Chapter Text
Percy had imagined a lot of ways his evening might go.
He'd pictured a quiet night at his mom's apartment, maybe catching up on homework he'd neglected during those weeks of, you know, saving the world. Or possibly a movie night with his mom and Paul, complete with blue popcorn and zero discussions of gods, monsters, or apocalyptic prophecies.
What he hadn't imagined was finding Batman perched on the fire escape outside his bedroom window.
Percy nearly jumped out of his skin when he spotted the dark silhouette against the New York skyline. For one disorienting moment, he thought it might be a monster—until he recognized the distinctive pointed ears of the cowl.
"You have got to be kidding me," Percy muttered, crossing his room to unlatch the window.
Batman didn't wait for an invitation. He slipped inside with silent efficiency, his cape settling around him like living darkness. In the confined space of Percy's bedroom, he seemed even more imposing than Percy remembered.
"Jackson," Batman greeted, his voice that same gravelly monotone that Percy had first heard in Gotham.
"You know," Percy said, crossing his arms, "most people use the door. Or call ahead. Or, I don't know, don't lurk outside teenagers' windows like creepy stalkers."
Batman remained impassive. "Your mother would have questions."
"Yeah, that's generally how conversations work." Percy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What are you doing in New York? Gotham run out of gargoyles for you to brood with?"
He scribbled a quick note for his mom in case she woke up (Gone to talk to Batman. Be back soon. Love you.) and headed for the fire escape.
Batman followed him silently, a shadow detaching from other shadows. Percy led the way up rather than down, climbing to the rooftop where they'd have more privacy and—more importantly—fewer chances of waking his mom. The last thing he needed was to explain to Sally Jackson why there was a man dressed as a bat in their apartment at 11 PM on a school night.
The city sprawled before them, its lights glittering against the night sky. Even at this hour, the sounds of traffic and distant sirens created New York's unique lullaby. Percy settled himself on the edge of the roof, letting his legs dangle over the side. Batman remained standing, of course, because apparently sitting was against the bat-code or something.
"So," Percy began, "you didn't answer my question. What brings the Dark Knight to the Big Apple? Tourism? Hot dog craving? Secret Batman convention?"
"Manhattan was nearly destroyed two weeks ago," Batman stated flatly.
Percy's smile faded. "Oh. That."
"Yes. That." Batman moved closer, his cape shifting in the light breeze. "A series of unexplained natural disasters. Widespread civilian evacuations. Reports of strange creatures throughout the city. And at the center of it all—" he fixed Percy with an unreadable look, "—a group of teenagers."
Percy winced. "I'm guessing 'it was just a really bad storm' isn't going to cut it with you?"
"No."
"Figured." Percy sighed, looking out over the city—his city—that had so recently been a battlefield. "Look, I promised no gods or monsters in Gotham. I never said anything about New York."
"The agreement was that you would establish communication," Batman countered. "Not disappear for months, then resurface in the middle of what appeared to be an apocalyptic event."
Percy blinked. "Wait, you were... worried about me?"
Batman's expression remained unchanged. "I was concerned about the implications of divine warfare in a major metropolitan area."
"Right. Of course." Percy couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Well, crisis averted. The bad guys lost, the good guys won, and the city's mostly back to normal thanks to the Mist and some divine cleanup crews. So, mystery solved. You can go back to Gotham now."
Batman didn't move. "Tell me what happened."
It wasn't a request. Percy considered deflecting, giving the sanitized version he'd been telling his teachers to explain his extended absence. But something in Batman's stance told him the Dark Knight wouldn't leave without answers.
"It's a long story," Percy warned.
"I have time."
Percy took a deep breath. "Remember how I mentioned a Titan Lord named Kronos? Well, he finally managed to reform completely. Used the body of a former friend of mine as his host." Percy's voice caught slightly on the word 'friend,' the memory of Luke's sacrifice still raw. "He led an army of monsters against Olympus—which, by the way, is located at the Empire State Building. Don't ask, gods are weird about architecture."
Batman remained silent, his posture indicating he was listening intently.
"Anyway, there was this prophecy about a child of the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades—either saving or destroying Olympus when they turned sixteen." Percy gestured to himself. "That would be me. Sweet sixteen gift: potential apocalypse responsibility."
"A prophecy," Batman repeated, somehow making the word sound both ridiculous and deadly serious at the same time.
