Summary;
It's been eighteen years since Annabeth Chase has talked to or heard from Percy Jackson so when she is given a new mission in New York she thinks nothing of it. What happens when her next assignment brings her to his doorstep? Set after TLO, and HOO never happened. Percy and Annabeth didn't leave on good terms shorty after their underwater kiss.
Why do the fates hate me, has been the only question in my head for the last three days. It all started when my boss called me into his office.
I've been working for the Central Intelligence Agency for almost seventeen years after my marriage crumbled and I quit my dream job of being an Architect. When I found out that my husband had used me for money I knew I couldn't keep doing what I had been because I'd always be reminded of him and how I didn't realize what he had done until it was too late. With that in mind, I packed up my stuff and flew myself and my infant daughter, at the time, up to Washington D.C. to begin a new chapter of my life.
When I initially entered the CIA it was for military operation planning but after training I was recruited into field operations, though I rarely leave the country because I have a fifteen year old daughter.
My boss is not a laid back guy, he is straight to the chase and does not appreciate jokes no matter what the circumstances, nor does he appreciate when one of his operatives turns down a mission. The file he gave me for my mission gave me details on a gang of teenagers and younger adults based in New York but had strings that tied them to a similar gang in Los Angeles.
My mission is to find out who their supplier is, what they are planning, who their leader and to neutralize them, and the only information given to me is a street address in Manhattan. If my boss thinks this address is enough to go on then I'll just have to suck it up and find out who lives there and what their ties are to these gangs.
Sitting back down at my desk, I opened our agency search engine and typed in the address that was in the file. The house that pops up is a modest looking two story house on the outskirts of the city but there is nothing special about it. When I try to find out who owns the house all I get is a box that says there is no known owner of the house; which is definitely strange.
By the time I'm ready to leave for the day, I've made a list of what needs to happen next; tell Sam that we're moving to New York because of my job, buy a house in Manhattan, find out who owns the house and how they're connected to this gang, infiltrate the gang, and finally, neutralize them. Ever since Sam turned twelve and could stay home alone, she continued coming along with me for my missions even though she doesn't know what I do; she thinks I'm still an architect, like I was before we moved here, because I'd rather have her close to me when I'm on a mission where I'm an hour away compared to a plane ride away where anything could happen. Also, for this mission I need to infiltrate the gang, I'm going to need to be there for a significant period of time which means I'll need a house in Manhattan.
Normally when I get home Sam is in her room reading or doing homework which is why I'm surprised when I spot her long blond hair hanging off the side of the couch. I move closer to see she's lying down on the couch, watching a teen drama show. Like her grandmother –Athena– and I, Sam is very bright and smart which generally means she doesn't watch cliché shows about high school.
"Sam, honey, we're moving," I start the conversation with.
"Why?" is her only response, her eyes still glued to the TV.
Then, after a second, she turns and looks at me with her grey eyes. "I thought you said that we wouldn't have to move again for a while because we just got back from France. Is this like a for real move or are we moving somewhere for a couple of months and then coming back to this house?"
"I know what I said a couple of months ago but work is work and they want me in New York by Tuesday," it's not a completely lie because I didn't think I'd get another mission this quickly after the one I did in Paris for the past year. "I don't know how long this will take but it should be at least a couple of months; if it's longer than that you can come back here to live with one of your friends."
"Okay, what do I need to bring?" She asks. "Is it just my clothes and anything I need or want, like my books?"
"Same as always, whatever you want, Sam," I responded. "Do you want to go to school there because you'd only be there for a month and a half before summer break starts? You can just hang around and see the sites if you want. Plus we might not even be in New York come September."
"As much as any other teenager would like that offer of no school, I want to go to school in New York so I won't feel so lonely and bored because when we go away for your job, you're always busy."
"Let me know if you change your mind," I tell her as I walked out of the room and into my bedroom to find a house in New York.
The one I decide on is a nice two story, three bedroom house that is on the outskirts of the city. The house has a spacious living room and a basement that is fully finished which is a plus since I'm not paying for the house; pro of the job. It's down the road of the address I was given by my boss. There is a local high school around the corner from it which will make it easy for Sam to get to and from school without me.
