The Reluctant Hero

Slapping Dreams in the face.

The tower was different after that: there was an unspoken respect towards the scarred teenager and they spoke more. Percy was slowly opening up to this team of misfit mortals and, although at times he felt like he'd just opened Pandora's Pithos, it was helping him. As he grew more comfortable around them, he wore his scars more until they were all used to it and he was more comfortable in his skin and, gradually, every so often, a worn but happy smile would crop up among the scars and marks.

But Morpheus persisted.  Percy never screamed again, he was determined not to give the wayward Dream God the satisfaction but the Avengers still knew and, every night, without fail, they would migrate to the Olympian's room and gather round and go to sleep scattered around the room, they knew it was futile to try to wake him, so they slept.

But as soon as Percy so much as twitched they were all awake. His eyes would snap open and he's lurch to the side, tumbling from the bed and they'd all be there. Thor and Cap carefully lifted him and carried him to the bathroom where Bruce would be waiting to assess his wounds and how they healed, then he'd be helped back to sit on the bed where the two spies would hand him new clothes while Stark sorted out the blood-soaked sheets.

It worked, but it had to stop. One day they decided enough was enough, they couldn't let their friend keep getting hurt like this, the bags under his eyes were getting worse and his movements were getting tired and jerky, he was permanently on edge.

"Percy?" Steve had to try.

"Yes," The Greek God looked up from his work, he'd been sketching something. The super soldier smiled, the 'sir' as Percy used to call him had only recently been discarded, though it still slipped out sometimes when he wasn't thinking (he was the God of Soldiers after all).

"With Morpheus," his tone was careful as the room quietened slightly as the other Avengers tensed. Percy hummed in recognition, guarded, his work forgotten.

"He's a minor God, yes?"

"Yes, a traitor too."

"And you're an Olympian."

"Sadly."

"So...er...how can he hurt you?" His words tumbled out in a rush now, "I mean, you must be more powerful than him, so how can he stop you from defending yourself and hurt you like he does?" the normally un-cowable captain looked up gingerly, the other Avengers nodding in agreement, silently asking the same question. It had been bothering them all.

Percy sighed.

"I never wanted to be a God, much less an Olympian." they nodded, he'd told them as much when he explained his past. "Well, I" he ran a calloused hand through his hair, the grey streak tht he reclaimed upon becoming a God shimmered in the light, "I've been...I suppose you'd say restraining my powers, locking away anything I didn't have as a demigod. I...I never accepted being a God, it was never my choice. I guess I never really accepted the extra power either and...without it....I can't fight off Morpheus. You have to understand, controlling a dream, especially one you didn't create, it's challenging for even a normal Olympian if it's not their born talent," He met their eyes, running a hand over a dark, lumped scar running over the back of his wrist. It was an old rock climbing injury, he'd been on climbing weekend with Annabeth, she'd told him off for paying attention to her and not the cliff, he'd just laughed and kissed her after chewing the ambrosia she shoved into his hands. He smiled slightly. "Anyway, I....I just can't," he swallowed hard, his voice scraped to a whisper, "I can't let them go."

Tony walked closer carefully, making sure not to get too close, he knew how PTSD worked, though maybe not this severely.

"You don't have to Percy, you just have to accept what happened." He tried to say it gently.

Percy shot up, his chair skidding across the room.

"NO!" His hands compressed into fists, his calloused fingers curling in. "No! I.....no...I....no.....never! You can't take them!"

"Percy." Natasha raised her hands carefully, "We aren't taking them."
"You can't! I won't let you touch them!" His hand went to his pocket, his muscles tensing and relaxing over and over. Obviously trying to fight the images overtaking him.

"Percy, there's no one here. We were talking about Morpheus, remember? Your dreams."

"They...no you can't hurt them." He started muttering in Ancient Greek, "I...I wont let you hurt them again....please don't hurt us again....I  wont let you! I won't be trapped again." His eyes were clouded over, his breathing too fast.

The team had backed off; recognising a flashback.

"I don't want to be alone again. Please don't make me be alone again. You can't hurt her. Please..." And the Hero broke, he curled, his hands relaxing as he slowly lowered himself to the floor. "I...I'm sorry." He swallowed again. "I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be a God, a Hero for fuck's sake! Hades....it's just, I...."
"It's alright Percy," Steve spoke up, slowly getting closer, making sure he was seen, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Understanding shone in his veteran's eyes. "You don't have to be strong for your troops anymore, there's no one to lead right now. You can break, it's OK Percy. We've got you." He sat down next to Percy on the floor, backs to the wall. He didn't touch him.

"We've got you and we can get through this. But you have to accept who you are. You have to accept that they're gone and I know it's hard, it's so fucking difficult. I can't understand what it was like to...see that, but I know what it's like to have no one left and I'm so sorry you've gone through this, but you have to keep going-"
"Why?" The captain stopped short.

"What?"
"Why do I have to keep going? Why do I have to be immortal? Why do I have stay and fight when they're gone? Why do I have to keep going?" The teen stared at Steve through his tears, his voice cracked and broke as he asked what he'd wanted to know for so long now. "Why do I have to fight?" The captain's answer was unflinching.

"Because you have to. Because you don't have a choice and because they would want you to. There's no one to fight anymore. Your war is over."

Percy laughed.

"There's always something to fight! There's always a monster hunting demigods, always a murderer hiding round the corner, always a war waging and I can see it all now. Because I've let myself think about it all, about them, and I can feel every hero, ever soldier and every leader, I can feel their pain and heartbreak and triumphs and grief and it hurts like hell. I don't want to be an Olympian! I don't want to be a God! I don't want to be a Hero! I don't want to be a Demigod! I want to be normal, be a husband, be a teenager and a student and I want to live quietly, happily, have dreams and aspiration and I want her-," his voice broke again, " I want ANNABETH back! I want my Wise Girl, my fiance! I want my friends, my family and my life!" his breathe became ragged, "I just want to be normal and happy....I just want Annabeth back..." The tears were streaming down his face and he gave up.

He remembered everything, every smile, every stab wound, every laugh, every scream, every sparring session and every war. Every possibility and every death.

The poor, broken hero lent into the super soldier's arms and the grieving teenager sobbed into the soldier's chest, the rest of their team gathered around him.

And he finally accepted what had happened to him.