Prologue

"That's it, Percy Jackson." Annabeth chucked a hair dryer at his head, to which he ducked, the glass narrowly missing his face.

"Annabeth!"

"I won't hear it, Percy!" She slammed her suit case on the bed, throwing in clothes at random, not caring what came and what didn't.

He snatched her wrist, which she yanked away forcefully. "Annabeth, you're being ridic - "

"Don't tell me I'm being ridiculous, Percy!" she pointed her finger at his chest like a gun. "For years I've put up with this, but you've finally crossed the line."

She went back to angrily assaulting her clothing items, and he stood, fuming, unsure what to say to the girl he loved. After a moment, he spoke. "Annabeth..." His eyes traced to the matching bassinets. "What about...?"

"We'll...we'll...I don't know, okay?" She bit her lip, fingering the band around her finger. "I just can't take it anymore." She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I'll take Periwinkle with me."

"And I get Annaliese."

"Yeah." She breathed slowly. "Yeah. Yeah. Okay. That'll work." She turned to face him, realizing only then he towered over her. He tried to take her hand, to feel her one more time.

"Please don't do this," he whispered. "I know I screwed up, okay? And I know that sometimes I just - I'm so insufferable," he grinned. "You taught me that word."

"I love you, Percy." The statement lacked a passion he desired, and one she wished she could feel again. "I just can't anymore. I can't keep on with the fighting, with the abuse I give you and the abuse you give me. It's wearing us down. We weren't meant to be like that, Percy."

"I know, Wise Girl," he pushed back a curl. "I know."

He leaned to kiss her, but stopped. His eyes increased in size as he looked to the small sphere in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Percy." She squeezed out from under him, walking over to the bassinets. She picked up Annaliese, her nose burning. "I love you, sweetheart. And I promise I always will, okay? Daddy will take good care of you." Tears trickled down her cheeks. She sucked them in, kissing her daughter's temple a final time before placing her back in the cradle.

Anger fueled behind her grey eyes. She stomped over to Percy, once again aiming her cocked-finger-gun. "I mean it, Perseus Jackson. If you hurt my child - "

He took her hand, now ringless. "I won't."

"This is for the better," she spoke as if telling herself. "This will end the fighting. I'm so tired of fighting, Percy." She sighed. "We don't have to do this. We can take it to court and get visitations on each time for each of us - "

"No." he fingered her ring before lifting it to the mantle. "I don't want to fight anymore, Annabeth. I'll send you pictures." He raised his head. "But I'm done, too."

Her face took on a look of shock. Shouldn't he be begging her to stay? Sweep her off her feet? Kiss her? Forgive her? Fight for her?

"So this is it, then?" her tone lost all hatred. She closed the suitcase and went to getting together Periwinkle's things.

"If it's what you want, Annabeth." He, in likeness, picked up Periwinkle. He breathed in her fresh scent, the smell of a million oceans, just like him. Her bright green eyes looked upon him oddly, as if to say, Who are you? Why are you still here?

His lips pressed into her cheek. "I love you, Perri."

Annabeth slammed her carry on bag. "Perri?"

"Short for Periwinkle."

Her eyebrows raised. "See? This is what I mean! You make decisions without asking me!"

"Take it easy. I was just - "

"Just doing what you do."

"Ugh." He shook his head, placing his daughter back in her crib. "Now you're really being ridiculous." He should have stopped himself. "Are you PMSing?"

She grabbed the nearest thing: their wedding photo, ripping the frame and stripping the picture in half. "Take that as PMS." She snatched Periwinkle from her crib, gave a lasting look to Annaliese, and disappeared from his view.

He wouldn't admit it, but Percy Jackson fell upon his king sized bed, wedding ring in hand, and cried.

And, in her cab, Annabeth Chase did the same.

Twelve Years Later

Los Angeles, California.

"Annaliese! Dinner!"

I sighed, rolling over on my stomach, one leg dangling down from the tree branch. She'll never learn, kid. Blackjack whinnied above me, his once black wings now a dim gray.

"Tell me about it." Don't get me wrong. It's not that I didn't like Alice - she was sweet, beautiful, but young enough to be my older sister. I didn't know what Dad was thinking, dating her. I only hoped it didn't move forward.

