The waiting room of this hospital ward was packed, as usual. Everywhere fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered, and the constant hum found in hospitals was louder here than in any other room in the hospital, save one. There was soft music playing from the speakers installed in the ceiling, though had anybody been paying attention to it, they wouldn't have approved of "Smack My Bitch Up" as the kind of song usually allowed in this type of ward. There were three nurses behind a reception desk, all well over their forties but trying to cover up the passage of time and disappearance of their youth with heavy makeup and skimpy clothes. Even if their youth, they wouldn't have been beautiful at all, but since an incident a couple of years ago, no one bothered to mention it to the ladies. In that incident a man had been impatiently awaiting news of his wife and had lashed out verbally at the ridiculous appearance of one of the ladies. He'd ended up joining his wife in hospital.

But now, two years later, there was another impatient man in the room, pacing, and waiting for news of his wife. He was dressed casually in shorts and a summer shirt. He wore reed sandals and on the chair where he had been sitting, there was a fisherman's net. The shaft was four feet long, wooden, and ancient yellow in colour. The circular rim of the net was some kind of metal, the same colour as the wooden shaft, and also looked worn with age. The actual net was made out of thick, bright green, woven seaweed.

Right now that man was exuding a large, smothering aura. Every time each foot hit the floor you could swear there was a mini earthquake. The nurses were getting impatient as well. This man was taking all the attention away from them by making everyone in the room afraid to even look up. One nurse was filling her nails, one was moving from place to place behind the reception desk every few seconds, and one was chewing rather loudly whilst reading the New York Post. All of them had one thing in common at that moment; they were giving the pacing fisherman evil side glances. The fisherman looked utterly unaware, and was constantly glancing at the huge clock beside the reception point. Finally, he gave a strangled groan and rounded on the nurses.

"She has been in there for ages! Why is there no news yet?" the man exploded. The nurses all looked at him condescendingly.

"I have no idea, sir. Just like you, I have been in this room for the past hour," the oldest looking of the nurses replied.

"Maybe if you were like other, more responsible, husbands you would have gone into the OR and helped your wife through this." This came from the youngest looking nurse in a whisper meant just to reach everyone's ears, though if she was the youngest was a debatable point. They all looked alike in their guises. The room suddenly went cold and quiet. A paralyzing feeling spread throughout the waiting room and in this kind of atmosphere it would have been possible to hear a pin drop. The fisherman's posture straightened and he looked at the nurses with terrible gaze. They weren't looking all that condescending now.

"Listen, mort-" whatever he had been about to say was cut short by the loud opening of a door. They all turned to look as a middle aged woman with brown hair and a worn face enter the room. She stopped in her tracks as she felt the atmosphere in the room. She stood, dumbfounded and lost for words, her eyes riveting between the man and the nurses. It was the fisherman that helped her find her tongue.

"Well, what news?!" he asked the doctor. The woman suddenly straightened.

"The delivery was a success," she replied kindly. The smothering aura in the room suddenly lifted, and warmth returned to the room.

"Thank the Fates!" the man exclaimed. "Can I see her?"

"Of course," the doctor replied.

The scene was suddenly covered in a mist of haziness, and before long darkness descended so that everything was a pitch black vastness. The last image seen was of the man and the doctor going through the wooden double doors, and of one of the nurses getting her cell phone out …

When Percy woke, it was with the same grogginess he had felt all day yesterday. Ever since he had woken up after that strange encounter, his mind had felt foggy and unbalanced. Literally. He hadn't understood a word the teachers who had found him said, and the meeting with the principle had been nothing but grunts, shrugs, and a whole lot of confused noises. Of course the police had been present, and before long his mother and Smelly Gabe had pulled into the parking lot in Gabe's camero. His mother had looked anxious. Gabe simply looked annoyed, probably because he had had to waste his precious fuel and drive his priceless camero.

From there on things had been unfocused, and he didn't remember much except for a few vague images. And now here he was, waking as if from the dead, after having a particularly weird dream. Shrugging it off like a snake takes off its old skin; Percy got up and went to have a shower. A long, wet, cold shower to help him wake up. It was time he got back to acting like his old self. There were thoughts in his head he had to sort through, and the quicker he did, the better. He took his time, letting the cold water wash over him, through him, and cleansing him entirely. He felt much better in the shower than he had for a long time. His mind cleared and for the first time he was able to start thinking about what had happened the night before last. Just then the door bell rang and a moment later he heard his mom call his name. Drying up quickly, he threw on some blue jeans and a white shirt. He combed his hair quickly but thoroughly and was down stairs in three minutes.

"Morning honey," his mom called from the kitchen.

"Morning mom," Percy replied, going into the kitchen. He was very grateful that Gabe hadn't woken up yet, but if the cheerful exchanges continued that wouldn't last long. But despite that, his mom was the only person Percy ever felt completely safe around, and she was the only one around whom he relaxed and looked and acted like a normal boy his age.

"Who was at the door?" he asked casually, delving into some left over blue meatloaf.

