Chapter Text
Collections/Challenges: Whumptober, Day 7 (+16 and 17)
Prompt(s): “Tell me that you’re okay, and I’m fine.” | Trapped With the Enemy | Pushed Beyond Breaking Point, “I’ve had the rug pulled beneath my feet.” | Disorientation, Bedside Vigil
Character(s): Jason, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, minor—Will
Rating: Teen
Summary: Jason’s been missing for two months and Percy’s only known for a few weeks. He’s been searching everywhere for his friend but despite everything he was doing, it all felt useless.
That was until Nico showed up with some valuable information. Even if he had a heart attack in the process, Percy didn’t care. He could only hope Jason would still be okay (and mentally sound) when they found him.
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Percy was trying his hardest not to freak out.
They’d been looking tirelessly for nearly three weeks. Three weeks! Ever since that iris message had come through… Percy hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t stop—and he sure as Hades wouldn’t stop now.
He still remembered that day, that stupid message. Jason, bound to a wall and covered in his own blood. Jason, pale, thin, too skinny, gaunt. Jason, screaming. Jason, beaten black and blue with a metal pipe. Jason, stabbed and cut. Jason, burned—almost branded. The taunting, the humiliation, the degradation.
The audacity that his torturer had—that stupid little bitch—was insane.
Percy never wanted to kill someone more in his life.
At the same time, Percy’s never been more worried for someone’s immediate safety. (Yes, even more so than when his mother was vaporized or when Annabeth was taken by Luke. At least Luke and Hades weren’t torturing them over an iris message and projecting it to the entirety of Camp Half-Blood during dinner of all things.)
He could still remember the silence that had fallen over the camp when the iris message broke off. Those few seconds before all hell broke loose, tense, charged with emotions so high strung Apollo would’ve had a field day untangling them all.
He remembered the younger campers screaming, some crying—he remembered at least two more darting off to vomit in the grass. He remembered Chiron and Mr D, both looking greener than Percy had ever seen them.
He remembered the people who couldn’t do anything more than stare, blankly. Shell shocked. Pale. Traumatized from what they’ve seen, terrified for their comrade.
He remembered the look he shared with Nico. That was their friend—their brother—and they knew in that moment that they would stop at nothing to save him.
They’d held an emergency meeting not even five minutes later. (Most of the camp counsellors had been too sick to finish their food, anyway.) They’d organized and sent out search parties that day but finding Jason was no walk in the park. It wasn’t even a walk in the country. If anything, it was like a sprint in space. They didn’t know where to start, where to look. They didn’t even know if Jason was alive.
(The idea of Jason dying again was so disturbing to him that Percy almost stabbed the person who pointed it out.)
The first and only thing they knew was the demigods name—Cameron—courtesy of Reyna. Percy’s first thought was that it sounded like a bitchy name for a son of Mars, and honestly, he stood by that.
Still, Percy searched tirelessly. After a week, their volunteer numbers had dwindled. After two, no one outside of the 7 and the hunters were looking. Not even New Rome, who hadn’t even sent out search parties despite Hazel and Frank’s best efforts.
Everyone else was convinced he’d died again; no one wanted to waste time on something impossible.
(That fact only made Percy more murderous.)
To him, it felt like no one cared. They hadn’t looked for more than two weeks before everyone gave up.
(A small part of his brain pointed out that this had happened before. When Jason had first gone missing back during the war with Gaea—no one looked for him, no one cared enough. It was happening all over again and it was sickening to watch.)
So Percy refused to give up. Even if he was the only one left looking, he wouldn’t stop. He’d scour the entire planet if he had to. And he would, and Jason would still be alive. If Jason was still alive in the iris message he must still be alive now. Cameron was planning something, he just didn’t know what.
He finally finished searching through a series of abandoned houses right on the border between California and Nevada. In Nico’s words, it was “a perfect place to hide someone”, close enough to where Jason had been living, run down, gloomy. But Percy didn’t find anything.
He screamed, kicked the closest piece of debris across the room, screamed again while he resisted the urge to tear out his hair. He was tired, hungry, he wanted to go home and sleep.
You don’t think Jason wants to do that? His mind said back. He’s been trapped and tortured for god knows how long, and you’re, what? Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself? Grow up, get it together. Jason needs you.
