This is a story I've been working on over the past week. It turned out way differently (and longer) than I originally planned, but I like it. So, here's Part 1 of this two-part story. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO/HoO!

Time Is On My Side

Percy figured he would be the first of his friends to die. He had hoped, anyway, that that's how things would turn out. He couldn't imagine living in a world without his friends, both Greek and Roman. He couldn't imagine living without Annabeth, especially. He didn't want to live in a world without them. Living without them meant that he'd failed in his duty to protect them.

As Fate would have it, his wishes and hopes went ignored, and the exact opposite had happened.

The famous demigod found himself inside a familiar building located on the west coast. Though he hadn't been there since he was twelve, he recognized the waiting room in Los Angeles that housed spirits of demigods awaiting passage to the Underworld. He saw many spirits waiting in line by the elevator, some sitting down either looking bored or chattering angrily, and some pacing the small space.

He also noticed that the spirits looked different than when he was alive. They appeared more solid, and though they still passed through objects seamlessly, Percy could see distinct faces and features. If he stared long enough, he could see hints of a skeleton beneath the soul.

Self-consciously, he glanced down at himself, taking in his standard sneakers, jeans, camp shirt and jacket. He patted his jean's pocket out of habit, expecting to feel a pen residing within, and faltered when he felt nothing. He felt a phantom feeling of his heart skipping a beat before realizing that he was dead. He didn't have Riptide anymore. He wouldn't need it.

Scowling, he approached the high-standing, black oak desk where he knew the ferryman Charon resided, playing a video game, as per usual. When he reached the monster, he cleared his throat unnecessarily and said, "Alright Charon. Get off your game and take some of these spirits downstairs already."

An eerie quiet filled the room, as if all the spirits had heard his words. A melancholy sound emitted from Charon's game device, signaling that his character had just died. His ghostly hands had stilled on the buttons. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, sockets hidden behind dark Aviator sunglasses. Percy winced at the monster, partly seeing his true face due to his own spiritual nature.

Charon's jaw clattered into a twisted, annoyed smirk. "Well, well, well. Percy freakin' Jackson. About time you showed up here."

Percy lifted his chin defiantly. "Not by choice this time."

"I can see that."

Percy licked his lips absently—again, a motion that was unnecessary. He glanced about the room, noticing other spirits nervously darting their gaze back and forth between the pair.

Percy continued on. "And I can see that you still aren't doing your job."

Charon's teeth clicked together and he turned his steely gaze onto the dead demigod. He scowled. "Still trying to do justice on this side, huh? I'm curious—how exactly did you die?"

The former son of Poseidon clenched his teeth. "That doesn't matter. I'd like to get on with this whole death thing, if you don't mind."

Charon smirked. "I do mind, actually. I'm not handing out special treatment, especially to you." He pressed a button on a machine sitting on the desk and a white slip of paper printed out. Charon grinned. "Take a number. Have a seat. Next boat leaves when I defeat Bowser."

Percy felt a flash of anger release in him, and, unable to pull out a sword to take it out on Charon, he swiped at the fake plotted plant on the desk, knocking aside into the wall.

Charon frowned. "Hey! I liked that fake plant."

"Yeah, well, tough. I'd like to get to the Underworld. As would a lot of these spirits."

Suddenly, the air in the office grew cold. Percy felt nonexistent goose bumps on his skin. He glanced towards the other spirits and found them pacing more restlessly, chattering loudly and more angrily. He looked back to the ferryman and sensed a hard glare behind the sunglasses, causing Percy to take a step back.

"Listen, you little brat," Charon continued in a dark voice. "I don't take orders from you. I have one boss, and half the time, I don't even listen to him."

A comment like, Wow, you must be employee of the month, passed through Percy's head, but he figured it would be smart to keep silent.

"So, take a number. Have a seat. Or, give me a reason to blast you into nonexistence."

Charon gave him one last glare before leaning back in his chair. He pressed a button on his game and it roared back to life. The tense air relented and the spirits surrounding him seemed to give a sigh of relief. Dejected, Percy clenched his teeth to keep from giving a snarky remark and snatched the line ticket from the desk.

He glanced down at the number. 305,867.

