The Reluctant Hero

Behind the mask, there lies the pain.

Over the course of the next few weeks Percy gradually got more comfortable around the team. He didn't talk about his past and he didn't share war stories or dreams, he didn't even talk about his PTSD. But he got comfortable with them, he became slightly more friendly, came out of the room they gave him a few days after that first movie night and sometimes cooked meals for the team, always blue.  He listened to their stories, talked about their interests and, most recently, trained in the gyms, once or twice even training with one of them.

It was progress. Great progress. Before the team the Olympian had spent his time hunting monsters (most just ran if they saw him now, if they were smart enough) and simply walking around New York, drifting in and out of proper thought. The team had brought him together, started to regrow and patch the parts of him that had been ripped out and destroyed when his family died.

He was healing. Only a little. And only slowly. And he was left scarred. But he was healing.

And it was good. And Percy was getting closer.

But the team still didn't know anything about the circumstances of the second war or what happened afterwards.

Buy hey. He was getting there.

PERCY P.O.V

I was training in the gym on the common floor.  I'd taken to practising boxing recently. My hand-to-hand had always been good because of my training as a demigod and then my Godly powers improving them, but I'd never tried a specific discipline. Captain Rogers-he keeps telling me to call him Steve-suggested I try out some other techniques beyond 'this is what you do to monsters to survive', for fun  and to improve my technique. Although, as he said, he 'couldn't find any flaws' in it. I almost scoffed at that, though I didn't in front of him, they were great people, but they were always watching me just slightly too closely. They were trying to be subtle, I didn't want to worry them though. Anyway, I'd been trying out various techniques, my experience meant I could grasp the basics quite quickly but the finer points took a few days. Every one of them was worth it, they helped refine my technique amazingly, but I had no-one to practice with and there wasn't really any point.

The people I was learning it for, the people I was learning these things to save were all dead. The only reason I was doing this, the only reason I was doing any of it was to ease the Avengers. It made them happy whenever I did anything positive or productive so I tried to often, they tried to hide it but their concern was palpable.  Maybe one day I could use this skill to protect the young demigods who were left, if I was ever good enough to help them again. Nevertheless, the Avengers were worried about me.

It was......touching. After.....everything, I didn't have anyone who cared for me, not properly, not who were there everyday helping me and laughing with me, so...it was nice to have...to have a team who cared whether I lived or died.

It was stupid to get attached though, I shouldn't. They'll just die eventually and it will hurt all the more. I couldn't help it though. As hard as I tried to stop myself, I kept getting more attached.

THIRD PERSON P.O.V

Percy kept hitting the bag, his internal monologue carrying on throughout. He was careful not to destroy the bag, he only ever did that if his thoughts drifted to dangerous areas......but he tried to avoid that: it never ended well for anyone when bad memories came calling.

"Percy, we're ordering!" Tony called from down the hall. "If you want food get your ass out the gym and come help us decide. We're gonna have Chinese." It'd been a long time since people were comfortable enough to speak to me like that.The ghost of a smile graced Percy's lips as he thought of how long it would've taken the team to decide simply what kind of food they were going to have.