He knew the voice was right, but he was terrified. What if he never found him? What if he was on the verge of death as he spoke? What if he was going through something horrifying and Percy missed it because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time?
Jason was trapped with this enemy they’d never fought, someone who survived being killed and clearly hated him. Even if Jason had killed Cameron—it was a war! Percy didn’t believe his claims about not wanting to harm Jason for one second. If you love someone, it doesn’t matter what they do to you—you’d never want to kill them. Torture them. Not the way Cameron had.
(He shivered just thinking about it. God—there had been so much blood.)
Cameron’s hatred ran deep. Deeper than Jason killing him. He’d probably hated him the entire time they knew each other—there was no way he hadn’t.
But still, knowing that didn’t help him. It didn’t bring Jason back. It didn’t teleport Percy to Jason’s location. It didn’t help them with fuck all.
”Shit.” He muttered sharply, pressing his hand to his forehead. “Shit. Fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK!”
He threw his sword, watched it cut through drywall before clattering somewhere behind it. A room Percy had already turned inside out.
He dropped to his knees, holding his head with a frustrated yell. He could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He was tired. He’d hardly slept the last few weeks and he only remembered to eat when he was at home. He’d been doing nothing but searching, and he was getting close to the end of his rope.
“Fucking hell Grace,” he muttered, choking on a sob. “Where are you?”
Like a godsend (or a really crazy coincidence) an iris message appeared in front of him. Annabeth. His gorgeous girlfriend.
He wiped his eyes, standing up as quickly as he could. “Any luck?”
She gave him a sad smile and Percy’s heart dropped, already knowing what the answer was. “Not on my end.”
He groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “We’ve searched everywhere. I swear they’re not even in California anymore.”
”You might actually be right about that.” Annabeth said. Percy only snorted. “Great. That just leaves the whole rest of the world.”
”Or Colorado.” A different voice, coming from right behind him, said. Percy jumped, definitely didn’t scream, and held a hand over his chest while he stared down the son of Hades with a look that could kill gods.
”What the fuck—” he gasped, standing upright after a moment. “Is wrong with you.”
Nico just shrugged, a small smirk on his face. “Alphabetically or chronologically?”
”You need therapy.” Percy muttered. Nico just laughed, which didn’t help Percy’s annoyance at all.
“Speak for yourself, Jackson.”
He rolled his eyes with a small huff, looking at Nico with slightly less murder in his eyes. “I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to give me a heart attack, so what gives?”
”I have news on Jason.”
”WHAT?”
Percy looked back at Annabeth—who was still on the iris message—and was suddenly very thankful that he wasn’t Nico. “You were here two minutes ago and you didn’t tell me—?”
”I needed to grab Percy. Besides, this way you find out together.” He grinned, spreading out his arms like it was the best thing in the world.
Percy felt his eye twitch. “The news? Is it good or bad?”
Nico huffed and dropped his arms. “Good. I have a source who’s told me that he’s being held in Colorado, some old family home.”
”And what source would that be, exactly?” Annabeth asked snarkily. Nico didn’t say anything else, just grinned.
Percy, personally, didn’t care. Nico had his ways and all he cared about was the information he provided. He felt around his pocket for the sword he’d thrown and smirked the second he felt his pen. Turning back to Nico, he grabbed his upper arm with the determination of someone who was running on two hours of sleep and four energy drinks—which he was. “Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s go.”
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Jason didn’t remember much from the last few days. It was all a mix of shifting colours, disembodied voices and melting walls. Half the time he didn’t know what was going on, where he was—who he was. The other half was spent delirious, feverish and weak. Clawing at memories, repeating specific phrases—trying to keep his fragile grasp on reality.
He was just lucid enough to know that Cameron was drugging him, and that was it.
In a way, it was so much worse than the physical torture. At least he knew where he was, even if he was bleeding and in pain. At least he wasn’t hallucinating, talking to ghosts while the sensation of bugs crawling under his skin kept him awake at night.
At least he knew his own name.
He’d been dosed too many times—more than twice, he knew. But he wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, how many days it’s been since the first vial.
For all he knew it could’ve been the same day.
