A/N: This is sort of an AU, kind of... mostly meaning that things occur in this that do not occur in this scene of the book. It's my story! I'm allowed.

Luke is the one character in this entire series that makes me want to hide in a whole and cry. I liked him in the first one! And then he turned all psycho evil... well, at least he redeemed himself in the end.

Luke wasn't sure what he had expected dying to be like. Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true – he'd been to the Underworld, after all. He knew what to expect when he got there... more or less. But the process of dying... well, that he had always wondered about. He'd never actually had an actual conversation with a dead spirit (He wasn't Nico di Angelo. He didn't see ghosts on a regular basis). There was no way that he could know what to expect.

Well, he was dying now, so at least that was one question answered.

Dying hurt. His left armpit was gushing blood, wetting his entire side with the liquid that made up his life force. It felt like the whole left half of his body had been set on fire, or worse, a pit scorpion had emptied its entire poison sack into his shoulder. It hurt so much he could hardly move. But at least Kronos had been defeated. At this point, that was all that mattered.

Looking up, he saw Annabeth, Grover and Percy hovering over him anxiously, eyes filled with grief. Even Percy, who had hated him for so long, looked pained at the sight of him. Grover's eyes were puffy, and he kept swiping at them furiously, trying to still the water leaking out. And Annabeth... she was the worst. She was covering her face with one hand, rocking back and forth as her body shook with choking sobs. Both of her arms were drenched with salty tears, and her eyes were so bloodshot that they looked like an empousa's. He watched as Percy placed a trembling hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, at least partway. A stab of jealousy temporarily hit him, but he suppressed it. He had made his choice – though now he saw just how wrong he'd been – and he had no right to envy Percy.

Blood continued to pour from his wound. Normally, a wound there would not likely kill a man – but of course, neither could an arrow in the heel, and look what had happened to Achilles. They bore the same curse. It made sense. Percy eyed the wound nervously, his hand brushing lightly against the base of his back. Luke smiled weakly. Contrary to what some had thought, he had grown rather fond of the son of Poseidon during the short time they had known each other. The boy's natural empathy for other people was intriguing. That thought made his heart ache. They could have been friends if he hadn't gone and been such an idiot.

Sighing quietly, the blonde turned his attention back to Annabeth. She smiled at him encouragingly, despite the heartbroken fear that still left traces on her face. He smiled back briefly, and then glanced at the others. Grover was bleating mournfully into his hand, and didn't notice his gaze. But Luke could feel Percy's sea-green eyes locked onto him, watching with something that seemed to be pity. Luke hated being pitied. It made him feel weak. Then again, he was, wasn't he? No strong person would have given themselves up to the Lord of the Titans like he had. So Percy had an excuse to feel sorry for him.

Shivering with apprehension, Luke permitted himself to meet the son of the sea god's gaze. His expression was unreadable. Briefly, the son of Hermes wondered if he was glad to see him go, but it didn't quite seem like that was it. Knowing Percy, there would have been obvious animosity in his eyes were that the case. It was more like he wasn't entirely sure how he felt. He wasn't happy about it by any means... but neither was he distinctly upset. Luke could see that much. After all he had done, he was surprised that the teen wasn't leaping for joy.

Then Percy's expression changed.

The regret on his face was obvious, the guilt and sadness that there had been no time to get to know his former friend better. So many opportunities that would never come... the hope of a potential friendship shattered. Luke knew how he felt.

He saw Percy nod at him grimly, dipping his head in respect. Luke smiled one last time. Then, his head fell as his consciousness drifted from his body. Luke son of Hermes was dead.

As his spirit drifted away, he heard Percy's voice echo around him, though whether the sound was real or not, he had no idea. Go, Luke. Be at peace... friend.

He was finally headed home.