Percy knew it well. The lobby of DOA recording studios. Even though it had been years since he last visited, the memory awakened like a fresh wound.

The same Muzak played in the speakers, as if it were on replay for the past half decade. The same black leather furniture was lined up against the same steel gray carpet and walls next to the same skeleton-hand like pencil cacti. The same raised security desk still held the same tall, elegant, dark-skinned, tortoiseshell-shaded, Italian-suited, bleach-haired man. He didn't as much as glance up when Percy entered.

Percy took notice of his surroundings. It was as full as ever, just like that night when he came with Grover and... Annabeth. His heart leapt at the thought of her name, a warm feeling spreading through his soul, dispelling the remaining depression he faced in the mortal world. Annabeth. Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth. He would be seeing her soon, he knew it. He had to. There wasn't a moment to lose.

"Take me to the underworld."

Charon looked up at the simple, straightforward demand. His lips curled into an emotionless smile.

"Ah, it's you," he drawled. "Tell me, did you drown in a bathtub again? You, the satyr, and the girl?"

Percy's heart twisted at the reminder of Annabeth.

"Take me to the Underworld," he repeated again. Firmly. Charon's eyebrow twitched.

"How did you die?"

His eyes flickered to the hole in Percy's chest.

"My heart was gouged out of my chest."

His voice dripped with sarcasm, and yet Charon sensed a truth to it. His eyebrow didn't lower, but he let out a long-lasting sigh like he had much better things to do than talk about Percy's death. Like watching endless souls moan in complaint as they begged for passage to the Underworld or a passage back to the mortal world.

"Very well." He sighed again. "I suppose you did pay five years ago... got me this fine suit..."

Percy eyed it in his peripheral vision. It didn't seem any different from the one he had first seen. He decided not to comment.

"Here you go, lad."

Charon let his hand hover above a green boarding ticket before ripping it off and thrusting it at Percy. "Wait for the boat to be full and I can take you across."

"And how long will that take?" Percy managed, eyes straining to the elevator as if searching for a sign of Annabeth. But she was long in Elysium. It had been months since her death. Months since he had last seen her. Months since his soul vanished before his life.

"Oh, maybe another few days or so," Charon said. "Consider yourself lucky... some people have to wait centuries."

Percy's hand twitched and before he knew it, Riptide was out of his ghostly pocket and aimed at Charon's throat.

"Is the boat almost full?" he asked, his voice deadly quiet. It was the same voice he used in the last weeks of his life, the voice that had given Clarisse goosebumps and silenced Travis and Connor.

Even though Percy couldn't see him behind the glasses, he had the impression Charon was staring cross-eyed at the blade between his eyes.

"Erm... I believe so," Charon stammered. "Our last passage there was months a... ago..."

Months ago. Percy exhaled through his nose. "Take us across."

"Of course..." Charon stood up so quickly from his chair that Percy heard a crash from where it met the wall. "Right this way, sir."

Percy finally lowered Riptide and capped it, striding forward to the elevator.

"What're you staring at?" He snapped at the souls waiting in the lobby. He never got an answer as the elevator doors slid shut.

Then suddenly, they weren't there. The floor rocked and Percy peered over the souls clouding his vision. His heart hammered in his throat.

The River Styx pushed them along, desolate and black as ever. Percy mindlessly let a finger trail in the murky darkness, then drew his hand back as the familiar burning sensation ripped at his ghostly nerves.

"Oh, don't do that," Charon chided lightly. "You'll burn up your soul before you even get to Cerberus."

Wisely, Percy retreated from the edge of the boat.

Finally, he could see the castle of Hades. It seemed so long ago since he was drawn here against his will, with Nico and Thalia in the search for Hades' sword. His heart tugged at the memory. Nico and Thalia... Nico was gone, taken to the Underworld like the rest. Like him. Thalia was with her hunters, fighting off the pain with the remaining support she could get from her sisters.

The boat grated against the rocky shore of the Styx's tide. Percy leapt upwards and out of the boat, acidic water lapping at his ghostly heels. He could see the line for judgement and his heart sank as he took it in — it would take weeks before he was judged.

"Oh, go on then." Charon waited impatiently. "If you want to be in so fast, just go through the EZ Death line."

But Percy was not going to Asphodel. Grinding his teeth, he slipped into the line. Souls of every age stood, waiting for their judgement. Slowly, the line moved. One by one, the souls drifted forward to Asphodel, or more rarely, the Fields of Punishment. No one entered Elysium.

"Next," rant the low drawl of the judges. Percy stepped forward, every fiber of his being wanting to bolt for Elysium where he knew his Wise Girl was waiting.

"Perseus Jackson," the left one said. "Son of Poseidon?" He clicked his tongue. "That's not good."

"So I was told," Percy muttered.

"Hero of two big prophecies." The middle one leaned forward. "And... offered godhood!"

There was much muttering from the other two.

"Declined... and for love!" exclaimed the right one. 

"Taken by Hera — Praetor of the Romans in two weeks!"

Then they all fell silent.

"Tartarus?" The left one asked in disbelief. "Another one?"

"That makes four in this generation!"

The middle one whistled. "Wow. The gods really are raising their quest expectations, aren't they?"

Percy stared impatiently at them.

"Oh, go on then."

The table split, revealing an archway intricately decorated, a stone path leading in through. In contrast to the gloomy darkness of the DOA lobby, the River Styx, and the view of Hades' palace, it was like Olympus.

That's the point, Percy realized as he walked through. It's supposed to be Elysium.

He heard the grinding of stone on stone as the archway closed back again, and Percy couldnt hold it in anymore. He broke out into a sprint, pelting down the cobblestone paths like his life depended on it. He'd waited too long.

Then he saw them. Standing in a semi-circle around the entrance archway to Elysium. So many familiar faces that he ached for every day. Jason and Piper and Frank and Hazel and Nico and Will and Reyna and other campers that had stuck in his mind. Castor and Pollux. Malcom. An unclaimed camper he helped show around. A daughter of Apollo that he accidentally hit in the arm when he tried to practice archery.

Percy skidded to a halt in front of them, eyes scanning each face eagerly. She wasn't there, but the elation of seeing them drowned out his longing, even if only for a moment.

"Hey, Percy." Frank smiled, his wounds from the battle gone.

"We missed you here," Piper said.

"Well, I'm here now."

"But why?" Reyna asked, stepping forward. "You were a survivor. One of the few left. The camps needed you."

"But I needed her," Percy whispered simply.

No one needed to ask who "she" was.

"Where is she?" Percy asked in a stronger voice.

"By the fountain," Jason said. "In the center."

Percy ran forward, pushing them out of his way. She was here, so close....

Then he saw her. She was sitting on the edge, looking down into the massive fountain that tricked gracefully down, showing scenes of earth at the bottom. It was showing whatever the watcher wished. He saw Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter standing around the campfire as the remaining twenty campers burned a shroud. Sea Green with a silver trident etched beautifully on it. The flames were low and blue.

Her golden hair swished as she turned around from the scene, standing up from the marble edge of the fountain. Her gray eyes sparkled as she spotted him, her lips parting in a smile.

"Wise Girl," Percy whispered.

"Seaweed Brain," she murmured. Then she opened her arms. "Welcome home."