"Yeah, the gods are big on those. Usually cryptic, always ominous, never helpful until after everything's gone to Hades." Percy shrugged. "Long story short, Kronos's army invaded Manhattan. The gods were busy fighting the Titan Typhon across the country, so it was just us campers defending the city."
"Children," Batman stated, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.
"Demigods," Percy corrected. "Trained fighters. But... yeah, mostly teenagers."
Batman's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Continue."
Percy gave him the abbreviated version—the bridge battles, the sleeping spell on the mortals, Morpheus's betrayal, the various monsters they'd faced. He glossed over his dip in the Styx, his newfound invulnerability, and the worst of the fighting.
"In the end, it came down to a choice," Percy concluded. "Luke—the guy Kronos was possessing—found the strength to fight back just long enough to sacrifice himself and take Kronos with him. The prophecy talked about a hero's soul being reaped by a cursed blade. Turns out, Luke was the hero in question, not me."
Batman was silent for a long moment, processing. "And the casualties?"
Percy's expression darkened. "Too many. We lost good campers. Friends." He swallowed hard. "But the mortal death toll was minimal, thanks to the evacuation and the sleeping spell."
"You led children into battle," Batman said, and this time there was no mistaking the condemnation in his voice.
"I didn't have a choice," Percy shot back, a flash of anger rising. "The gods were elsewhere, the adults who knew about our world were scattered or fighting elsewhere, and Kronos wasn't going to wait for us to reach voting age before attacking. It was fight or let the world as we know it end."
"There's always a choice," Batman countered.
Percy stood up, suddenly tired of being judged by someone who hadn't been there, hadn't faced what they faced. "Easy for you to say. You weren't the one with a prophecy hanging over your head since you were twelve. You weren't watching friends die while trying to figure out how to stop a Titan lord with an army of monsters. We did what we had to do."
They stood facing each other, the teenage demigod and the Dark Knight, neither backing down. Finally, Batman spoke again, his tone slightly modulated.
"What were the other casualties? Beyond the physical."
The question caught Percy off guard. He'd expected more criticism, not... whatever this was.
"What do you mean?"
"The damage that doesn't show," Batman clarified. "The cost that doesn't appear in any report."
Percy looked away, understanding dawning. "Oh. That."
He walked to the other side of the roof, gathering his thoughts. Batman waited, a patient shadow.
"Nightmares," Percy finally admitted. "Pretty much all of us have them now. Some campers can't sleep without keeping a weapon under their pillow. Others jump at sudden noises. A few have gone home to their mortal parents, trying to pretend none of it happened." He shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Standard demigod stuff, just... intensified."
"And you?" Batman asked.
Percy gave a humorless laugh. "Me? I'm great. Just peachy. Except for the part where I see my friends dying every time I close my eyes, or where I wake up reaching for my sword, or where I destroyed part of the bathroom last week when a car backfired outside and I thought we were under attack again."
He hadn't meant to say so much, but once he started, the words just poured out. Percy ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed by the outburst.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to dump that on you. Like I said, we won. I should be celebrating, not complaining."
Batman approached, his movements deliberate. "Trauma isn't a sign of weakness, Jackson. It's a natural response to what you've experienced."
Percy blinked, surprised by the almost gentle tone. "Is this the part where you tell me you know a good therapist who specializes in post-apocalyptic stress disorder for teenage demigods?"
"No," Batman replied. "But I know something about fighting battles at a young age. About watching friends get hurt. About carrying responsibilities that should never have been yours."
For a moment, Percy glimpsed something behind the cowl—not physically, but emotionally. A crack in the armor that suggested Batman wasn't just speaking hypothetically.
"Does it get easier?" Percy asked before he could stop himself. "The nightmares, the hypervigilance, the feeling that you should have done more, saved more people?"
Batman was silent for so long that Percy thought he wouldn't answer. Then, "It changes. It becomes part of you, but not all of you. You learn to channel it."
Percy nodded, oddly comforted by the lack of platitudes. Batman wasn't telling him it would all be fine, or that he'd forget in time. He was acknowledging the reality of what Percy was going through without minimizing it.
"So," Percy said after a moment, "was that all you came for? To check if I'd survived the apocalypse and lecture me about child soldiers?"
"Partially," Batman admitted. "But also to give you this."
He reached into his utility belt and withdrew a small black device, similar to the communication unit he'd sent through Diana but more advanced. He handed it to Percy.
