Oh Gods! I just finished Mark of Athena and OHMYGAWD! I sobbed into my pillow for like an hour. I had this crazy idea for a sequel after reading it, so I hope you guys are satisfied with this one-shot. I think this would be the perfect twist in the series!

She had long since forgotten what they were falling towards. Maybe it was towards death, maybe towards the center of the Earth. Maybe they had done it on purpose. Maybe they had jumped off a bridge and didn't realize how far it would be till they hit the water. Either way, they were still falling, hand in hand. She didn't see the end until it hit them. A pinprick of light that grew larger so fast that she felt as if she was the person in the drunk driving commercials who didn't see the semi. Faces flashed before her eyes, so many people that she shouldn't be leaving now, in that microsecond before she hit. People she loved, people who had loved her. People she should probably thank for something. People she should say sorry to.

So it was extremely anticlimactic when she slammed into something soft. Not soft enough that it didn't hurt, but soft enough that she didn't break every bone in her body… except that ankle that was already broken. That was excruciating. She rolled out of the way onto the floor before he crushed her, and he landed the same way she had, face first onto that couch that smelled so familiar it could be home. He leaned over the side of the couch and threw up onto the floor. That smell was familiar too, blood and vomit. Two things that any normal person should never have to witness together.

He sat up from his heaving and looked over at her. Her ankle was throbbing and horribly swollen, a pain that radiated from the point of break up into her head. He knelt down next to her and just stared at it, holding her hand. His face was whiter than she had seen it in a long time. How long of a time she didn't know. She looked around. They were in an apartment. An apartment with a pristine kitchen and a quaint little bathroom. This was a place she could've sworn she'd been in before. But no. There was something strange about this place. So similar, but so different. She couldn't imagine where they were.

"Is this hell?" he whispered, looking over at her.

"I don't know." She whispered back. She tried to sit up next to him but immediately fell back. It hurt too badly to move.

"I thought that's where we were headed, but…" he paused, "I know this place."

She nodded, but then suddenly he gasped and got to his feet, "I-I think I might have an idea."

He moved to walk towards the hallway, but she held a hand up, "Don't leave me."

He nodded and picked her up like a child, cradling her. Her arm went around his neck. They moved down the hallway, the farthest bedroom door was closed, but there was movement and a whispered conversation. The inhabitants must have heard their quick entrance. He ducked into the nearest room, one painted blue, the color of the sea. He set her down on the bed, uncapped his sword, set it on the nightstand and looked around. The drawers seemed to have been undisturbed for years. Dust covered their contents, some of which were hanging out lazily at odd angles, like the person had been getting dressed quickly. He picked up a shirt and held it up to himself.

He turned to her, "I think this was mine."

She nodded, but couldn't imagine why his clothes would have been brought down to Hell, if that's where they were. He opened the closet door and looked inside. That same organized mess was there too. It was as if… as if…

"Did I- did I live here?"

She looked up at him and nodded, "I think so. I remember being here… I- I remember crying with…oh… I don't know."

She put her head in her hands and just started to sob. He laid down on the bed next to her and held her tight. "It'll be okay," he promised, "We'll be fine."

"I feel useless," she said, burying her head in his shoulder.

"Never ever ever." He whispered into her hair.

They didn't remember falling asleep.

…

The next morning they woke to a woman standing above them. Her hair was pure white, her skin was wrinkled, but her eyes were young and kind. Her kinky curls looked tired and frizzy, but in a strange way she was beautiful. It only took him thirty seconds to back the woman against a wall with his knife to her throat. She protested, explained herself and he let her go. An older man walked into the room, obviously awakened by the commotion and stood beside the old woman. They stared down at the two of them like they were seeing a vision.

"Who are you?" He stood in front of her, holding his sword out like a spear: protecting them.

"Percy…" the woman said, her white hair falling like a veil over half of her face.

"I said who are you? Answer me now or you'll suffer the consequences."

Tears filled her eyes, "I'm your mother, Percy! Annabeth, please, for the love of God, tell him to back down."

"How do you know my name?" she whispered, holding his arm just a bit tighter.

Percy looked incredulous, "My mother? I know what she looks like, and you're not her."

"It's been twenty years!" she sobbed, "Do you expect me to look the same?"

"Twenty…" Annabeth gasped, "Percy, that's why this place looked so familiar! This was your apartment! Do you remember, Percy? Don't you? It's only been changed a little. You came here everyday for years… I can't believe…"

"We've been falling for twenty years." He said, sitting down on the comforter next to her, "Everyone's probably… what… almost forty by now? Oh Gods…" and then he stood up and started to cry, "I'm sorry Mom."

She accepted his hug easily, but only held him for a second before letting him go. He went back to the bed and took Annabeth's hand, leaning his head against the wall. Then suddenly he shot up and stared at her.

"We were falling towards Tartarus weren't we?"

Annabeth bit her lip and nodded. She'd realized it just minutes ago.

"So…"

"Tartarus is Earth," she whispered, "The monsters keep reforming because they have nowhere else to go. The darkest place in the universe is Earth itself."

So… I was kind of going for this haunted Percy and Annabeth that would never regain that happiness they've had for so long. Basically I was picturing that Percy Jackson we all know and love… the one who always knows what to say and the best retarded jokes to use, and revert him to a man of a few words. Someone who's been so scarred by events in his life that he doesn't get any enjoyment out of it anymore. The same for Annabeth… almost like her wisdom has been incapacitated by a constant fear of what's going to happen next. Both of their lives so intertwined that if something happened to the other they would kill themselves. Yeah… I know… pretty dang dark. But this needed to be written.