He glanced at the digital counter above the elevator. 165,387.

Oh man.

Percy could understand how some of these spirits were going nuts, sitting there, waiting for their number to be called. He hadn't been there that long (at least, he hoped he hadn't) and he realized that, with nothing to do but wait, one had time to think about a lot of things. Specifically the life they'd left behind.

He rubbed absently at his lower left side of his abdomen, a phantom itch that had been bothering him since he'd died. He remembered everything about his life. He even remembered his own death. He remembered watching his friends die—who died first, who he couldn't save.

The first one to go was Thalia.

The whole thing had been mysterious, and Percy still wasn't quite sure what had happened exactly. He remembered seeing her turn up at Camp Half-Blood, but she'd seemed different. Not as…other-worldly.

After conversing with the daughter of Zeus, Percy and Annabeth had come to find out that she'd been kicked out of Artemis's Hunters. She wouldn't explain why, however. When asked, she immediately clammed up and absolutely refused to talk about it. Respecting her boundaries, the pair didn't bring it up again.

It was three months after that when she'd been fatally wounded in a battle outside of Manhattan. After losing her immortality, Thalia hadn't stuck around Camp very long. She claimed she felt claustrophobic there, but Percy suspected there was a lot more to the story than what she was giving them. Nevertheless, he was a good friend and didn't push her.

Maybe he should have.

Thalia would normally keep in contact with the pair, sending Iris-messages every couple days or so. But after a week of not hearing from her, Percy was starting to get worried. Chiron shared his sentiments and immediately sent out a search party. Percy had taken Blackjack, hoping to find some glimpse of her from up in the sky.

He should have realized something was wrong with the wind whipping viciously in his face as rain poured down. Thunder boomed after lightning lit up the sky, a constant rumbling causing the hairs on Percy's body to stand straight up. Percy could hear Blackjack complaining and worrying in his head, but he pushed the horse forward, intent on finding his friend.

And when he finally found her, he nearly emptied his stomach.

He wasn't sure how he spotted her. It should have been impossible, considering where she was at and the storm raging overhead. But maybe something—or someone—had wanted him to find her.

He swooped down to an alley situated between two abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town. Percy quickly dismounted, nearly falling flat on his face, and rushed to the dark-haired girl's side. She was lying propped up against the brick wall and a dumpster. Slash marks ran across her stomach and dried blood covered her legs. Her skin was ice cold, her body stiff with rigor mortis. She'd been dead for a while now.

That was when Percy stumbled backwards against the opposite building. Tears rushed to his eyes and he keeled over as his stomach emptied itself onto the filthy ground. The rain continued rushing down from the sky, wind still gusting through the alley. He wiped his mouth and stared down at his friend, feeling anger and guilt and sorrow and a million other emotions rush through his body.

He choked back his sobs, forcing his body to move back to her. He needed to get her back to Camp. He wouldn't—couldn't—leave her here to wait for the search party.

Carefully, he'd gathered her into his arms, pulling her small, limp frame against his body. More tears rushed down his face and he had to clench his eyes shut to keep from losing it altogether. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he motioned to Blackjack and the horse obediently lowered down to allow the demigod easy access onto the horse.

As they rushed back to Camp, the wind seemed to let up immensely. Percy vaguely realized through his sorrow that this storm must have been Zeus' doing, indicating that he was upset. It made sense now.

Shortly after Percy arrived back at Camp, word had spread that Thalia Grace was dead. Jason had been one of the first people to arrive at the Big House. His eyes had been frantic and wide, as if he couldn't believe them until he saw for himself. When he'd laid eyes upon her, he didn't cry or make any sound. Having not known about Thalia the majority of his life, it was hard for him to feel any deep sorrow. But he did feel remorse at losing his only sibling, at losing the chance to know her better. He never really registered Piper wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He just kind of floated down into the chair beside her bed in the hospital and stared at her helplessly, jaw slackened and eyes darting across her form as Will Solace worked to clean up the wounds as best as he could.

