Goode is Taken Hostage.

First Encounter.

Mortal P.O.V

It was scary.

Percy Jackson had been the quiet outcast at school, he never really spoke to anyone except Samantha since he came back after being gone for months and between that, ADHD, dyslexia and this new skin condition (which we just learned was a lie), no-one really knew him. Now here we are, sitting in a hospital waiting room, listening to his family talk about his life as a soldier and a leader while he's lying in pain in a freaking coma!

They'd  tried to keep it from us but we'd overheard them; the doctors were worried that if he didn't wake up in the next day he never would. 

The girl, Annabeth, was still crying silently; her face remained stoic but the tears rolling down her face reflected how she was really feeling.

We couldn't really...process...it: it had all happened so fast! One minute we were doing those stupid activities with the teachers, the next, Percy  was being torn apart. It...hurt.

I felt so, so sorry for them. We'd heard them talking about battles and pain and it was amazing how they still managed to laugh about their stories of 'capture the flag' and 'the dinning pavilion'. The atmosphere was strained, but we could see they were making an effort to laugh, their funny stories seemed to be centred on Percy messing up.

It was shocking, seeing the quiet back-of-the-class boy, talked about as a leader and a prankster, impossibly graceful but a clumsy idiot, an astonishing tactician but something called a 'seaweed brain'.

We listened to their stories.

We laughed with them.

And we cried for them.

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Third Person P.O.V

The soldiers were crying. 

Some had fallen asleep, some looked like they couldn't: constantly fidgeting, and others were just staring into the distance, idly running their calloused fingers over old scars and knife hilts.

They'd progressed through sparring, then arguing, then stories and now it was solemn silence as they waited for news on their fallen leader; a few bitter, muttered prayers were heard as they started to lose hope. It would take along time for Hestia and Epis to regain these young hearts, they'd been through enough.

It was 1:37 am, 31 hours into Percy's coma, and all was silent. Still.

Then the doctor walked in.

The demigods snapped to attention and Thalia gently woke Annabeth and Percy's parents.

"Family of Perseus Jackson?" The doctor's voice was scratchy and tired: he'd been awake for 72 hours , prepping, caring for and watching the young boy in his hospital bed.

"Yes! Yes that's us." Annabeth was desperate.

The doctor smiled, after 72 hours of hard work, he smiled.

"He's awake. And he's asking for 'Mom' and someone called 'Annabeth'." He grinned, "Said 'Paul' could tag along too if he wanted." The demigods laughed from pure relief, "Now he's tired, in a lot of pain, no where near out of the woods and his speech isn't the clearest. But he's awake and it's looking better than it has the entire time he's been here." 

Clarisse and Thalia clapped each other on the shoulder, "I told you!"

Sally was crying she was so relieved.

"You can go and see him if you want to. But, um, I have to warn you: he doesn't look great. He has significant scarring and wounds and the bandages don't cover everything." 
Annabeth looked the doctor straight in the eye.

"Sir, I don't care what he looks like. We'll be fine." And with that they got up and walked to Percy's room.

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"Hey...Wise...Gir-rl." 

His voice was scratchy and abused, but it was his.

Annabeth was the first to walk in. So she was the first to see Percy. His usual deep, sun-kissed tan was gone, replaced by the sickly white shade of the injured. His already scarred skin was barely visible anymore. There was a line of fresh stitches travelling from his hairline at his left temple, over his left eyebrow and ending just underneath the closest tip of the right. There was another leading from the bottom of his right ear to his lips which branched off half way through and turned to peter off just underneath his jawline.

He looked so small. The great Savior of Olympus, Killer of Titans, Nemesis of Primordials, Bane of Monsters and Son of Poseidon. He was drowned in the sheets, covered in bandages, hooked up to so many machines it made her body ache in sympathy and obviously in more pain than most people will ever encounter. It wasn't even guaranteed that he'd still survive this.

But he was smiling.

He was smiling at his Wise Girl.

He was smiling at his family.