Kidnapped (Percy Jackson & Avengers)

No longer 18

The room was dark and it took a few moments for Percy's eyes to adjust. His skin tingled faintly, but the room was unfamiliar and so were the shoes next to the bed. He could feel the ocean under the boat and faintly hear the lull of a school of fish repeating which direction to the next coral reef. He slid out of bed, stumbling and stepping on something. Looking down he found a tack, but the point was flattened. What? There wasn't even a cut on his foot. His head hurt, his chest hurt and there was something wrapped around his back. Pulling it off he could see dried blood but the mirror showed no spots. Where was his shirt? Did he have one? Faint an orange blob appeared in his mind but he only found a blue shirt. Sliding it on he paused, alert as he heard voices from above, none familiar, all ringing against his ears. 

The two ladies, they were trying to kill him. He couldn't stay in any place long or they'd reform. They didn't stay dead-his sword where was it? He felt the trusty pen, riptide, and tried to grasp at any memory he had. A girl, a girl with blond curls and her name Annabeth. That was all he had to go off of, but he couldn't stay here long, he had to keep moving. To try to find her but stay alive. He opened the door quietly, still hearing voices from down the hall and upstairs. Laughing, and a part of him nudged him towards them. 

"Danger." A whisper seemed to say. "Run. Hide." 

He walked away from the voices until he found another room. This one with a ladder. He moved towards it. 

"Percy." A voice called and he turned towards it, sword out and heart rate already sky rocketing. There was a man in green and gold and Percy felt a wave of nausea as familiarity without memory swept over him. "Do you remember me? Loki? They took away your memory of me. Twisted things and locked me up."

Memory, his memory had been stolen. The voices, the voice in his head had said dangerous but they too had carried the same nauseating familiarity this man had. He didn't move, he didn't know what to do. 

"We have to get out before they come back to check on us. They didn't lock you up because you were injured, but I made sure to heal you." Loki urged, hands grasping the bronze bars in front of him. "We have to hurry." 

They did have to hurry, Lupa had told him never to stay in one place for too long. To head to California. But she never said that he couldn't bring someone's else along. He raised his sword and slashed through the bars, Loki dusted himself off and the two of them climbed up the ladder and emerged on a deck with a tiny row boat. Escape boat? They climbed in and Percy new exactly where they were and exactly how to get to the California shore. And soon the unfamiliar boat was left far behind...

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Grover couldn't explain the weird nausea he felt except for deciding he probably shouldn't have eaten the rusty can. Rust never sat well with his stomach. 

"Still feeling sick?" Annabeth whispered after the second round of crazy uno. 

Grover nodded "it comes in waves, but it's getting fainted. It's still coming but, almost like it's further away." 

"Further away?" "Yeah it's weird, usually when my stomachs upset it stays constantly upset. It's sort of like when..." Grover trailed off, trying to remember exactly when he'd felt this before. 

Nah. Nah, no way right? "Percy, you awake?" Grover asked, but instantly there was too faint of a connection. They hadn't had that faint of a connection since-since, Grover stood abruptly and everyone playing uno stared at him. He could be wrong, he could be totally wrong and Percy could just be really really asleep. "Bathroom?!" Grover said before half running out of the room and down the hall. Skipping the bathroom and heading for Percy's room where he should have felt him getting closer. But instead he felt ever so slightly further away. The door was ajar, Percy was gone, and Grover felt exactly like he had whenever Percy had just woken up from his long Hera induced coma. In fact, Grover reached a hand up and felt his horns were shorted.  Full inch shorter, as if he'd aged backwards a year. 

"ANNABETH."