My Favourite Story's On The Internet

Findable On: Archive of Our Own (Ao3)

Author: RosenMaiden

Summary: After he finally had some peace and quiet for once in his blasted demigod life, Percy finds himself catapulted back a decade to the past, right back to his confrontation with Mrs Dodds.

While not exactly thrilled, he chooses to make use of this chance and try to prevent as many of the tragic deaths of campers as possible without fucking up the timeline in the process. Hopefully. So, he'll start again from scratch, even if it means getting Zeus' stupid bolt back or fighting two wars for gods that can't be bothered to save themselves.

Again.

---

Percy Jackson, two times saviour of Olympus, survivor of literal hell, was kind of bored. It was strange in a way. His life was always hectic and full of action but once it winded down, he wanted some action back. He was floating in the open ocean, staring at the sky and wondered just where exactly his life had taken the wrong turn. First Kronos, then Gaea. Tartarus, while he was at it. A bunch of giants. Three times in one case. He and Annabeth had broken up, both struggling to cope with everything and each other, and even though he had felt so hollow that he had just left her standing right then and there, only sadness filled him now. And a strange acceptance. He had known that they were too co-dependent on each other, unable to step away or comfort each other as any mention of the pit would send both spiralling. The break-up was mutual; they did need time away from each other to heal fully. For almost three years – since the conclusion of the mess Gaea had caused – his life had been actually rather nice, he had been able to stop and breathe, process his trauma and work on his self-depreciating attitude, enjoy life for what it had to offer instead of non-stop fighting.

He sighed, felt something brush against his leg but didn't pay attention to it, most likely just a playful shark or fish, opting to watch the clouds instead. His thoughts kept whirling, rewinding the second gigantomachy, dragging every lost life to the forefront. He winced as he remembered the battle of Manhattan, the grand finale of the second Titanomachy. Michael, Silena – hell, even Ethan. So many children of the gods. Apollo, Ares predominantly. Half the remaining people. During the battle of the Labyrinth, there was Lee, there was Castor, there were campers in the collapsing tent, hostile demigods, brave fighters. Bianca, he thought with a wince, and Zoe. Percy blinked, noticed his vision swam and tried to wipe his tears away. They had lost dozens of campers to the battles, had lost demigods that had never even made it to camp, caught and killed or absorbed by Kronos' forces. Little Grace, barely five years old, the youngest death during Gaea's assault on the camp. It had devastated the Apollo Cabin and put a serious damper on an already heavy victory. She hadn't been the only loss that day.

Jason, he thought with a shaky breath. Taken by Caligula. Killed before by thrice-damned Hera. Gwen flashed before his eyes. Thankfully survived because the doors of Death were open. The hunters during the encounter with Orion that Reyna, Thalia and Nico had spoken of. Even Octavian came to mind for a moment, as well as Luke. There were the roman campers that had fought against the triumvirate. He closed his eyes, saw his lost friends flash by before his inner eye. Pain had gripped his heart; his breaths were shallow and shaky. He tried pushing all his thoughts aside, blankly watching the clouds roll in above.

If only I could do it all over again, save them from their fate, he thought as he slipped into a doze.

***

Percy jolted awake from dreamless sleep, stirred by a loud thud somewhere nearby. What the Hades, he cursed as he idly wondered what could make such noise on the open ocean before he realised he was on a solid but soft surface. He snapped his eyes open, jolted upright. The first thing he saw was his own body, halfway covered by a thin blanket. It looked wrong to him. Tiny. Scrawny. Scarless. He swirled around, cataloguing his surroundings and froze as he laid eyes on the other person in the room. His brain had barely caught up on the room, identifying it to be his dorm room at Yancy. Impossible. Haven't been here since 2006. But his gaze was fixed on the guy on the other bed, back turned to Percy, fiddling with a brush. The demigod would recognise that figure everywhere. Grover. He squinted as the satyr turned halfway, clearly not noticing him. He wore his sneakers already, preparing for school, it seemed, a strange but familiar sight from a decade in the past. Grover looked younger, his horns were smaller, his aura as the Lord of the Wild was gone. Just like he had looked back at Yancy.

The satyr looked up now, locking eyes with Percy. "Morning," he grinned, "you're up already, just wanted to wake you."

Percy tilted his head, silently scrutinised his friend.

"Perce? Something wrong?" Grover got up, walked up to him. Percy noticed the glint in his eyes, the light sniff as the satyr tried to parse out his emotions.

The demigod cleared his throat, averted his gaze. "Nightmare," he muttered, still confused and a little overwhelmed from his environment. His own voice send him reeling again. So young, high. He glanced down at his hands again, noticed the lack of the SPQR tattoo, the missing scar from an encounter with a scratchy monster. The light burn was gone, his skin completely unblemished despite a decade of monster fighting, wars and meddling bitch-faced goddesses. He scrambled out of bed, gripping the edge of the mirror on the wardrobe as he stared into it. Facing him was his twelve-year-old self.

"What the ...,' he trailed off, suddenly very aware of Grover behind him and swallowed the Hades. No need to freak him out yet by suddenly beginning to use Greek versions of modern curses.

"What's wrong, Percy? You're scaring me," Grover reached out to pat his shoulder, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

Percy inhaled, counted to ten, exhaled, and shook his head. "Just a really weird dream," he sighed, driving both hands through his messy bedhead, and hesitated. Did I ... he threw a quick glance at Grover's calendar through the mirror, noticed the date. Mrs Dodds' attacked today, he noted. The beginning of the shit show that is my life. Did I go back to the past? How? With a start, he noticed Grover still staring at him and he added numbly, "dreamed I was an adult, lost everything I loved. I was just confused when I woke up." With a step to the side, he shrugged off Grover's hand and rummaged through his clothes for something to change into. His thoughts whirled around the date, the possibility of time travel. Who would even be able to? He halted in his movements as another realisation set in and his heart grew heavy at the memories and yet lighter with tentative hope. I can save them. Do it all over again.

"You sure you're alright?" Grover asked.

Percy turned to face him, took in the satyr's younger appearance. He hadn't changed much in the last ten years but it was noticeable that Grover had grown up. He looked so young, so much like a child. He is one, he realised. Just like I am, he added with another quick glance at the mirror. This would take some getting used to. Lacking his trained body, practically half his former size. No weapon, he mourned, the familiar feel of the pen in his pants pocket not there. He couldn't wait to get his hands back on Riptide, his trusted blade. But maybe ... he could branch out, train with a different weapon as well, something with reach perhaps? Go full cliché and opt for the trident? The idea was nice and would need further consideration.

"Percy," Grover pleaded and he realised he was staring blankly into space again, lost in thought.

"Sorry, sorry," he hurried to say and pulled his shirt over his head. "You looked ... different in my dream." He paused, turning back to Grover and miming a beard with one hand, grinning, summoning his long dead childhood innocence from somewhere. "Like, with a full beard and all."

"Why do you have such weird dreams, man?" Grover asked but seemed to believe his words. Percy breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Hurry up, though. It's field trip day."

Percy froze in his movements for just a second and grimaced. The fury. He glanced back at Grover, who was still watching him with a light frown, and reached for his shoes. Well then, he thought, straightening up and grinning at Grover, here we go again, it seems. Averting his gaze, he allowed bitterness, anger and pain to flash through his eyes. Fuck.