He'll see it one day, kid. And look on the brightside. You have Camp tomorrow.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah. Camp." It was my first summer going away to Camp without Dad - I got to hang out in the cabin all by myself, could eat junk food, throw my clothes in the floor. Dad even told me Uncle Tyson would be there, which was great. I loved the guy, and Aunt Ella, too. It was fun to sit and listen to Aunt Ella tell her stories, a countless amount of tales she'd read and seen. They were my favorite bed time stories, once upon a time.

Alice's shrill tone cut my from my memories. "Annaliese! Now!"

"No," I jumped from the branch, rolling easily on the ground. Leaves fell on my face and Blackjack landed beside me. His muzzle nudged me. C'mon, kid. Don't make the pretty lady mad.

I ground, standing, swiping the leaves off. "Shut up, Grayjack. Get back to the stables where you belong."

Blackjack made a face I'm sure was a glare, before nodding and shooting off. I'll expect some sugar cubes for that insult, Mini-Boss.

I snorted. "Sure thing, Blackjack." I skipped inside the house, kicking a rock to the side on the patio.

"Annaliese, take those darn hands out of your pockets and get washed up!" Alice yanked on my hands, ushering me towards the sink. I snarled at her, shoving aside.

"I can wash my hands by myself, Alice."

"I'm not Alice to you yet, Annaliese."

"Alright then, Ms. Newman, I'm not Annaliese to you yet."

Our glares matched each other. Hers broke me down. "Wash. Your. Hands." She growled, throwing my wrists into the pouring sink.

She went back to cooking. I stuck my tongue out. "Wash your hands," I mocked in a girly voice much too high pitched to be hers. "You was your hands you snarly little - "

"Ah! Baby!" Alice giggled, tossing aside her food and running to meet my father in the doorway. He laughed, wrapping his arm around his waist as Alice kissed him passionately. I gagged.

"Yuck. Get a room."

Alice pulled away, and, I'll be honest, if looks could kill, I would have been on the fast track six feet under.

Before Alice and I started a war in the kitchen, Dad pulled away and walked over to me, rubbing my hair out of place. "How's my favorite kid?"

"Alive and kickin', as always." Dad nudged me.

"Did you have a good day at work, honey?"

Dad shrugged. "Made more money, right?" He draped his arm across my shoulders, hugging me and kissing my forehead.

"Daaaad." I pretened I was disgusted.

I never loved anything more.

"Oh, Annaliese, be nice to your father."

"It was a joke, Alice."

"Didn't sound like much of a joke. And it's Ms. Newman, Annaliese."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand, Alice. And, uh, it's Allie."

Her jaw clinched. "You little - "

"So, what's for dinner?" Dad elbowed me sharply, a side-effect from diffusing the bomb that was me and his girlfriend. I rubbed my shoulder gruffly, turning absent mindedly in my chair. ADHD.

Alice's smile slowly returned as she revealed what she called her "masterpiece" (aka, every other meal): the one thing I couldn't stand. "Your favorite, babe!" She slid him his plate. "Breakfast for dinner!"

"Disgusting," I muttered, picking at the pancake. She knew I hated breakfast foods.

As Alice crossed the rooms to wash her hands for the fifteenth time, Dad brought me in close. "Be good for dinner and tonight we'll rent a movie."

I wanted to resist. Honestly, I did. But the thoughts of a movie...

"PG-13 and over?" I whispered.

His eyes flashed for a moment, as if he wanted to warn me that my mother wouldn't like that. But I didn't know my mother. "PG-13 or over," he agreed, and so, bracing up, I put on a smile, forced myself through a couple bites of pancakes, and even complimented Ms. Newman on her shirt choice that day.

"Well thank you, Annaliese," she grinned falsely, taking another bite and leaning into my father.

I angrily stabbed a slice of bacon, pretending her head was under the fork.

Twelve Years and One Day Later

Surrey, England (forty miles outside London)

I was up before she called me. "Perri!"

I rushed from my room, suitcase in tow. "Present and accounted for!"

She suppressed a smile, handing me a pancake only Mum could make (...seriously. She could only make pancakes.) As a second thought, I walked over and placed three strips of bacon into the microwave.

