Welcome to my newest fic.

So, it's my first time writing a fic for when they are this age.

All the background is ingrained into the story.

Hope you enjoy xx

Annabeth didn't know how she woke, but after 20 years of sleeping next to someone, she had come to know when his presence was absent from the bed. It worried her. It had been happening more and more lately; she would wake in the night to find the sheets next to her cold and empty, and often would end up having to get out of bed and turn the heater on. It was so cold without him there.

"Hello?" Annabeth whispered, her voice echoing in the dark room. "Are you there?" Something moved in the corner of the room, and Annabeth's heart lurched.

The dark silhouette of her husband paused in the doorway, and he swore under his breath. "I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep, honey."

Annabeth sat up in bed, warning alarms going off in her head. "Percy. What's going on?"

"I just need some air. I'll be back soon."

Annabeth knew him too well to fall for that. But she also knew that when he got into this mood, there was no stopping him from doing what he wanted to do.

She sighed wistfully, and collapsed back onto the pillow.

How she hated this house without Percy. Their children, seventeen year old Luke and fourteen year old Zoe, were part- year rounders at Camp Half Blood, and without their laughter and mischief to brighten the house, it was just plain depressing when Percy was at work.

She lay awake, waiting. An hour ticked by, and she eventually fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

When she woke at her usual Sunday morning time of about 7, Percy was asleep next to her. His face was angled towards her, and she inspected him for any sign of damage.

He was 40 years old, but his face had changed very little in all the time she'd known him. It had lost the baby fat and childish roundness, of course, and had become more gaunt with age. Dark stubble covered his chin, and Annabeth resisted the urge to stroke his cheek. But it was the same face that she had loved forever. The face that she had punched when they were children, stroked lovingly when their relationship was new and foreign, and kissed passionately on their wedding night 20 years ago.

In all the time she had known him, although they had their fair share of fights, she'd never given up on him. She had loved him since she was sixteen, and she would love him until she died (This sentence kind of relates to my story Till Death Do Us Part, I just realised. Maybe you could give it a try?)

Without warning, his eyes flew open, and met hers. They were the same sea green colour they'd been when they met for the first time. They were beautiful, and if she looked long enough into them, the kindness and warmth and love behind the beautiful colour still made her knees weak.

This morning, there were large shadows underneath his eyes, and there was a coldness there she didn't recognise.

"Good morning," she said, still scrutinising him.

He sat up and boyishly ruffled his own hair, yawning. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"

The innocent question made her blood boil so suddenly that Percy flinched back, a guilty look in his eyes.

"Where did you go last night?" Annabeth demanded.

"I told you, I went – "

"Cut the crap, Percy. You're a terrible liar." She threw the covers back with more force than needed, and slipped her ugg boots on.

Percy also climbed out of bed, his face drawn and weary. He didn't want to argue with her. It always left him with a terrible ache in his heart.

To Annabeth's great dismay, angry tears began to crawl down her cheeks as she yanked open the blinds. The dark room was making her mood drop more than it should have. For most of her life, she had had a fear of dark, gloomy places. The only thing she could put it down to was her short time in Tartarus, which was practically the mother (well, father) of dark, gloomy places.

As she stood at the window, her back turned to her husband, trying to stop the flow of tears, Percy came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face in the junction between her shoulder and neck, and Annabeth found herself melting in his strong arms that had always screamed 'safety' to her. Without her mind's permission, her body sank back into his familiar, comforting embrace, and she turned her head to the side to kiss his hair. No matter what he did, when he hugged her from behind, she could forgive him anything. Could, but this time, there was no excuse…

He kissed her neck softly, in the place that always made her relax and lose her train of thought, and she sighed. "Don't think… that this is me… forgiving… you…"

Her words died as he spun her around and kissed her full on the lips. For some reason, the kiss was different. She couldn't explain it. Maybe it was harder than usual. Maybe it was the desperation behind the kiss. Maybe it was simply because he'd been working so much that they hadn't had time for anything remotely romantic in a while.

When he began pulling at her pyjamas, and his hands stroked her romantically deprived body in just the right places, she found her resolve dissolving.

He was forgiven this time. But next time…

Her trail of thoughts was wiped out for good as they fell back onto the bed.

