"Are you okay?" Paul asked the moment the door shut behind us. I didn't answer; he herded me towards the bed. Cursing, he turned away. Shuffling. Drawers opening, then shutting. He ducked to look through his school bag. Finally, Paul placed a stress ball in my hand. 

"Can you take a deep breath?"

I barely heard him. I barely saw the flaking red paint or my own hand clenching the ball. I barely heard the door open. Paul blocked my view. His nails dug into his wrist. Hypocrite.

"Is she okay?" Dad asked quietly.

"I've been a teacher long enough to recognize a panic attack. I'm. .  not sure of the reasons for it, but, ah--"

"Something to do with my family's presence?" The ball bounced on the floor, forgotten, as I reached for Dad. "Sh, I'm here." He brushed past Paul and took my hand. Shaking, I opened my mouth, then closed it. 

I couldn't-- I didn't know--

"Breathe." Dad pressed his hand to my chest. A deep breath was forced into my lungs. Fuck, how bad was it if he was doing that? I clung to his arm. Muscles flexed under his skin, but he didn't pull away. Another breath. In and out. In. Out.

In.

Out. 

The safe, strong arm disappeared. Terror struck through me, unearned and irrational. But all that mattered was needing Dad, needing that comfort. No matter what I tried, I couldn't. . . I couldn't grab him. It was like trying to grasp a fistful of water.

"I think it's probably an overload," Dad said to Paul. He carded his fingers through my hair. "She acts differently with us than she does with you. Add in people who she has to act differently towards, and it's too much to parse."

"You say that like it's dissecting a sentence."

"We're a bit different in how we process things. I don't know how much that extends to her."  He took his hand away, leaning closer to Paul to hear whatever he was whispering. It was about me. I knew that, and if I were in a better mind I might've been offended. You don't talk about people like that. Not with them in the room.

"She--"

I whined, and Dad sighed, shaking his head.

"I can handle her," he said. "I'm far better equipped to do so, which I'm sure you agree with." As soon as Paul left--why wouldn't he leave? He's smart--Dad knelt in front of me. "You breathing a little bit easier? Or do you need me to help you again?"

His fingers hovered in the air in front of my chest. Power sparked around them. It would be easy. Too easy, to lean forward. I shook my head.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Don't-- Dunno."

Wrong answer. His mouth twitched, and I whimpered. Maybe I should've told him the truth, but that would've been worse; how many times could I admit to weakness before--

"Give me your hand."

Blinking, I didn't think twice. Dad's large fingers wrapped my wrist  He kissed my knuckles then placed my palm against his cheek.

"See? I'm right here. Nothing to worry about. No need to worry, my little foal. Just focus on me. I can protect you." He brushed away my tears, and I hiccuped. "You know I can protect you?"

I nodded.

"And I will," he promises. 

 * * *

Dad paced the length of the room, running his hands through his hair. Each step, he flickered. Poseidon. Neptune. Poseidon. I shifted in place, unease pressing at my shoulders. Did I really make him that upset? The only other time I've seen a god flicker is when referred to by their other name. But why would Neptune even care?

The brand on my arm itched.

"This needs to stop, Percy," he said, once he'd settled back into Poseidon.

"It's not like this is hurting me."

"This is hurting you!" Dad's Greek came out louder than his English, and I winced. "You're supposed to call me when something like this happens."

"I can't exactly call you if you're here," I deadpanned. My hand latched to his shirt, and I tugged him closer as he responded with something I didn't care about, something about that not being the point. What was the point then? "Daddy, you're loud." 

"Sorry." His hand settled on the back of my head, and he went quiet for a while, letting me rest against him. I wanted him to pull me closer, to be tucked tightly against his chest and told how much he cared about me. Childish, but it sounded good.

Would he be mad if I asked him to hug me?

"This. . . This is just going to keep getting worse if you don't tell her. You--Please tell me you were just really interested in how shiny the knife was."

"I'm not going to hurt myself."

"Seahorse, you've had suicidal thoughts."

"I called you."

Dad's hand brushed the back of my neck. "And I'm so proud of you for doing that. Very, very proud, but that doesn't change that you need your mother to know so she doesn't cause you to have another panic attack."

"Wasn't her fault."

"Was it what your brother said?" 

I chewed my lip. There wasn't a real answer to that. If I said yes, then Triton would get in trouble, but if I said no, then he'd be upset with Mom.

"If it wasn't something she just did, it had to be building up. Something small that you can say doesn't bother you, but it's too similar to other circumstances," he said quietly. "This is why I wanted you to tell her in the first place.

"It's going to get to a point where you convince yourself that hurting yourself isn't really that bad. You'll say, it'll just be one time. Then it'll be twice. And then--And then I'm not sure if you'd tell me if you were thinking about killing yourself."

"Do you love me?"

He froze like I slapped him. "Of course, I love you.  What have I done to make you think--"

"Then I'd tell you." I nestled closer to his chest, but I had to bite back a whine when he pulled away. I scrubbed at my face. Don't cry. "Don't want you to stop."

He sighed and sat next to me. I didn't react when he took my hand in his, or when he cradled it. There was a sort of somber amazement in his eyes as he gently traced my fingers.

"Thanks for the seahorse," I said. My head tilted until it rested against his shoulder. "You didn't have to."

"You didn't like your birthday present." Before I could protest, he added, "Percy, there's little you could ask me for that I wouldn't give. You can tell me if you don't like something. I won't be mad."

"I like the bracelet. I don't want to lose it."

