The Hidden Son (Percy Jackson / Marvel's Agents of SHIELD Crossover)

17. Shot Through The Heart (And You're To Blame)

          COULSON FELT BAD.

          He couldn't help but think that this whole thing was entirely his fault. After all, Annabeth wouldn't even have been here if it wasn't for him. She wouldn't be who-knows-where right now. Granted, Mack might still be, but he was a grown man. Annabeth was barely an adult.

          They'd checked the cameras, which had gone dark right about when they'd all split up. They had no leads. It was as if Annabeth and Mack had been simply teleported away—but the evidence proved otherwise. Simmons had concluded the blood spatter on the floor was probably due to ripped stitches, which didn't really clarify who it belonged to, but implied a struggle. Also, the room looked like an angry bull had been let in, so there was that. But still, no leads.

          He felt extra bad as he delivered the news to Percy.

          The poor kid was sitting on his knees outside Mack's treatment room, staring at the blood on the floor as if it was going to give him the answers he so desperately wanted. He looked up at Coulson. His eyes were red and puffy, and he had a dazed look on his face. "No leads, huh?" he said quietly. He pressed his palms to his eyes, wiping his face. "I have to find her. She's. . .she's the world."

Coulson sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can. And we will. We just don't know how at the moment."

"You don't understand," Percy choked out. "She keeps me sane. I don't know. . ." he trailed off, looking lost. "Gods, I don't know. I don't. . .I don't know!" He went from whispering to shouting in a second, and Coulson jumped a little, startled.

"Hey, kid—"

Percy slammed his fists onto the tile floor and screamed in frustration. Somewhere behind them, Coulson heard the faint sound of spraying water. Was the ground shaking a little? He waited for Percy to move again, but he didn't, unless he was counting the rise and fall of his chest, in which case he was moving very quickly.

"Kid," Coulson ventured, "is there anything I can do for you right now?"

The boy in front of him sucked in a breath. "My inhaler," he said, sounding a little panicked. "I left it in the bedroom." His eyes widened. "Oh gods. Annabeth—she doesn't have hers—" He cut off, coughing.

Coulson didn't want to leave him like that, but the bedroom the teens had stayed in last night wasn't far. He wouldn't even be gone a minute.

Percy was still on his hands and knees when he got back. His breathing was considerably worse than before. "I wasn't sure which one was yours," Coulson said, holding out the two nearly identical inhalers he'd found.

Percy just grabbed one and shook it up. He visibly relaxed as the medicine reached his lungs. He took a few more puffs, sitting back on his heels to open up his airway.

          Coulson sat back down onto the floor. He wondered how long the kid had had an inhaler for. Coulson himself needed one when he was young, but he'd grown out of the asthma by the time he was eight. He couldn't imagine living the life he did and not being able to breathe.

         A sad silence hung in the air while they waited for Percy's breath to even out. One shaky breath after another, it did.

        Coulson waited a few more moments before asking. "Are you both asthmatic?"

          Percy let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He stared ahead. Coulson thought he was still looking at the blood on the floor, but he wasn't sure. He could just be zoned out, or looking at the tiles. "My girlfriend and I. . ." Percy stopped, turning the inhaler over in his hands, giving it a resentful glare. "A few years ago we fell into Hell."