Percy had held Annabeth tight, feeling her back shake with silent sobs as he fought back his own tears. The next day, they'd had the ceremony to burn her burial shroud. It had been an unusually cold, cloudy day for June, a record low according to the local weather reports. As everyone began gathering in the pavilion for the rest of the ceremony, Percy could have sworn he'd seen a flash of platinum blonde hair towards the back of the crowd, but when he looked again, the person was gone. In his grief, he didn't think too much about it.

The sun didn't shine for the next week.

Percy shifted on the leather couch, rubbing at his stomach again. He glanced up along with other spirits as Charon suddenly growled loudly, standing up and throwing his game down on the desk. He walked around his desk, muttering obscenities under his breath, and approached the elevator. He stepped inside when the doors pinged open, and spirits began chattering excitedly as they poured into the elevator. Charon must have known which spirits were allowed, because those that weren't were met with a hard shove.

"Back off, you leeches," Charon demanded. With a final shove, he hit the elevator doors and they closed off, transporting the monster and his souls to the Underworld.

Percy sighed, as did many other spirits, and leaned back against the couch. He wondered if any of his friends had gone through this too, or if he was the only one who'd had to wait. He deserved this, that was for sure.

Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe he had to stand by and wait, forever watching other souls make it to their paradise. That's how it had been during his life. Why should his afterlife be any different?

Sea green eyes watched the counter about the elevator, the red luminous numbers changing from 165,387 to 167,211.

He sighed deeply. As he continued his waiting, his mind reeled back to his former life. He had a vague memory of he and Annabeth going to Manhattan to visit his mom on her birthday. He smiled faintly. That had been a good memory. Blue birthday cake, blue punch. Just like when he'd been a kid.

Percy's smile faltered. He wondered how Sally Jackson was doing. Certainly she and Paul had been notified of his death. He wondered if his dad knew, and if he did, was he upset? Was he mad like Zeus had been when Thalia had died? It wasn't like he was the first son of Poseidon to die, but Percy liked to think that they'd shared a good bond.

Maybe he'd been wrong.

Reyna was next to go.

Percy and Annabeth had been down at the beach, cleaning the canoes and supplies used for water activities. Percy enjoyed the job—any time spent at the beach was welcomed—and he liked spending time with Annabeth.

But that enjoyment began seeping out when he saw Will Solace sauntering down the sand, scratching his blonde hair absently. When he caught up to the pair, his eyes skimmed the area, avoiding eye contact.

Percy paused his actions, brows pulling together. "Uh, hey, Will. What's up?"

The younger boy licked his lips together, glancing between the famous demigods. "Well, I'm fine. Kind of. Nico won't be back for another week though."

Annabeth studied the medic, eyes narrowing. "Is something wrong? Is he okay?"

Will opened his mouth to reply affirmative, but then stopped, guilt clouding his eyes as he stared at Percy. "Uh…no. Not really. Something…happened." He swallowed. "There had been a battle, and Reyna…" He suddenly stopped, shaking his head.

Percy felt his stomach drop out from underneath him. He wasn't extremely close with the Roman praetor, but he'd lead the Roman camp alongside her for a short time. They had a certain level of trust and understanding between them.

"Oh no," he heard Annabeth mutter. He felt her small, warm hand travel up his back to his shoulder blades in a gesture of comfort. He clenched his teeth together, feeling sorrow and anger grow within him.

"She died protecting the camp," Will continued, downtrodden. "She was a hero. Nico wanted me to tell you guys. I'm sorry, Percy. I really am."

Percy gave an absent nod, staring back down at his work, though his hands refused to move. Annabeth ran a hand through his hair and he appreciated the comfort.

Will moved as if he was going to leave, but at seeing the couple struggling with the news, Will felt sympathetic and said, "You know, it might not be a bad idea to spend the week out there with Nico. I think…I think she'd appreciate that."

He gave them a final, warm smile and then trudged back up to Camp.

Percy had decided to follow Will's advice, and asked Annabeth to accompany him, to which she gladly complied. She asked Will if he wanted to come, but he politely declined, stating, "I didn't know Reyna very well, but I knew that she was important to Nico. This is his time to grieve, and I don't want to impose. Just…make sure he's okay. Don't let him do anything stupid."

With a small smile, Annabeth promised they would. With those words, she could clearly see why he and Nico got along so well.

