Annabeth and her roommate Kayla made their way into the locker room after their last class: Gym. Kayla, like all the other girls, was completely drenched in sweat. Annabeth on the other hand barely had any perspiration on her skin, though she had done the best. The coach had let her know it.

"How are you," Kayla paused to pant, "not tired? Coach Wyren threw some of her best material at us!"

"I work out a lot." Annabeth shrugged. "That was nothing."

"Yeah," Kayla said with a tinge of jealousy, pinching at Annabeth's bicep. "Nothing under there but lean, mean muscle. How'd you do it, anyway? Seriously. You belong on the cover of Hot and Way-Too-Fit Has-To-Be-Photoshop magazine, or something." Annabeth laughed and opened her locker.

The steam from the individual shower stalls fogged up the small mirror in her compact metal rectangle. That, her regular clothes, a towel, and a picture of her two-month-and-still-going-strong boyfriend Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, were the only things in there.

Kayla glanced over and whistled. "Even though you're hot and stuff, your boyfriend is way hotter. Wish I could ring in a guy like that." Annabeth knew her roommate didn't mean anything about that comment, and, as she looked at Percy's windblown black hair, charming yet goofy grin, and sea green eyes, she couldn't help but agree; her Seaweed Brain was hot.

A girl exited one of the shower stalls, towel covering her hair, freeing it up. Annabeth glanced over her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm gonna start on my shower," she said. "You'll have the next one, since your still finding your clothes. Alright?" Kayla needed to clear up her locker. Annabeth's left hand twitched impulsively to fix it, but she told her ADHD and slight OCD to calm down.

"Sounds good."

She nodded and left Kayla for the direction of the shower, towel and clothes in hand. After entering she locked the door behind her and placed her fresh things down next to the door. She stripped out of her gym uniform and entered the shower, turning it on.

After ten minutes–how long of showers the school expected them to take, but usually most of the girls went over the limit–Annabeth turned off the spray and stepped out, drying herself on her towel. She put on her underwear, buckled the belt buckle of her jeans, and was about to go for her shirt, but a pale arm flashed under the door and snatched it up.

Without thinking, (her mother would not have been proud) Annabeth whipped open the door to find the culprit before the taunting could start. Karrie Cinder, one of the all girls' school's many snobs, held her shirt captive in one hand.

All heads whipped around to the shower stalls, and all eyes widened in shock when they saw Annabeth, including Karrie's. At first she thought it was because Karrie hadn't known who she was messing with. But then, not a second later, Annabeth realized they were focusing on her torso area, and looked down. When the puzzle pieces came together, she could barely keep in a gasp of horror.

Her scars. All the girls in the locker room could see her scars.

Some of the damaged skin was only pale lines that would heal soon and weren't too noticeable.

Most of them were slightly pink, ugly, bumpy strips or circles of matted flesh.

Karrie burst out laughing. "Look at the abused girl!" she crowed. "Most of you said she was hotter than me, but that was with her shirt on. Now look at her! She was shipped here because her parents were too tired of whipping this pathetic creature." She directed a look at her pose.

They allowed uneasy snickering, their makeup covered eyes still widened in horror at Annabeth's torso. "She does look pretty ugly now," one of them said.

Something burned behind Annabeth's eyes. Rage. Or, at least, she hoped. She scanned the crowd. Kayla wasn't there. Probably taking a shower. "Why don't you just bug off," she growled.

"Oh no," Karrie said without anything but mockery. "We poked at the Tarzan. She must have had to pick a fight with a few apes to get those." Annabeth clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders. These dumb bullies had no idea what she'd fought.

"Rabbits," corrected Carter, one of the girls who starved herself. She out of all people couldn't comment about Annabeth's physic, but yet, she was.

"And she probably lost!" a girl named Jen called out.

"She probably took throwing up pills to get those abs," said a girl from Karrie's group who took throwing up pills herself.

"Probably cuts herself, too," Carter added. Annabeth curled her fingernails into her palms and pressed so hard that she could feel she was breaking skin.

