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He makes it up until he spots the mountain laurel bush.
Grover’ll admit he feels pulled in all directions nowadays, but he thinks he’s been handling it well. What started out as a backpacking dream, up and down the coasts to lend a hand in healing nature one step at a time, somehow became a strange pilgrimage on finding a new nature deity with all fingers pointing to Grover himself. From fellow satyrs bowing and deferring to his ideas as ‘Pan’s chosen’, to dryads tugging at his ears after feeling abandoned for so long, it seems like everyone he meets has a problem that only he can fix. There’s land disputes, pollution issues, environmental catastrophes and the fallout from Gaea’s near rise and apparently the only one who could solve it is the ‘New Lord of the Wild’.
He’s tried to explain, to deaf ears, that he’s no Lord. That he’s not Pan, that they have to work together to fix their problems in this new, Pan-less world. When that doesn’t work, he awkwardly laughs off any proclamations of eventual deification and decidedly ignores any sort of new skills that go beyond a normal satyr. Skills like sensing where injured animals are from miles away, Sanctuary blessings spreading much further than the intended targets, or communicating with the plants without grounding. And it’s fine, up until it’s not.
He’s in between a territory dispute when he sees it. The flourishing, flowering bush off the creek’s bed with tiny white flowers. And somehow Grover can Tell, that once upon a time this plant had a name, had horns and hooves. And Something within him can still hear the bleating voice, Knows the story of a hopeful seeker cut short by getting between a son of Demeter and a Cyclops. He can Hear the Plant that once Was frantically calling out in the presence of Pan’s essence. My Lord, My Lord!! The Laurel cries, We’ve found you!
It’s too much.
Grover cuts off from the dryad ranting about the nymphs that moved in an acre away thanks to the new suburban expansion with a sudden apology and is darting through the forest at speeds he shouldn’t possess.
He’s nearly hyperventilating when he finally stops, half collapsing against the cluster of trees he found himself in. He doesn’t know where he is (but that’s a lie, isn’t it, because he might not know but he Knows – halfway into Jersey in the heart of the Pine Barrens, at a bog born clearing that just had a control burn within the last year. The tree’s still brushed with char, and the plants unearthed from the burnt needles are just starting to spring to life, little ferns peeking through the cleared out bed of leaves and debris), but he knows that he’s alone. He can breathe, finally.
If only he could actually catch his breath. But of course he couldn’t. Stupid Grover, Coward Grover, Going To Let Everyone Down Grover– the tears start before he even realizes.
Within moments the trail of fat tears erupts into heaving sobs.
He can’t handle it! All these people want to look to him for guidance? He’s not a leader! He’s not even a good satyr!
He’s so stuck in his head that he doesn’t hear the flap of wings and dense clop of grounded hooves, nor the whinny of a pegasus before it takes to the skies once more. He doesn’t register the figure, familiar and comforting, settling down against the tree next to him, taking his hand, and talking, repeating something over and over.
When he’s finally coherent enough, and not completely blinded by tears, Grover finds himself at the forest floor, distantly watching the water show in front of him– a bubble of water that's risen up from the bog’s surface, orbiting around slowly almost like a lava lamp. It’s calming. A moment later his ears finally start to work again.
“You’re okay, G-man. Just breathe. I’m here. I got you.”
Just Breathe.
Okay.
He can do that.
Calmed down with tear lines still sticky on his cheeks, Grover takes a moment to lean in to his friend before asking, “Percy? How’d you find me?”
The demigod startles a bit, but doesn’t let go of the satyr's hand, “Felt like you were having a bad time, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help?”
Grover’s cheeks color, embarrassed. “Well, uh, I’m fine now, just a bit overwhelmed. Sorry for making you come out here.”
“Nice fucking try, Goat Boy.” Percy shoots back, “We’ve gone through entire wars and I haven’t felt you this stressed. What’s up?”
And Grover? Well, he’s never been good at lying in general, but certainly not good at lying to Percy. So he breaks.
“I just feel like I’m going to be letting everyone down!” The tears spring back in Grover’s eyes as he explains. “Everyone keeps looking at me like I’m Pan, like I can fix everything but I can’t!
I’m not special, I’m just a satyr! A stupid satyr who got caught by Polyphemus and trapped by Morpheus, and who found Pan but did nothing but watch him die.”
Percy doesn’t respond at first, the son of Poseidon’s thumb gently rubbing up and down the satyr’s knuckles before finally speaking up.