"An upgraded version. Global tracking. Biomonitoring. Emergency beacon with direct line to the Watchtower."
Percy turned the device over in his hands. "The Watchtower?"
"Justice League headquarters," Batman explained. "Dick thought it prudent, given your... propensity for finding trouble."
"Or trouble finding me," Percy muttered. He looked up at Batman with suspicion. "Wait, have you been monitoring me?"
Batman's silence was answer enough.
"Dude!" Percy exclaimed. "That's a major invasion of privacy! I've been through enough without having the Bat-stalker checking my vital signs!"
"Your bioreadings during the Battle of Manhattan were concerning," Batman stated, unapologetic. "Particularly during what appeared to be a confrontation at the Empire State Building. Your heart stopped for approximately 43 seconds."
Percy paled slightly. He'd nearly forgotten that moment—Kronos freezing time, the knife meant for Percy's vulnerable spot striking Annabeth instead. His world had literally stopped in that moment.
"That's... complicated," he managed.
"I also noted unusual readings consistent with extreme hydration, followed by power signatures similar to what Diana produces when accessing her divine abilities," Batman continued. "Care to explain?"
Percy sighed. "Not really, but I'm guessing you'll stand there all night until I do."
Batman didn't deny it.
"Fine. Short version: I can heal in water. During the battle, I was pretty messed up—broken ribs, lots of cuts, exhaustion. I jumped in the East River, and it... supercharged me, I guess you could say. Let me access more of my powers than usual."
Batman's eyes narrowed behind the cowl. "How much more?"
Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Enough to create a minor hurricane and throw a few Titans around. Nothing major."
"A hurricane," Batman repeated flatly. "In Manhattan."
"A small one," Percy insisted. "Localized. Mostly for dramatic effect."
Batman stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. "You're more powerful than you indicated in Gotham."
It wasn't a question, but Percy felt compelled to answer anyway. "I was still figuring things out back then. And honestly, I'm not sure what my limits are. The whole hurricane thing was kind of a surprise to me too."
Batman seemed to process this information, filing it away in whatever mental database he kept. "The device," he said, gesturing to the unit in Percy's hand. "Keep it with you."
Percy looked down at the sleek black technology, feeling a strange mix of irritation and gratitude. On one hand, the tracking and monitoring was creepy. On the other hand, the fact that Batman cared enough to check on him, to upgrade his equipment, to fly all the way from Gotham just to make sure he was okay...
"Thanks," he said finally, clipping the device to the watch Jason had sent him. "Though I'm still not thrilled about the whole tracking thing."
"It's a two-way system," Batman informed him. "If you're in danger, it alerts us. If we're in danger, you'll know."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "You're giving me a way to know if Batman needs help? That seems... out of character."
"Dick insisted," Batman said, his tone suggesting he'd argued against it. "He seems to think you might be... useful in certain scenarios."
"High praise," Percy remarked, unable to suppress a grin. "So does this make me an honorary Justice League member? Do I get a cool code name? Aqua-Lad? Poseidon Junior? The Flood?"
"No," Batman stated firmly. "This makes you someone with a direct line to help if the divine world creates problems again. Nothing more."
"Got it. Just a demigod on call." Percy nodded, then tilted his head. "Though technically, I am the official Bearer of the Sky, Retriever of the Golden Fleece, Navigator of the Labyrinth, and Savior of Olympus. Just saying, my resume's pretty solid."
Batman's expression didn't change, but Percy swore he could sense a microscopic shift toward exasperation.
"Those titles," Batman said. "Explain them."
Percy blinked. "What, now? That's like, my whole life story."
"Summarize."
Percy sighed, recognizing the futility of arguing. "Fine. Cliff notes version. Bearer of the Sky: had to hold up the sky for a while to save Artemis—the goddess, not your friend. Heavy, wouldn't recommend. Retriever of the Golden Fleece: sailed through the Sea of Monsters—that's the Bermuda Triangle to you mortals—to get a magical healing item to save the camp. Navigator of the Labyrinth: found my way through Daedalus's Labyrinth, which is this crazy underground maze that shifts and changes and is basically a death trap. And Savior of Olympus, well, you know that part already."
With each title, Batman's posture grew incrementally more rigid. By the end of Percy's explanation, the Dark Knight's jaw was clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.
"You held the sky," he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.