After I finish getting all the details for the flight, Sam's new school, and the house finished, I start packing. Generally I only bring my clothes and equipment on missions but since this mission doesn't have a lot to go on, I have absolutely no idea how long we'll be in New York for or how deep my cover needs to be.
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
By the time Monday rolls around, both Sam and I are packed and ready to leave for New York. She knows as well as I do that questioning others motives is pointless, if you already know that they won't tell you anything, so the ride to the airport is silent, as well as the plane ride.
The plane ride was uneventful and the food; flavorless so we both kept to our own.
When we touched down in New York and had our luggage, we hailed a taxi and sat in more silence for the next forty minutes.
Silence is nothing new to me considering that my real job is a secret, and we both love reading and drawing which don't involve other people or talking. Also Sam is still a bit resentful that I didn't tell her who her father was until she was thirteen, especially because he is currently the star of popular science show on TV. What she also doesn't know is that her grandmother is Athena, the goddess of wisdom which is why I'm worried to be back in New York, so close to Camp Half-blood.
I can immediately tell that she likes the house because when we pull up, her face is practically glued to the window in amazement; what can I say, I have to keep my cover as an architect. I knew she'd like it because it was one of the first houses I designed back when I was with her dad, and it just happened to be for sale when I was looking to buy.
"Do you like it?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah, it's beautiful," she whispers. "How many bedrooms?"
"Three, you get first pick like normal."
"Yes!"
I pay the taxi-man and we get our luggage out of the trunk and bring it into the house. The CIA really did a good job furnishing the house.
By the time I make it upstairs; I can hear Sam unpacking her stuff in what was supposed to be the guest room when I designed it, though I have to admit, it is the biggest room.
When I finish unpacking I walked to Sam's room, only to find her passed out on her new bed. She looks so at peace with her new room, it's almost like she can sense that she's close to safety and that this house was designed for her to grow up in.
It looks as though she only got about halfway through putting her books on her new bookshelf when she fell asleep because her suitcase is still zipped and her carry-on is lying on her desk, also unopened. The rest of her stuff is being brought from Washington by the weekend, as will mine because we couldn't fly everything here.
I turn off her light and leave her there to sleep. She does this every time we move somewhere and I have gotten in the habit of ordering in food for when she wakes up, in case she wakes up while I'm out and freaks out or gets scared. Her comfort foods are spicy chicken pizza and blue corn chip nachos. They oddly go pretty well together in one meal.
I go back to my room and sit on the bed while fetching my laptop out of my carry-on. The light weight, slim grey laptop is –sadly– probably one of the closest things I have to a friend because my job keeps me away and very busy most of the time. I do get the major holidays off but those are generally spent doing something that Sam wants to do because she sacrifices so much to stay with me even though she knows she has other options.
I open the internet browser and search for delivery places that do pizza and nachos. I find three who will delivery out here but only one offers both spicy chicken pizza and blue nachos. I pull out my cell and dial the number given for orders and am greeted by an oddly familiar sounding male. I give him my order and he tells me that it'll be about forty minutes for it to get here because of the distance.
While I wait for the food to be delivered, I busy myself with looking around the kitchen to get a better sense of where everything is. Once I've grasped enough sense of placement in the kitchen, I move to look around the house. I know that I designed it but that was years ago and I abandoned my dream of living here when I got divorced; now I'm back and don't regret choosing this house at all.
Most of the rooms have been set up as I had originally intended them to be; the office was an office only not some weird guest room/office mixed that some people have, the smaller storage room is stocked with food and kitchen appliances that don't fit into the cupboards, and my favourite room would have to be the larger storage room that was design as a weapons training room and my training equipment is placed neatly around the room with a large punching bag in the middle.
The small sitting room has a TV on the wall with a couch on the opposite wall and two arm chairs on the other two walls. There are bookshelves placed around to room, some housing Sam's new school books that were picked up yesterday and others are home to my many architecture books that were bought for my cover. Most of them are still empty but I'm sure that'll change once all of Sam and I's books arrive, along with our vast collection of DVDs and CDs. A small glass coffee table sits in the middle of the room with four colourful coasters; I imagine this room will be less used than our living room because this a small, cozy, intimate room, not somewhere I'd talk business or occasionally work in.
