Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson

A/N: I got this idea from listening to the song "Safe & Sound" by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. To be clear though, this is not a song-fic. (And no disrespect to The Hunger Games, because I'm a major fan and have developed an unhealthy obsession, but when I heard this song and thought of this idea, I just had to write it down!)

One-shot, takes place during The Sea of Monsters on the Princess Andromeda, OC, 2nd/OC's POV. Hope you enjoy!

"Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty." Stephen King

There are three loud raps on the door. I turn away from the mirror and look expectantly at the door.

"Harmony," a boy's deep voice rings.

"It's open," I answer. The door creaks open and a dark-haired boy pokes his head through, his eyebrows scrunched together, his lips turned down, his face forever in a permanent scowl.

"It's time. We're all wanted on deck." he states short, sweet and to the point.

"Okay, I'll be there in just a moment." I tell him turning back to the mirror, not waiting for a response. He gets the message and backs out, slowly and quietly closing the door.

Are you proud of me father? How do you feel now that I've turned against you and joined the Titans? Knowing you, you probably don't even care. That was always you, never caring, never there for me. You watched me and my mother as we struggled to get to Camp Half-Blood with monsters on our tail.

And you did nothing.

I reach for the curling iron and take a lock of my short, golden-blonde hair and wrap it delicately around the hot metal. It steams and temporarily smokes. I spritz it with water and it sizzles under the sudden cool. I count to thirty in my head and slowly remove the iron from my hair. Perfect spiral.

I set the iron down and un-plug it.

There.

Finished.

"Harmony." the boy's voice says again in a more authoritative tone.

I look at him through the mirror, my cold, frost-green eyes meeting his brown ones.

"One moment." I repeat in a hard voice. He glares at me and I give him a small smile back. Another moment of nonverbal threats and he backs out again, closing the door with a little more force than last time.

Why?

You asked me that one time on a field trip to Mount Olympus on the winter solstice. You knew that I was edging toward joining Luke Castellan, son of Hermes, in his quest to raise the Titan Lord from his prison and bring the gods down.

I stare back evenly unfazed by your anger, by your "hurt", by your "shock". It's all an act. I must admit you are a good actor. You had me there for a second, then you uttered that single word that would push me off the fence and onto the Titan's side.

Why.

Such a simple word, yet so complex.

Why are you so bitter?

Why do you hate me so much?

Why do believe these lies that the Titan Lord tells you?

Why, why, why.

And I reply with my own:

Why were you never there for me?

Why did you abandon me and my mother?

Why should I believe what you tell me?

How could you ever ask why, Dad, Apollo? Like you don't know.

I know. I replay it over in my head every single day in hopes that some of my brain waves are transmitting and hopefully getting to you; hopefully making you re-live the pain like I do every day.

You courted my mother. You got her pregnant. You left.

She would've given everything for you… she did. She gave up her job to take care of me in hopes you would come back and be the father that you never were. She gave up her house. She gave up her heart and lost.

At least she didn't abandon me. At least she took care of me as best as she could living in a homeless shelter in New York. She gave me her food if they ran out themselves, going hungry that night.

Did you even care? Did you even hear her prayers? Did you even hear her cries at night?

I did.

I loved her. I heard her pray when she thought I wasn't listening. I heard her let out sobs in the middle of the night, wrapped in her warm embrace, when she thought I was asleep. I felt her tears fall into my hair, onto my cheeks.

Then you had the audacity to come back only to tell her that I was in danger of being attacked by monsters and then up and leave again. You didn't even grant us safe passage; you didn't send someone to help us get to Camp Half-Blood. You left us out to dry.

She cried for seven whole hours after you left. Did you know that? Did you know that, even after all you'd done to her, to me, she loved you? She loved you with the remnants of what was left of her fragmented heart. You abused her love. You took us for granted.

Then the monsters came. We ran for camp. She knew that I'd be safe even if she wasn't and that was all that mattered to her.

She fought. I fought. We both fought long and hard. I learned how to use a gun at ten. We knew it wouldn't kill them. But it would hold them off, giving us enough time to run somewhere safe at least. And that was what it watered down to for those grueling seven days; seven days that felt like an eternity.

