1 Chapter 1

I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Everything except my OCs is the property of Rick Riordan.

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Eggs. Butter. Medium to high heat - woops to high. Stir. Stir. Pan off the heat. Stir, back on heat.

Once done, lightly season; salt and pepper should do. Aaaand a touch of crème fraîche for that extra creaminess. Decorate it with some chopped chives and… voilà — a simple set of scrambled eggs for a perfect start to the morning.

"You know, I remember a time when I usually made breakfast."

The kid behind the pan swivelled around to see his dad all packed and ready. Jonathan Sinclair. His denim jacket had one or two wrinkles and a small crease near his waist, but the nurse scrubs underneath were devoid of any imperfection.

That Chinese lady with the laundry shop on the street corner knew what she was doing.

His dad wore some old, blue sneakers — the ones he usually took on his shifts — and had a NY Yankees cap resting on his head. His grey eyes contrasted with his son's purple, but their light brown hair, tan skin, and sharp features were the same.

"Yeah, well, since you're gonna be gone for the month, I've recently taken up a new hobby," The boy smiled, satisfied with the golden presentation of eggs before him. "And I've been getting pretty good at it."

He set his plate down on the table side closest to him. His dad pulled out a chair, laying his rucksack to his side, and with his fork took one solid bite out of the carefully scrambled eggs. The kid watched him intently as the portion of scrambled eggs became less and less. Halfway through his meal, the dad stopped.

"Pretty damn good, Alex," he said.

Yep. That was him. Alexander Sinclair. A mouthful of a name, if he was being honest. Dad always said that he picked it because it was a strong name; like for a king or a warrior. Alex always thought he picked it because it sounded nice alongside the Sinclair surname.

Regardless, to hear those three words from his mouth was enough to sustain Alex for a whole week. Unfortunately, he was going to be away for much longer. No matter how many times Alex got used to living on his own, as is the reality of a travelling nurse family with no mother, he never got used to his dad leaving.

He couldn't imagine how it must have felt for him; having to leave his son on his own. But he was tough, his dad. The toughest Alex knew.

'The grass is greener where you water it' Dad always told him. That was the motto the man lived his life by. Alex reckoned that's what got him through the countless nightshifts he used to take to pay for his school in Queens. Strangely enough, his dad didn't seem to hate the nights.

And despite being one of the only men in his old hospital, not to mention one of the few single ones, and having to watch all of his friends succeed in life, Jonathan never allowed it to push him down.

Being a nurse was no joke, and having to see what he saw daily took a different kind of effort. It astounded Alex how he never complained, not once. His dad once said that becoming who you want to be is always going to be difficult and that taking shortcuts only delays the inevitable struggle.

Now you probably know why Alex admires him so much.

Thankfully, the struggle was well behind the two, as his dad started taking contracts with other hospitals a few hours away two years ago. Yeah, he could be gone for one month at times, but the money he got from these travelling jobs was more than enough to pay for Alex's school and to allow the adult some free time he could spend away from the hospital.

"Clearly I've got my breakfast sorted," He muffled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "What about you, pipsqueak?"

"I'll be fine Dad. I made an extra batch," Alex reassured him with a wave. "And don't call me that."

"Alright, kiddo," His dad chuckled, ruffling his brown locks. "Just don't be late for school."

Right, school.

Alex would start the second semester of his 6th grade at a school in Brooklyn. Thornbrook Middle and High. It was weird, having the high schoolers so close, but at least they were in a different wing.

Not that big of a move. Alex was born and raised in Queens, but Brooklyn was a short subway ride away. He'd miss living so close to the Citi Field though.

Now, remember Alex's dad's new contracts? With more money, there were no more debts, and it also meant they could leave their old apartment and get a new, better one, closer to an even better school.

So here they were, in a new apartment in a 'cooler' and 'more exciting' part of the city, with an awesome view of the Statue of Liberty that his dad wouldn't see for the next month.

What his dad didn't know was that Alex already knew the real reason they moved. Jonathan didn't want him growing up forever surrounded by a strong medical culture, as much as most of Alex's friends' parents and even Jonathan's own friends are a part of it. He wanted Alex to experience his own life.

Which Alex guessed was an okay reason but he'd still prefer to be as close to him as possible. All of his friends, activities and favourite food spots were left behind. He would occasionally catch the subway to meet up with some of his close friends, but without seeing them every day, it just wasn't the same.

If only his dad would buy him one of those Nokias, maybe it wouldn't be as bad… but he always refused when it came to phones — except the landline one. But Alex didn't know his friends' home numbers.

The first semester at Thornbrook took some time to get used to, and whilst it wasn't horrible, it didn't compare to home. Well, he guessed this was his new home now. His two-bedroom-apartment home.

After both of them enjoyed their meals, Alex finished cleaning up the kitchen along with the dishes. He'd woken up early to prepare his dad's meal before he left, so his bag was already packed.

"Okay this is it," Dad smiled as he slung his rucksack across his back.