"Just for a little while," Percy clarified quickly. "Atlas—he's a Titan—is the official sky-bearer. I was just filling in temporarily."
"At what age?"
Percy winced. "Fourteen?"
"And the Sea of Monsters?"
"Thirteen. But I had help! My friend Annabeth was there, and my cyclops half-brother Tyson, and Clarisse—"
"Your cyclops half-brother," Batman interrupted. "Explain."
"Poseidon has a variety of... offspring," Percy said awkwardly. "Tyson's mom was a nature spirit, I think. He's a good kid, works in the forges of Atlantis now. Makes me cool stuff sometimes."
Batman took a slow, deliberate breath. "And the Labyrinth?"
"Last summer, so fifteen," Percy admitted. "But again, I had a team. Annabeth, Grover—he's a satyr—and Rachel, who's a mortal who can see through the Mist. Oh, and Nico joined us for part of it. He's a son of Hades."
"A son of Hades," Batman repeated. "How old is he?"
Percy suddenly realized where this conversation was heading and tried to backtrack. "Look, it's really not as bad as it sounds—"
"How. Old."
Percy sighed. "He's twelve now. Was eleven when we first met him."
Batman went very still, the kind of stillness that Percy recognized as potentially more dangerous than movement. When he spoke again, his voice was glacial.
"Let me be clear. You're telling me that children—some as young as eleven—are regularly sent on quests that involve holding up the sky, navigating mythological death traps, and fighting immortal beings with the power to level cities."
Put like that, it did sound pretty bad. "Well, when you say it that way—"
"It's child endangerment on a cosmic scale," Batman cut him off. "Where are the adults in your world, Jackson? Where are the responsible parties who should be protecting these children instead of sending them into danger?"
Percy bristled at the accusation, even though a part of him had asked the same questions many times. "The gods are busy with their own affairs. Chiron—he's our trainer—does his best, but there are ancient laws and prophecies that even he can't work around. And most adult demigods don't survive long enough to be much help. We're lucky if we make it to twenty."
That last statement seemed to land like a physical blow. Batman's head jerked slightly, as if Percy had struck him.
"What is the average life expectancy of a demigod?" he asked, his voice unnaturally even.
Percy looked away. "It's not great. Most don't make it past their teens if they're outside of camp. The ones who stay at camp year-round have better odds. And since the Titan War, the gods have promised to claim all their children by thirteen, so fewer kids will be out there unprotected."
"That's meant to be reassuring?" Batman demanded. "That children will be 'claimed' by thirteen, just in time to be sent on fatal quests?"
"Better than never being claimed at all," Percy shot back, a flash of old bitterness surfacing. "Do you know how many unclaimed kids sided with Kronos? How many felt abandoned and forgotten by their divine parents? At least now they'll know who they are, have a cabin, siblings, training."
Batman studied him for a long moment. "You're defending a system that uses children as soldiers and pawns."
"I'm acknowledging that the system is flawed but improving," Percy corrected. "And I'm not just defending it, I'm trying to change it. That was my reward for saving Olympus—making the gods promise to recognize all their children, to pay attention to the minor gods and their kids too. It's not perfect, but it's a start."
Something in Batman's posture shifted slightly—not relaxed, exactly, but altered. "You were offered a reward and used it to help others."
Percy shrugged uncomfortably. "It seemed like the right thing to do."
Batman fell silent, seemingly processing everything Percy had told him. Percy waited, watching the lights of the city, wondering what was going through the Dark Knight's mind.
Finally, Batman spoke again. "The device I gave you. It's not just for emergencies."
Percy looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"
"If you need resources—medical attention, extraction, transportation, information—it provides a direct line."
Percy blinked, surprised by the offer. "You're giving me a Bat-hotline? For non-emergencies?"
"Within reason," Batman clarified. "And with the understanding that if you abuse it, access will be revoked."
"Wow," Percy said, genuinely touched. "That's... actually really helpful. Thanks."
Batman nodded once, then turned as if to leave. He seemed to hesitate a moment—something Percy was instantly on alert with. "Jackson."
"Yeah?"
"That watch Red Hood sent you."
Percy glanced down at his wrist, where the high-tech watch Jason had given him gleamed in the city lights. "What about it?"
"It has additional functions he didn't mention," Batman informed him. "Specifically, an emergency tracker tied directly to his systems. If you activate it, he'll come."
