Percy looked over at his wife. He felt giddy just calling the model that. She looked so beautiful. Too beautiful. Her mahogany blonde hair, which had been braided extravagantly and peppered with daisies to hold it together, now hung like a halo, dangling down the peak of the pillow and cascading down his chest, mussed and messy and magnificent. It had been one hell of a day. He couldn't help but smile.

He woke up with a start. Eyes unfocused but desperately searching for a sign of her, a shirt, her perfume or a note. There was no such thing in the hotel room. There was however, snoring men and an assortment of liquor bottles littered around the room. Tyson, in particular, was dressed in only his boxers, his legs hanging over the arm of a single seat lounge, his fingers flinching away from the carpet whenever gravity caused his knuckles to brush the short furry fabric. It reminded him greatly of his bachelor party, except that day he had woken up with a smile on his face and the need to puke. He only needed to puke today. And it was because of alcohol this time, not nerves. He couldn't believe he'd actually signed the papers, couldn't believe she'd actually signed them.

He sighed, it was for the best. He recalled every fight like it was yesterday.

One of them was.

/

Her voice was barely above a whisper just as her skin was barely a shade darker than white and he was acutely aware that he should be quiet too, Sophia was still sleeping. "I'm sick of sleeping on the couch! I'm sick of you acting like I'm some sort of disease, avoiding me! God, Annabethandra! We used to be in love!" her name tasted sour in his mouth, he was so used to calling her by a nickname, and he resented the tears that threatened to spill over onto both of their cheeks.

"It's kind of hard to avoid you when you're never here." Her blue eyes, the ones he had fallen madly in love with, were a steel colour, and her voice of honey had a stone hard edge to it. But she wasn't backing down.

"Oh yeah?" he yelled, "Well it's kind of hard to love someone who won't let you." He didn't mean it. But he said it anyway. And he recognised the fleeting look of betrayal on her high cheekbones and plump lips. He wanted to kiss her. But he walked away instead. To their room to pack his bags. A familiar routine. Too familiar. It had become second nature to him, going to a hotel for the night after a he and his wife fought.

His hand found a Dijon mustard postage envelope in his bedside table, he'd gotten it on a whim, never daring to use it. But now, angered by the heat of the moment, he was prepared to wave it in his wife's face.

He heard her dainty footsteps change pace once her bare feet made contact with the soft carpet, she stood, silent, but he could hear her. The beat of her heart, loud in her chest, the ruffle of paper as she let go of it to wipe her eyes and returned her fingers to it, and he could hear her sniffles. They broke his heart the most.

He turned on his heel to face her, the tingling pain of carpet burn on his heel ignored when he saw the yellow-orange of the A4 envelope in her hands, mirroring the one he held in his own. He half smirked, they'd always thought alike. But this was quickly replaced by a wince, a mental flinch. If what she had was what he had…

He rested his own papers on his open suitcase and snatched Annabeth's tenderly from her hands. He trusted her father more than he trusted his dad's lawyer, which was a testament to how close their families were and the fact that her father had his own law firm, but mostly the first one.

He signed where it was necessary and printed his name beneath his signature, just as she had done to the left of his. His hand was steady as he wrote the familiar cursive swirl, and his arm moved of its own accord when he threw the paper onto the bed. But his fingers twitched and his heart ached once he had let go of the foreboding paper, when the phrase 'signed my life away' had never been more true.

Annabeth wouldn't meet his eyes, for which he was glad, seeing her heart break was worse than experiencing his own heart break. But by the same token, her eyes would have drawn him in and he would have apologised like he knew he should have. Her eyes trained in the pen in his hand, she watched that too leave his hand and fly to the covers spread over the bed, like she couldn't believe he went through with it, like she didn't recognise the man before her anymore. And before he could gather her in his arms and apologise into her coconut scented locks like he would have before, she thrust out her hand towards him.

Their eyes connected.

But there was not a trace of love in either of their eyes.

Annabeth was holding all of her emotions back, but he couldn't blame her, he was just surprised by how good her poker face was.