He was sat in front of the wall, back to the cement while his head lolled to the side. There was something dripping, echoing around the room—but it sounded distorted. Fake. Still, his head spun with every noise and his stomach rolled with rising nausea.
When he saw it—heard it, the movement, shadows, voices calling his name, he didn’t think much of it. Told himself it was the leftover hallucinations. Kept staring blankly across the room, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
That’s when he heard it. Loud. Furious.
“Where is he?”
It sounded like Percy, but that couldn’t be right. Percy didn’t know where he was. There was no way to find him… there was no way he could’ve found him… right?
The sound of metal clanging filled his ears, screaming—raw and vengeful, then silence.
Jason paused for a moment, confused, then he heard it.
“Jason?”
His breath caught in his throat, that—that sounded just like Percy. But it couldn’t be—could it?
He waited, listening, straining his ears for anything, but all he heard was silence. After a minute he convinced himself that it had been nothing but his mind playing tricks on him.
Then he heard it again, closer this time.
“Jason? Jason!”
His heartbeat quickened, stomach lurching painfully. That was definitely Percy.
Not even two seconds later there was banging at the door, vicious and aggressive. Within a second the door was broken down, four figures he couldn’t quite make out spilling into the room.
He blinked sluggishly as they ran over. His vision was still blurry, the edges swirling sickeningly. It felt like a dream and they seemed fake, too shiny, too plastic.
“Jason, oh thank god.” A woman’s voice, Annabeth. But… that couldn’t really be her, could it? “Jason, can you hear me?”
There was a hand on his face, smaller, smooth. They turned his head, propping it upright. He felt like he was on the worst rollercoaster of his life. His world tilted on its axis and everything started shifting in front of him. The features on Annabeth’s face, the walls—everything. He could barely keep his eyes open.
“Not real,” he muttered, trying to pull his head out of her hold and failing. “Not… real.”
There was a terse silence, tense. The hands left his face and he didn’t care, just stared at the wall.
He knew it was really Cameron. It would be just like him to do this—it’s not like he hadn’t done something similar before. If he could look like Caligula, Piper—was Annabeth really a stretch?
He tried to take a deep breath, wheezing instead. He could feel his chest rising and falling sporadically, feel the scratch marks he’d left on himself burning. He could hear shuffling, a zipper opening, more talking that he didn’t bother to understand.
There were new hands on his face, warm, calloused. Familiar.
Percy.
“Jason? Can you look at me?”
He tore his eyes away from the cement, let them drift over to meet his. He sucked in a sharp breath and his chest ached with disappointed hope. It looked just like him.
“There we go,” he said, smiling softly. Jason just blinked, still in disbelief. His voice sounded far away despite being right there, like Jason was held underwater. “We need to get you up, is that okay?”
He blinked again, slowly, then he looked down at his ankles, where the shackles were still on tight. Percy looked down and grimaced, looking back up at someone behind him.
“Nico, can you go see if Cameron had a key on him?”
Someone agreed and Jason looked up just as “Nico” walked out. His eyes kept staring at that spot, still picturing the figure. He couldn’t be real. He couldn’t.
There was talking again, another voice that sounded strangely like Will. “You’re safe now Jason, it’s okay, we’ve got you.”
Safe. Okay. Yeah, sure he was. He was safe just like when Cameron first drugged him. Okay like when he was stabbed. Those words didn’t mean anything to him but pain and suffering.
He dragged his eyes back to Percy, who was still holding his face. He was looking at him, trying to make sense of this in his brain. That’s when he noticed it, the thin trickle of blood on his cheek.
“You’re bleeding.” He murmured softly, staring at the wound. He almost wanted to reach out and touch it, prove that it was real and not another one of Cameron’s tricks. He didn’t though, too scared of what he might find.
“Don’t worry about me.” Percy replied. Jason almost forgot what they were talking about despite staring straight at the wound.
“You okay?” He said again, softly. He looked up and locked eyes with Percy, trying not to get too attached to this delusion. But at the same time…it looked so much like Percy, he couldn’t help it.
“Just tell me that you’re okay, and I’m fine.” Percy said, giving him a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes. It looked strained. Wrong. Jason only hummed. Well, he wasn’t okay, so that must be why vision Percy wasn’t either.
