A/N: I think this is my favorite oneshot, better that Loyal and Microwaves Explode. I loved writing this because Rick Riordan leaves a side to Rachel that you can totally fill in. So this is me, writing Rachel. Percabeth, implied Perachel. No heartbreak (for once). Enjoy and REVIEWWWW. :D

Pinpricks

Rachel Elizabeth Dare wrote her future in the sand.

It was just like that. She bent down and wrote something in Greek. She memorized it before the gentle waves lapped it away.

Flying on the helicopter to Manhattan, she whipped out her phone. All it took was a quick visit to Google Translate to figure it out.

Percy, you are not the hero.

And that was it.

She knew.

It was the first thing she saw.

It was a horrifying flash of green. She vaguely remembered curling up, and blurred voices talking. 'This is the most delicate part,' someone had said. But she wasn't listening. The inside of her head went black for a moment, and then it was filled with a bright, colorful image. No sound; just an image.

Percy was sitting alone by the sea. To see him again, his coal-black hair, his forest eyes; it hurt. Not much, but it hurt, a little. Annabeth was walking up to him with what seemed like a blue brick. She sat, and they talked, and they ate – it turns out it was a cake. Rachel couldn't hear them, but the words they spoke floated in the back of her mind.

She kissed him. He kissed her.

It hurt.

And then she was awake and she was sleepy and people were talking – to her. On autopilot, she answered. She was still thinking about her first vision as the Oracle of Delphi.

It was the first time since she wrote in the sand that she officially told herself, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, it ends here.

She blinked, and then she was falling. Someone caught her, they were discussing a prophecy. She didn't even remember anything. She didn't need to. She just wanted to rest.

And then it was like Apollo read her mind. She needed to rest, he said. Percy wanted her to stay. That hurt, too, although it was clear he didn't intend it to.

She had to go. Sure, she would see him so many times more, but she felt like this was the final goodbye. She looked at him firmly for the last time. He looked unsure of what might happen between them. What did they have?

A completely platonic friendship, Rachel told herself. I have to end it.

She kissed his cheek, willing herself not to cry. I could just not tell him, she reasoned with herself. He could figure it out for himself.

But no. She had to do it. She couldn't date anyway, so why prevent them from a happy future?

'Goodbye, Percy,' she whispered. 'And I don't have to see the future to tell you what to do now, do I?'

He blushed. 'No,' he said.

'Good,' she said. Then she turned and walked with Apollo to the Big House. It was the right thing to do; she knew it was.

But it hurt.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare had a wild imagination.

All artists do, really, but Rachel's wasn't just about her art. She wondered, sometimes, how she managed to trick herself. To trick herself, and maybe even Percy, into thinking what they had was more than friendship. It just seemed so natural. He had tied her to her other life. She couldn't let him fall away.

But that wasn't all. Upon seeing Percy, before she had become the Oracle, her heart would always flutter, her eyes would always brighten. But it was like she was telling them to do that. The thoughts in her head were, "It's Percy. I like him, remember? So I should be happier with him around." Rachel Elizabeth Dare also was used to taking charge. So she did … with herself.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare liked pretty things.

She liked lace, and flowers, and the sunshine and rainbows. Nothing she ever painted was ever sad or gloomy – except, perhaps, that one painting of Typhon (but she had done that one unconsciously anyway. It wasn't her fault). When she was little, she would read fairytales, and she would be so mystified at how the princess would always get a happy ending.

She especially liked Cinderella. At first Cinderella's parents didn't love her, but then she met her prince and everything was okay again. The story had a pretty ending.

Sometimes, even a few months back then, Rachel would picture herself as Cinderella, minus the being-a-servant thing. She would meet her prince.

Could you blame her, really, for thinking the prince would be Percy? He was perfect for the job. Gorgeous personality, gorgeous looks, gorgeous to Rachel. She really did think she'd have a pretty ending.

It wasn't love at first sight. Maybe it wasn't even love, at all. But it was enough for Rachel. She wanted to know what it felt like to be a princess, just for once.

She played along. She was an excellent actress. But now, when she was alone, she wondered.

She wondered how she managed to talk herself into thinking that she ever had feelings for Percy.

Old habits die hard. She still felt a flutter and a blush every time she saw him.

You know when you get a little stone in your shoe, and it hurts a little every time you step, but you know you have to ignore it and keep walking? It was like that for Rachel Elizabeth Dare, for a short while after she became the Oracle. Percy and Annabeth were stones.

Not heartbreak. That was most definitely not the word. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like for her heart to be torn in two, ripped apart brutally by lost love. But she could imagine what it felt like for her heart to throb painfully every time she saw them together, like a doctor's needle.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare never knew a day of heartbreak. But she knew half a year of pinpricks.

It truly did take her half a year to come to terms; fully, you understand. Sitting on the cliffside, watching a few helpful Athena kids (Annabeth included, of course) build her purple-curtain cave, she finally got it.

It's over. I'll never have a chance with him.

It's done.

And then, turning her face away from sight, she let two tears trail down her cheeks. But no, she wasn't crying for her loss. She wasn't crying for loss, for sadness, for anger, for pain.

She was crying for completion; for relief, for the weight that lifted from her heart; for gratitude that she didn't have to suffer a little every day anymore.

For the first time in half a year, Rachel Elizabeth Dare was …

… happy.

A/N: There goes the tear-jerking ending (not really, but yeah). Did you like it? Did you hate it? Did you love or hate my Rachel interpretation? Tell me aawwwlll about it in a review. I LOVE 'EM! :D