Curious, he tentatively reached his hand out to meet hers, careful not to let their fingers brush. Once she saw that he was at a satisfactory distance from her hands her fist unfurled and she placed an object in his hand. His fist closed around it immediately, as if he was afraid she would snatch it back, he managed to sneak a peek before he stuffed it in his pocket and he had to gulp.

It wasn't an object.

It was the objects.

In his hand was a jade and diamond encrusted sliver band and a romantically engraved gold band.

Her engagement ring and her wedding ring.

And he couldn't stop the next sentence from flowing from his mouth. "What, don't I get the promise ring back?"

Something flashed in Annabeth's eyes, making her seem wild, similar to a caged animal. It was a cross between hurt and proudness that he'd finally stood up to her, which was cancelled out by the hurt. She turned and wordlessly rummaged through a paddle pop stick jewellery box made by their four year old daughter. She paused to examine the ring momentarily, to smile fondly at it, or to regret parting with it, or to thank the heavens she wouldn't have it anymore, Percy would never know because instantly she was approaching him and handing over the silver band that formed the word 'love.'

Right before it fell into his open hand, she snatched her hand back, thinking. "Keep your stupid ring," she shoved it at him, "but I keep my daughter."

Percy's lips parted like he wanted to argue but he couldn't form the words, which was true. Right now he wanted to stuff himself in his suitcase and cry until he died of sadness. "That's not up to you." Even he could hear the vulnerability in his pathetic attempt to cover up that he had overlooked that he had a child he wanted to father.

Annabeth smiled unkindly, "No, it's up to my lawyer." She needn't notify him which of her parents she would employ, either way he didn't stand a chance, nor would he ever be able to be anything but ashamed if and when he was in her parent's presence from now on.

He pushed past her, rolling his suitcases behind him, past the mountain of stuffed animals he liked to watch his daughter be the puppet master of. He hesitated when he neared the door, switching the arm his jacket was draped over.

"Are you going to say 'goodbye' to your daughter or are you going to leave me to explain why her father's gone?" Annabeth's voice rang, reverberating around the pristine white living room, "Again."

Percy turned slowly, catching sight of Levon, their nearly ten year old (in human years) dog, slumbering peacefully in his basket. His words were spoken harshly but he didn't care anymore. "I was going to put my stuff in my car before I said 'goodbye,' she usually only sees me with one suitcase."

Annabeth's eyebrows were raised in disbelief, her perfectly plump lips forming an 'O' like she was about to apologise for jumping to conclusions. He didn't let her. "Is that alright with you?" Annabeth's features immediately darkened at the spite in his tone.

"Daddy!" came a high pitched squeal, and Percy nearly overbalanced with the extra weight on his legs. He bent down.

"Hey, Sophie!" his smile was real as he hugged her tight. She looked so much like Annabeth with her blonde curls cascading down her mid-back and her pale skin, they were so similar it hurt.

"You're leaving again?" her eyes were wide when she saw his bags. Percy just nodded, not pulling out of their embrace despite her giggly squirming against him. "Were you going to say 'goodbye?'" her green eyes implored.

He was standing now, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, their foreheads rested together. Percy playfully nudged his nose against his daughter's. She giggled again. "Of course not."

"When will you be back?" her naivety and her innocence was killing him. He crinkled his nose at her and kissed her cheek.

"I'll be here if you need me, 'kay?" she nodded vigorously, "Be good for your mother, okay baby girl?" again her head bobbled and again he kissed her, this time on her forehead. He could feel Annabeth's eyes on him, watching intently for him to make a wrong move. He hugged his daughter close again, his knees on the cold tiles that he could feel through his jeans. "Alrighty, bye Soph." he ruffled her wavy blonde locks and pulled down the hem of her pyjama flannels. They all knew he was stalling.

"Bye daddy, come home soon." That broke his heart more than Annabeth had. He nodded absently and pulled open the door, leaving his key on the table beside it.

/

That was yesterday. The day he had a wife, a daughter, a home, a dog and happiness.

Today, all he had was a daughter his wife didn't want him to see and a hangover.