It was a bold-faced lie. Jewelry wasn't something I really liked in the first place, and I still didn't know if it did anything. It had to. Even my last birthday present from him--the sand dollar--served a purpose.

He snorted. "If you lose it, just tell me. The worst thing that happens is you find it and end up with more jewelry." 

"Why are you saying that like you're already planning on giving me more?"

"Don't tempt me. I called your mother a queen among mortals; if you're staying in my home, I can treat you like a princess, you know."

Giggling, I shook my head in weak protest. "Dad."

"Would it make it better if I do something with it?" he asked. "Make it into something that tells me your location or something that increases your water abilities?"

"You don't need to." How he figured out the real reason, I didn't know. We're far too similar. That probably made it easy. At least, I hoped that was the case. Otherwise it meant I was too easy to read.

"It would be as much for my peace of mind as for yours. I have a well of power that's infinitely deep." His hand cupped my face. "I--"

I tilted my head, waiting for him to finish. He stroked my cheek, soft green eyes focused on mine.  Part of me wants to look away. To break eye contact like what happens with everyone else.

"Like I said." He was the one to look away. "There's little I wouldn't do if you asked."

"What were you going to say?"

"You wouldn't accept it if I offered."

Oh.

I hugged him. A second later, I realized what I did and tried to pull away. Dad's arm looped around me, keeping me close.  That warm feeling--the one I remembered from when I was a baby--pooled in my chest. 

Head resting against mine.  Arms wrapping tight. Soft kisses to my hair. For a moment, everything seemed still like the air in a cave. However, it couldn't last.

"Is there anything you want me to do?" I asked, as Dad guided me down. His lap made a good pillow, so I wasn't going to complain. Add in him rubbing my head? I would do anything to get to keep that.

"Lie here and relax."

"Like-- Like a quest." I felt like Annabeth must've, all those years ago. I wanted to go out, to do something. Maine would be a nice place to visit. . . too bad it could only be me and Grover, if he could even go at all. The Lord of the Wild had to have better things to do.

"Seahorse, I'm not giving you anything like that when you're like this. You hear me? I don't like that you're going to sneak out tonight either, but I can't tell you not to." The air around us thickened, smelled strongly of the sea. There wasn't much further I could push this. He hmphed. "Find me a good present for Poseidae then. Doesn't have to be anything fancy, or anything that I might actually want. Just something that you think I'd want."

I puffed out my cheeks.

"Eh, let your old man be nostalgic. Chiron doesn't have you guys celebrate like he should."

"I just... I don't want to make you mad."

"I think the angriest I've ever been with you is when you sat on my throne." His fingers pressed against my jaw. "When you could've died if I didn't look. When I might've killed you without a thought." 

That wasn't what I was expecting. Him giving me something to do? Him laughing and saying that its a good thing to be scared of his temper? That had precedent. That would make sense.

He shrugged. "Apollo said vulnerability helps mortals feel more comfortable with each other. Like I told your step-father, I don't process things the same way he might. You're closer to me, but I don't think there's much difference between you and mortals.

"How are you different?". Despite asking, I didn't really want the answer.

"I can tell you every ship on the water right now. The fish swimming near the docks. I can tell you everything you left in your room and where you left it without having to look inside. I might look like you, and I know you--"

Yawning, I curled up, keeping my head on his lap so he wouldn't move his hand. Panicking, embarrassing as it was, wore me out like I was a toddler ready to go down for a nap. My fingers curled into his shirt.

"You could've just said you wanted me to talk." He chuckled. The tips of my ears burned. "I could tell you about venomous fish? Or I might be able to remember a lullaby my father sang us when we gave him indigestion."

Of course. Indigestion. The most normal reason to sing your five kids a lullaby. 

"You can go back out there. I'll be fine."

Don't go. Don't go. Don't leave me. I kept those whiny thoughts buried.

"I'm not missing much," he said. "Frozen meals aren't the pinnacle of mortal cuisine."  He pet my hair, humming softly. The vibration traveled through my limbs, and I almost thought it would be too much. Yet it almost made me drift off. He was calming. The softer aspect of the sea: soft lapping waves, the hiss of the sand, warm water.

In my half-asleep haze, I didn't react when the door opened. Or when Mom asked if I was okay. Dad's humming barely faltered. Weathered fingers drummed a pattern against my back.

"She's fine. She and Triton had a bit of a fight last time she was with me, and he's not keen on letting it go. It's part of the reason I wasn't concerned with her coming back here early."  The lie easily rolled off his tongue.

Mom replied. Her words swam past me. I blinked slowly. Was Dad doing something? Or was this just some other part of me that's screwed up?

"Sally, her friends are dead," he said softly. When he noticed how I tensed, he slid his hand over my back. The pressure was light, but also firm enough to keep me from shifting. His thumb rubbed at my shoulder blade; I pressed my head against his stomach. "I'm hardly going to fault her if she doesn't want to be around me."

Must have been him. I couldn't understand her. Grumbling, I close my eyes. Gods' auras were so weird.

"It's easier to keep myself in check if she's the one making the decisions. She belongs to me, and for now I'm fine with you keeping her. But--"

He stood--petting my head when I whined--and walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold.

"I will take her if I have to."

It took too long for me to realize that was a threat.

Fun fact: Most of the conversation between Percy and Poseidon has Peter listening in and trying his best to type what he hears into Google Translate

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, remember to vote and leave a comment and I will pat my little gray cat on the head and hope he doesn't consume my flesh

That's not a joke. he really likes trying to eat my arm

See yah