#post-boo

[fuckprophecys]

"what about us"

That was the sentence that woke Percy up from his nightmare, that late October night. The clock read 04:30 in blood red brightness, blinking occasionally.

He whipped the sweat that formed on his forehead, taking a deep breath. Across the room, his window had a break in the curtains, and the lights from Never-Sleeping New York broke in.

Each passing night, he became more like the city: Busy, always Awake, full of events all happening at once.

"What About Us?"

Silena had been in his dream this time. Young, sweet, burning eyes of passion. She was holding Clarisse's helmet.

It's only been roughly a year, but it still haunts him. His friend laying on the ground, not moving.

Percy got up and walked out of his room and into the hallway bathroom, flipping on the light. His eyes were bloodshot and had bags bluer than his mood.

"what about us?" He whispered before sinking into the bathtub, slowly turning on the water. "what happens to heroes when it gets too much?"

He fell back asleep shortly after filling up the tub, lukewarm water hugging his body. His mom found him the next morning.

[lerudan]

So, we all agree that the nine, especially Percy and Annabeth, would need some downtime after BOO. And definitely some therapy to learn to live with their PTSD. I assume, most Campers allways did, but not in the severity the war and tartarus induced.

But, as we remember Chris Rodriguez, after being found in the labyrinth, was described "mad". I don't really appreciate that word, and it's mostly used for people who have been under such great mental stress, that they developed, for as strange seeming, coping mechanisms.

So, if we think of it that way, Mr. D helped Chris heal from the experiences in the labyrinth.

Why shouldn't he do that for the campers he has to protect?

It's in some ways a cheap way out, but damn do they deserve an easy way out of the perils the gods made them live through. And even if PTSD and whatnot they now have are not his kind of "madness", Apollo ought to have a child excelling at mental health.

I don't want to start a war about this, and I'm sorry, if my wording is off. I'm not really used to write English. Just my two cents.

[fuckprophecys]

"what about us..."

Nico found himself on the side of the road, sometime around 2 in the morning. His jacket around his shoulders, attempting to block out the late October chill.

The nightmares weren't fun to deal with. He tried sleeping, but everytime he woke up at different parts of the world. His powers acting up to attempt to take him away from a fake danger.

"What about us?" Bianca was always someone he looked up to. His guide. His goal for what he wanted to be when he grew up.

She left him for a life of adventure. He wasn't bitter about it. She told him she would always come back. She was going to live forever.

Forever came too close too soon.

Nico looked up at the sky.

He remembered all the people he looked up to. Percy. Annabeth. Now they were all haunted with pasts too dark for anyone to know.

And there they were. Thousands of miles apart. Lost ships waiting to collide. Owls looking for a place to land. The restless undead memories.

Nico pulled out his phone and typed out a message to an empty group chat.

"What about us," he read aloud as he tapped the tiny buttons. "We're still heroes, we should help each other out when it gets too much."

The next hour he spent yawning, waiting for a text back. Before long, he curled up under his jacket and dozed off. His phone buzzed to life that morning with a few dozen texts. He met Percy and Annabeth at a small diner that next day.

[fuckprophecys]

"what about us?"

Annabeth hated not being able to sleep. Her friends at school last week told her "you have the perfect life, i wish i could live like you!"

She hated the nightmares. She hated being across the country. She hated her school, her bedroom, the black of night.

A sleeping bag sat next to her, hooked down to the shingles on top of her home. It was roughly midnight, on a late October night. The window below her lit from her bedside lap, her curtains making flapping sounds from the soft breeze.

"What about us?" She had her first dream about Luke in months. She didn't even think she remembered what his voice sounded like, perhaps she had blocked it out.

It was sad. Broken. Fiery. Angry. Destroyed.

She thought about her past year. Since Luke's died, she's been through a lot. She didn't have time to stop and think about the family she use to have when he was still around.

"What about us?" She whispered, voice cracked with emotions she didn't realize were building up. She looked at her hands. "Is this what happens when being a hero gets too much?"

She curled into her sleeping bag, dozing off to the sounds of night. Her father found her the next morning

[hamlinfly]

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