"Yeah. Pity that," Karrie said with fake sympathy. "Tried to make herself pretty but couldn't, and ended up cutting herself. Pathetic." She waved Annabeth's shirt in front of her face like she was a bull. "Can't hide behind this shirt anymore, huh? We all know how ugly you–ARE!" The last part came out as a yelp because Annabeth had grabbed the arm that held her shirt and twisted it behind Karrie's back. She cried out.

Annabeth leaned down to whisper something menacing in Karrie's ear–something like "I'd run if I were you" or around that idea–but something was caught in her throat. Her eyes burned more intensely, and she tried to swallow down whatever was keeping her from fully putting the whimpering bully in her place. But she couldn't force the lump down.

Instead, she just grabbed her shirt back, pushed Karrie into her friends, and sprinted out of the locker room, pulling on her clothing before dashing around the first corner. She barreled through the open doors, earning startled looks from a few teachers.

She didn't know where her feet were taking her, but Annabeth needed to get away, far, far away, from the boarding school.

The Second Titan War had ended just two months ago. Annabeth had been close to dying, and although the god Apollo had healed her wounds to perfection, it hadn't made the scars from before disappear, and it didn't stop new ones from showing up.

Slight wetness rolled down her lower eyelids, and she furiously wiped it away, not stopping to take a break. Annabeth continued to run. She pushed people out of the way, earning a few "Watch it, girlie!" 's from angry New Yorkers.

Her scars had never been something she could control. When Annabeth, or any demigod, really, ate ambrosia, sometimes it never healed the wounds correctly to make perfectly smooth skin. In result, it scarred, epically when there was more than one cut. And Annabeth usually had more than one cut. She had been doing this demigod thing where she got attacked by monsters every five seconds since she could remember. She also had been at Camp Half-Blood, where lethal training was involved, for nine years, longer than any other camper.

Annabeth's thoughts stopped clouding her senses when she arrived at a familiar dull powder blue door in a familiar apartment building. Percy probably wasn't home from school yet, and even though she really did love Sally as a mother, he was the one she wanted. She was in the mood for silent cuddling where she wouldn't have to talk, even though she wasn't a cuddler and she was a talker.

But maybe Sally had some advice. She had once been a teenage girl, too. Annabeth brought her hand up to knock, and that she did.

"Coming!"

Sally was at the door in thirteen and a half seconds. When she opened it, her motherly smile brightened and she chirped, "Annabeth! It's good to see…" She faltered when she saw the look Annabeth's face. She reached out, probably to wipe off some of her tears that Annabeth just took notice off, but she quickly beat her to it. "Oh, Annabeth, dearie, what happened?"

She tried to say something, but it came out as a pained sigh. She cleared her throat and looked down. "You know what? It's stupid." She turned on her heel. "Sorry to bother you, Mrs.…"

A warm hand caught her elbow and Sally pulled her into a motherly hug, which was kind of awkward, since Annabeth was taller than the older woman. She tensed, not one over the moon for physical affection, but she let herself relax with a sigh and returned the hug.

Sally pulled away, only slightly, to look her in the eye. "Now, dear, tell me what's wrong," she demanded softly.

"Well, I…" Her voice broke, and she covered it with a lame cough.

The older woman sighed, knowing it would take either time or Percy to get her to open that warrior shell of hers. "Let's get you some tea, yeah?" She looked down, and her eyes widened. "And some ice." Annabeth looked down and realized she had never grabbed shoes. Her feet were cut and raw, leaving a little crimson blood on the wood floor. Her toes curled.

"That…sounds good," she admitted hoarsely.

Sally pulled Annabeth into the apartment and shut the door. She carefully tugged the younger girl into the kitchen, where she made the blond prop up her feet on the kitchen table and wrapped a cold wash cloth around each to clean it. Sally got to work on the tea, and when Annabeth cradled a warm mug of it, the door opened, followed by Percy announcing, "Mom! I'm home!"

"In the kitchen, dear," Sally answered. Percy moved towards the room she was in. "Annabeth is here."

Percy quickened his pace, a spring in his step. He loved it when Annabeth was over. He loved his girlfriend. So for Percy to see her sitting at his kitchen table, her eyes puffy and her face red, her hair gone un-brushed and her feet cut and raw, made a hand squeeze over his heart.