Nothing appeared to be wrong with Percy. He still had his huge appetite that left Annabeth wondering how he wasn't a big fat whale by now (although, from all the training a demigod requires, it was almost physically impossible for them to get fat, and Percy wasn't an exception. His body was as lean and muscular and attractive as it had been in his early twenties. Annabeth's figure wasn't nearly as strong and firm as it had once been, despite her husband's protests that she always looked beautiful. Two kids and eighteen months of no training in her lifetime had really taken it out of her. She wasn't fat, by all means. She was just… curvy. Really curvy).

He still joked around like he had when they were twelve, and swept her off her feet and kissed her heartily when he got home from work. His eyes still sparkled when they went to visit Luke and Zoe at camp.

But every night, she still woke up at about 1 in the morning to an empty bed. It had been going on long enough now that she was used to it, and whenever she quizzed him about it, he found some way to distract her or change the topic of conversation. And every morning, he was back in bed, sleeping peacefully next to her, which for some reason infuriated her because it was like he was trying to hide that he ever went out in the first place.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, she wondered if he was meeting another woman. But she knew Percy. He would never cheat on her. He'd proved over and over that he loved her enough to stick with her for life.

At times he seemed perfectly normal. And then there were things, besides the sneaking out, that screamed that something was wrong. There were the bruises under his eyes that darkened every day. Some days he forgot to shave, and he went to work with half a beard.

Some days he burned the eggs in the pan, and he never burned the eggs. Sometime in the early days of their marriage, when Annabeth had made it clear that she was not going to be the typical housewife who cooked and cleaned, Percy had taken over kitchen duties and his cooking skills had developed rapidly. He was the cook of the house, and when Annabeth had been pregnant, he'd become like a housewife himself, submissive to her demands and cravings, however strange they had been.

One night, Annabeth walked into their bedroom to find Percy sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His trusty sword Anaklusmus, the sword that had been with him since his very first quest, was unsheathed, lying on the floor. Annabeth's sharp eyes didn't miss the flecks of blood on the pommel. It didn't look fresh, which was strange because Percy never forgot to clean his sword. When he looked up as she walked into the room, his eyes were bloodshot and his face wet, like he'd been crying.

Annabeth forgot the blood immediately, and didn't hesitate to place herself on his lap, put her arms around his neck, and kiss the tears from his cheeks. They kept coming.

"Percy," she murmured in between light butterfly kisses. "Tell me what's going on. I hate seeing you like this."

Percy's face closed off, and he leant back, resting his elbows on the bed. Annabeth lay down next to him, leaning over him so that her honey blond hair tickled his chest where his T shirt left a triangle of tanned skin open.

With one finger, she traced that triangle of skin. "I love you," she whispered.

Percy's arms came around her and he pulled her half onto him. "I know." His voice was hard. There was an unfamiliar undertone. Annabeth thought it might be hurt, or sorrow, but she wasn't sure.

"I'm worried about you."

"I know."

"Then do something about it!" she ripped herself out of his arms and hit him feebly on the chest.

Percy said nothing.

"Why are you putting me through this?"

Silence.

"Did I do something?"

"No!"

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "Is it another woman?"

Percy's breath caught, and he sat up slowly. "Of course not! Annabeth, I love you!"

"Then why are you hurting me so much?" and then she couldn't go on because her emotions finally got the better of her, and she began to sob.

And this time he was the one to try to stop her tears.

But Annabeth pushed him away, and ran out of the room. She couldn't deal with him like this. She did the thing she did best – she ran away from her problems. With only her Celestial Bronze knife, her Yankees cap, her keys, her wallet, and the clothes on her back, she slammed out of the door, jumped into her car, and stepped on the gas.

As soon as he heard the car start, Percy jumped up, and raced to reach her before she was gone.

He was too late. The car squealed out of the driveway, and disappeared down the road.

He yelled out in frustration, and lashed out at the closest thing to him – the garage door. He punched it. Hard. The instant explosion of pain didn't bother him – pain to him was like coffee was to Annabeth. It woke him up, made him alert. But when in this mindset, it was a welcome distraction from his real pain. It felt almost pleasurable.

He didn't notice the bloody knuckle marks left on the dented metal roller door.

His thoughts were whirling through his head at lightning speed, and he couldn't think properly. He should have told her. He should have just fucking manned up and spoke his mind.

And now he's probably lost her for good. He remembered the last terrible fight they had.

She had roared out of the driveway just like she did now, and hadn't come back for a week. Percy fumbled for his phone, and hit speed dial.

After a few seconds, he heard her ringtone blaring from inside the house, probably still on the charger.

"Fucking Hell!" he shouted, and in a fit of impulsive anger, threw his phone. It shattered against the brick wall of the house, but he couldn't bring himself to care much. If somebody needed to contact him, they could ring the bloody landline.

He saw everything in a shade of red. He was furious with himself.

The only thought on his mind right now was his wife. He had no clue of when she would come back. When he was in this state of mind, he needed her levelheadedness; he needed to crush her soft body close so that he could be sure that he wasn't alone. Without her soothing presence, he wasn't sure what he would do. Over the past few months, he had taken her for granted. He hadn't paid attention to Annabeth or her feelings, had only assumed that she would always be there to wipe away his tears, to kiss him and make him forget about the demons that plagued him.

He stormed inside, and kicked a chair viciously. It skittered across the tiled floor with a satisfying screech of indignation.

Percy rested his elbows on the kitchen bench, and forced himself to slow down and think.

Annabeth.

Where the fuck would she have gone?

Annabeth.

His fists clenched, and he fought the urge to curl into a ball and sob. If she divorced him, he damn well deserved it. When she came back, if she was set on separating from him, he would willingly throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness. He would never again keep things from her, and he would make her favourite coffee every morning for her in bed. He wouldn't spill crumbs and leave them on the bench. He wouldn't rifle through her things and leave them unorganised. He wouldn't boil the kettle when she was trying to concentrate on work.

Godsdammit it, Annabeth. Come back. Come back to me.

He thought of every place that was special to them as a couple, and decided she wasn't the sentimental type. And if she was angry with him, why would she go somewhere that reminded her of him?

Maybe she visited the kids at camp. Percy grabbed the home phone, and with shaky fingers, dialled the number he knew off by heart.

As it rang, he prayed to every single god and goddess he knew of, Greek and Roman, male and female, ones that liked him and ones that didn't, that Annabeth had had a sudden urge to see the kids.

When somebody finally picked up after what felt like an eternity to Percy's ADHD brain, a very familiar, childish voice answered the phone. "Hello, you've reached Camp Half Blood, Long Island. This is Zoe Jackson speaking, how may I help you?"

"Zoe!" Percy exclaimed. "What are you doing answering the contact phone?"

"Daddy!" the little girl squealed. "Chiron was busy so Dionysus let me talk on the phone! I think he might like me, daddy, even though he always calls me Ziggy Johnson."

Percy was too distressed to even smile at old memories of the camp director and his deliberate forgetfulness when it came to names. "Baby, is mummy there with you?"

There was rustling in the background, some girlish whining, and suddenly the strong voice of Percy's son Luke was on the line. "Dad, mom's not here. Is everything alright with you two?"

Percy rested his forehead on his free hand, and slid it into his dark hair, which knotted around his fingers. Frustrated, he pulled harshly on his hair and said, "No, buddy. Hey, I've got to go. If you hear any word from her, call me immediately, okay?" Then he remembered that he had smashed his phone, and instantly tightened his hold on his hair even more, angry with himself at his stupidity. "Actually, scratch that. Just tell her that dad said he'll fix everything if she promises to come home straight away."

"Sure, I'll tell her, and we'll make some calls from here as well to try and find her. Is there anything we should know, dad?" Percy felt himself stiffen with guilt. "No, bud. Just a silly argument between mom and me. Everything will be alright. Hang in there, okay? I'll come and see you if things aren't fine by tomorrow."

"Bye, dad."

"Bye, son."

They both hung up. Percy took a deep breath. Where else might she have gone to find solace? The library? It was a possibility, but he doubted she'd go there if she was as upset and flustered as she had been when she had left him.

The park? He scratched that straight away. It was getting dark, and Annabeth was smart enough to know what kind of people hung around the park at night. He shouldn't dwell on that. And she wasn't helpless. She no doubt had her knife, and she was strong and unafraid and kickass even without a weapon.