Next, I look around the basement and find that it also has not changed since I designed the house, it is split into three rooms; a small bathroom, a small equipment room, and a large room. A gaming system attached to a large flat screen TV in the back corner of the large room. There is a large black, leather couch sitting about ten feet from the TV with a matching love seat against the wall. A small wooden desk has been set up near the bottom of the stairs with a computer desktop and speakers. This desk will probably be where Sam listens to her music when we have guests over because the room is large enough to have at least fifteen teenagers moving around comfortable; not that I encourage partying. The dark hardwood flooring is covered in a soft grey carpet that compresses with every step that I take.
Just as I'm about to go back up to the kitchen to pull on the kettle for hot chocolate and coffee, the doorbell rings. I abandon my train of thought and putting the kettle on, to fetch my purse before making my way to the door. When I open the door I'm left speechless.
"Good evening," the teenage boy greats me. "You ordered pizza and nachos from us earlier toning?"
I realize I'm staring when he says that and quickly nod my head. "Yeah, I did, sorry you just shocked me. You look like an old friend of mine, like almost exactly like him."
"Well I haven't heard that excuse for staring before, but that will be twenty-four dollars and seventy-six cents," he tells me.
I pull out thirty dollars in cash and tell him to keep the change. He smiles at me and hands me the boxes he was holding.
"Say, I might know this old friend of your's," he grins. "Got a name for the friend?"
"Nico," I sigh. "Nico Di Angelo. I met him through his cousins and we were never that close but you look he did when he was a teenager."
The boy's grin grows wider when I say Nico's name so I assume he knows him.
"Ah, my famous dad," he says. "Most of my dad's friends say that every time they see me; even my uncles say that I look more like my dad than my uncle did of his dad."
His admission that he was Nico's son was predictable but his admitting that he knows his uncles shocks me back to eighteen years ago and I know I don't want to remember all those hurtful words that were spoken. I need to get this boy to leave, now, or else I might say something I regret.
"I'm sure that's true," I respond half-heartedly. "I shouldn't keep your any longer, someone your age should be doing homework or hanging out with friends, not talking to random women who know your dad."
"I'm home-schooled so I don't know very many kids outside of my extended family and that's only because I go to a summer camp my dad went to when he was my age."
"Camp Half-blood," I ask and he responds with a nod. "I went there and it's a good place and is full of nice people. Have a nice night and maybe see you around."
"Yeah, hopefully," he says as he turns around and starts to walk down the front steps.
I bring the food to the kitchen table and examine my new kettle. It's new and has multiple buttons for temperatures buttons. I settle on a medium temperature because it'll be hot but won't take a long time. With that accomplished, I make my way upstairs to Sam's room to see her awake and putting more books away.
"Sam, our food's here," I tell her. "I also put the kettle on so you could have hot chocolate or something warm with your pizza and nachos."
"Okay, thanks mom," she doesn't even turn to look at me. "I'll be right down."
I quietly leave and descend the stairs into the kitchen. I pull out two plates and two mugs and place the mugs on the counter, next to the kettle. I bring the plates over to the table, where I proceed to open the boxes of food. Just as the kettle finishes, Sam emerges in the kitchen. She takes one look at the food before quickly sitting down and taking a helping of both pizza and nachos.
"What do you want to drink?" I ask as I pour myself a mugful of hot chocolate knowing that caffeine would not be a good idea for me.
"Whatever you're having is fine," is her response, like always.
The thing about my daughter is that she never wants to make me go out of my way to do stuff for her but that's what parents do so I always ask to make sure it's okay and see if she wants something different.
We eat our food in silence only commenting on how good it tastes.
By the time that I've finished washing the dishes and putting the leftovers in the fridge, Sam has moved into the sitting room and is watching TV. I make my way to join her and find her watching her father. I decide not to join her because this is the only time she can feel connected to her father, and go into the office to start planning for tomorrow.
The first thing I'll do tomorrow is check out the address I've been given and depending on how that goes maybe follow the owner around for bit to see who the come into contact with.