He was at her side in an instant, kneeling down next to the chair she was in. "What happened, Wise Girl? Are you okay?" He reached out to cradle her jaw. Annabeth leaned into his touch. She bit her lip and screwed her eyes shut, but a tear escaped. Percy instantly kissed it away, because he hated it when she cried. He always had, always will. He had a strong dislike for seeing her in pain.

"Dear," his mother said soothingly to Annabeth, "Percy's here now. Why don't you tell us what happened and we can sort this out?"

Her beautiful gray eyes fluttered open again. Her gaze switched between Sally and Percy, before finally staying on Percy. "Yeah. Okay."

Slightly shakily, she explained what happened in the locker room and all the things the girls had said.

If Percy had been holding something other than Annabeth's face, he would have snapped it in half. He had to take one of his hands back and clutch the strap of his backpack so tightly that his knuckles turned white, just to relieve some of the tension.

"I'm sorry. I told you it was stupid, Sally," Annabeth mumbled, not sounding like she thought it was entirely stupid. She looked down. "It sounds like such a silly thing to get worked up over. I just…"

"Hey, now." Percy stood up so he could wrap his arms around her. The position was kind of awkward because she was sitting down and the back of her chair was between them, but he stayed like that and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Nothing you do is silly or stupid. What those girls said was mean and wrong. You're beautiful and amazing and gorgeous."

Annabeth leaned her head back against his chest, a tiny sob escaping past her lips. "But they were right, too," she insisted quietly. "My scars, Percy, they're…they're hide–"

He stopped the last word with a kiss. Nothing about Annabeth was hideous. He hated the girls who were making her think that she was. He pulled away from the kiss. "Your scars are a part of you, and I think you're beautiful," Percy said. He put his lips back on hers. "Every single inch," he murmured against her mouth.

"Percy's right, dear," Sally said, pulling up a chair. "You are in peak physical condition. You literally have the blood of the gods flowing through your veins. You are a smart, beautiful, confident young lady, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, dear." Annabeth nodded, though still didn't look entirely convinced.

"Can I show you something?" Percy said into her blond curls, having an idea.

"Sure," Annabeth muttered. She allowed Percy to tug her up.

He turned to his mom, clutching Annabeth's hand in his. "Can we…?"

Sally nodded. "Do whatever you need to," she said. She placed motherly kisses on both Annabeth and Percy's foreheads, then sat at the counter in front of her computer.

"Thanks." Percy led Annabeth into his room and shut the door behind them. He faced her and placed his hands on her hips, right at the hem of her shirt. "Can I show you something?" he repeated in a whisper.

"Yeah," she murmured, a little breathless. She stifled a sniffle.

He tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear and cocked his head to the side. "Can you watch me?" he asked, again a whisper.

"I…" Annabeth hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

Percy slipped his hands under her shirt and slid them over her abs with the intention of taking the article of clothing off. Annabeth caught his wrists, forcing him to stop.

"Percy," she whispered, and her voice cracked. A tear escaped her eyelid. "Percy, I-I don't want you to see…"

He leaned over and kissed the droplet of water, keeping his lips planted there. "Can I show you something?" he whispered again, more plead to his voice then the last time.

"Percy…" she tried, but the force she was using to keep his hands down slackened. Percy tugged her shirt off her torso and up over her head.

Her scars and few burn marks were out in the open for Percy to see. He knew Annabeth had at least some, since he had had some too, (though his bathe in the River Styx washed them away) but this…there was a lot of them. Too many of them, he thought when he realized that she would have had to be hurt many times over for her to have this amount. A strangled gasp passed his throat at the idea of her being in pain.

Annabeth obviously took the gasp the wrong way. A sob wracked her body and she turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her torso as if that might shield her from his gaze. There were even more scars on her back. "See?" she muttered brokenly. "I told you those girls were right. My scars are ugly. You think so, too."

"No, Annabeth. That wasn't…Of course I don't…" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Percy wrapped his arms around her from behind, and Annabeth struggled, too mentally exhausted to do anything but wiggle against him.

Percy nuzzled away her hair to find the scar on her shoulder that she got saving his life from a poisoned knife. He pressed his lips against it and murmured, "Beautiful." She froze in surprise. He found a long one on her shoulder blade and pressed kisses along its length. On the last kiss he whispered "Gorgeous" against the marred skin. A circle of bumpy flesh was a few inches under that, (probably from an arrow) and he gently said "Lovely" as he slanted his mouth over it.

