"Percy!" A panicked voice calls, sounding like it's not the first time they said his name. "Are you okay?" Percy stills, not sure what to say. His mouth opens and then closes again and his gaze flies to a scar running down his arm. "Time heals all wounds." He shrugs, a casual gesture, though the creases around his eyes and the tightness to his lips is anything but casual. Natasha - for that's who's been calling his name - studies him for a moment, noting the way he avoided the question. "No, Percy. Time fiddles with your memories and dulls the pain of the wound, but it remains there all the same." Percy's hand drops down to his side, his expression carefully blank. "And what of emotional pain? Does it remain?" "It festers." Natasha lets out a slow breath, trying to keep her face in a neutral position, though her eyes betray her concern and the fact that she speaks from experience. "And the more you try to contain it, to hide it, the more it grows. Then one day it just... implodes. Like a storm. And... all the water just... drags you under. Until someone pulls you out." Percy laughs drily. "See that's the problem, Natasha. Everyone that's tried to pull me out is dead. And gods know I'm not strong enough to pull myself out." Or Percy Jackson meets the avengers. Can they help him? Or will he drown?