a badly cut lip. Her grey top was baggy and full of holes, her jeans torn, and she was missing a white sneaker. Her shoeless foot seemed to be injured as she walked with a slight limp.

Nero seemed worse for wear, looks-wise, but he was definitely the one keeping them strong. He had a hideous large scar along his left cheek, stretching from his eye to his chin, an ugly red welt. His face was covered in filth and grime, his grey eyes hollow and scared. The red tee he wore was shredded, even worse than Esme's, but his knee-length denim shorts seemed to have remained intact. The dark scruffy hair that was identical to Percy's was more haywire than anybody's he'd ever seen.

There was no doubting they were Percy and Annabeth's children; Esme had Percy's sea-green eyes that dared you to fight and were cheeky, and she had her mother's dirt-blonde locks that were curly and brilliant and bounced off her shoulders, except they were rather dead on Esme right now.