And for a moment, Grover’s 23 again, stumbling through Yancy on a second chance he doesn’t deserve. He’s collapsed on the floor thanks to some bullies taking a swipe at his crutches only to look up and see the suspected demigod he’s here to find, standing protectively in front of him with his arms crossed and glaring with such ferocity that the satyr is halfway to planning on how to introduce the kid to his inevitable Ares cabin siblings. The caustic tone that a then 12 year old Percy’d used against Nancy and her cronies is the same one the demigod uses now.
“Did someone say that to you? Who was it?”
“Nobody told me that! I just know!”
“How do you know?”
“I can just tell from the way people look! Like they want everything fixed and are annoyed that I can't do it!”
“So there is someone, is it the other satyrs? The old council?”
Grover can practically hear the gears in Percy’s head turning, no doubt seconds away from tromping up to the old council to demand that they lay off his friend. What a silly, loyal demigod.
“Percy.”
“What?” the demigod balks, “I can’t want to know who’s been making my best friend feel stupid?”
“Look, it’s not important.” Grover shakes off Percy’s annoyingly effective protective glare. “No one’s called me stupid, I just feel like I am when I can’t help everyone and I’m just a bit overwhelmed with all the people who need my help.”
Still not satisfied, Percy says “Do you need me to talk to them? ‘Cause I can pull some strings with the naiads thanks to dad. They’re immortal nature spirits, they can learn to wait their turn.”
(Leave it to Percy not realizing that his title as savior of Olympus would have plenty of sway in its own right, Grover distantly thinks.)
“I just don’t understand why all the nature spirits think I’m the answer they’ve been looking for. I’m just one guy!”
Percy takes a moment to think, before saying “I think you’re selling yourself too short G-man. Yeah, to me you’ll always be the amazing flying lawnmower oof–” Grover gives him a playful shove here, peppered with a watery chuckle, “but to everyone else? You’re the satyr who retrieved the golden fleece, the one who found your god and carried his message! I mean, for Chaos sake, you turned Hyperion into a tree! Sometimes you just have to admit that there’s gotta be a reason they believe that you can help.”
“I’m scared, Perce.” Grover confesses, “I'm scared that I'm not going to be enough. But I'm also scared that I'm different now, and that's why they keep looking to me. I can do things that I shouldn't be able to, sense things that are way beyond a satyr. I'm scared that they're right and I'm still going to mess it up.”
Hey, Stop. Breathe.
The blob of cranberry bog water Percy’s been conducting floats lazily above the two, the afternoon sun painting it with warm oranges and yellows. They sit in silence until Percy speaks up.
“Did I ever tell you about what happened in Tartarus?”
He didn’t, they both know he didn’t. For as much as they have a deep empathy bond, Percy’s trip to close the Doors of Death was strictly Off Limits. Officially ordained by Mr. D even with a mental block to keep Grover from going cuckoo by proxy until Percy could get the help he needed. Even after several sessions, the barrier is still there, for Privacy, the God of Madness explained. Playing along, Grover shakes his head.
“Wise girl and I ran into a lot of problems down there, but the worst was right before the end. We needed a– spell thingy to keep us undetected, and the only one who had it was Ahklys. She tricked us, started to poison us and just before the end I realized that poison's mostly water, right? That I could take the poison away from her. That I can redirect it back to her.” Percy stops here, eyes shadowed with something deep and haunted. Grover gives their hands, still entangled, a gentle squeeze.
“And that helped you survive, got you back up here.”
“I scared Annabeth then, Grover. She was terrified, made me promise to never do it again, that ‘Some things shouldn’t be controlled.’”
"What?” That part of Grover that feels the untamable wild clinging deep in his bones bristles.
"Not important.” Percy shoots back, brushing off Grover’s furrowed brows that promises this isn't the last they've talked about this.
Percy picks up as if he wasn't so rudely interrupted, “But even if I’m keeping that promise that doesn’t mean I can’t still feel it, you know? So even if it’s not a normal Poseidon kid thing, I can survive a pit scorpion sting longer than anyone should, I can sense where someone’s been struck by a poisoned tipped weapon and I can tell you that there’s some Poison Sumac shrubs clustered at the far edge of the water and I don’t even know what a sumac is.” Percy finishes off with a handwave across the bog to the small, red trunked bushes with a slight exasperation.
“So it doesn’t matter if you’re a bit different, a bit weird – I’m in the same boat, have been since we met. Whatever happens,” Percy concludes, “You’ve got me. We’re in this together.”
And somewhere deep within Grover’s chest finally settles.
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Years later, The new Lord of the Wild stands sturdy in the heart of a torrential downpour. He doesn’t speak loudly but the wind still carries it as if it were shouted from the rooftops.
“Just Breathe, Perce, I’m here. I got you. We’re in this together.”
The rain, and the new godling causing it, settles.
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