Rick Riordan's Hunger Games [PJO AU]

Epilogue

Yes, it's finally here :)

Happy new year, everyone! Here's to 2021 magically getting better 🥂

Retrieving the throwing knife from under his bandages without squirming too much was difficult, but Percy managed it.

He slit a hole in the side of the black rubber body bag then hid the knife under him. He breathed in the cool air. It had the odd smell of metal and disinfectant, but he welcomed it all the same. 

He and Annabeth had been picked up separately, which he had known would be the most likely scenario. It meant laying there by himself like a cold corpse, waiting for the hovercraft to land in District 4.

The plan had sounded crazy, but there were no hitches so far. She'd told him about seeing dead tributes getting delivered back home. They were never cleaned, preserved, or put back together. Trackers were deactivated but not taken out, and sometimes tokens or food would still be in the pockets.

He had never seen a dead tribute back at District 4, but he did hear talk that their bodies were pretty much untouched, so he was able to confirm her suspicions. Their bodies wouldn't be examined closely.

Footsteps sounded on the floor, and a voice said: "I got it."

It was his mentor, Mestrius. Since District 4 had no male victor yet, Percy got some twenty-year-old from the Capitol Academy with bleached silver hair. They didn't exactly bond, but he was nice enough. Still, it could be disastrous if Mestrius caught him.

The zipper got tugged down, and light seared through his eyelids, painting them red. Percy made an effort not to move his pupils.

"Good lord," Mestrius muttered. Metal brushed his arm, and there were a few beeps. The tracker had deactivated.

Percy tried his best to be still and continued to hold his breath. His chest ached from the effort. A shame that the universe never wanted him dead when it was convenient.

It surprised him when Mestrius patted his shoulder. "I'm sorry, buddy. We tried."

Mestrius zipped up the bag right as Percy ran out of air. The footsteps faded, and his deep breaths seemed to occupy the entire silence.

Half an hour later, he was hoisted into the air on a stretcher and carried out. The walk felt long, and he watched the outside world pass by through the little hole.

District 4 was the same. The salt in the air, sun on the pavement, and people lugging nets of fresh fish from the sea to the market. Everyone avoided looking at the body bag.

Then they carried him through a doorway, and he was home.

He was dumped onto the kitchen table. Whoever transported him in left, and he saw a flash of the white Peacekeepers uniform.

The whole time Percy had contemplated how he would do the big reveal without giving his mom a heart attack. There was really no right way to do it.

It turns out his mom was already next to him, silent as a ghost. She unzipped the bag and saw him blink —

Mom let out a split-second scream before slapping her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

"It's okay, Mom," Percy said quickly, sitting up. "I'm alive. I faked my death. And... I'm kind of cold."

"Percy!" she gasped, voice shrill.

He shimmied himself out of the bodybag and stood in front of her. "Everything's fine. I'm okay."

Mom whispered his name again and smothered him the warmest hug he'd ever received. She patted his hair, crying. "I can't believe it."

"Me neither," Percy said, tearing up himself. He missed this so much. The smell of soup, a roof over his head, Mom's soft voice —