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Percy took another right, the alleyway he was in opening to show a ratty rundown playground. It wasn't ideal for a kid to play there, but this was Gotham, nothing there was really ideal for a kid... unless you were rich.
The ground was concrete, definitely safe for kids to fall on, but whatever. Percy grew up playing there. Getting scars, scraps and bruises playing on the equipment alone all day. It was his escape from home. From the constant yelling and arguing. From the occasional fist that would land on him from Gabe.
Moving closer, Percy took a seat on the rusted swing-set. There were three seats, but looking to his left at the broken, rusted through chains that held it up originally, Percy could tell the years were rough on equipment.
It was still dark out, whether it was late at night or early in the morning really depended on who was awake and who was awakening. The night had been like any other night in Gotham. Chaotic and loud.
Percy stared at his feet dragging on the concrete flooring. He wondered what he was doing. Why was he here? He needed a blessing from his mother, but his mom died years ago. Gabe had gotten the chance when Hades brought her back. The Bastard was a broken statue now, crumbling somewhere in Gotham. Percy gave Medusa's head a burial.
He hadn't told anyone that his mother died. Grover probably suspected it and Annabeth probably deduced it by this point. Nico could probably just tell.
Percy looked at the sky above him. It was clouded but empty. No billowing black smoke curling from a burning building. No loud evacuation sirens blaring. His grown out hair tickled his shoulder blades from his posture. His neck hurt from the uncomfortable position and his shoulders were hunched. He told Nico to drop him off at Gotham, that he'd get his mother's blessing, but she wouldn't like visitors.
That was a lie, his mom would be ecstatic that he brought a friend home. She'd probably already have a batch of her blue cookies cooking in her oven. She'd be drinking homemade lemonade with her hair tied up, wearing her old blue flannel bathrobe. She’d greet his friend with such enthusiasm that they’d want to stay for longer. She'd bring him into a hug, kiss his temple and run her fingers through his hair to comfort him. The smell of her lavender would waft to his nose reminding him of when they cuddled on the couch to watch movies on their small box TV and he'd hug her tighter.
If only...
Percy wanted to... laugh? cry? yell? Maybe all of it. He was supposed to get her blessing, dip himself in the Styx and lead a war, but sometimes each heavy gaze seemed to make the air tighter.
It felt like the position he was in was too big for him. Like shoes, several sizes too large. He had to be careful walking in them, taking slow uneven steps or he'd give the ruse of confidence away with the blisters that lined his skin, popping with each person lost. Each kid lost.
Percy took a deep breath in, letting the toxic smog of ol'Gotham fill his lungs. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there on the swing set staring at the empty sky, but the nightlife of Gotham was starting to calm down.
He stayed there even longer, just shuffling his feet on the concrete, pushing himself back, but never really swinging.
Then he felt a presence sit on the swing set next to him. Percy didn't look. He needed to find an answer, a solution to his unsolvable problem. The only way to survive the Styx was a mother's blessing. That's what Nico and him deduced, but his mom was dead. They hadn't searched the underworld. He didn't want to disturb his mother's soul. She probably went for rebirth. Percy hoped he was still his mother's son in his next life. The Fates would be cruel if they took that away too.
Percy stopped moving his feet, gripping the chains holding his swing tighter as he looked to his right. He was expecting another kid, maybe Nico, but sitting there in the dim lighting of Gotham, at maybe four or five in the morning was the myth himself. Batman. One of the core founders of the Justice League, the man who put on a cowl and went to war on behalf of Gotham as her knight.
Sometimes Percy wished that the mist didn't hide them as well as it did. Then he wouldn’t have to fight this war, the Justice League would help them. Would take care of it, let them be kids while the adults handled the problem. He felt guilty for thinking that. He couldn’t be a kid, for as long as he is a demi-god, he could never be a kid.
Percy wondered what an important figure was doing here, sitting by him in the dark night of Gotham, on a swing set of all things.
"What's a man like you doing here? Shouldn't you be fighting crime?"