“We don’t have time for this, we need to move him now.” A voice—Nico? Was he back already?
He didn’t notice the hands disappearing from his face, vaguely registered the sound of the chains clinking together. He leant his head back towards the wall, silent and waiting for the rug to get pulled out from beneath him.
“He doesn’t even look like he can stand, let alone walk out of here. Give him a minute.” A voice that sounded exactly like Annabeth stated sharply.
“We could shadow travel—“
“No way, what if that pushes him over the edge?” A voice closer to him than the other two, so close he almost jumped. It was familiar, but less so than the others. He felt like he should know it—like he had known it, but the information was slipping through his fingers like water.
“Exactly, he’s already gone through things no human should have to go through.” Annabeth again, agreeing with the previous voice.
“Okay, no offence, but he’s been long past his breaking point. I doubt shadow travel will do much more than that bitch already has.”
Jason frowned at that, barely making out what they were saying. He may be hurt, but—… he wasn’t…broken, was he?
“So you’re going to put him in more danger?”
“If it means getting him back to camp faster then yeah—“
“Well you didn’t seem to be in that much of a rush earlier!”
Someone gasped dramatically but Jason didn’t know who, all he cared about was that the voices were getting louder. Meaner. That and there were hands touching him now, his arms, his torso, his legs. Too much. Pulling. Checking. Hurting.
He couldn’t do this.
There was someone talking near him, asking him where it hurt, to hang on—he tried to focus on them instead but the others were so loud. Mean. Fake. They sounded like Cameron. They were acting like Cameron.
Who was Jason kidding, they probably were Cameron.
“So I could tell you both at the same time, Chase! Don’t you even—“
“You could’ve told me, it would’ve taken two seconds! And I’m not taking any chances with him—“
“He’s stronger than he looks!”
“He’s been tortured for two months!”
Jason couldn’t take it, the voices—everything was too much. He wanted to hide, to run, cry. But the stupid hands on his body didn’t let him.
“GUYS!” Someone screamed. Too close, too close, go away— “Stop fighting. You’re freaking him out.”
Someone touched something on his side and gods, it hurt. He let out a whimper, trying to curl in on himself. This was too much—everything was too much. He could still smell the acrid stench of sweat and blood, feel the dirt and grime covering every inch of his body, could hear their breathing, talking, shifting. Everything felt like a knife in his ears, stabbing and grating. He wanted it to stop. He wanted everything to stop.
He felt something, a hand on his. Real. Firm. Warm. He let out a choked noise, wounded and raw.
“Jason?”
He looked over, locked eyes with Percy. He was still breathing too harsh, too rapid. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s me, it’s Percy. You’re safe, Jason, I promise. Just breathe, okay?”
He was shaking his head, but he couldn’t look away. “No.” He said, strangled. “No—you’re not real.”
Percy looked behind him, shared a look with someone, but Jason was analyzing his face. Could they really be here? Was this a trick or was this real?
Nothing looked real anymore. He didn’t know. Couldn’t tell.
“Jason, I promise I am.”
Jason sucked in a breath. “I’ve… I’ve been tricked too many times.” His voice was cracking but he didn’t dare stop. “How do I know this isn’t… another hallucination?”
The faces behind Percy looked devastated (fake, shiny, unreal—) but Percy only looked determined. “Because I’ll be right here when you wake up tomorrow, that’s why.”
His body screamed at the word sleep, aching. He was so tried; he wasn’t even sure when the last time he slept was.
“Okay.” He said, because even if it was fake, maybe he could just pretend for a few minutes. Pretend this was really happening. That he was finally safe. Even if he knew he’d be right back here tomorrow—he’d let them pretend if it made them feel better.
“Okay.” Percy smiled in front of him. “We need to get you moved, alright?”
Jason just barely nodded before there were hands on him, helping him stand. Everything was spinning, he was dizzy and multicoloured spots were tap dancing across his vision.
Someone grabbed his ribs too hard and he yelped. There was more sounds, movement. Someone was hissing insults, someone else was freaking out. He didn’t know. His brain couldn’t keep up.
His brain hurt too much, and before he could say anything—do anything, his body shut itself down, dead weight in their hands as everything went black.