He did this until he had kissed every scar on her back, rotating between the words "Beautiful," "Gorgeous," and "Lovely," throwing in a few "Stunning's" here and there. He made sure each praise reached her ears. He heard her sniffle and stifle whimpers. He didn't know if they were good sniffles and whimpers, but he'd check after he was done.

He had to get on his knees to kiss the scars further down. A few of them went under the waist band of her jeans. Percy didn't know if he was glad or disappointed that Annabeth had a belt on, because her pants would have hung lower on her hips without one. A shiver wracked her body every time Percy got close to a more sensitive part.

There was one scar that started right below her neck and curled around her left side, stopping at her rib cage. He followed it, kissing, and the last one he whispered "Lovely" before moving onto the next one. He worked on her side scars, even lifting her arm so he could get the one under her armpit, and then went to her left side. He moved to her front.

When he glanced up at Annabeth's face, he saw a few tears streaking down her cheeks, her bottom lip wobbling a bit, and her eyes so dark they were almost black.

Percy continued.

Every time he kissed a scar around her black sports bra, Annabeth would shiver violently. She threaded her fingers through his ebony hair, not pushing him away, but just searching for some kind–any kind–of grab.

He placed feather-light kisses along her collar bone and whispered "Stunning" on the last one. He moved to her face. He murmured "Lovely" against the little scar on her nose, and "Beautiful" on the pale line on her forehead. Finally, he found the white line under her bottom lip. He whispered, "Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous," before slanting his mouth over hers.

The kiss was heated and intense, tongues dancing with each other and teeth nipping at lips. Annabeth tugged at and ran her hands through his hair. Percy brushed his fingertips against her rib-cage and smiled slightly into the kiss when her muscles involuntarily contracted. Hard as steel, he thought.

Panting heavily, they pulled away to gasp in air. Annabeth broke the thin trail of saliva that was threaded between their lips. Percy wiped away all the water that was left on her face.

"Did I show you?" Percy murmured. "Did I show you what I think…know what you are?" Annabeth nodded. He shook her slightly. "Tell me," he pleaded.

"I'm…" She bit her lip. "I'm beautiful," Annabeth whispered.

"Scars and all?" Percy inquired.

"Scars and all," Annabeth repeated, affirmative.

He gave her a happy, love-struck, lazy smile and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He led them to his bed, where he turned around and plopped against, back first, so Annabeth was straddling his waist. He tugged her down, tucking her head under his chin.

"Sleep," he encouraged. "You seem tired."

"But you have homework," she protested.

"It's Friday," Percy reminded her. He wrapped his arms around her bare waist. "Sleep, Wise Girl."

Annabeth smiled to herself and closed her eyes. "Seaweed Brain," she retorted, cuddling into his chest, getting comfortable.

She was warm, inside and out. Laying here, in his arms, she did feel beautiful. Those girls at her school knew nothing about her, her life, or her scars. And her scars weren't the products of self-inflicted pain; they were the metals of a warrior, a survivor.

Percy lazily ran a hand up and down her back. He brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered, "Gorgeous."

Her smile widened.

A very beautiful survivor.

A year later, Percy was upset about his newly-gained scars from Tartarus. Annabeth took off his shirt and kissed every single one of them, whispering "Handsome" loud enough for him to hear.

In their first year of marriage, Doctor Solace was worried about how the scar tissue that covered thirty-two percent of Annabeth's body would affect the baby. Both Annabeth and Percy cried on the way home. Percy stripped her out of all her clothes and made sure to kiss every single scar. He murmured "Beautiful" with each kiss.

Eight months later, Annabeth sat in a hospital bed, her hair a mess and her eyes and face red and puffy. With Percy's loving gaze on her and their beautiful baby boy in her arms, Annabeth couldn't have felt more gorgeous, epically when her husband kissed the scar on her shoulder and told her so.

AN: I hope you liked this. I'm sorry if Annabeth was OOC, but this seems to be something that any teenage girl would react to in some way. Constructive criticism appreciated, and reviews are most certainly welcome. :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson.