He was brave. Or, at least, he was supposed to be. Everyone expected him to charge into battle with his sword held high and just kill all the monsters without any fear. Of course, he did all of those things, but his head remained clouded with fear until well after he was back at the base.

Today was no different. He shook, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely as he ducked and dodged, lashed and jabbed. His fellow campers screeched his name with certainty, cheering him on. These actions were mandatory; he had to do them. Still, his mind rattled between being a scared adolescent and a brave hero.

He propelled himself forward, sprinting at superhuman speeds and ducking into a corner, face to face with a large, scaly, green monster that was brandishing several sharp blades. He backed up as the monster inched closer, grinning evilly. There was nowhere for him to run, and they both knew it.

He swung his trusty blade, but the celestial bronze only swished through the monster's midsection as if it were air. The monster laughed again, swinging back at him and clawing across his chest. Then, as soon as he had appeared, the monster vaporized and was gone.

Gasping for breath, he sunk to the dirty, New York street, hands flung up towards his neck and chest. Blood was everywhere; even through his hazy eyes he could see it. His hands and clothes were sticky with it. He knew that a major artery had been cut like ribbon, and he would soon be put out of his misery.

He suddenly drew to mind a quote that he had heard once. She had said it, he believed. Something Socrates had said, like "death may be the greatest of all human blessings." It would seem that way… he mused.

I want to go home! He thought, tears brimming his eyes. I just—I'm not ready yet! I'm too young! Please! I'm so afraid! Tears poured down his face.

He continued pleaded with fate as his eyes dimmed and his grasp on his neck loosened. His head felt light and empty, and his surroundings became dark and blurred as the world closed in on him. He attempted to call out, but his mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton.

"Afraid…" He managed to choke out weakly. "So afraid."

His eyes began to close involuntarily as he slumped further down the wall. The last thing he saw, as the darkness overtook him, was a girl, running towards him, screaming his name. Though he could not see her face, he could hear the tears choking her voice. She grabbed a crimson-stained hand and held tightly as he slipped to the underworld below him. Her voice rang out through his head, softening with each second and finally—stopping.

He found himself waiting in a line when his eyes opened. Eying his surroundings, he suddenly remembered what had just happened. He grabbed at his throat and chest, pulling his hands back when he found himself healed. Taking a closer look, he remembered where he was, the familiarity of the location sinking in. Though he was dead, and he knew it, an eerie calm overtook him.

I've been afraid my entire life! He mused as the line inched forward. Living in fear is almost as if you're already dead! After all, "death is a delightful hiding place for weary me." He thought about this for another moment or so, handing the papers that had magically appeared in his pocket over to the tall man at the hull of the boat. As he stepped in, he had one last thought:

I just hope they know how much of a coward their 'hero' is. He thought, laughing ruefully and wiping his watery eye with the back of his hand.

A/N: I know how vague this is, but I figured if I made it too specific, it wouldn't do Percy's character justice. I have no hate for him; this is just an alternative that popped into my head randomly. I wrote this quickly, so if you find any errors, go for it! I might do another chapter that leaves it with a happy-ish ending, though, if you had your heart set on something happy, this story's not for you. Thanks for reading, please rate and review!