We were so close. Just a day away, said my mom. Just a day away. There's never a moment that I don't think about those words. You could've at least helped then. Our last day together. Our last day… ever.

I could see them and their ugly faces. Their glowing red, lava eyes. It's disgusting teeth, coated in thick, white saliva. Their size of a rhino. I always went first, even at the protests of my mother.

I walked forward that day letting out rounds straight at the head. But there was another that I didn't notice, it growled and my mother lunged forward, pushing me out of way. My head hits the ground, hard, and I black out for a second or two. When I come to my mother is standing over me, her eyebrows scrunched together in worry. I look into her eyes and she relaxes slightly.

Something was off. I could feel it. She looked… unnaturally pale and her breathing had become heavy and labored. But I was too young. I was stupid then. There were so many telltale signs. Her breathing, her skin color, the way she walked with a limp, the way she had one hand holding her side, buried behind her coat, blocking my view.

You knew. I know you did. You're the god of medicine. You could've fixed her. But you probably didn't care, you probably ignored it.

Are you hurt, mom? I asked. Not because I knew, but because she took on two hellhounds and we both got away alive while I had been conked out on the asphalt.

No, sweetie, I'm fine. She'd reply in a soft voice, smiling over at me reassuringly as we slowly made our way to an abandon warehouse.

There we slept. My mother leaning heavily against the wall in the corner, her head still covered by her coat. Me huddling on some cardboard boxes, my head in her lap. She runs her fingers through my hair.

One more day, my sweet, she croons gently as the sun outside begins to set, the dark and cold slowly creeping in. One more day and you'll be safe.

I want you with me, Mom. I whimper, tears streaming down my face at the thought of leaving her behind to fend for herself. All by herself.

I'm sorry, love. He told me that only you were allowed inside. But you're my strong little girl. I know you'll make it. Her smile hides the pain she feels inside. But tears managed to escape her eyes anyway.

I won't leave you, Mom! I won't! You can't make me! I sob harder. I was adamant. I wasn't going to leave her behind like that. I couldn't.

Shh, shh, she whispers, stroking my arm soothingly. Just close your eyes. She starts to sing softly as the darkness falls upon the city. The sun is going down. You'll be all right. No one can hurt you now. My eyes droop at the sound her soft, melodic voice. Come morning light…. You and I'll be safe and sound….

The last haunting notes float to my ears as I drift into sleep.

The next morning I wake and she's gone. My mother's gone. The wound on her side worse than she was letting on. That was why she was hiding it from me. She didn't want me to know.

Did you know that she was dying? Did you care? Did you love her? Why didn't you save her?

Why didn't you save her?

"Harmony!" the boys voice comes once again, breaking me out of my memories.

I blink and stand as he starts to say something.

"I'm coming." I tell him coldly, menacingly.

The boy's hard brown eyes follow my every move as I grab my sword and strap it to my waist. I then brush past him, out the door.

He snorts softly. "No armor again, I see." he comments gruffly.

"I'm not afraid of death." I reply as we make our way through the winding halls and to the top deck. "At least, then, I'd be with my mom."

He makes a snide comment, "Not likely."

I turn to look at him. He almost crashes into me, not ready for my abrupt halt.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him in a cool voice.

He stares down at me for a moment. "I'll pray for you." Still not done with the sarcasm.

Fine, two could play at that game.

I spin around and continue faster down the hall. "To who? The gods?" I ask as we come through the double doors and onto the top deck. Sea air hits me, and ruffles my hair. The boy leads me over to a small spot we can squeeze through. Percy, Annabeth and Tyson have already been brought aboard.

Are you proud of me, Apollo?

Are you happy?

Because I am.

"The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body. After all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind." Francois de la Roche Foucauld

Sorry if I got some of the mythology wrong—with the guns and all—but Annabeth managed to survive with a hammer so… it must do some kind of damage, right

Also, I wrote this a while back and am just deciding now to post, so I'm not exactly back online and posting again. For any of my fans for my other stories, I apologize for not updating, but if you'll just wait until May, I'll be updating all my stories (hopefully) like nobody's business.

Again, hope you enjoyed!

thank-you-for-everything

~ See you at Camp Half-Blood!