The couple loaded up on Blackjack and flew out to California, Annabeth clutching to Percy the entire way (she wasn't afraid of flying, but she wasn't keen on the idea of falling to her death). Upon arriving at the Roman camp, Nico greeted the pair with a solemn demeanor. Annabeth threw her arms around the younger boy, who stiffly returned her hug. Dark shadows lingered under his bloodshot eyes (no doubt from crying). It was no secret to Percy that the boy had been close to Reyna.

"How are you holding up?" Percy asked him quietly, walking alongside him as Annabeth followed. They were headed towards the main part of the camp where there would be a small ceremony.

Nico grunted. "I'm fine," he said, unconvincingly. "It's just…hard."

Percy nodded. "I know. It—It gets easier."

The younger boy raised an eyebrow at Percy. "Does it?"

A sigh. "No. No, it doesn't. But you learn to live with it."

Nico gave a derisive noise, a bitter expression clouding his face. "I have a hard time believing that."

Before Percy could reply, Nico upped his pace—since when had he gotten so tall and lanky?—and rushed ahead to their destination. Percy frowned at the son of Hades, watching his slouched back pace away. Annabeth joined Percy's side, looping her arm around his. She, too, was frowning.

"He'll be okay," she mumbled. "Just give him some time."

The ceremony was small, as per Reyna's dying wishes, and afterwards, everyone joined in the dining hall for food and drinks. Percy and Annabeth had joined up with Frank and Hazel, with Nico sitting at the edge of their table, not quite joining them but not shutting them out completely. Hazel seemed worried about her brother, glancing at him not-so-discreetly. Eventually, Nico picked up on her glances and threw her a mild glare, saying, "I'm fine. Would you stop worrying already?"

He'd stomped away after that, and the next day they had found him passed out against a tree, a few fawns rummaging through his pockets, no doubt looking for food or money. Percy shooed them away with threats, glaring at them. When they dispersed, Percy crouched next to his friend and shook him awake.

Blinking against the light, Nico stared up at Percy, somewhat confused. "Where am I?"

"Outside. You must have passed out from exhaustion."

"Oh."

That was all he said, and when he made no indication of standing up, Percy plopped down beside Nico, pulling his knees up to his chest. They stared out at the hills, clouds dotting the blue sky. A light breeze blew through, rustling their hair.

"I think Will was worried about you," Percy muttered.

Nico grunted. "I know."

A side glance. "Should he be?"

Nico sighed. "No. I'll be okay. I know he thinks I'll do something stupid. And maybe I would have, in the past, but…"

"But…?"

Nico looked away, picking at the grass. "He gives me something to live for."

Percy pondered on those words. They had stuck with him for a long time after that, throughout the whole week that they'd been there at the Roman camp. On their last day, as they were packing up to leave and saying their goodbyes, Percy stood by Blackjack and watched Annabeth hug both Frank and Hazel. He watched her squeeze Nico close, whispering something into his ear that caused the young boy to nod and hug her back tightly.

And then he watched her approach himself, giving a smile that was his smile, one reserved only for him. He reached out his arms and enveloped her small frame, pulling her close and feeling her lithe fingers thread through his hair. He buried his nose in her long hair, breathing deeply.

Something to live for…

The words were accurate.

Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours.

Time moved differently here, Percy realized. He was nearly positive he'd been here for only a couple hours, but it felt like he'd been there a whole week. Maybe that was another part of the psychological torment.

Whatever the case, Percy didn't like it. He didn't like thinking about these things from his former life. Thalia and Reyna had both been important people. It was hard enough to think about their deaths—he didn't want to think of the others.

He abruptly stood up and started pacing. Maybe moving would keep the memories at bay. He just needed to focus on something else. Think about other things. Surely that would work.

Fat chance.

So there you have it! Part 1 is completely. Part 2 will be up sometime tomorrow.

For anyone that is wondering, the part with Thalia did in fact allude to her having a relationship with Apollo (me being the faithful shipper that I am). I'm thinking about writing a companion story for that part, showing their relationship and going into better detail about how she died.

Anyways, thanks for reading and review please! (And keep an eye out tomorrow for the final part!)

-Akatsuki Child