"Do you have everything?" She ran through the checklist again, and I listened, I swear I did. It's just that Mum's lists got into the nitty-gritty of things - things I barely even noticed, let alone cared about.

"Sure, sure, yes, Mum." I stopped the microwave a second before it burst, swallowing a strip in three seconds flat. Mum instinctively reached for a piece. I hid it and hissed.

Her face was priceless as she sighed, rolling my boarding pass in her hand. "Well, I guess I can't let you go the Camp then..." she dangled the pass of the trash can.

"No, wait," my inherently British accent rolled off my tongue (after twelve years of nothing but crumpets, crumpets, hot tea, Sherlock! it's all you can say). "Oh, c'mon Mum! Don't do this to me!"

"It's the bacon or the trip, Periwinkle."

I glared. "Fine," I tossed her a strip, and she caught the small object flawlessly. I giggled as she devoured it in my likeness. "You win."

"As always," she chuckled, ruffling my hair, leaning across the bar.

Her eyes took on the faraway look I called the Vision. In the Vision, Mum imagines someone, something, and I no longer exist. It's like I'm some kind of looking glass to her, a portal to another world.

"Who's the Vision of this time, Mum?"

She didn't answer. Her grey eyes glazed over, and a sultry sound like leaking syrup spilled from her lips. "I love you, Percy..."

"Percy?" my voice sounded shrill. Her ears perked and she looked up, eyes wide as saucers.

"Perri," she corrected. "I meant Perri. Slip of the tongue." She coughed awkwardly, rubbing her hand where I knew her wedding ring used to reside. "I'll, uh...I'll go make sure everything's in tip-top shape, okay? Get your carry on and...yeah." I watched her limp away, her ankle more and more trouble nowadays. She'd told me of the time she and some old boyfriend had fallen into the pits of Tartarus, how Arachne, Grandma's greatest enemy, had pulled them down there. Her skin grew white when she told me the nicknamed Tales from Tartarus (because, for some odd reason, I have to make a joke out of everything). Her eyes went dark, and often she shook.

Once, when I was three, she recounted "The Boss Battle," between her, the Mysterious Green Eyed Boyfriend, and their biggest enemy - Kronos. As she talked, she seemed to grow farther and farther away until she was reliving the battle in my room. Her voice rang out, "Noooo!" and she began kicking and screaming, having one of the largest anxiety attacks I'd ever seen. Her hands flung around my throat and she started strangling me. "No! I won't let you take him from me!"

It was by some miracle that our butler and Mum's assistant, Malcolm, ran in and tore her away from me. The bruises sat on my neck for weeks. Mum never did look at me the same again.

I couldn't very well look at her, either.

Part of me wondered who the Mysterious Green Eyed Boyfriend was. Did I know him? I distinctly remember someone's smiling face, with thick black hair that hung slightly in his dimly lit eyes. In this vision he seems lost, confused, and very, very scared. Surely the Green Eyed Boyfriend wasn't my...

I shook my head. Malcolm made his rounds, stopping in the kitchen. "How goes it, mini-tike?" He ruffled my hair like everyone seemed to do, sitting beside me. I shrugged, leaning into him. "I'm heading to Camp today."

"No kidding," he held me at arm's length. "That's great, Pear!"

"Yeah, great for you guys. I'm just not so sure..." I couldn't get answers from Mum, that I knew.

So maybe Malcolm would spill.

"Malcolm?" I asked under my breath.

"Yeah, Pear?" he whispered back.

"Did you know my dad?"

The world stood still. Malcolm's mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. His eyes went wide ans came back down, wide and back down, and his skin grew sweaty all in a single instant.

Finally he choked out, "Wha-what do y'mean, Pear?"

"Never mind," like the ball of hormonal rage I was, I stood angrily and paced back to my room, leaving behind a plate full of a strip and a half of bacon and a pancake.

He didn't think I heard him, but he said, "I'm sorry."

What's this? Hannah lives? She writes ACTUAL stories? Whaaa?

But yes, I have returned! For now, at least. This originally started with an idea of Percy and Annabeth breaking up and Annabeth having a child Hermes and Percy with Aphrodite, when I had a revelation - why not Parent Trap it up?

I'm going to give it a shot, and I hope I can give you all a story worth reading.

Peace, Love and God Bless,

Hannah