He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but it slipped. The worst thing that could happen is Batman tearing him a new one with words before leaving, but that was the social anxiety talking, well, Batman didn’t even know who he was… probably.
"I'm taking a little breather before heading in. All the rogues are in Arkham tonight and... I trust my team to be there when I'm not."
Percy looked back down to his beat-up tennis shoes. Letting Batman's gravely voice resonate around them. He stayed silent. his head for once, quiet. He wondered how long that'd last.
His next words slipped out like a leaky faucet. He should really get that fixed.
"If you had to step up to a role you never wanted, but was expected of, would you? Even if you just want to run away because each loss is a chain tighter and another gaze heavier?"
It was silent for a moment. The man in the cowl digesting his question and the scared boy wanting an answer.
"...Yes. If it means I can save even one life. Then yes."
Percy noted how sure Batman sounded, but also how griefed, how heavy that self assurance was. When he searched Batman's cowl covered face, there was nothing but determination coming from him. The self assurance and sheer determination had Percy turning his gaze down to his dirty worn out shoes, once again dragging them on the worn out concrete beneath him. His eyes felt wet, his throat tight and every scar on his body burned.
He felt like an imposter.
"Even if the shoes too big?"
His voice was tentative and boyish. Even Percy could hear the insecurities in his question. He just hoped that Batman would ignore it. He couldn't look at the vigilante as he answered. He just... couldn't.
"...Yes. Even if the shoes too big."
Percy could feel Batman's gaze on him. It was scalding, reminiscent as to when Chiron oversaw his sword training after Luke. He felt the calculating gaze trace his every visible scar. It made him wish he was wearing his oversized hoodie. They sat in more silence. Percy let Batman's words sink into him.
"Could I-" Percy didn't know what he was saying, but his mouth was moving nonetheless. "-have the Batman's blessing? That everything-that it will eventually be okay?"
He stopped his shuffling. Moving his hands into his lap, he started picking at the skin around his nails. His body was slumped in on himself. Percy just wanted to disappear. Why did he ask that? Batman would never give him a blessing, Batman doesn't kill, yet he has. He exploded a boat that resulted in Beckendorf dying, He caused both Bianca and Zoë to die. He has killed.
Batman's voice was soft. It was odd to hear it come from his graveling voice.
" The shadows will be heavy, each loss will feel like a personal responsibility. The weight of it is heavy, it hurts, it always will. But... it will come to pass. You grow stronger, as unfair as it seems. ...Yes."
They sat in silence, as dawn sifted its light through the thick gray clouds of Gotham, they sat in silence.
Percy swung lightly, nothing more than the barest push from his legs, the swing set squeaking with each push. He let the Batman's, the man beneath the cowl's blessing sink in. He let every word wrap him.
They sat together in silence, listening as the city of Gotham slowly drew itself calm from its rambunctious nightlife. The peace of Gotham rarely ever felt, settled over them as they sat on the swings.
They stayed there for a while, neither saying a word, simply letting time pass.
Percy whispered a quiet 'thankyou' when he felt the man leave.
He stayed there, alone, sitting on the swing set as time slowly moved by. Even as the shadows thickened, stretching and expelling cold black mist for a waiting figure to slowly walk out of its shadows; He continued shuffling his feet on the concrete below the swing set.
"Have you made your decision, Percy?"
The figure walked into the dim lighting of Gotham's sunrise. Nico's face glittered, slightly translucent and bone white from his time spent in the shadows.
Percy wondered if Nico could sense that his mother was dead, but still indulged in letting him 'get his mother's blessing'.
"You will be doing this without a blessing. Are you sure, Percy?"
Percy sat up, looking at the empty swing seat on his right.
"Yeah, I'll take the risk. I may not have my mother's blessing, Nico, but it has to be done."
Nico gave him a knowing look. He put a hand on Percy's shoulder, letting the shadows thicken and the temperature drop as they slipped into the underworld.
I may not have my mother's blessing, but I have something close.
Let us hope it will be enough, Nico.
Let us hope.