The Parenthood Drabbles

Words

Words

In the style of Various

What did you give tired, somewhat pissed-off and completely worn out heroes as a reward? There had to be something, but the 'what' was always the question.

In this case the 'what' was easy. 'How' was harder. Enough rules of life and death, right and wrong and the universe's general functioning had been annihilated and crushed during the last week. But if there was one thing gods were good at, it was at sneaking around rules and fate and destiny. So that was how Emily Zhang and Esperanza Valdez were holding their sons in the throne room of the gods. Or so Piper figured.

Emily had to stand on her toes to be anywhere near Frank's height. Her hands were on his cheeks and she was examining his face, his arms, his legs trying to see if he was hurt from the final battle or trying to figure out where all these muscles had come from.

Esperanza held him no problem, Leo barely reached her shoulders. He just closed his eyes against her chest and let her rock him. She played with his hair and peppered his forehead with kisses when she happened to brush it clear.

"Mom, god," Leo said shutting his eyes. She put a hand in front of his lips and shook her head.

"Don't you worry about it, mijo. Don't you even dare worrying about it."

"Careful," Pluto said. The god of death stood.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frank asked.

"We can't... They can't be fully present or else we break a few rules that the last few months have been all about reinstating."

"So?" Percy asked. The rest of the seven watched anxiously.

"So they're missing something," Annabeth deduced.

Emily nodded vigorously and she put her fingers on her lips.

"Can't talk?" Frank asked.

"You can," Pluto said. "Somewhat. But there's a quota of words."

"Care to share said quota?" Leo muttered.

"The number of months for which they've been dead," Pluto said.

"69," Leo said way too quickly for anyone to feel at ease.

"Four," Frank said hoarsely. Emily ran her hand through his hair, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

Esperanza sighed and opened her mouth.

"Listen closely because I can't say this twice. Leo you are my son, I love you, and there has never have been anything else. I love you so much, but don't take the world on your shoulders. What happened to me wasn't your fault."

Leo shook his head and wiped the corners of his eyes.

Esperanza put her hand on his chin and tilted his head up.

"I swear. Move on."

"I tried Mom," Leo said. "But it's hard to leave you behind."

Esperanza shook her head.

"Won't happen. Build me something good. Okay, mijo?"

Leo's throat seemed to clog up. He was seeing his mother again, it had been a long and draining day, he was being reassured ghosts were mere poltergeists by someone whose authority on the subject he could respect and for the second time in his life he was hearing his mother's voice for the last time.

Piper was blinking back tears herself, and there wasn't any face that wasn't solemn.

"You should see the Argo II," Leo finally said. "You'd love it, Mom."

Esperanza nodded. She'd run out of words.

Leo's hands got at it again, rubbing the corners of his eyes. His breath was choppy.

"You'd love the way the engine works, you always said that gas was a bad idea. And you will never guess was the wires are made out of."

Esperanza's eyebrows scrunched up, like she was thinking.

Leo laughed a bit. "Don't even try Mom, you just won't. Some of the tools they've got in the forges... You'd have loved them. And the... the mast head... Gods, I wish I could show you."

Esperanza opened up her arms and gave Leo a hug. She patted him on the back. If it weren't for late night confessions in the forge, nobody would have recognised it as the Morse code it really was.

Piper's heart tightened a bit. What was Esperanza telling Leo? I love you? Stay strong?

Eyes shifted towards Emily Zhang. Her eyes were mournful, and the precision with which she'd had to pick her words was like an ache. Did that make real life an ache? No, of course not. Words were just spat out regularly and infinitely in real life. There was no care in them.

She took Frank's hands.

"Sorry," she said giving him a pointed look. She put a hand on the patch on her uniform's arm, the Canadian flag.

Frank shook his head. "Don't Mom. I get it."

Emily gave him a look.

"Okay, now I get it. Not before, but now I do." Frank said. "It wasn't just your job, it was your duty. You had to do it, just like I'd have had to jump on a bomb if it fell in the middle of this throne room and would just blow up these guys," he said nudging his head towards the others who'd sailed in the Argo II. "You saved a bunch of people too."

Emily's eyes didn't change. It was for the times that he hadn't understood that she was sorry, and even now that he understood because of the things he'd had to go through to get it.

"Proud," Emily said holding his hand. She touched the Centurion medal on his chest, the bandage on his arm and his cheek again to show what exactly she was proud of.

Frank didn't say anything.

"Love you." She said with a small, sad and hopeful smile.

"Love you too, Mom." Frank said hugging her again. For a while it was just frozen hugs in the middle of the throne room. Hair was ruffled one last time before they had to be taken back to the underworld.

From that day on if you were to find a demigod using words unjustly, saying too much or too little, saying things that were not meant, or that didn't have to be said: you knew that they had not been on the Argo II, nor had they been in that throne room.