But at the thought of her alone at night, shivering in a bed that wasn't theirs, crying without him to wipe away her tears, Percy fought the urge to cry himself. It wasn't right. They belonged together. He should be there when she cried. He was a horrible husband.

Without really thinking what he was doing, Percy hopped into his car and subconsciously made the decision to drive around a bit, see if he could think a bit clearer with some air. He wound down the window, and took big gulps of air.

The urge hit him so suddenly that his hands jerked on the wheel, and the car swerved sharply, nearly veering off the road.

This was what he'd been avoiding talking about with Annabeth. He was scared she would judge him. He didn't want to worry her more than she already was.

"I love you. I'm worried about you."

He fought to keep control of the car again, this time for a completely different reason.

There was no use fighting it, though. Its grasp on him was stronger than his grasp on himself. He found himself taking the exit that Annabeth was least likely to go down. Unable to resist the pull, he stepped on the gas until he reached the dead end, and stomped on the brakes. The tires squealed as the car came to an abrupt stop after slipping frantically across the gravel, spinning and swerving.

Once the car was at a complete standstill, and dust was swirling erratically through the air, Percy let his death grip on the poor steering wheel loosen a bit, and opened the door.

Something dark, something evil and frantic took control of his limbs, and before he knew what was happening, his body had begun the familiar journey into the woods, his hands clutching an unsheathed Riptide like his life depended on it.

Annabeth rested her head on her steering wheel, and closed her eyes, still breathing hard. It had been quite a few minutes since her sudden departure from her home, almost half an hour, and she had finally found a quiet, safe little place where she could rest and think about what she had done.

But the only thing on her mind was Percy's face, his eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet. Why hadn't she tried to be patient and kind instead of blowing up and running away? Percy never cried. Something was seriously wrong.

But at the same time – he should know better than to keep things from her.

After minutes of silence, and trying to calm her breathing, it occurred to Annabeth that she needed a change of scenery. It wasn't healthy for either of them, all this fighting and worrying. The longest she'd ever been away from him was that week when she had run away and hidden from him after a terrible argument that had only been a misunderstanding. That argument had been years ago, though, and over something much more immature.

They were older now, and wiser. As a mature forty year old woman, Annabeth was ready to go home and apologise. She would tell him she loved him. She would tell him that she didn't want to fight anymore.

And she would tell him that she was going to leave for a while to sort things out. She wasn't ready to divorce him. She knew that they would eventually sort things out, because that's what people who loved each other did. But she needed a break.

She would visit her father, who lived on the other side of the continent and whom she rarely got to see. He would be old and frail by now, and all alone, as Susan, his late wife, and Annabeth's step mother, had passed away some time ago from breast cancer, and their two sons, Bobby and Matthew, had created a circus partnership and were travelling the world, rolling in cash and fame and fans.

She would find and reconnect with old friends. Grover Underwood, Clarisse La Rue (whose daughter Silena actually attended Camp Half Blood, and was forming a romantic relationship with Annabeth and Percy's son Luke), Tyson, her brother, Malcolm, Jason Grace, Piper Mclean, Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo, Leo Valdez, Hazel… the list went on. And, of course, Thalia Grace, one of Annabeth's oldest and dearest friends. She was a big time Hollywood actress now, following in her mother's footsteps. She had quit from the Hunters when she fell in love with a son of Apollo after they bonded over their love for archery, whose name rang a bell with Annabeth – Will Solace (Just mentioning that I don't ship this couple at all, but he was all I could think of at the moment).

The hardest part would be leaving Percy. She would miss his funny little habits, like sleeping with the blankets to his waist (which was the reason they had a doona and a sheet on the bed, because Annabeth liked to wrap the blankets around her head, and while Percy had the sheet at his waist, she could have the doona around her head). And how whenever she was on the edge of solving a vital calculation, he would always, every single fucking time, decide to boil the kettle. Right at that moment. It always left her amazed at how he managed to pick the exact moment, and although she yelled at him every time, she realised that after so many years, she was used to it. If he suddenly didn't do it anymore… or he wasn't there to do it… Annabeth gulped against the sudden marble in her throat. She didn't want to think about Percy not being there.