X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X
My alarm goes at five o'clock and I quickly hit snooze; no way am I getting up now when I was up until nearly midnight last night putting away my things. When it goes off again, I begrudgingly turn it off and get up to start the day. I put on a pair of dress pants with a crème blouse; I leave my feet bare because my heels are at the front door and there's no need to wear shoes around the house.
I brush my teeth and comb my hair before putting it up in a high ponytail, before leaving my room to go wake Sam up for school. Once she heard that I had gotten her registered at a school close by, she insisted on starting as soon as possible so she could meet people before school let out for the summer.
She groans when I turn on her light, and then promptly tells me that no teenager should have to wake up at this hour for school. I give her a chuckle in response.
"You were the one that was insistent on going to school here, not me, so suck it up," I remind her before leaving and shutting the door to give her privacy.
When I get to the kitchen I quickly look through the fridge and spot a bottle of berry smoothie; perfect for breakfast. I go through the cupboards looking for the oatmeal that I know I saw yesterday and find it just as Sam makes her entrance. She takes one look at what I have gotten out for my breakfast before putting the smoothie away in fridge. Sam makes a point to grab the milk and orange juice out of the fridge before grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl before placing all three items where my smoothie previously sat.
"Balance mom," she takes the role as the parent. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and you have time to have something other than a smoothie today, save it for a day when you're in a rush."
"Thank you, Sam," I thank her. "There's some cereal in the cupboard beside the fridge or there is bread in there also."
She grabs a box of cheerios and the loaf of bread before placing them on the counter; she then takes four pieces of whole grain bread out of the bag and places them in the toaster. Next thing she does is take two bowls out of one of the many cupboards and pours her cereal into one. I get handed the other bowl for my oatmeal just at the kettle finishes boiling.
Sam sits at the table eating her cereal when the toasts pop; seeing as I'm waiting for my cereal to be done I take over buttering the toast. I take two plates out and place two pieces on both before buttering them. I place her plate in front of her before getting her and I each a glass. I pour her a glass of orange juice and then, for myself, a glass of milk. I take my bowl of oatmeal and sit across from her at the table before starting to eat my breakfast in silence.
"Your school books and schedule are on one of the shelves in the sitting room," I inform her. "Do you want a ride to school so you get an idea of where it is?"
"Sure, as long as I don't make you late for work," she agrees. "Can you pick me after also, if you aren't working? I want us to be a better family here than we were in Washington; starting with spending time in the car together because I know that you're really busy and everything."
"I'm never too busy for you, but yes, I can if that's what you."
"Okay thanks, I'm going to go shower and then it should be time to go right?"
"Yes it will be time to leave if you want to be early."
"See you in a bit," she stands up like she's about to leave but then turns to me. "Do you want me to load the dishwasher before we go?"
"No, I've got more time than you in the mornings because I don't have to be at work until a couple hours after I drop you off."
Well technically it's true but it's also a complete lie; I go to work whenever I have to, or whenever I get around to it. That's the thing about working in the intelligence sector; you work when you have to no matter what time it is.
I load the dishwasher when I finish eating my apple and put away the food from breakfast. Since we have leftovers of Sam's favourite foods, I decide to pack a lunch for her instead of giving her money because I only eat those foods when she's here; I don't like blue corn nachos or spicy chicken anything.
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After I drop Sam off at school, I make my way back home to gather the equipment I might need today. I get back into my current rental car –I have one until mine gets here– and drive to the address I was giving for my mission.
The house is a lot prettier in person than it was in the photos I found when I first looked up the house back in Washington. The owner must be pretty well off because there is a sleek grey Porsche sitting to one side of the driveway. Every window visible from the road is covered by curtains, which is strange because there are no neighbours close enough to see in the windows, nor is it nighttime.
I quickly exit the car to take a look at the other sides of the house. I find that all the windows have the curtains drawn and that the gate to the backyard is open; not something that someone dangerous would accidentally do. Taking my chances; I go back to the front door and knock. No one answers so I ring the doorbell and almost immediately I hear footsteps approaching the door.
It takes almost a minute for the person to open the door after the footsteps stopped. When it opens, I'm not prepared for who I see.
Percy Jackson; my ex-best friend.
So I don't know if I should continue writing this or not but if you could leave a review with your opinion that would be great. Thanks for reading