"Your friend from school, Grover. He's in the back yard." Percy stopped dead. Slowly his face took on the impassive expression he always walked around with, and his eyes became inscrutable orbs. His mother noticed the change instantly, despite the fact she was facing the other way. She always knew when her son's mood changed. She heard the clink of metal on china and looked over her shoulder too see him slowly eating his meatloaf. She considered telling him that it was rude to let his guests wait, but then decided against it. As it was, she was in need of some heavy thinking. Things had been going pear shaped steadily ever since Percy's mentor and only friend had disappeared in an explosion, leaving Percy himself with not only an empty hole in his heart, but also a severe and oddly decisive case of amnesia. She heard the scraping of a chair, and a few seconds later the creak of the porch door. She sighed. Soon she would have to tell him. Very soon.

"Hello, Grover," Percy said tonelessly. Grover gave an almost goat like bleat in surprise and turned his back on the flowers he had been admiring.

"Percy! You have no idea ho glad I am to see you, my friend!" Grover certainly looked very glad. There was happiness all over his face, and something else as well … relief? Percy walked by Grover and bent on his knees to study the flower Grover had been looking at.

"A beautiful baby blue specimen of bearded Iris, don't you agree?" he asked Grover casually.

"Very much so!" Grover exclaimed. "I have never seen one so clean and pure!"

"Quite right," Percy said with a small smile. "My mom is crazy about anything blue. Which reminds me, would you like to stay for some blue pancakes?"

"No thanks, I only came in to check on you. You didn't look too good when you left with your mom." Grover was now shuffling his feet consciously.

"I'm better now. The cold shower I just had cleared away all the cobwebs. By the way, I never knew you were so keen on flowers." Percy still wasn't looking at Grover, something that made Grover all the more nervous.

"Oh, I have always appreciated nature," Grover said almost defensively.

"Quite rightly so," Percy said unfazed. "Who's your friend over there?" he asked Grover casually. Grover turned red at the insinuation, though later he would come to wonder how Percy had known Annabeth had been in the garden with them, let alone that she was a girl.

"Oh … she's Annabeth. A friend of mine. She wanted to come along to get away from the boredom of her house."

"Indeed," Percy said, finally rising and turning to look where the soft footfalls were coming from. The girl was wearing a Yankees baseball cap that covered most of her face in shadow, a pair of jogging shorts, a T-Shirt that said HALF-BLOOD CAMP on the front, and some white trainers. She looked about the same age as him and every bit the athlete, and her hand was warm and strong when they shook hands.

"A pleasure," Annabeth said in a strong, clear voice. "Grover's told me a lot about you." Percy cocked his head.

"That's funny. He's never mentioned you before." An uncomfortable silence ensued with Grover reduced to more shuffling, Annabeth looking steadily at Percy, and Percy looking straight back, a small smile on his face. Suddenly a shout from his mother saved matters.

"Percy, come here and help me, would you honey?" Percy waited a moment before replying.

"Sure, mom. I'm coming." With that, he left them in the garden without as much as a glance back.

"That was nice," murmured Annabeth. Grover groaned.

"I have got to be the worst satyr alive! How could I let that fiasco a couple of nights ago happen? I was supposed to be watching him."

"Don't beat yourself up too badly," Annabeth said. "He's a hard one. I saw it in his eyes."

"But what about my license? I've just gotta pull this one or I'm finished. You heard Mr. D." Annabeth sighed. It was all true.

"Very well. The only way out of this one would be to take him in right now. Take him to Half-Blood Camp and get it over with. That way, whatever happens next won't be your fault. But I still wonder what's so special about this one. I cant sense anything in him, but Chiron still insists otherwise."

"He may not look it," said Grover, "but I have seen something in him at times, in his eyes. I don't know either what Chiron sees, but I have seen that he does have a little bit of power inside him." Annabeth shrugged. Maybe he was a son of one of the lesser gods or goddesses then.

"Let's take him now then," Annabeth suggested.

"We can't yet," Grover said miserably.

"Why," asked Annabeth.

"His mom won't let us," Grover said simply.

"What!? She does realize the alternatives now that he's on the radar, right?" Annabeth asked, shocked.

"She wouldn't let use back when he was a child, and now she's saying we can approach the subject only after their trip to their cabin." Annabeth shook her head. Emotional attachments. This is what usually got everyone killed. But it was the parent's choice, and if a parent said no, then no it was.

Just then, Percy came back from inside the house, his face somehow changed. He looked … happy.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have a lot of packing to do. Maybe I'll see you after the weekend, Grover," Percy said in an almost merry voice. You could tell he was barely able to control his excitement.

"Maybe," Grover said miserably. "Hold on, here, have this." He handed Percy a card.

"That's my … er … summer address. Just five me a ring or pop by any time if you need anything. And I mean anything."

"Sure, pal," Percy said, absentmindedly putting the card in his back jeans pocket. He suddenly stopped, and looked back toward the fence. Annabeth did exactly the same thing. Had a shadow moved just at the edge of the fence?

"I have the oddest feeling we are being watched," muttered Annabeth. After a moment, they all headed back into the house.