Another one that really got on her nerves was when he accidentally got shaving cream flecks all over their bathroom mirror, and didn't clean it up. Now, if you got her started on that…

Annabeth was so busy reminiscing that she didn't hear or notice the car flying down the narrow gravel road she had picked to park at the end of. She had thought it was perfectly out of the way, so that she would have time to sulk on her own.

Besides, it was dark, and who the hell would want to come to the middle of nowhere at this ridiculous time of the evening?

Apparently this idiot.

As she squinted, she realised that she recognised the car. And the driver. Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

Percy was looking straight ahead. His face was stone cold, closed off. He didn't see her.

And he was coming straight for her at breakneck speed. They were going to collide!

Annabeth screamed in fright, but at the exact moment that she thought she was going to die, she heard the squealing of brakes, and the foul stench of brake fluid wafted through the air.

Annabeth opened the door, and called out to him, but he didn't hear her. As if in a trance, he climbed out of the car, sword grasped tightly in his hand, and entered the woods.

"Percy!" she screamed frantically, waving, but it was obvious he was so focused on where he was going, he didn't hear her. Or maybe he was ignoring her on purpose. She probably deserved it if he was, but that didn't stop her from pulling her Yankees cap on and stumbling into the bush after him.

Her only regret was that she had worn thongs instead of sneakers. Closed in shoes would have minimised the amount of bindies and scratches she received, anyhow.

She followed him for what felt like forever. She had to resist the urge to squeal every time something brushed up against a part of her body, or something sharp poked her foot.

How could Percy be walking so fast? Wasn't he feeling all the branches that whipped him?

Annabeth wanted to call out to him again, but something told her that he wouldn't hear her. She was sure she had seen him this way before. She remembered something from a faraway time… so long ago it almost felt like a dream. They had been on a ship… the Argo 11. And Percy had been possessed. By an eidolon. A spirit called forth by the evil Earth personification Gaea to spy on the demigods by possessing them.

Could it have happened again? Annabeth hoped not.

He eventually led her to a clearing. It was obviously not a natural clearing, as it was small and perfectly circular, maybe the width of two cars nose to nose. Annabeth felt the beginnings of a claustrophobic attack, and she tried to stay hidden in the shadows. Percy stood still with his back to her, his sword held loosely and comfortably at his side.

Nothing happened for about five minutes. Finally, Annabeth couldn't take it anymore.

She cautiously checked the clearing one last time, and then ran out to stand in front of Percy.

Just as he cried out and collapsed to his knees in the dirt. "Percy!" she gasped, and tried to catch him. He was too heavy, and they both went sprawling on the ground.

His eyes snapped open. "Annabeth?" he sat up and rubbed his eyes like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "What in Hades are you doing here?"

"I followed you. But Percy, please tell me what's going on!" she begged, throwing her arms around his neck. "I thought you were possessed! You didn't see or hear me…"

Percy kissed her forehead. His voice was gravelly when he said, "I wanted to tell you what's going on, but I didn't want to worry you."

Annabeth simply looked at him, her grey eyes large and watery.

Percy leant forward and kissed her softly on the mouth, like he couldn't help himself. Annabeth knew he only got overly affectionate when he was scared. "I think I'm going to die," he whispered, before slumping forward against her. Annabeth grunted, and used all her upper body strength to hold him up.

"Percy?" she said, laying him gently down on the earth. "Percy!" she touched his cheek. He was cold as ice and pale as paper. His face was beautiful in the dim light. And unresponsive as a stone.

He wasn't dead.

He couldn't be dead.

"What is going on?" she howled to the night, wanting answers.

Her instincts prickled a millisecond before a very familiar voice said, "I'll tell you."

Annabeth whirled around and said in disbelief, "Luke Castellan?"

TO BE CONTINUED

So, I'm hoping for some positive feedback to speed up the updating process (and my regular fans know what a slowpoke I am at updating!)

I hope you guys like this idea, I quite enjoyed writing it, and it was written on a whim. I have no idea what's going to happen in the second chapter!

Until next time,

MashPotatoeSquishBanana :P

P.S Don't forget to check out my other stories!