Percy's mouth fell open slightly. "Wait, you know about—of course you know about it. You probably know what I had for breakfast too."
"Blueberry pancakes and orange juice," Batman confirmed, already moving toward the edge of the roof. Percy couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. "Just be aware that if you call him, he'll respond with lethal force. Use discretion."
Batman paused. “One more thing, Jackson."
"Yeah?"
"The Achilles Curse. It makes you powerful, but it's a liability. A known weakness, even a hidden one, is a vulnerability opponents will exploit. Consider alternatives."
Percy frowned. "It's not exactly something I can take off like a jacket. It's bound to my soul."
"Everything has a solution," Batman replied. "Even divine curses."
With that cryptic statement, he fired a grappling hook at a nearby building and prepared to depart.
"Wait," Percy called. "How did you know I was in trouble during the battle? You said my heart stopped—how did you know to monitor me right then?"
Batman paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I didn't. The watch monitors continuously. I reviewed the data afterward when reports of the 'gas leak' matched your location."
Percy processed this. "So you weren't watching in real-time when I almost died?"
Something in Batman's posture changed—a subtle tension. "I was... occupied with a situation in Gotham. When your vitals flatlined, the alert was delayed due to interference. Possibly mystical in nature."
Was that... guilt in Batman's voice? Surely not.
"Hey, no worries," Percy said with forced lightness. "Not like you could have done much against Kronos anyway. Godly possession is way above your pay grade."
Batman's expression darkened. "No threat is above my pay grade, Jackson."
Percy couldn't help but laugh at that. "Dude, you're intense. Kronos is the Titan Lord of Time. He can literally freeze you in place and age you to dust. Even the gods were afraid of him."
"Fear is a tactical disadvantage," Batman replied flatly. "And time manipulation can be countered with the right preparation."
Percy stared at him, caught between amusement and disbelief. "Are you seriously telling me you have a contingency plan for fighting the Lord of Time?"
"I have contingency plans for everything."
With that, Batman leapt from the rooftop, his cape billowing out behind him as he swung away into the New York night.
"Nice talking to you too," Percy muttered to the empty air, shaking his head in a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration. The man was simultaneously the most paranoid and most prepared person Percy had ever met—and considering Percy knew Annabeth Chase, that was saying something.
He glanced down at the watch on his wrist with new appreciation. All this time, he'd thought it was just a fancy gift from Jason Todd—a peace offering of sorts. But it had actually been monitoring him, tracking his vital signs, ready to alert Batman if Percy was in danger.
It was invasive. Presumptuous. A total violation of privacy.
It was also, Percy had to admit, kind of nice to know someone was watching his back—someone outside the world of gods and monsters, someone who had no divine obligation or prophetic motivation. Just a mortal man in a bat costume who apparently cared enough to track Percy's heartbeat from another city.
He made his way back down the fire escape, stopping by the kitchen to grab a blue cookie from the jar his mom always kept full. As he passed the living room, he saw Sally asleep on the couch, a book fallen open on her chest. She must have been waiting up for him.
Percy gently removed the book, placed a blanket over her, and planted a kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly but didn't wake. Batman's visit would have to wait until morning—though Percy would definitely be editing out the part about his heart stopping and Batman tracking his vital signs. His mom worried enough already and some things were too strange even for demigod life.
As he made his way to his room, Percy found himself thinking about Batman's visit. The Dark Knight had come all this way, not to scold or threaten, but to check on him. To offer resources. To make sure he was okay.
It was almost... paternal.
Percy snorted at the thought. Batman, concerned about his wellbeing? The guy probably just wanted to make sure Percy wasn't going to flood Manhattan in a moment of teenage angst.
But as he rolled into bed, Percy couldn't quite shake the feeling that he'd just experienced something rare—Batman showing genuine concern for someone outside his immediate circle. For a demigod who, by all reasonable assessments, was a walking natural disaster with a sword.
He glanced at the watch again. Global tracking. Biomonitoring. Panic button. All packed into a sleek, waterproof package that had probably cost more than his mom's car.
"Overprotective weirdo," Percy muttered, but he was smiling as he said it.
As he drifted off to sleep, Percy couldn't help wondering what Batman would do if he ever met Percy's actual father. The thought of Poseidon and Batman sizing each other up was enough to make him smile into his pillow.
Two overprotective, emotionally constipated somewhat father figures with too much power and not enough social skills.
Yeah, that would definitely end well.