Yeah, this was it…

He's had to leave more times than he could count, but it was different this time, and Alex didn't know why. He wasn't even paying attention until his dad put his hand on his shoulder, reading the distress on his face. He was good like that.

"Hey, I'll come back, pipsqueak. You know that right? I always do."

Alex looked up at him, not able to form any words, feeling his dad's hand across his head.

"How old are you now? 11 right?" He pulled some form of silverish ring from his pocket and placed it in the palm of Alex's hand. "Here, it was given to me by my father and his father before him… yada yada. It's seen a lot, and it's yours now."

He wasn't wrong. Alex was taught that the Sinclair family was a long line of important people: Warriors, doctors, architects, musicians, generals, writers…

The dad grasped Alex's hand firmly as he clasped the silver ring.

"Keep this close. If you ever feel alone or lost, just remember that I'm here," He gestured to the ring. "We all are. It'll help. I know it's gotten me through some thought situations."

"Then shouldn't you keep it?" Alex replied. "You're the one going away."

Dad chuckled. "I have a feeling you're going to need it more than I do."

"Okay Dad, school isn't that bad."

"I meant-" His face stiffened. He met Alex at eye level. There was a look in his eyes Alex had seen before. It was his 'I'm serious, Alex' look. "There's still a lot you don't understand. One day you will."

That caught Alex off guard. Dad always gave straightforward, methodical answers. He never left him hanging, but it felt like this time he did. Probably just a mysterious parent thing, but before Alex could process what his dad was trying to say, he quickly moved on.

"Oh, and remember: Phalanx."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I know Dad. 'Shoulder to shoulder'."

It was discipline his dad taught him and a term burned into his memory. A phalanx was a popular Greek military formation that consisted of soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, bronze shields and spears presented outwards. It made them impenetrable. But if one man was too reckless, undisciplined, and decided to aggressively go on the offensive, then the whole column would break. Used famously by the Spartan warriors of Greece.

Dad always loved the Spartan philosophy of discipline and duty. He kept going on and on about the Battle of Thermopylae. Alex always used to remark how those 300 Spartans ended up dying fighting the Persians, but he'd just look at him half-disappointed, telling Alex that wasn't the point.

All 300 Spartans died protecting their homeland, he'd say. They fought to protect, he'd say as well. That's who they were, what they did. To stop the conflict rather than cause it.

His dad also used to say that their family was the long line of descendants of someone even greater. Alexander the Great, king of Macedon. Who Alex was named after.

Though he found that very hard to believe, considering that would be extremely rare because… well… he died young, and his 'son' probably wasn't his son.

Dad nodded. "Good. And be sure to make friends. School isn't the same without them."

"Uhh," Alex groaned. "Yes, I know, Dad."

The adult smirked. "Just making sure, smartass. You know how you can get with that hothead of yours. I just don't want you to be there all alone with nobody."

"I mean, the school's resource officer is pretty cool though. The guy keeps spewing action movie references at me."

"Yeah… but I meant people your age, Alex."

"Don't worry about me, pops." Alex insisted. "I'll be fine. Just call the fixed line as soon as you can," he ordered, knowing well that 'soon' could mean anything.

"We should go spend a weekend at your grandfather's house in Richmond when I come back," His dad just let out a soft chuckle as he rubbed Alex's cheek. "And Alexander… always keep your head on a swivel. Things will probably change from now on."

Alex nodded, doing his damndest to hold a stoic expression.

They said their final goodbyes as Alex saw him exit the door and walk down the rows of apartment stairs. He watched his dad go down each flight of steps, a bit of him hoping that he'd come back up shouting 'The contract only starts next week! My bad!', but for obvious reasons that didn't happen. Once Alex was sure his dad had left, he stepped back into the now-empty apartment.

And just like that, his momentary feeling of familiarity had expired. He was back in their above-average apartment in Brooklyn, New York. The smell of freshly eaten scrambled eggs lingered around his nose. Alex looked over at the clock; 7:10. Yep, time to go.

He did one final sweep of the apartment, making sure everything was closed. Also made a quick stop at the bathroom as he fixed his hair, making sure it fell evenly on each side of his head. That meant not too much of the product his dad gave him as a Christmas gift. That did mean that occasionally a few strands of his hair would escape to the front of his face.

He'd been told once it looked cool, but Alex just found it annoying as it got in his eyes sometimes. He wore his usual plain Radiohead long-sleeve with some old and baggy jeans, finishing it off with a black Yankees cap. He liked to keep things simple. He also liked to wear a pair of white and black sneakers Dad had got him. Alex always found them extremely comfy and very sturdy. He slung one of the straps of his already prepared backpack across his shoulder and headed for the door.

Once he made sure the door was locked, he descended down the flight of stairs and out into the fresh Brooklyn air. Plot twist: it wasn't that fresh.

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A/N: Read the auxiliary chapter first. Also, welcome to my new story! The Harry Potter one will be put on standby while I figure out which direction to go, so sorry to the readers that came from there. 

Anyway, enjoy the story!